Hiya! Just had an idea for stray kids! What if their girl had a coworker that made her uncomfortable at her job? Of course she wants to be independent and all but she’s just not comfortable around them and needs help?
pairing: Stray Kids x reader!
warnings: sexual harrassment, mentions of bullying, threatening behavior, Stray kids being protective
disclaimer: noy mc pic!
Bang Chan
It was late — almost closing time — when Bang Chan walked into the small restaurant where you worked. The warm yellow light softened the tired expression on your face, and the sight of you instantly made his shoulders relax. He took a quiet seat near the back, smiling when your eyes met his for a second.
You were busy — weaving between tables, taking orders, laughing politely when you had to — but something made his smile fade. That guy. The one behind the counter with you. He was too close. His hand brushed your arm when you walked by, rested on your lower back when he passed behind you. You stiffened, forced a smile, and kept working. Chan noticed every detail — the way your shoulders tensed, the way you subtly shifted away.
When you finally made it over to his table, he tilted his head slightly, his voice low.
“That guy…he always like that?”
You rolled your eyes, muttering, “He’s just a pain in the ass. Always touchy. It’s fine, I can handle it.” You gave him a tired smile, one that didn’t reach your eyes, before hurrying off again.
But Chan kept watching. His jaw tensed each time that coworker found a reason to touch you. He was patient, trying to trust that you had it handled — but there was a line, and the guy crossed it again when he rested a hand on your waist while you were carrying plates.
That was it.
Chan stood up quietly, his chair scraping lightly against the floor. He walked up to the counter — calm, collected — but there was nothing soft in his expression.
“Hey,” he said, offering a faint smile, “I’m Chan, by the way. Y/n’s boyfriend.”
The coworker blinked, caught off guard. Chan leaned in just enough for his tone to drop low and steady.
“Y/n loves me because I’m always friendly and polite. But if I see you touching her one more time, I won't be anymore… and that would be quite a shame, don’t you think so?”
He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t cause a scene. But his eyes were steady, unflinching — the kind that left no room for misunderstanding.
Your coworker swallowed heavily and cleared his throat before giving Chan a quick nod and walking off to the back.
When Chan sat back down, he caught your gaze again. You knew what he had done. He just smiled softly, resting his chin on his hand, and waited for you to finish your shift — his eyes still quietly watching, making sure you were safe.
Lee Know
The small clothing store hummed with low music and the soft rustle of hangers when Lee Know walked in. You were behind the counter, folding shirts with the kind of focus that only came from trying not to lose your temper. He noticed it right away — the tight set of your jaw, the sharp movement of your hands.
Then he saw him. Your coworker. The one who had been making those comments again — the ones about your “Superstar boyfriend,” as if dating someone famous meant you were fair game for jokes or jealousy.
“Must be nice, huh? Getting all the attention because of him,” the coworker said with that smug little grin.
You straightened up and glared coldly.
“Can you, like, shut the fuck up for once?”
Your tone was clipped, final, and before he could answer, you grabbed a few items and headed to the backroom, shaking your head. Minho’s eyes followed you until you disappeared behind the door. Then he turned his gaze back to the coworker.
He walked over slowly, his expression unreadable. Calm, polite even — but there was a weight to his steps that made the air shift. When he reached the counter, he offered his hand with a faint smile.
“Hey,” he said smoothly. “I’m the Superstar.”
The coworker blinked, hesitated, but took his hand. The handshake was brief — Minho’s grip firm, controlled, just a shade too tight.
He didn’t look away. His voice was quiet but precise.
“You know, people say I have a short temper.”
He leaned in slightly, still holding that handshake for one extra second.
“And not a lot of patience. So… maybe start being a little more polite. And if you don’t, you’ll get a taste of my short temper.”
The coworker swallowed hard, trying to keep a nervous laugh from escaping.
“R-right. Got it.”
Minho released his hand, straightened his shirt cuffs, and gave a curt nod before stepping back. His expression never changed — calm, detached, but unmistakably serious.
By the time you came back out, the coworker had found an excuse to work on the other side of the store. Minho just smiled faintly at you from where he was leaning against a rack of jackets, his eyes soft again. He didn’t mention what had happened — he didn’t need to. The look he gave you said it all: he had made sure the guy wouldn’t bother you again.
