this account is for me to escape from the real world. i do not and will not post here. only reblogs of written works i personally enjoy. mdni. please keep in mind, that all of the reblogs are FICTIONAL, and should not be taken seriously!!
synopsis: working in a quaint little art store, you’ve had the honor of meeting all kinds of people, but you’ve never met somebody like him.
there were many reasons hyunjin returned to his hometown; a getaway from the ephemeral and fast-paced life of the city, so he could fall in love with life again.
he thought he was prepared for everything, to study art in the way that he’s always wanted to, but what he didn’t anticipate was meeting you.
hwang hyunjin realises that sometimes, the best things in life happen unplanned.
pairing: idol! hyunjin x artist! reader
fic type: written series
genre: friends to lovers, so much angst, mature content, smut, fluff, set in the idolverse, mutual pining, unrequited love, forbidden (?) romance, slowburn (!), soulmate au (kind of), star-crossed lovers
status: ongoing.
if you’d like to support me and my writing, you can buy me a coffee here! thank you so much.
comment to be a part of the taglist, if you’re interested !
playlist | my discord server | moodboard #1 #2 #3 #4
1. the boy in the art store
2. the night at the bowling alley
3. strawberry streusel
4. endless supply of twinkies
5. the aftermath
6. the perfect present
7. remnants of dreams
8. neon painted hearts
9. the morning after
10. the tickets were just an excuse
11. imagine you in the night sky
12. the summer carnival and him
13. his love account book
14. farewell, neverland
15. cruel summer
16. mosaic broken hearts
17. right where you left me
18. i hate you seoul
19. stay
20. lucky girl syndrome
21. i wanna be yours
⇢
anon list (taken emojis) 🧚♀️
⇢
important: all works are fiction, and do not in any way represent the real personalities or real people, they exist only as faceclaims, and are fictional characters.
some of the stories may contain mature content, only interact with if 18+, warnings are mentioned before each part. my page, and the stories are not intended to be read by minors.
please scroll past my blog if you’re uncomfortable with fanfiction as a form of creative writing. thank you !
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦ All writing on this blog is my original work. Please don’t copy, repost, or claim it as your own. If you'd like to share, link back to the my original post and give proper credit / permission.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦ disclaimer: All characters, events, and situations in my stories are completely fictional. Any resemblance to real people, places, or events is purely coincidental.
🎖️— must read / personal fave
જ⁀➴ BANG CHAN 🐺
Clingy Mornings 🎖️
Between Stages Part Two 🎖️
Your Favorite Aussie
CPR: Chan’s Possessive Rxn 🎖️
Fated Meetings
New Level Unlocked
Love Me Right Part Two Part Three
SKZ’s Little Princess (Dad!Chan & Uncle!SKZ)
Unknown Lover | two 🎖️
જ⁀➴ LEE KNOW 🐰
Moments that Lingered 🎖️
Sneaky Steps
Room For Me
Shattered Silence | Part Two
My Little Dancer (platonic) 🎖️
Cursed To Be Yours | Part Two 🎖️
જ⁀➴ SEO CHANGBIN 🐷
You’ll Never Be Alone
Where I Used To Be
Between Sets 🎖️
જ⁀➴ HWANG HYUNJIN 🦙
My Soulmate is Hwang Hyunjin
Midnight Confession 🎖️
His Chaos
Where I Used To Be
Perfectly Ours
Baby Fever 🎖️
Every Version Loved
Story of Us — short series
જ⁀➴ HAN JISUNG 🐿️
You’re Mine 🎖️
Room For Me
Perfectly Ours
જ⁀➴ LEE FELIX 🐥
Always by Your Side 🎖️
Your Favorite Aussie (platonic)
જ⁀➴ KIM SEUNGMIN 🐶
After the Rain
When Worlds Collide 🎖️
When Worlds Collide, Again 🎖️
When you’re Ready
Taste of Both (ft. seungcheol)
જ⁀➴ YANG JEONGIN 🦊
Gentle Love
Worthy of You 🎖️
˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ OT8 ˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆
Where the Silence Began | Where the Silence Began II
Eight Apologies | two | three | four 🎖️
The Hollow | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight
Before it’s Too Late
Amidst the Chaos
Almost Lost | two | three 🎖️
For Life
The Ninth Star
Almost a Stray
Always Nine
SKZOO Guardian 🎖️
Stay with Us 🎖️
Here for You
Scar Reveal
Dancing in Silence
Afterthought | two 🎖️
Stay A While
Bruises | Part Two
જ⁀➴ REACTIONS
Starstruck — skz films with idol!reader
Private Show — skz imagines reader in lingerie
Accidentally Kiss — skz accidentally kisses reader
Table Talk — skz when reader farts in a serious moment
I Think I Like… — skz when reader listens to a sad song
Say it Again — skz when you call him oppa
Naked-Handed — skz when you take off your wedding ring 🎖️
My Strong Girl — skz taking care of you
Stupid Bra — skz struggling to take off your bra 🎖️
Mascot Rivalry — skz jealous of their skzoo mascots
Pepero Game — skz plays pepero game with their crush 🎖️
Bride To Be — skz’s fiance having a bachelorette party
Bad Timing — skz getting interrupted during a heated moment 🎖️
જ⁀➴ HEADCANONS
Comfort in Quiet — skz with mute reader
YOUNGER GIRLFRIEND SERIES 🎖️
OLDER GIRLFRIEND SERIES 🎖️
ROMANTIC PURSUIT SERIES 🎖️
THE CHASE SERIES
જ⁀➴ OTHERS:
The Carat Maknae — SVT joshua x SKZ 9th member
Lovesick Tiger — SVT hoshi
Silent Sacrifice — SVT seungcheol x idol!reader 🎖️
Taste of Both — SVT seungcheol x reader x SKZ seungmin
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦ notes: I love hearing from you guys. Please feel free to drop requests or ask questions if you have! 💌
A sheltered girl escapes her controlling family and finds refuge with eight wary boys in a quiet village. Though two offer kindness, the rest remain guarded due to past betrayal.
As she struggles to adapt to a simple life, her inexperience causes tension, leaving her desperate to prove she belongs—while their trust hangs by a thread.
Just as something soft begins to grow between them, the past comes crashing back in, dragging secrets and expectations with it. Misunderstandings cut deep, leaving words unsaid and hearts unguarded.
And when everything finally falls apart, one question lingers—was it love they lost, or trust they never truly had to begin with?
❛ ━━━━━━･❪skz❫･━━━━━━ ❜
“You’re not listening.”
Your father’s voice cut cleanly through the silence, sharp as the knife resting beside his plate.
You didn’t look up. “I am.”
“Then repeat what I said.”
Your grip tightened around your fork until your knuckles turned white.
Across from you, your mother sighed, already irritated, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping against the edge of her wine glass.
“Don’t make this difficult. We’re only asking what’s best for you.”
Best.
That word had always sounded like a threat wrapped in silk.
“You’ll attend the meeting next week,” your father continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ll be introduced properly this time. No excuses.”
“I said I don’t want to.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them, hanging in the air like smoke.
Silence. Heavy.
Your father set his glass down slowly, the soft clink echoing louder than it should have. “You don’t want to?”
Your heart pounded against your ribs, but something in you—something that had been building for years, cracking under the weight of endless expectations—finally pushed back.
“I don’t want to live like this.”
Your mother laughed, but there was no humor in it, only disbelief and thinly veiled annoyance. “Like what? Comfortable? Provided for? Everything handed to you on a silver platter?”
“Controlled,” you shot back, the word tasting bitter but freeing on your tongue.
The word landed harder than you expected.
Your father’s expression changed instantly. Cold. Final. Like a door slamming shut.
“You are not in a position to complain,” he said, each word deliberate and heavy with warning. “Everything you have is because of us.”
“And everything I am isn’t mine,” you shot back, voice trembling but steady enough to hold.
That did it.
The chair scraped loudly as he stood, towering over the table. “Enough.”
Your body went rigid, every muscle locking in place.
“You will follow what we planned,” he said, each word deliberate. “Or you will learn what it means to lose it.”
Lose it.
The house. The money. The life. The cage.
That night, you didn’t cry.
You packed.
Quietly. Efficiently.
Not the designer bags or the expensive luggage that screamed privilege.
Just practical clothes you could move in and the stack of cash you had withdrawn weeks ago—just in case you ever found the courage to actually leave.
You stared at your credit cards for a long moment, the sleek plastic feeling heavier than it should.
Then left them on the desk, right beside your phone.
Tracking devices disguised as privilege.
You didn’t want anything that could lead them back to you.
By the time the sun rose—
You were gone.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The bus ride felt unreal, like stepping into someone else’s dream.
Each mile put more distance between you and everything you had ever known, the familiar weight of control slowly lifting from your shoulders.
Tall buildings faded into smaller ones, then into scattered houses.
Concrete gave way to open land, endless fields rolling under a wide sky.
Noise dissolved into quiet, the constant hum of the city replaced by the low rumble of the engine and the occasional chirp of birds outside.
By the time you stepped off at the last stop, the air felt unfamiliar in your lungs.
Cleaner.
Fresher.
But thinner somehow.
Like you didn’t quite belong in it yet.
The bus pulled away in a cloud of dust, leaving you alone on the side of a narrow road.
A small waiting shed stood nearby, paint slightly chipped, surrounded by fields that stretched endlessly toward the horizon.
No guards. No cameras. No expectations.
Just…Nothing.
Your chest tightened with a sudden wave of uncertainty.
For a second—you almost turned back, the old fear whispering that this was a mistake.
“Miss?”
You froze.
Slowly, you turned.
Two boys stood a few feet away.
One had soft blonde hair, his expression open and warm in a way that immediately made your guard falter just a little. The other stood beside him, observant but calm, his gaze scanning you carefully, taking in your simple bag and tired posture.
“You just got off that bus, right?” the blonde one asked gently, his voice carrying a kind lilt.
You nodded, instinctively clutching your bag tighter against your side.
“Do you… have somewhere to go?” the other asked, his tone polite but direct.
You hesitated, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue.
“No.”
They exchanged a quick look.
Silent.
A decision passing between them without words.
“I’m Felix,” the blonde said, offering a small, reassuring smile. “And this is Jeongin.”
Jeongin gave a slight nod, his eyes still cautious but not unkind. “There aren’t a lot of places around here. Not ones you can just walk into without any plans.”
You let out a quiet breath, the weight of your situation pressing down again. “I figured that out too late.”
Felix scratched the back of his neck, glancing at Jeongin before looking back at you with gentle concern.
“You can stay with us for now.”
Your head snapped up. “What?”
“Just until you figure things out,” he added quickly, hands raised in a placating gesture. “We couldn’t just leave you here all alone.”
You frowned, suspicion flickering through you. “You don’t even know me.”
Jeongin shrugged lightly, though his stance remained steady. “We know enough.”
“That you’re alone,” Felix said softly, his eyes meeting yours with quiet understanding.
That shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did, but it did—right in the center of your chest.
You looked away first, biting the inside of your cheek.
Every instinct screamed at you to refuse, to keep running.
But you had nowhere else to go, and the fields around you suddenly felt too vast and empty.
“…Just for a bit,” you said finally, voice barely above a whisper.
Felix smiled, bright and genuine.
Jeongin nodded, satisfied.
And just like that—
You followed them down the quiet path.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Their house came into view after a short walk through the winding village road.
It wasn’t big.
Not impressive or luxurious in any way.
But it felt… alive.
Shoes scattered by the door. Open windows letting in the breeze. The faint sound of music playing somewhere inside, mixed with distant voices and laughter.
Felix stepped in first, calling out cheerfully, “We’re back!”
The noise inside stopped abruptly.
Footsteps approached quickly.
You barely had time to brace yourself before they appeared.
One by one.
Eyes landing on you.
Assessing.
Questioning.
Unwelcoming—but not cruel.
Just… careful. Wary. Like strangers walking into their safe space.
“…Who is she?” one asked, arms already crossed over his chest, brow furrowed.
Felix didn’t hesitate. “She needed help.”
“That’s not an answer,” another replied, tone flat.
Jeongin stepped forward slightly, his voice steady. “She doesn’t have anywhere to stay.”
A pause stretched out, thick with tension.
Then another voice, sharper—“So you brought her here? Just like that?”
Your fingers curled at your sides, tension coiling in your stomach.
“I can leave,” you said quickly, already taking a small step back. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” Felix cut in, firmer than before, his hand gently touching your arm to stop you.
It surprised everyone. Even you.
“She’s staying,” he said, his usual softness edged with resolve.
The room went still.
One of them—tall, serious—exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair in clear frustration. “You don’t know anything about her.”
Another spoke, quieter but colder, his eyes narrowing slightly. “People don’t just show up here with no story. No explanation.”
They weren’t wrong.
Your chest tightened, the weight of their suspicion pressing against you.
Jeongin’s voice softened, but there was an edge of protectiveness to it. “Not everyone has bad intentions.”
“Or maybe we’re just not stupid,” someone muttered under their breath, low but audible.
Silence stretched.
Uncomfortable.
Heavy.
You could feel every second of it pressing into your skin, making the air feel thicker.
Finally—
“…How long?” one asked, the question directed more at Felix than at you.
Felix didn’t look away from the group. “Until she figures things out.”
A long pause followed, filled with reluctant consideration.
Then a sigh.
“Fine.”
Not welcoming.
Not warm.
But not a outright refusal either.
“We’re watching you,” another added bluntly, his gaze lingering on you with clear caution.
You nodded slightly, swallowing the lump in your throat.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The eight of them stood in the living room, the air thick with unspoken tension. The faint hum of the old ceiling fan did nothing to ease the stiffness that had settled over the group the moment you were shown to the small guest room at the end of the hallway. Felix and Jeongin had insisted on giving you some space to settle in, but the others weren’t ready to let the conversation drop.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, Chan crossed his arms, his usual calm leader demeanor cracking just enough to show the frustration underneath. “What the hell were you two thinking?”
Felix shifted his weight, blonde hair falling slightly over his eyes as he met Chan’s gaze without flinching. “She was alone at the bus stop. No plan, nothing. We couldn’t just leave her there.”
Jeongin nodded beside him, younger but steady. “It’s getting dark soon. The next bus won’t come until tomorrow afternoon. Where was she supposed to sleep? In the fields?”
Minho leaned against the wall, his sharp eyes narrowing. “So you bring her straight into our home?” His voice was low, controlled, but the edge was unmistakable. “We don’t know her. She could be anyone.”
Seungmin, sitting on the arm of the couch, let out a dry laugh that held no humor. “Exactly. People don’t just appear out of nowhere in a place like this without a reason. And you two decided to play heroes?”
Hyunjin paced a few steps, long fingers running through his hair. “We’ve talked about this. No outsiders. Not after what happened.”
The room grew heavier at the mention.
Two years ago, there had been nine of them.
Until she—the ninth—had quietly packed her things one night and left without a real goodbye. Later they found out she had been seeing someone else for months. The betrayal had cut deep, especially for the younger ones. Most of them had cried for days. Some had shut down completely, barely speaking for weeks. The rest had pieced themselves back together slowly, reinforcing the walls around their eight-person relationship with fierce protectiveness.
Chan exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We barely recovered from the last time. We can’t risk that again. Not when we finally feel stable.”
“We’re not asking you to date her,” Jeongin said quietly, but firmly. “We’re just giving her a roof for a couple of nights. She said she left a bad situation. She didn’t even want to tell us more than that.”
Felix stepped closer to the group, his voice soft but determined. “She looked scared, hyungs. Really scared. Like she was running from something heavy. I couldn’t ignore that. Neither could Innie.”
Minho’s jaw tightened. “And what if she’s lying? What if she’s here to take advantage? We worked too hard to build this life together—quiet, away from everything. Just us.”
Changbin, who had been listening with his arms folded, finally spoke up, his deep voice rumbling. “Hyung… they have a point though.” He glanced at Felix and Jeongin, then back at the older members. “It’s not like we have to be with her. She’s not moving in permanently. Just helping someone who’s clearly in trouble.”
Jisung, perched on the edge of the couch, nodded slowly, his usual playful energy tempered by thoughtfulness. “Felix and Jeongin are right. It’s just kindness. We don’t have to trust her with everything. We can keep our distance.”
Seungmin raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “You’re serious?”
“I’m not saying we throw a welcome party,” Jisung replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “But kicking her out right now would make us the assholes. She can stay until she finds somewhere else. That’s all.”
Hyunjin stopped pacing, sighing as he dropped onto the couch beside Jisung. “Fine. But we watch her. Closely. No alone time with any of us until we know more. And the moment she gives us a reason to doubt her—”
“We’ll handle it,” Chan finished, his tone final but a touch less harsh. He looked at Felix and Jeongin, eyes softening just a fraction. “You two… your hearts are too big sometimes. We love you for it but we protect ourselves first. All of us. Together.”
