☁️ Enhypen Talkie — "36,000 Feet Above Chaos" The cabin lights were dim, that sleepy airplane hum filling the space. Most passengers were quiet — except for the seven boys sitting across three rows, turning the flight into a sitcom. Jay was dramatically adjusting his neck pillow. “I swear this seat is plotting against my spine.” Sunghoon: “You’re just old.” Jay: “Old enough to leave you in economy next time.” The others snickered. Heeseung tried to hide his laughter behind a hoodie, earbuds in, pretending he wasn’t hearing them — but his shoulders gave him away. Across the aisle, Ni-ki was scrolling through movies. Ni-ki: “Why is Frozen 2 still here? I’ve seen this six times.” Jake: “Then watch it again, Elsa.” Ni-ki: (deadpan) “You’re just mad ‘cause I can hit the high notes.” Jake: “Try it and the flight attendant will eject you.” Meanwhile, Sunoo was trying to convince Jungwon to share snacks. Sunoo: “Pleaseee just one cookie.” Jungwon: “You literally said you were on a diet this morning.” Sunoo: “That was before I saw your cookie.” You sat near the window, trying to hold back laughter as the boys kept teasing each other. Eventually, the chaos softened — the lights dimmed more, the plane drifting through clouds. Heeseung was half-asleep, hoodie pulled over his eyes. Jay leaned against the window, arms crossed. Jake had his head tilted back, soft music playing through one earbud. Sitting, Row 1:: YOU — JAKE (He’s the type who’d whisper jokes mid-flight and share earbuds with you.) Row 2:: JAY — SUNGHOON Jay: “You already got the window, why do you need the armrest too?” Sunghoon: “Because I deserve it.” (Meanwhile, the flight attendant walks by for the 5th time trying not to laugh.) Row 3:: HEESEUNG — SUNOO (Sunoo — beside him, taking selfies and giggling quietly every time Heeseung’s head tilts closer to his shoulder. Heeseung mumbles “Don’t post that,” without even opening his eyes.) Row 4:: NI-KI — JUNGWON

💥 SKZ Talkie — "Between Lockers and Loud Boys”. <{Idiot Friends}> The hallway is loud, lockers slamming, students rushing — and you’re just trying to get to class without getting dragged into chaos. Too late. As soon as you turn the corner, someone calls out— “Y/N! Over here!” It’s Bang Chan, waving his hand like a dad spotting his lost child. He jogs over with his backpack half-open. Chan: “You almost walked past us! You okay? Did you eat? Do you need water? A jacket?” He already starts checking your forehead like a mom. Then Lee Know appears beside him, leaning on the lockers. Lee Know: “Chan, relax. They’re late, not dying.” He looks at you, smirks. Lee Know: “But if you skip lunch again, I will drag you to the cafeteria myself.” You open your mouth to respond— SLAM. Your locker door swings open. Changbin pops out from behind it like a demon. Changbin: “BOO!” You jump. He cackles. Changbin: “Mission success.” Before you can recover, Hyunjin walks by, headphones in, sketchbook under his arm. He stops right next to you. Hyunjin: “You got scared again?” He gently flicks your forehead. Hyunjin: “Cute.” You blush. Of course he notices. He walks away with a tiny smile. Then, someone tugs your sleeve. Han is holding a chocolate milk. Han: “Take it. I bought two but I drank both. So I bought a third. For you.” Then he whispers— Han: “Also don’t trust Changbin. He’s evil.” Changbin: “I heard that!” Han: “GOOD!” Suddenly— A bright sunshine approaches. Felix beams at you like you’re his favorite person. Felix: “Y/N! I baked cookies again!” He hands you a small bag tied with ribbon. Felix: “Try them and tell me if they’re better than last time, yeah?” Before you even taste it— Seungmin walks by, snatches a cookie, eats it, nods. Seungmin: “Acceptable.” He pats your head. Seungmin: “You’re welcome.” Finally— The last one arrives half-asleep, hoodie up, quiet as ever. I.N yawns.

💅 Tomorrow By Together — "Unfortunately..." Being TXT’s manager was supposed to be a professional job. But no one told her she’d be managing five full-grown children with the combined energy of seven Red Bulls. Good thing she matched their chaos. The moment she walked into the practice room, she was greeted by: Yeonjun yelling into a fan, Taehyun lecturing Beomgyu, Soobin holding a snack hostage, and Hueningkai rolling across the floor like a lost dandelion. She sighed. “You guys have ONE interview today. ONE. Why do you look like the Avengers after losing a fight?” Yeonjun: “We didn’t lose. We were simply… emotionally defeated.” Beomgyu: “HE MADE ME DO PUSH-UPS FOR BREATH CONTROL!” He pointed at Taehyun like he’d committed a crime. Taehyun shrugged. “Lungs of steel don’t come free.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. Everyone up. Snacks down. Beomgyu—stop pretending to faint.” Soobin coughed. “I think we need a break…” She stared at him. “You JUST arrived.” Hueningkai suddenly jumped up, eyes sparkling. “Manager-nim, can we get ice cream?” Yeonjun gasped dramatically. “Oh my gosh, yes! Let’s go! ALL OF US!” She crossed her arms. “No. If you’re late again, the company will turn ME into dust.” Beomgyu threw himself onto the couch. “A tragic fate… gone too soon… she only wanted mint chocolate.” She kicked his leg lightly. “Get up, Shakespeare.” At the interview set The staff looked stressed. TXT looked like trouble. She looked like she already regretted her life choices. As the boys prepared, she clapped loudly: “Okay! For the love of every deadline, act NORMAL.” “We are normal,” Taehyun said with a straight face. Five seconds later Yeonjun tried to balance a mic on his head. She snatched it away. “No.” Beomgyu tried to steal Hueningkai’s snacks. “No.” Soobin attempted to disappear behind a plant. “SOOBIN. Get out of the bushes!” The staff watched in awe. “Wow… she’s the only one who can control them.”

"𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡." The dorm was unusually calm. Practice had ended hours ago. Everyone had collapsed somewhere in the living room, exhausted. "Kitchen duty." The words had barely left Chan's mouth before everyone pointed. You. And Minho. "Cooking duo!" Han cheered. "Again?" you groaned. "Again," Seungmin nodded. "Fate," Jeongin added dramatically. So now you were in the kitchen. Side by side. Cutting vegetables. Stirring pots. Acting completely normal. Like the two of you weren't dating. Because that was your thing. You weren't very affectionate around the members. Minho endured it. Usually. Until tonight. The knife in your hand paused when you felt someone staring. You glanced sideways. Minho looking directly at you. "What?" you asked. He sighed. Long. Dramatic. "Jagiya." You nearly dropped the spoon. "Minho!" "What?" "You can't just—" "I've had enough." "…Enough of what?" He put the spatula down. Turned toward you. "Enough of pretending." Your eyes widened. "The members are literally right there." "They're always there. That's true." "Exactly." Before you could react— Minho stepped closer. "Do you know," he said calmly, "that you haven't looked at me properly all day?" You blinked. "What?" "You heard me." "Minho, we've been together since practice." "Not the point." "Then what is the point?" "The point, is that I missed you." You stared. "...You saw me twenty minutes ago." "I know. I still missed you." From the living room— Han's unmistakable whisper: "HE'S BEING CUTE." "Shut up," Minho called. Silence. Felix laughed. "You said that way too fast, hyung." Minho ignored them completely. Which was worse. He rested his chin on your shoulder. Just like that. Without warning. "Minho." "Hm?" "The members." "Hm." "Not helping." "Hm." You turned your head. He wasn't even pretending to care anymore. "You're clingy." "No." "You're literally attached to me." "Correct." "That's not a denial." "I know." Giggles heard from the living room. "Look at him." "Completely gone."

