#HAN

[byeoljisub]

great power

[straykidsmedia]

© Lunatik [1, 2] please do not edit or crop logo

[leeeedith]

STRAY KIDS reaction when they realize they're in love with you

Bang Chan 🐺

It hits him in the quiet moments. You're next to him, head resting on his shoulder as you scroll on your phone, and he's just... watching you with the softest smile. You laugh at something and show him the screen, completely unaware of the storm inside his chest. And that's when it hits. "Oh," he thinks. "I'm in love with her." He gets quiet for a second, just staring at you like you're the most precious thing he's ever seen. And when you ask, "What?" with a little smile, he just shakes his head and says, "Nothing. Just... you make me real happy."

Lee Know 🐰

He's helping you cook, and you're singing badly to a song on the radio—dramatically off-key, swinging your hips, making him laugh more than he has in weeks. You accidentally get flour on his nose, and instead of being annoyed, he grins. And in that moment, he realizes he never wants to spend his evenings without this kind of joy again. His heart stutters. "I'm so in love with you," he thinks. He doesn't say it out loud, but later, when you're not looking, he snaps a photo of you laughing—just for himself.

Changbin 🐷

He's walking you home, jacket slung over your shoulders because you forgot yours again. The air is crisp, your hand is swinging in his, and you're telling him a story animatedly. He's not even listening fully, just watching the way your eyes light up, the little crinkle at the edge when you smile. Something in his chest aches. "I'm in love with her," he realizes. He stops walking for a second and just stares at you. You're like, "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" and he shrugs, blushing, "Just thinking about how lucky I am."

Hyunjin 😺

You're sketching quietly on the couch, your lip tucked between your teeth, brows furrowed in concentration. He's watching from across the room. You don't notice him—too in your own world—and that's when it hits. That he's completely, terrifyingly in love with you. That even your silence feels like home. He walks over slowly, wraps his arms around you from behind, and buries his face in your neck. "What's gotten into you?" you giggle. He just murmurs, "Nothing. Just don't ever leave, okay?"

Han 🐿️

You're sharing headphones, lying on your backs in the dark, listening to a playlist you made for him. You're humming along, totally offbeat, but it makes him smile like an idiot. He turns his head to look at you, your features soft in the low light, and suddenly the words hit him louder than the music: "I'm so in love with her." It's scary and beautiful all at once. He doesn't say anything, but he scoots closer and links your pinkies together. It's his quiet way of saying "I'm yours."

Felix 🐥

You're baking together, and you're smudged with flour and laughing like you haven't a care in the world. You give him the spoon to taste the frosting and look up at him, expectant, with that radiant smile of yours. And he just stops. He feels is heart bloom like spring. "I love her," he thinks. Not in the sweet, crush way—no, this is deep. Real. Forever kind of love. He leans in, presses a kiss to your forehead, and says, "You make everything feel like magic."

Seungmin 🐶

You're talking to a kid at the park, tying their shoelace, laughing with them like it's the easiest thing in the world. He watches you from a distance, hands in his pockets, and it hits him all at once—like a breath he didn't know he was holding. "She's it." He's never been the overly emotional type, but his chest feels full to the brim. Later that night, he'll say it softly, while you're curled up in bed, "Hey... I think I'm in love with you." And when you smile into his hoodie, he knows it's real.

I.N 🦊

It's during a grocery run. You're picking out snacks, holding two up and asking which one he likes better, completely serious about it. And he's just... standing there, realizing that even the most mundane moments feel like a dream with you. "I love her," he thinks, stunned by how simple and true it feels. He chooses a third snack and adds it to the basket, mumbling, "Let's get all three. You deserve all the good things." You just grin, and his heart completely combusts.

[dearmini]

𐔌 승민 .ᐟ ꒱ ─ keep the change, and my heart ꩜

KIM SEUNGMIN! ⓘ slowly falling in love with the barista at your favorite and usual cafe.

