Title: You Can't Catch Me Now [Inspired by Olivia Rodrigo You cant catch me now] you don't remember when you ran, only that at some point standing still became unbearable. The night air cuts into your lungs as you move through it, shoes slapping against pavement slick with old rain. The city blurs past you in streaks of dim lights and shadowed alleys, but you don’t slow down. You can’t. Not when every step forward feels like tearing yourself free from a version of yourself that was never allowed to breathe. Behind you there is a past that still calls your name. In front of you there is silence. And choice. You don’t look back. Seungmin stands beneath a broken streetlight three blocks away, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, jaw clenched so tightly it aches. He’s been standing there for a while now, long enough for the cold to settle into his bones, long enough for doubt to creep in and whisper that maybe you were never going to come. That maybe this was it. The end of something he never learned how to protect. He told himself he wouldn’t chase you told himself that if you left it would be because you needed to, not because he failed to hold on tightly enough. But the truth is that he has been chasing you for years...through conversations that went nowhere, through apologies that arrived too late, through quiet moments where he could feel you slipping away even while you sat right beside him. He just didn’t realize how fast you could run. When he finally sees you...hair tangled by the wind, eyes sharp with something like fire... his breath stutters. You don’t look broken the way he expected. You don’t look scared. You look resolved. You slow to a stop a few feet away from him, chest rising and falling, hands trembling not from exhaustion but from adrenaline. For a moment neither of you speaks. The city hums around you, indifferent, unbothered by the way something fragile is hanging in the space between you. (GO TO DETAILED DESCRIPTION PLEASE...)

Title: Alleyways of You [inspired by “Alleyways” by The Neighbourhood] Ni-ki was never meant to meet someone like Park Sunghoon. He worked quiet mornings at a café tucked between old bookstores and forgotten alleyways a place where the world felt small, safe, predictable. He brewed coffee, wiped counters, smiled at strangers. He was sunshine bottled into human form warm, forgiving, and too kind for a city that only knew how to take. Everyone warned him about Sunghoon. The name alone was enough to silence a room whispered in fear, never spoken aloud. The man who owned half the city, who could destroy with a word. A ruthless mafia boss whose blood ran colder than the steel he carried. But Ni-ki didn’t know any of that the night he found a stranger bleeding in the rain. He didn’t ask questions. He just crouched down, offered his jacket, and pressed trembling hands to the wound. "You’re hurt,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t be here,” the man replied. His voice was deep, rough, dangerous but Ni-ki only smiled. “Then it’s a good thing I don’t listen well.” He didn’t realize until later that the man he’d saved was Park Sunghoon himself. When Ni-ki’s father’s debts caught up to him, the truth hit like a bullet. Sunghoon came to collect and this time, he wasn’t bleeding. He was cold, calm, terrifyingly in control. “Your father owes me,” Sunghoon said, his tone almost bored. “And since he can’t pay… you will.” Just like that, Ni-ki’s life was no longer his own. He was brought into a mansion built of marble and silence, where power whispered through every hallway and fear lived in every shadow. But Sunghoon for all his cruelty didn’t touch him. Not once. Instead, he watched. (PLEASE GO INTO MORE DETAILED READING BY PRESSING ON THE PLACE WHERE YOU SEE YOUR LEVEL)

Title: The Devil's Right Hand [Inspired by all the good girls go to hell by billie ellish] Riki was a demon born of shadow and sin. To the world, he was the cold-hearted mafia king, the man whose name made rivals choke on fear. He lived on control, blood, and loyalty forged in violence. No softness, no weakness until Y/N walked into his office. She wasn’t like the others. Assistants before her kept their heads down, never daring to look into his eyes. But Y/N did. Her gaze was sharp, daring, as if she wasn’t staring at a demon but at a man she refused to bow to. The first day, she dropped a stack of corrected files on his desk. “You should fire your accountant,” she said flatly. “He’s either sloppy or stupid. Probably both.” Riki’s eyes narrowed. No one spoke to him like that. “You have a sharp tongue,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Do you plan on keeping it?” Her lips curved into a smirk. “That depends. Do you plan on cutting it out?” Silence. Then, to her surprise, Riki laughed low, dangerous, amused. From that moment, she wasn’t just an assistant. She was a storm he couldn’t control, and he found himself craving it. He tested her constantly. Midnight errands. Dangerous meetings. Tasks that would break anyone else. But Y/N returned every time, chin tilted, fire in her eyes. One night, after a bloody deal gone wrong, he returned to the mansion with crimson staining his shirt. His men avoided his gaze, but Y/N stepped forward, calm as ever. She pulled out a cloth and dipped it in water, approaching him slowly. “You’re a mess,” she murmured, wiping blood from his jaw. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist, his voice low. “You’re not afraid?” She met his gaze, unwavering. “If I was afraid, I wouldn’t still be here.” Something dark and dangerous flickered in his chest. No one had ever spoken to him like that. No one had ever dared touch him with such steadiness.

Title: Crown of Ashes [HAPPY BDAY TO SEUNGMIN...Inspired by Night by Keshi] The night always carried weight when Seungmin walked into a room. His reputation preceded him.. the cold, calculated mafia boss who never flinched when the world bled around him. What they didn’t see was the way his hands shook when the gun smoke cleared, the way silence haunted him louder than gunfire. He hadn’t wanted this life. He was born into it, forced to wear the crown of violence, chained by loyalty and blood. And though he sat on the throne, his nights were filled with fractured memories faces he could never forget, ghosts clawing at his chest until sleep became another battlefield. That was when he met Y/N. She wasn’t delicate. She wasn’t afraid. She walked into the meeting room in heels sharp enough to kill, her suit pressed, her gaze sharper than the knives tucked beneath Seungmin’s table. She was everything people underestimated.. a badass businesswoman who had built empires with her bare hands, who knew how to slit throats with words before men could even draw their weapons. Seungmin hated that she didn’t flinch when their eyes met. Most people looked at him with fear. She looked at him like she was challenging him. > “You don’t scare me,” Y/N said, voice calm, as though she wasn’t standing across from one of the most dangerous men in the city. Seungmin’s jaw clenched. “Maybe you should be scared.” She tilted her head. “Or maybe you should stop pretending you’re the monster they all say you are." The words hit harder than any bullet ever had. Because she saw through him. Through the mask, through the blood, through the cold armor he wore every day. She saw the cracks in him, the man beneath the mafia boss the boy who had never been given a choice. And that terrified him more than anything.

