ℋANDS OFF ℘ SKZ's!
ɞ . abstract. they’re used to sharing their lives with the world, but they aren't interested in sharing you. eight times the members reminded a stranger exactly where the line was drawn. ɞ . warnings / tags. fluff. suggestive. jealous!skz. established relationship. possessive & territorial behavior. intimidation of others. unwanted attention/harassment. encroachment on personal space. mentions of alcohol/drinking.
BANG CHAN
the studio was crowded, way more crowded than it usually was during a late-night tracking session. you were perched on the edge of the leather sofa, tucked into the corner with a drink in your hand, while the rest of the guys milled around. it was supposed to be a low-key wrap party for the new album, but some of the producers had brought friends, and the room felt small.
chan was across the room, leaning over the console with changbin and a couple of senior engineers. he looked good—focused, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a pencil tucked behind his ear—but you could tell he was keeping one eye on the door and one eye on you. he always did that. he called it being a good host, but you knew it was just his nature to keep track of his people.
"so, how long have you known the group?"
you blinked, pulling your gaze away from chan to look at the guy who had just sat down next to you. he was one of the guest track-makers, someone you’d seen a few times but never really spoken to. he was leaning in close, his arm draped over the back of the sofa, effectively carving out a little bubble for the two of you.
"oh, a long time," you said, offering a polite smile. "i’ve been friends with chan since before the debut."
"lucky guy," he chuckled, his eyes scanning your face in a way that felt a little too lingering. "i can see why he keeps you around. you’ve got a really great energy." he introduces himself, giving you some name that you can't recall. can't bother to.
he didn't pull back. if anything, he shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. you tried to shift subtly, but the sofa was deep, and there wasn't much room to move. "thanks," you murmured, taking a sip of your drink to avoid further conversation.
"you know," he continued, lowering his voice to a tone that was definitely meant to be intimate. "we’re headed to an after-party at a club nearby in about twenty minutes. chan’s probably going to stay here and obsess over the master tracks for another five hours. you should come with us. i'd love to actually get to know you without all this noise."
he reached out then, his fingers grazing your forearm as if to emphasize the invitation.
before you could even open your mouth to decline, the atmosphere in the room shifted. you didn't even have to look up to know chan had noticed. you could feel the weight of his stare from across the room.
a second later, the heavy footsteps approached. chan didn't walk over; he converged.
"everything okay here?"
chan’s voice was low, smooth as silk but with a jagged edge underneath that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. he didn't wait for an answer. he stepped right into the narrow space between the coffee table and the couch, placing a firm, heavy hand on your shoulder. his thumb rubbed against the base of your neck in a slow, possessive rhythm.
the man pulled his hand back quickly, clearing his throat. "oh, yeah. just inviting your friend here to the after-party. you’re probably too busy to go, right?"
chan tilted his head, a small, tight smile playing on his lips that didn't reach his eyes. he looked incredibly calm, but the grip on your shoulder tightened just enough for you to feel the tension vibrating through him.
"actually," chan said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding like that deep tone he got when he was serious. "we have our own plans. and i’m never too busy for her."
he looked down at you then, his expression softening for a split second before he cut his eyes back to the other man. the look was icy—a clear, unspoken warning that said you're overstepping.
"is that right?" he stammered, looking between the two of you. "i didn't realize... i mean, i thought you guys were just..."
"we're a lot of things," chan interrupted, his voice steady. "but available isn't one of them. you should probably go find your group, man. i think they're leaving."
it wasn't a suggestion. he got the message, mulling out a quick "right, see ya" before making a beeline for the door.
the moment he was gone, the room seemed to regain its oxygen. chan didn't move his hand. he let out a long, ragged exhale, his shoulders finally dropping from their defensive hunch. he turned toward you, his eyes dark and swirling with a mix of leftover adrenaline and something that looked a lot like guilt.
"sorry," he muttered, though he didn't sound particularly sorry. "he was being... a lot."
"channie," you said softly, reaching up to cover his hand with yours. "were you jealous?" you don't bother to hide the teasing lilt in your voice.
he let out a dry, sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. he looked away for a moment, watching the door where the guy had disappeared. "was it that obvious?"
