hii if requests are open (and youâre comfortable with it ofc) cab i pretty pls request an angsty fic about maybe a sasaeng breaking into readers house/hotel room and idk just the members beung protective haha
i love your work đ«¶đ«¶
hello!! thank you for your compliment hehe 𫶠much love~
[DISCLAIMER: i've read a prompt like this a while back, however i forgot the exact details and user of the original writer who wrote about it. if any of you remember please let me know i'll be sure to tag the original ><
edit: a kind reader helped me find it! the original is 'Intruder in the dark' by @scoupsakakitty. click this for their original fic, please check it out as well~]
this scene is written entirely by me (with inspiration by the orig. creator) thank youuâ
Warnings: s*saeng (booo tomatox3), breaking and entering, small injury, read with caution!
-- àȘââŽÂ°â
The hallway was quiet when everyone stepped out of the elevator. A small wave and mutters of goodbyes echoed as the members left for their own rooms.
Your hoodie was still damp at the collar from post-concert sweat, and your legs ached after hours of dancing. Tugging your keycard out the lanyard, you rubbed at your tired eyes as you reached the door.
Room 1714.
The familiar green beep clicked, and you pushed the door open.
The room was dark, only the faint amber glow of the city lights filtering through the sheer curtains. You didnât bother turning on the lights - it seemed too tiring. But when you took the first step in, the back of your neck prickled.
Something was wrong.
The room looked, at first glance, exactly as you'd left it that morning. The bed was neatly made, the curtains drawn, the complimentary water bottles untouched on the bedside table. It wasn't just the air conditioning; it was a deeper, unsettling sensation. The kind that made a chill sneak its way up your spine.
You walked toward the bed, senses on high alert. The duvet was perfectly smooth, but was the pillow fluffed just a little too much? You remembered leaving it slightly dented while getting up from your morning stretch.
Your purse - left hanging on the armchair when you left this morning - was now on the floor, contents half-spilled out. Did you knock it over when you rushed out?
A sweater, once folded on the bed, was crumpled in the corner of the room floor.
It was such a minor detail, easily dismissed as your own forgetfulness, but the unease persisted. There was a feeling. Like the air had been disturbed, the molecules rearranged by an unwelcome presence.
Your forced yourself to swallow whatever doubts you had as your hand hovered near the switch, finally flicking on the lights.
Ruffled pillow. Spilled purse. Phone charger unplugged. The mirror slightly tilted. Everything slightlyâŠwrong.
It was tiny. Insignificant. But combined with the other small changes, it formed a terrifying mosaic in your mind.
Someone had been in the room.
Someone who definitely shouldn't have been.
And they had tried to make it look like they hadn't.
The realization hit you with the force of a physical blow. Your breath caught in your throat, blood running cold. You hadn't been alone.
Or rather, you were not alone.
You took a shaky step backwards, toward the door.
That was, when a hand wrapped around your wrist - all your senses jumping to life.
Appearing from a blindspot behind the wall of the bathroom, a man's force yanked your arm back, hard. You tumbled to the floor with a loud thud, head spinning as you landed on your back. A scream tore through your throat - only to be quickly smothered by a gloved hand pressing against your mouth, rough and smelling faintly of disinfectant, muffling any sound.
Before you could react, he was climbing over your torso, his weight pressing you down, stealing whatever breath you had left. Your wrists were seized in an iron grip, pinned above your head, held so tightly you could already feel the angry beginnings of bruises forming.
His eyes were scary - sinister. Hiding just enough for your body to start shaking uncontrollably. Your eyes closed on instinct when he leaned down, his face a dark, indistinct blur above you, breath warm and tickling your ear.
âIâve been waiting for you,â he whispered against your ear, the wind tickling your skin. âYou have no idea how long.â
You shook your head, eyes darting around frantically for an escape as tears welled up, fear surging like fire through your veins. But there was only the oppressive weight of his body and the terrifying, terrifying, intimacy of his voice.
âDon't be so cold. I know you get off work at this time every day. I've been following you for a few days now.â His voice suddenly lowered, âYou looked so good in your blue sweater yesterday.â
You writhed, thrashing beneath him, screams muffled as your heart beat so violently you could hear it in your ears.
âWe're a match made in heaven. Donât you know that?â
Move. Move. Think.
A flicker of raw, desperate anger ignited within you. You weren't going to let this be your end. Not here. Not like this. The adrenaline surged, sharp and hot.
With a sudden, violent twist, you yanked one wrist free from his loosening grasp, the bruising pain a dull ache against the urgency to survive.
