for the falling star, I will be by your side ~ platonic!skz & member!reader
pairing ~ ⁺ ◟platonic!ot8!stray kids x maknae!female!reader
word count ~ ⁺ ◟3.8k wds.
warnings ~ ⁺ ◟second person pov, creeps, mention of scandals, creepy guy, suspicious comments, harassment
notes ~ ⁺ ◟i made it more like a brother-sister relationship between all of them, btw, so sorry if that’s not what u envisioned! thanks so much for the request~
synopsis ~ ⁺ ◟to celebrate your newest and first ambassadorship with dior, your current members plan to surprise you by attending your first event with them. you, unused to being in front of cameras alone without the others and the pressure of upholding the image of your brand, are found by the members cornered by a creeping photographer.
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As the youngest member of Stray Kids, you did have to admit you were coddled rather often, despite your protests. Maybe it was because you joined the group late, your former group having fallen apart from scandals, leaving you the only one clean and heartbroken. Chan, who you had known as a trainee, the girl who he thought of as his little sister away from home, knew how devastated you would be if years and years of training went down the drain. After a long discussion with the company, he surprised you at your dorm: you, the newest and youngest member of Stray Kids.
Grateful for this second chance, you poured yourself into becoming the perfect idol- avoided dating rumors like the plague, trained long into the night perfecting your body control and expressions on stage, always having a witty and fun remark ready during interviews, and showering your fans in adoration.
After all, you knew far better than any member how easily an idol’s career could fall to ruin with a single wrong move. Your leader had been caught on a date and slandered in media, ruining her ‘pure’ image. The former main dancer of your group had gotten injured and forced to take a hiatus during a comeback, and fans called her ungrateful. Your mentor and the group’s lead vocalist faced immense backlash for collaborating with a Western artist who turned out to have committed felonies, despite the collaboration having been pre-recorded and her not knowing at all.
One by one, each of them couldn’t take the constant hatred, and rebelled, despite you begging them not to risk their careers. But as the youngest, they simply shook their heads, and even now, you still heard your leader, adjusting your mic before you went on stage, “One way or another, my name will always be dragged through the mud and spat on. Shouldn’t I at least go out with a show to make them even madder?”
Your leader was caught on film tearing up a far-too revealing dress her ambassadorship had forced her to wear for an event, and instead wearing an outfit she designed for herself.
The main dancer disappeared from interviews, promotions, vlogs, focusing instead on her physical recovery after she had returned from hiatus early due to pressure from the fans, only worsening the injury.
Your lead vocalist had the worst downfall- and as the one you had been the closest to, the one that broke your heart the most. She was caught at clubs, raves, smoking in public, and living an ordinary life. When staff was rude, she would snap back. When they disrespected her, she flat-out refused to cooperate.
A week after none of them renewed their contracts- and neither did you, for without a group, there was nothing you could do- that was when Chan found you. Since that day, you’d found a new family, and this time, you wouldn’t lose them.
Last week, after multiple promotional shoots and collaborations, Dior (Jisung was insanely jealous) finally reached out- asking you to be their global ambassador. Elated to have your first ambassadorship, you immediately agreed, and received a gold-outlined invitation soon after inviting you for your first public appearance for the brand.
“That’s the dress they sent you?” Minho’s nose scrunched up, visible disgust on his face. You didn’t really see the problem- your former leader had been sent more degrading outfits. This one was beautiful, with a sweetheart neckline, a black corset and soft, silvery fabric. It might be a little cold, considering it was sleeveless, but Dior had assured you that you could accessorize however you liked. And the dress went past the knees too, so if you wore stockings and some silk gloves, it’d be alright.
“Might as well have sent you a ball of yarn,” Hyunjin nodded seriously in agreement.
“Why don’t you just wear a hazmat suit instead? I hear those are all the latest rage,” Han joked, causing you to side-eye him.
“You three are way too old-fashioned. Yah, Hyunjin, weren’t you practically undressing on stage at KBS?” you shot, still digging through your jewelry box. You knew you had the perfect golden chain necklace to pair with the dress, but it was nowhere to be found.
It was the last gift from the lead vocalist of your group before she moved to Japan. She knew you didn’t have the heart to give up on your dream quite yet, and it had been your good luck charm for all these years. Every stage outfit, award ceremony, it was always there, tucked under your collar or not, a quiet reminder to stay strong in the industry.
She had texted you after seeing a tweet announcing rumors of your ambassadorship, and you’d confirmed happily that you were accepting the offer. After some well-wishes, she briefly mentioned she’d look for livestreams of you on the red carpet, and you wanted to show her you were still doing well. That you still remembered your old group.
“Looking for this?” Chan stood by the doorway, with the necklace in his palm. You smiled in delight, nodding.