"you looked like you were about to growl," you giggle.
chan stepped closer, moving until he was standing between your knees, his presence completely enveloping you. he leaned down, his face inches from yours, his eyes searching your face with an intensity that made your heart hammer against your ribs.
"i don't like the way he was looking at you," he confessed, his voice a rough whisper. "and i definitely didn't like him touching you. i know i shouldn't be so... yeah. i know you can handle yourself."
he paused, his fingers sliding up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing your lower lip.
"but the thought of someone else taking you away from here—even for an hour? i can't handle it. you're the only thing in this room that keeps me sane, okay? i'm selfish. i want you right where i can see you."
you smiled, pulling him down by his collar until your foreheads rested together. "i wasn't going anywhere, channie. i like it right here."
he hummed, a deep sound in his chest, and finally let out a real smile—the one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "good. because i’m done with work for the night. let’s get out of here before someone else tries to talk to you."
he pulled you up from the sofa, his fingers interlacing tightly with yours, refusing to let go even as he grabbed his jacket. he led you out of the studio, his body positioned slightly in front of yours, a silent shield against the rest of the world.
LEE KNOW
the dance studio was freezing, the air conditioning humming a low, mechanical tune that usually helped minho focus. but today, his focus was completely shot. he was leaning against the mirrored wall, a towel draped over his shoulders, watching you talk to one of the new backup dancers near the sound system.
minho didn't do loud jealousy. he didn't storm over or start a scene. he was more surgical than that. he just watched, his eyes narrowed, tracking every movement.
the guy—some kid who was way too confident for his first week—was laughing, leaning a little too close to you. he reached out to adjust the strap of your bag that was slipping off your shoulder, his fingers lingering on your skin a second too long.
you were just being friendly, smiling at his jokes, but minho’s jaw tightened. he felt that familiar, sharp prickle of irritation. he hated when people didn't know their boundaries, especially when those boundaries involved you.
"so, you're here every tuesday?" the dancer asked, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "maybe i could take you to that cafe downstairs after we wrap? i heard their lattes are actually decent. or, you know, we could always go anywhere else, too."
minho didn't wait for you to answer. he pushed off the wall, his sneakers squeaking sharply against the wood floor. the sound was intentional.
he didn't say a word as he walked over. he simply stepped into your space, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. it wasn't a gentle hug; it was a firm, grounding weight that made it very clear where you belonged.
the dancer jumped slightly, his eyes widening as he looked up—and up—at minho.
"she’s busy," minho said. his voice was flat, devoid of any emotion, which was always when he was the most dangerous. he didn't look at the guy; he just stared at your reflection in the mirror across the room, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.
"oh, i—we were just talking about coffee," the guy stammered, his confidence evaporating under minho’s cold gaze.
"get your own coffee," minho replied, his tone clipped. "and get back to the floor. chan wants to run the bridge again in five minutes. don't be late."
it was a dismissal, plain and simple. the guy scrambled away, practically tripping over his own feet to get to the other side of the room.
the second he was gone, minho’s grip relaxed slightly, but he didn't let go. he turned you around in his arms, his expression still unreadable, though his ears were tinged with a faint, stubborn pink.
"you're scary when you do that," you whispered, reaching up to smooth the stray hairs on his forehead.
"i wasn't doing anything," he mumbled, looking away. "he was just annoying. talking too much."
"he was just asking for coffee, minnie."
minho’s eyes flicked back to yours, sharp and intense. "i don't care what he was asking for. he was touching you. i don't like it."
he let out a small, frustrated huff, his fingers digging into the fabric of your hoodie. minho wasn't big on emotional confessions, but in the quiet of the studio, with the rest of the members occupied at the far end, he let the mask slip just a fraction.
"i know i’m difficult," he said, his voice dropping so low you had to lean in to hear him. "i know i don't say the right things all the time. but you're mine. and i’m not good at sharing."
it was the closest you’d get to an 'i love you' in a moment like this—a raw, possessive honesty that felt more real than any flowery speech.
"i'm not going anywhere," you promised, leaning your head against his chest. "you know that."