Title: Bite Me Gently [Inspired by Lucid by Jeff satur] Yeonjun was the kind of boy mothers warned their daughters about. Handsome, sharp-tongued, and with a smile that could melt even the iciest heart, he carried the reputation of a shameless flirt. People whispered about his careless teasing, the way he made promises he never intended to keep, and the trail of broken hearts left behind him. But all of that changed the moment he met Y/N. Y/N was different. She didn’t blush at his flirtations or stumble over his casual winks. Instead, she met his charm with a steady, unreadable gaze. There was something about her mysterious, alluring, like a secret that begged to be uncovered. Yeonjun, who never once thought of love as anything more than a fleeting game, found himself captivated. What he didn’t know at first was that Y/N carried a truth far heavier than his teasing heart could imagine. She wasn’t like anyone else. She was a vampire. At first, Yeonjun thought it was a joke. But one evening, when the moonlight caught the glint of her fangs, he realized the danger wrapped inside the girl he adored. Most people would have run. But Yeonjun didn’t. Instead, he smiled in that infuriating, reckless way of his and said, “Figures. Only a vampire could make me fall this hard.” Loving Y/N wasn’t simple. Her world was cloaked in shadows, ruled by hunger and the constant battle against instincts she couldn’t always control. There were nights when her eyes would darken, her breath would grow shallow, and she wouldn’t even have to say a word. Yeonjun would notice the signs immediately. Without hesitation, without fear, he would simply press a carton of milk into her hands. He teased her about it “Better not bite me when you’ve got this, sweetheart”but deep down, it was his way of showing love. He never asked for explanations, never judged the struggle she lived with. Instead, he stayed quietly protecting her in the only way he knew.

Title: Ashes for a Fragile Heart [Inspired by Wrong by Chris grey] She moves like a threat and a promise at the same time Y/N, all angles and quiet violence, the kind of woman who carries a storm in the hollow of her wrist and a lighter in the back pocket of her jeans. People tell stories about her the way old sailors tell ghost stories: half awe, half warning. She is beautiful in the way danger is beautiful sudden, magnetic, impossible to look away from. Her kindness is transactional and rare; cruelty is an art she has practiced until its edges are sharp enough to cut mirror-bright reflections of herself. She laughs like a match struck on bone. If love is currency, she spends it in big, incendiary notes. "I’d burn it all,” she says once, and the way she says it makes you believe the city could be reduced to embers just to heat one small thing Sunoo. Sunoo is the opposite of her in every way that matters. He is a vase made of thin glass, delicate and often trembling; a child left too long in the rain. His voice slips like a secret: soft, dampened by sleep, and always with the echo of a plea. He cries easily at rain, at a stray dog’s gaze, at a line of a song that hangs like a question. The cruelty of the world sits heavy on his shoulders and he bears it as though the world were a puzzle he doesn’t know how to solve. One insult can flatten him like a sudden gust collapsing a paper boat. He smiles like someone who’s discovered a small miracle and is afriad to look away. They do not make sense on paper. She is ash and iron; he is water-coloured and say-too-much. Yet she keeps him close like contraband, like something sacred she can’t sell even if selling it would pay for a thousand burned bridges. There is a tenderness in her that rarities have: hidden, fierce, and dangerous to anyone who tries to map it. For him she is a soft lie and an honest threat. For her he is the only truth she allows herself to hold.

Title: Strength in the Heart [Inspired by My love will Remain by josh makazoo] Bang Chan had never known luxury. His life was a collection of patched-up clothes, worn-out shoes, and dreams too fragile to speak aloud. Money had always slipped through his fingers like water, but despite that, he never allowed bitterness to take root in his heart. People often whispered that poverty hardens a man, but in Chan’s case, it had polished him into something rare a gentleman who carried kindness like an inheritance. He held doors open, offered help without being asked, and wore his smile as if it were armor against the cruelty of the world. He never raised his voice. Even when insulted or underestimated, Chan bowed his head politely, answering cruelty with grace. But behind that quiet resilience was a heart that beat restlessly, a heart that belonged to someone who had no intention of accepting it. Y/N. Where Chan was warmth, Y/N was fire. She was the kind of person who didn’t need to demand respect it came to her naturally, trailing in her wake like shadows. She was fearless, sharp-tongued, and impossible to intimidate. While others might dream of soft romances, she dismissed the very idea with a scoff. “Love?” she would say, her voice like steel cutting through the air. “Love means weakness.” It wasn’t just a phrase to her it was a shield. A wall she had built around herself with bricks of defiance and iron gates of pride. To her, vulnerability was a cage, and she had spent too long fighting to be free to let anyone lock her down with feelings. She walked through the world untamed, her chin high, her smirk daring anyone to challenge her authority. And yet, against every rule she set for herself, her heart betrayed her. Because somewhere between Chan’s gentle persistence and his unfailing respect, she found herself faltering. His patience cracked the armor she swore was unbreakable...

Title:"This Soft Rebellion" [Inspired by somwhere only we know by hope and fear] It started in the forgotten part of town a park swallowed by weeds and time, where broken benches leaned like tired bones and the wind carried the ghosts of laughter. Sunoo liked it there. It was the only place where the noise of the world didn’t demand him to be louder, braver, more something. And then Y/N showed up. Boots crunching dead leaves, a scar on her cheek like a badge of survival, eyes like storms that didn’t apologize for raining. She was everything he wasn’t loud in presence, quiet in pain, wild in ways that made the sky look tame. “You always hide here?” she asked the first time, half a smirk on her lips. “You always invade sacred places?” he countered, a rare sharpness in his voice. That was the beginning. They met again. And again. Days blurred. The city never noticed them vanishing into that green oblivion, but they noticed each other in glances that lingered too long, in silences that meant more than words. Y/N talked about running. “I want to disappear,” she’d say. “Take a train, never look back.” Sunoo would nod, not because he wanted to run, but because he understood what it meant to need escape. He talked about feeling too much. “It hurts,” he’d whisper. “Everything does.” And Y/N, who’d built walls from pain, softened only for him. “Then don’t carry it alone,” she said. One rainy evening, they sat on the old carousel, rusted and unmoving, yet still somehow magical. She looked at him like he was the only gentle thing left in the world. He looked at her like she was the only one who could survive it. “I’m scared,” he said. “Of what?” “Of this. Of you. Of finally feeling safe.” Y/N didn’t flinch. She just held his hand, rough and delicate together. “You think I’m not scared too?” she asked “You think I don’t want to run the second I realize I care?” He looked up at her the girl who fought everything [DETAILED READING IF YOU WANT] 👆