"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐈 𝐑𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭." You’ve known for years. It wasn’t one big reveal. Just… small things. Too many to ignore. The way his skin caught sunlight—not burned, but glowed. The way he’d go quiet around crowded places. Hidden, but not well enough. And the nosebleeds. “You’re doing it again.” You stood in his kitchen, arms crossed, watching him leaned over the sink, one hand pressed under his nose. “I’m fine,” Ni-ki muttered. “You’re literally bleeding.” “It’s nothing.” “You say that every time.” You grabbed a tissue and shoved it into his hand. “Hold it properly,” you said. He rolled his eyes—but listened. “…You’ve been skipping again, You’re gonna pass out one day.” He glanced at you, a smirk tugging at his lips despite everything. “You’d catch me.” • Later — Dinner Table You picked at your food, casually pushing a piece of garlic to the side of his plate. Ni-ki watched you. “…You didn’t have to do that.” “I know.” “Then why do you always?” You shrugged. “Habit.” He looked at you a little too long. You ignored it. “Careful,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Keep treating me like this and I might actually bite you one day.” You snorted. “You’ve been saying that for years.” You leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Then do it.” He froze. Then scoffed. “Not funny.” “I’m serious.” “You don’t know what you’re saying.” “I do,” you said calmly. “You won’t.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “…And you’re so sure?” You smiled. “Because you’ve had years.” A beat. Then— “You’d rather starve than hurt me.” That landed. Too true. He looked away first. “…You’re annoying.” • Night — His Apartment You stood in front of his fridge. Staring at the blood bags like it was the most normal thing in the world. “You’re in my fridge,” Ni-ki said from behind you. You closed the fridge and turned to him. you just looked at each other. “You never asked,” he said suddenly. “About what?”

"𝐈 𝐔𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐞 𝐀 𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐧." Beomgyu noticed something was wrong before you even said it. It started small. You stood in the kitchen, staring at nothing. Then— “Do you think bread feels lonely?” Beomgyu blinked. “…What?” You nodded seriously. “It looks lonely.” He slowly set down his phone. “Okay… I think we need to talk.” • Later that night. You sat on the couch, unusually quiet. Beomgyu leaned against the armrest. “…You’ve been acting weird all week.” “I’m not weird.” “You cried because I folded a towel wrong.” “That towel had feelings.” He stared. “…No it didn’t.” You sighed dramatically. “Beomgyu.” “…Yeah?” “I’m pregnant.” Silence. Not dramatic silence. processing silence. Then: “…Oh.” Another pause. “…OH.” He stood up too fast. Sat down again. Stood again. “You’re—wait—us? Like… baby us??” “Yes.” “Like tiny human us??” “Yes, Beomgyu.” “…WHY DID YOU SAY IT SO CALM??” • Two hours later. Beomgyu came back holding bags. A lot of bags. You blinked. “…What is that?” “Baby clothes.” “You don’t even know the gender.” “I PANICKED.” You opened one bag. Tiny socks. Another bag. Tiny hats. Another— A plush duck wearing sunglasses. “…Why does it have sunglasses?” “It looked cool.” “That’s not a baby necessity.” “It is emotionally.” • Later that week. He brought home the wrong snack. Just the wrong one. You stared at it. “…You don’t understand me anymore.” Beomgyu panicked. “I bought the EXACT brand you like??” “It’s not the vibe.” “…The vibe??” You turned away dramatically. “I need space.” He whispered to himself: “I’m being emotionally divorced by a snack.” • That night, Beomgyu finally sat beside you quietly. “You okay now?” You nodded. “…I think I want ice cream.” He smiled softly. “Okay.” Then paused. “…What flavor this time?” You thought for a second. “Pickle.” He didn’t even react anymore. Just grabbed his keys. “Say less.” And as he walked out— he muttered:

"𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬." 💍 Jake didn’t leave dramatically. Just— “Hey… I’m going to Korea.” You blinked. “For what?” He scratched the back of his neck, that boyish smile. “Training. Music stuff. Career… I guess.” “Guess?” you frowned. He laughed softly. “Yeah. I don’t really know yet. …I’ll come back though" he added quickly. You just nodded like it was nothing. “Okay.” But after he left. 6 years later— he came back. On Quiet Street, Night “Careful, you’re walking too close to the road.” You blink. “I’m not.” “You are.” “I’m literally not.” “You are" Jake insists, gently pulling you little closer by your sleeve. You stare at him. “…You just wanted an excuse to touch me.” He freezes. Then laughs. “Wow. You got bold.” “I learned while you were gone.” “Clearly.” Silence settles. Comfortable. Familiar. “So…” you glance at him. “Korea, huh.” He nods. “Yeah.” “Six years?” “Yeah.” “That’s crazy.” “Yeah.” You squint at him. “Why do you keep saying ‘yeah’?” Jake laughs, rubbing his neck. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” “Something better.” “Okay…” he thinks for a sec. “I missed you?” You stop walking. He stops too. “…You’re asking or telling?” He smiles softly. “Telling.” your eyes drift down to his hands. “…Your hands changed." you say. Jake looks at them, flexing slightly. “Uh… I hope so?” “They’re… different.” “Good different or weird different?” You hesitate. “…Both.” He grins. “I’ll take it.” Then you notice it. The ring. “What’s that?” you ask. “Oh—this?” he lifts his hand. “Just something from training. Nothing serious.” “Hmm.” Before he can react— you grab his hand. Jake stills. Doesn’t pull away. Just watches you like he always used to—curious. Soft. A little nervous. You slide the ring off. “…You’re stealing now?” he murmurs. “Borrowing.” “Mhm.” And then— you put it on your own finger.

"𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬." 🎭 When the news came— it didn’t arrive loudly. No chaos. Just a door open. And his right-hand man standing there, face too still. “…He’s gone.” That was all. No body. No proof. The room changed. Air thickened. Silence pressed against every wall. Servants froze mid-step. The maid dropped the tray. You didn’t react. At first. Then— you smiled. Small. Broken. “…That’s not funny.” No one spoke. No one dared. Your hand tightened against the table. “…Say it again.” Your voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. “…Boss is dead.” And that’s when you broke. In a way that made everyone look away. Because the untouchable queen of the city— the one who stood beside the most feared man— finally looked… human. In your heart— you didn’t believe it. Months passed. The underworld shifted. Whispers spread like wildfire— Ni-ki is dead. Now she stands alone. Relief bloomed in enemies’ shadows. But they underestimated. You. You ruled like grief had turned into something… dangerous. And somewhere— he watched. Ni-ki. Alive. Every day he stayed away— it tore something out of him. But the thought of you being targeted— You getting hurt because of him was worse. So he stayed gone. For you. Until— he couldn’t anymore. On Street, Evening The city glows under soft lights. You walk alone. No fear in your steps. Ni-ki stands across the street. Hidden. Watching. Like he has been for months.

"𝐈 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞." 🌆 The city didn't stopped it's danger. You told yourself you were just bored & worried. And maybe a little reckless. So you followed him. Minho. Always leaving without explanation. Always returning with silence wrapped too tightly around his shoulders. You trailed him at a distance through narrow streets & dim neon light. He stopped at an alley. Voices inside. You paused. Inside— Minho stood with them. Bang Chan leaned against the wall, calm but alert. Changbin spoke low, arms crossed. Hyunjin twirled a blade absentmindedly. Han was laughing too softly for it to be harmless. Felix watched quietly, golden calm. Seungmin observed everything like he already knew the ending. I.N stood slightly back, young but steady. And Minho— Leaning against the wall like danger was bored of him. Then— A sharp misstep. Your heel twisted on uneven ground. You stumbled. "…Ah—" The silence snapped. Every head turned. Sharp gazes. Instinct. Until— Minho looked at you. Not like a stranger. Like something inside him broke recognition first, before thought. Coldness vanished. Instantly. “...No.” One word. Gone before anyone else could react. He moved. Too fast. The mafia leader who never rushed—was suddenly in front of you. “Are you insane?” he muttered, grabbing your arm gently but firmly. “Why are you here?” You blinked. “I—” But he didn’t wait. His eyes dropped to your ankle. Bruised. He clicked his tongue. Then— he scooped you up. Bridal style. Like you weighed nothing. Like the world outside the alley didn’t exist anymore. Behind him— silence shattered. “Oh my god,” Han whispered. “SISTER-IN-LAW IS REAL.” “BROOO,” Changbin laughed. “HYUNG DIDN’T EVEN SAY HI.” “Cold king down bad" Hyunjin added, amused. Felix smiled softly. “She’s really pretty.” Seungmin tilted his head. “So that’s the weakness.” I.N blinked. “He just ignored all of us.” Bang Chan sighed. “Yeah. That’s Minho.”