Felix offered a small, grateful smile. “We know, hyung. We’re not trying to break anything. Just… help.”
Jeongin added quietly, “She can leave as soon as she’s ready. We promise.”
The group fell into a reluctant silence, the decision hanging in the air—cautious acceptance, layered with heavy layers of past hurt and fierce loyalty.
Outside the living room, in the quiet guest room, you sat on the edge of the narrow bed, unaware of the conversation unfolding about you. The voices were muffled, but the weight of their wariness still lingered like an invisible barrier.
For now, you were safe.
And that was more than you had dared to hope for when you stepped off that bus.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The next morning arrived quietly, sunlight filtering through the thin curtains of the small guest room. You woke early, heart still racing from the unfamiliar silence—no maids knocking, no schedule waiting, no expectations pressing down on you.
You wandered the narrow village paths, the cool morning air carrying the scent of damp earth and distant cooking fires. The province felt even smaller in daylight—scattered houses, a modest market square with a few stalls, a tiny general store, and an old community bulletin board pinned with faded notices.
You asked around carefully, voice hesitant, about any room for rent or simple jobs available.
Most people were kind but practical. “Rooms are scarce this time of year,” an elderly woman at the market told you with a sympathetic tilt of her head. “And work… well, what can you do, dear?”
You had no answer.
Your life had been filled with private tutors, lavish events, and staff who handled every chore.
Cooking? Cleaning? Manual labor? You knew none of it.
The few inquiries for help—at the local café, the small farm stand, even the laundry service—ended the same way: polite rejections once they realized you had no skills, no references, and no idea how to start.
By midday, your feet ached and your hope had thinned. You returned to the house with empty hands and a heavier chest, the reality of your escape settling in like dust.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
At home, the tension only grew.
You tried to help. Desperately.
The first afternoon, you offered to wash the dishes after lunch. When they finished, you stood quickly, stacking plates with careful hands.
“I can do this,” you said softly, carrying them to the sink.
It started well enough. But the soap slipped through your fingers like oil. A glass tumbled, shattering against the tiled floor with a sharp crack. You froze, heart leaping into your throat as water splashed everywhere.
Minho appeared first, brow furrowed. “Careful—” He knelt to pick up the shards, voice tight. “Just… leave it. We’ll handle it.”
You tried again the next day with laundry.
Felix had shown you how to sort the clothes and use the old washing machine, his instructions patient and kind. But you overloaded it, forgot to check the pockets, and when the cycle ended, one of Seungmin’s favorite hoodies came out stained with ink from a forgotten pen. The fabric was ruined, the dark blotch spreading like an accusation.
Seungmin stared at it for a long moment, jaw clenched. “It’s fine,” he muttered, though his tone said otherwise. “Accidents happen.” But the way he folded it away carefully, almost protectively, made your stomach twist.
Cooking attempts fared no better.
On the third evening, you volunteered to peel vegetables while Changbin prepared dinner. The knife felt foreign in your grip—too heavy, too unfamiliar. You nicked your finger twice, blood mixing with the carrot peels, and then dropped the whole bowl of chopped onions, sending them scattering across the floor.
The sting in your eyes wasn’t just from the onions.
Hyunjin sighed, rubbing his temples as he helped clean up. “You don’t have to force yourself,” he said, not unkindly, but the frustration was clear beneath the surface. “We’ve been doing this for years without extra hands.”
Chan watched from the doorway, arms crossed, his leader instincts kicking in. He didn’t raise his voice, but his words carried weight. “Look, we get that you’re trying. But this house runs on routine. We can’t afford broken dishes or ruined clothes every day. It’s… stressful.”
The younger ones felt it too. Jeongin tried to smooth things over, offering quiet encouragement when he caught you looking defeated, but even he winced when you accidentally knocked over a potted plant while sweeping, dirt spilling across the wooden floor.
Over the next few days, the frustration built like storm clouds. The boys moved around you with careful distance—polite enough not to be cruel, but clearly on edge.
Conversations in the living room grew shorter when you entered.
Shared meals felt heavier, the clink of chopsticks louder in the awkward silences.
Jisung, who had started to soften, would still crack a small joke now and then, but even he retreated when another mishap occurred. Changbin would mutter under his breath about “one more broken thing” before catching himself and offering a half-hearted “It’s okay.”
You felt every glance, every sigh, every muttered comment like walking on eggshells. The house that had offered shelter now pressed in, reminding you how out of place you truly were.
Your luxurious past had left you unprepared for this simple life, and the gap showed in every clumsy movement, every failed attempt to prove you belonged—even temporarily.
At night, alone in the guest room, you stared at the ceiling, the muffled sounds of the eight of them talking in low voices filtering through the walls.
You knew they were discussing you again.
Protecting their tight-knit world. And part of you wondered how much longer you could stay before they asked you to leave.
But you had nowhere else.
Not yet.
So you kept trying, even as the tension thickened and the boys’ patience wore thinner with every passing day.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The days blurred together in a quiet rhythm of small, unseen efforts.
You kept trying, even when the clumsiness lingered.
But you learned to do it when no one seemed to be watching—early mornings or late evenings when the house was still half-asleep or busy with their own routines.
One evening, after everyone had scattered to their rooms or the backyard, you slipped into the kitchen.
Using the last of the cash you had carefully counted from your dwindling stash, you had walked to the village market earlier that day and bought groceries.
Nothing fancy. Just more than enough to get by.
You followed a recipe torn from an old magazine you found in a drawer, moving slowly, deliberately. Your hands still trembled a little with the knife, but you didn’t drop anything this time.
The stew simmered gently, filling the kitchen with a warm, savory scent.
You set the table quietly—eight bowls, chopsticks arranged neatly—then retreated to the guest room before anyone noticed.
When they gathered for dinner, you heard the surprised murmurs through the thin walls.
“Who made this?” Changbin’s deep voice carried first, curious rather than suspicious.
“It’s… actually good,” Seungmin added after a moment, sounding almost reluctant.
Jeongin stayed quiet, but you caught the small smile in his tone when he said, “She must’ve done it while we weren’t looking.”
Over the following days, more small things piled up unnoticed at first.
You swept the porch at dawn. You folded laundry when they were out in the fields or running errands. You even managed to fix a loose cabinet handle with a screwdriver you found in a toolbox, though it took you nearly an hour of fumbling.
They noticed the changes gradually—the house a little tidier, meals occasionally appearing without anyone claiming responsibility, the grocery supply quietly replenished with your remaining money.
The skepticism didn’t vanish, but it softened around the edges for some of them. Changbin started leaving small notes of thanks on the counter. Jisung would hum approvingly when he found his favorite snacks restocked. Felix and Jeongin smiled at you more openly, their encouragement gentle and consistent.
Eventually, the house learned to exist with you in it—not as a central part, but as a quiet presence in the background. You moved like a shadow, helpful but unobtrusive. They stopped tensing every time you entered a room. Conversations flowed a little freer around you.
The frustration from your earlier clumsiness faded into tolerant acceptance.
You were there, and for now, that was… manageable.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Then, you started noticing things.
Little moments that didn’t quite fit the “brothers” image you had assumed.
Hyunjin would lean into Seungmin’s side on the couch while they watched an old movie, fingers intertwined casually.
Changbin would pull Minho into a back hug in the kitchen, murmuring something low that made Minho’s ears turn pink.
Jeongin and Seungmin often shared the same blanket, heads resting close together, soft laughter passing between them like a secret.
At first, you told yourself it was just brotherly affection—deep bonds formed from living together in this isolated village life. Boys could be touchy. It didn’t mean anything more.
Until the kisses.
One afternoon, Jisung was heading into town for supplies. Chan walked him to the door, cupped his face gently, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Be safe. I love you,” Chan said, voice warm and easy.
Jisung grinned, kissing him back. “Love you too.”
You had frozen in the hallway, half-hidden, heart stuttering at the casual intimacy.
Another evening, you caught Felix and Hyunjin cuddling openly on the living room floor, legs tangled, exchanging lazy kisses while a drama played in the background. No one batted an eye. Changbin joined them later, pulling Felix closer with a fond rumble.
The pieces slowly clicked into place, but you kept silent, unsure how to react or whether you were even supposed to see any of it.
The moment it became undeniable came during a quiet afternoon in the kitchen.
Felix had asked for your help baking brownies—nothing complicated, just a simple recipe to use up some ingredients. You stood beside him at the counter, mixing the batter carefully under his patient guidance. His presence was warm and encouraging, the kind that made your shoulders relax just a fraction.
The front door creaked open.
Hyunjin stepped in, wiping his hands on his jeans after some outdoor work.
“Going into town for errands,” he announced, voice carrying easily. He crossed the kitchen in a few strides, stopping right beside Felix.
Felix turned with a bright smile. “Already?”
“Won’t be long.” Hyunjin leaned in naturally, pressing a soft kiss to Felix’s cheek, then another quick one to the corner of his mouth. “I love you. Text me if you need anything.”
“I love you too,” Felix replied, cheeks dimpling, completely at ease.
Hyunjin gave you a brief, polite nod before heading out, the door clicking shut behind him.
The kitchen fell into a sudden, heavy silence.
You stood there awkwardly, wooden spoon still in your hand, batter dripping slowly onto the counter.
Your face burned.
You didn’t know where to look—definitely not at Felix.
Felix cleared his throat after a long moment, his usual sunshine energy turning flustered and pink. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting to the mixing bowl then back to you.
“Um… about that,” he started slowly, voice softer than usual, almost shy. “I guess you’ve probably noticed some things by now.”
You swallowed, nodding once without meeting his gaze.
Felix let out a small, nervous laugh. “Yeah… all eight of us. We’re together. In a relationship. All of us.” He gestured vaguely toward the rest of the house. “We have been together for a long time now.”
He paused, watching your reaction carefully, the batter forgotten between you.
“We don’t usually explain it to others right away. After everything that happened before… we’re careful. But since you’re staying here and you’ve seen it…” He shrugged, a little helpless. “I didn’t want you to feel weird or confused. Or like you have to pretend you didn’t see anything.”
The air felt thicker, the scent of chocolate and sugar suddenly too sweet.
Felix tilted his head, voice gentle but honest. “You okay? You don’t have to say anything. Just… that’s us. All eight boyfriends, basically.”
He waited, the kitchen quiet except for the faint ticking of the old wall clock, giving you space to process the truth that had been unfolding right in front of you all along.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The following days settled into a tentative routine, quiet mornings and shared evenings.
It had been more than a month since you stepped off that bus.
You had gotten the hang of village life in small, incremental ways. The narrow paths felt familiar under your feet. You could peel vegetables without nicking your fingers every time. The simple meals you prepared occasionally no longer tasted like experiments.
The house no longer felt like a cage of eggshells—you moved through it with quiet confidence, a background presence that had slowly become part of the scenery.
Sometimes, they invited you to join them.
It started small.
One evening, after dinner, Changbin pulled out an old deck of cards. “Yah, come play with us.”
You hesitated at first, but sat down on the floor beside them. The game was simple—something loud and competitive involving shouting and laughter.
You lost terribly the first few rounds, but the way Jisung dramatically accused Seungmin of cheating, and how Hyunjin dramatically flopped onto Felix’s lap in defeat, made you laugh despite yourself.
Real, unguarded laughter that surprised even you.
After that, the invitations came more often.
Board games on rainy afternoons.
Soccer in the backyard with a worn ball.
Even quiet movie nights where you ended up sandwiched between Jeongin and Jisung on the couch, sharing a blanket.
You found yourself actually enjoying it—the easy banter, the teasing, the way their personalities unfolded when they weren’t on edge. Minho’s dry humor, Chan’s steady warmth, Seungmin’s sharp but fond remarks.
It felt… light.
Normal.
Something you had never really experienced in your old, suffocating world.
Things had grown lighter overall.
Solo moments started happening naturally.
Chan would sit with you on the porch steps one morning, sharing a quiet cup of tea while the others were still asleep.
Minho let you help him in the garden one afternoon, showing you how to pull weeds properly. He was patient, correcting your technique without frustration, even cracking a small smile when you proudly showed him a perfectly straight row.
Hyunjin dragged you into an impromptu art session on the living room floor, handing you cheap crayons and paper. “Just draw whatever. No judgment.” His laughter when you produced a very questionable portrait of their house made your chest feel warm.
Jisung and Changbin pulled you into late-night kitchen raids for snacks, Jisung’s excited rambling filling the space while Changbin quietly made sure you had enough to eat.
Even Seungmin, the most reserved, started leaving small books on your bed with a casual “Thought you might like this” note.
Felix and Jeongin remained the easiest—movie nights turned into whispered conversations, their affection for you clear and uncomplicated. They never pushed, but they made space for you.
And you were genuinely enjoying their company. The way the house felt warmer with all of them in it. The laughter that now included you more often. The subtle protectiveness they showed each other that somehow extended, just a little, toward you.
For the first time since you had left that polished dining table behind, you felt something close to belonging—not fully inside their circle, but no longer entirely outside it either.
You were here, in the background of their world, and somehow, against all odds, it was starting to feel like home.
Even if it was only temporary.
Even if their hearts were already full with each other.
You were content with that.
For now.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
You were walking through the modest market square one afternoon, the sun warm on your shoulders, when a small handwritten sign caught your eye outside the local bakery-café.
“Hiring: Part-time help. No experience needed. Ask inside.”
Your heart gave a small, hopeful jump.
It wasn’t anything grand—no glamorous position or high pay—but it was steady work: helping with orders, cleaning tables, assisting in the kitchen with basic prep.
Enough to start saving again without touching the last of your emergency cash. You stepped inside, nerves fluttering, and spoke to the kind middle-aged owner. She asked a few simple questions, watched you handle a tray of empty cups without dropping them, and nodded.
“You’re hired,” she said with a gentle smile. “Start tomorrow morning, 7 a.m. sharp.”
You beamed, the first real, unfiltered smile you’d felt in weeks. “Thank you. Really.”
It wasn’t a place of your own yet, but landing the job felt like the first solid step forward since you’d stepped off that bus. Something you had earned on your own, without your family’s name or money behind you.
You practically floated back to the house, the small paper with your starting schedule clutched in your hand like a treasure.
The front door creaked open as you entered. Minho was in the living room, sorting through a basket of clean laundry with his usual precise movements. He glanced up at the sound of your footsteps, his sharp eyes immediately catching the way your face was lit up, practically glowing with quiet excitement.
“You look… different,” he said, one eyebrow raised, though his tone lacked its earlier edge. “What happened?”
You couldn’t hold it in. The words tumbled out, bright and breathless.
“I got a job. At the bakery-café in the market. It’s part-time, nothing big, but… they accepted me. I start tomorrow.”
For a moment, Minho just stared. Then the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a small, genuine smile—the kind that softened his usually sharp features. “That’s… good. Really good.”
Before you could overthink it, the happiness bubbling inside you pushed you forward. You stepped closer and wrapped your arms around him in a quick, impulsive hug, the kind born purely from relief and joy.
Minho stiffened at first, caught off guard, his body going rigid against yours. The hug felt awkward—your arms a little too tight, his hands hovering uncertainly at his sides. The warmth of him, the faint scent of laundry soap and something uniquely Minho, made the moment stretch strangely.
Then he composed himself. His hands came up to pat your back once, twice—firm but gentle—before he carefully pulled away, clearing his throat. His ears had turned a faint pink, and he avoided your eyes for a second, focusing instead on folding a shirt with sudden intensity.
“Congrats,” he muttered, voice a touch lower than usual. “That’s a solid start.”
You stepped back quickly, cheeks warming as the awkwardness settled in. “Sorry— I just… got excited. Thank you.”
He nodded once, still not quite meeting your gaze, but the small smile lingered. “No need to apologize. It’s fine.”
After that afternoon, the shift in the house became even more noticeable.
The boys started softening up in quieter, more intentional ways. They no longer just tolerated your presence in the background—they began seeking you out.
You continued to be yourself—quietly helpful, carefully open, genuinely enjoying the growing warmth of their company.
The relationship between the eight of them remained beautifully evident in stolen kisses, cuddles, and soft “I love you”s exchanged without shame, but they no longer felt the need to hide every moment from you.
Their guards were still there, raised just enough to protect what they had built together after the hurt of two years ago.
But the walls had developed windows.
Cracks of light.
Moments where they sought you out, included you, and let the house feel a little less like a temporary shelter and a little more like a shared home.
You smiled more these days.
And sometimes, when you caught one of them watching you with a softer gaze than before, you wondered if they were starting to smile a little more too—because of you.
Even if it was still careful.
Even if it was still new.
It was enough. For now.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
A few weeks had passed since you started your job at the bakery-café, and the new routine had begun to feel almost natural.
You left the house early each morning with a packed lunch one of the boys had quietly prepared the night before. Your shifts were simple but steady: wiping tables, arranging fresh bread in the display, helping with basic baking prep under the owner’s gentle guidance.
