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I’m so, so glad you enjoyed it! Feel free to request again! 🫶

──── * ˚ ✦ THE LAST STRAW ( stray kids )

❛ After a final argument with your toxic, manipulative mother over your irresponsible younger brother, you decide to cut ties with your family, only to be overwhelmed by doubt and panic until your supportive boyfriend, Felix, reassures you that choosing yourself was the right decision.

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 14 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Here's a wonderful request made by @lixies-favorite-cookie! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Non-Idol AU, emotional abuse, family conflict, mommy issues, mental health struggles, parental neglect, parental favoritism, depression and self-worth issues, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

The kitchen feels like a war zone, the air thick with unsaid accusations and the sharp remnants of long-festered wounds. Your mother stands at the sink, her back rigid and unforgiving, hands submerged in soapy water as she scrubs a dish with a ferocity that speaks louder than words. Each stroke of her hand seems to scrape away at the silence, but instead of clarity, it only stirs the storm between you. You can almost see the tension rippling off her like waves of heat from a furnace, feeding the blaze that has been building in your chest, threatening to consume you.

“So, that’s it?” you ask, your voice taut, straining against the anger simmering just below the surface. “You’re really going to ignore everything I’ve said and expect me to drop everything—again—to drive him around?” There’s a tremor in your tone, a plea for acknowledgment masked by the bitterness of your words. But she doesn’t turn to face you. Instead, she sighs, a heavy, exaggerated breath that fills the room with disdain, as if you are the one being irrational, ungrateful.

“He doesn’t have anyone else,” she replies, her voice dripping with exasperation, as if you should already know this. “And it’s not like it’s a big deal—you’re already out and about. What’s a little detour to help your brother?”

Her words hit you like a slap across the face, stinging and familiar. “A little detour?” you echo, a disbelieving laugh slipping out, sharp and brittle. “Mom, I have a job. I have classes. I’m barely keeping up as it is. But sure, let’s add ‘chauffeur for the man-child’ to my list of responsibilities.”

At this, she finally turns, her face set in that hardened expression you know so well—eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a thin, unforgiving line. “Don’t talk about him like that,” she snaps, her voice a low warning. “He’s your brother. He’s just going through a rough time.”

A bitter, exhausted laugh escapes your lips, and you can feel the years of buried frustration rising up, threatening to overflow. "A rough time?" you repeat, your voice growing louder, each word carrying the weight of all the grievances you’ve kept bottled up for so long. “He’s been ‘going through a rough time’ for the last five years! And every single time he screws up, you’re right there, wiping his slate clean, making excuses for him. He never has to face the consequences of anything, and somehow, I’m always the one left to pick up the pieces!”

Your voice cracks, and the room seems to tremble with the force of your words. All the times you’ve been overlooked, all the sacrifices you’ve made without a second thought, all the nights spent wondering why you were never enough—everything comes crashing down in this moment. You stand there, breathless, waiting for something, anything, that resembles an acknowledgment of what you’ve endured.

But she doesn’t see it. She doesn’t hear it. She doesn’t even flinch. And that, more than anything, is what breaks you.

"That's not true," your mother snaps, her voice cutting through the air like the crack of a whip, cold and biting. "You don’t know what he’s going through. You’ve always been so hard on him, never understanding." Her words hang in the air, thick with accusation, and you feel a familiar frustration beginning to coil tightly in your chest.

You scoff, the sound escaping before you can stop it, disbelief etched across your face. "Understanding?" you fire back, voice laced with incredulity. "You mean like how you’re 'understanding' when he crashes his car because he was out partying, and you expect me to drop everything, put my entire life and future on hold, to make up for it? Or how you’re 'understanding' when he blows all his money on God knows what, and I’m the one who has to lend him my hard-earned cash so he can pay his rent? You’ve always been ‘understanding’ of him, but when have you ever been ‘understanding’ of me?"

For a moment, the room falls silent, heavy with the weight of everything that has been left unsaid for far too long. Your mother’s eyes flash dangerously, a mix of anger and frustration, a glare that once would have made you swallow your words, scramble to backtrack and apologize. But not today. Today, the exhaustion has settled too deeply in your bones, mingling with the anger that has simmered for years, bubbling to the surface.

"You think I don’t care about you?" she spits out, her voice rising, each word sharp and defensive. "I’ve done everything for you! You grew up with food on the table and a roof over your head. You have a job now, you’re in college, you have everything going for you. Do you think that just happened by itself?"

Her audacity stings, her self-righteousness fanning the flames inside you. Every vein feels like it’s on fire, adrenaline surging through your body. “No,” you say, voice trembling but strong, each word pushed out with a force that surprises even you. “Don’t you dare take credit for what little good I have in my life. Don’t you dare. Everything I have going for me is because I worked for it. I was the one who graduated as valedictorian in high school—not you, not him. I worked my ass off to get into college, scrapping for every scholarship I could find so I wouldn’t have to drown in debt later. I found my own place to live, found a job so I could pay my own bills, held myself together when everything around me was falling apart.”

Your words pour out like a flood, each one more bitter than the last. You can see her eyes narrowing, her lips tightening, but it only pushes you to keep going. “But you? Sure, you fed me, you put a roof over my head—like the law says you should. But you only ever noticed me when I was useful to him, when I made things easier for your golden child."

The silence that follows is deafening, filled with the echoes of things that have finally been said, the raw truth laid bare between you. The tension in the room is electric, the weight of years of imbalance, neglect, and misplaced loyalty pressing down on your shoulders. But for the first time, you feel something shift inside you—a spark of liberation, a sense that perhaps, just perhaps, you’ve finally stepped out of the shadow that has loomed over you for so long.

"You're being so selfish," she spits, her voice trembling with a barely controlled fury that makes the walls tremble. The dishes slip from her hands, clattering into the sink with a loud clank as she whirls around to face you. Her eyes are wild, nearly bulging out of her head, her face flushed with indignation. "You have no idea what it's like to be a parent, to have to make these kinds of decisions." The venom in her words seeps into the air, choking you with its bitterness.

But you don’t flinch. Your fists curl even tighter at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you stand your ground, locking eyes with her. "I'm selfish?" A bitter laugh escapes you, sharp and brittle, and you can feel the hot sting of unshed tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "Do you even hear yourself? You've spent years bending over backwards to coddle him, to fix every single one of his messes. And every time, it's me who gets caught in the crossfire. It's always me who’s expected to be the 'responsible one.' And what do I get for it? Nothing. Not a thank you, not a 'good job,' not even a fraction of the support and understanding you so eagerly throw at him."

Your mother’s hand slams down on the counter with a thunderous bang, making you jump. Her face is a twisted mask of rage and frustration. "You've always had a chip on your shoulder about him," she sneers, her tone dripping with condescension, as if speaking to a petulant child. "Maybe if you weren't so jealous—"

"Don't even start." You cut her off, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’ve kept bottled up for so long. "I'm not jealous, Mom. I'm tired. I'm tired of being the one who has to sacrifice everything while he coasts through life, knowing you’ll always be there to bail him out. I'm tired of you making me feel like I’m never enough, like I’m only here to clean up his messes and make things easier for him."

The air thickens, a suffocating silence falling between you. Your mother’s face hardens, her eyes narrowing into icy slits. "If you don't like it, then maybe you should just leave," she says, her words cutting through the tension like a knife. "You're an adult now, aren’t you? You can make your own choices."

Her words hang in the air, daring you to speak, to react. For a moment, you’re stunned, the breath catching in your throat. Then, softly, like a truth you've kept buried, you say, "Maybe I should." The words taste like freedom on your tongue, a release from years of guilt and fear. "Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep letting you use me to prop him up while you tear me down. I deserve better than this."

For a fleeting moment, something flickers in her eyes—something almost vulnerable, almost human. But it vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by the same cold indifference that has always been there. "Fine. Do what you want," she says dismissively, her tone devoid of emotion. "But don’t come crying to me when you realize you can’t handle the world I’ve protected you from."

A humorless laugh bubbles up in your throat, but you swallow it down, taking a deep breath instead. You feel the weight of years of resentment, of pain and unspoken truths, settling into place. "I won't," you reply, voice steady as a stone. "Because I've been handling the world all my life. You never protected me from it—you only ever protected your golden child. And I’m done."

You turn away, leaving her standing there, leaving behind the suffocating grip of a mother who never truly saw you. You walk out of the kitchen, out of the house that never felt like a home, and with each step, the air feels a little lighter, the world outside a little more open. For the first time, you feel the distant, hopeful glimmer of something new—something that belongs to you, and you alone.

You sit in the driver’s seat, fingers clenched around the steering wheel with a grip so tight that your knuckles have turned ghostly white. Each breath you take is shallow and ragged, barely filling your lungs. Your heart hammers in your chest, erratic and wild, a drumbeat of panic. The weight of the argument you just had with your mother crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, cold and suffocating. It presses down on you with a force that makes you feel as if you’re drowning, gasping for air but finding none.

Your eyes remain fixed on the house in front of you—your childhood home, a place that should have held comfort and warmth but instead feels like a prison. Each window, each door, every familiar detail seems to glare back at you like a hundred judgmental eyes, watching, waiting. This is where you learned the rules of a game you never asked to play. A place where love was conditional, tethered to sacrifice and silence. And now, it’s a place you’ve walked away from—perhaps for good.

Your vision blurs with unshed tears, and you let out a shaky breath that comes out more like a sob than you intended. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the sting from your eyes, but it’s useless. You can’t stay here, not in front of this house where the walls seem to whisper accusations, where every step closer feels like sinking deeper into quicksand. You can’t risk your mother storming out with that familiar fire in her eyes, her voice like a vice, twisting your emotions to suit her will.

With trembling hands, you fumble for your phone, fingers unsteady as they swipe through your contacts. You need an anchor, something to steady you before you’re pulled under by the crushing weight of it all. You find his name—Felix. Your thumb hovers for a moment, then presses the call button. You raise the phone to your ear, the screen blurring with tears as you pull out of the driveway. You don’t have a destination in mind; you just need to be moving, to put distance between you and that house.

The line rings once, twice, and with each unanswered ring, the panic coils tighter in your chest, rising into your throat like bile. What if he doesn’t pick up? What if he’s busy? What if you’re left alone with the noise in your head? But then—

"Hey, sunshine," his voice breaks through, warm and steady, like the first rays of dawn piercing through the darkest night. His tone is so familiar, so safe. "You okay? I'm just—"

You don’t let him finish. Your voice cracks as you speak, holding back the sob that threatens to spill over. "Felix...I—I did it. I told her...I told her that I'm done. I can't...I can't believe that I actually did it." The words rush out of you in a breathless stream, a confession that feels both terrifying and freeing.

There’s a pause on the other end, a silence that feels heavy with the weight of his understanding. You can almost hear him processing your words, feel the concern threading through the line. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, careful. "You talked to her?" he asks, his tone gentle yet laced with worry. "What happened?"

His question hangs in the air, pulling at your heartstrings, inviting you to pour out the torrent of emotions swirling inside you. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel like you can breathe, even if just a little, knowing that someone is there to catch you as you fall.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, a futile attempt to push back the tears that threaten to spill over. Your heart is pounding in your chest, a heavy, uneven rhythm that matches the chaos in your mind. When you open your eyes again, you force yourself to focus on the road, blinking rapidly to clear the blurriness from your vision. You suck in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, to find some semblance of calm amidst the storm raging inside you.  

"It was about my man-child of a brother again," you start, your voice wavering as you speak. Each word feels like a shard of glass, cutting through the tightness in your throat. "She wanted me to...to fucking drop everything and take care of his mess again. He crashed the damn car, and she’s not even mad at him. She was actually more pissed at me for not wanting to drive him everywhere." The bitterness in your tone is unmistakable, tinged with a raw edge of frustration that’s been simmering for far too long. "And I just...I couldn’t take it anymore, Lix. I told her I’m done. I told her I wasn’t coming back."  

Your breath hitches, and a sob finally breaks free, raw and unrestrained, as you come to a stop at a red light. The tears you've been holding back spill over, warm and unwelcome, streaking down your cheeks. "But what if I made a mistake? What if I’m wrong?" you choke out, the words heavy with doubt and fear. "I mean, they are my family at the end of the day, and I’m nothing without them. What if I...what if I shouldn’t have done this?"  

On the other end of the line, you hear a soft rustling, a familiar sound that brings a small measure of comfort. You know he’s moving, pacing like he always does when he’s worried. Felix’s voice comes through, steady and gentle, like a lifeline. "Hey, hey, take a breath for me, hmm?" he murmurs, his tone soothing. "Just breathe. In and out, yeah? I’m right here."  

You try to follow his instructions as you ease off the brake, the traffic lights changing to green. You take a deep breath in, filling your lungs, and then let it out, but the exhale is shaky, faltering, as if your body is resisting the calm he’s trying to instill. The tears keep flowing, unchecked, but his voice remains a steady anchor amidst the turbulent sea of your emotions.  

"You did the right thing, love," he continues, his voice firm with conviction—a conviction you desperately need to hear right now. "You’ve been dealing with their bullshit for so long. Too long. You deserve to let it go. You deserve to be free of it all."  