You fumbled the floor around you, feeling the rough carpet that scratched your skin, blindly searching â reaching out, your fingers wrapped around the cool, smooth shape of a glass cup, one that must've rolled off when you crashed against the table before.
Without thinking, you swung.
The smash echoed as the cup shattered against his temple, shards cutting skin. The grip on your wrist finally gave way as he recoiled, clutching his head, a dark stain rapidly spreading on his gloves.
Your hands weren't spared either â drops of blood rolling to your elbow while pain seared your fingertips. But you couldn't feel any of it, not right now.
You kicked hard, enough for him to roll off with a yelp.
Scrambling out from under him, you crawled toward the door with your palms scraped and bleeding. You didnât look back. You couldnât.
You yanked the door open with trembling hands - and ran like never before.
.
The crash had startled most of the floor. Staff were poking their heads out, some murmuring about the noise, but some retreated quickly, not wanting to intrude.
A few doors down, the members had already stirred, stepping out their own rooms.
âDid something fall?â Jun muttered, wandering out in a white tee and sweats.
âI heard glass,â Seungcheol said, appearing from the room beside him. âWaitââ
Thatâs when they saw you.
Barreling down the hallway barefoot, eyes wide, hair a mess, breath ragged as if you couldnât get air into your lungs.
You turned back occasionally, a quick, fearful glance over the shoulder, convinced the man was right behind you, his chilling whispers still echoing in your ears.
Your legs only stopped moving when you slammed into someone - arms, chest - someone solid. The impact knocked the wind out of you.
âWhat's goingââ It was Wonwoo.
He was cut off by your scream as you pushed away. "Get away from me!" Your voice was raw and hoarse, instinctively pushing and flailing, your hands coming up in a desperate attempt to fend off whoever had stood in your way.
Wonwoo fought your fists, grabbing your arms as his own ones caged you in, forcing your thrashing to come to a halt.
âItâs me, Wonwoo. Itâs just me.â
A voice, familiar and deep, began to murmur, slowly, gently, cutting through the fog of panic.
âCan you look at me?â
You paused as your vision cleared, his familiar face grounding your sanity. You collapsed into him immediately, sobbing, clutching his shirt with trembling fingers. You cried into his shoulder, pointing a trembling hand back down the hallway toward your room, stuttering out broken words between gasps.
âHeâ he was inâ he grabbedâ he was in my room-â
Wonwoo caught you again, wrapping both arms around you protectively as your knees gave out. âWhat? Who?!â
The words sent a shockwave through the group for a second â but the members moved instantly.
âGet a blanket. Someone call security- NOW!â Seungcheol barked, eyes wide.
Jun knelt beside you, holding your uninjured hand as he gently stroked your back, whispering: âYouâre okay now. Weâve got you. Whoever it is, heâs not getting near you again.â
Mingyu and Dokyeom quickly formed a physical barrier around you and Wonwoo, their large frames blocking any view down the hallway towards your room.
âMinghao and Seokmin went down to the lobby!â Chan called from the elevator lobby, rushing back after hearing the panic.
Joshua was already on the hotel phone, voice urgent but eerily calm. âYes, a break-in. Sheâs hurt. We need security and the police.â
The hallway was chaos, but around you, it was shielded - every member blocking the world from getting any closer to you.
And just minutes later, hotel security arrived, followed closely by staff and local authorities. The masked man was found still inside your room, disoriented and bleeding from his temple.
Still, your head rang when his voice boomed throughout the floor. âWe belong together! Wait for me my love!â
.
You sat on Seungcheol's bed, now changed into a clean sweatshirt that belonged to Joshua, wrapped in a blanket and cradling a heat pack in your lap.
Your hands still trembled.
But you werenât alone.
Wonwoo hadnât left your side once. Hoshi sat on the floor by your feet, rubbing slow circles into your ankle. Mingyu had your hand in his, carefully cleaning the small cuts and scrapes on your hands â the remnants of your desperate struggle. His touch was gentle as he dabbed away the last traces of blood and shards that had embedded themselves. It hurt, of course, but exhaustion overtook every bone in your body.
Across the room, Seungcheol and Jihoon were already deep in hushed conversation, strategizing. They were setting up surveillance shifts, ensuring someone would be by your side through the night. No one had to say it aloud; the unspoken fear of the stalker's words still hung heavy.
They didnât say much after.
None of them needed to.
Because every quiet glance, every hand on your shoulder, every member sitting in the room long after midnight without saying a word - it all said the same thing:
You were safe, and no one will ever lay a hand on you again.
--
every situation has its repercussions