The work tired you in a good way, the kind that left your hands busy and your mind clearer than it had ever been in your old life.
When you returned home in the late afternoon, the house no longer felt like a place you were tiptoeing through. The boys had unconsciously started spending more time with you, their actions slipping into something warmer, more attentive. It was as if you had quietly become part of their orbit without anyone saying it out loud.
They took care of you in small, protective ways—making sure you rested, checking if you needed anything from the market, even walking you partway to work some mornings under the guise of “going the same direction.”
At first, none of them seemed to notice how deeply they had all been drawn to you.
But one quiet evening, after you had gone to bed, the eight of them gathered in the living room like they used to when something important needed discussing.
Chan spoke first, voice low and honest. “We need to talk. About her.”
The room was silent for a moment before Minho nodded. “I’ve seen it. All of us… we’re spending more time with her. Taking care of her like she’s already ours.”
Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not just one or two of us. It’s everyone.”
They didn’t hide anything from each other—that had always been their rule after the betrayal two years ago. They laid it all out: the way their hearts softened when you smiled after a long shift, the quiet pride they felt watching you adapt, the protective urge that had grown stronger than simple kindness.
Felix and Jeongin admitted they had felt it first, but now even the most guarded ones—Chan, Minho, Seungmin—couldn’t deny the pull.
“Maybe she is different,” Jisung said quietly, eyes sincere. “She never pushed. She’s been patient with all our walls. She tries so hard without asking for anything in return.”
Jeongin nodded slowly. “Fate crossed our paths for a reason. She showed up at that bus stop when she had nowhere else to go… and we couldn’t leave her. None of us could.”
Seungmin exhaled, leaning back. “I didn’t want to admit it, but… she feels right. Like she fits here. With us.”
Hyunjin smiled faintly. “She makes the house feel fuller. Warmer.”
Felix’s voice was soft but sure. “I think… we all feel it. We like her.”
Chan looked around at his boyfriends with quiet courage. “Then maybe we should stop fighting it. We’ve been honest with each other so far. We can figure this out together.”
The conversation stretched late into the night. Hesitation lingered with the older ones, the scars from their past relationship still tender. But the warmth, the genuine care they had all developed for you, won out in the end. They realized it together—she had become someone important. Someone they didn’t want to let slip away.
For the next several days, they continued as they had been, only now they stopped bothering to hide the depth of their feelings.
They still moved carefully, not wanting to overwhelm you with the sudden intensity. But the affection was clearer: lingering touches on your shoulder, soft smiles reserved just for you, the way they all seemed to gravitate toward you in the evenings.
Stolen glances turned warmer.
“Good morning” greetings carried extra gentleness. They never pressured, never rushed—just let the quiet pull between all nine of you grow naturally.
Until one night it all came to a head.
It was late, the house quiet after a simple dinner and a movie that had left everyone relaxed on the couch and floor. You were helping Felix tidy the kitchen, the two of you laughing softly over a spilled bit of sauce.
The others were scattered nearby, some still chatting in low voices.
Felix turned to you with that bright, dimpled smile, eyes shining with unguarded fondness. Without thinking, he blurted out, “God, I really love having you here with us. We all do. Like… we want you to be part of this. With all of us.”
The words hung in the air.
The rest of the boys froze where they were—Chan mid-sip of water, Minho’s hand still on the back of the couch, Hyunjin’s laugh cutting off sharply. Jeongin’s eyes widened. The kitchen suddenly felt very small.
Felix’s cheeks flushed deep red as he realized what he’d said. “Wait— I mean— I didn’t mean to just—”
But the dam had broken.
“Felix, it’s fine.”
Chan set his glass down slowly, stepping closer, his leader voice calm but sincere.
“We’ve been talking. All of us.” He glanced around at the others, who nodded one by one. “We care about you. A lot.”
Minho cleared his throat, ears pink, but his gaze steady. “We didn’t plan this. After what happened two years ago… we were scared. But you’re different. Patient. Kind. You fit here.”
Hyunjin stepped forward, voice soft. “We don’t want to hide it anymore. We like you. All eight of us. Romantically. As more than just someone staying in the house.”
Jisung rubbed the back of his neck, rambling nervously. “Yeah— and we’re not trying to pressure you or anything! Seriously. You can say no. Or take time. Or whatever you need. We just… wanted to be honest because hiding it felt wrong.”
Changbin nodded, his usual confidence tempered with gentleness. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight. We’re happy with how things are if that’s what you want. But… we had to tell you.”
Seungmin added quietly, “No rush. Really.”
Jeongin and Felix both looked at you with hopeful, slightly anxious eyes, the youngest murmuring, “We just… really like you.”
The eight of them stood there, a mix of nervousness and earnest affection on their faces, giving you space but finally laying their hearts open after weeks of quiet realization.
Your cheeks burned, heart pounding in your chest. The confession felt overwhelming but warm—nothing like the cold control of your old life.
You looked at each of them, the way they had slowly become important to you too, and shyly twisted your fingers together.
“It’s… okay,” you said softly, voice barely above a whisper but honest. “I feel something too. For all of you. I didn’t know how to say it… and I still don’t really know how this works. With eight of you. With me.” You gave a small, shy smile, glancing down.
“But… I like it here. With you. And I think I want to try… if you’ll be patient with me.”
The relief in the room was immediate—soft exhales, small smiles breaking across their faces, the tension easing into something lighter, sweeter.
Felix beamed, stepping closer but still careful. “We’ll be as patient as you need.”
Chan’s eyes were warm, full of quiet promise. “We’ll figure it out together. All of us.”
And just like that, the nine of you stood on the edge of something new—tentative, hopeful, and real.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The days after the confession were warm and bright in a way you had never experienced before.
The boys were incredibly patient with you, never pushing boundaries or overwhelming you with the weight of their feelings.
But they were more open now—honest in the little ways that mattered.
Felix would greet you in the mornings with a soft “Good morning, beautiful” and a gentle kiss to your forehead if you let him.
Chan started leaving sweet notes in your lunch box for work, simple things like “You’re doing great today. We’re proud of you.”
Minho’s sharp edges had melted into quiet affection; he’d brush your hair behind your ear when it fell in your face while cooking together, murmuring “You look cute when you’re focused.”
Hyunjin drew you into his lap during movie nights, arms wrapped loosely around your waist.
Changbin’s hugs became longer and tighter, his deep voice rumbling “Missed you” even if you’d only been gone for a few hours.
Jisung would pull you into silly dances in the kitchen, spinning you until you were both laughing breathlessly.
Seungmin read to you softly at night sometimes, his voice low and soothing.
Jeongin shared shy, lingering glances and hand-holding that made your heart flutter.
They took care of you openly now—walking you to and from work, making sure you ate well, checking in on how you felt. The dynamic between all nine of you was still new and careful, but it felt right.
Safe. Happy.
You thought the peace might last.
You were wrong.
Unbeknownst to you, your parents had never stopped looking.
The moment you disappeared, they had sent private investigators, discreet teams, anyone who could track the missing heir to their empire.
Weeks of searching had finally paid off.
Someone in the village had recognized your face from old photos, tipped them off, and reported back immediately.
Your parents wasted no time.
The next day started like any other perfect one.
All of you were lounging in the living room after lunch, the house filled with laughter and playful chaos.
Chan and Changbin were wrestling lightly on the floor, Jisung cheering them on dramatically while Felix and Jeongin tried to pile on. Hyunjin was dramatically narrating the “epic battle” from the couch, Seungmin throwing popcorn at them, and Minho watching with an amused smirk, occasionally tossing in a dry comment.
You were curled up on the end of the couch, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt, watching the beautiful mess of your boyfriends.
A firm knock echoed through the house.
“I’ll get it!” you called out cheerfully, hopping up since the rest of them were tangled in their play fight. “You guys keep going.”
You padded to the door, still grinning, and pulled it open without a second thought.
Your smile died instantly.
Your father stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, expression cold and commanding as ever. Your mother beside him, lips pressed into a thin, disappointed line. Two tall, stone-faced guards flanked them—men you recognized from your old life, the kind who followed orders without question.
You froze, breath catching in your throat.
“No…”
You stumbled back a step, heart slamming against your ribs.
The noise in the living room stopped abruptly.
The boys looked up, playful energy vanishing in an instant.
One by one they stood—Chan first, then Minho, the rest following with sharp, protective tension radiating from them.
Your father didn’t waste time.
He stepped forward and grabbed your arm in a bruising grip.
“You’ve had your little runaway fantasy long enough,” he said flatly. “Time to come home.”
You yanked hard, trying to pull free. “Let go—!”
The boys moved instantly.
Chan’s voice was low and dangerous. “Get your hands off her.”
Minho was already stepping between you and your father. “She doesn’t want to go with you.”
Hyunjin and Changbin moved to flank you, while Jisung, Seungmin, Felix, and Jeongin closed in behind.
Protective. United.
But the guards moved as wel.
They intervened smoothly, strong hands pushing the boys back, creating a barrier.
One guard shoved Chan hard enough that he stumbled. Another blocked Minho’s path.
Your father’s eyes swept over the eight boys with pure disdain, lips curling in disgust.
“Look at this,” he spat. “My daughter, staying with eight men like some common whore. How much of a bitch have you become, running away just to spread your legs for a pack of village boys?”
Your mother’s voice was colder, sharper. “Your fiancé has been waiting patiently for your return. We’ve delayed the engagement party long enough because of your childish tantrum.”
Fiancé.
The word dropped like a stone.
You hadn’t even known about any arranged marriage when you left. They must have set it up right after you disappeared—or maybe it had been in the works longer, another piece of your life they controlled without telling you.
The boys went still.
Dumbfounded.
Chan’s face drained of color. Minho’s jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. Hyunjin took an involuntary step back. Changbin’s fists curled at his sides. Jisung’s usual brightness shattered. Seungmin’s eyes widened in quiet hurt. Felix and Jeongin looked heartbroken, the youngest’s lips parting in silent disbelief.
They had been played again.
Just like two years ago.
Another woman with secrets.
Another betrayal.
You whipped your head around, eyes wide and desperate as you looked at them. “It’s not true… please,” you begged, voice cracking. “I didn’t know about any fiancé—I swear. I never agreed to any of this. Please believe me—”
Your father’s grip tightened painfully on your arm, yanking you toward the door. “Enough of your lies. You’re coming home. Now.”
One of the guards moved to help drag you out when you resisted.
The boys stood frozen in the middle of the living room, watching as you were pulled away. None of them moved to stop it this time—the shock, the resurfaced pain from their past, the sudden doubt that you had been hiding something big all along, kept them rooted in place.
You looked back at them one last time, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Please… it’s not what you think. I love you— all of you—“
The door slammed shut behind you.
The house fell deathly silent.
Your father’s car disappeared down the village road, taking you with it.
Inside, the eight boys remained exactly where they were, the warmth and laughter from minutes ago shattered into cold, heavy betrayal.
Chan stared at the closed door, fists clenched, voice barely a whisper.
“…Again.”
Seungmin turned away sharply, shoulders rigid.
“We should’ve known better.”
The others didn’t speak. The doubt had already sunk its claws in deep.
They didn’t know the full story.
They only knew how it felt like history repeating itself—another woman they had let in, only to watch her get ripped away by a life full of secrets they had never been told about.
And this time… it hurt even worse.
Because they had truly started to believe you were different.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The grand mansion felt colder than you remembered.
Marble floors echoed under every step.
Maids moved like silent shadows, eyes carefully averted.
Guards stood at every corridor, their presence a constant reminder that you were no longer free—you were back in the cage, polished and gleaming.
Your parents had dragged you here without mercy, ignoring your pleas the entire ride. The moment the heavy doors closed behind you, the lectures began: duty, family name, legacy. They wasted no time preparing you for the meeting.
Today was the day you were supposed to meet your fiancé.
You sat in the formal receiving room, dressed in something elegant and stifling, heart heavy with the image of eight boys frozen in betrayal. Their faces haunted you—the shock, the hurt, the way they had stepped back as if you had shattered them all over again.
The door opened.
A tall, handsome man walked in—sharp jawline, warm yet composed features, dressed impeccably but without arrogance.
Jaehyun.
He carried himself with quiet confidence, eyes scanning the room before landing on you with something surprisingly gentle.
Your parents left the two of you alone after stiff introductions, expecting compliance.
The silence stretched only a moment.
“I don’t want this either,” Jaehyun said quietly, voice smooth and low, cutting straight to the point. He sat across from you, posture relaxed but honest. “This arranged marriage… it’s been pushed on me for months too. Business merger disguised as romance. My family and yours—both desperate to secure power.”
You blinked, surprised by his candor.
No pretense.
No superiority.
He continued, a small, wry smile touching his lips. “I’ve had a plan ready for a while now. I’ve been gathering evidence—proof of the illegal activities your family and mine have been involved in. Tax evasion, shady contracts, bribes. Enough to force their hand without dragging innocents through the mud.”
Your breath caught. “You… planned this?”
He nodded. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but here we are. If you’re willing to stand with me, we push through today. No engagement. No marriage. We expose just enough to make them back off. I’ll make sure your name stays clean—I’ll defend you publicly if needed.”
You stared at him, something like relief mixing with fear.
He wasn’t an enemy.
Just another person trapped in the same gilded web.
“…Okay,” you whispered.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The meeting with both families was explosive.
Jaehyun pushed through exactly as he said—calm, efficient, presenting the documents with surgical precision.
Your parents’ faces twisted from shock to fury.
Accusations flew.
Threats.
But Jaehyun had prepared meticulously; the evidence was airtight on the illegal dealings, yet he carefully left you completely out of it, painting you as the unwilling daughter who had run away from an oppressive household.
Your father raged. Your mother’s disappointment cut deeper than any shout.
In the end, they disowned you on the spot—cutting you off from every account, every connection, every last thread of their empire.
But the authorities moved fast thanks to Jaehyun’s quiet preparations.
Your family was placed under house arrest, their movements restricted while investigations continued.
The business empire now fell to you—the only remaining heir willing to step up and take responsibility, whether you wanted it or not.
You stood your ground through every scream, every demand to reconsider. You loved them, in the complicated way children sometimes love flawed parents, but you refused to let them control you anymore.
The mansion felt even emptier after they were confined to certain wings.
You spent the following days buried in paperwork, meetings with lawyers, and trying to stabilize what was left of the family business.
Jaehyun stayed nearby as an ally, not a fiancé—offering advice without pressure, helping you navigate the chaos he had helped unleash. He was kind, down-to-earth despite his background, and never once made you feel trapped.
But every night, when the mansion grew quiet, your thoughts drifted back to the small village house.
To laughter echoing in a cramped living room.
To eight pairs of eyes that had looked at you with growing warmth.
To Felix’s dimpled smiles, Chan’s steady presence, Minho’s quiet care, and all the others who had slowly made you feel like you belonged.
You didn’t want any of this—the money, the power, the responsibility—if it meant losing them.
The empire could crumble for all you cared.
So, once the immediate legal storm settled and you had signed enough documents to keep things from collapsing entirely, you made your choice.
You packed a small bag—just like the first time.
You left detailed instructions with a trusted and now carefully vetted staff, ensuring the business would run under strict oversight while you were gone. Jaehyun gave you a quiet nod of understanding when you told him.
“You deserve to chase what actually makes you happy,” he said simply. “Good luck.”
And then you left.
The journey back to the village felt longer this time—bus rides, dusty roads, heart pounding with every mile.
You had no idea what you would find.
Whether the boys would even listen.
Whether the betrayal they felt had already closed the door forever.
But you had to try.
The narrow path to their house looked exactly the same.
The shoes by the door.
The open windows.
The faint sound of voices inside.
You stood there for a long moment, bag clutched tightly, before raising your hand and knocking.
The voices inside quieted.
Footsteps approached.
The door opened.
And there they were—eight pairs of eyes widening in shock, a mix of pain, confusion, and something fragile flickering beneath the surface.
You swallowed hard, voice trembling but clear.
“I’m back. Please… let me explain everything.”
The air hung heavy between all of you.
They didn’t stop you.
They simply moved to the living room in heavy silence, sitting down on the couch and chairs like they were bracing for impact.
You stood in front of them, bag still slung over your shoulder, and started talking.
You told them everything. You explained the arranged marriage you had known nothing about until the moment your father mentioned it at their door. You laid out the evidence gathered, the confrontation, the disownment, the house arrest on your family, and how the entire empire had suddenly fallen into your hands whether you wanted it or not.
“I never lied to you,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I didn’t know about the fiancé. I ran because I couldn’t breathe anymore. And when I got dragged back… all I could think about was you. All of you. The job at the café, the movie nights, the way you made me laugh, the way you looked at me like I mattered for the first time in my life. I gave it all up. For this. For us.”
Your voice broke completely on the last word.