"i do," he whispered, finally letting a small, smug smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. he pressed a quick, firm kiss to the top of your head before pulling away, his usual cool exterior snapping back into place. "now go sit down. you’re distracting me, and if i mess up this choreo, i’m blaming you."
he swatted your shoulder playfully, ushering you back to the bench, but as he walked back to the center of the floor, he caught the eye of the new dancer.
minho didn't say anything, but the look he gave him—cold, steady, and utterly territorial—made sure the kid didn't look your way for the rest of the afternoon.
CHANGBIN
the gym was mostly empty, the rhythmic thud of weights hitting the rubber mats the only thing breaking the silence. changbin loved this time of night—the overhead lights were dimmed, and he could actually breathe without people hovering.
he was currently finishing a set on the bench press, his muscles strained and glistening under the low light, while you sat nearby on a weight bench, scrolling through your phone and occasionally cheering him on.
everything was fine until a guy from the late-shift training staff wandered over. he was big, almost as big as changbin, and he had that swagger of someone who knew exactly how much he could lift.
"hey, mind if i hop in for a set?" the guy asked, but he wasn't looking at changbin. he was looking at you.
changbin sat up, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. he didn't miss the way the trainer’s eyes dragged over you, or the way he puffed out his chest a little more as he stepped into your peripheral vision.
"just finished," changbin said, his voice coming out a bit rougher than usual. he didn't stand up yet; he just sat there, arms resting on his knees, watching.
"cool, cool," the guy said, turning fully toward you. "i haven't seen you around here before. you a member or just lucky enough to watch the show?" he flashed a grin that was clearly meant to be charming, leaning one hand against the rack right next to your head.
you looked up, giving him a small, polite nod. "i'm just waiting for him to finish."
"well, if you ever get bored of waiting, i'm usually here around this time. i could show you a few things. you look like you've got good potential for some real strength training." he chuckled, his voice dropping into a lower register.
he didn't move his hand. he stayed leaning over you, his shadow completely covering where you sat.
changbin didn't say anything at first. he just stood up. slow. deliberate.
when changbin stood, he looked massive. the pump from his workout made him look twice his usual size, and the intensity in his dark eyes was enough to make the air in the room feel heavy. he walked over, not stopping until he was standing directly behind you, his presence looming like a mountain.
he didn't shove the guy. he didn't have to. he just reached out and placed a heavy, solid hand on the back of your neck, his fingers tangling slightly in your hair. it was a grounding, heavy touch—one that claimed every inch of the space around you.
"she’s good," changbin said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards. "she’s got the best trainer in the city. she doesn't need another one."
mark’s smile faltered. he looked at changbin, then at the way changbin’s hand was draped over you, his thick arm practically acting as a barrier. the power dynamic in the room shifted instantly.
"oh, yeah, no doubt," he stammered, taking a half-step back. "just being friendly, man. no harm meant."
"right. friendly," changbin repeated, his voice dry. he didn't blink. he just stared until the guy started to look physically uncomfortable. "we're done here anyway. go ahead and take the bench. it’s all yours."
mark didn't stay to chat. he muttered something about a good workout and practically scrambled to the other side of the gym.
changbin let out a sharp, hot breath. the tension in his jaw didn't fade immediately. he looked down at you, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his expression a mix of irritation and something softer that he tried to hide behind a scowl.
"you're all red," you teased gently, reaching up to touch his arm. "was he that bothering?"
changbin grunted, finally sitting back down next to you, though he kept his arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you firmly against his side. "i don't like it. i don't like the way he was hovering. like he was waiting for me to look away for one second."
"binnie, i wasn't going to go anywhere with him."
he looked at his lap, his fingers subconsciously flexing. "i know that. i do. but..." he trailed off, his voice losing its aggressive edge and turning into something much more vulnerable. "it’s just... i work so hard to be strong, to be someone you can rely on. and then some guy walks up and acts like he can just talk to you like that? it pisses me off."
he turned his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck for a second, his breath hot against your skin. changbin was all bravado and muscle on the outside, but with you, he was always just a guy who was terrified of losing the one thing that made him feel soft.
"i know, i know. i'm selfish," he mumbles against your skin. "i want everyone to know that you're with me. i want them to see me and realize they don't even have a chance. is that bad?"
"it's not bad," you whispered, leaning your head against his. "it's just you. it's also, like... really hot."
he pulled back, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through the scowl. he leaned in, pressing a hard, lingering kiss to your temple before standing up and pulling you with him.