⌣ ﹒ ✿ ﹕ 𝑏arista!seungmin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff ! 31ss. ⎯⎯ Yᗩᑎi's ᒪIᗷᖇᗩᖇY ⟢ cw. food, bantering , weird jokes. ┆ ☁️ ⋮ smau .ᐟ

𝑦𝑎𝑛𝑖'𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑙 𓈒 𓈒 ⭑ kim seungmin !!!!!! finally able to post this !!!!!! tumblr has been silencing me on my main.. dpmo. obviously, it's terrible so here's my debut on my backup? oh well >< it has been a while since i posted about ksm.. anyway, happy reading <3

the honeybean café smelled like burnt sugar and roasted espresso beans; sweet, warm, a little bit chaotic. like always.

the place was quieter now. the late shift had melted into slow jazz playing through the speakers, and felix was somewhere in the back arguing with pink frosting. outside, the streetlights flickered, soft and golden, casting long shadows across the wooden floors. inside, you were still seated at your usual spot—the window seat with the tiny chip on the corner of the table and a view of nothing in particular.

you watched seungmin walk over. no apron this time. just a navy knit sweater, sleeves rolled up slightly, exposing pale wrists and that stupid silver ring he wore on his thumb. his hair was fluffed up a little, like he’d tried to fix it before walking over, but got nervous halfway through and gave up.

you tried not to smile. you failed.

he stood across from you, hands stuffed in his pockets, pretending he didn’t see felix lurking in the background like a nosy raccoon. “so,” seungmin said, voice low and casual, “you come here often?”

you snorted. “don’t open with a pickup line. it’s embarrassing for both of us.”

“i’m just trying to set the tone,” he shrugged, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “romantic. classic. café romance.”

“you were literally just texting me from across the room.”

“and you liked it,” he countered, pulling the chair out and sitting across from you. “admit it.”

you pretended to think. “i liked the part where you wrote ‘you still write about me?’ on my cup like a wattpad boy.”

he blinked. “wow. i’m gonna take that as a yes.”

“you do that.”

the silence between you wasn’t awkward. it was comfortable, warm—like a mug held between both hands. he was watching you now, a little quieter, a little softer. the sharp edge in his eyes dulled by the dim café lights and whatever the hell was playing on the speaker now (probably jazz with a trumpet solo too long to exist).

“i was gonna wait,” he said eventually. “you know. to ask.”

“to ask what?”

he rolled his eyes. “don’t make me say it.”

you leaned forward. “say it.”

his mouth twitched like he was holding in a sigh—or a laugh. “fine.”

he tapped the table once. “you. me. dinner. a real one. no barista apron. no duck cakes. just... us.”

you blinked.

he shrugged. “unless your next poem’s gonna be about someone else.”

you scoffed, but your stomach was doing cartwheels. “who said i’d say yes?”

“i didn’t,” he said, standing up again. “but i’m willing to bet on it.”

as he turned to walk back toward the counter, you spotted something scribbled in thick marker on your cup. a new message.

“if this is a date, write something about my eyes next.”

you picked up the cup. still warm. like him.

you took a sip. smiled.

maybe you’d write about his smile too.

𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑒𝑛𝘵 𝘵𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝘵 ୨ৎ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @shotngun @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan @its-stayville-forever @ashtxrie @minlixyaoi @shuuporanglinos @bobaluvzz @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @mhluvie @channieschocco @m-325 — fill out this form to be added !! 𝑘𝑠𝑚 𝘵𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝘵 ୨ৎ @met30rc1ty

comments, likes, asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! req. are officially closed till the month of june. thank you for reading, hope you liked it <3

[250318]

© 𝓳𝓲𝓼𝓾𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 | do not edit and/or crop logo

[hyunfilms]

@pearbunny

🎸🤍🌊☀️

[straykidsgallery]

SKZ-TALKER GO! Ep.04 MELBOURNE - Han 👓

[random-incorrect-things]

Chan: Why are you guys acting so dumb?

Jisung: Oh, we're not acting. We really are this stupid.

[changbinniescurlyhair]

Talk Dirty to Me (In Korean) (Bang Chan)

Synopsis. You’ve been secretly learning Korean for months, and tonight, you decide to surprise Chan at a party. Casual conversations with Hyunjin and I.N in fluent Korean leave them stunned, but when Chan catches on, he’s not amused. Instead, he’s possessive and determined to remind you who you really belong to — and he’s going to do it in the language you’ve just mastered. Pairing: Bang Chan x f!reader Warnings: Sexual content (Minors DNI), jealous sex, p in v (unprotected, don't do it), Chan switches from English to Korean and it's hot. A/N: Requested by @true-queen-of-mischief. Thank you so much for the request and being respectful/polite. I wish every anon/user was like you! Taglist is open. Requests Masterlist

The music thumps around you, bass deep in your chest, lights low and shifting. Drinks are flowing, everyone’s loose and laughing — one of those rare nights where all of Stray Kids can just chill together. You’re tucked comfortably on the couch, a little warm from your second cocktail, cheeks flushed, heart buzzing with anticipation.