Changbin
The gym was loud — clinking weights, low music, the steady rhythm of treadmills — but Changbin’s attention was fixed on one thing: you. You were behind the front desk, chatting politely with one of your coworkers, the one he had noticed before. The guy was leaning a little too close, smiling too easily, his tone just a bit too familiar.
Changbin’s jaw tightened as he wiped the sweat from his neck. He watched the way you laughed — not because you wanted to, but because it was easier than starting a scene. The discomfort in your eyes was small but clear, and that was all it took.
When your shift ended, he walked you to the locker area.
“That dick,” he started carefully, “he always talks to you like that?”
You sighed, shaking your head.
“He’s just annoying, Binnie. It’s fine — I can handle it.”
He nodded, but he didn’t look convinced. You squeezed his arm and told him not to worry, and he gave you a small smile — one that didn’t reach his eyes. He dropped it for the moment, but the thought stuck with him.
Later, while you were helping another client, Changbin made his way toward that same coworker. The guy was at the weight machines, adjusting the settings. Changbin walked over with a friendly grin.
“Hey, can you spot me real quick? Need to make sure I’m doing this right.”
The coworker nodded, probably proud to be helping the Seo Changbin. Changbin sat down, set the weights heavier than most people could handle, and started a clean, controlled set — smooth, powerful, effortless.
When he finished, he stood up and extended a hand.
“Thanks, man. I’m Changbin — her boyfriend.”
The handshake lingered just a bit too long. The warmth in his tone faded into something sharper.
“Listen,” he said quietly, still polite but unmistakably firm. “I dion't like it when losers hit on my girlfriend. You should probably back off before things get uncomfortable for you.”
The coworker froze — nervous smile, shaky laugh — and nodded quickly.
“Yeah… yeah, of course.”
Changbin clapped him on the shoulder, his smile back in place.
“Good talk.”
When you came back, he was just finishing another set, grinning as if nothing had happened. But the coworker kept his distance now — and when Changbin caught your eye from across the gym, he just gave you a small, knowing wink.
Hyunjin
The event was elegant — soft lights, polite laughter, glasses clinking — the kind of formal work gathering that Hyunjin endured only because you had asked him to come. You were stunning that night, moving gracefully between conversations, and he stayed close, always just a few steps behind, quietly proud.
Then, as you were introducing him to some coworkers, your tone changed slightly. You gestured subtly toward one man across the room.
“That one over there,” you said under your breath. “He always hits on me — in this really gross, pervy way.”
Hyunjin’s brows lifted slightly, the surprise flashing in his eyes before he turned to you.
“You never told me that.”
You shrugged, trying to play it off.
“It’s not a big deal. I just ignored him.”
But the way you shifted uncomfortably, the way your smile faltered for a moment — he saw right through it. He didn’t push, though. He just nodded quietly, his eyes following the man as he walked away.
Later, when you were momentarily alone at the refreshment table, that same coworker appeared beside you, smiling too wide, leaning a little too close. You forced a polite laugh, clearly wanting to step away.
That was when Hyunjin appeared — smooth, effortless, but with purpose. He slid an arm around your waist, pulling you close in one natural motion. The coworker startled mid-sentence as Hyunjin leaned down and pressed a soft, deliberate kiss against your lips — not rough, not dramatic, but possessive.
“Hey, my love,” Hyunjin said casually, his voice low enough that only the two of you could hear. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
You could feel the confidence radiating off him — calm but sharp-edged. Then he turned to the coworker, offering his hand with a disarming smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I’m Hyunjin. Her boyfriend.”
The handshake was firm, steady. His smile widened slightly, smug but polite.
“Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much.”
The coworker stammered something awkward, trying to mask his discomfort, before making an excuse to walk away. Hyunjin watched him leave, his arm still snug around you.
He looked down at you, his eyes softening again.
“Next time he says something to you, you tell me immediately,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
And as you rested your head briefly on his shoulder, the message was clear — no one crossed that line again.