"come on," he said, his voice back to its usual confident tone, though he didn't let go of your hand. "let’s go get food. if i stay here any longer, i'm going to end up staring that guy down until he quits his job."
he led you out of the gym, his chest puffed out just a little bit more than usual, his grip on your hand tight and unshakable. he walked you to the car, and even as he opened the door for you, he shot one last look back at the gym windows—just to make sure the message had been received.
HYUNJIN
the gallery was hushed, the kind of quiet that made you feel like you had to whisper even if you weren't saying anything important. the walls were covered in abstract pieces that looked like explosions of color, and you were currently squinting at one particularly confusing canvas. you couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a sunset over the ocean or just a very vibrant bowl of fruit.
hyunjin had wandered off a moment ago to look at a charcoal sketch in the far corner, leaving you to your own devices. usually, he walked right beside you, his hand resting in the small of your back, murmuring his own interpretations into your ear. those were your favorite moments—hearing him talk about brushstrokes and color theory in that soft, passionate way of his. it was the best way to spend a date.
"it’s the duality of existence, don't you think?"
you blinked, snapping out of your thoughts as a random guy stepped into your space. he was dressed in a turtleneck that looked way too tight and was holding a brochure like it was a holy text. he didn't wait for you to respond before he kept going, leaning in closer than necessary.
"the artist is clearly grappling with the fleeting nature of light," he said, gesturing vaguely at the red splotch you thought might be a cherry. "most people just see the surface, but i bet you have an eye for this sort of depth. i can tell by the way you’re looking at it. you have that... artistic soul."
you bit the inside of your cheek, trying desperately not to laugh. you didn't have an artistic soul; you were just wondering if the painter had been hungry when they made this. "oh, i'm not sure," you murmured, stepping back an inch. "i was just—"
"no, don't be modest," he interrupted, flashing a practiced, flirty grin. "i could spend the whole afternoon explaining the subtext of this wing to you. a girl like you shouldn't be wandering around such complex work without a guide."
he reached out, his hand hovering near your waist as if he were going to guide you toward the next painting.
"she already has a guide."
the voice was cool, smooth, and laced with a sharp underlying tension. you didn't even have to turn around to know hyunjin was back.
hyunjin didn't look at the guy at first. he kept his eyes on the painting, but his hand found yours instantly, his long fingers sliding between yours and squeezing tight. he didn't just hold your hand; he anchored you to him.
"actually," hyunjin said, finally turning his head to look at the man. his gaze was icy, his dark eyes narrowed in a way that made him look incredibly intimidating despite his beautiful features. "it’s not about the duality of existence. it’s a study on chaos. and she doesn't need you to explain depth to her."
the guy blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in atmosphere. "i was just offering some insight—"
"your insight is unsolicited," hyunjin cut him off, his voice dropping to that low, velvety tone he used when he was genuinely annoyed. he stepped closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours, effectively erasing any gap the other man could have filled. "and your subtext is wrong. maybe read the artist's statement before you try to impress someone else’s girlfriend."
it was a total shut-down. the guy’s face turned a mottled red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he muttered something about "just being nice" and scurried off toward the sculpture garden.
hyunjin didn't watch him go. he turned to you immediately, his expression shifting from cold to pouting in a split second. he let out a dramatic sigh, dropping his forehead against your shoulder.
"i leave you alone for two minutes," he complained, his voice muffled. "two minutes, and someone is already trying to guide you."
"he was just being annoying, jinnie," you laughed, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "i was fine."
"he was touching your space," hyunjin muttered, pulling back to look at you. his eyes were still a little stormy, his jaw set in a stubborn line. he reached out, adjusting your scarf even though it was perfectly fine, just so he could have an excuse to touch you. "i don't like it. i don't like the way he was looking at you like you were part of the exhibit.”
he wrapped both arms around your waist then, pulling you flush against him right there in the middle of the gallery. hyunjin was always a bit dramatic, a bit more sensitive to the energy around him, and when he felt someone overstepping with you, he became incredibly territorial.