You’ve been planning this moment for weeks.

“...잠깐만요, 정말 그렇게 말했나요? (Wait, did he really say that?)” The words slide off your tongue effortlessly, and you watch Hyunjin’s eyes go wide like you just flipped his world upside down.

I.N nearly spits out his drink. “Wait—wait, what?! Since when do you speak Korean?”

You just giggle, swirling the ice in your glass like this is no big deal. “그게 중요한가요?” (Does it really matter?) you tease, voice lilting.

They lose it — both of them tossing out shocked praise and excited compliments in rapid-fire Korean, and you soak it all up with a proud little smile. Every late-night study session, every secret Duolingo lesson behind Chan’s back, every embarrassing moment practicing tongue twisters in the mirror… it was so worth it.

But across the room, something shifts.

You catch Chan in your peripheral vision — standing frozen mid-conversation, eyes locked on you.

There’s a moment. Like a record scratch. His expression flickers from confusion to disbelief to something darker, unreadable.

He walks toward you, slow and deliberate, his expression somewhere between a smirk and a scowl.

“Babe,” he says when he finally reaches you. His voice is calm, but tight — too calm. “Can we talk?”

You feel Hyunjin and I.N exchange a knowing glance behind you as you slide off the couch and follow Chan into the hallway, just far enough from the party for privacy.

He turns to face you, arms crossed, his body blocking your exit like he planned it.

“Since when do you speak Korean?” he asks, low and clipped.

You blink up at him with faux innocence. “Since… now?”

“Y/N—no.” His tone drops, low and dangerous, and your stomach does a slow, delicious flip. “You’re not getting out of this. How long have you been hiding it?”

You try to bite back your grin. “A few months. Maybe. I wanted to surprise you.”

“A few months?”

His voice lowers even more, that gravelly edge creeping in. You see it in the way his jaw ticks, how his eyes darken — not angry. Oh no, it’s so much worse than angry.

It’s personal now.

He leans in, and you instinctively back up, spine meeting the wall behind you. You can feel the heat of him, smell his cologne, feel that static electricity in the air between you.

“So let me get this straight,” he murmurs. “You’ve been secretly learning Korean, didn’t tell me, and now you’re using it to flirt with my members?”

You blink. “Flirt? I was just talking…”

“Oh, no, sweetheart.” His voice is syrupy now — sweet, slow, dangerous. “You don’t get to play innocent. You wanna be cute? Speak my language? Keep secrets and make me watch you bat your lashes at Hyunjin and Jeongin?”

He steps in closer, and your breath catches when his mouth brushes just beside your ear.

“Guess I’ll have to remind you who you really belong to,” he whispers — in Korean this time.

You shiver. Not from fear. Oh no. This is something else entirely.

You’re so down bad for this man and he knows it.

He pulls back just enough to see the heat rise in your cheeks, the way your lips part. His hand comes up to tilt your chin, his thumb brushing along your jaw.

“You understood that, didn’t you, jagiya?” he says, gaze burning into yours.

You roll your eyes just to be difficult, but your voice betrays you — breathless, soft. “...안타깝게도 (Unfortunately).”

His grin is slow, wicked.