"𝘊𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘔𝘦 𝘐𝘧 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘦" 🪶 {𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐗 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧} The city below hums with the aftermath of you. Lights flicker. Sirens stretched. & on the rooftop— you stand at the edge. “Stop running.” Heeseung's voice. You don’t turn. “You always say that,” you reply lightly. Footsteps come behind you. “You crossed a line tonight.” You laugh. “Lines are suggestions.” “Not when people get hurt.” You tilt your head slightly. “And yet… here you are. Talking to me instead of saving them.” Then—closer. “You’re not the villain you pretend to be.” You finally turn. “That’s your problem, Heeseung,” you said. “You believe things you shouldn’t.” His gaze doesn’t waver. “And you test things you already know.” Ur smile sharpens. “Do I?” You step back. Closer to the edge. “Answer me something,” you say, eyes locked on his. “If I fall—” “Don’t" he cuts in immediately. You ignore it. “—would you catch me?” His jaw tightens. “No.” The word hits harder than it should. You blink. “…No?” “I’m not playing this game,” his voice firm. “You have wings. Use them.” Then you laugh. “Liar.” “I’m serious.” “Yeah?” you murmur, stepping even closer to the edge. “Then prove it.” “I don’t have to.” “You do,” you whisper. Because if he doesn’t— then everything you felt… means nothing. He doesn’t move closer. He just stands there. Your heart twists. “Fine,” you say quietly. And before he can say another word— you let yourself fall. The world drops. You don’t open your wings. You don’t try. Because he said no. nothing. Then— a violent gust. and suddenly— arms. Wings. Him. Heeseung. His wings burst open, strong and bright as he catches you mid-fall, pulling you against him. “You’re unbelievable,” he snaps, voice rough. You stare at him. “You said you wouldn’t.” “I said I wouldn’t play your game, That doesn’t mean I’d let you fall.” “Then what was that?” you whisper. “Trust,” he says. “Something you clearly don’t have.”

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘋𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘔𝘦" 🎑 Jake — Prince of Emberfire 🔥 Sunghoon — Ice Prince of Frostveil ❄️ Jungwon — Prince of Aetherwind 🌬️ Ni-ki — Prince of Shadowflame 🌑🔥 fire that burns in darkness And you— The Princess of Lunaris Tide 🌙🌊 Power drawn from moonlight and water. The ball glittered like a sky down to earth. You hadn’t seen them in years. Childhood friends—now rulers. When you stepped into the hall, everything felt… distant. Until— Him. Ni-ki stood across the room. Taller. Sharper. Dangerous in a way that wasn’t loud—just there. His eyes found yours. And something— shifted. “Hey,” Jake’s voice broke the moment, appearing beside you with his usual warmth. “Still disappearing into crowds?” You smiled. “Still finding me?” “Always,” he grinned. Soon, all of you gathered again— laughing, pretending nothing had changed. “Let’s get out of here,” Sunghoon muttered, adjusting his cuffs. “Too crowded.” “Garden?” Jungwon suggested. And you all slipped away. Outside, the night breathed easier. Moonlight spilled across the garden, your element responding instantly—soft ripples in the fountain, glowing faintly. Jake lit a small flame in his palm, absentmindedly playing with it. Sunghoon leaned against a marble pillar, frost forming where his fingers brushed. Ni-ki stayed quiet. “You’ve gotten stronger,” Jungwon said to you gently. “So have you,” you replied. “You feel different,” Sunghoon added. Before you could answer— Ni-ki spoke. “You’re calmer.” His voice was low. You turned. “And you’re not,” you replied. A pause. Jake choked back a laugh. “Oh this is new.” Ni-ki stepped closer—not threatening. Not soft either. Just… drawn. “Still observant,” he said. “Still hiding things,” you countered. Shadow flickered at his fingertips. Water stirred at yours. The air tightened. “Are they… fighting?” Jake whispered. “No,” Jungwon said quietly. Sunghoon’s gaze sharpened. “…That’s worse.”

“𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘵.” {Requested by: •ni-ki's wife•} The kitchen is loud. Not messy—just alive. Music playing. Someone laughing too hard. Someone definitely not helping. You’re at the counter, trying to follow a recipe that’s already losing the battle. “Wait—does this go in now or later?” you mumble. From behind you— “Later.” You don’t turn. “…You sure?” Ni-ki steps beside you, casual, like he’s always been there. “Yeah. Unless you want to ruin it.” You scoff. “Wow. Encouraging.” From the table, Heeseung looks up, amused. “He’s been watching you for like five minutes. Of course he knows.” Ni-ki doesn’t deny it. “Ni-ki,” Jay adds, arms crossed, “this is why she doesn’t trust your instructions.” “Because he sounds bossy?” Jake grins. “Or because he only helps her?” Ni-ki just clicks his tongue. “Shut up and set the table.” Sunghoon leans against the counter, watching carefully. “…He didn’t say no.” Sunoo gasps softly. “Ohhh, this is interesting.” In the corner, Jungwon just shakes his head, smiling like he’s seen this coming for months. You try again— measuring, pouring, focusing. Ni-ki steps closer. “Too much,” he mutters. “I didn’t even—” His hand covers yours. Stops you mid-motion. “Now you did,” he says quietly. Your breath stutters. “Let me,” he adds, softer. He adjusts your grip, guiding your hand—not rushed. Precious. Too familiar. Behind you— “OH MY GOD.” Sunoo clutches Jake’s arm. “LOOK AT THEM.” Jake is already grinning. “This is so obvious.” Jay sighs. “I told you.” Heeseung laughs under his breath. “Ni-ki doesn’t even realize it.” “Realize what?” Ni-ki shoots back without looking. “That you’re glued to her,” Sunghoon says simply.

“𝘚𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘊𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘴 𝘖𝘧 𝘠𝘰𝘶" { Requested by: Cummmm..? } The bell above the bakery door jingles like it’s announcing your arrival—every. single. morning. You’ve been coming here for weeks now. Not because you need the pastries… but because of him. Hyunjin. He’s behind the counter, hair messy in that charming way, flour dusting his apron and fingers, humming softly to himself. The way he smiles when a customer compliments the croissants—it’s like sunlight leaking into the shop. You clear your throat. “Morning.” “Morning!” he says, voice bright, and for a moment, he looks at you like you’re the only person in the bakery. Your chest flutters. You pick your usual: a chocolate almond croissant and a small latte. He grabs them with a hand that brushes yours just slightly. You try not to notice. “Trying to finish that report again?” he teases, nodding at the laptop you’ve carried in every morning. “I… uh, yeah,” you mumble, cheeks warm. He grins, leaning closer over the counter. “Careful—you’ll burn out if you don’t take breaks. Want me to save you a croissant for later?” Your heart does that stupid, unpredictable flip. “Maybe…” you whisper. “You know,” he says, scooping your latte, “if you keep coming here just for me, I might start charging you interest.” You laugh. “I think I can pay in smiles.” Hyunjin smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Fair enough. But only if I get a smile every day.” As he slides the tray across, your fingers brush again. Sparks—or maybe sugar dust—lingers.

"Blood Moon at the Mansion — The One Who Stayed Soft” The gate opens with a quiet creak— The mansion stands just as you left it. You drag your suitcase inside. “Grandma?” you call. & Step further in— —and someone clears his throat. A boy stands near the window. Light catching in his eyes that feels too sharp. Heeseung. “…Oh,” he says, almost like he wasn’t expecting you to be real. Before you can speak— “HYUNG—WHO IS THAT?” Sunoo pops out, eyes wide with curiosity. Behind him, Jay folds his arms, scanning you like a puzzle. “…Did we miss something?” he mutters. Jake peeks out, offering a soft, awkward smile. “Hi…” Footsteps descend. Slow. Controlled. Sunghoon appears, gaze unreadable as winter glass. And then—another presence. Quieter. Steadier. Jungwon. His eyes flick from them… to you. Not startled or suspicious. Just… observant. From the kitchen— Ni-ki strolls in, chewing lazily—then stops mid-step. “…Why does she smell like home?” The room stills. You tighten your grip on your suitcase. “…Why are there seven men–” Right on cue— “She’s here already?” Your grandmother appears, smiling as if nothing is strange. “My child.” You rush into her arms. Then pull back immediately. “Grandma—WHY are there seven men here?” She laughs softly. “Lost boys,” she says. “I couldn’t turn them away.” You look back at them. They don’t look lost. They look… too composed. Dinner is… strange. They barely eat. Garlic sits untouched. Their eyes linger too long, too quietly. You try to ignore it. Try to act normal. Try not to notice how Jungwon keeps glancing at you— not staring. Just checking. And slowly— you begin to fit again. Sunoo grows comfortable first— Cheerful. Jake follows— soft. Jay warms up slower. Sunghoon remains distant— not unkind. Heeseung watches everything quietly. Ni-ki lingers. Close sometimes. And Jungwon stays… constant. One evening, you cut your finger while helping in the kitchen. The air shifts.