Without much thought, you turn the car to the right, feeling the pull of his reassurance guiding you, even if you’re not quite sure where you’re going. "But what if...what if Mom’s right?" you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "What if I am being selfish? I just...I grew up with this rule in my head that family always helps family, so what if I’m being a shitty person by refusing?"  

For a moment, there’s a pause, a breath of silence that hangs in the air, heavy with all the questions and fears you can’t quite voice. Felix’s next words are gentle, but they cut through that fog with a clarity that brings you back from the edge. "You’re not selfish," he says quietly but firmly. "Sometimes, family isn't about blood; it’s about who stands by you, who sees you. And you’ve been standing on your own for a long time. It’s okay to want more than just survival."  

Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting, blurring your vision as they cascade over your skin. You press the heel of your hand against your eyes, trying to stem the flow, but it’s like trying to dam a river with a single stone—futile. The weight of everything, the argument, the years of silent endurance, crashes over you in waves, threatening to pull you under. With a shaky breath, you pull onto the side of the road, the tires crunching over gravel, and the car comes to a halt. 

"I’m scared, Lix," you confess, your voice breaking, small and fragile as it escapes you. "I’m scared that I’ll regret this." The words hang in the air, and for a moment, it feels like the world is holding its breath with you. Your heart is a clenched fist in your chest, squeezing tighter with each passing second. 

Then, his voice breaks through the silence—a warm, comforting presence that feels like a soft embrace, wrapping around you when you need it most. "You won’t," he says, his tone gentle yet firm, a soothing balm for your frayed nerves. "You know why, huh? Because you’re finally choosing yourself. And that’s not something to regret, not ever. Love, I’m not trying to say it’ll be easy from now on, but you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved for who you are, not for what you can do for someone else."

A shaky breath escapes your lips, and the tightness in your chest starts to loosen, if only a little. His words are like a lifeline, grounding you, pulling you back from the edge of your doubts. Deep down, beneath the fear and the uncertainty, you know he’s right. You’ve carried this weight for so long that it feels strange to think of setting it down. But his words are a steady anchor, keeping you from drifting away. 

"Can I come over?" you ask, your voice almost a whisper, raw and vulnerable. "I don’t... I don’t want to be alone right now." The admission feels like exposing a wound, but with Felix, it’s okay. It’s always been okay.

There isn’t a moment of hesitation before he responds, his voice filled with that unwavering reassurance you’ve come to rely on. "Of course. I’m not home right now, but I was already on my way from class, so I’ll meet you there, okay? Just stay on the phone with me until I get there. We’ll figure everything out together."  

You nod, even though he can’t see you, feeling a small, tired smile tug at the corners of your lips. There’s still a lingering ache in your heart, but it’s softer now, more manageable. "Thank you, babe," you whisper, the words heavy with gratitude and love. 

"Always," he murmurs back, his voice a soft promise that settles deep within you. "Just keep breathing, sunshine. I’ve got you. I always will."

With his voice still in your ear, you restart the car, feeling his presence as a guiding light through the darkness that’s clouded your path for so long. The road stretches out before you, uncertain and unfamiliar, but with Felix by your side—even if only through the phone—it doesn’t seem quite so daunting. 

For the first time in what feels like years, there’s a flicker of something warm blooming in your chest. Hope. Fragile, tentative, but undeniably there. And for now, that’s enough.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie @tajannah-price1 (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

──── * ˚ ✦ THE LAST STRAW ( stray kids )

❛ After a final argument with your toxic, manipulative mother over your irresponsible younger brother, you decide to cut ties with your family, only to be overwhelmed by doubt and panic until your supportive boyfriend, Felix, reassures you that choosing yourself was the right decision.

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 14 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Here's a wonderful request made by @lixies-favorite-cookie! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Non-Idol AU, emotional abuse, family conflict, mommy issues, mental health struggles, parental neglect, parental favoritism, depression and self-worth issues, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

The kitchen feels like a war zone, the air thick with unsaid accusations and the sharp remnants of long-festered wounds. Your mother stands at the sink, her back rigid and unforgiving, hands submerged in soapy water as she scrubs a dish with a ferocity that speaks louder than words. Each stroke of her hand seems to scrape away at the silence, but instead of clarity, it only stirs the storm between you. You can almost see the tension rippling off her like waves of heat from a furnace, feeding the blaze that has been building in your chest, threatening to consume you.

“So, that’s it?” you ask, your voice taut, straining against the anger simmering just below the surface. “You’re really going to ignore everything I’ve said and expect me to drop everything—again—to drive him around?” There’s a tremor in your tone, a plea for acknowledgment masked by the bitterness of your words. But she doesn’t turn to face you. Instead, she sighs, a heavy, exaggerated breath that fills the room with disdain, as if you are the one being irrational, ungrateful.

“He doesn’t have anyone else,” she replies, her voice dripping with exasperation, as if you should already know this. “And it’s not like it’s a big deal—you’re already out and about. What’s a little detour to help your brother?”

Her words hit you like a slap across the face, stinging and familiar. “A little detour?” you echo, a disbelieving laugh slipping out, sharp and brittle. “Mom, I have a job. I have classes. I’m barely keeping up as it is. But sure, let’s add ‘chauffeur for the man-child’ to my list of responsibilities.”

At this, she finally turns, her face set in that hardened expression you know so well—eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a thin, unforgiving line. “Don’t talk about him like that,” she snaps, her voice a low warning. “He’s your brother. He’s just going through a rough time.”

A bitter, exhausted laugh escapes your lips, and you can feel the years of buried frustration rising up, threatening to overflow. "A rough time?" you repeat, your voice growing louder, each word carrying the weight of all the grievances you’ve kept bottled up for so long. “He’s been ‘going through a rough time’ for the last five years! And every single time he screws up, you’re right there, wiping his slate clean, making excuses for him. He never has to face the consequences of anything, and somehow, I’m always the one left to pick up the pieces!”

Your voice cracks, and the room seems to tremble with the force of your words. All the times you’ve been overlooked, all the sacrifices you’ve made without a second thought, all the nights spent wondering why you were never enough—everything comes crashing down in this moment. You stand there, breathless, waiting for something, anything, that resembles an acknowledgment of what you’ve endured.

But she doesn’t see it. She doesn’t hear it. She doesn’t even flinch. And that, more than anything, is what breaks you.

"That's not true," your mother snaps, her voice cutting through the air like the crack of a whip, cold and biting. "You don’t know what he’s going through. You’ve always been so hard on him, never understanding." Her words hang in the air, thick with accusation, and you feel a familiar frustration beginning to coil tightly in your chest.

You scoff, the sound escaping before you can stop it, disbelief etched across your face. "Understanding?" you fire back, voice laced with incredulity. "You mean like how you’re 'understanding' when he crashes his car because he was out partying, and you expect me to drop everything, put my entire life and future on hold, to make up for it? Or how you’re 'understanding' when he blows all his money on God knows what, and I’m the one who has to lend him my hard-earned cash so he can pay his rent? You’ve always been ‘understanding’ of him, but when have you ever been ‘understanding’ of me?"

For a moment, the room falls silent, heavy with the weight of everything that has been left unsaid for far too long. Your mother’s eyes flash dangerously, a mix of anger and frustration, a glare that once would have made you swallow your words, scramble to backtrack and apologize. But not today. Today, the exhaustion has settled too deeply in your bones, mingling with the anger that has simmered for years, bubbling to the surface.

"You think I don’t care about you?" she spits out, her voice rising, each word sharp and defensive. "I’ve done everything for you! You grew up with food on the table and a roof over your head. You have a job now, you’re in college, you have everything going for you. Do you think that just happened by itself?"

Her audacity stings, her self-righteousness fanning the flames inside you. Every vein feels like it’s on fire, adrenaline surging through your body. “No,” you say, voice trembling but strong, each word pushed out with a force that surprises even you. “Don’t you dare take credit for what little good I have in my life. Don’t you dare. Everything I have going for me is because I worked for it. I was the one who graduated as valedictorian in high school—not you, not him. I worked my ass off to get into college, scrapping for every scholarship I could find so I wouldn’t have to drown in debt later. I found my own place to live, found a job so I could pay my own bills, held myself together when everything around me was falling apart.”

Your words pour out like a flood, each one more bitter than the last. You can see her eyes narrowing, her lips tightening, but it only pushes you to keep going. “But you? Sure, you fed me, you put a roof over my head—like the law says you should. But you only ever noticed me when I was useful to him, when I made things easier for your golden child."

The silence that follows is deafening, filled with the echoes of things that have finally been said, the raw truth laid bare between you. The tension in the room is electric, the weight of years of imbalance, neglect, and misplaced loyalty pressing down on your shoulders. But for the first time, you feel something shift inside you—a spark of liberation, a sense that perhaps, just perhaps, you’ve finally stepped out of the shadow that has loomed over you for so long.

"You're being so selfish," she spits, her voice trembling with a barely controlled fury that makes the walls tremble. The dishes slip from her hands, clattering into the sink with a loud clank as she whirls around to face you. Her eyes are wild, nearly bulging out of her head, her face flushed with indignation. "You have no idea what it's like to be a parent, to have to make these kinds of decisions." The venom in her words seeps into the air, choking you with its bitterness.

But you don’t flinch. Your fists curl even tighter at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you stand your ground, locking eyes with her. "I'm selfish?" A bitter laugh escapes you, sharp and brittle, and you can feel the hot sting of unshed tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "Do you even hear yourself? You've spent years bending over backwards to coddle him, to fix every single one of his messes. And every time, it's me who gets caught in the crossfire. It's always me who’s expected to be the 'responsible one.' And what do I get for it? Nothing. Not a thank you, not a 'good job,' not even a fraction of the support and understanding you so eagerly throw at him."

Your mother’s hand slams down on the counter with a thunderous bang, making you jump. Her face is a twisted mask of rage and frustration. "You've always had a chip on your shoulder about him," she sneers, her tone dripping with condescension, as if speaking to a petulant child. "Maybe if you weren't so jealous—"

"Don't even start." You cut her off, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’ve kept bottled up for so long. "I'm not jealous, Mom. I'm tired. I'm tired of being the one who has to sacrifice everything while he coasts through life, knowing you’ll always be there to bail him out. I'm tired of you making me feel like I’m never enough, like I’m only here to clean up his messes and make things easier for him."

The air thickens, a suffocating silence falling between you. Your mother’s face hardens, her eyes narrowing into icy slits. "If you don't like it, then maybe you should just leave," she says, her words cutting through the tension like a knife. "You're an adult now, aren’t you? You can make your own choices."

Her words hang in the air, daring you to speak, to react. For a moment, you’re stunned, the breath catching in your throat. Then, softly, like a truth you've kept buried, you say, "Maybe I should." The words taste like freedom on your tongue, a release from years of guilt and fear. "Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep letting you use me to prop him up while you tear me down. I deserve better than this."

For a fleeting moment, something flickers in her eyes—something almost vulnerable, almost human. But it vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by the same cold indifference that has always been there. "Fine. Do what you want," she says dismissively, her tone devoid of emotion. "But don’t come crying to me when you realize you can’t handle the world I’ve protected you from."

A humorless laugh bubbles up in your throat, but you swallow it down, taking a deep breath instead. You feel the weight of years of resentment, of pain and unspoken truths, settling into place. "I won't," you reply, voice steady as a stone. "Because I've been handling the world all my life. You never protected me from it—you only ever protected your golden child. And I’m done."

You turn away, leaving her standing there, leaving behind the suffocating grip of a mother who never truly saw you. You walk out of the kitchen, out of the house that never felt like a home, and with each step, the air feels a little lighter, the world outside a little more open. For the first time, you feel the distant, hopeful glimmer of something new—something that belongs to you, and you alone.

You sit in the driver’s seat, fingers clenched around the steering wheel with a grip so tight that your knuckles have turned ghostly white. Each breath you take is shallow and ragged, barely filling your lungs. Your heart hammers in your chest, erratic and wild, a drumbeat of panic. The weight of the argument you just had with your mother crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, cold and suffocating. It presses down on you with a force that makes you feel as if you’re drowning, gasping for air but finding none.

Your eyes remain fixed on the house in front of you—your childhood home, a place that should have held comfort and warmth but instead feels like a prison. Each window, each door, every familiar detail seems to glare back at you like a hundred judgmental eyes, watching, waiting. This is where you learned the rules of a game you never asked to play. A place where love was conditional, tethered to sacrifice and silence. And now, it’s a place you’ve walked away from—perhaps for good.

Your vision blurs with unshed tears, and you let out a shaky breath that comes out more like a sob than you intended. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the sting from your eyes, but it’s useless. You can’t stay here, not in front of this house where the walls seem to whisper accusations, where every step closer feels like sinking deeper into quicksand. You can’t risk your mother storming out with that familiar fire in her eyes, her voice like a vice, twisting your emotions to suit her will.

With trembling hands, you fumble for your phone, fingers unsteady as they swipe through your contacts. You need an anchor, something to steady you before you’re pulled under by the crushing weight of it all. You find his name—Felix. Your thumb hovers for a moment, then presses the call button. You raise the phone to your ear, the screen blurring with tears as you pull out of the driveway. You don’t have a destination in mind; you just need to be moving, to put distance between you and that house.