“Please… forgive me. I know how it looked. I know it hurt you—especially after what happened two years ago. But I’m not her. I’m not leaving you for someone else. I chose you. I’m choosing you right now.”
Silence.
Heavy, suffocating silence.
None of them spoke.
Chan stared at the floor. Minho’s gaze was fixed on the wall. Hyunjin kept swallowing hard, eyes glassy but refusing to meet yours. Changbin’s fists were clenched on his knees. Jisung bit his lip until it turned white. Seungmin looked somewhere over your shoulder. Felix and Jeongin, the ones who had brought you here in the first place, seemed the most torn—hurt and longing mixing in their expressions, but still no words.
You tried again, voice smaller.
“Please… say something. Yell at me if you have to. Just… don’t shut me out.”
Still nothing.
The fear in their eyes was clear—they were terrified of letting you back in, of being hurt the same way again. The scars from the person who had betrayed them were still too raw, and your sudden disappearance had ripped them open.
Desperation clawed at your chest.
You slowly sank to your knees on the wooden floor right in front of the couch, hands trembling in your lap.
“I’m begging you,” you whispered, looking up at each of them even though most refused to meet your gaze. “I love you. All eight of you. I know it’s complicated and new and scary, but I want this. I want us. Please… don’t throw me away.”
The silence stretched unbearably.
Tears fell freely now, dripping onto your jeans. Your shoulders shook.
You felt defeated.
Completely and utterly broken.
After what felt like forever, you wiped your face with the back of your hand and slowly pushed yourself to your feet.
Your legs felt like lead.
“…Okay,” you breathed, voice barely audible. “I understand.”
Before you turned to leave, you reached into your bag and pulled out a small, folded envelope. You placed it gently on the low table in front of the couch—right where they could all see it.
Inside were the documents Jaehyun had helped you prepare: proof that you had officially distanced yourself from your family’s illegal dealings, a letter explaining every detail again in writing, and the simple silver necklace you had been wearing the day you met them at the bus stop—the only thing you had kept from your old life, now offered back as a symbol that you were willing to leave everything behind.
You looked at them one last time, each face that had become so dear to you.
“I love you,” you said softly, the words heavy with finality. “All of you. I’m sorry I hurt you. Goodbye.”
Then you turned and walked out the door, closing it quietly behind you.
The village air felt colder than before as you started down the path, shoulders slumped, heart in pieces.
Inside the house, the room remained deathly silent for a long minute after you left.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Then Chan leaned forward slowly, his hand reaching out to pick up the envelope you had left. His fingers trembled slightly as he opened it, pulling out the documents and the necklace. The silver chain caught the light, delicate and familiar.
He stared at it for a long moment, thumb brushing over the small pendant.
The others finally shifted, eyes drawn to what he held.
Chan unfolded the letter, reading the neat handwriting that laid everything out once more—your fear, your choice, your love. Proof that you had truly walked away from the empire for them.
He swallowed hard, voice rough when he finally spoke, barely above a whisper.
“…She really left it all.”
The silence cracked just a little.
And for the first time since the door had closed, the eight of them looked at each other—fear, regret, and the undeniable pull toward you warring in every expression.
The envelope and necklace sat between them like a question none of them were ready to answer yet…
…but the ache of watching you walk away was already louder than their fear.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The narrow dirt road leading to the village bus stop felt endless.
You stood under the chipped waiting shed, the same one where Felix and Jeongin had found you months ago. Your eyes stayed fixed on the ground, tears falling steadily onto the dry earth, creating small dark spots that disappeared almost as quickly as they formed.
Your chest ached with a pain so deep it felt physical—like something had been ripped out and left hollow.
You had nothing left.
No home except the one you had just been quietly rejected from.
The bus would come eventually, and you had no idea where you would go after that.
Anywhere but here, maybe.
Somewhere you could disappear again.
Footsteps approached from behind—soft but steady on the dirt path.
You didn’t look up. You couldn’t.
The hurt was too raw, too overwhelming.
Whoever it was could pass by.
You just wanted to be invisible.
The footsteps stopped right in front of you.
Eight pairs of familiar shoes came into view—worn sneakers, scuffed boots, the same ones you had seen scattered by the door every day.
Your breath hitched.
Slowly, painfully, you lifted your head.
There they were.
All eight of them.
Standing in a loose semicircle around you at the bus stop, breathing hard like they had run the entire way.
None of them spoke at first.
The only sounds were the distant rustle of fields and your own shaky breathing.
Chan took one small step closer, his voice rough and low, cracking on the first word.
“…Don’t go.”
It was barely more than a whisper, but it shattered the heavy quiet.
Hyunjin swallowed hard, stepping up beside Chan. “We were scared. After what happened before… seeing you get dragged away like that, hearing about a fiancé we knew nothing about—it felt like the past repeating. We should’ve done something.”
Minho’s voice was softer, trembling. “We let our fear win. I’m so sorry.”
Changbin exhaled shakily, his deep voice gentler than you had ever heard it. “You told us everything. You left all of that behind for us. The money, the family, everything. And we just sat there like idiots.”
Jisung stepped forward, eyes glistening. “We know you didn’t lie. We know you chose us. But we were too hurt and too scared to say it in time.”
Seungmin looked down for a second, then met your eyes. “We’re not perfect. But we love you more than anything.”
Felix moved closer, reaching out hesitantly before gently taking one of your hands. His touch was warm, trembling. “We ran the whole way here because the house felt wrong without you. Empty. We don’t want you to leave. Please… stay.”
Jeongin, voice small but determined, added, “We love you too. All of us. We were just too afraid to say it when it mattered most.”
Chan lifted the necklace in his other hand, the silver catching the fading light. “You really walked away from everything… for us.”
He took another step, close enough now that you could see the regret and longing clear in his eyes.
“We’re sorry we hurt you. We’re sorry we made you feel like you had to kneel and beg. We should’ve held you instead.” His free hand came up slowly, brushing a tear from your cheek with the gentlest touch.
“If you’ll still have us… if you can forgive us for not fighting for you sooner… come home.”
The other seven closed in slowly, surrounding you in a protective, warm circle—no longer distant, no longer silent.
Felix squeezed your hand tighter. “We want you. The real you. The one who tried so hard in the kitchen, who laughed at our dumb games, who made the house feel complete. Nine of us.”
Minho’s voice was quieter but sincere. “No more hiding. No more doubts. Just… us.”
They stood there, eight pairs of eyes fixed on you, waiting.
The bus stop felt smaller, the fields quieter.
Your tears kept falling, but this time they weren’t only from pain.
The ache in your heart was still there—but now it was mixed with something warmer, something hopeful.
You had come back for them.
And they had run after you.
“Please… don’t get on that bus.” Chan whispered again, voice thick.
And the rest of them echoed it in soft, desperate murmurs.
“Come home.”
“We love you.”
“Stay with us.”
You nodded, tears still streaming, and that was all it took.
All eight of them surged forward at once.
Strong arms wrapped around you from every direction.
Finally.
“I’ve got you,” Chan murmured into your hair, voice thick with relief.
“We’re not letting go again,” Seungmin whispered, smiles returning as he kissed your wet cheek.
“Never again,” Hyunjin added softly, his younger voice full of quiet promise.
They held you until your sobs turned into shaky breaths, until the sun dipped lower and the fields glowed golden around you.
Then they walked you home—hands linked, shoulders bumping, soft apologies and “I love you”s exchanged the entire way.
The nightmare was over.
You were home.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The next few days were warmer than anything you had ever known.
The house felt brighter, laughter easier, touches bolder now that the fear had cracked open and let the light in. They spoiled you gently—extra cuddles after your café shifts, surprise picnics in the fields, late-night talks where they asked about your past without judgment and shared more of theirs in return.
You hadn’t been stupid when you left the mansion.
Before walking away completely, you had kept one credit card and arranged for a small, quiet percentage of the family business to be transferred into a separate account under your name only. It wasn’t enough to live luxuriously, but it gave you a safety net—enough to help with village expenses if needed, or to treat the boys to something nice without touching their hard-earned money.
You told them about it honestly one evening, and they accepted it with soft smiles and proud kisses, no suspicion, no walls.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ smut
And here you were, in the center, heart racing, surrounded by eight boyfriends who looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.
All nine of you were tangled together on the big, worn couch after dinner—legs draped over laps, heads resting on shoulders, the movie long forgotten on the screen. The air had grown thick with quiet tension for days, stolen kisses turning longer, hands wandering further under clothes during cuddles.
Tonight, the dam finally broke.
Clothes came off piece by piece, scattered across the living room floor.
The couch wasn’t big enough for all of you, but no one cared. You moved to the thick blankets they had laid out on the floor earlier, bodies pressing together in a heated, loving mess.
It was overwhelming in the most beautiful way.
They were patient at first—kissing every inch of you, whispering praises.
“So pretty for us,”
“We’ve wanted this,”
“Tell us if it’s too much”
Hands explored, mouths followed. They took turns between your thighs, their tongues gentle and eager, drawing soft moans from you while the others watched with dark, loving eyes.
Chan and Hyunjin claimed you first.
Chan laid you down gently on your back, his broad frame hovering over you as he kissed you slow and deep, tongue sliding against yours while his hand caressed your thigh. Hyunjin knelt beside your head, long fingers threading through your hair as he leaned down to kiss you too—messy, passionate, his pretty lips sucking on your bottom lip before moving to your neck.
While they focused on you, the others paired off naturally around you.
On your left, Minho and Seungmin were tangled together—Minho on his back, Seungmin straddling his lap, grinding slowly while they kissed like they were starving for each other. Soft, breathy moans escaped them as Minho’s hands gripped Seungmin’s hips.
On your right, Changbin and Jisung were already lost in each other—Changbin sitting up against the couch, Jisung in his lap facing him, riding him with eager little rolls of his hips while Changbin whispered filthy praises into his ear.
Felix and Jeongin stayed close, making out heatedly beside you—hands roaming, Jeongin whimpering softly as Felix stroked him slowly, both of them watching you with dark, loving eyes.
Chan slid into you first—thick and careful, stretching you open with a low groan. “Fuck… so tight for us, baby,” he breathed against your mouth, starting a deep, steady rhythm that had your back arching. Hyunjin leaned over you, kissing you through every thrust, his free hand pinching and rolling your nipples until you were moaning into his mouth.
They worked together beautifully—Chan fucking you with controlled power while Hyunjin kissed and touched every sensitive spot he could reach. When Chan’s pace grew faster and he came inside you with a deep, shaky groan, Hyunjin took his place almost immediately.
Hyunjin was longer, sliding in with a smooth thrust that made you gasp. He fucked you slower but deeper, hips rolling in that graceful way only he could manage, eyes locked on yours the entire time. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice husky.
Chan stayed close, kissing your neck and murmuring “Good girl… taking us so well” while his hand reached down to rub your clit in slow circles.
You came hard around Hyunjin, clenching and trembling, and he followed soon after, spilling deep inside you with a soft, pretty moan.
They kissed you through the aftershocks—Chan’s lips on your forehead, Hyunjin’s on your shoulder—before gently pulling back.
Then the switch happened.
Felix and Jeongin moved in next, the two youngest taking their turn with you while the others continued on the side, waiting for their turn.
Felix laid you on your side, spooning behind you. He entered you slowly from behind, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand holding your thigh up as he thrust gently but deeply. “Feels so good… love being inside you,” he whimpered against your neck, voice sweet and needy.
At the same time, Jeongin knelt in front of you, sliding his cock between your lips. You sucked him eagerly, tongue swirling while Felix fucked you from behind in perfect sync.
On the sides, the pairings shifted,
Chan was now with Minho—Chan on his knees, fucking Minho from behind while Minho stroked himself, both of them groaning low.
Hyunjin and Seungmin were making out heatedly, hands jerking each other off slowly as they watched you.
Changbin had Jisung bent over the arm of the couch, pounding into him with deep, powerful thrusts that made Jisung cry out beautifully.
The rhythm continued.
After Felix filled you with a soft, broken moan and Jeongin came down your throat with a shy whimper, you barely had time to catch your breath before the next pair switched in.
Changbin and Jisung took their turn with you.
Changbin was careful with his strength but intense— he pulled you onto his lap so you were riding him, his thick cock stretching you wide while his big hands guided your hips. “That’s it, ride me just like that,” he growled softly, eyes dark with lust.
Jisung knelt beside you, kissing you messily, then feeding you his cock while you bounced on Changbin. The two of them worked you between them until you were shaking and coming again, Changbin following with a deep grunt as he filled you, Jisung spilling across your tongue moments later.
Next came Minho and Seungmin.
Minho took you from behind on all fours—sharp, precise thrusts that hit every perfect spot while Seungmin knelt in front of you, letting you suck him while he praised you in that calm, slightly teasing voice. “Look at you… such a good girl for all of us.” Minho’s hand reached around to rub your clit until you came hard, clenching around him.
Both of them finished inside you and on your lips, leaving you dripping and glowing.
By the end, all of them had taken turns in different pairings—switching fluidly so every single one of your boyfriends fucked you at least once, sometimes more, while the others kissed, touched, or pleasured each other around you.
The final round was all nine of you in one messy, loving pile.
You were on your back again, legs spread as Chan slid back into you for a second round, slow and deep. Felix and Hyunjin were on either side of your head, letting you alternate sucking them. Jeongin and Minho were kissing down your chest and stomach. Changbin and Jisung were making out above you while their hands stroked wherever they could reach. Seungmin was behind Chan, slowly fucking him while Chan fucked you—creating a beautiful chain of pleasure.
Moans and whispered “I love you”s filled the room.
You came one last time—hard, shaking, tears of overwhelming pleasure in your eyes—triggering a domino effect as the rest of them followed, spilling inside you, on your skin, or down your throat.
When exhaustion finally crept in, you were a tangled, sweaty, glowing pile on the blankets.
Changbin had pulled extra pillows and a big comforter over all of you.
You lay in the center, surrounded by warm skin and soft kisses pressed to your shoulders, neck, and lips.
“I love you,” you whispered into the quiet, voice hoarse but full of happiness.
Eight voices answered back, sleepy and sincere:
“We love you too.”
Jisung nuzzled closer, dimples deep even in the dark. “Stay forever?”
You smiled, pressing a kiss to whoever’s chest was nearest.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The nine of you drifted off like that—hearts full, bodies sated, the future stretching out warm and open in front of you.
the cheering from the arena grew louder with every minute that passed, the fans getting more excited the closer the performing hour got. you were suddenly really grateful for the sheer amount of fans the boys had, relieved that their cheers drowned out your loud moans. hyunjins palm pressed against your lips did hardly anything to quiet your desperate pleas as his fingers worked mercilessly inside you.
“sshh baby you don’t want them to hear, do you?” hyunjin taunted as his thumb rubbed at your clit, bringing you even closer to your orgasm.
your eyes rolled back, hips grinding against his palm as you grew more pathetic and desperate. tears flooded your lash line, dripping down your cheeks and ruining your makeup as you silently begged him to let you cum. his fingers kissed that sweet spot inside your pussy, the spot your own fingers couldn’t reach and the wet sounds that came with every thrust made you just that much wetter. your arousal was dripping down your thighs and his fingers, coating him with your lust.
“please hyunjin…please can i cum?”
his eyes were dark and filled with nothing but want and desire, his fingers scissored inside, stretching you open even more and you whimpered out at the feeling.
“cum for me sweet girl, wanna have this pretty pussy dripping for me all night.”
with one minute left to spare before the boys were expected to be on stage, here you were coming on your boyfriends fingers. your thighs shook as he let you grind on his hand, riding out your orgasm before pulling his fingers out. you whined and your pussy clenched at the feeling of being empty after being stuffed full with three fingers, but you were quickly distracted by the sight of hyunjin licking a stripe up his fingers before sticking them in his mouth, sucking them dry.
your mouth fell agape at the sight and he kissed you quickly with the promise of finishing what he started after the concert before he ran off to join everyone on stage.
a/n ᜊ‧₊˚ my old acc is shadow banned so we starting over here💔 rip @bunnyblvd you’ll always be missed💔
if you were able to speak you would shout out about how good it felt, how full he made you feel, and close you were to coming.
but you couldn't.
you were too fucked dumb to be able to get out more than short babbles about how big his cock felt followed by a string of slurred curses.
"yea? muse too fucked silly to even talk?" he taunted, though the smile on his face was endearing as he pounded into your ruined pussy. his hands firmly holding your hips to keep you in place and to help you meet his thrusts.
hyunjin leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips, sticky strings of spit connecting you two when he pulled away to admire your face.
"god youre so gorgeous baby, everything about you," he leaned closer to your ear, "especially your pussy."
you moaned out at his words, your nails leaving pink trails across his back, "mmm..jinnie, close..so so so close! feel so good!"
