☁️ 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.”

“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.