The line rings once, twice, and with each unanswered ring, the panic coils tighter in your chest, rising into your throat like bile. What if he doesn’t pick up? What if he’s busy? What if you’re left alone with the noise in your head? But then—

"Hey, sunshine," his voice breaks through, warm and steady, like the first rays of dawn piercing through the darkest night. His tone is so familiar, so safe. "You okay? I'm just—"

You don’t let him finish. Your voice cracks as you speak, holding back the sob that threatens to spill over. "Felix...I—I did it. I told her...I told her that I'm done. I can't...I can't believe that I actually did it." The words rush out of you in a breathless stream, a confession that feels both terrifying and freeing.

There’s a pause on the other end, a silence that feels heavy with the weight of his understanding. You can almost hear him processing your words, feel the concern threading through the line. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, careful. "You talked to her?" he asks, his tone gentle yet laced with worry. "What happened?"

His question hangs in the air, pulling at your heartstrings, inviting you to pour out the torrent of emotions swirling inside you. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel like you can breathe, even if just a little, knowing that someone is there to catch you as you fall.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, a futile attempt to push back the tears that threaten to spill over. Your heart is pounding in your chest, a heavy, uneven rhythm that matches the chaos in your mind. When you open your eyes again, you force yourself to focus on the road, blinking rapidly to clear the blurriness from your vision. You suck in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, to find some semblance of calm amidst the storm raging inside you.  

"It was about my man-child of a brother again," you start, your voice wavering as you speak. Each word feels like a shard of glass, cutting through the tightness in your throat. "She wanted me to...to fucking drop everything and take care of his mess again. He crashed the damn car, and she’s not even mad at him. She was actually more pissed at me for not wanting to drive him everywhere." The bitterness in your tone is unmistakable, tinged with a raw edge of frustration that’s been simmering for far too long. "And I just...I couldn’t take it anymore, Lix. I told her I’m done. I told her I wasn’t coming back."  

Your breath hitches, and a sob finally breaks free, raw and unrestrained, as you come to a stop at a red light. The tears you've been holding back spill over, warm and unwelcome, streaking down your cheeks. "But what if I made a mistake? What if I’m wrong?" you choke out, the words heavy with doubt and fear. "I mean, they are my family at the end of the day, and I’m nothing without them. What if I...what if I shouldn’t have done this?"  

On the other end of the line, you hear a soft rustling, a familiar sound that brings a small measure of comfort. You know he’s moving, pacing like he always does when he’s worried. Felix’s voice comes through, steady and gentle, like a lifeline. "Hey, hey, take a breath for me, hmm?" he murmurs, his tone soothing. "Just breathe. In and out, yeah? I’m right here."  

You try to follow his instructions as you ease off the brake, the traffic lights changing to green. You take a deep breath in, filling your lungs, and then let it out, but the exhale is shaky, faltering, as if your body is resisting the calm he’s trying to instill. The tears keep flowing, unchecked, but his voice remains a steady anchor amidst the turbulent sea of your emotions.  

"You did the right thing, love," he continues, his voice firm with conviction—a conviction you desperately need to hear right now. "You’ve been dealing with their bullshit for so long. Too long. You deserve to let it go. You deserve to be free of it all."  

Without much thought, you turn the car to the right, feeling the pull of his reassurance guiding you, even if you’re not quite sure where you’re going. "But what if...what if Mom’s right?" you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "What if I am being selfish? I just...I grew up with this rule in my head that family always helps family, so what if I’m being a shitty person by refusing?"  

For a moment, there’s a pause, a breath of silence that hangs in the air, heavy with all the questions and fears you can’t quite voice. Felix’s next words are gentle, but they cut through that fog with a clarity that brings you back from the edge. "You’re not selfish," he says quietly but firmly. "Sometimes, family isn't about blood; it’s about who stands by you, who sees you. And you’ve been standing on your own for a long time. It’s okay to want more than just survival."  

Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting, blurring your vision as they cascade over your skin. You press the heel of your hand against your eyes, trying to stem the flow, but it’s like trying to dam a river with a single stone—futile. The weight of everything, the argument, the years of silent endurance, crashes over you in waves, threatening to pull you under. With a shaky breath, you pull onto the side of the road, the tires crunching over gravel, and the car comes to a halt. 

"I’m scared, Lix," you confess, your voice breaking, small and fragile as it escapes you. "I’m scared that I’ll regret this." The words hang in the air, and for a moment, it feels like the world is holding its breath with you. Your heart is a clenched fist in your chest, squeezing tighter with each passing second. 

Then, his voice breaks through the silence—a warm, comforting presence that feels like a soft embrace, wrapping around you when you need it most. "You won’t," he says, his tone gentle yet firm, a soothing balm for your frayed nerves. "You know why, huh? Because you’re finally choosing yourself. And that’s not something to regret, not ever. Love, I’m not trying to say it’ll be easy from now on, but you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved for who you are, not for what you can do for someone else."

A shaky breath escapes your lips, and the tightness in your chest starts to loosen, if only a little. His words are like a lifeline, grounding you, pulling you back from the edge of your doubts. Deep down, beneath the fear and the uncertainty, you know he’s right. You’ve carried this weight for so long that it feels strange to think of setting it down. But his words are a steady anchor, keeping you from drifting away. 

"Can I come over?" you ask, your voice almost a whisper, raw and vulnerable. "I don’t... I don’t want to be alone right now." The admission feels like exposing a wound, but with Felix, it’s okay. It’s always been okay.

There isn’t a moment of hesitation before he responds, his voice filled with that unwavering reassurance you’ve come to rely on. "Of course. I’m not home right now, but I was already on my way from class, so I’ll meet you there, okay? Just stay on the phone with me until I get there. We’ll figure everything out together."  

You nod, even though he can’t see you, feeling a small, tired smile tug at the corners of your lips. There’s still a lingering ache in your heart, but it’s softer now, more manageable. "Thank you, babe," you whisper, the words heavy with gratitude and love. 

"Always," he murmurs back, his voice a soft promise that settles deep within you. "Just keep breathing, sunshine. I’ve got you. I always will."

With his voice still in your ear, you restart the car, feeling his presence as a guiding light through the darkness that’s clouded your path for so long. The road stretches out before you, uncertain and unfamiliar, but with Felix by your side—even if only through the phone—it doesn’t seem quite so daunting. 

For the first time in what feels like years, there’s a flicker of something warm blooming in your chest. Hope. Fragile, tentative, but undeniably there. And for now, that’s enough.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie @tajannah-price1 (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

────* ˚ ✦ CAUGHT IN THE ACT ( stray kids )

❛ The reactions of each member of Stray Kids' Maknae line when they're caught kissing you by another member.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 32 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This was honestly so much fun to write! My personal favorite has got to be Felix's piece :) Reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Getting caught kissing, established relationship for every member except for Felix, Reader is a brat in Seungmin's piece, Seungmin's part is also kinda suggestive but nothing too serious, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

HYUNG LINE | MAKNAE LINE

한지성 ── HAN JISUNG.

The elevator chimed softly, announcing its arrival at the well-worn floor of your boyfriend’s apartment building. The sound, almost like an old friend’s greeting, blended with the soft rustle of takeout bags in your hands. Each step you took down the hallway was instinctive, as if your feet had memorized the path from countless visits. You mused that, at this point, you might as well be contributing to the rent, considering how often you wandered through these doors.

As you reached Jisung’s door, a sense of familiarity washed over you. The door, just as he’d assured you, was slightly ajar—a silent invitation into the cozy haven within. You gently nudged it open and slipped inside, the comfort of the space wrapping around you like an old, cherished blanket. 

With a practiced ease, you kicked off your shoes, the soft thud of their landing on the floor barely registering amidst the quiet. The scent of warm, delicious takeout, mingled with the faint aroma of Jisung’s cologne, filled the air as you made your way to the kitchen. You placed the bags atop the counter with a satisfied sigh, the familiar clink of containers and the gentle crinkle of paper marking the end of your journey and the beginning of another evening spent together.

“Honey, is that you?” Jisung’s voice, warm and familiar, drifted from the depths of his bedroom. The sound, gentle and inviting, coaxed a smile from your lips. You responded with a soft, affirming call, and set about unpacking the array of takeout food onto the kitchen counter, carefully sorting out the dinner you’d planned for Minho to enjoy later. The task, once mundane, felt infused with a sense of anticipation.

Yet, a curious feeling nudged at you. The curiosity won over practicality, and you decided to investigate the source of Jisung’s call. Leaving the neatly arranged containers behind, you approached his bedroom with soft footsteps, the hallway dimly illuminated by the subtle glow from the adjoining rooms. As you pushed open the door, a veil of darkness initially concealed the room’s contents.

You peered inside, eyes straining to adjust to the shadows. Slowly, shapes began to emerge from the obscurity. Jisung’s figure, snug and enveloped in the cocoon of his bed, came into view. His gaze, tender and filled with warmth, met yours through the gloom. The softness of his smile mirrored the affection in your own, as if sharing a silent, intimate conversation in the quiet of the room.

“Why aren’t you coming to eat?” you asked, your voice carrying a blend of playful curiosity and genuine concern, as you took in the serene sight of him waiting for you.

Jisung remained silent, his only response a slow, deliberate lift of his arm—a silent, yet eloquent invitation for you to join him. With a tender smile curling your lips, you moved toward him, feeling the comforting warmth of his presence. You sank into the plush embrace of his bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you settled beside him. He promptly draped the soft sheets over your body, their gentle weight providing a cocoon of warmth as he drew you closer, his arms encircling you with a sense of tender possessiveness.

In the dim, intimate glow of the room, you felt his breath, warm and soothing, as he nestled his face into the curve of your neck, a contented sigh escaping him. His closeness enveloped you in a cocoon of serene affection. You reached up, your fingers gently threading through his tousled hair, your touch both soothing and affectionate.

“Are you okay, my love?” you murmured, your voice a blend of concern and tenderness. Jisung’s response was a subtle nod, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the moment. 

“I’m just very tired,” he mumbled, his voice muffled and soft. “Spent the entire day with Chan and Changbin, working on some songs, and then we had dance rehearsal.” His words were nearly lost in the gentle hum of exhaustion that colored his tone. “Honestly, I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years.”

You chuckled softly, the sound a gentle ripple of warmth against the quiet of the room. Leaning in, you pressed a tender kiss to his temple, the gesture imbued with both affection and understanding.

“Since we’re not eating just yet, how about I put away the food first before we settle in for a nap together?” you suggest softly, the words slipping gently into the quiet space between you. As you attempt to wriggle free from his tender embrace, Jisung responds with a playful squeeze, a muffled whine of disapproval escaping his lips. His arms tighten around you, cocooning you in warmth and affection, unwilling to let go.

You can’t help but giggle at his stubbornness, your fingers tapping lightly on his biceps in a playful plea for release. Despite your gentle insistence, he remains resolute, his embrace as comforting as it is firm. “Please, just a moment,” you implore, your voice a soothing blend of amusement and persistence. “I promise it’ll only take a second.”

The room seems to hold its breath as you wait for his response, the soft rustle of the sheets and the rhythmic beat of your hearts creating a quiet symphony of intimacy and warmth.

He groans dramatically, his head falling back with a sleepily exaggerated pout that tugs at your heartstrings. Unable to resist, you lean in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. The moment is soft and fleeting, a quiet affirmation of your affection. However, before the kiss can deepen, an unexpected yelp of surprise pierces the tranquility.

Startled, you both turn to see Chan standing in the doorway, his cheeks flushed a vivid shade of crimson. He stands there, momentarily frozen, as he fumbles with the light switch, the room flooding with sudden brightness. “Sorry,” Chan mumbles, his voice a hesitant whisper. His eyes dart away from the two of you, clearly embarrassed as he steps further inside. “Hannie said I could come in here to grab the cable I need. I didn’t realize you’d be here—I thought he would be at your place.”

With a sheepish nod, Chan dives into the drawers of Jisung’s desk, his movements quick and purposeful as he searches for the elusive cable. Within moments, he triumphantly retrieves it, his gaze flickering back to you and Jisung in an apologetic glance. Bowing awkwardly, Chan’s cheeks remain flushed as he hurries to exit. Jisung, watching the whole scene unfold, can’t suppress a chuckle, the sound rich with amusement. Chan, now thoroughly embarrassed, flicks the lights off with a swift motion before making a hasty exit, his footsteps echoing as he bolts out of the apartment.

“He’s so ridiculous,” Jisung mutters, his voice laced with a blend of amusement and exasperation. He finally loosens his embrace, allowing you to slip away as he sinks back into the plush depths of the bed. His eyes drift shut, heavy with fatigue, leaving the space beside him achingly vacant.

You rise, your movements gentle as you tread softly across the room, the dim light casting a warm glow over the scene. Jisung’s words hang in the air, a tender plea that tugs at your heart. “Hurry up,” he murmurs, his tone a soft blend of longing and affection. “I miss you already.”

The quiet intimacy of his request fills the room, a promise of the warmth and closeness awaiting you as you return to his side.

이용복 ── LEE YONGBOK.

The melody had woven itself into a relentless loop, its notes echoing and intertwining with the fabric of time for the past two hours. Despite the growing monotony of its repetition, your admiration for Yongbok’s unwavering commitment remains undiminished. Each echo of the song was met with his tireless pursuit of perfection, his every move an intricate dance of effort and grace.