Han
The dressing room buzzed with quiet chaos — stylists moving around, makeup brushes tapping, the low hum of chatter between staff and idols. You were focused on your work, carefully fixing Han’s makeup before the shoot. It was routine by then — gentle touches, easy conversation, the occasional shy smile exchanged when no one was looking.
No one knew about your relationship, and that was how it had to stay. For now.
But Han noticed things. Especially the way one of your coworkers treated you — sharp comments, subtle jabs, the kind of mean-spirited tone that slipped under the radar but cut deep.
“You’re really taking your time, huh?” the coworker said behind you, pretending to joke. “Guess some people need more practice.”
You forced a polite smile, mumbling something neutral. Han’s reflection caught the tension in your shoulders. His jaw tightened, but you placed a gentle hand on his arm before he could react.
“Don’t,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. “Please. Not here.”
He breathed out through his nose and nodded reluctantly. He knew you were right — the last thing either of you needed was attention. But inside, his irritation burned steady and quiet.
Later, when the shoot was wrapping up, Han walked past the staff room and heard the same coworker laughing with someone else.
“She’s so slow. No wonder no one wants her on their team.”
That was it.
Han stepped inside, casual and smiling, pretending to scroll through his phone.
“Hey,” he said lightly. “Talking about my makeup artist?”
The coworker froze, caught off guard. Han’s tone was easy — almost playful — but his eyes were sharp.
“You know,” he continued, smirking a little, “she’s actually one of the few people here who makes me look decent on camera. Be a shame if I… I don’t know, mentioned to management that she feels uncomfortable around someone on staff.”
He let that hang in the air, his tone still soft, his expression still friendly.
“Just saying — it’d probably make things messy for whoever that is.”
The coworker blinked, clearly realizing the weight behind the words. Han patted his shoulder, still smiling.
“Anyway. No hard feelings, right? Let’s keep things professional.”
When he walked away, he caught your eye from across the hall and gave a subtle wink — casual, unbothered. You knew exactly what he had done.
Later, when it was just the two of you, he grinned and shrugged.
“Didn’t say anything obvious,” he teased. “But I think he got the message.”
Felix
You told Felix about it one evening, sitting together on the couch after your shift. You were tired, still smelling faintly of coffee and syrup.
“There’s this guy at work,” you sighed, rubbing your temples. “He keeps making gross comments. Not, like, full-on touching or anything — but it’s… constant. The jokes, the looks.”
Felix frowned, the warmth in his expression dimming.
“Want me to come talk to him?”
You shook your head.
“No, I can handle it. I just needed to vent.”
He nodded, pretending to let it go — but the thought lingered. You shouldn’t have had to “handle” something like that.
A few days later, Felix stopped by the café under the guise of getting coffee. It was your shift, and you were working the counter while that same coworker hovered nearby, leaning too close when you were busy, grinning at things that weren’t funny. Felix’s stomach twisted just watching it.
When your coworker stepped into the back to restock, Felix followed quietly. The guy turned, surprised to see him.
“Hey,” Felix said, his tone friendly, his smile polite. “You work here, right?”
The coworker grinned.
“Yeah, man. Best part of the job is working with that one out there.” He jerked his thumb toward the front, smirking. “She’s hot, right? Shame she’s got that ‘don’t touch me’ vibe, though.”
Felix’s smile didn’t fade — not yet.
“Really?” he asked lightly. “You talk about her like that a lot?”
The guy laughed, oblivious.
“All the time. She acts all cold, but she likes the attention. Girls always do.”
Felix’s posture shifted, the air around him tightening. He stepped closer, the warmth gone from his voice.
“You know,” he said quietly, “I should probably introduce myself.”
The coworker blinked. Felix’s accent softened as his tone dropped lower — firm, steady, unmistakably serious.
“I’m her boyfriend.”
The smile on the coworker’s face faded fast. Felix tilted his head slightly, still calm but with a sharpness behind his eyes.
“Next time you talk about her — or any woman — like that, you better sound like a gentleman. Otherwise…” He let the pause hang for a beat. “We’ll have problems. Understand?”
The coworker nodded quickly, mumbling something that sounded like an apology. Felix gave a short, polite smile before turning away.
When he walked back out front, you caught his eye behind the espresso machine. He just raised his cup and mouthed, “Got my coffee.”