"𝘌𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘦" 💔 When you were children, people used to joke that you and Hyunjin should be together by now. Your fathers were best friends. Your houses a short walk apart. You grew together. When you were 17, the night he left felt too quiet. Suitcases. His parents smiling. Hyunjin tried to look happy. But when he hugged you goodbye, his shoulders shook. “I’ll come back,” he said into your hair. Then he pulled away quickly. “Wait for me.” And then he left. Eight years passed. At first there were calls. Messages. Then business grew. His name appeared in articles. Successful. And the space between you two stretched painful. Until Hyunjin returned at 26. “He’s back.” “He’s richer now.” You heard it all. You didn't face him. Because if he wanted to know how it felt— He would. For days your name came up in every talk. “She works late now.” “She still takes care of your parents.” Hyunjin listened to every detail. He imagined your laugh. Your hair. Your eyes. But imagining wasn’t the same as seeing. And it slowly started driving him insane. Then one evening you went to his house. Like always. His parents welcomed you warmly. You though Hyunjin was out working. So you walked through the hallway comfortably. Until a voice behind you said quietly— “You’re good at avoiding me.” Your heart dropped. You turned. Hyunjin Taller. Broader. Older in every ways. But those eyes—the same. You froze. You stepped back, turning quickly toward the door. But Hyunjin moved faster. His hand caught your wrist. The next second your back hit the wall softly. One arm braced beside your head. Enough to stop you. His breath came out uneven. “You ran every time,” he said quietly. “Eight years I waited,” you shot back. Silence. Hyunjin’s eyes searched your face like someone starving. “You wouldn’t even look at me.” You lifted your chin. “You didn’t look back either.” His grip loosened slightly. “I thought you forgot me" “Forget you? You were everywhere but here"

“Streetlights & Soft Confessions.” { Requested by: ہH9UNT3D--D3V1Nہ } You, Hyunjin, and Kkami. No managers. No members. No noise. Just the city breathing slow. Kkami trots ahead proudly, tiny paws tapping against the pavement like she owns the block. Hyunjin holds the leash loosely, hoodie up, hands half-hidden in the sleeves. “Isn’t it weird?” he mutters. “What?” “How different the world feels at night.” You glance around. Closed shops. Flickering convenience store sign. A distant car passing like a whisper. “It feels honest,” you say. He hums. “Yeah. Like it’s not trying to impress anyone.” You side-eye him. “You talking about the city or yourself?” He bumps his shoulder into yours lightly. “Don’t start.” But he’s smiling. Kkami suddenly stops to sniff something suspiciously dramatic. Hyunjin crouches instantly, cooing. “Princess, what did you find? Is it treasure? Is it danger?” You fold your arms. “You don’t talk to me like that.” He looks up at you with mock offense. “You don’t require baby voice protection.” “Wow.” “You require emotional supervision,” he corrects. You gasp. “Excuse me?” He stands, stepping closer just to tease. “You wander off in your head too much.” The wind picks up. It’s cooler than you expected. Without saying anything, he tugs one side of his hoodie sleeve over your hand for warmth. Casual. Like it’s nothing. Like it’s everything. “You know,” he says quietly, eyes on the road ahead, “I like this version of us.” “Which one?” “The one where I’m not performing. And you’re not pretending you’re fine.” That hits softer than the breeze. Kkami tugs forward again, determined as ever. You laugh. “She’s leading us.” Hyunjin glances at you. “Maybe she knows we’d just stand here overthinking forever.” You start walking again, steps syncing without effort. A group of strangers passes by. Hyunjin subtly shifts so he’s walking closer to the street side. Protective, but not obvious about it.

“Top of the Class, Bottom of His Guard.” { Requested by: HEESEUNGNI-KI } Everyone knows Jake. Golden grades. Perfect attendance. Parents use him as an example at dinner tables. He walks the hallway like he belongs in a university brochure. But that day? He was cornered. 3 boys. Laughing. Mocking. His neat hair. His too-polite silence. Jake didn’t fight. He never fights. Then a voice cut through like a match striking in the dark. “Pick someone your size.” You. The troublemaker. Detention regular. Sleeves rolled up. The kind teachers sigh about. The kind rumors chase. You didn’t hesitate. Just stepped between him and the storm. The bullies backed off. Not because you were bigger — but because you were fearless. Jake stared at you like the world tilted. “Are you okay, genius?” you asked, brushing dust off his blazer. He nodded. “Thank you.” You shrugged. “You looked like you needed backup.” And then you walked away like it was nothing. — After that, he noticed everything. How you argued with teachers but helped first-years find their classrooms. How you pretended not to care but always stayed behind when someone needed help. He started sitting near you in the library. “Is this seat taken?” he’d ask, polite like always. You’d squint at him. “You’re too shiny for this side of campus.” He’d laugh softly. “Maybe I want to be less shiny.” You began stealing his fries at lunch. He fixed your tie before presentations. The whole school saw it. “The golden boy and the delinquent?” people whispered. Jake didn’t care. Because when you fell asleep on your folded arms during study hall, he’d gently drape his blazer over you. Because when he panicked before a big competition, you’d tap his shoulder and say, “You’re Jake. You don’t lose.” And he believed you more than he believed himself.

“Salt, Sugar… and You.” 🧂 { Requested by: Kim-yun-jo } The kitchen is warm. Not just from the stove — from nine years of breathing the same air. You’re at the counter, chopping vegetables. Seungmin leans against the fridge, arms crossed. Watching. “Are you sure that’s how you cut it?” he says, voice calm. Suspiciously. You don’t even look at him. “I’ve lived with you eight idiots for almost nine years. I can cut carrots.” From the living room: “Yah!” Bang Chan shouts. “Don’t drag us into this!” Lee Know peeks in. “If she’s cooking, we’re surviving. If Seungmin’s cooking, we’re critiquing.” “Hyung.” Seungmin’s tone is warning. Changbin slides dramatically across the floor. “What are we eating? Love? Betrayal? Overcooked rice?” “Protein,” Hyunjin sighs from the couch. “Please let it be protein.” Han pops his head over the counter. “Why is it so tense? Did someone confess?” You throw a towel at him. In the corner, Felix is already setting the table sweetly like the angel he is. And Jeongin? Standing next to Seungmin, whispering loudly, “Hyung, you’re staring.” Seungmin blinks. “I am not.” You turn. He immediately looks at the ceiling. The room erupts. “OOOOOOH.” You narrow your eyes. “Seungmin.” He clears his throat and walks toward you. Calm. Collected. As if seven gremlins aren’t screaming behind him. He reaches past you for the salt. But instead of pulling away, he stays there. Close. “Too much salt ruins the whole thing,” he murmurs, low enough only for you. “Balance matters.” Your heartbeat fasten. “Are you… talking about the food?” He looks at you finally. Soft. Not teasing. Not sarcastic. “Depends. Are you listening?” Behind you: “THIS IS DISGUSTINGLY MARRIED,” Changbin yells. Lee Know claps once. “Divorce arc next episode.” Bang Chan is recording. Hyunjin is pretending he’s not invested. Han is fully invested. Felix is smiling. Jeongin is just grinning like he knew all along.

"I'd Drown For You" 🌊 { Husband !! } The mansion shined. Relatives laughed too loudly. Leeknow stood among his uncles and cousins, one hand resting lazily in his pocket. His suit sharp. His expression calm. But his eyes— they kept finding you. You stood near the pool. He looked away before anyone noticed. Then— Yuna approached. His Childhood cousin. She stopped in front of you, heels clicking against marble. “You look comfortable,” she said sweetly. “I am,” you answered, gently. She tilted her head. “You know… everyone thought Leeknow and I would end up together.” You smiled politely. “That must’ve been awkward for him.” Her jaw tightened. “You think marriage means you won?” she asked softly. Across the lawn, Leeknow's chest tightened. Instinct. He glanced over. He saw Yuna. Her hand brushing your arm. He excused himself immediately. “Give me a moment.” He started walking toward you. But it happened. Yuna leaned closer. “You don’t belong here.” And then— A sudden shove. Your heel slipped on the wet edge of pool. Cold water swallowed you whole. — The splash echoed. Leeknow froze. The sight of water closing over you — it hit his fear. He hated deep water. But you were under. And fear didn’t matter. He ran. Without hesitation— He jumped. The water swallowed him too. He saw you. Your dress floating. Your body struggling. He reached you fast, grabbing your waist. Desperate, panic wash over him. They broke the surface together. He tightened his hold around you as your body went limp. “Hey—hey. Stay with me.” Your head rest against his shoulder. Something inside him snapped. The moment his feet hit the ground, he embrace you fully into his arms. Water soaked through his clothes But his eyes were only on you. “Open your eyes,” he whispered, shaking you gently. He lifted you in bridal style Guests gasped behind him Whispers rose Yuna stood frozen He didn’t look back. He carried you straight into the mansion, the guest room He laid you carefully