As you watched him, your gaze was drawn to the artistry of his movements, which seemed to inch closer to flawless execution with every cycle of the song. Yet, your focus wavered slightly, ensnared by the sight before you. The relentless dance had left Yongbok drenched in perspiration, his thin white tank top clinging to his toned frame as though it were a second skin. His long hair, once neatly styled, now adhered to his neck and forehead in damp tendrils, framing his face with an unrestrained charm.

Under the harsh, bright glare of the overhead lights, Yongbok's sweat caught the illumination, casting a mesmerizing shimmer that made him appear almost ethereal, as if he were a creature of light and shadow dancing beneath a celestial spotlight. The sight of him, glowing with an otherworldly radiance, was enough to pull your thoughts away from the task at hand.

Suddenly, you jolted back to the present, your mind snapping into focus just in time to catch a subtle misstep in Yongbok's otherwise flawless routine. The small error, though minor, stood out against the backdrop of his otherwise meticulous performance, a testament to both his dedication and the endless pursuit of perfection.

With a practiced flick of your thumb, you paused the relentless song. Yongbok, spent and breathless, trudged over to you, each step heavy with fatigue. His once sharp movements were now slower, his chest rising and falling in labored breaths. He reached for his water bottle with a grateful, weary groan, tilting it back to quench his thirst before collapsing onto the floor beside you in a defeated slump.

A sympathetic chuckle escaped your lips as you rose from your spot, now relinquished to the worn patch of ground Yongbok had recently vacated. You adjusted your position, preparing to offer guidance. "Yongbokie," you began, your voice soothing and encouraging, "you’re slowing down the transition between these two moves, which disrupts the rhythm. It’s causing you to fall out of sync with the tempo."

With a patient, guiding touch, you demonstrated the movements, your body moving with the precision you hoped to convey. The graceful flow of your actions contrasted with the slower, labored efforts of Yongbok’s earlier attempts. "If you can manage to execute the transitions a bit faster," you said, illustrating the corrected pace with fluidity, "you’ll stay in perfect harmony with the beats. Let’s try it one more time. You’re so close to getting it just right, I promise."

Though Yongbok huffed in exhaustion, his resolve remained steadfast. He nodded, a spark of determination igniting in his eyes as he pulled himself off the ground to face the challenge once more. You patted his backside affectionately, your smile radiating warmth and encouragement. With a final, reassuring glance, you settled back into your own spot, your hand poised to restart the song and guide him through one more round of practice.

As the challenging segment of the choreography approached once again, a wave of anticipation rippled through the room. This time, as Yongbok executed the intricate moves with newfound precision, a burst of joy erupted from you. The moment he flawlessly completed the sequence, a triumphant cheer escaped your lips, filling the air with infectious excitement.

Yongbok’s face lit up with a radiant grin, his pride palpable as he executed the final steps with flawless grace. The relief was evident in his posture as the last notes of the song drifted into silence. Breathless and spent, he leaned heavily against the choreography’s completion, his body glistening with the sheen of hard-earned sweat.

Without hesitation, you sprang into action, wrapping your arms around him in a jubilant embrace. Despite the stickiness of his sweat-soaked form, your excitement and affection overshadowed any discomfort. Yongbok’s chuckle, light and appreciative, resonated in the space between you. His weight shifted onto you, causing a delighted giggle to bubble from your lips as you wobbled slightly, struggling to maintain your balance.

With a joyful determination, you steadied yourself, ensuring you could support both of you. “That was exactly what I was hoping for, Yongbok! You nailed it perfectly!” you exclaimed, your voice brimming with admiration. The connection between you two, now solidified by the shared triumph, felt both exhilarating and endearing, marking the culmination of a well-deserved moment of celebration.

"Does this mean we’re finished for today?" Yongbok’s voice was laced with a mixture of hope and weariness as he slowly lifted himself off you, his gaze searching for confirmation. His eyes, wide and gleaming with anticipation, met yours with a fervent intensity that made your heart skip a beat. 

You laughed softly, a warm sound that mingled with the dim glow of satisfaction in the room. Nodding, you placed a gentle hand on his damp abdomen, the contact reassuring and tender. Yongbok’s tired cheer was a muted echo of his earlier exuberance, a blend of relief and lingering fatigue.

However, the moment was charged with a different kind of energy as Yongbok’s eyes fixed on you with an almost palpable intensity. The depth of his gaze was impossible to ignore, and it made you shift uneasily, feeling a pang of discomfort mixed with longing. You were acutely aware of the electric chemistry between you two, the unspoken tension that lingered just beneath the surface. Though the desire to explore something beyond your professional boundaries was strong, the reality of your roles—idol and choreographer—kept you tethered to the confines of your current relationship.

With a heavy heart, you took a step back, the space between you now marked by a careful, deliberate distance. The flicker of disappointment in Yongbok’s eyes was quick and fleeting, though it did not escape your notice. In an instant, his expression softened, and a shy smile crept onto his lips, a tender acknowledgment of the boundaries you both knew you had to maintain.

"Do you happen to know where the other members should be right now?" Yongbok asked, his voice carrying a note of curiosity as he ambled back towards his water bottle. With a swift motion, he downed the remaining liquid in a single, satisfying gulp, the action accompanied by a soft, relieved sigh.

As Yongbok wiped away the sweat from his brow with the hem of his drenched tank top, the fabric clinging to his form, you couldn't help but be drawn to the sight of his toned, glistening abs. The subtle sheen of perspiration against his skin created an almost mesmerizing glimmer. You inhaled sharply, your breath catching in your throat at the unexpected display.

Embarrassment quickly flush your cheeks and ears with a deep, vibrant crimson. You cleared your throat, the sound a weak attempt to regain composure, and shifted your gaze to the opposite side of the dance room. There, your belongings were scattered haphazardly across the familiar leather couch. You made a beeline for it, desperately seeking refuge from the heat rising in your face.

"I think Chan is in his studio with Changbin and Han, as usual," you managed, your voice wavering slightly as you unplugged your charger and hastily stuffed it into your bag. "But I'm not entirely sure about the rest of the members." As you fumbled with your bag, you recalled a recent conversation. "Wait, Minho mentioned something about going out to eat with I.N, if I remember correctly."

The words stumbled out with an air of nervous distraction, as you tried to steady yourself amidst the lingering flush of embarrassment.

When you turned around, a jolt of surprise raced through you. Yongbok stood so close behind you that you could almost feel the warmth of his breath. His eyes, shimmering with a daring glint, set your heart racing uncontrollably. The intensity of his gaze made your breath hitch and your body tense, an intoxicating wave of anticipation washing over you.

His presence, almost overwhelming in its proximity, brought an unexpected silence between you. Yongbok’s smirk, laden with a hint of arrogance, conveyed a quiet confidence that seemed to pierce right through your defenses. The way he loomed over you, casting a shadow of both authority and allure, was a detail that had always stirred something deep within you. You realized with a start that you were holding your breath, caught in a moment where your unspoken dreams felt tantalizingly close to reality.

As his gaze slid deliberately to your lips, the unspoken possibility of what could happen next seemed to hang in the air. The thrill of breaking boundaries and rules danced at the edge of your consciousness, but the electric current of desire was stronger. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the strap of your bag tightly, a physical manifestation of the mixture of anxiety and adrenaline coursing through you.

In that charged moment, the consequences of your actions felt distant and inconsequential. The possibility of Yongbok leaning in and shattering the boundaries of professionalism made your thoughts swirl in a haze of longing and exhilaration. You allowed yourself to be consumed by this desire, choosing to embrace the intensity of the moment and deal with any repercussions later. For now, logic faded into the background as you surrendered to the intoxicating allure of what might unfold.

"I, um," Yongbok began, his voice dropping to a hushed murmur that barely cut through the silence of the dance room, which was usually a whirlwind of sound and energy. The room's rare quietude made his words stand out, their subtle weight heavy in the calm.

"I always enjoy these private sessions with you. Even if it’s just for a short while, having you to myself truly becomes one of the highlights of my day." The sincerity in his voice was unexpected, and it struck you with a force that made your heart flutter. As you absorbed the depth of his words, your cheeks warmed, turning a deeper shade of red. The weight of his intention was clear, and it sparked a genuine smile that spread across your face, unable to be contained.

Seeing your reaction, Yongbok’s smirk softened into a tender, almost shy grin. His eyes, previously sharp and intense, now crinkled into crescent moons, their corners adorned with the sparkling constellation of his freckles. The sight was endearing, a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before.

"I also really enjoy these sessions with you," you whispered back, your voice barely more than a breath. You noticed his gaze linger on your lips once more, an unspoken conversation passing between your glances. "You make a pretty good student." The compliment was light but sincere, a playful acknowledgment of the bond you shared in these intimate moments of practice.

The low, rumbling chuckle that emerged from Yongbok's chest had a mesmerizing effect on you, leaving you momentarily dazed. Your gaze drifted slowly to his exquisitely plump lips, each curve and line illuminated by the soft light that bathed the room. 

"Yeah?" he teased, his voice carrying a playful challenge. The sound elicited a soft, involuntary giggle from you, a delightful echo of your shared tension. You watched as he inched closer, his presence growing more intoxicating with each passing second. His warm breath, gentle and inviting, fanned across your face in a way that was almost addictive. The sensation sent a shiver racing down your spine, a physical reminder of how close you now were. 

In this moment, you were acutely aware that this was the closest you had ever been to him. A silent prayer formed in your mind, hoping that this proximity wouldn’t be a fleeting encounter but the beginning of something more. The air between you crackled with anticipation, making you feel almost intoxicated by the intensity of the moment. 

Yongbok paused just before your lips could meet, his gaze locking onto yours with an unexpected intensity. The question that followed was softly spoken, almost reverent in its delivery. "Could I... may I kiss you?" His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation or discomfort, but all he found was a mixture of eagerness and affection. 

You nodded, your movements almost frantic in their urgency, as if you were desperate to reassure him. "Yes," you whispered, your voice trembling with the whirlwind of emotions that enveloped you. His gaze softened, and with your consent granted, he closed the distance between you. 

His lips met yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionately charged, a culmination of all the unspoken desires and longings that had simmered between you. The sensation was electrifying, and you felt your bag slip from your shoulder, landing softly on the floor with a muted thud. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pulled him closer, savoring the intimate connection you had yearned for so long.

You barely registered the low, appreciative groan that escaped Yongbok as his arms encircled your waist, pulling you irresistibly closer against him. The sweat and stickiness from hours of rigorous rehearsal faded into insignificance, overshadowed by the profound intimacy of the kiss. 

As your lips melded together, the kiss deepened, a powerful exchange that spoke volumes of the years of unspoken longing and desire. Each movement was desperate, as if trying to communicate all the feelings that had been kept hidden for so long. The connection was so intense that you found yourself almost panting with the fervor of it, each breath a testament to the depth of your emotions.

In this sacred moment, you felt as though you were observing yourself from a distance, as if through a veil or a screen. Standing on the tips of your toes, you sought to bridge the remaining space between you, craving more of the warmth and closeness that he offered. The kiss seemed to transcend the physical act itself; it was a vessel for the profound yearning you had harbored throughout your time working together. Every touch, every brush of his lips, was a way to convey just how deeply you had longed for this connection.

To your utter dismay, the cherished moment you had longed for was abruptly shattered by the sharp sound of a scandalized gasp from across the room. The noise jolted you from your reverie, and you instinctively pushed Yongbok away, stumbling backward in a daze. Your eyes widened in shock as you turned to see Hyunjin standing at the entrance of the dance room, his jaw hanging open in astonishment and his eyes wide with disbelief.

Hyunjin’s gaze darted rapidly between you and Yongbok, his expression a mix of confusion and surprise. The air seemed to thicken with tension, each second stretching into what felt like an eternity. You floundered, desperately trying to summon a coherent excuse, but the words seemed to elude you in your state of panic. Yongbok, for his part, wore a deep crimson blush and offered a sheepish smile, clearly as taken aback as you were.

The silence between you was heavy, suffused with the weight of unspoken words and mounting anxiety. Hyunjin, despite his apparent shock, didn’t seem like the type to make a fuss, but the thought of potential consequences gnawed at your gut. The fear of losing the job you had come to cherish so deeply loomed large. Dancing had always been your sole passion, and the opportunity to choreograph for such an incredible group had been a dream come true. The confidence you had felt moments ago evaporated, leaving you trembling and vulnerable, a far cry from the composed professional you had aspired to be.

To your astonishment, a broad, teasing grin spread across Hyunjin’s face, his eyes glinting with mischief as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. His gaze shifted from you to Yongbok with an air of playful challenge. “Lixie, when did you get so daring?” he drawled, his voice laced with amusement. “I never thought you’d actually go for it.”

The shock of his words made you whirl your head to face Yongbok, who was now blushing deeply, his cheeks a vivid shade of red. He shot Hyunjin a half-hearted glare, his embarrassment palpable. “How long have you two been seeing each other?” Hyunjin continued, his voice rising with mock indignation. “And why haven’t I heard anything about it?”

Leaning casually against the doorframe, Hyunjin crossed his arms over his chest, adopting a playful pout that made the whole situation feel oddly lighthearted despite the tension. His demeanor was almost too casual for the gravity of the moment.