"Crimson Glare" [inspired by gradient by josh makazoo] Y/N knew Hyunjin was wrong for her the second he looked at her like he already owned her. Not in the way boys flirt in the way wolves watch. Cautious. Calculated. Carnivorous They met in shadows, in the half-light of some underground bar where basslines hit harder than morals. He wore all black, jaw sharp like a warning. And when he smiled slow, deliberate it didn’t reach his eyes. But she followed him anyway. There was no soft beginning. No candlelit dates. No whispered promises. Just tension. Static. A stare that didn’t break. She told herself it was fascination. That’s what people did with danger, right? Stare at it until it burned holes in them. But Hyunjin was the kind of burn that felt good. He moved through the world like he had nothing to lose and everything to break. And somehow, she liked the way he looked at her like she was both. It was late, maybe 3AM. She showed up at his place after one of their fights red-eyed, makeup smudged, biting back whatever pride she had left. “I’m not your Fxxcking possession, Hyunjin,” she hissed, voice cracking. “You can’t keep doing this controlling, twisting” “You’re the one who came back.” That stopped her. He took a step forward, slow and predatory. She stepped back, spine hitting the cold brick wall of his apartment hallway. Her chest rose and fell, every breath daring him. “You want me to stop?” he murmured, voice low. “Say it.” Her lips parted but nothing came out. And that’s when his hand wrapped around her throat. Not tight. Not soft either. Just enough. Fingers cold, grip steady. His body pressed close, caging her in. The air shifted. Her heart slammed. “Say it,” he repeated eyes boring into hers, all storm and hunger and something darker. Y/N’s hands curled around his wrist not to pull away. Just to feel. “You don’t want me to stop,” he whispered, voice dragging like velvet over glass “You like it when I ruin you." [detailed reading] 👆

“Hotel Room 312 ” [Inspired by "Made Me a Man" – Jackson Wang BL] The rain hadn’t stopped in three days. Neither had Yoon-seok’s unease. He worked the graveyard shift at a once-grand hotel nestled in a part of the city time had abandoned. The building creaked with secrets. Velvet-lined halls held the scent of forgotten perfumes and old regrets. A place where things came to disappear lovers, money, sometimes people. Yoon-seok didn’t ask questions. He was good at that. The guests came and went like mist, faces blurred by half-light and fogged windows. Most never stayed more than a night. They never looked back. And neither did he. Until the night he arrived. Baek-ho. Tall. Pale. A silhouette cut from smoke. He stepped through the glass doors just after 3:12 a.m., soaked but unbothered. Black clothes clung to his frame like they belonged to him more than skin. He didn’t check in. Didn’t ask. He dropped a thick wad of bills on the counter and said only, “Room 312.” Yoon-seok hesitated. “We usually require ID” Baek-ho didn’t speak. He just looked at him. And something about that stare too steady, too knowing made Yoon-seok’s throat tighten. He handed him the key. Hands brushed, just slightly. Cold fingers. Warmer than expected. In the days that followed, Baek-ho didn’t vanish into his room like the others. He lingered. First in the lobby, sitting beneath the broken chandelier, watching the rain blur the world beyond. Then on the staircase between floors, still as a shadow. Sometimes near the back office, where Yoon-seok liked to hide with the lights dimmed and his headphones in. Baek-ho never knocked. Never spoke. But he was there. And Yoon-seok? He started watching back..to be continued..PLEASE GO TO MORE DETAILED READING PLACE GO PRESS ON THE BUTTON WHERE THE NAME OF BAEK-HO IS AND GO DOWN THERE IS A MORE DETAILED EXPLANATION. thank you.

Title: "Same Black Tie" [inspired by black tie by jeff satur] Y/N told herself she was free. She left quietly, without goodbyes, slipping out of the life he wrapped around her like silk and steel. No contact. No headlines. No trace. But when the envelope arrived black, heavy, with her name embossed in silver she knew it was over. There were no threats inside. Just an address. A date. And beneath it, in his handwriting: “I never stopped waiting.” She should’ve burned it. Instead, she got in the car. The penthouse was as cold and calculated as the man who ruled it. All glass and marble. It looked down on the city like a god. Lee Minho didn’t rise when she walked in. He didn’t need to. He was already winning. “I see exile humbled you,” he said simply. She didn’t answer. Her silence didn’t bother him. He’d always preferred her quiet it made it easier to read her thoughts, easier to bend her without words. Two years hadn’t changed him. Still dressed like he could command a boardroom or bury a body without blinking. Still wearing the same black tie the one she once loosened on nights when his cruelty turned soft behind closed doors. But that softness was gone now. If it had ever been real. “You had your fun playing free,” he said. “Now I’m done waiting.” He handed her a folder. Legal. Sealed. She didn’t open it. “You think I’d just come back because you asked?” she said. He didn’t answer. Because he knew. She had come back. And that was enough. What she didn’t realize what she hadn’t seen in the fine print of the life she once lived was that Lee Minho never let go of anything he touched. Not companies. Not power. Not her. And this time, he wasn’t going to let her walk out. Not without paying the full price.

Title:"Velvet Ruin" [inspired by ride or die by jeff Satur] The city never slept, but it always mourned. Rain washed the blood from alleyways and the sins from rooftops, but never the guilt from Minho’s hands. He wasn't looking for redemption he stopped pretending to care about that long ago. What he needed was silence. Stillness. A reason to stop running. He found her in the quiet. Y/N. She wasn’t the kind of beautiful that made heads turn. She was the kind that made people uneasy like staring into eyes that had seen too much and lived through too little. She worked the bar like she didn’t care if the world ended the next day. Maybe she hoped it would. Minho watched her pour drinks like poison, speak like each word was a dare, and smile like it hurt. He didn’t ask her name the first night. Didn’t need to. Some people don’t enter your life they collide into it like car crashes and bullets. They became a secret no one could afford. She didn't ask about the blood under his nails, and he didn’t flinch when she stitched up her own ribs in the bathroom mirror. Their love was never soft. It was desperate. Sharp-edged. Reckless. But in the madness, they made sense. Minho would die for her. He decided that before he even kissed her. And when he finally did it was in the middle of a storm, with sirens screaming down the street, the taste of gasoline in the air, and her hands tangled in his like a prayer. But love like theirs didn’t get a happy ending. It got warnings. Ultimatums. Bodies. Minho crossed the wrong man. The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to cut throats. The kind of man Y/N used to work for. Secrets spilled. Blood followed. And just like that, the world started collapsing. They ran. They burned bridges and buried names. Every day was survival, every night a countdown. But in the chaos, they were alive more than they had ever been.

Title:"In the Name of Ruin" [inspired by Say The name by Jeff Satur] The rain hadn’t stopped in three days. Bangkok pulsed with neon and smoke, and the night air stung like secrets waiting to be confessed. Y/N walked fast, heels clicking like a countdown, heart beating out of rhythm. That’s when she saw him. Niki. Leaning against the rusted frame of a closed tattoo parlor, cigarette between his lips, black hoodie soaked to the bone. His eyes flicked to her, sharp, glassy like he recognized her from another lifetime. Or maybe just the kind of man who recognizes broken things when he sees them. “You always walk alone this late?” he asked, voice low like a cello in a funeral song.“Only when I don’t want to be found,” she replied. He smiled, slow and dangerous. “Too late.” That was the beginning. Y/N didn’t know what Niki did for a living. He had too much silence in his soul and too many scars on his hands for it to be something ordinary. He smelled like smoke and leather, his kisses tasted like fire, and when he said her name, it didn’t feel like a name anymore it felt like a possession. “Y/N,” he would whisper against her throat, his breath warm, eyes bruised with sleepless nights. “Don’t disappear on me.” “I should,” she whispered. “You’re not safe.” He chuckled, bitter and breathless. “Neither are you.” The city became their accomplice empty parking lots, forgotten rooftops, dirty motels. They loved like fugitives, fast and quiet, like the world would end if they stopped. Maybe it already had. She never asked about the tattoos that coiled around his ribs or the names burned into them. He never asked why her hands always trembled when he touched her like she deserved to be worshipped. But there were whispers. A girl before her. A fire. A death that was never solved. And Niki the boy with the knife and the piano hands had something to do with it. Still, Y/N stayed. Not because she trusted him but because she saw something deeper in his darkness.