“Oh, good,” he hums, brushing a kiss just beneath your jaw. “Because I’ve got plenty more Korean to teach you.”

~~~~

The door to Chan's room clicks shut behind you, and everything shifts. The air feels heavier, charged — like something's about to snap.

Chan doesn't say a word. He just stands there, gaze fixed on you. His eyes are dark, intense — glittering with something unreadable, something dangerous. The silence stretches. You can almost hear his heartbeat through the stillness.

And then, without warning, he's on you.

You barely register the movement before your back hits the wall with a soft thud, and his mouth crashes into yours. It's not sweet. It's hungry. Desperate. All teeth and tongue, tasting, claiming. His hands grip your waist tightly, fingers digging into your sides like he's afraid you'll slip through his grasp if he lets go. The groan he lets out — low and deep from his chest — vibrates straight through you, and your knees nearly give out.

"당신은 나를 미치게 합니다 (You drive me crazy),"he growls against your lips, his breath hot as it ghosts down the curve of your neck. His mouth follows — open, insistent — trailing slow, maddening kisses along your skin. "Walking around speaking Korean like that... acting like you don't know exactly what you're doing to me."

Your breath catches as his lips graze your collarbone, and you tangle your fingers in the fabric of his shirt, tugging. "Maybe that was the idea."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide with something primal, something possessive. His gaze roams your face like he's memorizing it — etching the heat, the flush, the need in your expression deep into his memory.

"Oh, you planned this?"

You open your mouth to respond, but you don't get the chance.

Chan lifts you effortlessly, one hand slipping beneath your thighs, the other braced at your back. He carries you like you weigh nothing — like you're already his, and always have been. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and your lips find the curve of his jaw, tasting the tension there.

When he lays you down on the bed, it's with purpose. His touch is reverent, but firm — like he's placing you exactly where you belong.

And then he slows down. Purposefully. Torturously.

His hands explore first — gliding beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming over every inch of exposed skin like it's sacred. Fingertips drag across your ribs, your hips, your thighs. Every touch lights another fuse in your veins. His mouth follows, brushing trails of heat along your body: collarbone, sternum, stomach, lower. Each kiss is slower than the last. Measured. Intentional. Worship.

"그 느낌이 느껴지십니까?" he murmurs against the shell of your ear, voice deep, laced with a heat that makes your stomach clench. "Can you feel that?"

You nod, breathless, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

He smirks, his teeth grazing the skin just below your ear. "You're burning up for me."

And he's right.

You are.

Every part of you is aching for him — for more. And when he starts whispering in Korean again, low and deliberate, you can't take it. You moan his name, breathy and wrecked.

But not in English.

You say it in his language.

Chan freezes.

Just for a second.

Like the air's been knocked out of him.

Then his eyes meet yours, and they're blazing.

"Say it again," he growls. "Say my name like that."

You do.

Again. And again. Watching his control fray with every breathy syllable.

And when he finally gives in — when he settles over you, skin to skin, body to body — it's not just lust. It's a need. A promise.

He moves with purpose, every roll of his hips deep and consuming. His hard length presses against your inner thigh, hot and throbbing. You can feel the slickness between your legs, how ready you are for him. With a groan, he reaches down and guides himself to your entrance.

As he pushes inside, you feel yourself stretching to accommodate his considerable size. He feels huge like this, filling you completely. He sinks in to the hilt with a low groan. You feel impossibly full, almost to the point of pain, but it's perfect. He holds still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size.

Then he starts to move, slowly at first. Every thrust feels deeper than the last, like he's claiming you from the inside out. His hands stay on your skin, stroking, grounding you both. His lips find yours over and over, whispering your name like a mantra between kisses, never quite breaking contact — as if he needs to feel you at all times to stay sane.

And through it all, he keeps murmuring to you — sweet, filthy words in Korean, soft praise laced with heat. You don't need a translation. You feel what he means in the way he touches you, the way he moves inside you, the way he holds your face when your body starts to shake beneath his.

You're not sure what language you're speaking anymore, only that it's his, and that you're calling out for him like he's the only thing that matters.

Because in that moment, he is.