Yongbok, still flushed and clearly flustered, waved his hands in front of him in a frantic gesture. “You haven’t heard anything because you just interrupted our first kiss, you idiot!” The exasperation in his voice was evident, mingled with the lingering blush of his cheeks.

As Hyunjin’s realization dawned upon him, his entire demeanor shifted from playful mischief to genuine remorse. His face flushed with sudden guilt, and he bowed repeatedly, his hurried apologies tumbling out in a rush. With a final, sheepish glance, he bolted from the room with surprising speed, leaving behind a palpable silence.

You stood there, momentarily stunned, your eyes fixed on the spot where Hyunjin had just been. The shock of the interruption lingered, making the stillness around you seem almost tangible. After a few moments, Yongbok cautiously stepped back into your line of sight. He resumed his previous position but with a respectful distance, his gaze searching for any sign of your reaction.

"I'm sorry about that," Yongbok mumbled, his voice tinged with a shy, almost bashful quality. "I may or may not have been crushing on you for quite a while." His confession hung in the air, and you felt a flutter of amusement at his honest admission.

Shaking yourself out of the daze, a soft giggle escaped your lips, breaking the lingering tension. You bent to retrieve the bag you had dropped in the frenzy of the moment, your cheeks still flushed with a persistent blush. "I think it's actually quite cute," you said sincerely, meeting his gaze with warmth. "If it helps, I’ve also had feelings for you for a while. I guess that makes us even."

The smile that bloomed on Yongbok’s face was radiant, transforming his earlier embarrassment into an endearing display of joy. Seeing his expression light up made your heart swell with affection, and your own smile widened in response. The shared understanding between you felt like a promise of something beautiful beginning to unfold.

Finally, as the realization of your earlier intention to leave washed over him, Yongbok reached out with a gentle, reassuring gesture. His hand, warm and steady, closed around the handle of your bag, taking it from your grasp despite the evident confusion that flickered across your face.

With a soft, earnest smile, he met your gaze. "I'd like to walk you home, if you'll allow me," he offered, his voice carrying a tender note of sincerity. The invitation hung in the air, a promise of continued closeness and shared moments, as he stood there, waiting for your response with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

김승민 ── KIM SEUNGMIN.

The heavy, cumbersome bags dug relentlessly into your forearms as you and Seungmin trudged through the labyrinthine corridors leading to his apartment. Each step you took felt like a battle against the relentless weight, the rough straps cutting into your skin. Despite your intimate familiarity with this maze of hallways—so well-known that you could navigate it even with your eyes closed—Seungmin led the way with a quiet confidence. 

The silence between you was filled with a subtle, unspoken ease. The only sounds punctuating the stillness were the occasional rustle of plastic and the soft, steady rhythm of your breath. Your panting was light, a testament to the slight strain you felt as you wrestled with the bags' burdens. Seungmin had insisted on carrying every single bag in one go, a decision born from a practical desire to avoid the inconvenience of multiple trips. You could grudgingly acknowledge the wisdom in his suggestion, even as you shot occasional glares at the back of his head, cursing the added effort required.

Despite your murmured complaints, the truth was that Seungmin had taken on the lion's share of the load. His gentlemanly nature had ensured that the majority of the burden fell upon him, leaving you with only a few bags to manage. His consideration was evident, and though you resented the extra strain, you couldn't deny the relief it brought you.

With a deep, grateful sigh, you finally spotted the familiar door that marked the threshold of your boyfriend’s apartment, where he shared his space with his friend Yongbok. The door stood at the end of the hallway, a beacon of familiarity in the dimly lit corridor. As you and Seungmin rounded the final corner, a cacophony of sounds spilled out from within, a vivid reminder of the lively chaos unfolding just beyond the threshold.

Even from this distance, the din was unmistakable. The clamor of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of playful shouts drifted through the walls, painting a vivid picture of the evening’s revelry. It was a weekly ritual, a cherished tradition among the group: a night dedicated to drinks, games, and movies. The venue for these gatherings rotated among the four apartments, and tonight was Seungmin and Yongbok’s turn to play host.

This familiar routine was the reason for your last-minute excursion, a hurried shopping trip undertaken with Seungmin. The promise of good company and the comforting familiarity of these gatherings made every effort worthwhile, even if it meant bearing the burden of heavy bags and enduring the bustle of a lively home.

As the two of you finally approached your destination, the hallway seemed to stretch out in slow motion. You observed Seungmin with a mixture of anticipation and amusement as he fumbled with his keys, his fingers deftly searching for the right one to unlock the door and liberate you both from the burdensome weight of the grocery bags. Each moment seemed to elongate as he concentrated intently on the task at hand, his brow furrowed in concentration.

A spark of mischief flickered within you, and a playful smirk curved your lips as an impish idea took shape. Seizing the opportunity, you inched closer to him despite the heavy bags you still carried. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you leaned in and gently nipped at his earlobe—an area you knew to be particularly sensitive, a delightful secret you alone had the privilege of knowing.

The effect was immediate and electrifying. Seungmin's task came to an abrupt halt as he shot you a look of mock indignation, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. You could almost feel the jolt of pleasure radiating through him, and the sight of his reaction filled you with giddy satisfaction. Your smirk widened, thoroughly pleased with the ripple of surprise and delight you'd managed to provoke.

“You’re a brat, you know that, right?” Seungmin’s voice was laced with playful reprimand, but the intense glimmer of desire in his eyes was unmistakable—a fiery spark that you could discern from miles away. An exhilarating surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, yet you maintained an innocent facade, one you knew perfectly well would drive him to distraction. Teasing him was a delight, particularly because he was so wonderfully easy to provoke.

With a resigned shake of his head, Seungmin decided to forgo engaging further in your tantalizing game. He returned to his task, wrestling with the tangled keys and the cumbersome grocery bags. Despite his frustration, he eventually managed to grasp the elusive key he’d been searching for, his movements a blend of determination and exasperation.

You pouted slightly, trying to ignore the discomfort of the heavy bags digging into your arms as you once again leaned in, eager to continue your playful assault. But before you could take another nip at his ear, you were met with an unexpected turn of events. A startled gasp escaped your lips as Seungmin swiftly maneuvered you against the wall beside the entrance door. The thud of the grocery bags hitting the floor was a distant sound, overshadowed by the deliciously stern gaze Seungmin now directed at you. His eyes, fierce and intense, held you captive in a moment of electrifying silence, leaving you utterly captivated and breathless.

You were unrepentantly shameless in your brattiness whenever Seungmin was near; it was a facet of yourself that you relished, an irresistible indulgence that compelled him to respond with a roughness that only fueled your excitement further. The thrill of this dynamic was too captivating to forgo, and the sight of him now made your knees quiver slightly, though his firm grip on your waist steadied you, his hands pressing down with a force that bordered on painful.

"You're going to need to be on your best behavior once we go inside, pup," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. The warm breath against your ear sent thrilling shivers cascading down your spine, a tangible reminder of his proximity and the intensity of his focus. The sternness of his tone only added to the charged atmosphere between you.

In response to the overwhelming sensation, you let the bags you’d been clutching fall to the floor with a grateful thud, the weight lifting from your arms like a welcome reprieve. You eagerly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, the warmth of his body merging with yours. A startled gasp escaped you when Seungmin’s teeth suddenly grazed the nape of your neck, his bite both sharp and exhilarating. His gaze, a blend of silent challenge and teasing, held you captive as he pulled back slightly, his eyes gleaming with unspoken promises and the lingering thrill of the moment.

Without a second thought, you leaned in with fervor, capturing his irresistibly warm lips in a heated kiss. Your body pressed eagerly against his, a blend of warmth and excitement fueling your playful exchange. The kiss was both urgent and tender, a passionate dance that seemed to defy time itself.

Yet, just as suddenly as you had initiated the kiss, you broke away, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You pushed him gently, feigning a lighthearted annoyance. "Come on, Min, we have to get inside quickly—I don't want my ice cream to melt," you said, your voice adopting an innocent tone that belied the intense arousal you felt. You moved to retrieve the fallen grocery bags, determined to restore some semblance of normalcy.

However, your attempt to distance yourself was swiftly thwarted. Before you could get very far, Seungmin's hands were firmly on your shoulders, and you found yourself pressed against the wall once more. His eyes, ablaze with a mix of irritation and desire, locked onto yours with an intensity that you found intoxicating. 

"No, pup, you started this," he murmured with a gruff edge to his voice. His lips then descended upon your neck, expertly finding that sensitive spot you so loved. His tongue traced and teased with a skill that made you sigh in deep satisfaction. As he lavished attention on your neck, you instinctively wrapped your arms around him again, savoring the thrilling intimacy of the moment.

As you began to rock your hips in a desperate bid for more friction, a sudden distraction interrupted your moment. The front door creaked open, its sound briefly pulling your focus away. Yet, Seungmin remained undeterred, his determination to stir your passions evident in the way he continued to work you up with unrelenting intensity.

You craned your neck, your gaze settling on Minho, who stood at the threshold with an amused snort. His eyes danced with barely concealed laughter as he took in the scene before him. His gaze dropped to the grocery bags strewn haphazardly on the floor, abandoned in the midst of your playful struggle. 

"They're back!" Minho's voice rang out, cheerful and slightly teasing. "Our Seungminnie is a bit preoccupied at the moment—busy being his usual doggy self. So if someone could lend me a hand with these bags, I'd appreciate it. I need to get dinner started," he added, his laughter causing his voice to break with a playful edge. With a few deft motions, he gathered several bags and turned to head back inside, leaving you and Seungmin in a bubble of intimate chaos.

Moments later, Chan emerged, his expression one of affectionate amusement as he playfully cooed at Seungmin. With a grin, he took hold of the remaining bags, his presence adding a warm, reassuring energy to the scene. As he followed Minho inside, he closed the door gently behind him, leaving you and Seungmin to resume your private interlude amidst the soft echo of the apartment’s lively ambiance.

A startled moan escaped your lips as Seungmin’s teeth sank into the tender flesh of your neck once more, his bite more forceful and insistent than before. The sensation sent shivers coursing down your spine, a raw mixture of pleasure and surprise. 

Seungmin’s voice, though laced with a sarcastic edge, only served to heighten the intensity of the moment. “Thanks for that,” he murmured, his words dripping with mock irritation. Yet, his actions betrayed the playful harshness of his tone. He pulled you impossibly closer, his grip tightening around you with a fervent, possessive energy. The closeness only served to underscore his own arousal, an unspoken testament to the charged atmosphere between you. His body pressed firmly against yours, each movement conveying a depth of desire that matched your own heightened sensations.

양정인 ── YANG JEONGIN.

In the gentle hum of late afternoon, the table in front of you became a tapestry of neatly folded garments, each piece meticulously arranged. The clothes, a delicate mix of your own and Jeongin's, formed soft, colorful mounds, their textures inviting a closer look. You worked silently, your fingers deftly handling the final batch of freshly dried laundry that Jeongin had just brought in. The room was filled with a tranquil rhythm, punctuated only by the soft rustling of fabric and the occasional sigh of contentment.

Jeongin's presence was like a warm breeze, a comforting whisper against the backdrop of domesticity. He slipped into the space beside you with effortless grace, his lips pressing a gentle, affectionate kiss to your cheek. It was a sweet, fleeting gesture that spoke of deep affection, a moment of intimacy amidst the mundane task of folding clothes. 

This was the first time you had woven your lives together in such a simple, yet profoundly meaningful way. The day had unfolded with a natural ease, as though you both were actors playing out a scene from a well-loved script. The apartment, once a chaotic landscape of disarray, now felt like a canvas being painted with the colors of shared domesticity. 

Jeongin had seized the opportunity of his day off to tackle the untidy corners of his home, a task he had long postponed. Yet, in his desire to make the most of the day, he found himself yearning for your company. You had offered to assist with the chores, with the playful condition that you would also tend to your own laundry in his space. The agreement was made with a lighthearted chuckle, an unspoken promise of more moments like this—simple, joyful, and richly woven with the threads of companionship.

From the edges of your vision, you caught the sight of his dimples making a gentle appearance, etched into his cheeks like sweet indentations. They were the result of the tender smile that danced upon his lips, a subtle curve that spoke of warmth and quiet joy. Drawn to the softness of his expression, you turned to face him fully, your own smile beginning to bloom, pulling at the corners of your mouth with a playful grace.

“What has you so delightfully smiley?” you inquired, your voice tinged with a teasing lilt that fluttered through the air. His response came as a light-hearted chuckle, a sound as soft as a whispering breeze, accompanied by a modest shrug that seemed to carry the weight of his contentment. Seeking to coax more from him, you nudged his arm gently with your elbow, a tender gesture meant to elicit a deeper revelation.

“I don’t know,” he replied, his voice a soft murmur, the smile remaining steadfast and sincere. “I usually find chores like this a bit of a drudge, but today has been different. It’s been so lovely to do this with you.” His heartfelt confession unfurled in the quiet space between you, causing your heart to swell with a warm, affectionate glow. The earnestness in his eyes and the simplicity of his words stirred something deep within you, and a soft, melodic giggle escaped your lips, blending with the gentle rhythm of your shared moment.

In truth, the tapestry of your relationship was still being woven, with threads of time only recently beginning to intertwine. The two of you had yet to travel far from the fresh, unblemished shores of early romance. The incessant fluttering of your hearts, a constant and delicate dance, was a telltale sign that you were still immersed in the radiant bubble of your honeymoon phase. Each shared glance, every fleeting touch, seemed imbued with an ineffable sweetness that colored the world with a softer hue.