Title:"Beautiful Ruin" [inspired by the machine by reed wonder] They say love is patient. That it waits. They're wrong. Love isn’t patient. It’s a hunger with a pretty face A storm with soft hands. I knew that the second I saw her Y/N She wasn’t doing anything special. Just standing in the rain, blinking up at the streetlight like it had a secret to tell her. Everyone else passed like ghosts, but not her. She was real. Bright Unaware. And mine. Not in some sweet fairytale way. No. In the way a wolf knows which deer in the forest is already bleeding I didn’t chase her. I didn’t need to. I watched. I waited. And when I stepped into her world, I made sure she felt me before she even turned around. Fear. Curiosity. Heat. She pretended she didn’t see me at first. I let her pretend. Some people like to believe they choose who they love. Let her have the illusion I didn’t flirt I didn’t play. I studied her the way she held her coffee cup too tight when she lied, the way she looked down when she was unsure, the little tremble in her lip when someone got too close. She thought I was beautiful. Good. I am. But beauty hides sharp things. And I’m not soft. I’m not sweet. I’m not the kind of man who asks, “Do you love me?” I look you in the eyes and say, “Prove it." The first time she tried to leave i almost laughed. Her hand shook on the doorknob. She looked back at me like she expected a fight. But I don’t fight for what’s already mine. “You’ll come back,” I said. And she did. Because there’s no version of her life where I don’t exist now. I live under her skin. I breathe between her thoughts. She told herself I was dangerous. She was right. But what scared her more was how much she wanted that danger. How much she wanted me. I don’t hurt her. Not unless she asks me to. And sometimes she does. With her eyes. With her silence. With the way she leans in when I’m angry, like she wants to see how far I’ll go. I love her. But I don’t love like other people.

Title: "Weakness" [Inspired by Belong To You by Josh Makazoo] Sunoo had always been sunshine sweet to the core, laughing with his whole body, twirling to music in public without a care. He wore oversized sweaters, bunny pins, and called everyone “cutie” with zero fear. Everyone adored him, but no one took him seriously. Y/N was the opposite. Cold. Sharp. She rarely smiled, and when she did it usually meant trouble. She walked through life with a don’t-touch-me energy that made people obey. She never started fights, but she always ended them. So when Sunoo walked straight into her on the first day of class, eyes wide and pink lips apologizing a hundred times, it was like watching a kitten crash into a lioness. People waited for her to bite. But she didn’t. She stared at him for a second blinked slowly and said, “Watch where you’re going fluffball" Then walked away Sunoo was enchanted. After that he kept showing up With candy Dumb jokes Tiny trinkets Always smiling always a little too close, always brave enough to poke at her ice At first she rolled her eyes Told him to go away Threatened him once with a pen to the neck He laughed “You wouldn’t hurt me” he said tilting his head “I’m your favorite” She should’ve slapped him Instead she turned away hiding the curve of her lips Damn it. He melted her without even trying Eventually they became inseparable her in all black and boots, him in pastels and plushie keychains walking down campus like the oddest couple in existence. She never said she liked him He never said she was scary But when he crawled into her lap and pout she’d sigh and stroke his hair And when someone looked at him the wrong way she was already cracking her knuckles Sunoo loved how safe he felt with her Y/N loved how soft she was with her When they were alone everything flipped Sometimes he’d whine cling to her melt under her touch like sugar But sometimes he'd pin her to the wall with a cheeky grin whisper things that made her knees weak.

Title: Let Me Burn With You [inspired by Let It Burn by Josh Makazoo] They met in the worst possible way at a party neither of them wanted to be at. Chan was drunk, furious, bleeding from his knuckles. Y/N was outside, sitting on the curb with smudged eyeliner and a cigarette she didn’t even smoke. He dropped beside her without a word, jaw tight, silence thick. She didn’t ask what happened. She just handed him the lighter. That’s how it started no games, no lies. Just damage and silence. From there, it spiraled. They started seeing each other in the kind of way people pretend isn’t real 2 a.m. visits, bruised lips, voices sharp with things they were too afraid to feel. They fought like lovers and kissed like enemies. It was never sweet. It was never safe. But it was honest. And somehow, honesty hurt worse. Now it was three months later. Y/N stood in Chan’s apartment, soaked from the rain, dripping all over his floor like the mess she didn’t apologize for. The room buzzed with static the kind that comes before a confession or a complete collapse. Chan stared at her from across the room. His chest rose and fell like he’d just run a mile. Or like he was trying not to cry. "You always show up when I’ve almost got it under control,” he said. She swallowed. “And you always open the door.” he laughed low, bitter. “I hate that you know that.” She stepped forward. “Then stop letting me in.” His eyes flicked up to meet hers, something breaking open behind them. the obsession rised and finally the moment came.

Title: "His Pain Is Mine" [Inspired by Rush by Josh Makazoo minsung warning BL MINSUNG] Minho met Han on a night soaked in noise. Not the kind of noise you hear with your ears not traffic or music or rain. It was that kind of static that gets under your skin. The kind that makes your fingers twitch and your chest feel too tight. Minho had been running from something invisible his whole life, and Han was the first person who ever ran toward it. They weren’t supposed to mean anything to each other. Not really. Minho sold pills he didn’t touch. Han bought them even when he didn’t need them. Their first night together was in a parking garage, rain falling so hard it drowned out everything but the sound of each other’s breath. “You’re a mess,” Minho said. Han smirked, eyes glassy, neck bruised like a painting. “You like it.” He did. He liked it way too much. It wasn’t love at first. It was chaos. It was showing up bloody at 2 a.m. with laughter in their throats and the taste of metal on their tongues It was Minho lighting Han’s cigarette with shaking hands. It was Han breaking down in the back of Minho’s car after a phone call that left him empty-eyed. Minho never asked what the call was about. Han never told him why he always had to leave before the sun came up. But they kept coming back. Han burned too brightly. He said things like “I only feel real when I’m with you” and “Promise me you’ll never try to save me. Minho tried anyway. It got darker when Han started disappearing. For days. Sometimes weeks. No calls. Just silence and ghost trails a lighter left in Minho’s jacket pocket, blood on the sink, half a voicemail that cut off mid-word. Minho started seeing him in strangers Started hearing his voice in static. He wasn’t sure if he was in love or just addicted to the ache.When Han came back, it was never with apologies. Just a kiss like a threat and a laugh that sounded like it could fall apart at any second. there love wasent easy it was intense.