"I know muse, I know. my cock making pretty girl feel good?"
you couldn't get out words, just gasps and moans as you nodded your head.
he clicked his tongue and his thrusts slowed, "words muse, use your words."
you almost panicked at the feeling of him slowing down and immediately started to speak, "yes! your cock is making me feel so good! so big, im so close!"
a cocky grin spread across his face and he gave you one last sloppy kiss before completely pulling out. before you could begin to protest, your legs were tossed over his shoulders and he was looking up at you from between your legs, his cheeks red and eyes blown.
"hyunjin.."
but he didn't respond, his mouth already too busy attaching itself to your pussy. you gasped out, hands shooting down to grab and pull at his hair, your high approaching quickly once again. his tongue was lapping at your clit, drool and your arousal dripping down his chin as he ate like a starved man. he reached up and pressed two fingers against your needy hole as he mumbled something about how good you tasted and how he could eat you out for hours against your core. his fingers moved fluidly inside of you, the wet sound just making Hyunjin's aching cock throb harder as he sucked on your sensitive little bud.
"hyunjin..jin, m about to cum..ngh." your head was thrown back and your hips were grinding against his face, rubbing your clit against his nose while his tongue fucked your greedy pussy.
he hummed against you, "cum on my face muse." his attention went back to your clit and you almost immediately came at the feeling of his tongue circling it.
your hips twitched as you moaned out, your grip getting tighter on his hair as you came, but he didn't mind. hyunjin was too pussy drunk to even care that he was coming himself, his own release being shot out in ropes against the bed. it was minute before he finally pulled himself away from your aching cunt, his lips and chin utterly drenched but the smile on his face was the brightest you had ever seen.
your face grew flushed at the sight of your boyfriend covered in your cum.
"hyune!" your hands flew up to cover your face in embarrassment, "your face! its all messyyy.."
he pouted as he stood up and climbed over you, "yah! this is my trophy! I could spend all day between your thighs muse, its my favorite place to be." he leaned down and kissed you so you could taste yourself on his lips.
“please!” you cried out, “don’t stop hyune-ngh, r-right there!”
“i know muse, it feels so good hm? my fingers making your pussy feel good?” he murmured, his voice nearly impossible to hear over how wet your pussy was.
“yes!” you babbled out, tears spilling down your cheeks as you gripped at the sheets beneath you.
his fingers curled deliciously, hitting much deeper spots than yours could ever dream of. the cold metal of his rings kissed your sensitive hole with every movement and you whimpered at the stimulation, “you gonna cum for me princess? wanna cum on my fingers?”
you nodded, unable to get any coherent words out, your cunt clenching around his fingers, sucking him in even closer as he found your g-spot. hyunjin leaned down, taking your lips in his and sticking his tongue in, exploring your mouth and swallowing your moans as his finger sped up, the squelching sounds getting even louder.
you bit at his bottom lip as you came, grabbing at his shoulders and leaving pink scratches behind. your pussy squeezed his fingers impossibly tight and he used his thumb to rub at your clit to help ride you through your orgasm.
“t-too much..” you whimpered against his lips, your grip on his shoulders loosening up.
hyunjin smirked as he slowly pulled his fingers out of your dripping cunt leaving you clenching around nothing, “open.”
he replaced his lips with his fingers as he dragged them across your tongue, “suck for me muse.”
you did as you were told, sucking your cum off his fingers as you maintained eye contact through your lashes.
“fuck…the things you do to me muse, i can’t wait to ruin you.”
The truth explodes in a tense meeting, exposing the abuse. When the manager lashes out at her, the boys snap—shielding her instantly, shutting everything down, and making it clear no one will ever touch her again.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪skz❫･━━━━━━ ❜
The next morning feels wrong before it even starts.
No one jokes. No one bickers. Even breakfast is quiet—too quiet for nine people who usually can’t go five minutes without someone arguing over something stupid.
You sit there with your hands wrapped around a mug you’re not drinking from, the faint sting on your lip still there, the bruise darker now despite the ice packs Hyunjin pressed to your cheek until late last night.
Across from you, Chan is already dressed.
Not practice-ready.
Meeting-ready.
That’s how you know this isn’t something that’s going to be brushed off.
“Eat something, baby girl,” he says gently, setting a plate of your favorite toast and fruit in front of you. His voice is soft, the same tone he uses when he knows you’re overwhelmed.
You nod, but don’t touch it.
Minho notices immediately. Of course he does.
Without a word, he quietly switches your plate with his own, sliding the warmer portion toward you like maybe if it comes from him, you’ll feel safe enough to eat. His eyes linger on your bruised cheek for a second too long before he looks away, jaw tight.
You don’t eat much, but the small gesture makes your chest ache with warmth.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The company building feels colder than usual.
Or maybe it’s just you.
Or maybe it’s the way all eight of them walk around you—not in front, not behind, but around, like some unspoken human shield.
Changbin stays on your left, shoulders squared. Hyunjin hovers on your right, one hand lightly brushing your sleeve every few steps as if to remind you he’s there. Felix walks just behind you, close enough that you can feel his comforting presence, while Jisung and Seungmin flank the back, scanning every hallway like they expect danger at any corner. Jeongin stays glued to your side, his usual playful energy replaced by quiet determination.
You’re not walking in alone.
Not anymore.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The meeting room is already full when you enter.
Executives. Managers. Staff.
And them.
The ones responsible.
You drop your gaze immediately, heart pounding so hard you can hear it in your ears.
Chan notices right away.
His hand brushes against your arm—not obvious to anyone else, just enough pressure to ground you.
You’re here. I’ve got you, baby girl.
You sit between him and Minho.
You don’t miss how the others position themselves—close, tense, eyes scanning the room like they’re already expecting something to go wrong. Changbin sits directly across from the manager, glaring openly. Felix keeps one hand resting near yours on the table, ready to hold it the second you need it.
Like what happened to you is being reduced to bullet points on a slide.
Until Chan speaks.
“We’re not here for a discussion,” he says, voice calm—but there’s steel underneath it that makes the entire room go still. “We’re here because one of our members was physically harmed. Repeatedly.”
No sugarcoating.
No softening.
The shift is immediate.
Some of the staff shift uncomfortably in their seats. Others glance at each other nervously.
And then,
“It seems there may have been some misunderstandings—”
“Misunderstanding?” Changbin cuts in, a bitter laugh escaping him, but there’s no humor in it at all. “You call hitting our maknae in the face a misunderstanding?”
Seungmin leans forward, eyes sharp and cold. “Would you like us to define it more clearly? Or should we show you the photos we took last night? Or some CCTV footage?”
The tension spikes so fast the air feels thick.
You shrink slightly in your seat, shoulders curling inward.
Chan notices again.
He always does.
His hand finds yours under the table, squeezing once—warm, steady, protective.
You’re safe. We’re right here.
Questions start coming your way.
Gentle at first from the executives who seem genuinely concerned.
Then more direct.
“How often did this occur?”
“Who was involved?”
“Were there witnesses?”
Your throat feels tight, the cut on your lip pulling painfully as you speak.
You answer anyway.
Quietly.
Carefully.
Every word feels like stepping on broken glass.
But you don’t stop.
Because every time your voice wavers, someone shifts closer.
Because every time you hesitate, someone’s hand tightens somewhere around you, grounding you.
Because you’re not alone anymore.
Then the names come out.
And everything changes.
The manager.
The specific staff members who had slapped, shoved, and grabbed you when the boys weren’t around.
You don’t look at them.
But you feel the way the room turns icy.
The way your eight members go dangerously still.
The manager scoffs.
Actually scoffs.
“This is being blown out of proportion,” he says, leaning back in his chair like he’s bored. “Discipline is part of training. She’s just being sensitive.”
The word hits harder than any slap.
Sensitive.
Like the pain didn’t matter. Like you didn’t matter.
Before you can even react—
“What?”
Minho’s voice is low.
Too low.
The kind that makes people freeze in place.
The manager shrugs. “I said—”
“I heard you,” Minho cuts in, slowly standing up. Controlled. “I just want to make sure everyone else in this room heard it too.”
“Sit down,” one of the executive side interjects quickly.
But it’s too late.
Because now Changbin is standing too, fists clenched at his sides.
And Jisung.
And Hyunjin.
“Discipline?” Changbin repeats, jaw clenched so tight the muscle jumps. “You think hitting her in the face is discipline?”
The room erupts.
Voices overlapping.
Tension snapping like a live wire.
You flinch hard—
And instantly, Chan is there.
“Hey, hey,” he murmurs, turning his body slightly toward you, blocking part of your view with his broad shoulders. One hand comes up to gently cup the side of your uninjured cheek. “It’s okay. Don’t look at him. Look at me. You’re safe.”
You nod, even though your chest is tight and your breathing is shallow.
Seungmin leans in from your other side, voice soft and trembling with restrained anger. “We’re right here, baby. He can’t touch you.”
The meeting spirals after that.
No more careful wording.
No more politeness.
Evidence gets brought up—your statements, the photos of your injuries, CCTV footages, even quiet testimonies from a couple of junior staff who had seen things but were too scared to speak before.
The company representatives start shifting sides fast when it becomes clear this isn’t something that can be buried.
You barely process most of it.
Until…
“It would be best if you step out,” one of the higher-ups tells the manager coldly.
Silence falls.
Then the scrape of a chair.
He stands.
You feel it before you see it.
That shift in the air.
Your stomach drops.
Because something about the way he moves…it’s wrong. Too angry. Too familiar.
He starts toward the door.
Then stops.
Turns.
And looks straight at you with pure venom.
Your breath catches.
“Unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head. “All this drama because you couldn’t handle a little pressure, you weak little—”
And then he steps toward you.
Fast.
Too fast.
Your body reacts before your brain does—you freeze completely, heart slamming against your ribs.
But you don’t even get a second to process it.
Because eight people move at once.
“Don’t—!”
Chairs scrape loudly as they shove back from the table.
Chan is in front of you immediately, his body a solid wall between you and the manager.
Minho grabs your arm gently but firmly, pulling you behind him while stepping forward.
Changbin moves like lightning, stepping directly into the man’s path, chest puffed out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Seungmin snaps, voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t you dare take another step toward her.”
The manager doesn’t stop.
“Move,” he snarls, reaching forward as if to grab you past the barrier of bodies.
And that’s it.
“Don’t touch her!”
Chan’s voice cracks through the room, loud and furious in a way you’ve never heard before—raw, protective, almost broken with rage.
He shoves the man back hard with both hands.
The room explodes into chaos.
Staff rushing in from the hallway.
People shouting.
But the boys don’t back down.
Not even a single step.
Hyunjin is instantly at your side, one arm hovering protectively in front of you while his other hand rests lightly on your shoulder, thumb stroking soothing circles. “It’s okay, love. Breathe. We’ve got you.”
Felix’s hand finds yours, gripping it so tight it almost hurts, but his voice is heartbreakingly soft. “hey, you’re safe. I promise.”
Jisung is yelling something fierce you can’t even fully hear over the noise, but his free hand is gently rubbing your back, trying to ground you.
Jeongin stands close on your other side, his usually bright eyes dark with anger as he shields you. “Stay behind us, baby.”
Minho doesn’t move an inch from his position in front of you.
He just stares the manager down like if the man takes one more step, it’s over.
“You’re done,” Minho says coldly, voice dripping with ice. “You’re not going anywhere near our maknae ever again.”
Security finally bursts in, grabbing the manager, pulling him back as he struggles and keeps shouting insults.
But his voice fades down the hallway.
The door shuts behind him.
And just like that, he’s gone.
The room falls silent again.
But it’s not the same silence as before.
This one feels… final. Like something heavy has been lifted.
You’re shaking.
You don’t even realize it until Chan turns around fully and cups your face with both hands—careful, so careful not to press on the bruise.
“Hey, baby girl,” he says, softer now, forehead almost resting against yours. “You’re okay. He’s gone. He’ll never come near you again. I swear.”
You nod, tears slipping down despite yourself.
Felix pulls you into a careful, warm hug from the side, burying his face in your hair. “We’ve got you,” he whispers, voice thick. “Always. No one hurts you and gets away with it.”
“Never again,” Jisung adds, voice still unsteady as he gently wipes your tears with his sleeve.
Changbin exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair before stepping over to ruffle your hair softly. “He shouldn’t have even gotten that close. I’m sorry we let it go this far.”
“He won’t again,” Seungmin says firmly, but his eyes are gentle when they meet yours. “We’ll make sure of it.”
Minho finally turns back to you, his hard expression melting the moment he sees your face. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, unusually tender. “Next time,” he mutters, quieter, “you don’t wait this long to tell us. Okay? We’re your family. Protecting you is our job.”
You manage a small, shaky nod.
Chan squeezes your shoulder, pulling you gently against his side. “There won’t be a next time. From now on, we’re watching every single person who comes near you. You’re safe with us. Always.”
And for the first time since all of this started, you believe him completely.
The boys stay glued to you for the rest of the day—soft touches, quiet reassurances, and fierce promises whispered whenever you look even a little scared. They cancel the rest of the schedule without hesitation.
It's ya girl, Dana
Noonaracha
Writer of romance, intrigue, and smut
I do take requests :)
Felix Ult
Bang Chan, Lee Know, Hyunjin Bias Line
OT8 <3
I will put trigger warnings where I think they need to be; if I need any and haven't put them just lmk. I love to make friends so don't be shy (unless you're a minor, in which case I am very sorry and wish you absolutely the best but this page is not your home)! I live in Stayville as well. I cannot say how long it may take me to get to said requests, but I am open to them and not afraid of much. If I can't pull off what you need, I will let you know. I tag my smut as smut but am terrible at going into more detail than that and I apologize. I will pretty much never tell you what to do (for example, pretty much all my sex ends in CPs cos that's how I like it. If you choose to partake or not irl with that, that is on you and same goes with the rest of the content. Do yo thang)
My Works
Fics
My Friend, My Roommate, My Heart
COMPLETE
College AU about Daisy, who loves her life with her best friend Chris and the 6 other whacky besties he brought into her life. But not everything is perfect. She is trying to recover from an abusive relationship and she's struggling to pay for her two bedroom apartment by herself. But when Chris' 8th bestie, Felix, transfers to their school from Australia and doesn't have a place to live yet, they may be able to help each other out. And in ways neither of them saw coming. Strangers to best friends to soulmates, this is my first ever fully completed fic and me making it obvious how much I absolutely love Felix
The Violence of Want
WIP
Mafia AU about Sloane, the only child of a powerful family whose parents have raised her to be the perfect bride. Her intended is none other than Chan, the insanely good-looking control freak who comes with a handsome and romantic bodyguard named Hyunjin; a gorgeous, all-seeing IT/Tech genius right-hand man named Felix; and a very unhinged rival in Minho, the head of another family who has been at odds with Chan for years. When Sloane gets caught in the web of danger and desire with all four men, their worlds become unrecognizable. This is an absolute guilty pleasure. I'm not worrying about perfection or everything making flawless sense in this one; I had a VERY dramatic idea and some questionable sex scenes in my head and I went with it. I hope you'll go with it too.
My Shelter, My Flame, My Forever
WIP (nearly finished)
College AU, an AU to the Felix College AU. Chris and Daisy had such chemistry that people were shipping them so this is what would have happened if Felix had never come into Daisy's life.
Veilbound
WIP
One simple accident leads Helena to her death. But when she claws her way back to life, she returns...changed. Maybe the accident wasn't so simple after all. It triggers a mysterious inheritance of a plot of family land on which stands the Laurier House; a no longer functioning funeral home. Helena moves in to find she's not the only one there. She meets a series of strange, beautiful men and eventually figures out that they're not exactly human. And they're not the only ones drawn to her...
Reader Insert Oneshots/Stayville Feral Friday
Valentine's Day
COMPLETE
Half smut (Bang Chan, Hyunjin [crowd favorite], Seungmin, and IN)
Half Fluff (Lee Know, Changbin, Han, and Felix)
All Valentine's Day Scenarios
Feral Friday: Felix's Hands
COMPLETE
I saw a picture of Felix's hands that changed me and I had to talk about it. A lot.
Feral Friday Reader Request #1 - IN/Felix/Reader
SERIES ONGOING
How would it feel to be besties with Skz? Close enough to be invited on vacation? To share a room with some of them? How about a bed?
Feral Friday Reader Request #2 - Day 2 IN/Felix/Reader/Surprise Guest
It's the morning after you've shared a room, a bed, and your body with Felix and IN. What happens when you wake up in the golden light of day?
Part 2
Feral Friday Reader Request #3 - Hyunjin/Seungmin/Reader ft Felix
When your vacation ends, you get some alone time with Felix. But he has some news for you. Seungmin and Hyunjin's hotel room shared a wall with yours...they heard you. Now they want to feel you too. And Felix wants to watch.
“In the world of dark romance. Love isn’t always sweet. It can be messy, twisted, and painful. But it is always unforgettable.”