🩸 "Soaked Wet In Love". <(Enemies-to-Lovers → Mafia)> { Requested by: cupcake 😊💝💖💝💖💗❤️🖤 } Rain fell like bullets on the empty alley, mixing with the neon reflections of the city lights. You crouched behind a dumpster, gun trembling in your hands, soaked through, heart pounding like a drum. You heard the faintest click of boots on wet concrete. And there he was. Hyunjin. Your rival, your enemy, the son of the most feared mafia in the city. Hyunjin: “You really don’t learn, huh?” He stepped out from the shadows, black coat clinging to his body, eyes locked on you like a predator… and somehow… like someone who’d been waiting. Your gun wavered. You: “Stay back!” He tilted his head, amused, wet strands of hair falling into his stormy eyes. Hyunjin: “Or what? You’ll shoot me?” Before you could react, he lunged. Too fast. He twisted your wrist, forcing the gun to drop with a wet clang onto the alley’s puddled floor. You struggled. You: “Hyunjin! Let go!” His other hand pressed firmly against the wall behind you, pinning you in place. Rain soaked your hair, face, cloths, but his grip… burning and intense. Hyunjin: “Stop struggling.” Your chest heaved, not from the struggle, but from how close he was. His gaze pierced through the rain, cold and deadly, yet something… softer flickered behind it. He leaned closer, voice low, teasing, dangerous: Hyunjin: “Every time I try to hate you…I end up wanting more.” You swallowed, chest tight, storm raging outside and inside. You: “Hyunjin… we can’t—” Hyunjin: “We already did.” A drop of rain slid down your cheek, and he brushed it away with a thumb that lingered too long.

“He Plays With My Nerves” You were trained to survive rooms like this. Armed guards. Silence that cost more than lives. Mr. Nishimura wanted a bodyguard for his son. Your father wanted an opening into the family. So he sent you. His only daughter. His sharpest weapon. You applied like it meant nothing. Passed every test like you weren’t walking into your own funeral. And somehow— you got selected. Ni-ki was not what you expected. Too tall. Too reckless. A grin that felt like a challenge, eyes that never stayed still. “You’re my bodyguard?” he said the first day, head tilted, amused. “You look like you’d quit in a week.” You replied without missing a beat. “And you look like you need a babysitter.” He laughed. Loud. Unapologetic. From that day on, He tested you constantly— disappearing without warning, sneaking out at night, provoking fights just to see if you’d react. “You’re annoying,” you muttered once, dragging him out of a club by the collar. “Brat.” He froze. Then smiled. “You’re the only one who talks to me like that.” Somehow, you were also the only one he listened to. You handled his tantrums, Recklessness. And somewhere between guarding doors, shouting matches and shared silence— you fell. A problem. Because you were never meant to survive this. You were meant to Report. So one night, exhausted and reckless, you decided to end it your way. You told him. Casually. Almost bored. “You know I’m your enemy’s daughter, right?” A pause. “My father sent me. I was never supposed to protect you.” He didn’t move. You laughed weakly. “And I think I accidentally fell in love with you. Funny, huh?” Silence stretched. This was it, you thought. Death by honesty. Then Ni-ki exhaled. “…That’s all?” You blinked. “What?” He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, eyes dark with something unreadable. “I knew from the start.” Your heart slammed. “My father had you investigated. So did I, You didn’t hide it well.” "Then why keep me?"

Kidnaped/Hostage Turn Into Crime Partners 🪾 You were never poor. But gold gates can still be cages. Your father’s name made people bow. Your father’s rules made 𝘺𝘰𝘶 disappear. And your gift, the one no one knew about— You could read minds with a touch. Skin to skin, truth spilled whether you wanted it or not. So you learned not to touch. Until the night a black car swallowed you whole. Cold metal cuffs. The smell of leather and rain. “You stay quiet, this ends clean,” a voice, Flat. Controlled. Not cruel just distant. Leeknow. He didn’t shout. Didn’t threaten. That was the first strange thing. In the car, your wrists ache against the cuffs. At a turn, the car jerks slightly— and his hand brushes yours as he steadies the wheel. Just a second. That’s all it takes. Your breath catches. Because his thoughts don’t scream greed or violence. They’re… tired. 𝘎𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺, 𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘺. Why does she look relieved instead of scared? “You’re not a bad person,” you say softly. He stiffens. Eyes flick to you in the mirror. “Don’t talk,” he replies. Minutes pass. “You’re doing this for money, Not because you want to hurt me.” You add. Silence. Then, quieter than before— “…You should be scared.” You laugh under your breath. “I’m more scared of my father.” That gets his attention. You tell him then. About trackers sewn into luxury. About how freedom never belonged to you. As you speak, your fingers slide to your watch. Careful. You drop it out the window. The tracker crashes. Leeknow notices—but doesn’t stop you. Instead, he exhales. Long. Heavy. “…You’re not worth the trouble,” he mutters. Almost… protective. He takes you somewhere quiet. A safe house. “Stay,” he says. “I need to think.” Hours later, he comes back with bags. You blink. “…What’s this?” “Clothes,” he says, avoiding your eyes. “And—uh—things.” You look inside. Feminine things. Carefully chosen. Awkwardly precise. Your chest tightens

"Older, Just A Little Bit Colder" 🗓️ The bell rings. Freedom—for exactly three seconds. Chan is already halfway out the door. “Rooftop,” he says, like it’s a secret mission. Felix grins. “I brought snacks.” Han cheers. “I brought no shame.” You follow them up the stairs, laughter echoing, shoes pounding like you’re doing something illegal (you kind of are). The rooftop door creaks open, sunlight spilling in, wind tugging at loose ties and hair. Hyunjin stretches dramatically. “Ah yes. Truants with taste.” Changbin plops down near the fence. “If we get caught, I blame Minho.” Leeknow clicks his tongue. “Why is it always me?” You sit on the edge, legs dangling, city buzzing far below. This place feels quieter. Higher. Like problems don’t climb this far. Seungmin nudges you with his shoulder. “So,” he says casually, “you like someone older, right?” You choke. “WHY is everyone obsessed with this?” Felix gasps. “SOMEONE COLDER TOO?” Han points slowly—very obviously—at Leeknow. Leeknow rolls his eyes. “You guys are idiots.” But he moves closer anyway, sitting beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost touch. Almost. The wind blows harder. You shiver without meaning to. “Cold?” Leeknow asks, already shrugging off his jacket. “I didn’t say—” Too late. The jacket lands on your shoulders. Hyunjin squeals. “THE ROMANCE.” “I’m leaving,” Changbin mutters. “I didn’t sign up for this.” Leeknow glares at them. “Say one more word and I push you off.” Chan raises an eyebrow. “Minho.” “Figuratively,” Leeknow adds. “Relax.” You laugh, pulling the jacket tighter. It smells like laundry soap and something familiar—safe. “Thanks,” you say quietly. He shrugs, eyes fixed on the horizon. “Don’t read into it.” You glance at him. “You’re bad at pretending not to care.” He looks back then. Expression cool. Voice flat. “You’re bad at pretending you don’t notice.”

“Marked for Jealousy” 💄 (Requested: {|<[Sun×Moon]>|} ) The mansion was quiet, almost too quiet. You had been planning this for hours—Sunghoon never came home this early, and yet here he was, keys in the door, footsteps echoing. Perfect timing. You quickly dabbed the last red lipstick mark—one on your thr-oat, another near the colla-rbone. Just enough for him to notice, not enough for it to be obvious. You hid behind the curtain in the living room, smirking, phone in hand to capture any reaction. The door clicked open. “Home early…” your voice trailed off playfully as you stepped into the hallway. Sunghoon froze. Eyes narrowed. You tilted your head innocently. “What?” He didn’t move immediately. Instead, he scanned you slowly, like a predator who finally caught sight of his prey. “You… what is this?” His voice was calm, but the sharpness underneath made your stomach flutter. You leaned casually against the wall, letting him see the marks, pretending not to notice. “Marks?” you asked innocently. “I—uh… maybe I tripped?” Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. His hand hovered at his side for a second, then he stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “Someone touc-hed you?” he asked lowly, voice even, dangerous. You almost burst laughing. “No! I—uh—I… applied… um… makeup?” He didn’t smile. Not yet. Instead, his hand rested lightly on your hi-p. Closer. Anchoring. Protective. “You’re lying,” he said simply, eyes boring into yours. “Tell me who.” You bit back a giggle, covering your lips with your hand. “I… didn’t… I swear, no one touched me!” Sunghoon’s gaze softened slightly, but the protectiveness didn’t leave. His hand slid to brush over the marks as if checking, as if he could erase them with a touch. “You’re mine,” he muttered quietly, almost to himself, “and no one else touches you. Not today. Not ever.” You laughed then, light and teasing. “Relax, hubby. Just a little prank.”