"you’re mine to explain paintings to," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. "i’m the only one who gets to see your 'artistic soul,' okay?"
you smiled, leaning back into his embrace. "okay. so, what is this one actually about then, mr. expert?"
hyunjin looked at the painting again—the one you thought was fruit. he went quiet for a second, his head tilting as he studied it. "honestly?" he whispered. "i think it’s a bowl of fruit. but i’m going to keep pretending it’s deep so we look more sophisticated than that guy."
you burst out laughing, and he joined you, his jealous mood finally melting away into that bright, beautiful smile you loved. he didn't let go of your hand for the rest of the day, leading you through the halls with his fingers locked firmly in yours, making sure everyone knew exactly who you were with.
HAN
the arcade was a chaotic mess of neon lights and overlapping synth music, exactly the kind of place jisung loved. you were currently focused on a racing game, your hands tight on the plastic steering wheel as you tried to beat the high score. jisung had gone to the counter to trade in a stack of tickets for some candy, leaving you alone at the machines for just a few minutes.
you were doing pretty well until a guy leaned against the side of your console. he was wearing a leather jacket and had a smirk that suggested he thought he was the best thing in the room.
"you’re taking that turn all wrong," he said, loud enough to be heard over the game’s sound effects. "you gotta drift earlier if you want the boost."
you didn't look up, eyes glued to the screen. "i'm doing fine, thanks."
"i'm just saying. i've got the top score on this cabinet," he continued, completely ignoring your brush-off. he shifted closer, his arm brushing against yours as he pointed at the screen. "here, let me show you. move over a bit and i'll handle the pedals for you."
the suggestion was weird and way too personal. you felt a surge of annoyance, but before you could tell him to get lost, a familiar presence appeared on your other side.
jisung didn't say anything at first. he just leaned in, dropping a heavy bag of sour candy onto the dash of the machine, right between you and the stranger. he didn't look like his usual hyper, joking self. his shoulders were tense, and his eyes were fixed on the guy with a look that was uncharacteristically sharp.
"she doesn't need help," jisung said. his voice wasn't loud, but it had a sudden, firm authority to it.
the guy blinked, looking jisung up and down. "just giving some tips, man. don't get worked up."
jisung stepped into the gap, effectively pushing the guy back by a few inches just by claiming the space. he draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side so tightly that you had to let go of the wheel.
"she's winning," jisung noted, his voice dropping into that lower, slightly raspier tone he got when he was feeling protective. "and she’s winning without you hovering over her. so unless you’re planning on playing the machine next door, find somewhere else to hang out."
the guy looked like he wanted to argue, but the sheer, focused energy coming off jisung was enough to make him think twice. jisung wasn't the biggest guy in the room, but when he was set on protecting something, he had a way of making the air around him feel electric.
"whatever," the guy muttered, pushing off the machine and disappearing into the crowd near the air hockey tables.
the second he was out of sight, jisung’s posture deflated. he let out a long, shaky breath, burying his face in your shoulder for a second. he was still holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him upright.
"hanji? you okay?" you asked, leaning your head against his.
"i hate idiots like him," he whispered, his voice muffled by your jacket. "idiots that act like they can just walk up and touch you. my heart started doing that weird thing where it feels like it’s vibrating."
you turned in his arms, seeing the faint flush on his cheeks. jisung dealt with a lot of anxiety, but when it came to you, his protective instincts usually managed to override his nerves—even if he felt the crash immediately afterward.
"you handled it perfectly," you said, reaching up to cup his face. "you were very cool."
jisung let out a small, embarrassed laugh, his eyes finally meeting yours. "i didn't feel cool. i felt like i was going to vibrate out of my skin. but then i saw him leaning on you and i just... i couldn't stay over at the counter. i don't like people in your bubble. that’s my bubble."
he pouted slightly, his thumb tracing the hem of your shirt. "i'm not good at the whole tough guy thing, but i really don't want anyone else thinking they can take my spot. is that too much?"
"no," you smiled, pulling him into a hug. "it's not too much."
jisung squeezed you back, his chin resting on your head. he stayed like that for a long moment, letting the noise of the arcade ground him again.
"okay," he said, pulling back with a sudden, forced burst of his usual energy, though he didn't let go of your hand. "now, move over. i'm going to beat your score and then i'm going to buy you a stuffed quokka with the rest of these tickets so everyone knows you’re taken by the best gamer in this building."
"i don't know if they'll have quokkas," you giggle.