“Here, sit down. I’ll help you put it on. Are you that excited for tonight?” Chan teased, unclipping the back of the chain.
“Of course! Ah, I hope I do alright in front of the cameras.” Cameras had always been your weakness. No time to prepare a response beforehand, they were quick and instantaneous, directions coming at you from all directions. Over the years, you’d gotten the hang of switching poses and following orders by photographers, but you’ve always had your members with you, there as a safeguard if you missed an instruction or faced the wrong way. They were there to point out which cameras to look at, and never let the photographers take up too much time.
“You’ll do fine,” Felix snorted, strolling in without a single regard and plopping onto your bed. “Hey, why’s your dress so revealing? Where are the sleeves?”
“This is coming from Mister Flash-STAYs-After-Every-Concert?” you scoffed, running a hand through your hair. “And you have like, eight ambassadorships, you can’t talk.”
“Yeah, leave some for the rest of us,” Hyunjin grinned.
“Don’t you have enough already?” Minho raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, look at Sir Gucci over here-”
“Okay, ‘Versace Prince’? Sound familiar?”
“What do you think the fans will call her, then?” Changbin was here too, it turns out. Your room was getting pretty cramped, but Felix scooted aside on your bed, leaving Changbin space to flop across his stomach. “Dior Queen?”
Jeongin, scrolling on his phone, took a spot against the wall as he walked in. “STAY’s actually betting on that right now. Dior Fairy is in the lead, so far.”
You smiled at your maknae-partner-in-crime. “I like that one.”
“Yeah, you’re as short as a fairy,” Seungmin added, eyeing the dress on your closet hangar and grimacing. “What is that, a garbage bag?”
“It’s called fashion, Seungmin, which you clearly don’t have.” you stuck your tongue out at the menace, who responded by pinching your cheek. “Ow! Kim Seungmin!”
“Go poke Innie’s cheeks, Seungmin,” Chan suggested. “He seems unoccupied.”
“Hey, why me???”
You laughed as Seungmin eagerly caught a mid-escape I.N, both of them tripping and falling onto Changbin on the bed, who let out an oomph.
This was your new family. Eight loud and annoying brothers who didn’t know anything about personal space, but you loved them nonetheless (Except maybe during game night. There was no love to be had during Monopoly when Felix makes you pay him for landing on Boardwalk Ave.)
No matter what, you would never risk losing them.
***********************
Everything had been going fine. Why had it gone wrong? Why did you end up like this? The red carpet had gone smoothly, you had obeyed every instruction with a perfect smile, greeting every staff and guest with a warm tone and then he was there.
Immediately, he gave you the creeps, shivers all over your body that you blamed on the crisp autumn air. His gaze had been fixated on you for a while, occasionally even biting his lip and eyes scanning you all over shamelessly. Not only, but you had seen him even feeling up other women in the crowd, many who looked at him with disgust, but in a gala full of cameras, you couldn’t omit greeting a single guest who you came across.
You’d smiled politely, shaking his hand, managing to pull away with some decorum despite his grip lingering. He’d merely responded to your greeting with an “uh-huh”, looking everywhere except meeting your eyes. And when he did, something seemed so malicious about it, the way his eyes narrowed, crinkling underneath, the toothy grin he gave you, the same look that leering staff had given the vocalist of your group before she chewed them out with a biting ferocity.
But you couldn’t. Couldn’t find the bravery, with all eyes on you as the newest ambassador of the event host. All you could do was nod once again, the smile on your face quickly losing its sincerity, and find your seat as the lights dimmed.
Four hours of socializing and networking later, mentally drained, you found a secluded corner of the ballroom. Seeing no cameras around, you breathed a small sigh of relief, leaning down to adjust your heels before the open-guest part of the gala began- as in, those who had bought tickets could come to spectate the newest fashion collections and begin placing orders. As one of the models for the latest line of the Dior makeup, you definitely needed a quick breather before going to the stylist to prepare.
Hearing footsteps, you quickly stood up straight, heel strap still half-loose. It didn’t do good to look undignified in front of the media- so you quickly smiled, ready to greet whoever was approaching- until you saw those eyes.
The same man, the same photographer from before. Every survival instinct told you to nod, wave politely, and take off. Hide in the crowd. Every sign told you he was up to no good.
But your eyes were fixated on the camera around his neck. One finger hovering over the record button, ready to broadcast scandal to the world.
It was a memory that had stained you for years. That lead vocalist of your group, who you admired and followed dutifully like a bright-eyed deer, was cornered backstage before a performance. You had searched the whole set for her at the staff’s instructions, only to hear jeers and boos erupting from the crowd. There, on the screen, was a live playback of the staff member attempting to feel her up, only for her to resort to physically shoving him away when demands failed.