“The Way He Looks When No One Notices”💐 { Requested this ver by: :>>🐈🧸🦊 } The kitchen smells like something might be burning. No one knows what. No one is worried. You’re standing by the counter, reading a recipe on your phone like it’s law. “I swear it said two spoons,” you mutter. “Two tiny spoons,” Jeongin corrects, popping up beside you out of nowhere, grin wide, eyes sparkling with mischief. You blink. “When did you get here?” “I live here?” he says, offended. “Nine years. Remember?” Changbin snorts from behind you. “Careful. He’s been glued to her side all day.” Jeongin gasps dramatically. “Hyung! I’m just helping!” Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “You don’t help. You distract.” Jeongin ignores him completely and leans closer to you, reading the screen. “Ohhh, no wonder. You skipped a step.” You squint. “I did not.” He reaches around you to grab the seasoning— accidentally-on-purpose brushing your arm. Felix’s voice sings instantly. “INNIEEEEEEEE~ that was smooth.” Jeongin freezes. “…I didn’t do anything.” Hyunjin grins. “You didn’t move away either.” Chan sighs fondly. “Can we focus? We’re supposed to eat this.” Han suddenly points. “WAIT. Why is Jeongin smiling like that?” Everyone looks. Jeongin is smiling. Soft. Unfiltered. The kind he forgets to hide. You notice too. “What?” you ask. He shrugs, ears turning red. “Nothing. You’re just… doing great.” The teasing EXPLODES. Changbin clutches his chest. “COMPLIMENT? FROM THE MAKNAE??” Seungmin deadpans. “Mark the calendar.” Felix claps. “I ship it.” Jeongin groans. “Why does everyone ship her with me?” Leeknow, passing by with a plate, smirks. “Because you act suspicious.” Jeongin pouts. “I’m just comfortable with her.” You smile softly. “So am I.” That shuts him up. Completely.

“Where Danger Felt Like Home” ⚠️ { Requested:⋆⁺₊⋆☽︎𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲☾⋆⁺₊⋆ } She grew up wrapped in luxury—Famous. Rich. Untouchable to the world. But not to her father. Power made him paranoid. Enemies followed him like shadows, and the thing he loved most— his only daughter—became his greatest weakness. So he did what powerful men always do when fear whispers too loudly. He hired 8 bodyguards. Handpicked. Young. Skilled. Dangerous. Bang Chan. Lee Know. Changbin. Hyunjin. Han. Felix. Seungmin. Jeongin. What he didn’t know— They weren’t just guards. They were sons of his enemies. They were sent to watch her. The plan was simple: Protect her publicly. Destroy her father quietly. But then—She returned. Months away. Older. Brighter. Softer in places they didn’t expect. Laughter filling hallways. → It was late. Rain tapped against the windows, the mansion quiet. You sat curled on the couch. 8 pairs of footsteps lingered nearby—never too far. You: “You know… you don’t all have to stare like I’ll disappear.” Bang Chan chuckled softly. Chan: “Occupational hazard.” You: “Is ‘breathing’ also optional for bodyguards?” Changbin snorted. Changbin: “She’s got jokes now.” You: “I’ve always had jokes. You were just too scary to notice.” Hyunjin tilted his head, eyes gentle. Hyunjin: “Are we… less scary now?” You looked around. At Felix leaning against the wall, smiling without thinking. Han sprawled dramatically on the chair, pretending not to watch you. Lee Know pretending not to care while caring the most. Seungmin observing like this moment was a puzzle. Jeongin trying very hard to look professional and failing.

“Blood Moon at the Mansion” The gate opens with a familiar sound. The mansion hasn’t changed. Same old stone steps, quiet garden. You drag your suitcase inside, heart oddly heavy. “Grandma?” you call. No answer. You step into the living room— —and someone clears his throat. You freeze. A boy is standing near the window. Tall. Calm. Eyes sharp but kind. Heeseung. He blinks. “…Oh.” Before either of you can say anything— “HYUNG—WHO IS THAT?” Sunoo pops out from the hallway, eyes wide. Immediately followed by Jay, who looks you up and down like he’s assessing a situation. “…Did Grandma forget to tell us something?” Jay mutters. Jake peeks out from behind Jay, smiling awkwardly. “Uh—hi?” Footsteps from the stairs. Sunghoon descends slowly, hands in pockets, gaze unreadable. Behind him, Jungwon appears, alert, eyes flicking between everyone. And then— Ni-ki strolls out from the kitchen, chewing on something, stops mid-step. “…Why does she smell like home?” Silence. You tighten your grip on your suitcase. “…Why are there seven men living with my grandmother?” Before anyone can answer— “She’s here already?” Your grandmother appears from the kitchen, smiling softly, completely unbothered. “My child, You’re home.” You rush to her, hugging her tight. “Grandma,” you whisper, relieved—then immediately pull back. “WHY are there seven men in this house?” She laughs gently. “They came after you left for abroad,” she explains. “Lost boys. I couldn’t turn them away.” Sunghoon bows politely. “We owe her our lives.” Jake nods. “She took care of us. All of us." Ni-ki just watches you. Too quietly. You scan their faces. Something feels… off. Not dangerous. Too still. The way their eyes reflect the light—just a little too sharply. Jungwon notices your stare and quickly looks away. Jay clears his throat. “So… you’re the girl she always talks about.” “The one who lived here before,” Heeseung adds softly. Your grandmother smiles.

🌟 “Golden Hour Boy” <{Image requested by: {|<[Sun×Moon]>|} }> (Boyfriend!!) Jake has this way of showing up quietly. No big entrances. Just warmth. You’re sitting on the couch, le-gs tucked under you, scrolling mindlessly when he drops beside you—close enough that your shoulders touch. “Whatcha doing?” he asks, voice light, curious like he genuinely cares. You shrug. “Nothing.” He hums, unconvinced. “Nothing looks serious on you.” Before you can reply, he reaches out, lacing his fingers with yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world. No hesitation. No drama. Just us. “You know,” he says softly, eyes on your hands, “my day’s always better when I end it like this.” You glance at him. He’s already looking at you—smiling that soft, boyish smile that feels like sunshine through curtains. “You say that a lot,” you tease. “Because it’s true,” he answers immediately. Then, quieter— “I like taking care of you.”

📋 “Of Chalk Dust and Stray Kids” {Requested: hyunjinisafineshyt} Positions: Bang Chan — Music Teacher 🎼 Lee Know — Biology Teacher 🧬 Changbin — Gym / P.E. Teacher 🏋️‍♂️ Hyunjin — Art Teacher 🎨 Han — Literature / Creative Writing Teacher 📖 Felix — Home Economics / Baking Teacher 🍪 Seungmin — English Teacher ✏️ I.N — Math Teacher ➗ → The staff room door creaks open. Eight pairs of eyes lift— some curious, some judgmental, some already planning chaos. Bang Chan is the first to smile. Warm. Welcoming. “Oh—hi. You must be the new teacher.” You nod, a little nervous. “Physics.” There’s a beat. Then— Changbin nearly chokes on his protein shake. “PHYSICS?? Like… numbers?? Equations??” Han looks personally attacked. “Why would you choose violence as a career?” Seungmin adjusts his glasses slowly. “So you’re the one replacing Mr. Kim. Bold choice.” Lee Know just looks at you. Long. Quiet. Calculating. “…You don’t look like you enjoy suffering,” he says. Hyunjin tilts his head, eyes sparkling. “Physics is art too, if you think about it.” Felix gasps. “Really?? I hated physics. Maybe I’ll like it now!” I.N smiles politely. “I’ll warn my students in advance.” You laugh despite yourself. Chan steps in gently. “Don’t worry. They’re loud, but harmless.” Changbin slaps the table. “EXCUSE YOU—” Later that day. The bell rings. You walk into your classroom, chalk in hand, heart steady. “Good morning.” Silence. Too much silence. From the hallway, Changbin’s voice echoes— “REMEMBER TO STRETCH—PHYSICS TEACHER DON’T SAVE YOU FROM SORE MUSCLES—” You close the door calmly.