He shifts the angle of his thrusts, somehow going even deeper. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, your orgasm building. He's relentless, pounding into you now, chasing his own pleasure. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh fill the room, mingling with your breathy moans and his guttural groans.

Suddenly, your climax crashes over you without warning. It's intense, all-consuming. You cry out his name as you fall apart beneath him, your nails digging into his back. He follows a moment later with a deep groan, his hips jerking erratically as he spills inside you.

When it's over — when both of you are spent and trembling, tangled together beneath the sheets, skin slick with heat and breath still uneven — he reaches for your hand beneath the blanket, twining your fingers with his.

"I'm never letting you keep secrets like that again," he murmurs, voice hoarse.

You laugh softly, cheeks still flushed, heart still racing. "Guess I'll just have to find new ways to surprise you."

He turns to you, brushing his thumb across your lower lip with a look that says he's far from finished.

"Oh, jagi," he whispers. "You will."

Taglist: @jehhskz

***My works are not allowed for translation or reposting as your own without my permission***

[daily3racha]

HAN for BIORE UV x STRAY KIDS BEHIND THE SCENES

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Gotta appreciate skz commitment to getting Chan out of his shirt at any given opportunity.

🐺🐿️.

[straykidsmedia]

© LIG⚡︎T [1] please do not edit or crop logo

[leeeedith]

STRAY KIDS reaction when their S/O realizes they're in love with them

Bang Chan 🐺

He's pacing around the living room trying to fix your Wi-Fi because you said it was slow, muttering to himself with furrowed brows and glasses slipping down his nose. You're watching from the couch with a throw blanket over your legs and a snack in hand. And then, out of nowhere, it hits you. He does all this without thinking—quiet acts of care, constant support, being your safe place. You stare at him like a dork and whisper to yourself, "I love you." And when he looks up and catches your gaze, his face softens instantly. "What's with the look, baby?" You just shake your head and smile, "Nothing... just love you a little."

Lee Know 🐰

He's giving your cat a full-blown conversation in a high-pitched voice, like a parent gossiping with their toddler, completely unaware that you're standing at the door watching. Your cat blinks slowly at him, and he blinks back like it's a serious exchange. You cover your mouth to keep from laughing too loud. He loves your pet like it's his own. He lets you be yourself. He's never too cool to be silly. It floods in at once: I love this man. Later, when he catches you staring, he raises a brow. "You good?" And you just nod, grinning, "You're gonna be a great dad someday, you know?"

Changbin 🐷

He's rapping under his breath while carrying two grocery bags with one arm, holding your drink in the other, because of course he insisted you not carry anything. You offer to help, and he just gives you that toothy smile: "Nah, I got you." And that's when your chest tightens a little too much. Not from the bags, but because he's always got you. You realize it's not just a crush. This is home. This is real. You lean into his side as you walk, and he glances down, eyebrows raised. "You okay?" "Yeah," you whisper. "Just happy. Really happy."

Hyunjin 😺

He's painting, headphones in, totally in his own world, lips parted in concentration. There's paint on his cheel, and the afteroon light makes him look like a Renaissance dream. You've seen this version of him before—but today it hits differently. You're in love with this man. Not just because he's beautiful. But because of how deeply he feels everything. How he listens. How he sees people. He doesn't notice your watery smile until later when he turns to you and asks softly, "What are you thinking about?" You just say, "You. Always you."

Han 🐿️

He's ranting passionately about a song he wrote, bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands waving everywhere, words tumbling out a mile a minute. You're curled up on the floor across from him, nodding along, eyes wide. And then he gets flustered mid-sentence like, "Wait—is this boring? I'm sorry—" But you stop him, shaking your head, voice barely a whisper: "No. I love it. I love you." His eyes widen. "What?" "I love... listening to you." you cover quickly, but it's already too late. He grins, cheeks flushed, "Nice save, babe. But same here."

Felix 🐥

You're baking something, and he's behind you with his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder, humming softly. The kitchen smells like cinnamon and vanilla, and the only thing warmer than the oven is his embrace. You close your eyes and breathe him in, and you realize—this feels like forever. Like peace. Like... love. Your chest gets a little tight and a lot full. "Lix?" "Mm?" "How do you always make everything fee so right?" He squeezes your waist gently, resting his cheek against yours. "Because it's you."

Seungmin 🐶