The clip had gone viral in a matter of hours. Apparently, that was the last straw of the ‘fans’, the same ones who had worshipped her like some divine being instead of a human with a heart, were now slandering her for supposedly acting high and mighty. Not even two days later, the company sent out official notice that she was going on an extended break.
That extended break turned into a refusal to resign her contract when the time rolled around.
The fear gnawed at you, crawling under your skin, whispering inside your head. Forcing you to open your mouth and greet him. Screaming at you to ignore the way his tongue swept across his lower lip.
You took a slow step backwards when he took one forward. Then another. And then you felt the wall behind you, and he wasn’t stopping his advance either.
It was a secluded corner. Just outside the ballroom, near the bathrooms, but with all the models having to go to the stylists soon, none of them could afford to be late with a quick trip to the restroom.
He made a comment about your dress. The deep neckline. It seemed to be buzzing like television feedback in your ears, as you looked everywhere except at him.
Then one hand was placed on your shoulder, a sick feeling pulsing through your body. You tried to politely decline. Change the topic. All the words leaving your mouth felt so foreign, as if you had lost control of your body, unable to fight, defenseless and at the whims of everything that had haunted you in the past.
You thought it would be easy. Your members had tried to convince you to leave the industry with them, but you thought you were strong. Hubris convinced you it’d be simple and easy to avoid making waves in the media. This was your dream after all.
Was it your dream to be subjected like a wounded lamb to every flashing light?
The hand didn’t stop at the shoulder. It moved towards your chin, one thumb about to swipe over your lips, and you couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t scream out for help. A distant announcement told you it was the final call for all models to head to their fitting rooms.
“Shouldn’t you go get ready?” he crooned. “Or are you having too much fun here, slu-”
One singular instinct kicked in. A single moment where you came back to your body, but an instant was all you needed. All because of a strange, distant memory from the first mistake you’d made as a member of Stray Kids.
One night, you’d been crying after a stumble in a performance, and the boys had come to console you when you skipped dinner. And despite your screams and protests, all eight had tackled you in a dogpile, practically suffocating you but you were laughing through the tears, the memory of your mistake swept away by the moment.
“I know the voices get loud sometimes. We’re always here to swat them away, okay? You just need to call for us.”
“Yeah! Swat those voices away like bugs!”
“Oh, what’re you gonna do, use taekwondo on imaginary voices?”
“You’re our little sister now, don’t be worried!”
“If you want, you can come to the gym with me, we can get shredded and fight the media together!”
“Yeah, who would ever dare speak up against Seungmin’s noodle arms?”
“I’m going to cancel your Crunchyroll subscription if you say that again.”
“The point is,” Chan cleared his throat, wiping one stray tear away. “We protect each other. You don’t have to cry alone anymore. Just one word, and we’ll be there, alright? No matter what.”
So, you screamed. As loudly as you could, even if your brothers were asleep and a city away, they would protect you in the strength they gave you. Knowing that even if you were caught, even if you were dragged through the mud online, they would be there for you.
Little did you know, they weren’t a city away. They’d been waiting in your fitting room, Felix holding a cake, all of them ready to surprise you. But one, two, five minutes after all models had been called to their rooms- yet yours still stood vacant, all of them knew something was wrong. You were practically the epitome of timeliness- usually kicking each of them out of bed on busy schedule days. Once, in Han’s case, you had dragged him by the ankles downstairs and onto the car when he refused to wake up, still clutching his pillow.
Maybe you were ill? In that case, Hyunjin (using his brain, for once) deduced you’d probably be in the bathrooms. Chan, Minho, and Changbin went to search the second floor, Felix and Han took the left wing atrium, Seungmin and Jeongin tried the right, and Hyunjin was about to follow them until he heard your scream.
Not a single subtle bone in his body, he took off in that direction, turning a corner, and seeing the man holding a hand over your mouth after you had screamed out, the other hand toying with the straps of your dress. Pale and paralyzed with fear, your eyes darted towards the sound of footsteps, though the man somehow hadn’t realized someone was there, caught up in his ‘success’.
Hyunjin. By some miracle, who knew how, he was there. It didn’t even take him a second to realize you needed help.
Obviously, the most reasonable thing to do was grab the glass wine cup at the table beside him, sneak up behind the man, and the moment his head swiveled around, smash it against his forehead.
You could’ve laughed with relief as you slumped against the floor, heart threatening to give out. At the crash, the rest of the members on the first floor came running over, seeing you curled into a ball, tears glistening and head buried in your knees as Hyunjin continued to spit venom at the bleeding man, clutching his skull and howling in misery.