"a squirrel, then!"
he spent the rest of the night glued to your side, his hand either in yours or resting on the small of your back, making sure that anyone who even looked in your direction knew exactly who you were with.
FELIX
the beach was beautiful, the salt air thick and warm as the sun began its slow dip toward the horizon. you were lounging on a wide striped towel, the sand still warm beneath you, while the sound of the waves provided a steady, rhythmic soundtrack. felix had been sitting with you for hours, his laughter ringing out every time a seagull got too close to your snacks, but he’d headed up to the boardwalk restrooms a few minutes ago.
you were closing your eyes, soaking in the last bit of the afternoon heat, when you felt the sand shift beside you.
"hey there. you look a little lonely for such a nice day."
you didn't notice the guy walking toward you until the sun was blocked out, casting a long shadow over your face. you squinted up, expecting to see felix, but it was someone else—a guy in board shorts with a surfboard tucked under his arm. he sat right down on the edge of your towel, kicking a bit of sand onto your book in the process.
"i'm fine, thanks," you said, sitting up and pulling your knees to your chest to create some distance. "my boyfriend just went to grab something."
the guy laughed, a slow, easy sound that felt entirely too confident. "boyfriend, huh? well, he's a lucky guy to leave someone like you alone on my beach. i’m a local—lived here my whole life. i know all the hidden spots, the ones the tourists don't know about. if you ever want a real tour of the coast, i could show you around."
he leaned back on his elbows, encroaching further into your space. his name rolls off his tongue, smooth and confident. too confident. "and... you are?"
"not interested," you replied, your voice firm, but he didn't seem to take the hint. he just grinned, looking you up and down in a way that made you feel exposed.
"come on, don't be like that. just a friendly offer from a local."
"she said she isn't interested."
the voice didn't sound like the felix most people knew. it wasn't the bright, bubbly tone you normally heard from him. it was deep—unnervingly deep—and it carried the weight of the ocean behind it.
felix was standing a few feet away, his silhouette sharp against the setting sun. he was wearing an open linen shirt and shorts, his blonde hair tousled by the wind, but his expression was anything but breezy. he looked down at the surfer with a cold, steady gaze that made the guy’s smile falter instantly.
felix didn't wait for a response. he walked over and stepped directly between you and the stranger, effectively shielding you with his body. he sat down right in the middle of the towel, his back to the guy, and pulled you into his lap. his arms wrapped around you, his chin hooking over your shoulder as he locked eyes with the surfer.
"you’re sitting on our towel," felix said. his voice was a low vibration against your back, the kind of sub-bass that you felt in your bones. "and you’re bothering her."
the surfer cleared his throat, suddenly looking much smaller than he had a moment ago. "man, i was just talking. no need to get aggressive."
"i'm not being aggressive," felix countered, his tone clipped and icy. "i’m telling you to leave. now. take your board and get out of here."
the guy scrambled up, grabbing his board and muttering something about "crazy tourists" before jogging off toward the water.
the second he was gone, the tension in felix’s frame snapped. he let out a jagged breath, his grip on you tightening. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his nose cold against your skin. he didn't move for a long time, just held you there while the waves crashed in the distance.
"lixie? you okay?" you whispered, reaching back to stroke his hair.
"no," he murmured, his voice muffled. "i wasn't even gone for that long. what a dipshit. can't even take no for an answer."
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. the usual spark was replaced by a raw, protective vulnerability. felix was usually the sweetest person you knew, but he had a territorial streak that came out whenever he felt like your safety or comfort was being threatened.
"i don't like being that guy," he admitted, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "the one who gets all possessive and weird. but when i see someone looking at you like that... like you're just something for them to win... it makes me feel like i’m losing my mind."
he sighed, his forehead dropping against yours. "i want to be the sunshine for you, always. but i’ll be the storm too, if i have to. i just want you to be safe."
you smiled, pulling his face closer to yours. "i’m always safe with you, baby. you don't have to worry. besides, it's very sexy."
his expression finally softened, a tiny, shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your nose before leaning back, though he kept you tucked firmly under his arm.
"good," he whispered. "because i’m not leaving your side for the rest of the night. we’re staying right here until the sun is completely gone."
he spent the rest of the evening exactly like that—glued to you, his hand never leaving yours, watching the horizon with a quiet, steady gaze that made it very clear to anyone passing by exactly who you belonged to.