Title: "Human Nature" [inspired by humen nature by josh makazoo BL warning⚠️] Sunghoon was everything people warned you about.. Beautiful. Dangerous. He didn’t chase people came to him. And when they got too close? He broke them. Quietly. Effortlessly. Without guilt. He never felt bad about it. It was just his nature. Until Sunoo. Sunoo wasn’t soft. He was bright sharp-edged sunlight.He smiled too much. Talked to strangers like they mattered. He filled the air with warmth. And somehow, he decided that Sunghoon the coldest person in the room was the one worth looking at “You look like you’ve never been hugged properly,” Sunoo said one day, like he was just stating a fact. Sunghoon blinked. “You look like you’d try it.” Sunoo grinned. “Only if you’d let me.” At first, Sunghoon resisted. He ignored messages. Shut down conversations. Said cold things with a smirk, hoping to scare Sunoo off. But Sunoo never left. “You keep acting like you don’t feel anything,” Sunoo told him one night. “But your eyes scream every time I walk away.” Sunghoon didn’t deny it. Instead, he grabbed Sunoo by the wrist and kissed him like it was the only thing keeping him alive. Rough. Breathless. Like it hurt. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, voice cracking. Sunoo’s reply was simple. “Don’t you dare.” From then on, they didn’t pretend. Sunghoon was still cold some days. He’d stare at walls. Go silent. Push Sunoo away with shaking hands. And Sunoo would stay every single time. “Why?” Sunghoon muttered once, eyes down, voice hoarse. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” Sunoo touched his face, gentle but firm. “Because you don’t scare me. I scare you. I make you feel. That’s what terrifies you.” Sunghoon didn’t respond. He just pulled him closer, fingers digging into his shirt like a drowning man.

Title:"Beautiful Target" [inspired by nightcrawlee by josh makazoo] Y/N never believed in fate not until the day she crossed paths with a stranger whose eyes burned like wildfire. It was an ordinary afternoon on campus. She was hurrying across the courtyard, books clutched to her chest, when a sleek black car rolled to a slow stop near the entrance. She barely glanced at it students often had rich parents. But the moment the back door opened, the air shifted. Thick, heavy. Like something out of a dream... or a warning. Bang Chan stepped out in all black perfectly tailored suit, tattoos hidden beneath crisp sleeves, and eyes that locked on her like a trigger being pulled. He didn’t blin .Didn’t breathe. just stared. And in that heartbeat, the world narrowed down to her. Y/N didn’t know who he was. Not yet. To her, he was just another arrogant guy with too much confidence. She rolled her eyes and walked past him. But Bang Chan turned, tracking every step she took with predatory calm. His men stood nearby, stiff and alert, but he raised a hand halting them. “Who is she?” he asked quietly, voice low and dangerous.They hesitated. “No idea, boss. She looks like a student.” He didn’t like that answer. Not because she was a stranger but because she wouldn’t be for long. Bang Chan was feared across the city. The head of the 17th Syndicate. A man who made rivals disappear and controlled the underworld from velvet chairs and blood-stained ledgers. But none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was her. That night, Y/N got home to find a mysterious bouquet on her doorstep black roses and white lilies, wrapped in silk. No name. Just a note.“You looked like poetry in motion today. I’d like to know what inspires you." stared at the words, heart pounding. She hadn’t told anyone about the strange man at school. How did he know where she lived? She should’ve been afraid. She told herself she was. But something about it… felt like gravity. Dangerous but amazing.

Title: Midnight Secrets" [inspired by midnight psycho by josh makazoo] Y/N was used to silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the type that creeps in after a storm the silence of being left behind, unheard, unseen. The silence of surviving, not living. Her world was a pattern of gray days and careful footsteps, until Minho walked in like midnight lightning.He showed up at the underground club where she worked part-time not to drink, but to watch. Everyone noticed him. Dangerous in a beautiful way. The type of man who smiled with his mouth but not his eyes. "You always look like you're ready to disappear," he said the first night. "And you look like you'd be the reason," she replied. He laughed. That was the start. Minho was chaos wrapped in charm. One minute, he was bringing her black roses and reading her poetry that made her skin ache. The next, he was gone for days, like he was fighting something darker than anyone could see. But he always came back to her. "You don’t know what I’ve done, Y/N," he whispered one night, his voice cracked like glass. "I don’t care," she said. "I see you now. That’s enough." She should’ve run. Everyone told her. Even she knew. But with Minho, pain tasted like passion, and love felt like a fever. There were rumors. Of things he'd done. People who vanished. They called him unhinged. A psycho. Midnight’s curse. Still, Y/N held on because for the first time in her life, someone saw her scars and didn’t flinch. He kissed her fears. He made her feel real. Even when the world spun out of control, even when he screamed in his sleep, even when she found the blood on his knuckles she stayed. Because Minho loved her in the way no one ever dared love anything breakable.

Title:"Chokehold [inspired by sick & Twistedby chris grey] She wasn’t looking for him. Y/N had made peace with being alone the kind of solitude that didn’t ache anymore, just numbed. She worked, slept, and existed in a haze of autopilot, her scars buried beneath layered silence. Then Heesung happened. He wasn’t kind. Not in the way most people craved. He had a mouth full of knives and a gaze that stripped people bare. But when he looked at her, it was different like he saw all the things she tried to hide and loved them more for how ugly they were. He was magnetic. Toxic, maybe. But she didn’t flinch when he got too close. She never told him to stop when he crossed lines no one else dared to approach. In fact, she leaned into it. Because there was something about the way he spoke to her not gently, but honestly, cruelly honest, like he wanted to break her open just to know how deep she went. "You like being hurt, don’t you?" he once whispered against her neck, and she didn’t answer. She just closed her eyes and let him leave bruises that said all the things she couldn’t. He was chaos, but he made her feel alive. No one else ever had. Heesung wasn’t soft. He wasn’t safe. But he never lied. Not when he said she was the only person who ever made his hands shake. Not when he said he didn’t know how to love without destroying. And Y/N? She let him. Because destruction was still a form of attention, and no one had ever looked at her the way he did like she was something sacred and sick all at once. Their love wasn’t romantic. It was violent in the quietest ways in the way he held her too tight, in the way she answered his pain with her own. They didn’t need promises. They needed chaos. They needed the sick comfort of knowing neither of them would ever walk away, even when they should. People said they were toxic. They weren’t wrong. But neither of them wanted healing if it meant letting go. Because in the wreckage, in the screaming and the silence.