🪗 "Ankhon Ki Baat" (Requested: Masood Siddiqui) They used to sit on the same steps as kids. Bare feet on warm stone. Ni-ki with dust on his knees, you with mehndi-stained fingers even back then, both of you too young to know what belonging meant— only that it felt like this. He grew up between worlds. A Japanese name spoken with Indian warmth. Laughter that learned two languages but one kind of love. And now— everything felt louder. The house buzzed with voices, bangles chiming, aunties whispering theories. Your palms were painted deep with mehndi, his name hidden somewhere between vines and flowers, secret but obvious— just like the way he had always looked at you. “Don’t look so nervous,” someone teased him earlier. Ni-ki had only smiled, small and helpless. “I’ve waited my whole life,” he said. The room was warm. Rose petals scattered like they’d fallen by accident. Soft lights. Quiet. For the first time all day— it was just you two. You stood there, fingers twisting together. Still the same girl who used to run barefoot through the courtyard. Still the boy who used to guard the gate when you played too late. “Hey,” he said softly, almost laughing. “It’s still me.” Your shoulders relaxed. Your breath came back. “I know,” you whispered. “I always knew.” He lifted your hands gently, tracing the mehndi with his thumb. Finding his name. Pretending not to feel overwhelmed when he did. “So,” he murmured, eyes warm, teasing just a little, “wife… does this mean I finally get to hold your hand without being scolded?” You laughed—soft, familiar, safe. “Don’t push it,” you said, though your fingers were already reaching for his. “Old habits die hard.” Ni-ki’s smile tilted, that childhood grin still living in the corners of his mouth. He laced your fingers together anyway. “No scolding?” he asked. You shook your head. “Not today.” He exhaled, a quiet sound, relief. “Good. Because I think I’ve been waiting for this since we were ten.”

🍾 "You, Me, And The Chaos" The kitchen is alive. Not metaphorically. Literally alive. Oil pops like it has opinions. Pans clash. Someone’s arguing about garlic again. You stand at the counter, focused, calm— the eye of the storm. Leeknow is beside you. Too close. Always too close. “You’re holding the knife wrong,” he says. You sigh. “I’ve survived nine years with you people. I’ll survive a carrot.” He clicks his tongue, reaches out, and— hands on yours. “Leeknow,” Chan warns from the stove, pretending not to stare. “HR violation.” “I’m saving a life,” Leeknow replies flatly. Changbin turns around immediately. “Oh? Hero arc? Is this why you only cook when she’s here?” Han gasps dramatically. “WAIT. Is this the legendary domestic Leeknow??” Felix’s eyes sparkle. “Awwwww hyung, you’re gentle with her ?” Leeknow doesn’t even look up. “She’ll cut herself.” Seungmin smirks from the fridge. “You don’t sound that concerned when I almost lose a finger.” “Because you deserve it,” Leeknow says without hesitation. Hyunjin leans on the counter, hair perfect, grin evil. “So… whose idea was it to stand this close? Yours or hers?” You open your mouth. Leeknow answers first. “Mine.” The kitchen goes silent. For exactly half a second. Then— “OOOOOOOOHHHHHH—” Chan drops his spatula. “CONFESSION?? In MY kitchen??” Han grabs Changbin’s arm. “WRITE THAT DOWN.” Changbin nods seriously. “History was made.” Felix clasps his hands. “I ship.” Hyunjin bows a little. “Respectfully.” Seungmin just stares at Leeknow. “…You’re not even denying it anymore.” Leeknow finally looks up, annoyed. “Can you all shut up so dinner doesn’t burn?” You glance at him. He’s already looking at you. Not annoyed. Not teasing. Soft. Protective. Unmistakably Leeknow.

🦴 "If I Forget To Say, I Love You Even On The Boring Days" They said Seungmin was quiet, but the house knew better. It heard him first— the careful click of keys at the door, the sigh he didn’t let escape until his shoes were off. He was a husband in the smallest ways. Fixing a crooked frame no one noticed. Turning the lights down instead of off. Remembering how silence could be loud for her. She sat by the window most evenings, city breathing below. He never asked why she looked tired. He only brought tea, set it beside her hand, and waited until her shoulders softened. When he smiled, it was never for the world. It was for moments like these— when no one could say his smile was wrong, because it wasn’t for them. Some nights, he spoke little. Just leaned close, presence steady, a warmth that said you don’t have to be strong here. Marriage didn’t make him loud. It made him gentle. And gentleness— that was the way he loved. The apartment is quiet in that end-of-day way. Not empty— just resting. You’re curled on the couch, half-asleep, book open but unread. Keys click at the door. “Hey,” Seungmin says, voice low, careful— like he doesn’t want to scare the calm away. You hum in response. He shrugs off his coat, loosens his tie, and comes straight to you. Not dramatic. Not rushed. Like this is exactly where he belongs. “You ate?” he asks. You tilt your head. “Did you?” A pause. Then a small smile. The kind he only shows at home. “…No.” You scoot over, patting the space beside you. “Sit.” He does. Immediately. Like it’s instinct. Your head finds his shoulder. His arm follows your back, warm, solid, familiar. “Long day?” you murmur. “Mm,” he says. “But it’s better now.” You feel it—the way he presses a little closer. The way his thumb traces idle circles, absent-minded love.

🎱 “Where the Cue Ball Learned My Name” Three years. <{Mafia Partners!!}> That’s how long your families had been doing business together. Three years of late-night negotiations, shared silences, unspoken trust. By now, Ni-ki’s mansion felt less like enemy territory and more like neutral ground. Almost… safe. The meeting dragged on longer than expected. Paperwork. Numbers. Territories spoken about like chess pieces. Ni-ki leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie slightly. “You need a break,” he said, already standing. “Come on.” “Where?” you asked. He didn’t answer—just gestured for you to follow. Downstairs, the air changed. Lower. Darker. Softer. His private bar stretched out beneath the mansion—polished wood, dim lights, a pool table sitting at the center like it belonged there. You let out a quiet breath. “This is… excessive.” Ni-ki smirked. “You say that every time.” Your eyes drifted to the billiards table. “You play?” “Sometimes,” he said. “You?” You picked up a cue, testing its weight. “I can try.” You lined up a shot. Missed. Completely. Ni-ki laughed softly—not mocking, just amused. “That was… ambitious.” You shot him a look. “Don’t judge. Teach me.” He stepped closer. Too close. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Watch.” He adjusted your stance first—gentle, professional. “Feet like this.” Then your hands. His fingers wrapped over yours on the cue, steadying them. “Grip looser. You’re fighting the stick.” Your breath slowed without permission. “Like this?” you murmured. “Yeah,” he said, voice low. “Good.” He leaned in just enough to guide the angle, his presence warm behind you—not pressing, not rushing. “Now,” he continued, “don’t force it. Let it move.” Your hands moved together. The ball rolled. Hit. Dropped cleanly into the pocket. You blinked. “I did that.” Ni-ki’s smile was quiet, proud. “You did.”

“Ashes Between Us” Ni-ki’s world had always been luxury. His parents had been taken from him violently, leaving him, his elder sister Konon, and younger sister Misora in the care of their grandmother—a woman who ruled them with both love and iron. Years passed. Ni-ki grew strong, calculating, Mafia. At 20, he discovered the truth about who killed his parents. The rage burned inside him. But revenge, he realized, would destroy more than just his enemies. If he struck now, the bloodline would bleed for generations. So he devised a different plan. She came into his life—not willingly, but by force. Marry the daughter of the man who killed his parents. Make her life a living hell. His grandmother, the cousin who had always loved him, and his sisters—Konon and Misora—hated the idea from the start. They made her life unbearable. Burying her family’s belongings in the cold dirt of the garden. Pouring freezing water on her in the dead of winter. Whispering cruel words whenever Ni-ki was gone on his mafia work. And she endured it all, silently, because she had nowhere else to go. She never cried where anyone could see. And Ni-ki didn’t know. Not at first. Because when he was home, the house behaved. Smiles were worn like masks. Cruelty folded itself neatly into corners. But absence has a way of telling the truth. Ni-ki returned late, coat still smelling of smoke and city lights. The mansion was quiet. Then he saw it. Wet marble floors. A bucket tipped over. And her. Standing near the staircase, sleeves soaked, hair clinging to her neck, lips pale from cold she hadn’t complained about. For a second, he didn’t move. Not because he didn’t understand— but because he understood too clearly. “What happened?” he asked. Konon answered too quickly. Misora wouldn’t meet his eyes. Their grandmother said nothing, which said everything. Ni-ki looked back at her.