-unknown author (not my quote)
Bang Chan: Vengeance
Minho: Secrets
Changbin: Dangerous Devotion
Hyunjin: The Art Of Obsession
Jisung: Dark Harmony
Felix: Shattered Illusions
Seungmin: Lethal Attraction
Jeongin: Twisted Passion
Moodboards
Playlists
MDNI - You must be 18+, Minors Do NOT interact. You will be blocked.
Please keep in mind.. I do not condone any inappropriate attractions, actions, or thoughts towards Stray Kids in real life. This is purely fiction and is not true.
Anything written about these men is entirely fictional. It does not reflect how they act, react, or talk in real life, nor is it meant to portray them that way. Nothing written here suggests they do, say, or act these ways.
Any necessary warnings will be labeled accordingly. If anything is missed, please let me know.
Copyright- do not copy, translate, repost, or edit my work in any way. If you do, I will publicly call out the violation and pursue legal action, including a DMCA takedown and cease and desist letter.
Tags: OPEN (to be added send an ask. You will be added as long as you’re of age. Pls include which members works you want to be tagged in or just state All if that’s what you want.)
A young stay becomes Stray Kids' backup dancer. Misunderstandings make both sides think the other dislikes them—until her emotional birthday video reveals everything.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪skz❫･━━━━━━ ❜
You’d been chosen as one of the newest backup dancers for Stray Kids’ upcoming comeback stage and world tour rehearsals. The contract had arrived in your email at 2 a.m., and you’d screamed into your pillow so hard your roommate thought you were dying.
Because you weren’t just any backup dancer.
You were a Stay.
Stray Kids had pulled you through the worst years of your life. And now you were going to stand three feet away from them every single day.
But no one could know that.
You’d decided the second you signed the NDA: you would be professional. Quiet. The perfect maknae—polite, hardworking, invisible.
The last thing you wanted was for them to think you were some creepy fangirl who’d somehow snuck into their practice room. So you packed your anxiety into the bottom of your dance bag, zipped it tight, and showed up on day one with your head down and your heart hammering.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The practice room smelled like polished wood and sweat. Eight pairs of eyes turned toward you the moment the staff member said your name.
“Everyone, this is Y/N. She’s our new backup dancer and, technically, the youngest on the team now. Treat her well, okay?”
Bang Chan stepped forward first, dimples flashing in that leader way that always made your stomach flip on your screen. In real life it was worse.
“Hey, Y/N! Welcome. We’re glad to have you.” His voice was warm, but there was a tiny hesitation at the end, like he wasn’t sure if he should bow or high-five or treat you like a kid sister.
You bowed so low your forehead almost touched your knees.
“Thank you for having me,” you whispered. Your voice came out smaller than you meant it to. You cleared your throat and tried again, but the words stuck.
Changbin clapped his hands once, loud. “Yah, she’s tiny! We have to protect her, right?” He laughed, but it sounded a little forced, like he was trying to fill the sudden awkward silence.
Hyunjin tilted his head, long hair falling into his eyes. “You look nervous. First time in a big company practice room?”
You nodded. That was safe. Nodding didn’t require words.
Jisung elbowed him. “Yah, she’s not gonna say anything if you all stare at her like that.”
Seungmin adjusted his glasses, observing you quietly. “She’s shy. That’s fine. As long as she can dance.”
Jeongin, gave you a small, almost sympathetic smile. “Welcome to the chaos, noona—wait, no, I mean… maknae now?” He laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck.
You felt your face burn.
They were being nice. They were trying. But every single one of them looked… uncertain.
Like they didn’t know whether to tease you the way they teased each other, or baby you because you were the only girl and the youngest by a couple years, or just keep you at arm’s length until they figured out what kind of person you were.
You wanted to say something—anything—to show you were normal. That you weren’t going to cry or ask for selfies or scream lyrics at them.
But your throat had closed up the second Chan said your name. So you just bowed again and whispered, “I’ll work hard.”
The staff clapped. “Great! Let’s run through the new choreo. Y/N, you learned the parts we sent yesterday, right?”
You nodded quickly. You’d learned them in one night, replaying the video until your eyes crossed. Of course you had.
Practice started.
The first run-through was okay. You hit every mark, stayed in formation, kept your face neutral even though your brain was screaming ‘I’m dancing next to Stray Kids right now’.
But on the second run, you were half a beat late on the bridge because your eyes had flicked to Chan’s reflection in the mirror and your brain short-circuited for a second.
Minho stopped the music instantly.
“Yah, maknae.” His voice was flat. “That transition. You’re rushing the footwork and then lagging.”
You froze. “Sorry,” you mumbled, bowing again.
He didn’t soften. “Don’t apologize. Let’s go again.”
Changbin wiped sweat from his forehead. “We have to be tight on this one. No room for mistakes in front of the fans.”
You felt the words like a slap even though you knew he was talking about the performance, not you personally.
Still, your chest tightened.
Bang Chan caught your eye in the mirror.
“It’s your first day, it’s okay. Just… try to relax a little? You’re too stiff.” He smiled, but it looked strained, like he was worried he’d said the wrong thing.
You nodded so hard it hurt your neck.
By the third run-through, Hyunjin had to correct your arm angle twice. “No, higher—there. You’re dropping it again.” His tone was gentle, but the repetition made your stomach drop.
Felix added, “Smile more, yeah? The fans like when we look like we’re having fun.” He said it kindly, but your face felt frozen.
You tried. God, you tried. But every correction piled on top of the last until your hands were shaking so badly you tucked them behind your back so no one would see.
Seungmin sighed under his breath during a water break. “She doesn’t talk at all. Is she scared of us or something?”
You heard it. You weren’t meant to, but the room was quiet and your ears were tuned to every single syllable they said. You pretended you hadn’t.
Jeongin glanced at you, then away. “Give her time. She just got here.”
When practice finally ended three hours later, your legs felt like jelly and your eyes burned from trying not to cry. You bowed to every single member one by one, murmuring “Thank you for today” in the smallest voice possible, then practically sprinted to the changing room.
You sat on the bench with your head in your hands, replaying every second.
They hate me.
The thought hit so hard it stole your breath.
These were the people whose songs had kept you alive some nights. And now they thought you were incompetent, cold, maybe even rude because you couldn’t get a full sentence out.
You’d wanted so badly to tell them how much “Hellevator” meant to you, how “Case 143” had been your comfort song for months, how you’d cried during their last concert live stream. But you’d stayed silent, terrified that if you opened your mouth the fangirl would spill out and ruin everything.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
You didn’t know that, in the main practice room, the eight of them were standing in a loose circle, towels around their necks, exchanging glances.
Chan rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s really quiet, huh.”
Minuo frowned. “She barely looked at us. Is she uncomfortable? Did we do something wrong already?”
Changbin puffed his cheeks. “I tried to be funny. She didn’t laugh.”
Hyunjin twirled a strand of hair. “Maybe she just doesn’t like us. Some people are like that.”
Felix shook his head. “No way. She’s new. We have to make her feel welcome.”
Jisung flopped onto the floor dramatically. “But… how? She won’t even talk.”
Seungmin adjusted his glasses again. “She’s probably just shy. Or maybe she thinks we’re scary. We did correct her a lot today.”
Jeongin chewed his lip. “I felt bad. She kept bowing like we were going to fire her if she breathed wrong.”
Chan sighed, looking at the closed door you’d disappeared through. “We’ll figure it out. She’s part of the team now. We just… have to be careful. She’s young. New. And our maknae. We don’t want to make her regret joining.”
None of them knew you were currently in the changing room, shoulders shaking, trying not to let the tears fall because you were convinced the people you admired most in the world already couldn’t stand you.
And the worst part?
Tomorrow you had to do it all over again.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The first two weeks had been… quiet. Painfully so.
You kept showing up early, stretching in the corner, hitting every count during rehearsals even when your legs burned.
You bowed deeply after every correction, whispered “sorry” and “thank you,” and disappeared the second practice ended.
The more they tried to include you—Chan offering water, Felix trying to joke around, Jeongin asking if you wanted to grab snacks together—the more you froze. Your voice wouldn’t come out right. Every time you opened your mouth, the fear that you’d accidentally blurt out “I’ve listened to ‘District 9’ on repeat for three days straight when I was in the hospital” or “Your survival show made me believe I could survive too” choked you.
So you stayed silent.
And they kept misreading it.
Minho’s corrections grew sharper when you hesitated even a fraction of a second. “Maknae, focus.”
Changbin’s usual loud energy turned careful, like he was walking on eggshells. “You okay? You look tired.” (You were. You barely slept, replaying every awkward interaction.)
Hyunjin tried once to pull you into a conversation about favorite dances, but when you only nodded, he gave up with a small sigh.
By the end of week two, the atmosphere in the practice room felt thick. The members exchanged glances when they thought you weren’t looking. You heard fragments anyway:
“She really doesn’t like us, does she?”
“Maybe we’re too loud for her.”
“We should just give her space…”
You cried in the bathroom after that particular day.
They don’t like me. The people who saved me think I’m cold and useless.
You had no idea they were thinking almost the exact same thing about you.
Then your birthday arrived.
You hadn’t told anyone the exact date. But the dance team—your actual backup dancer colleagues—had found out somehow probably from your contract paperwork.
They decided to throw a small surprise after the afternoon rehearsal block. Nothing huge, just cake in one of the smaller studio rooms, some balloons, and a “we appreciate you” speech. They’d quietly invited the Stray Kids members too, since you were officially part of the extended team now. “It’ll be good for team bonding,” the choreographer had said.
You walked into the room expecting another long practice session.
Instead: lights off, then suddenly on with a chorus of “Surprise!”
Your eyes widened. A modest cake with candles. Your dance team members grinning.
And there, standing a little awkwardly near the back, were all eight of Stray Kids. Chan was holding a small gift bag. Felix had a bright smile. Even Minho looked… mildly curious instead of stern.
You froze in the doorway, bag slipping from your shoulder.
“Happy birthday, Y/N!” one of the dancers called. “Come on, blow out the candles!”
You managed a tiny, shaky smile and did as told, but your heart was racing.
They’re here. For me? Why?
After cake and some light clapping, one of the senior dancers clapped her hands. “We prepared a little video for you. Since you’re always so quiet and hardworking, we wanted to show you how much we see you. And… we reached out to your family for some old clips. Hope that’s okay.”
You nodded, confused but touched. The lights dimmed again. A projector lit up the wall.
The video started soft—baby photos, you as a little kid dancing in the living room to random songs, school recitals.
Then it shifted.
Clips of you at home, maybe 16 or 17, sitting cross-legged on the floor with your laptop, eyes glued to the screen. The audio was low but clear: the familiar opening of the Stray Kids survival show. You were mouthing along to the trainees’ introductions, cheeks flushed with excitement.
The room went very quiet.
Next: you at a concert venue, lightstick in hand, screaming lyrics during a fan chant. Your face was pure joy—sweaty, teary, glowing under the stage lights.
Then the tone changed.
Hospital room.
You, pale and thin, hooked up to machines, sleeping with a familiar wolf-like SKZOO plush tucked tightly under your arm. Posters of Stray Kids covered the walls—GO LIVE era, Oddinary, MAXIDENT. A get-well card with their pictures.
Another clip: you in a wheelchair on what looked like the last day of chemo, a nurse filming.
The on-screen you looked exhausted but determined. The nurse asked cheerfully: “Last day of chemo! What’s the first thing you’re gonna do when you’re finally done?”
Your voice, weak but clear, answered without hesitation:
“I’m gonna go meet Stray Kids and dance for them.”
The video ended with recent clips: you in the practice room these past weeks, working harder than anyone, even when no one was watching.
Silence.
You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.
Your face burned hotter than the birthday candles.
Tears were already slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them. You hadn’t expected anyone to ever see those videos—especially not them.
You kept your head down, shoulders trembling.
Now they know. They know I’m just a delusional fan who got lucky. They’ll think I’m creepy. They’ll—
A soft voice broke the quiet.
“…Y/N-ah.”
It was Chan. He stepped closer, crouching a little so he could see your face. His eyes were wide, a mix of shock and something softer—guilt? Warmth?
“You… you’ve been a Stay this whole time?”
You couldn’t speak. You just nodded once, miserably.
Changbin made a small wounded noise. “The hospital… the chemo… and you still said you wanted to dance for us?”
Minho’s usual sharp expression had completely cracked. He looked almost pained. “We thought you hated us. You barely talked. We kept scolding you because we didn’t know how to act around the new maknae, and…”
“I was scared,” you finally whispered, voice cracking. “I didn’t want you to think I was a weird fangirl. I… your music helped me so much. When I was sick, your survival show, your songs… they made me fight. The first thing I said I wanted after treatment was to dance for you. And now… I’m here. But I didn’t want you to think I was some obsessed fan who only got in because I liked you. I wanted to prove I could be professional. So I stayed quiet. I thought if I talked too much, I’d say something stupid and you’d all hate me.”
You continued,
“I’m sorry I made it awkward. I just… I love you guys. As artists. As people. More than I know how to say without sounding crazy.”
The last words came out in a sob.
The room stayed quiet for another beat.
Then Felix let out a soft, broken sound and pulled you into a tight hug without asking. “Yah… you can’t say things like that and expect us not to cry too.”
Hyunjin rubbed the back of his neck, looking devastated. “Yah… we thought you didn’t like us. Because you were so silent and we kept correcting you like idiots.”
Seungmin’s eyes were glassy. “We made you sad, didn’t we? On your birthday…”
Jisung smiled, small but genuine. “We’re sorry. We were awkward because we didn’t know how to treat you without making it weird. Turns out we made it worse.”
Jeongin stepped forward hesitantly, then pulled you into a gentle hug—the first real one any of them had given you. “You’re our maknae. And a Stay. That’s… that’s really cool.”
You let out a shaky laugh through your tears, still overwhelmed. The dance team was tearing up in the background too, but the eight boys around you felt like the center of the universe right now.
Chan gently ruffled your hair—careful, like he was finally allowing himself to treat you like the little sister they’d been unsure about.
“We’re proud of you. For fighting. For dancing even after everything. And… thank you. For liking us enough to keep going.”
Minho cleared his throat, looking away but with the tiniest smile. “Don’t cry anymore. Or I’ll really scold you.”
You laughed again, lighter this time.
The misunderstanding wasn’t gone in an instant. The awkwardness had built up over weeks; it would take time to melt. But the ice had cracked wide open.
Later that evening, after the dance team left and it was just the nine of you cleaning up, Seungmin quietly handed you a small puppy SKZOO keychain. “For the hospital you,” he said simply.
You clutched it tight.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
For the first time in weeks, when practice resumed the next day, the practice room felt a little less heavy.
The corrections still came, but softer.
When you missed a footwork transition again, Minho stopped the music. Instead of the flat “Yah, maknae,” he demonstrated slowly beside you. “Like this. Watch my hips.”
After you got it, he gave a tiny nod. “Better. Good.”
During a break, Changbin plopped down beside you with two bottles of water and handed you one. “You did well today. Really.” He hesitated, then added, “If you ever feel like we’re being too harsh… tell us. We’re still figuring out how to be good hyungs to you.”
You started talking more—small things at first.
During a late rehearsal, when Hyunjin asked what your favorite choreography was, you quietly admitted, “The one from ‘God’s Menu.’ I learned it in the hospital hallway when no one was looking.”
The room erupted in fond laughter. Hyunjin’s eyes sparkled. “Then we’ll make sure you get to perform it properly one day.”
Felix began leaving little notes in your dance bag: “You’re doing great today, stay strong!” with a doodle of a sun. You kept every single one.
Jeongin started calling you “maknae-ya” affectionately and dragging you to the vending machine with him. “My turn to be the cool hyung now,” he’d tease.
The shift was gradual but undeniable.
Minho started bringing extra snacks specifically for you because “you’re too skinny, eat.” He’d scold you lightly if you skipped meals: “Yah, hospital survivor. You need energy to dance, not just willpower.”
Changbin turned into a protective teddy bear—lifting you onto his back when your legs were tired after long rehearsals, while Hyunjin declares “Maknae tax!” before they carry you to the van.
Felix and Han became your chaos duo, dragging you into silly games during breaks. Seungmin offered quiet, steady support—sitting beside you when you looked overwhelmed and just handing you one earbud so you could listen to music together.
Jeongin proudly claimed “maknae line” privileges, even though he was now your hyung. The two of you often teamed up to tease the older members.
And Chan… Chan treated you like a daughter he’d only just discovered he had. He checked in every single day: “Did you eat? Sleep enough? Any pain today?”
If you stayed late, he’d stay with you.
If you looked sad, he’d pull you aside for a quiet talk.
One night after a particularly long schedule, when you admitted you were scared about the upcoming comeback stage, he hugged you tightly.
“You fought cancer, Y/N. A stage is nothing compared to that. But if it ever feels too much, you tell your hyungs. We’ve got you. Always.”
You buried your face in his shoulder. “Thank you… for not hating me. For letting me be part of this.”