He's teasing you as usual, sarcastic comments flying, but he's also passing you tissues when you sneeze and reminding you to drink water every few minuts. That contrast—you realize—is him. Tough in the outside, mush inside. You laugh at something he says and look at him with a softness you can't hide. He notices. "What?" "Nothing," you reply, cheeks warm. "Just... you're kind of everything." He raises a brow, pretending to be unaffected. But when you turn away, he's smiling so hard it hurts.

I.N 🦊

He's making you laugh so hard your stomach hurts, face scrunched, cheeks red, hands failing from some dumb impression he's doing. And then he sees you laughing and gets shy, hiding behind his hands. This boy... this boy is everything. He makes life feel light. Easy. Sweet. And without meaning to, you blurt out, "I think I'm in love with you." He freezes, blinking. You panic. "Wait—I didn't mean to say that out loud—" But then he smiles. That smile. And says, "Good. I've been in love with you since, like, five snacks ago."

[chaosandcandies]

UNPLUGGED

CHAPTER Ⅹ Tension So Thick You Could Cut It With A Lightstick

trope: fem!9th skz member warnings: angst, drama, insecure oc, cyber bullying, slow burn pairings: hyunjinxfem!oc prev|next

Hyunjin sat at the edge of the practice room, his back pressed against the cool mirror wall. The polished floor beneath him was scattered with water bottles, sweat towels, and exhaustion. The rest of the boys were around him, but it didn’t feel like it. They were all somewhere else—mentally orbiting the same knot of guilt he couldn’t shake.

The fight replayed on loop in his mind. The way Iseul’s voice had cracked. The way no one had followed her when she walked out. The way he hadn’t.

He leaned his head back against the mirror and exhaled sharply through his nose. Practice felt useless. The choreography was muscle memory now, but the energy was off. Like they were moving through fog. Like a vital piece was missing—and they all knew it.

She had every right to leave. But still, the image of her retreating figure burned into his mind.

The door creaked open.

Hyunjin’s heart stuttered.

For a split second, he thought—

But it was just Felix and Seungmin, walking in behind Han. No Iseul. The disappointment hit harder than he wanted to admit.

Seungmin looked around the room, his gaze landing on the empty spot Iseul always took near the back corner. His face didn’t shift much, but the subtle downturn of his mouth said enough.

Han was fidgeting with the zipper of his hoodie, pacing. He looked like he had something to say but couldn’t find the words. None of them could. It was like if someone acknowledged her absence, the weight of it would become unbearable.

Chan entered last.

He looked like hell.

His hoodie was wrinkled, his hair still wet from a shower that had clearly been too quick, and his eyes—his eyes were red-rimmed with fatigue. Not the kind that sleep could fix. The kind that guilt fed.

"Where’s Iseul?" he asked, voice tight.

No one answered.

“She still isn’t back,” Changbin muttered eventually, voice low.

Chan let out a breath through his nose, hands on his hips. “Do you realize what we’ve done?” His voice cracked on the last word. Not with anger—with disappointment.

Hyunjin’s throat clenched.

“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he said, quietly, like maybe if he said it enough times, it’d undo everything.

“No one did,” Chan replied. “But in the end, she isn’t here yet now, is she?”

The room fell silent. Not the comfortable kind. The kind that suffocated.

A beat passed. Then two.

Minho shifted, his arms crossed, eyes trained on the floor like it might shift the blame away if he stared long enough. Even he wasn’t throwing out sarcastic jabs to break the tension.

“We should start,” Felix said softly, the first to move. “Even if she’s not here yet.”

They nodded. What else could they do?

Music filled the space. But it didn’t settle in their bodies the way it usually did. They moved through the choreography like ghosts, chasing rhythm without conviction. No one dared speak unless it was to count out loud or breathe directions.

Until—

The door opened again.

This time, no one turned around immediately. They didn’t want to look, didn’t want to hope. Not again.

But they heard the sound of a bag being dropped, the soft scuff of sneakers on the polished floor.

Hyunjin turned.

She was there.

Iseul stood just inside the doorway, her posture stiff, her expression unreadable. Her presence shifted the room instantly—like something had been sucked out of the air and replaced with cold.

“Sorry I’m late,” she muttered, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Chan’s head whipped around, and the sharpness in his expression was immediate. Relief tangled with frustration, bursting out as something jagged.

“Where the fuck have you been?” His voice wasn’t raised, but it cut through the air like a slap.

Iseul flinched. She didn’t cower, didn’t bite back. Just… flinched. Like she’d expected it.

“I needed space,” she said, voice tight. “I went to clear my head.”

Chan’s jaw clenched. “You can’t just disappear on us, not after what happened last night. You could’ve at least texted.”