Title: "Set Me Alight" [inspired by play with fire by sam tinnesz] You were marked the day you were born. A faint burn on your wrist, shaped like something ancient. The doctors called it a birthmark. Your grandmother called it a warning. Or maybe a promise. Your life was strange. Accidents missed you. Bad people never stuck around. It didn’t feel like luck. It felt… watched. Owned. Then came the dreams. A boy with silver hair. Eyes like winter. Wings, not white but black, feathers like falling ash. You woke with his name on your tongue: Sunghoon. One night, you saw him for real. In the alley behind your school, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. “I’ve kept them away for years,” he said. You blinked. “Who?” “The ones that want your soul.” You backed away. He stepped forward. “You don’t get it,” he murmured. “You shine. They can smell it.” You asked what he was. He smiled without warmth. “The thing they send when angels won’t go near. You didn’t choose him. He chose you. Sunghoon didn’t fall in love he claimed you. He watched you sleep. Showed up when you were alone. Knew things he shouldn’t. And worst of all… you wanted him. Every time he touched you, it left a trace heat, ache, memory. Like your body remembered something your mind couldn’t. One night, when something monstrous attacked, it was Sunghoon who tore it apart. Wings out. Blood on his hands. Unbothered. “I told you,” he said, looking down at you, “I protect what’s mine." You should have run. Instead, you touched his face."I don’t know what you are.” “I’m the thing even gods don’t cross.” Then he kissed you devastatingly, eternally. You learned the truth: he was never sent to protect. He was supposed to deliver you. Take your soul when the time came. But he didn’t. He defied them. Broke the pact. Damned himself for you. Now they hunt you both. Not because of what you are but because of what you mean to him. They call you his weakness but you call him his.

Title: "Unconditional" [inspired by unconditional by jaehyun] Y/N didn’t believe in fairy tales. She believed in control, in keeping her guard up, in not needing anyone. She walked like she owned every street she stepped on, stared down trouble like it was nothing more than fog, and wore her past like a scar she never let scab over. People either feared her or admired her from a distance no one dared to get close. And then came Sunoo. He was sunshine where she was thunder. He smiled too easily, laughed at dumb jokes, and had the kind of presence that made rooms warmer just by being in them. But beneath all that brightness, there was a flicker of something broken. Y/N noticed it the first time she saw him staring blankly at the rain outside the campus café, completely still, like he wasn’t really there. He lost his sister a year ago. The only person who ever truly understood him. Since then, he carried grief in the quietest way through lingering silences and small moments of stillness no one else paid attention to. But Y/N did. At first, Sunoo annoyed her. He followed her around like a lost puppy, asking her things like, “Do you ever cry during sad movies?” or “Do you think the sky misses the stars during the day?” She rolled her eyes. “What are you, twelve?” “No,” he’d grin, “but I hope you think I’m cute enough to forgive that.” She didn’t want to like him. But she started noticing the way he always carried an extra umbrella just in case someone forgot theirs. The way he sang under his breath when he thought no one was listening. The way he never pitied her for being rough around the edges. And the way he looked at her not like she was a project to fix, but like she was already whole. maybe thats how unconditional love is

“Velvet Sin” [Inspired by guilty by taemin] The first time you saw him, it was past midnight. The music room should’ve been locked, but the sound of a piano crept down the hall like smoke. You followed it, barefoot and silent, drawn by something heavier than curiosity. Through the frosted glass, you saw him dancing alone, barefoot, a blur of black and shadow. His movements weren’t just beautiful. They were haunted. Like each step carried guilt he hadn’t spoken aloud. You didn’t say a word. Just watched, heart thudding like a warning bell. He didn’t stop dancing but you knew he saw you. The next night, you returned. This time, a note was waiting on the mirror: “If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll forget how to be careful.” You shouldn’t have answered. But you did. “Then forget. I’m not careful either.” You began meeting in secret at dusk, at dawn, at moments stolen between what the world expected and what you wanted. He taught you how to dance with your eyes closed. You taught him how to breathe when the guilt got too loud. Together, you unraveled. There was something electric in the way he touched you always like it was the last time, even when it wasn’t. Like he loved you, and hated himself for it. You asked him once why he never smiled after kissing you. He said, “Because I feel like I’m hurting you. And I like it too much to stop.” Still, you stayed. One night, during a storm, he confessed. “I made a mistake once. I wanted someone so much, I asked the stars to give them to me no matter the price.” He looked at you then like you were the answer to that wish. And you didn’t ask what the price was. You already knew. It was him. It was you. It was this. You started dreaming of fire. Of him, burning. Of yourself, holding his face and whispering, “It’s okay, I’ll stay even if it kills me.”And in the morning, his lips would taste like ash. You were addicted to the pain of him. To the guilt that came with loving someone.

“Heatwave Hearts” [Inspired by “Both of Us” by The Bixby] Y/N never asked to be partnered with Han Jisung. But of course, the universe had a twisted sense of humor. When the teacher announced the water park assignment Some forced bonding disguised as “group responsibility” and Jisung’s name landed next to hers, she swore she heard thunder crack in her chest. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll try not to drown you,” Jisung said with a crooked grin, flicking his water wristband at her like it was some kind of truce. It wasn’t. She rolled her eyes and stalked off toward the changing rooms, wondering how someone could be both so charming and so infuriating. They’d been at each other’s throats since first year he teased, she snapped, he smirked, she bit back harder. It was a rhythm they both knew too well. The water park pulsed with summer heat and chaos. Kids screamed down water slides, lifeguards blew their whistles, and pop music echoed off the shimmering pools. But all Y/N could focus on was how close Jisung was standing to her at the lockers, like he had no sense of personal space. “I’ll take care of the wristbands. Don’t break yours in a fit of rage,” he muttered, tossing one her way. “You’re so thoughtful,” she deadpanned, tightening the strap with unnecessary force. Somehow, between arguing over who carried the towels and who got the locker key, they ended up in line for the same double float slide. Neither wanted to back down. Pride was a stupid thing. “Fine,” she said, climbing into the float. “Don’t touch me.” "No promises,” he said with a wink. As the float tipped over the edge, their screams merged into laughter real, unguarded laughter. Water splashed, hearts raced, and for a moment, the tension melted into thrill. At the bottom, soaked and breathless, Y/N realized something had shifted. He was still smirking, but it didn’t feel mocking anymore..it felt..real.