SEUNGMIN
the bookstore was quiet, smelling of old paper and vanilla coffee. it was the kind of place where seungmin could spend hours, his eyes scanning spines with a focused intensity that you always found endearing. he’d spotted a specific edition of a poetry book he’d been hunting for and had disappeared into the back corner of the store, leaving you in the "new releases" section.
you were standing there, tilting your head at a row of thrillers, not exactly sure what you were looking for. you picked one up, reading the jacket blurb, when a guy stepped up beside you.
"that one’s a bit overhyped, honestly."
you looked over to see a guy who looked like he spent a lot of time in libraries—thick glasses, a slightly pretentious hoodie, and an air of confidence that felt a bit forced. he was leaning against the bookshelf, blocking your view of the next row.
"the pacing is all off in the second act," he continued, not waiting for you to ask. "if you want something with actual literary merit, you should be looking at the historical fiction section. i could walk you over there and give you some recommendations. a lot of people struggle with picking the right novel."
you gave a small, awkward laugh. "oh, i’m sure it’s fine. i just liked the cover."
"style over substance," he sighed, shaking his head with a condescending smile. "typical. look, i’ve got a pretty curated list of must-reads. if you give me your number, i can send you a few titles that are actually worth your time."
he leaned in a little closer, his hand reaching out as if to take the book from your hand to put it back on the shelf.
"she’s keeping that one."
seungmin’s voice was like a cold splash of water. it was sharp, precise, and completely devoid of his usual playful teasing. he appeared at your side, not with a flourish, but with a steady, quiet presence that immediately shifted the air in the aisle.
he didn't look at the guy at first. instead, he tucked the poetry book he’d found under his arm and reached out, taking the thriller from your hand and looking at the cover.
"it has a 4.2 rating on most platforms, and the prose is noted for being accessible yet punchy," seungmin said, his tone incredibly dry as he looked at the stranger. "but i’m sure your... curated list is much more impressive."
the guy blinked, his face flushing. "i was just offering some help. she seemed a bit lost."
"she isn't lost," seungmin replied. he didn't raise his voice, but there was a biting edge to it—the seungmin that the members were always wary of. he stepped into the space between you and the guy, his shoulder subtly pushing the stranger back an inch. "and if she wants a recommendation, she’ll ask someone who actually knows her taste. which isn't you."
the guy opened his mouth to say something, but seungmin just raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady and unimpressed. he looked like he was ready to dismantle the guy’s entire personality with a single sentence. the stranger clearly decided it wasn't worth the effort, turning and disappearing into the biography section.
the second he was gone, seungmin let out a quiet scoff. he didn't move away, though. he stayed right in your space, his hand sliding down to grip your wrist gently, his thumb rubbing against your pulse point.
"you were going to let him talk for ten more minutes, weren't you?" he asked, looking down at you. his ears were red, a tell-tale sign that he was much more bothered than he was letting on.
"i was just trying to be polite, min."
"you're too polite," he mumbled, his grip on your wrist tightening just a fraction before he pulled you closer to his side. "he was being a condescending prick. and he was trying to get your number right in front of me. well, almost in front of me."
seungmin let out a frustrated sigh, looking back at the shelf. he wasn't usually the type to make a scene, but when it came to you, his patience for other people was non-existent. he was territorial in a very intellectual, sharp way—he didn't like anyone acting like they knew you better than he did.
"i'm the only one who gets to recommend books to you," he said, his voice dropping to a softer, more private murmur. "because i’m the only one who knows you hate sad endings and that you always skip the middle of long descriptions. i don't need some guy in a scarf trying to fuckin' curate your life."
you smiled, leaning your head against his arm. "are you jealous, kim seungmin?"
"i'm observant," he corrected, though he couldn't hide the small, smug smile that touched his lips when you didn't pull away. "and i don't like people hovering. especially when they’re wrong about the pacing of that thriller. it’s actually very well-regarded."
he led you toward the checkout counter, his hand sliding down to lock fingers with yours. he didn't let go, even when he had to pay, making sure he was positioned between you and the rest of the store. as you walked out, he tucked the bag under his arm and pulled you closer.