Iseul stared at a spot on the floor, jaw tense. Her hands were curled into the sleeves of her hoodie, fingers twitching like she wanted to say something but had already talked herself out of it.

“My phone died,” she said finally. Not quite a lie, not quite the truth.

“Do you have any idea how worried we were?” Chan pushed, his voice straining with the effort it took to keep it even. “I had to call your mom because we had no idea where you’d gone.”

“I’m here now.” Her tone wasn’t defensive. Just tired. Flat. Like she’d rehearsed that response on the way over. Like that was all she was willing to offer.

The silence that followed her words was thick, heavy with things unsaid.

Hyunjin didn’t realize he’d taken a step toward her until his heel scraped faintly against the floor. She glanced up at the sound, eyes locking with his for a split second before darting away again.

He swallowed. “We just… we didn’t know if you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” She adjusted her bag strap, like she was trying to give herself something to do, something to anchor her to the moment.

Minho watched her closely. “You don’t have to act like nothing happened.”

“I’m not.” Her voice cracked faintly on the second word, but she cleared her throat and blinked it away. “And stop dilly-dallying. Let’s start practice.”

Felix took a small step forward, his voice tentative. “You can talk to us, y’know.”

Iseul’s expression didn’t shift. “I know.”

But she didn’t.

Not really.

She walked past them, slow but steady, like threading her way through a minefield. No one reached out to stop her. No one dared. She made her way to the back corner—her corner—and set her bag down without a word. She tugged her hoodie sleeves down over her hands and started to stretch like it was just another day.

Like she hadn’t been gone all night. Like nothing had broken.

Hyunjin sat back down, pulse drumming in his ears. He could feel the words forming behind his teeth, too many of them, too sharp and too late. But he didn’t say a single one.

He watched her instead—watched her tie her hair up, roll out her shoulders, flex her fingers.

Then his eyes caught on something—her hands. Her knuckles, raw and reddened, one of them slightly swollen.

He opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Everyone else noticed too. But no one said a thing.

Not because they didn’t care—because if they brought it up, they’d have to confront all of it. The shouting. The silence. The damage.

Minho cleared his throat. “Let’s just… pick it up from the bridge.”

The room was thick with tension, but the boys tried to carry on with the practice. Felix, noticing the heavy atmosphere, cracked a joke about missing the usual coffee run, trying to make everyone laugh, but it fell flat. Minho’s attempt to lighten things up by throwing a playful jab at Seungmin about his footwork only elicited a weak smile from him, not quite reaching his eyes.

Iseul stood off to the side, arms crossed, still carrying that distant air. She hadn’t said much since her brief apology, her gaze fixed on the floor. She wasn’t angry anymore, but the coldness between them was a reminder that the distance between them hadn't vanished.

Changbin stepped up next to her, clapping his hands together, trying to create some kind of normalcy. “You ready to get back in, Iseul?” His voice was casual, but there was a flicker of guilt underneath the surface.

Iseul gave him a nod, but it was stiff, mechanical. She didn’t look at any of them directly, her movements smooth but detached. She wasn’t ready to open up—not yet.

Chan, who had been pacing near the center of the room, finally stopped and turned toward the group. His exhaustion was evident in the way he carried himself, his shoulders hunched in a rare moment of vulnerability. “Alright, let’s just focus, okay? We’ve got a lot of work to do, and we need to finish this practice strong.”

The practice continued, but the tension lingered in every movement, in every pause. Hyunjin couldn’t shake the image of Iseul’s bruised knuckles, the marks from her own silent battle. It was hard to concentrate, and even harder to ignore how much he wanted to make things right.

He wanted to ask. He wanted to say sorry. He wanted to make it right.

But it wasn’t the right time.

As the practice wound down and they began to pack up, there was an unspoken shift in the room. The tension had not fully dissipated, but for the first time in hours, Iseul moved closer, walking with them toward the van. Her silence didn’t feel like rejection anymore; it was just... neutral. She was still there, still walking with them, not turning away.

Chan glanced at her as she fell in step beside him, his eyes softening as he realized that, for all the space between them, she wasn’t leaving. She was still part of the team, even if everything hadn’t been fixed yet.

Han, who had been quiet for most of the practice, shot Iseul a look. “You’re coming back to the dorm, right?” His tone was casual, but there was an edge of surprise in his voice, like he hadn’t expected her to show up, let alone stick around.