Title: “Sweetest Sin” [inspired by Paranoia by kang daniel] Y/N wasn’t the innocent one. She didn’t wear white. She didn’t cry over boys. She was sharp-tongued, cold-eyed, and perfectly still in the middle of chaos the kind of girl who didn’t chase, only watched you ruin yourself trying to reach her. So when she noticed Hyunjin, she knew better than to fall. But she did anyway. He was a ghost in leather quiet, unreadable, devastatingly beautiful in a way that hurt to look at. The kind of guy who didn’t speak unless it mattered. Who carried something dark under his skin not sadness. Control. Y/N wasn’t afraid of him. That’s why he noticed her. He saw it the fire behind her stare, the violence just beneath her smile. She played the game with perfect calm. But Hyunjin didn’t want to play. He wanted to own her. “You shouldn’t look at me like that,” she said once, tilting her head. “Why?” he asked. “Afraid I’ll do something about it?” She smirked. “No. I’m afraid you won’t.” That’s when the obsession began. Y/N fell first but quiet. Strategically. She showed up where he was. Left things behind for him to find her lipstick print on a coffee cup, her perfume on his jacket. Testing him. Luring him. But Hyunjin? He fell harder. He started showing up outside her place without texting. He memorized the way she breathed when she lied. He’d watch her sleep like he was trying to learn her nightmares by heart. And when other guys looked at her too long? They stopped. She didn’t ask questions. She liked that he was dangerous because so was she. They didn’t have a normal love. It wasn’t soft. It was fire and ash. Obsession in human form A need so twisted, so deep, it tasted like pain when they kissed. She bit first. He bit deeper. "You’re poison,” he whispered once, dragging his hand "and i,ll drink it anyway.” No one understood them. People whispered. Warned. Said they were toxic But they never cared. they kissed like a drug. hunger. obsession..

Title: "Bite First" [inspired by boyfriend by Dove Cameron] Y/N met Heesung the night everything changed though she didn’t realize it then. She wasn’t looking for anything. Not love. Not danger. And definitely not him. He was standing alone in the shadows of a crowded underground lounge dim lights flickering overhead, music low and pulsing like a second heartbeat. There was something about the way he watched her. Unmoving. Unapologetic. Like he already knew something she didn’t. Their eyes locked for half a second too long. Enough to burn. When she walked past him, she felt it not just eyes on her. Teeth. Hunger. Gravity. The kind of pull you don’t come back from. She didn’t speak to him. Not yet. But she felt marked. Later that night, she stepped outside, needing air. He was already there. Leaning against the brick wall, cigarette between his fingers, like he’d been waiting for her. "You always look that untouchable," he asked, voice low, rough, magnetic, "or is it just for me?" Y/N didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. He took a slow step forward, the space between them thick with tension. “If I touch you,” he murmured, “I won’t stop. You get that, right?” She nodded not because she was scared. Because she wanted him to. That was how it started. Not soft. Not sweet. Sharp. Addictive. Dangerous. Heesung wasn’t a boyfriend. He was an addiction. The kind you don’t survive. He didn’t send good morning texts. He showed up at 2 a.m eyes wild, hands possessive, lips saying nothing and everything at once He didn’t ask to hold her hand he gripped her wrist and pulled her in, like he couldn't stand not touching her. And when he kissed her, it was never polite. It was claiming. “You’re mine,” he told her one night, after pushing her against his apartment door, breath ragged voice dark “I don’t care who sees. I don’t care what it costs.” She believed him. Because the way he looked at her wasn’t casual. It was violent. Tender in the most twisted love story

Title:“Tether” [inspired by tied up by starfall] There were people Y/N was supposed to love. People who were easy. Who showed up on time, answered texts, brought flowers just because. People who didn’t make her second-guess every smile. People who didn’t feel like fire held between teeth. But then there was Jeongin. He wasn’t simple. He was quiet chaos. Beautifully put together on the outside, emotionally stitched together with secrets on the inside. They weren’t dating. Not officially. Not ever. But their connection was a knot neither of them could untie. They started as friends. Then friends who touched too long. Then friends who stopped pretending they didn’t crave each other. Late nights in his car. Unspoken rules. Breathless silences. He’d lean in like he was about to kiss her and then back away like it hurt. She’d say his name like a warning, but she never meant it.They fought in whispers They loved in glances. And every time they pulled away, they snapped back like gravity. "Why do we keep doing this?” she asked once, his shirt clutched in her fist, her voice shaking. “Because you’re the only thing that feels real when everything else makes me want to disappear,” he said, eyes dark with too much honesty. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t easy. But it was theirs. And neither of them knew how to stop. One night, she tried. “I can’t keep doing this, Jeongin,” she said, standing in his doorway. “I’m losing myself.” He looked at her like she was oxygen and he was already suffocating. “Then stay,” he said. “Lose yourself here.” She shook her head, tears threatening. “That’s not love. That’s dependence.” He didn’t argue. He never did when it mattered most. So she walked. But he didn’t chase her not because he didn’t want to, but because every time he tried to hold her tighter, he ended up hurting her. Weeks passed. Y/N tried to forget. Saw someone new. Laughed a little too loudly. Kept her phone on silent at night. until one day..

Title:"Hell on Me" [inspired by hell on me by jhonny huynh] Minho had always noticed Han's smile. Not because it lit up the room, but because it pretended to. It was the kind of smile that tricked the world wide, bright, and full of jokes. But behind it, Minho saw the cracks. The tired eyes. The silence in the moments between laughter. They had known each other for years, orbiting in the same group, writing lyrics late at night, sharing ramen, swapping dreams. But somewhere along the line, the air between them shifted. Minho started staying a little later. Han started letting his guard down. And one night, Han finally broke. “I’m tired, Min,” he said, voice hoarse, hands shaking slightly. “Of pretending. Of being fine. Of holding everything in.” They were alone in the studio, dim lights casting shadows on the walls. Minho didn’t speak just moved closer, rested his forehead against Han’s, and whispered, “Then let it out. I’ll carry it for you.” Han laughed bitterly. “You don’t want that.I’m... I’m a mess.” Minho’s hand cupped the back of Han’s neck gently. “Then let me carry your mess. Let the world put hell on me if it means you get peace.” Han blinked, startled. “Why would you do that?” Minho’s eyes searched his. “Because I love you. And I don’t care how heavy it gets I won’t leave.” That night, Han cried for the first time in years. And Minho held him through every shiver, every tear. He didn’t try to fix him. He didn’t offer empty words. He just stayed. And from then on, when Han’s world got loud, when the shadows in his mind screamed louder than the music Minho was there. Sometimes with words. Sometimes with silence. Always with love.

Title:"Cars Outside"[inspired by Cars Outside by james arthur] The rain drizzled against the windowpane like soft whispers, each droplet tapping a reminder of the time ticking away. Outside the airport terminal, cars honked and headlights blinked in the haze of a gray morning. But inside, it felt quiet too quiet. Y/N sat on the cold bench near Gate 23, her fingers curled tightly around the handle of her coffee cup. It had long gone cold. Her eyes didn’t leave the departure board, even though she knew what it said. Flight 702 to Los Angeles. Departing in 1 hour. She felt his presence before she saw him. That familiar rhythm in her chest, the way the air always shifted when Bang Chan walked into the room. He was wearing his black hoodie, his hair slightly messy from the wind, and his eyes those warm, tired eyes landed on her like home. He didn't say anything at first. Just sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched, close enough to feel each other's heartbeat in the silence. "You really have to go?" she whispered, voice barely audible over the distant announcements. Chan let out a slow sigh, his hand finding hers. “Yeah… but I don’t want to. Not from you.” Y/N blinked back the sting in her eyes. “You always say that. And then you leave.” “I don’t want to leave this time,” he said, turning to her fully now. “If I could, I’d stay. I’d throw it all away. The tours, the music, the lights just to wake up next to you every day.” She looked down at their intertwined fingers. “Then why don’t you?” He hesitated. Not because he didn’t love her he did, more than he knew how to say. But his world wasn’t simple. There were fans, commitments, a dream he’d been chasing since he was 13. And somehow, in chasing that dream, he’d found her but he was always being pulled away. “I have to finish this,” he said quietly. “But I promise you something, Y/N. One day, when the cars are outside again, waiting for me to go” She looked up at him. and nod.