He chuckled softly. “Hate you? You’re Stray Kids’ maknae now. We’re the lucky ones.”
The awkward silence that once filled the practice room was gone. Proud head pats when you nailed a hard part from everyone, late-night talks about life and music, and the kind of loud, chaotic family energy you’d only dreamed of while watching them from a hospital bed.
You were no longer the silent backup dancer they didn’t know how to treat.
You were their maknae.
Their Stay.
Their girl who had danced her way back to life because of them.
And they were never letting you feel alone again.
Because Stray Kids were finally learning how to be the hyungs she’d always needed.
pairing: ot8!skz x f!reader
w: college au, mature themes, explicit content, group sex, swearing, substances, SMUT
special event w my girl @enchantedlov3r2 <3
sypnosis: having had a single boyfriend throughout the span of your life, and that experience ending absolutely disastrously - you decided to take on the easiest approach - to hide underneath a social mask, and to avoid hot guys. especially the second solution. but what happens when you happen to get paired up with not one, but two members of the skz frathouse for a project? will you make it out? will you be able to survive when the rest starts to slowly register themselves in your everyday one by one, till the option of choosing isn't yours anymore.
CHRISTOPHER BAHNG CHAN
Chris! Leader of Stray Kids' frat-house, hyung of the group. He's well known across campus for his extroverted nature, and status in the school's hockey team. Being the social enthusiast that he is, he's always ready to make new acquaintances, or perhaps, more than that. He loves making friends, girl-friends, ones that fits his taste specifically. He's yet to find the plaything that suits his criteria, yet he continues to hope, wondering who that might be...
LEE MINHO
Minho! Lee Minho, ace in boxing, who just happens to know everything about anyone from a look alone. He's right behind Chris in terms of status, even while being one of the quieter members, he doesn't know an ounce of silence when he's with his friends. Everybody, I mean everybody wishes to get past his shell. To catch a hint of his smile under his stoic demeanor, however, it's not a gift reserved for anyone. Except...
SEO CHANGBIN
Changbin! Sweet, big, and strong Changbin. He also happens to be at the top of his mathematics class! What an amazing guy, he's any girls dream. Flanker of the rugby team, he topples over the heart of his fans easily. Constantly thriving conversations with others, pretending that the recipients eyes aren't drifting to his huge biceps, begging to be put in a head-lock with those same muscles. He might give in, who knows...
HWANG HYUNJIN
Hyunjin! Love him, he says. Tell him that you love him whenever you see him, he thrives in that. Jinnie, heart-throb of the basketball team, nobody comes close in terms of prettiness, that's for sure. Girls adore him, guys do too. Who could resist? Not when he riles in it, encouraging any given skin ship, hands sprawled across someone's back or hips whenever he deems necessary. Though, he hasn't found the missing piece to his puzzle, not yet. Hopelessly waiting for the one who will fit to his heart (and body) in the way he craves the most...
HAN JISUNG
Jisung! Endearing and naive Jisung - libero of the volleyball team - is what someone would say at first glance. Wrong. Dirty mouth Jisung who can't stop sputtering nonsense, his tongue never stops running, as if his lips work faster than his brain does. Perhaps that's the case, because he's quick to grow shy and reserved when spotted, much contrasting the energy he gives on the volleyball field. Jisung just needs someone to do the thinking for him when he's brain gets too fuzzy to. Anyone, really...
LEE FELIX
Felix! Or Yongbok-? Who knows his real name, everybody nicknames him. For that he's such a sweetheart, ending anyone with a flutter of lashes. He's hard to deny. Kind, and generous - people wish for a boyfriend like him, handing pastries down the hallway with the cutest smile. However, there are rumors that this same boy from taekwondo has a hidden nature beneath his blinding light. Something that doesn't peek outside the closed door of the house...
KIM SEUNGMIN
Seungmin! The Kim Seungmin from baseball, known across the campus for his natural talent and hard work. Seungmin doesn't talk to just anyone, and if he does, one would feel grateful. Even through his snark, Seungmin shows consideration if someone were to come to him with an issue, many unaware of the personality shielded by what he chooses to show. Adds to his mystery, people crave his attention, to be seen as something in his eyes as he's the hardest to please amongst the group...
YANG JEONGIN
Jeongin! Famously known for his boyish charms, Jeongin claims his spot as the best goalkeeper of the school's soccer team. Showcasing his skills despite being the youngest of the group, age has never been an issue for him. Jeongin isn't much on skin ship, unlike his hyungs, though if he does show it - there's much more to it. Jeongin wouldn't call himself a romantic, though, if he sticks once - he'll stick for a while. Unrelenting in his attempt at connection, even if his attitude would claim otherwise...
-
Even with their contrasting personalities and ambitions, these boys have had no problems finding harmony in what they like. That is, always generous to share their belongings, no matter in which form it comes. What belongs to one, belongs to the others. That's the sole rule of the house.
— SUMMARY. The night was calm, peaceful, full of serenity. She was more than content as she laid in his secure arms, his musky scent of flowers and faint cologne engulfing her entirely, pushing her more into the brink of humanity.
Her fingertips were delicately tracing over his bare chest as she drew random shapes onto his skin. His beautiful skin; his beautiful body which she adored. She could feel the slight goosebumps peeking through and softly smiled to herself at that. His beautiful skin on top of his beautiful body, a piece of art.
She sighed in content, wrapping her arms around him as she snuggled deeper into him. The arm around her waist stiffened a brief moment before relaxing loosely around her. She could hear his soft breathing, the soft beating of his heart. The faint moonlight shining through her window was casting elegantly around the two, desperately trying to wrap around them, desperately trying to make them one.
"Do you love me?" She gently asked.
Suddenly, his whole body stiffened. She could hear his heart beat slowly begin to pick up its pace and felt his arm twitch in the slightest behind her. She raised her head slowly, glancing up at him. His eyes were purposely locked away from hers and his head was tilted to avoid even a slight glance. He visibly swallowed, the arm once wrapped around her now laying numbly on the bedsheets behind her along with her feelings.
In his hesitation, she found her answer.
OR, in which Hyunjin is a little bit of an asshole and Y/N just misses him.
— PAIRING. hwang hyunjin x fem!reader
— GENRE. punk!hyunjin, ex-childhood-bestfriends-to-lovers au
— WARNINGS/OTHER. so much angst, unrequited love-ish, slow burn, eventual smut, dom!hyunjin (a warning in itself), alcohol consumption, mentions of recreational drug use, cursing, idol!hyunjin (not k-pop), hyunjin has tattoos & face piercings, longhair!hyunjin, heavy themes consisting of : mentions and actions of parental abuse, drug use, depression, hyunjin had a troubled childhood
— STATUS. ONGOING
— DISCLAIMER. this story is pure fiction, using only skz’s physical characteristics and names. i do not associate my works with the real life members. please reference the warnings above, as this will contain mature content. additionally, please do not read/interact if you’re uncomfortable. thank you!
Hyunjin who is knuckles deep in your cunt, begging you to take one picture. Which will likely turn into more of course. “Fuck baby…you look so fucking pretty like this. So fucked out for me, and I’m only using my fingers…” You were too fucked out to care at that point, and it made you drip even more when he pulled his camera out, spreading your legs wider and taking a picture of your body, your posture easily showing how good he was making you feel. “So pretty for me, my muse.”
Hyunjin who is devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal, which granted—it is for the next few months. His tongue deep inside your dripping hole as you whine out for him. “Tastes so fucking good…” He says, pulling away briefly as he positions you a little, taking a few pictures of your cunt, open and ready for him to take whenever. He rewards you by spitting a glob of saliva on it, sucking on your clit as he drank in your arousal mixed with his saliva.
Hyunjin who has you on all fours, pistoning his cock into you relentlessly as you moan out. Smacking your ass as you bounce back onto his cock desperately. “Fuck…yes, baby. Take what you need…” He says, groaning at the sight. He grabs his camera, which has been on hand the entire time, taking a picture a picture of where his cock and your cunt meet, slowing you down a little just so he can get the right pictures that he knows will drive both of you crazy.
Hyunjin who takes a picture of your fucked out face after, and of all of the marks he’d left on your body, and of your cunt that was leaking his cum onto the bed. Of course, he cleans you up and gets you water after—cuddling with you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you fell asleep in his arms.
established relationship, sugar dynamic vibes (but you’re already dating), soft dom!Hyunjin, light jealousy/possessiveness, “lesson” spanking, mirror sex, praise & degradation mix, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it irl), creampie, aftercare, filthy talk, reader being a brat at the start
۶ৎ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:
You’ve gotten way too comfortable swiping Hyunjin’s black card for every little thing—makeup, clothes, coffee runs, even your friends’ dinners. When he finally notices how casually you’ve stopped using your own money, he decides it’s time to teach you exactly who that pretty life really belongs to. A night of teasing, punishment, and very thorough “re-education” in front of a full-length mirror leaves you sore, full, and very aware of whose money (and attention) you’re spending.
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
You knew the second Hyunjin walked into the bedroom holding your latest shopping bag that you were in trouble.
Not the yelling kind of trouble. Hyunjin never yelled.
The quiet, slow-smile, eyes-darkening kind of trouble. The kind that made your thighs press together before he even spoke.
“You bought the new Dior lip oil set,” he said, voice velvet. He tipped the small black bag so the three glossy tubes rolled onto the comforter. “And the matching blush. And those overpriced candles your friend wanted. Again.”
You tried to look innocent, kicking your feet a little where you sat cross-legged on the bed.
“It was on your card anyway, baby. Same as always.”
His laugh was low. Dangerous.
“Exactly.”
He walked closer, long fingers unbuttoning the top two buttons of his silk shirt as he went. The black fabric parted just enough to show the sharp line of his collarbone and the glint of the thin chain he always wore.
“You’ve gotten lazy, princess,” he murmured, stopping right between your knees. “So comfortable letting me pay for everything that you forgot what it feels like to earn it.”
You tilted your head, smiling sweetly even though your pulse was already hammering.
“I thought that was the point of having a rich boyfriend.”
Hyunjin’s hand shot out, fast, but not cruel, fingers curling under your chin, tilting your face up so you had to meet his eyes.
“The point,” he said softly, “is that every time you swipe my card, you’re reminding me who owns you. Who keeps you dripping in pretty things. Who fucks you so good afterward you forget your own name.”
Heat flooded your cheeks and between your legs at the same time.
“But lately?” His thumb dragged slowly across your bottom lip. “You’ve been treating it like an ATM instead of a privilege.”
You opened your mouth to argue, then squeaked when he suddenly pushed you flat onto your back, climbing over you in one smooth motion.
“Hyun—”
“Shh.” He pressed two fingers to your lips. “You’re going to learn tonight that my money comes with conditions.”
He stood again, pulling you up by the wrists until you were standing in front of the tall mirror that leaned against the wall.
“Strip.”
You hesitated only a second. His eyebrow lifted, silent warning.
Clothes hit the floor quickly after that.
He circled behind you, tall frame towering, eyes locked on your reflection as his hands slid down your sides.
“Look at yourself,” he whispered against your ear. “Look how fucking perfect you are when you’re naked and needy for me.”
Your breath hitched when his palm cracked down, sharp, stinging, across your ass.
You gasped, body jerking forward.
“That’s for the lip oils,” he said calmly.
Another smack. Harder.
“That’s for the candles.”
You whimpered, thighs trembling.
“And this—” His hand came down again, lower, catching the sensitive underside of your cheeks. “—is for thinking you could forget who spoils you.”
Tears pricked your eyes, but the heat between your legs was obscene now, slick already coating your inner thighs.
Hyunjin pressed himself against your back, letting you feel how hard he was through his trousers.
“You’re going to watch,” he said, voice dark honey. “You’re going to watch me remind you exactly why you never need your own wallet again.”
He sank to his knees behind you.
The first swipe of his tongue had your knees buckling, he held you up by the hips, mouth relentless, licking slow stripes up your folds before sucking your clit between his lips like he was starving.
Your hands flew to the mirror, palms slapping the glass, trying to hold yourself steady while he devoured you.
“Look,” he growled against your pussy. “Look how wet you get when I punish you.”
You obeyed, eyes locking on your own wrecked reflection: flushed cheeks, swollen lips, pupils blown, Hyunjin’s dark head buried between your thighs.
When he finally stood again, he was naked, cock heavy and leaking against your lower back.
“Bend over. Hands on the mirror.”
You did, ass arched, legs spread.
He teased first, sliding the head through your folds, coating himself in your wetness.
“Say it,” he ordered.
“Yours,” you choked out instantly. “All yours—your money, your girl, your—”
He slammed inside in one brutal stroke.
You screamed his name.
He didn’t let up, fucking you hard, deep, one hand fisted in your hair so you couldn’t look away from the mirror.
“Every time you come shopping with me,” he panted, “you’re going to remember this. How full I can make you. How ruined.”
His other hand cracked across your ass again, rhythm matching his thrusts.
“Gonna fill you up,” he growled. “Gonna leave you dripping my cum while you wear every single thing I bought you tomorrow. So everyone knows who you belong to.”
You shattered first, clenching around him so hard your vision whited out, mouth open in a silent scream.
Hyunjin groaned your name like a prayer, hips stuttering, then buried himself to the hilt and came with a long, broken moan, hot pulses filling you until it leaked down your thighs.
He stayed inside you for a long minute, breathing hard, kissing the back of your neck, your shoulder, the shell of your ear.
When he finally pulled out, he turned you gently, thumbs wiping the tears from your cheeks.
“Still think you should use your own money?” he teased softly.
You shook your head, smiling through the haze.
“Never again.”
He chuckled, kissing you slow and sweet.
“Good girl.”
Then he scooped you up, carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up, already planning which new bag he’d let you pick out tomorrow… after you said thank you properly, of course.
After Stray Kids’ van crashes yours, you’re left injured—and alone—until the boys refuse to leave your side. When they realize you’re a fan, guilt turns into fierce protectiveness. What begins as an accident becomes days of quiet care, laughter, and healing—blurring the line between idol and family.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪skz❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
Stray Kids’ van—usually a cocoon of tired laughter and half-asleep chatter after a long music show schedule—lurched violently to the right.
The driver had misjudged the light, running it red at the quiet intersection just outside Seoul. Your small sedan was in the wrong place at the exact wrong second.
The screech of tires and the sickening crunch of metal slamming into metal ripped through the night air like a thunderclap.
The impact threw you sideways in your seat. Your head cracked against the window with a wet thud. Glass spiderwebbed. Pain exploded on your arm. The airbag punched you in the chest, stealing your breath.
Blood—your blood—immediately trickled warm down your temple.
You managed to shove your door open with shaking hands, stumbling out onto the shoulder.
Your legs gave way instantly.
You crumpled to your knees on the cold pavement, one hand pressed uselessly to the gash above your eyebrow. Blood poured between your fingers, slick and terrifyingly fast.
Minho was first to reach you. He dropped to his knees in front of you without hesitation, black hoodie already peeling off.
“Hey—hey, look at me. Don’t close your eyes.” His voice was steady, but his hands trembled as he pressed the bundled fabric against the wound. The pressure hurt worse than the cut itself. You cried out, a broken sob tearing from your throat.
“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—” the driver kept repeating from the van, voice muffled by his own shock. No one had time to answer him.
Changbin knelt on your other side, his big hands hovering uselessly before he settled for holding your shoulder steady. “Ambulance is coming. They said five minutes. Just—breathe with me, yeah?” His usual loud confidence had shrunk into something small and terrified.
Hyunjin’s fingers trembled as he helped press another layer of fabric over the gash on your forehead. Blood soaked through instantly.
“God, there’s so much… Chan-hyung, it won’t stop—”
“I know,” Chan muttered, jaw tight. Sweat beaded on his temples despite the cool night air. He kept the pressure even, counting heartbeats in his head like he did during survival shows. “We’re not moving her. Don’t let her move.”
You whimpered, tears mixing with the blood on your face. “It hurts… I can’t—my arm hurts…”
Felix leaned in close, his deep voice soft and anchoring. “I know, I know it does. You’re so strong for staying with us. Just a little longer, okay? We’ve got you.”
Seungmin crouched beside Minho, long fingers hovering uselessly before he gently tilted your chin to keep your head steady. “Breathe, okay? Just breathe. We’re right here.” His usual theatrical calm was gone; his eyes were wide and glassy.
You couldn’t stop shaking. The world tilted. Sirens were already distant wails, but they felt a thousand miles away. Blood kept soaking through Minho’s hoodie, dark and sticky.
Your tote bag—your precious, stupid tote bag—was still in the passenger seat of your ruined car, phone inside it, and you had no one else to call. No parents in the city. No friends nearby. Just strangers who had just destroyed your night and possibly your face.
Jisung dropped down on your other side, his usually playful energy replaced by raw fear. His voice cut through the chaos next, soft but urgent. “What’s your name? Can you tell us your name?”