In these tender moments, such as folding each other’s clothes, the act felt imbued with a quiet sanctity. What might seem like mundane tasks in the eyes of the world were transformed into sacred rituals between you. Each folded garment was more than just fabric; it was a silent promise, a whispered vow of a future enriched with even more tenderness and intimacy. The simplicity of these acts became a testament to the budding depth of your connection, a gentle assurance that these early days were but the beginning of a beautifully unfolding story.

As you folded the final pair of Jeongin's socks, the rhythmic motion of your hands was accompanied by a contented sigh. Leaning against the table, you turned to face him, your gaze meeting his with an unspoken connection. Moments later, he completed the task of hanging the last of your tops onto a hanger—a humble relic from your own home—his movements graceful and deliberate.

He turned to you, his face illuminated by the same dimpled smile that had captured your heart so effortlessly. “I think this means we’re done cleaning,” you said, a note of cheerful satisfaction in your voice. Jeongin's nod of agreement mirrored your own contentment, his eyes twinkling with shared joy. “How about we watch a movie now? I could make us some popcorn,” you suggested, your voice carrying a hopeful lilt.

As you spoke, you couldn’t help but notice the dreamy expression on his face. It was as though he were enchanted by the sight of you, his gaze filled with a deep, almost reverent adoration. Despite his usual aversion to physical contact, Jeongin’s arms, strong and reassuring, encircled you with a surprising tenderness. The embrace was warm and enveloping, your arms gently pinned between your bodies. Laughter bubbled up, filling the cozy confines of the laundry room with a light, melodious sound.

He looked down at you, his eyes shimmering with an affectionate gleam, his smile broad and adorably sincere. In that moment, you felt yourself melting into the safety of his embrace, a profound sense of belonging washing over you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and joy.

The world around you seemed to dissolve into a serene stillness, each moment stretching languorously as you lost yourself in the profound warmth of his eyes. Their depths seemed to draw you in, a captivating ocean of affection and sincerity. Your fingers, almost unconsciously, traced the delicate chain resting against his chest, their movements a gentle counterpoint to the intensity of his gaze.

In the midst of this tranquil exchange, you were not the least bit surprised when his soft, tender lips met yours in a kiss that was both gentle and deeply heartfelt. The touch was a whisper of warmth and intimacy, a silent promise that spoke volumes. You returned his kiss with equal fervor, your lips melding with his in a dance of shared emotion.

Despite the familiarity of the gesture, the effect on you was anything but ordinary. Your heart, ever so responsive, performed an elegant pirouette within your chest, fluttering with a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and soothing. It was as though each kiss with Jeongin carried a unique magic, a spellbinding effect that rendered each encounter as thrilling as the first. His presence seemed to ignite a vibrant, ineffable energy within you, making even the simplest of moments feel profoundly significant.

As the kiss deepened, its tender embrace seemed to hold time in suspension. Yet, the tranquility of the moment was abruptly interrupted by a voice that sliced through the intimacy like a sudden breeze. "Oh, well I guess not," Seungmin mumbled to himself, his voice laced with bemused resignation as he turned to make his exit.

Before Seungmin could disappear from view, Jeongin’s voice rang out, a note of curiosity threading through his words. “Hey! You guess not what?” Seungmin’s head poked back into the laundry room, his face a mask of nonchalance. He offered a brief, impassive nod in your direction as a greeting, his eyes flickering between you and Jeongin. 

"I just wanted to see if you wanted to go out to eat," Seungmin explained, his tone casual yet inviting. "Channie told me you'd be here. If Y/N wants to join, it’s on me." The offer was accompanied by a small, friendly smile, a gesture of genuine camaraderie.

You returned his smile, your eyes drifting up to meet Jeongin’s as you awaited his response. The two of you exchanged a glance, a silent dialogue unfolding in the brief, wordless moments. Jeongin’s eyes held a spark of consideration, his gaze reflecting the warmth of shared understanding. After a heartbeat of contemplation, he turned back to Seungmin with a decisive nod. "Yeah, we’ll go."

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @stayconnecteed @ihrtlix @unabasheddeanrebellover-blog @zerefdragn33l @bakugohoex @pixiiebutt @chuuyaobsessed @estella-novella @minszn @telemarcs @hannieslovebot @d-chagi @iambangchanswife @j1998v @oc3anfloor @minminmoew @tajannah-price1

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

────* ˚ ✦ CAUGHT IN THE ACT ( stray kids )

❛ The reactions of each member of Stray Kids' Hyung line when they're caught kissing you by another member.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.0k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 32 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This was honestly so much fun to write! Reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Getting caught kissing, established relationship for every member, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

HYUNG LINE | MAKNAE LINE

방찬 ── BANG CHAN.

You stepped into the familiar recording studio, the dim lights casting a soft glow on the walls adorned with musical equipment and notes scribbled in haste. A paper bag filled with snacks and drinks dangled from your hand, its weight a comforting reminder of your routine visits. Your smile radiates warmth as your eyes meet Chan's, who sat hunched over the mixing console. His gaze lifted, revealing a flicker of gratitude despite the heavy shadows of exhaustion under his eyes.

He returned your smile, a faint but genuine curve of his lips that spoke volumes about his weariness. You chose silence, understanding the unspoken need for peace in this creative sanctuary. With gentle steps, you crossed the room, your presence a soothing balm to his fatigue. Leaning down, you placed a tender kiss on his head, a simple gesture of affection that momentarily lifted the burden from his shoulders.

Reaching into the bag, you retrieved a pack of chips and a bottle, offering them to Chan with a reassuring touch. He accepted them gratefully, his fingers brushing against yours in a brief but intimate exchange. You then settled into your usual spot on the leather couch behind him, its familiar creases and scent a comfort in this shared space. With your phone in hand, you prepared to keep yourself entertained, a quiet guardian of his creative process. The studio's ambient hum and the soft rustle of snack wrappers became the soundtrack to this intimate moment, a testament to the silent support that flowed between you.

This had become your usual routine—a cherished ritual that intertwined your lives with comforting regularity. Every other day, you would find yourself here, in the sanctuary of the recording studio, offering your quiet companionship while he immersed himself in his work. Your role was not merely to be present but to eventually coax him away from his intense focus, ensuring he returned home with you for the rest he so desperately needed.

Tonight was no different. You nestled into the familiar embrace of the leather couch, your fingers idly scrolling through social media, a soft glow from your phone illuminating your face. The ambient sounds of the studio enveloped you, a symphony of creativity and dedication. The rhythmic tapping of buttons, the soft click of switches, and the occasional hum of equipment blended into a soothing background noise.

Every now and then, a sigh of frustration would escape Chan's lips, a testament to his tireless pursuit of perfection. You glanced up occasionally, observing the furrow of his brow, the determination etched in his features. His passion was palpable, filling the room with an electric energy that made your heart swell with pride and tenderness.

Despite the ambient hum and your digital distraction, you were attuned to his every move, ready to step in when the time came. The silent understanding between you both was a testament to the deep bond you shared—a bond forged in these moments of mutual support and quiet companionship. This was your routine, a beautiful dance of dedication and care, ensuring that amidst the whirlwind of his creative storm, he found a safe harbor in your presence.

Eventually, Chan wheeled around in his chair, his gaze locking onto you as you lay sprawled across the couch, indulging in a handful of sour gummies. His eyes softened, the weariness momentarily giving way to a tender appreciation for your presence. For a brief moment, he remained still, simply observing you with a small, tired smile.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he lifted himself from his seat, the soft creak of the chair punctuating the silence. Each step he took toward you seemed to carry the weight of his exhaustion, yet there was a lightness in his eyes as he approached. Without warning, he let his body drape over yours, the suddenness of it eliciting a startled yelp from your lips.

His warmth enveloped you, the familiar scent of his cologne mingling with the sweet tang of the gummies you were eating. You quickly dissolved into giggles at his playful actions, your arms instinctively wrapping around his torso in a protective embrace. His presence was a comforting weight, grounding you both in this shared moment of intimacy.

The world outside the studio walls faded away, leaving just the two of you cocooned in a bubble of tranquility. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours, a rhythmic reminder of his presence. Your fingers traced gentle patterns on his back, offering silent reassurance as he melted into your embrace. This was your sanctuary, a haven where exhaustion and stress gave way to love and connection, a beautifully ordinary moment made extraordinary by the simple act of being together.

“Break time?” you asked softly, your voice a gentle melody in the quiet room. Chan responded with a low grunt, his exhaustion evident in the simplicity of his reply. A light giggle escaped your lips, the sound a soft, comforting echo in the studio.

Reaching up, your fingers threaded through the strands of his hair, finding their way to the back of his head. With practiced ease, you began to scratch gently, your touch tender and soothing. Almost immediately, a contented hum rumbled from his chest, a sound that spoke of deep appreciation and relief.

His eyes fluttered closed, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away under your gentle ministrations. You could feel the subtle shifts in his posture, each exhalation a testament to the comfort he found in your presence. This simple act, a small gesture of care, held a profound intimacy that words could not capture.

The room seemed to cocoon you both, the dim light casting soft shadows that danced along the walls. Each scratch of your fingers was a lullaby, a tender reminder of the bond you shared. In this moment, amidst the ambient hum of the studio and the quiet hum of his contentment, time seemed to slow, allowing you to savor the tranquility of your connection.

His breathing deepened, a silent testament to the trust he placed in you, and you continued your gentle caress, your heart swelling with affection. This was your sanctuary, a place where words were unnecessary, and the simple act of touch spoke volumes.

After a while, you were almost surprised to hear him speak. His voice broke the silence, soft and drowsy, since you had been convinced he had fallen asleep on top of you.

His breathing had slowed, and his weight had settled comfortably against you, creating a warm, enveloping cocoon. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours had lulled you into a tranquil state, where the world outside seemed a distant memory.

“Good day today?” he murmured, his words a tender vibration against your skin. The question carried a quiet intimacy, a bridge between the waking world and the serene bubble you both inhabited.

You blinked, the unexpectedness of his voice pulling you from your reverie. A smile curled at your lips as you looked down at him, your fingers stilling momentarily in his hair. The soft light from the studio cast a gentle glow on his face, highlighting the subtle lines of fatigue that framed his eyes.

“It was alright,” you answered with a weak shrug, your eyes remaining fixed on the ceiling. The subtle patterns in the plaster seemed to shift and dance as you reveled in the closeness between the two of you, his warmth a comforting presence against your body.

As you lay there, you felt the weight of the day begin to lift, the quiet intimacy of the moment creating a sanctuary from the world outside. The soft rise and fall of his breathing against you was a soothing rhythm, grounding you in the present.

“I mostly kept to myself today,” you continued, your voice a soft murmur in the tranquil room. “It just felt like such a long day for some reason.”

Your words hung in the air, a quiet confession that carried the weariness of the hours you had endured. Each moment of solitude, each minute that had dragged on, seemed to dissipate now in the comforting embrace of his presence.

Chan shifted, adjusting his position to place his weight on his forearms, which were now on either side of your head. This allowed him to lean back slightly, creating just enough space to gaze down at your face. The closeness of his presence, combined with the tenderness in his eyes, sent a flutter through your heart.

The dim light of the studio cast gentle shadows across his features, softening the lines of exhaustion and highlighting the quiet strength in his expression. His gaze held a mixture of empathy and understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the weariness you both shared.

“It really did feel like an unnecessarily long day for me, too,” he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble that resonated in the small space between you. The words carried a weight of shared experience, a bond forged through mutual understanding and silent support.

His eyes traced the contours of your face, lingering on the subtle nuances of your expression. You could feel the connection between you deepening, each unspoken thought and emotion passing effortlessly between you. His proximity, the warmth of his body, and the gentle cadence of his words created a cocoon of intimacy that enveloped you both.

As you looked up at him, you could see the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a mirror to your own feelings. The shared acknowledgment of the day's trials brought a sense of comfort, a reminder that you were not alone in your struggles.

The room seemed to fade into the background, the ambient sounds of the studio becoming a distant hum. All that mattered in this moment was the quiet exchange between you, a sanctuary of understanding and support. His presence, so close and so tender, was a balm to the fatigue that had weighed heavily on you both throughout the day.

You reached up, your fingers gently brushing against his cheek, a silent gesture of reassurance and affection. His eyes softened even further, and a small, grateful smile played at the corners of his lips. In this moment, the long day seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth of your connection and the promise of shared solace.

The hand that had been tenderly scratching his hair now shifted to cup his cheek, your fingers tracing the delicate curve of his jaw. The touch was gentle, filled with a warmth that only deepened the connection between you. Chan immediately leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savored the contact, a soft smile gracing his lips.

His skin felt warm against your palm, and you could sense the quiet gratitude in the way he pressed closer, finding comfort in the simple gesture. The room around you seemed to hold its breath, the ambient hum of the studio fading into the background as the moment stretched between you.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Chan leaned down, his breath mingling with yours in the intimate space. His eyes met yours for a fleeting second, a silent exchange of affection and understanding, before he pressed a gentle kiss onto your forehead. The contact was tender, imbued with a sweetness that made your heart swell.