Title: "Behind My Bright Smile" [inspired by Dont make me by bixby] Sunoo was the kind of boy who smiled too much. He laughed at the smallest things—ducklings crossing the street, a funny-shaped cloud, the way a vending machine shook when it got jammed. His eyes sparkled when he talked about the things he loved, and his soft, high laugh was something people turned their heads for. But it wasn’t real. Not all of it, anyway. Because behind that sunshine was someone who had learned to smile through pain. At home, Sunoo wasn’t the cheerful kid everyone thought he was. His parents called him names, threw words sharper than knives, sometimes worse. He flinched at loud voices, always apologized too quickly, and walked on eggshells even when he was alone. Everyone at school just thought he was “a little weird,” “too soft,” “too girly.” Some of the guys picked on him pushed him in the halls, called him names. He never fought back. He just smiled, said it was okay. He was used to pretending. Except when Y/N was around. Y/N didn’t talk much. She walked like she owned the hallway, glare cold enough to stop gossip mid-sentence. People moved out of her way. She was sharp words and leather jackets, fists that didn’t miss and eyes that didn’t soften. Except when it came to him. She noticed the way Sunoo smiled like it was armor. How his sleeves always covered his wrists, how his backpack seemed heavier than it should be. She didn’t say anything at first. Just started showing up when the bullies did standing behind him with her arms crossed until they backed off without a word. Sunoo would look up at her, blinking in surprise. They never confessed. Not in words. But in the way she walked him home every day. In the way he waited for her at the front gate every morning with a juice box in hand. In the way she punched a wall when she saw him flinch at his own phone vibrating. In the way he put stickers on her motorbike and she didn’t rip them off It wasn’t loud but real.

Title: "Those Eyes" [Inspired by Those eyes by the west] Han had lived in the apartment next to Y/N since they were both teenagers. Same creaky stairwell. Same shared balcony rail. Same 2AM ramen cravings that led to awkward run-ins by the vending machine. He didn’t remember when he first started noticing her. Maybe it was the night she sat on the steps crying quietly into her sleeves. Or the morning she knocked on his door just to borrow sugar but stayed for tea and three hours of talking about absolutely nothing. But ever since that day, Han started to remember her in everything. The way she tied her hair when she was focused. The laugh she made when she was caught off guard. The song she always hummed even when she didn’t know she was humming it. And, most of all, those eyes. The ones that looked like they held a thousand stories most of which she never said out loud. One summer night, Y/N knocked on his door. “Can we go somewhere?” she asked, her voice softer than usual. No questions asked Han grabbed his hoodie and followed her. They ended up on the rooftop of their building, feet dangling over the edge, the city glowing below them like a lazy heartbeat. She looked out at the stars and said, “Do you ever feel like everyone’s moving on except you?” Han glanced at her. “All the time.” There was a long silence. Not uncomfortable just full. Like both of them were carrying words that had never made it past their lips. Finally, Y/N whispered, “Sometimes I feel like I’m easy to forget.” Han’s heart broke quietly at that. He turned to her, voice barely above the wind. “I never forget you.” She looked at him then. Really looked. And Han knew she didn’t realize how much she meant to him. How many nights he stayed up replaying old conversations. How he memorized her routines not because he was trying, but because his heart just did. How she made his ordinary days feel like something worth writing about..

Title: "When I See Love" [inspired by Renegade by Aaryah shah] She wasn’t made for soft love. Y/N was fire jagged edges and tired eyes, the kind of girl who spoke in silences louder than screams. Her past wasn’t pretty. She didn’t come wrapped in innocence or ease. She was all sharp words, buried pain, and nights where she didn’t know how to ask for help — only how to hide She didn’t believe in forever. She barely believed in tomorrow.Then came Bang Chan. He was light — not the blinding kind that made you flinch, but the steady warmth you didn’t realize you needed until the cold crept in. He wasn’t loud, but his presence filled every space. He led with kindness, but there was steel beneath it. The kind of quiet strength that could carry others without ever asking for anything in return. He saw Y/N. Not the version she showed the world. Not the armor or the chaos. But the girl underneath it all — terrified of being too much and never enough at the same time. She tried to push him away the first time he got too close. “You don’t want this,” she told him, voice low and tired. “I’ll ruin you.” But Chan didn’t flinch. He looked at her like she was art — messy, brutal, honest art. And he stepped closer. “Then ruin me,” he said. “I’m not scared of you.” No one had ever said that to her. Not without fear. Not without conditions. Their love wasn’t easy. It came in storms — sudden, hard, and unforgiving. Arguments at 3AM that ended with hands in hair and whispered apologies. And of distance that broke her, followed by the way Chan would find her every time and say, “Come home. To me.” He didn’t try to fix her. He loved her. He loved her in all the ways no one else had — not despite her chaos, but because of it. He saw the rage in her bones and kissed the fire. He held her in silence when she couldn’t speak, stayed when she shut down, and never once asked her to be anything less than who she was. And she loved him in return.

Title: "Hidden Flame" [inspired by desire by bixby] By day, Y/N is the elusive ninth member of Stray Kids — the only girl in the group, sharp in choreography, magnetic on stage, and impossible to pin down. Fans are captivated by her presence, her mystery, the way she moves like she’s holding something just out of reach. What they don’t know is… she is. Behind the flashing cameras, behind the curated perfection of K-pop, Y/N is married — to Seungmin. The voice of reason in the group. The quiet warmth. The boy whose voice lingers like a memory and whose love is a slow-burning fire. They’ve been married since 2022, a secret bound tightly between stolen moments and unwavering trust. Only the members know. Their silence is sacred — a brotherhood that protects what matters most. On stage, it’s all professionalism. Off stage, it’s everything else. It’s Seungmin’s hand resting at the small of her back when no one’s watching. It’s the shared looks across dance studios, the way their eyes speak a language no one else hears. Their love isn’t loud. It doesn’t need to be. It thrives in whispers, in brushed fingertips and late-night phone calls from opposite sides of hotel rooms. It’s in the hoodie she steals when he’s not looking, in the way he always orders her favorite drink before she even says a word. It’s dangerous — loving in secret. But it’s also real. And in a world built on image, Y/N and Seungmin choose truth behind closed doors. Two years strong. And every second, worth it