Iseul didn’t respond immediately. She just kept walking, her pace matching theirs, her head held high. Then, with a hint of sharpness that caught them all off guard, she spoke.

“Why? You think I should sleep on the streets?” Her voice was calm but challenging, an undercurrent of something unspoken hanging in the air.

Han made a small noise like he’d been physically struck.

“Of course she’s coming back,” Chan cut in, too fast, too desperate. “It’s her home too.”

Iseul didn’t say anything else. She just kept walking, her presence enough of a reminder that they couldn’t undo the damage done, but they could still move forward—slowly, cautiously, but they could still try.

As they reached the van, the boys filed in quietly, each of them carrying their own thoughts, their own guilt, but there was a quiet sense of hope, too. She hadn’t left them. She hadn’t turned away. She was still here. And maybe that was all they needed to start healing.

The van ride home was silent. Not the comfortable, end-of-a-long-day kind. The kind that made your skin itch, your brain replay every word you didn’t say.

Iseul sat near the window, her cheek resting against the glass. The city lights blurred past her, reflected faintly in her tired eyes. No one sat beside her. Not because they didn’t want to—but because they didn’t know if she wanted them to.

Hyunjin sat directly behind her, elbows on his knees, headphones in but no music playing. He watched the back of her head the entire ride. He didn’t mean to. He just… couldn’t not.

When they finally reached the dorm, the boys filed out slowly, like they were trying not to wake something fragile. Iseul was the last to step out. Her steps were steady, but she looked like she was holding her breath.

Inside, the dorm was dim and too quiet. Felix and Jeongin disappeared toward the kitchen, mumbling something about snacks. Han hovered awkwardly in the hallway, then ducked into the bathroom. Chan stayed near the entrance, arms crossed, watching Iseul like she might disappear again if he blinked.

She slipped off her shoes, set her bag down, and headed toward the shared space she’d only barely started to call home.

Hyunjin lingered.

She reached for the freezer, fingers brushing the handle, probably going for her usual yogurt stash.

And then he saw it again—her hand.

Red. Swollen. Angry-looking.

His chest tightened.

He moved without thinking.

“Iseul,” he said softly.

She stilled. Didn’t look at him. “What?”

He hesitated, then nodded toward her hand. “Does it hurt?”

Silence.

Then: “No.” A beat. “Yes.” Another beat. “It doesn’t matter.”

He stepped closer. Careful, like approaching a wounded animal.

“It matters.”

This time, she looked at him. Not with anger—but with something quieter. Worn-down. Empty. Like she didn’t have the strength to argue.

He didn’t say anything else. Just turned, opened the fridge, grabbed a pack of frozen dumplings. Wrapped it in a dish towel. Walked over and held it out to her, wordlessly.

She stared at it. At him.

Then, slowly, she took it and pressed it to her hand.

“Thanks,” she said, so softly he almost missed it.

He nodded once, not trusting himself to say anything else.

They stood there like that—quiet, unsure—until Chan’s voice broke the moment.

“We’re ordering dinner. Iseul, anything you want?”

Her eyes flicked toward the living room. She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

Chan exhaled. “Still getting you something.”

And that was it. No one pushed her to talk. No one acted like things were normal. But they didn’t avoid her anymore, either.

Later, after the others were sprawled around the living room—Felix half-asleep, Jeongin giggling over a dumb meme, Minho picking on Seungmin—Iseul stayed in the kitchen, still icing her hand.

Hyunjin passed by again. Their eyes met.

He didn’t speak. But he did something unexpected.

He sat across from her at the table.

And for the first time since she’d walked out, they simply… sat. In silence. Not angry. Not avoiding. Just there.

And maybe that was enough. For now.

TAGLIST: @leewritesstuff, @athens-09xx, @allenajade-ite, @idjdndjzbsdm, @idjdndjzbsdm, @hyuneskkam, @geni-627, @valkirymin, @miminbin, @tillaboo, @dreamerwasfound, @youthsquaredd, @skzstannie, @nchhuhi, @rtyuy1346

STORY HINT: Chan didn’t sleep that night, even though Iseul returned. It wasn’t because of work—he’d closed his laptop hours ago, headphones abandoned on the desk. But her voice echoed louder than any beat he could've made. The way it cracked when she said, “I’m fine,” played on loop in his head. And the worst part was knowing she said it to protect them. To protect him. That kind of hurt doesn’t let you rest.

WASSUP PEEPS! AAHAHAHAHHAHA I'm like super duper sorry for posting after such a long time but life has been super busy - classes started again and it took time to settle into a routine but ur fav girl is back AND IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN I OPENED TUMBLR TO SEE 165 FOLLOWERS TwT Ily all, yall deserve the world. Tysm for giving sm love to this fic - i nvr imagined it in my wildest dreams Stay safe, ilysm <3 ~candy

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