The phrase Felix sees, Felix does, certainly applied, because Felix didn’t even hesitate before joining Hyunjin in beating the man up. Bruises had already began to swell over, a black eye apparent, but that visibly wasn’t enough to satisfy the pair.
Jeongin went to you first, glaring at the man all while holding your head to his chest gently. You continued to cry, Seungmin rubbing your back assuredly, showing a considerable amount of restraint to not beating the crap out of the photographer.
By the time Seungmin had texted the three eldest members to come over, the camera lay broken and lens shattered somewhere a dozen feet away.
Of course, Chan went into crisis management mode. He texted everyone, all his connections, your stylist, personal manager, a few Dior staff members, that there had been an ‘unfortunate accident’ where a man had attempted to attack you when you were alone. All attendees were simply told that there had been a commotion caused by a violent man, which you happened to be in the vicinity of, and the event was placed on pause.
“Hey, you want me to tell the police that you beat him up all by yourself?” Changbin joked softly. All of you were currently in your dressing room, a blanket wrapped around you tightly. By the time security arrived, the man had been beaten in such terrible shape that it took them half an hour to identify what he looked like beneath Hyunjin, Felix, Changbin, and Han’s pummeling.
“I GOT THE HOT CHOCOLATE!” Han yelled in victory, stumbling into the room with a steaming thermos. You tried to smile gratefully as he handed it to you. None of the members had yet to ask what happened, thankfully, because you were still unravelling from the events and fear paralysis. Chan had insisted on finding you a medic, but after a short checkup, the worried members were told that you were still in shock.
“Why does it look like it’s more marshmallow than hot chocolate?” Minho raised an eyebrow disapprovingly.
“Because I care,” Han sniped back. A small chuckle escaped you, and all your members quickly turned to look at you.
“She speaks!” Jeongin gasped, causing you to glare at him witheringly. That didn’t stop Felix from poking your cheeks, a bright grin on his face, despite your attempts to escape his cuddly affection.
“I’m ordering takeout from the jajangmyeon place near our dorms. You want anything?” Hyunjin asked you. You thought for a bit, and Hyunjin walked up to you to show you the online ordering app.
“I already ordered seven spicy pork black bean combos-”
“Are you trying to kill our old man?” Changbin gasped incredulously. “You know that dad here can’t eat anything spicier than lemonade, right?”
“I’ve seen him choke on lemonade before, so we might need to reconsider that,” Seungmin scoffed. Chan rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated at his children’s antics.
“I’ll just have a sesame jajangmyeon. Have you decided yet?” he glanced at you, who was still concentratedly scrolling through the phone. Han leaned over to spy, and immediately grabbed the phone from you without warning.
“Yah! Why’re you scrolling through Dispatch?” Han accused, his voice a bit louder. All the other members turned alert, joking expressions fading into the worry they had all been hiding for the past hour.
You pulled the blanket tighter around you, staring at the ground, trying to hide the tears prickling at your eyes.
The others looked at each other, and Jeongin first got on his knees, forcing you to stare at him, body quivering.
“Nobody’s going to harass you about what happened,” Jeongin began. “And it’s definitely, definitely not your fault.”
You still didn’t speak, eyes glued to the phone Han had confiscated from you. Following your gaze, Han tossed Hyunjin’s phone into the trash can.
“I’m going to need that back.” Hyunjin muttered, but his tone softened towards you. “And you… anyone who tries to spread misinformation about you will end up like that guy, got it? We’ll make sure of it.”
A chorus of agreements, and finally, the tears all flooded out of you. Chan held you against his chest, gently rubbing the back of your head.
“There’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?” Chan asked quietly. “The reason you weren’t able to fight back.”
Through some miracle, you managed to hiccup out a few words, leaning back to wipe your eyes. “You’re my family. I didn’t want to lose you because of a scandal or hate. So I couldn’t move- I- I got scared- it was like I was frozen, and what if you didn’t want me in Stray Kids anymore? Because I couldn’t even handle such a small problem like this professionally?”
Chan’s brow furled. “That wasn’t a small problem, and don’t try to downgrade it. You were in immediate danger, your career should’ve been the last thing on your mind.”
“You handled that better than any of us could’ve, let’s be honest,” Seungmin added. “Didn’t Hyunjin practically leap at the man and crack a bottle over his head?”
“And I stand by it,” Hyunjin said proudly. “But promise us this, okay? Your career, us, we should never come before yourself.”
“You’re not going to get rid of us that easily,” Felix assured. You stifled a laugh that came out more like a sob, accepting the tissues that Minho handed you.
“We’re always going to be nine, okay? Don’t ever doubt it. Stray Kids doesn’t need perfect, just you.”