"next time," he said, "just tell them you’re with a very mean singer who has no problem being rude in a quiet shop."
"i think they got the message," you teased.
"good," he whispered, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your temple. "they were supposed to."
I.N.
the night market was a blur of neon signs, the smell of spicy rice cakes, and the constant roar of a thousand different conversations. it was loud, crowded, and exactly the kind of place where you could lose someone in seconds.
jeongin had been holding your hand tightly the whole time, but he’d let go for just a moment to elbow his way through a crowd at a street food stall to grab the skewers you’d been eyeing.
you were waiting by a brightly lit claw machine, watching the mechanical arm fail to grab a plush bread roll, when a guy drifted over. he looked like he’d had a few drinks—not enough to be stumbling, but enough to be loud and way too confident.
"man, these things are a scam," he said, leaning his shoulder against the glass of the machine, effectively blocking your view. "you’re never gonna catch that. but hey, if you want something to take home, i’m right here."
you didn't even look at him, keeping your eyes on the joystick. "i'm just waiting for someone."
"he must be a slow guy to leave a girl like you standing in the middle of a crowd," he laughed, reaching out to tap the glass right in front of your face. he was hovering in your personal space, his shadow cutting off the light from the machine. "come on, let me buy you a drink instead of wasting your money on a toy. i know a spot just around the corner that’s way better than this mess."
you started to step away, but the crowd was thick behind you, trapping you between the machine and the stranger. "i said i'm waiting for someone. please move."
"don't be like that," he said, his hand moving as if to reach for your shoulder. "i'm just being—"
"she asked you to move."
jeongin appeared out of the crowd like he’d been launched from a cannon. he didn't look like the baby bread the fans joked about; he looked sharp, his feline eyes narrowed and his jaw set in a hard, uncompromising line. he stepped directly between you and the man, his shoulder knocking the guy back a couple of inches.
he didn't say it loudly, and he didn't make a scene, but the sheer coldness in jeongin’s voice was enough to make the air around you feel brittle. he stood his ground, his height and the sudden, intense presence he carried making him look much older than he was.
"hey, man, back off. we were just talking," the guy snapped, trying to regain his footing.
jeongin didn't flinch. he didn't even blink. he just reached back and grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours with a grip that was borderline bruising. "you were bothering her. she told you to move, and you didn't. so i'm telling you now. get lost before this becomes a bigger problem for you."
the man looked at jeongin—really looked at him—and saw the silent, icy resolve in his gaze. jeongin had a way of looking through people when he was angry, a sharp, piercing stare that made it clear he wasn't playing. the guy muttered a curse under his breath and disappeared back into the sea of people.
the second he was gone, jeongin turned to you. the "scary" version of him evaporated instantly, replaced by a look of pure, frantic worry. he dropped the skewers onto the ledge of the machine and took your face in both of his hands, his thumbs frantically brushing over your cheeks.
"are you okay? did he touch you? i was only gone for a minute, i shouldn't have let go of your hand," he rambled, his voice high and breathless. the adrenaline was still surging through him, making his hands shake just a little.
"innie, i'm all good. you got here before he could even do anything," you said, trying to calm him down.
jeongin let out a long, shaky exhale, leaning his forehead against yours. he closed his eyes, his hands sliding down to rest heavily on your shoulders. "this is crazy," he whispered. "some drunk bastard thinks that he can... that's crazy."
he pulled you into a crushing hug, burying his face in your neck. jeongin was usually the one being pampered by the older members, but when it came to you, he had this fierce, almost desperate need to be the protector. he hated being seen as "young" or "harmless" when it mattered most.
his grip tightening, he mutters against your skin; "i don't want anyone to look at us and think they can just take you away because i’m not enough to keep them back. you’re mine. i need them to know that."
he pulled back, his ears bright red but his eyes steady. he reached down, grabbed the food, and then locked his fingers with yours again—this time, he didn't just hold your hand; he held it like his life depended on it.
"we’re going home," he said firmly, though a shy, dimpled smile finally managed to peek through his serious expression. "and next time, if you want skewers, we’re going together. i’m not letting go of you for the rest of the night."
he led you out of the market, navigating the crowd with a new, confident stride, his shoulder always positioned to block you from anyone else’s view.