As his lips brushed your skin, your eyes fluttered closed, the world around you dissolving into a haze of warmth and closeness. The kiss lingered, a silent promise of care and support that wrapped around you like a comforting embrace. You could feel the soft exhalation of his breath, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and the unspoken words that filled the space between you.

Time seemed to slow, each second stretching into an eternity of quiet connection. Your senses were heightened, every detail of the moment imprinted in your memory—the gentle pressure of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the soothing cadence of his presence. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated intimacy, a sanctuary of love and understanding that transcended the weariness of the day.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes opened slowly, meeting yours with a gaze that spoke volumes. There was a softness there, a tenderness that mirrored your own feelings, and in that shared look, you found a renewed sense of strength and comfort. The weight of the day seemed to lift, replaced by the warmth of his presence and the promise of more moments like this, filled with love and quiet understanding.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, his voice a gentle whisper that seemed to reverberate through the quiet studio. He tucked his head into the crook of your neck, seeking solace in the warmth and familiarity of your embrace. His breath, warm and steady, brushed against your skin, sending a shiver of tenderness down your spine.

You could feel the sincerity in his words, each syllable carrying the weight of his longing and affection. The closeness of his body against yours, the way he nestled into you as if finding his way home, spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings. It was a quiet confession, one that wrapped around your heart and made it swell with love.

“All I could do was watch the time until you finally joined me here,” he continued, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to melt into the air around you. His words painted a vivid picture of his anticipation, the minutes and hours stretching out endlessly as he waited for the moment you would walk through the door.

The imagery of his longing played in your mind, each tick of the clock echoing his silent wish for your presence. You imagined him glancing at the time, his thoughts drifting to you with each passing minute, the studio filled with the hum of his work yet missing the comforting presence that only you could bring.

Your hand moved to gently stroke his hair, your fingers weaving through the soft strands as you offered silent reassurance. The tactile connection was a balm to both your souls, a physical manifestation of the love that flowed between you. His body relaxed further into yours, the tension of the day gradually melting away as he found peace in your embrace.

The room around you seemed to fade into the background, the dim light casting gentle shadows that danced along the walls. It was as if the world had shrunk to encompass only the two of you, a cocoon of intimacy where time moved at its own pace. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing, the steady beat of his heart against yours, created a symphony of togetherness that filled the space with warmth and connection.

As you held him, your heart echoed his sentiments. The hours apart had felt like a lifetime, each moment tinged with the anticipation of being reunited. Now, in the quiet sanctity of the studio, you reveled in the simple joy of being close, of sharing the same breath and heartbeat. This was your haven, a place where love and longing intertwined, creating a tapestry of moments that were as beautiful as they were fleeting.

A blush crept onto your cheeks, a rosy bloom spreading warmth through your skin as his words settled in your heart. Your smile widened, a reflection of the joy and affection that welled up within you. As Chan leaned back to face you once more, his eyes met yours with a gaze that spoke of longing and love.

Without hesitation, you leaned up to capture his lips in a kiss, the movement swift and eager. The initial touch was tender, a sweet brush of connection, but almost unconsciously, you found yourself deepening the kiss. The world around you seemed to blur, the boundaries of the studio fading into insignificance as you lost yourself in the moment.

Chan responded with equal passion, his lips moving against yours in a dance of fervor and intimacy. Each kiss, each caress, was a silent declaration of the emotions that words could not fully convey. The heat of the kiss ignited a spark that spread through your veins, a fiery rush of desire and affection that left you breathless.

As your lips melded together, you could feel his fingers busying themselves, threading through your hair with gentle yet deliberate movements. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, each touch a soothing balm and an electric thrill all at once. His fingertips traced patterns along your scalp, weaving through the strands of your hair in a tender, almost reverent manner.

The kiss deepened further, your senses heightening with every passing second. You could taste the lingering sweetness of his breath, feel the warmth of his skin, and hear the faint rustle of clothing as you both shifted closer. The world outside ceased to exist, the only reality the intoxicating blend of your shared breaths and the soft hum of the studio in the background.

Time seemed to stretch, each moment expanding to hold the fullness of your connection. Your heart raced, its beat a rhythmic echo of the passion that thrummed between you. The kiss was a symphony of emotions, a harmonious blend of love, desire, and an unspoken promise of togetherness.

Just as the kiss began to deepen, an unexpected sound shattered the moment—the door creaking open with an almost comical slowness. The intrusion was abrupt, and both of you were startled from your intimate cocoon. Chan, reacting instinctively, tried to detach himself from you with haste, his sudden movement sending him rolling off the couch.

The transition was less than graceful; he landed rather harshly on the floor beside you, the impact eliciting a low groan from him. He grimaced, immediately starting to rub his lower back in an attempt to soothe the jolt of pain from the fall. The couch, once a haven of warmth and affection, now stood empty and slightly disheveled, a testament to the sudden disruption.

Your eyes shifted to the doorway, where Jisung stood frozen for a split second, his own eyes wide with shock at the scene before him. The surprise in his expression was fleeting, quickly giving way to a playful smirk. His eyebrows wiggled suggestively as he leaned casually against the doorframe, his gaze dancing with mischievous amusement.

The contrast between the intense moment you had shared and the lightheartedness of Jisung's entrance was jarring. As the initial surprise subsided, the atmosphere shifted from one of intimate connection to one of awkward hilarity. The room, now filled with the soft chuckles of Jisung and the embarrassed, lingering blush on your cheeks, felt distinctly different.

You and Chan exchanged glances, your faces flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. Chan’s attempt to regain composure while still rubbing his sore back added to the scene’s comedic effect. In the midst of the disruption, the warmth of the moment seemed to dissipate, replaced by the easy camaraderie of Jisung’s teasing presence.

“I can come back later,” Jisung said, his voice carrying an unmistakable hint of playful suggestion. The words lingered in the air, charged with an amused undertone that made it clear he was fully aware of the scene he had just interrupted.

You responded with an exaggerated roll of your eyes, a playful gesture that contrasted sharply with the initial embarrassment. Your smile, though slightly flushed, held a warmth of shared amusement. The gesture was both a dismissal of the teasing and a silent acknowledgment of the lighthearted banter Jisung was introducing.

Chan, still seated on the floor, let out a soft scoff, the sound a mixture of mild frustration and reluctant humor. His expression, though slightly exasperated, softened as he met Jisung’s teasing gaze. The contrast between the seriousness of the moment and the levity Jisung brought was palpable, and Chan’s reaction spoke to the blend of embarrassment and begrudging acceptance of the interruption.

“Did you need something?” Chan inquired, his voice a mixture of curiosity and residual embarrassment as he pushed himself up from the floor. With a slight wince and a careful stretch, he made his way back to his chair, resettling into the spot he had vacated moments before.

Jisung stepped into the studio, his presence marked by the purposeful stride and the iPad clutched in his hand. He took a seat in one of the empty chairs, his movements deliberate and focused, a contrast to the playful banter that had just filled the room. The iPad, held like a cherished artifact, seemed to hum with the promise of creative endeavor.

“Yeah,” Jisung began, his tone shifting from teasing to serious. The change was palpable, and the lightness that had accompanied his entrance melted away, replaced by a more earnest demeanor. He glanced down at the device in his hands, the weight of his words evident in the subtle tension of his posture.

“I just finished writing this song,” he continued, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. “I thought I might ask you for some feedback.” His gaze met Chan’s with a mix of anticipation and concern. “I’m struggling to find the melody for it, though.”

The request hung in the air, a testament to Jisung’s dedication and the challenge he faced. The room, once charged with the intimacy of your earlier exchange, now buzzed with the promise of collaboration and the earnest pursuit of creative refinement. Chan’s expression shifted to one of thoughtful consideration, his earlier amusement giving way to the focused attention that Jisung’s request deserved.

As Chan prepared to listen, the studio seemed to take on a new energy, one of shared purpose and artistic exploration. The casual comfort of the space, with its soft lighting and the scattered remnants of your earlier moment, now became a haven for the exchange of creative ideas and constructive feedback.

이민호 ── LEE MINHO.

The only sounds that punctuated the tranquil evening were the soft clinks of ceramic and glass as they met and departed in gentle harmony. Minho's hands moved deftly in the soapy water, each dish emerging clean from the frothy embrace of the sink. He would pass the polished plates and gleaming utensils to you with practiced ease, and you would then guide them through a final rinse, the clear water cascading over them like a delicate waterfall.

This rhythmic dance of choreographed movements unfolded in a serene cocoon of silence, where each clink and splash became a soothing symphony of domestic tranquility. The dim light from the overhead fixture cast a warm, golden glow, illuminating the quiet intimacy of the moment.

You leaned closer, resting your head lightly upon Minho’s shoulder, finding solace in the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. The simple act of watching him, so absorbed in his task, filled you with a deep sense of contentment. The harmony of your shared routine seemed to weave a thread of comfort through the evening, binding you both in a quiet, unspoken connection.

Minho had prepared a sumptuous feast, each dish a testament to his culinary prowess. The table was adorned with a vibrant spread of delectable creations, each plate a masterpiece in its own right. As the meal began, the room was alive with a symphony of laughter and lively chatter, the air thick with the aroma of spices and savory delights. The members gathered around, their faces illuminated by the warm light of the overhead lamp, their voices weaving a tapestry of animated conversations.

But now, as the final morsels were savored and the last sips of wine enjoyed, a tranquil silence had settled over the room. The clamor of exuberant laughter had given way to a peaceful hush, the once-bustling table now a haven of contented quiet. The lingering scents of the meal mingled with the soft hum of satisfaction, creating an atmosphere of serene afterglow. Everyone leaned back in their chairs, basking in the lingering warmth of good food and even better company.

The plan had been simple and straightforward: you would take on the task of washing the dishes while Minho, who had diligently prepared the meal, would enjoy a well-deserved rest. Yet Minho, with his unwavering determination, had other ideas. His refusal to let you tackle the chore alone was as steadfast as it was endearing.

With a warm, insistent smile, Minho proposed that you both share the task, transforming the mundane chore into a collaborative effort. His eyes sparkled with a mix of stubbornness and affection, a look that left little room for argument. Despite your initial reluctance and the mild exasperation that accompanied it, you found yourself yielding to his gentle insistence.

The prospect of working side by side, immersed in the rhythmic clinks of plates and the soothing warmth of soapy water, began to take on a new charm. Minho’s determination to be your partner in this small yet significant task softened your resistance, allowing you to embrace the shared experience with a touch of reluctant but genuine fondness.

As Minho passed you the final cup he had washed, the delicate glass cool and smooth in your hands, he turned his attention to rinsing his own hands. The kitchen was bathed in a soft, amber glow from the overhead light, casting gentle shadows that danced across the room. He dried his hands with a kitchen towel, the fabric absorbing the last traces of moisture with a quiet efficiency.

Watching you with a tender gaze, his sharp features softened into an expression of serene affection. The contrast of his usual intensity with this gentle demeanor created a moment of profound intimacy. As you felt the lightest brush of his lips on the crown of your head, a shy smile unfurled on your lips, a silent acknowledgment of the warmth and closeness between you.

After you had finished rinsing the last cup, Minho reached out, offering you the towel he had used. The gesture, simple yet laden with care, spoke volumes of his desire to share this small, endearing ritual. His touch lingered with a quiet intimacy, as if the act of handing you the towel was another way of weaving a thread of connection into the fabric of your shared evening.

"Dinner was delicious, as always, my love," you murmured with a contented sigh, letting the kitchen towel slip from your fingers and fall gently to the floor. You moved closer, enfolding him in a tender embrace. Your arms wrapped around his lean torso, drawing him into the warmth of your affection.

Resting your chin on his chest, you tilted your head upwards to gaze at him with adoration. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek provided a soothing backdrop to your heartfelt gratitude. "Thank you," you whispered softly, your voice a tender caress against the quiet of the evening. In that moment, the simple act of holding each other spoke volumes, a silent testament to the depth of your shared love and appreciation.

A playful twinkle sparkled in his eyes as he looked at you, his smile radiating warmth and affection. His fingers, gentle and reassuring, wove through your hair with a tender touch, as if savoring the moment of closeness.

"I’m glad you enjoyed the meal," he murmured, his voice a soft caress against the quiet. The sincerity of his words was mirrored in the affectionate way he stroked your hair, his touch both soothing and intimate. In that shared, tranquil moment, his gaze and gentle gestures spoke volumes about the care and joy he found in seeing you content.

What began as a fleeting, tender kiss on your cheek had swiftly transformed into a fervent embrace of lips. The gentle touch of his lips ignited a spark, leading to a passionate kiss where your tongues engaged in their well-practiced dance, exploring and intertwining with a fluid grace.

His hands cradled your face with an exquisite tenderness, as though he feared that any more pressure might shatter the delicate connection between you. The way his fingers caressed your cheeks, with such gentle reverence, conveyed a deep sense of reverence and care. Each touch seemed to convey an unspoken promise, a silent pledge to cherish and protect the fragile beauty of the moment.

“Oh—!” A sudden, startled yelp pierced the air, shattering the intimate bubble that had enveloped you and Minho. Heads whipped around in unison to find Yongbok standing at the kitchen entrance, his expression a mix of surprise and awkward hesitation.