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously but couldn’t help smiling — because for the first time in weeks, that coworker didn’t even look in your direction again.
Seungmin
The rehearsal studio hummed with the sound of music echoing off the walls, sneakers squeaking on the floor, and the rhythmic thud of choreography drills. Seungmin was focused as always — sharp moves, precise timing — but his eyes kept drifting toward you.
You were dancing with the rest of the backup team, concentration etched on your face. But there was one dancer who kept breaking that focus. His eyes lingered too long. His hand brushed your waist when there was no reason for it. Every time, you stepped just slightly out of reach, forcing a small, tight smile.
Seungmin noticed.
During a break, he caught you by the water cooler, lowering his voice so no one else heard.
“That guy,” he said quietly. “The way he looks at you — touches you. I didn’t like it.”
You forced a calm expression, though your throat felt tight.
“It’s fine, Seungmin. He’s just like that with everyone.”
He studied your face for a moment — the tension around your eyes, the way your hand gripped your water bottle — and he knew you were lying. But you clearly didn’t want a scene, so he just nodded slowly.
“Alright,” he said softly. “If you say so.”
But he didn’t forget.
At the next practice, when everyone was running through choreography again, Seungmin’s patience ran thin. The dancer was still at it — moving too close, his hands lingering in ways that had nothing to do with the routine. So during a fast transition, Seungmin deliberately stepped half a beat off — just enough. The guy’s footing tangled, his balance slipped, and he hit the floor with a thud.
The music stopped for a second. Seungmin knelt immediately, extending a hand with a perfectly polite smile.
“You alright, man? Gotta be more careful,” he said, helping him up. His tone was even, almost friendly — but his grip was firm, just shy of painful.
Then, still holding that hand, he added quietly — low enough that only the other dancer heard:
“You should try being more careful around people too. Especially the ones who don’t like being touched.”
The guy blinked, realizing the weight behind the words. Seungmin’s smile didn’t waver.
“Wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt again, right?”
He clapped the dancer lightly on the shoulder and walked off as the music restarted, sliding back into position as if nothing had happened.
From across the room, you caught his eye. He just gave a small, knowing nod — calm, composed, but the message was clear: he had made sure the guy wouldn’t bother you again.
Jeongin
You were adjusting the lighting equipment when Jeongin arrived at the studio. He was there for a shoot, smiling and polite as always, greeting everyone with a bow and a quiet “Hello.” The crew liked him — he was respectful, soft-spoken — but they also underestimated him. He was the “nice kid,” the one who was always cheerful and harmless.
Except that day, he noticed something that wiped the smile off his face.
Across the room, one of your coworkers was leaning too close. He had been making offhand comments all morning — “You look good in that outfit today,” “You should smile more while you work.” You laughed it off each time, but Jeongin could tell from your body language that you were uncomfortable. The small step back. The stiff smile. The way your hands tightened around the light stand.
During a break, he walked over to you, his voice low.
“Is that guy always like that?”
You sighed, shrugging like it was nothing.
“Yeah. He’s just weird sometimes. I can handle it.”
Jeongin nodded slowly, but his expression didn’t soften. There was something behind his calm eyes — quiet, deliberate anger.
A few minutes later, when the crew started setting up again, that same coworker walked past you, his hand brushing your shoulder like it was no big deal. Jeongin’s patience snapped.
He stepped between you before you could even react. Gone was the shy, smiling Jeongin everyone knew — his expression was steady, his voice low and cool.
“You should keep your hands to yourself.”
The coworker blinked, half-laughing.
“Relax, man. I was just—”
Jeongin didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
“I saw what you just did,” he said evenly. “And I’m telling you not to do it again. To anyone.”
There was something unnerving in how calm he sounded — no shouting, no anger on the surface, just quiet conviction. His stare didn’t waver. The coworker muttered something under his breath and stepped back, clearly uncomfortable for once.
Jeongin gave a short nod, then turned to you, his tone instantly soft again.
“You good?”
You nodded, still surprised. He offered a small smile — gentle, familiar — and walked back toward the set, slipping easily into his professional role again.
But for the rest of the shoot, no one underestimated him. And your coworker kept his distance — because now everyone had seen a different side of the “nice kid.”