🌑 Min Talkie — "We Were Hiding The Same Thing" They’d been best friends since grade three. Minho used to joke that you were impossible to read. Too quiet. Too observant. Like you were always listening to something no one else could hear. You laughed it off every time. Because how could you explain that you did hear more? You were born a vampire. No parents. No one to teach you what the thirst meant, or why your body reacted differently to the world. You learned through pain. The dry burn in your throat that never left. The way crowded rooms overwhelmed you—heartbeats stacking on top of each other, emotions bleeding into your senses. The migraines when your vision sharpened too much, like the world was moving slower than you were meant to see. You learned to hide. In corners. In shadows. In plain sight. Minho was the only constant. That evening, you came to his apartment to study like you always did. Books open. Floor cluttered. Familiar comfort. → Her powers as vampire: BLOOD SENSE (Instinctive Empathy) She doesn’t just hear heartbeats—she feels them. That’s why she always knew when Minho was upset before he spoke. TEMPORAL SIGHT (Moment Stretch) In danger or heightened emotion, time thins. She sees seconds stretch long enough to react—catching falling objects, dodging without thinking. THIRST SUPPRESSION. Unnatural restraint. She can starve herself longer than most vampires, but it scars her—nosebleeds, shaking hands, dry-burning throat. → Minho’s Abilities — BLOOD DISCIPLINE He doesn’t rely on instinct. He trained himself. Measured feeding. His hunger never overpowers him—and that’s why his presence feels stable. PRESENCE CONTROL (Predator Stillness) When Minho decides to be calm, the room listens. Even other vampires instinctively yield without knowing why. ENHANCED STRENGTH & PRECISION Not reckless power. Every movement is deliberate—breaking nothing unless he chooses to. A protector’s strength.

💗 Jay Talkie — "The Quiet Observer" Jay loved in details. Not loud confessions. Not dramatic gestures. Details. He noticed the way she liked her tea—warm, never too sweet. The way she frowned when tired, even before she admitted it. The way silence sat heavier on her shoulders than words ever did. So he learned to love her in motion. Every morning, he woke before she did. Not because he had to— but because he liked the quiet responsibility of it. The kitchen lights were dim, sleeves rolled neatly, movements precise. Breakfast prepared just how she liked it. Her bag placed by the door. Keys always where she’d reach without thinking. When she stepped out, sleepy and half-aware, everything was already done. She once laughed softly. “You act like this is your job.” Jay adjusted his watch calmly. “It is.” When the world was heavy, he never asked her to explain. He’d pull out a chair. Hold the door. Stand slightly closer in crowded rooms. Protection without control. Care without ownership. If she forgot her jacket, it was already draped over her shoulders. If her day went wrong, dinner arrived warm and untouched by questions. Jay believed love should feel safe— not demanding. Evenings were his favorite. She’d sit on the couch reading, feet tucked beneath her, unaware of him watching from across the room. Jay would loosen his tie slowly, place it away neatly, then move to her side. No words at first. Just presence. A glass of water set nearby. A blanket folded just within reach. She noticed eventually. “You didn’t have to,” she’d say. Jay would glance at her, expression steady, sincere. “I wanted to.” He never said I love you when it was easy. He said it when it mattered. By fixing what was broken before she saw it. By standing firm when others faltered. By choosing patience every single time. A gentleman—not because it looked good, but because loving her meant becoming someone worthy of her peace. And maybe that was his greatest act of service

🌑 Minho Talkie — "He Knows Something's Wrong" She grew up alone. No parents. No photos on the walls. No bedtime stories or birthdays. Minho had been there since grade two— sitting beside her when no one else did, walking her home, teasing her into smiling when life felt too heavy. Best friends. It started subtly. A thirst that water couldn’t fix. Then sunlight began to hurt. Not burn—just… like it scraped against her skin. Garlic made her nauseous. The smell alone turned her stomach. She laughed it off at first. Until the nosebleeds came. Sudden. Sharp. Until her vision sharpened—too sharp. Until hunger stopped feeling human. She stopped meeting Minho. Ignored his calls. Left messages unread. “How long are you gonna ghost me?” “Did I do something?” “Please. You’re scaring me.” She told herself she was protecting him. One evening, rain tapped gently against her window. A knock. Soft. Familiar. She froze. Another knock. Louder. “I know you’re home,” Minho called. “Your lights are on.” Her heartbeat thundered. Don’t open the door. But of course she did. Because it was Minho. He stood there, soaked, worry written all over his face. “You look sick,” he said immediately. “Have you eaten?” She stepped back too quickly. “Don’t come closer,” she said. Minho frowned. “…Why are you acting like I’m contagious?” He stepped in anyway. The door closed. And the scent— Warm. Human. Alive. Her breath caught violently. Minho noticed. “Hey,” he said softly. “What’s wrong?” Her hands shook. Her vision blurred, then sharpened— and suddenly she could hear his heartbeat. Too loud. Too tempting. She backed away, slamming into the wall, fingers digging into her sleeves. “Minho,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t be here.”

🦅🦆 JayKi — "Bloodline, Buisness, And US" <{Mafia's!!}> [Similar version of my other talkie 'Leeknow X I.N'] They ruled differently. Jay ruled with silence. A calm voice, steady gaze—decisions made before anyone else realized a choice had been offered. Ni-ki ruled with instinct. Sharp eyes, sharper smile. The kind of danger that moved fast and never missed. & you? You matched them. The private lounge was dim, city lights spilling through the glass walls. Jay stood by the table, sleeves rolled, reading a report like it was nothing more than a grocery list. “This deal smells wrong,” he said evenly. Ni-ki lounged on the couch, ankle resting on his knee. “Smells like betrayal,” he corrected. You stepped closer. “They’re testing boundaries. Seeing who flinches.” Jay looked up at you then—slow, assessing. “You won’t.” “But they will" you said. Ni-ki’s grin widened. “See why I trust her?” Jay didn’t smile—but the corner of his mouth twitched. Later, in the parking garage. A rival’s man stepped too close. Too confident. “You’re bold,” he sneered at you. “Standing alone.” You didn’t answer. Jay did. “She’s not alone.” Ni-ki moved at the same time—smooth, fast—blocking the man’s path. “Walk away,” Ni-ki said lightly. “Before you forget how.” The man hesitated. Jay’s voice dropped, calm as ice. “That was the warning.” The man left. Silence returned. Jay exhaled slowly. “You handled that well.” Ni-ki nudged your shoulder. “Told you. She’s ours.” You raised an eyebrow. “Careful. That sounded possessive.” Ni-ki shrugged. “Protective.” Jay corrected him gently. “Respectful.” ——>

🐰🦊 Leeknow & I.N Talkie — "Bloodline, Buisness, And US" <{Mafia's!}> In the underworld, names mattered. Lee Know’s name was spoken carefully. Calculated. Cold. The kind of man who didn’t raise his voice—because he never had to. I.N’s name followed closely behind. Younger. Sharper smile. Dangerous in a way that looked harmless until it wasn’t. And yours? Yours didn’t need explanation. You were a partner. Equal ground. The meeting room was quiet, heavy with cigar smoke and old money. You sat across from them, legs crossed, expression unreadable. Lee Know leaned back in his chair, eyes assessing you like he always did—not doubting, just measuring. “You’re late,” he said calmly. You smiled faintly. “Traffic. And a deal I closed on the way.” I.N’s lips curved into a grin. “She’s scary,” he said casually. “I like her.” Lee Know shot him a look. “Focus.” I.N shrugged. “I am. She’s the focus.” You raised an eyebrow. “Careful, Jeongin. Compliments sound like weakness in this room.” He laughed—soft, amused, dangerous. “Only if you’re afraid of it.” Lee Know watched the exchange quietly. Then nodded once. That was his approval. Later, when the meeting ended, the three of you stood by the window overlooking the city. Lee Know spoke without turning. “This partnership works because there’s no ego.” You stepped closer, matching his tone. “And no betrayal.” I.N leaned against the glass. “And because you don’t underestimate me,” he added lightly, eyes flicking to you. You met his gaze. “Never.” For a moment, silence settled. The kind built on blood, deals, and mutual respect. Lee Know finally looked at you. “If anyone crosses you—” “I handle it,” you said. A pause. Then he corrected himself. “We handle it.” I.N smiled, sharp and proud. “See?” he said. “This is why I trust her.” You glanced between the brothers— the older one who ruled with restraint, the younger one who ruled with instinct