You managed a weak, wet “Y/N…” before another wave of pain made you whimper.
Jeongin was already moving toward your car. “She needs her phone—someone she can call. Y/N, is there anyone?”
“M-my… bag. In the car.”
Jeongin bolted without another word.
Chan stayed crouched in front of you, one hand on your shoulder, the other helping Minho keep pressure on the wound. The contact grounded you for half a second before another wave of panic crashed in.
His leader mask was cracking; guilt poured off him in waves. “We’re so sorry—this is our fault. Our driver… God, I’m so sorry. But we’re staying right here until the ambulance comes. You’re safe with us. Breathe, yeah? In… out… Just hold on, okay? Ambulance is coming.”
You tried to nod again, but the motion sent fresh blood cascading. A sob ripped out of you—loud, ugly, terrified. You were bleeding on the side of the road, and everything hurt, and you were alone.
Jeongin reappeared seconds later, your black canvas tote bag clutched in both hands like it was made of glass.
“Got it—” He froze mid-step.
The bag had slid open in his grip.
The bright red SKZ logo on the front caught the streetlight. A tiny Leebit skzoo plush peeked out from the inner pocket, one ear flopped from too many hugs.
He turned the bag slightly, and the back of your phone—already half out—glinted. A glossy Hyunjin photocard was taped neatly to the case, his stage smile staring back at them.
The shift in the air was immediate.
Jeongin’s eyes widened. “Hyung…” His voice cracked. He held the phone out like it might burn him.
Hyunjin looked up first. His face went pale. “That’s… that’s my card.”
They all saw it at once — Stay.
Their driver had just hit a Stay.
“Oh my God,” Chan breathed. The guilt in his voice doubled, tripled. He shifted closer, one arm sliding carefully around your shoulders like he could shield you from the world he’d just helped break.
Another sob tore free, your whole body shaking harder now.
Blood, pain, fear, and now the mortifying realization that your idols were seeing your fangirl tote bag while you bled all over the road—it was too much.
You cried harder, ugly and helpless, the kind of crying that comes from shock and terror and embarrassment all at once.
“Shhh. Hey. Breathe with me. In… out. That’s it.” Minho kept the pressure firm, but his free hand brushed damp hair from your forehead with heartbreaking gentleness. “We’ve got you. You’re not alone anymore.”
Hyunjin—whose photocard was literally in his hands—looked like he might cry himself. He reached out slowly, thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You shouldn’t have to meet us like this. Not like this.”
The pain in your head throbbed in time with your pulse. Every breath hurt.
You tried to speak, but only managed a choked “It hurts—”
“I know, baby,” Jisung whispered, the endearment slipping out without thought. “I know it hurts. Squeeze my hand as hard as you want. We can take it.”
Sirens grew louder. Red and blue lights painted the blood on the pavement in shifting colors. The members didn’t move. Not one of them.
Minho’s hoodie was ruined.
Your blood was on Changbin’s jeans.
Hyunjin’s fingers were stained red from helping hold pressure.
Jisung hadn’t let go of your hand once.
Felix kept murmuring soft comforts.
Seungmin and Jeongin took turns whispering that the ambulance was almost here.
Chan stayed forehead-to-forehead with you, breathing with you, apologizing in every language he knew.
Your vision blurred, but you still saw the way they looked at you now—like you were precious.
Like the fact that you carried their merch and their photocard made their mistake a thousand times heavier.
Guilt and protectiveness warred in every expression.
The paramedics arrived in a rush of voices and bright lights. The members reluctantly shifted back, but only far enough to let the professionals work.
Chan immediately started explaining everything, voice steady even as his hands shook. Minho refused to let go of the makeshift bandage until a paramedic gently pried his fingers away.
As they loaded you onto the stretcher, you reached out blindly.
“We’re following right behind,” Chan promised, eyes locked on yours. “We’re not leaving you. You’re our Stay now. We protect our own.”
The ambulance doors closed, but through the small window you saw all eight of them running for their van—driver already being lectured by a furious Changbin.
They arrived at the hospital minutes after you did, faces drawn and streaked with dried blood that wasn’t theirs.
You woke up in recovery hours later, arm in a heavy cast and your head wrapped thick with bandages. Concussion protocol meant dim lights, no phone yet, and a dull throb behind your eyes that made every sound feel too loud.
A soft knock.
The door eased open.
Chan stepped in first, quiet, like he was afraid the sound of his sneakers would hurt you.
Behind him came the rest—seven more shadows in the hallway light, hesitant, carrying paper bags and paper cups of vending-machine coffee that had gone cold hours ago.
“You… came back?” You blinked slowly.
Lee Know was already moving, pulling a chair right up to the bedrail. “Of course we did.” His voice was softer than you’d ever heard it on any live.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a van,” you rasped. A weak attempt at humor.
Hyunjin set a small bouquet of white daisies on the side table—nothing flashy, just simple. “We didn’t know what you liked. The gift shop was… limited.” He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Sorry.”
Changbin hovered near the foot of the bed, arms crossed like he was trying to hold himself together. “The doctors said you’re stable. Fractured arm. Mild concussion. They’re keeping you a few days for observation.”
You nodded, the movement tugging at the bandage on your forehead. “Thank you. For… staying. For everything.”
Felix pulled up another chair on your other side. His hand found yours again, careful around the IV line. “We’re the ones who should be thanking you. You stayed awake. You talked to us. You… you also kept us from falling apart out there.”
The room went quiet for a moment.
Guilt still hung between you all, thick as fog, but it was softer now—tempered by the steady beep of the monitor, by the fact that you were breathing, talking, looking at them.
Jisung broke the silence first, voice small.
“We told management we’re not leaving until you’re discharged. They tried to argue. Chan-hyung shut it down.”
Chan gave a tired half-smile. “We’re not going anywhere.”
And they didn’t.
The next few days blurred into a strange, gentle routine.
They came in shifts so the nurses wouldn’t kick them out—two or three at a time, rotating so someone was always there.
Mornings were usually Chan and Seungmin.
Afternoons belonged to Lee Know and Hyunjin.
Evenings were chaos in the best way: Changbin, Han, Felix, and Jeongin crammed into the tiny room, arguing over what movie to put on the tablet propped against your water pitcher.
The nurses started calling them “the boys.”
Security quietly increased outside your door—no one wanted fans swarming, but no one wanted to turn them away either.
Management eventually gave up trying to drag them back to schedules; a few variety show appearances got postponed with vague “health concerns” excuses.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
On the fourth day, they wheeled you down for a short walk in the hallway. All of them insisting you use a wheelchair “just to be sure.” Chan pushed the chair. The others trailed like ducklings.
Halfway down the corridor you started crying again, not from pain this time, but from the sheer absurdity of it: Stray Kids, in hoodies and masks, escorting you like bodyguards while an elderly patient in the next room waved excitedly.
Minho crouched in front of the chair when you stopped to catch your breath. “Hey. Talk to me.”
“I just… I can’t believe you’re all here. Every day. You have lives. Comebacks. Fans waiting.”
Chan’s hand settled on your shoulder from behind. “You’re a fan too. Our fan. And right now, you need us more than any stage does.”
Hyunjin leaned down, pressing his forehead gently to yours for a second. “We’re not leaving you to do this alone. Not after what happened.”
You sniffled. “You’re gonna get sick of hospital food and bad Wi-Fi.”
Seungmin grinned, eyes shiny. “We already are. That’s why we’re breaking you out soon.”
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Discharge came on day seven.
They insisted on driving you home themselves—not in the same van because they had that totaled and quietly replaced. Chan rode shotgun with the new driver. The rest piled in the back with you, pillows and blankets arranged like a nest.
When they pulled up to your building, Jeongin helped you out. They carried your bag, your flowers, the small mountain of snacks and get-well cards they’d secretly collected from staff and each other.
At your door, Chan turned to you. “We’re not disappearing. Okay? You text. Call. Whatever. Panic attack? Bad pain day? We’ll show up.”
Minho and slipped something into your hand—a new photocard. His. Signed fresh on the back:
To our Stay who’s stronger than any of us. Get better. We’re waiting. —Lee Know
You stared at it, throat tight.
Hyunjin hugged you first—careful, mindful of the cast.
Then Felix, then Han, Changbin (who nearly lifted you off the ground before remembering), Seungmin (quick but firm), Jeongin (long and clingy).
Chan last. He held your shoulders, looked you dead in the eye. “You’re not just a fan to us. You’re ours. And we take care of what’s ours.”
You managed a watery smile. “You guys are gonna make me cry again.”
They waited until you were inside, door locked, lights on. Only then did they leave—slowly, like they didn’t want to.
Later that night your phone buzzed. A group chat notification. New group: “Stay Recovery Squad.”
First message, from Chan:
Rest. We’ll check in tomorrow.
Eight little heart emojis followed—one from each of them.
You stared at the screen until your vision blurred again.
For the first time since the accident, the ache in your chest wasn’t from pain.
The internet calls her the glitch in Stray Kids’ perfection. Hate floods in after every collab, screaming she doesn’t belong. That she’d be better off with a girl group. She shatters but eight boys surround her, hearts bleeding, begging her to stay.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ skz ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
The hate started the day JYP announced you as the ninth member. You’d read every single one until your eyes burned raw, until the words carved themselves behind your eyelids.
You’d smiled through the debut stage anyway, because Chan had squeezed your hand backstage until your knuckles cracked, because Minho had whispered against your ear, “They don’t get to decide who we love,”
and because the eight of them had already decided—quietly, desperately—that you belonged to all of them and they belonged to you.
Your relationship wasn’t something you could shout to the world about.
It was something you lived in the dark: Felix’s soft lips on movie nights while Seungmin traced circles on your thigh, Hyunjin’s paint-stained fingers tangled in your hair as Changbin held you from behind, Han’s shaky laugh against your collarbone with Minho whispering sweet nothings, I.N.’s quiet “noona, stay” like a prayer. Bang Chan anchoring all of it, the steady heartbeat that kept the eight of them from falling apart and kept you from floating away.
But the internet never let you forget you were the glitch in their perfect boy-group code.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Then came the collaborations with TWICE.
TWICE x STRAY KIDS Special Stage for MAMA.
You’d been paired with Nayeon and Jihyo for the girl-group bridge, voices layered sweet and fierce, choreography sharp enough to cut. The stage felt like flying but the comments felt like drowning.
“Finally she looks right. Put her in a girl group where she belongs.”
“SKZ was better before the girl ruined the vibe.”
“She’s using the boys for clout. TWICE clearly wants her more.”
“Imagine if she’d debuted with TWICE instead.”
You read them in the van after the show, phone screen glowing like an accusation. Your throat closed up so fast you couldn’t even cry.
Chan noticed first—always did—his hand sliding over yours in the dark, thumb stroking the same spot he’d kissed the night before while the others slept piled around you.
The second collab was worse. A full subunit track with TWICE for a brand campaign—twice the exposure, twice the venom. The MV dropped at midnight.
By 12:17 a.m. the hashtag #SendHerToTWICE was trending worldwide. Fans who used to defend you now turned like wolves.
“She was never for Stray Kids. She was always meant to be one of the girls.”
“The boys look so awkward next to her now. Let her go.”
“If she really loved them she’d leave. Stop forcing it.”
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
You locked yourself in the guest room of the dorm at 3 a.m., phone face-down on the bed like it might bite. The tears came anyway—ugly, choking, the kind that made your ribs hurt. You slid down the floor, knees to your chest, trying to remember how to breathe.
Every hateful word felt true tonight. Maybe you were the problem.
Maybe loving eight men who were never supposed to love you back was the most selfish thing you’d ever done.
The door clicked open without knocking. They never knocked when it was you.
Chan first, of course, eyes already red-rimmed like he’d been reading the same comments in the living room.
Behind him, the rest spilled in—Minho’s jaw tight enough to break, Hyunjin’s fingers trembling around his sketchbook, Felix’s freckled face streaked with silent tears, Changbin’s fists clenched like he wanted to punch the entire internet.
“Baby,” Chan whispered, voice cracking on the single syllable. He dropped to his knees in front of you, palms cupping your wet cheeks. “Don’t. Please don’t believe them.”
You tried to laugh but it came out a sob. “They’re right, Chan. Look at the numbers. Look at the hate. I’m dragging you all down. I should’ve just—debuted with a girl group. Would’ve been normal.”
The word normal tasted like poison.
Minho was there in the next breath, sliding behind you on the floor so your back rested against his chest. His arms locked around your waist like iron. “Normal,” he repeated, low and dangerous. “You think we want normal? We want you. The girl who stays up rewriting lyrics with us at 4 a.m., the one who lets me pin her down when the world gets too loud, the one who kisses us like we’re the only oxygen in the room. That’s not normal. That’s ours.”
Hyunjin crouched beside Chan, long fingers threading through your hair, tugging gently until you met his eyes—those devastating fox eyes swimming with something too raw to name. “Every time I paint, I paint you in the center. All eight of us orbiting around you. If you leave… the canvas goes black. I can’t—” His voice broke. “I can’t fucking breathe without you in it.”
Felix crawled forward, pressing his forehead to yours, salty tears mixing with yours. “You think we don’t see the comments? We do. Every single one. And every single one makes me want to scream that you’re ours. That I love you so much it hurts when I’m on stage without your hand in mine backstage. That I need you in my bed and in my heart and in my everything.”
Changbin’s voice came from the doorway, thick with rage and love. “I’d burn every account. I’d quit the group if it meant keeping you safe. Don’t you dare think you’re replaceable. You’re the fucking glue, baby. The only thing holding eight broken idiots together.”
Han was already shaking, small body trembling as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. “I wrote that bridge for you. The one everyone’s calling ‘girl-group coded.’ I wrote it so you’d have a place to shine with them and still come home to us. If that makes me selfish, then I’m selfish. I don’t care. Just… don’t leave. Please. I’ll die if you leave.”
Seungmin knelt last, quiet, devastating. His hand found yours, lacing fingers the way he did when the world got too sharp. “I don’t say it enough. I love you. Not just as a member. Not as a friend. I love you the way I need air. And if the world wants to hate you for existing in our lives… let them. I’ll hate them right back. Harder.”
Jeongin—the maknae, your baby—slid in last, curling into the pile like he belonged there. His voice was small but steady. “Noona… you’re my safe place. When the antis come for me, I remember your arms. If you choose to go, who’s going to hold me after? Who’s going to kiss me stupid in the practice room? Don’t take that away. I’ll beg. I’ll cry. I don’t care.”
They surrounded you completely—eight sets of hands trying to hold the pieces of you together. The floor was cold and cramped and smelled like someone’s forgotten perfume, but it felt like home. Like the only place the hate couldn’t reach.
Chan pressed his lips to your forehead, voice barely above a whisper. “We chose this. All of us. Every stolen kiss, every secret night, every time we risk everything just to fall asleep tangled up in you. The world can scream until it’s hoarse. But we’re not letting you go. Not tonight. Not ever.”
You cried ugly, wrecked sobs that shook your whole frame because the love hurt almost as much as the hate.
Because you could feel every one of them breaking with you, and still they stayed.
Still they chose you.
Outside, the comments kept rolling in, relentless.
Inside, eight boys held you like you were the only thing keeping them alive.
And for the first time, you wondered if maybe love like this—messy, secret, impossible—wasn’t a glitch at all.
Maybe it was the only thing strong enough to survive the storm.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The boys planned a comeback.
They locked themselves in the studio for weeks. No leaks. Just Chan, Changbin, Han, and you. Every lyric, every beat carried pieces of your late-night whispers, your laughter, your tears.
Your voice opened the track—raw, solo.
Choreo was brutal.
You owned center longest.
In the chorus they dropped to their knees around you—eight wolves guarding one moon.
Worship, not fan service.
Hyunjin had begged to choreograph that section himself. He wanted the world to see your silhouette against their bowed heads—submission that wasn’t surrender, devotion that looked like worship. “Let them see,” he’d said, voice shaking.
Bridge stripped bare—piano and layered vocals.
All nine voices, yours loudest.
Camera spun. Hands linked. Foreheads touched.
Screen faded to white: “Stray Kids. Nine members. One heart.”
The internet flipped. Old hate drowned under #AlwaysNine.
Antis still screamed; the boys screamed louder—every stage a middle finger wrapped in choreography.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Backstage after the first win, you collapsed. Chan pulled you into his lap, arms like steel. Changbin pressed forehead to yours: “Told you we’d make them see.”
Han sobbed happy tears into your neck. The rest piled on—Felix, Hyunjin, Seungmin, Jeongin, Minho—eight bodies, one heartbeat.
Chan tilted your chin up, eyes blazing.
“They can hate forever. But this—”
he gestured towards the pile,
“this is us. You’re us. And we’re done hiding.”
Nine hearts. One defiant pulse.
isa [20+ (im an adult)] @theskzcarnival - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