He lingered at the threshold, caught between the decision to either step into the room or retreat to the safety of the living room. His stance, poised mid-step with uncertainty written across his face, underscored the unexpected intrusion into what had been a moment of tender privacy.

"Ah," Minho exhaled with a playful whine, his head tilting to the side as if weighed down by exaggerated exasperation. He squeezed his eyes shut, the corners of his mouth curving into a mock frown that was both endearing and dramatic.

"I can’t seem to have a moment of solitude in here," he lamented, his tone laced with a humorous undertone. The theatrics of his gesture and the melodramatic sigh added a layer of lightheartedness to the interruption, making his feigned annoyance all the more charming.

A deep blush colored Yongbok’s cheeks as he bowed his head slightly, offering a silent apology that spoke volumes. His embarrassment was palpable, yet he moved with a purposeful grace, stepping into the kitchen with a mix of shyness and determination.

He made a beeline for the freezer, his movements quick and somewhat furtive. With a swift motion, he retrieved a brand new tub of ice cream, the cool container a stark contrast to the warmth of his cheeks. As he slipped back toward the door, his voice broke through the quiet with an embarrassed yet earnest, “Sorry!” His hasty retreat, accompanied by the muffled sound of the freezer closing, left a lingering trace of his red-faced mortification.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the unfolding scene, the sound a soft ripple of amusement in the otherwise quiet room. Your hands gently rested on Minho’s biceps, feeling the subtle strength beneath his shirt as you turned to face him once more.

Minho was already gazing at you with a look that combined mischief and amusement, his eyes sparkling with a playful light that drew you in. The sight of his tender, yet mischievous expression made your heart flutter, an involuntary blush creeping across your cheeks. The warmth of your blush contrasted with the coolness of the evening, adding a delightful layer to the already enchanting moment.

“Should I escort everyone who doesn’t reside here out?” Minho mused aloud, his index finger tapping thoughtfully against his chin. The gesture was deliberate, a small ritual of contemplation as he considered the crowded scene around him.

He sighed softly, his gaze drifting towards you with a mix of longing and humor. “I’d really appreciate a moment of solitude with my lover,” he continued, his voice tinged with playful exasperation. The desire for privacy was clear in his words, a heartfelt wish for a brief respite from the throng of people that seemed to encircle you both.

Your cheeks flushed deeper at his remark, the warmth of your blush spreading as you playfully slapped his chest with a gentle, teasing motion. “No, I actually enjoy having them here,” you replied, your voice carrying a soft, affectionate tone.

Minho’s reaction was swift and dramatic—he pouted, a look of mock offense crossing his features. His expression was almost comically wounded, adding a layer of endearing charm to his demeanor. “You love them here, too,” he retorted, his voice tinged with a hint of playful reproach. “We don’t get many chances to spend time like this, surrounded by everyone we care about.” His words carried a mix of sincerity and affection, highlighting the rare and cherished moments of togetherness amidst the lively company.

Though Minho recognized the truth in your words, he couldn’t resist the dramatic flair of throwing his head back in an exaggerated display of exasperation. The gesture was both theatrical and endearing, a playful prelude to the amused smile that soon graced his lips as he turned back to face you.

With a gentle peck on your forehead, his affection was palpable and tender, a quiet gesture that spoke volumes. Minho then shifted slightly, subtly encouraging you to step back and make room for him to maneuver. Together, you both ventured back into the living room, where the lively banter of the other members filled the air. Their animated debate over which movie to watch created a backdrop of joyful chaos, adding a touch of familiar, comfortable noise to the evening’s unfolding scenes.

서창빈 ── SEO CHANGBIN.

As you stepped into the familiar confines of the gym, the echo of your footsteps reverberated through the empty space. The dim lighting cast a soft glow on the rows of pristine equipment, all neatly aligned yet untouched, giving the place an almost ethereal quality. It was a sanctuary of solitude, the usual clamor replaced by a serene silence, the gym technically closed to the public. But Changbin, with his special privileges, had always been an exception.

Changbin's eyes sparkled with curiosity as he turned to you, a playful smile dancing on his lips. "What are you going to be working on today?" he inquired, his voice gentle yet brimming with enthusiasm.

You took a moment, savoring the tranquility, before taking a swift sip from your water bottle. "Today, I’ll focus on my arms and chest," you replied, your voice steady and resolute. "But I’m starting with cardio."

Changbin nodded, his expression one of approval and understanding. Leaning in, he pressed a tender kiss onto your cheek, the warmth of his lips lingering like a delicate whisper. He then gently nudged you towards the treadmill, his touch both encouraging and affectionate. "Today's leg day for me," he declared with a soft chuckle, his eyes glinting with determination.

As you began your workout, the rhythmic hum of the treadmill filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soft rustle of your movements. The gym, though silent and still, seemed to come alive with the shared energy and quiet companionship, a testament to the unspoken bond you and Changbin cherished.

Just like that, you both found yourselves immersed in your own worlds, each movement and breath synchronizing with the rhythm of your workouts. The gym seemed to fade away, leaving only the steady cadence of your heartbeats and the pulsating energy of your exertion. 

Your large headphones enveloped your ears, cocooning you in a bubble of high-energy music. Each song, meticulously selected for its invigorating beat, propelled you forward, every stride on the treadmill matching the tempo of the powerful tunes. The music was your fuel, igniting your determination and driving you through each passing minute.

Meanwhile, Changbin was equally engrossed in his routine, his focus unwavering as he pushed through the burn of leg day. The clang of weights and the soft thud of his movements created a rhythm of their own, a testament to his dedication and strength. 

When the thirty minutes finally elapsed, you both reconvened, seeking each other's presence for a much-needed respite. Your breath came in shallow pants, the exertion evident in the slight sheen of sweat glistening on your skin. The treadmill had tested your endurance, leaving you flushed and glowing with the heat of your efforts.

Changbin, too, bore the marks of his intense workout. His face was flushed, and beads of perspiration trickled down his temples. He lifted his water bottle, tilting it back to down a generous portion of the cool liquid, the refreshing sensation bringing a momentary relief from the heat. 

As you caught your breath, the shared silence was comforting, a mutual understanding that needed no words. The gym, still hushed and serene, felt like a haven where both of you could push your limits and find solace in each other’s presence.

"I was watching you while you were running," Changbin remarked after wiping his mouth, his tone carrying a playful edge that made you smirk. His dark eyes sparkled with a mix of admiration and mischief as he continued, "You look so good, it’s not even remotely funny or fair."

You couldn't help but scoff, rolling your eyes at him, but the warmth in his gaze made it impossible to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. Stepping closer to your boyfriend, you felt a surge of affection. The scent of his cologne mingled with the fresh, clean aroma of the gym, creating an intimate bubble around you both.

In one swift motion, you captured his lips with yours, the kiss light and teasing. You giggled, delighting in the surprised look on his face as you pulled away before he had a chance to react. His pout was adorable, a mixture of mock annoyance and genuine desire.

Not one to be outdone, Changbin leaned down, closing the distance between you. His lips found yours again, this time more firmly, conveying a deeper passion and a hint of possessiveness. The kiss was a promise, a silent affirmation of his feelings, and you responded in kind, melting into the moment.

The gym, with its quiet solitude and dim lighting, faded into the background. All that mattered was the connection between you two, the electricity in the air as your lips met and parted. It was a stolen moment of tenderness and playfulness, a testament to the unique bond you shared.

As you should have expected, Changbin wasted no time in reaching up to cradle your face, his fingers tender yet firm against your skin. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and his intent was clear: he wanted to deepen the kiss, to lose himself in the moment with you.

The world seemed to fade away as his lips moved against yours, each touch a testament to his longing. However, before the kiss could escalate, a sudden, sharp sound shattered the tranquility. The door banged open with a loud thud, startling you both apart, your hearts pounding not just from the exertion but from the abrupt interruption.

You and Changbin turned simultaneously, eyes wide with surprise and a hint of annoyance, to find Jeongin standing by the door. His expression was a mixture of embarrassment and amusement, a sheepish smile spreading across his face as he took in the scene.

"I'm sorry," Jeongin began, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I didn't know you guys would need some time—"

He hesitated, glancing between you and Changbin, the awkwardness of the situation apparent. The silence stretched for a moment, thick with unspoken words and the remnants of the interrupted kiss.

Jeongin's smile turned a bit more genuine as he added, "I can give you five minutes to finish, though."

The jab had you cackling, the sound echoing through the gym. Changbin, however, feigned offense, playfully yelling, "Hey! I can last a hell of a lot longer than some measly five minutes!" He huffed dramatically, his pout exaggerated to drive home the point. Jeongin laughed, shaking his head slightly, amused by the spectacle.

"What are you even doing here?" Changbin asked after a beat of silence, curiosity piqued.

Jeongin cocked his head to the side, his expression almost puzzled. "You…we agreed I’d meet you here tonight to work out…" His words trailed off, the memory slowly dawning on him as he spoke.

As if struck by sudden realization, Changbin gasped theatrically, slapping his palm against his forehead. "That’s right! I’m sorry, come in." His apology was earnest, his eyes reflecting a mixture of guilt and amusement.

"Oh, I’d rather not be a third wheel, thank you very much," Jeongin teased, a playful glint in his eyes. You rolled your eyes at him, unable to suppress a smile. The banter was light-hearted, a testament to the easy camaraderie between you all.

Changbin, on the other hand, wasn't about to let his friend off the hook that easily. "Oh, no you don’t!" he called out, his voice booming through the gym. He rushed forward, grabbing Jeongin by the shirt as he attempted to leave, pulling him back into the gym with surprising strength.

Jeongin's protests were half-hearted, more amused than anything else. The scene was almost comical, the gym’s solemnity broken by your laughter and the playful antics of your friends. It was a moment of shared joy, a reminder of the bonds that held you together even in the most mundane of settings.

황현진 ── HWANG HYUNJIN.

You whine softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you press your hand against Hyunjin's forehead to push him away. His persistence is unwavering, though, and he keeps returning with puckered lips and mischievous eyes that sparkle with playful intent. The soft glow of the television casts a warm hue over the room, illuminating his features and accentuating the twinkle in his eyes.

For quite some time now, Hyunjin had been trying to capture your lips with his own, his attempts at stealing kisses becoming increasingly daring. Yet, your focus remained steadfast on the movie playing on the screen. The film’s storyline had finally ensnared your attention, and for once, you wanted to see it through without distractions. You couldn't help but feel a bit guilty, knowing how much Hyunjin craved these intimate moments, but the timing just didn't feel right.

Besides, the living room of the apartment he shared with his roommate, Changbin, didn’t seem like the ideal setting for such affection. The thought of indulging in romantic gestures here, even with the knowledge that Changbin was away at the gym, felt unsettling. The echo of his presence lingered in the air, and the mere idea of it dulled the allure of Hyunjin's advances. The movie provided a convenient shield, a reason to resist the pull of his playful charm, as you both sat close yet worlds apart on the couch.

"Come on," Hyunjin complained, his voice tinged with a playful whine as he pouted, his lips forming a perfect, exaggerated curve. The sight of him like this, with his bottom lip jutting out and his eyes wide with mock disappointment, sent a ripple of amusement through you. Unable to suppress a giggle, you found his expression irresistibly adorable, a stark contrast to his usual confident demeanor.

"Just a little bit, and then I'll leave you alone," he pleaded, his tone a mixture of enticement and surrender. His persistence was endearing, a testament to his desire for your attention and affection. You sighed theatrically, rolling your eyes with feigned exasperation at his dramatic antics, yet a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Hyunjin's charm was a force to be reckoned with, and even in moments like these, he knew exactly how to push your buttons.

"The movie is almost done," you stated, glancing at the television screen and pointing with the remote in your hand. The film's climax was nearing, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of anticipation and relief. "Once the movie is done, I'm all yours — fair?" Your words hung in the air, a promise of undivided attention once the credits rolled. 

Hyunjin huffed in playful defeat, his breath escaping in a soft, theatrical exhale. With a resigned nod, he agreed, then settled himself comfortably on the couch, laying his head on your lap while his feet dangled off the armrest. The weight of his head on your thighs felt familiar and comforting. A chuckle escaped your lips as you unpaused the movie, your fingers instinctively weaving through his long, silken hair, the strands slipping like liquid gold between your fingertips.

There was something endearing about Hyunjin's behavior, how he could be so clingy and needy despite his usual claims of not being a fan of physical affection. It amused you endlessly, this dichotomy of his personality, and you couldn't help but smile at the contrast. His presence was a delightful distraction, one that added a layer of warmth and intimacy to the moment.

As the movie continued to play, you found yourself getting drawn back into the plot, though not without the occasional commentary meant to elicit laughter from Hyunjin. Your whispered remarks and shared giggles created a cozy cocoon of companionship, the outside world fading away as you reveled in the simple pleasure of being together. Each touch, each laugh, each whispered word added another stitch to the tapestry of your shared moments, weaving a bond that felt unbreakable.

When the movie finally came to an end, you barely had a moment to register the closing credits before Hyunjin practically launched himself at you, his lithe form straddling your lap with an impish grin lighting up his face. His eyes sparkled with a playful mischief, and without warning, he began to pepper your face and neck with a flurry of kisses. Each feather-light touch sent delightful shivers down your spine, and you couldn't help but giggle loudly, the sound filling the room with infectious joy.

Despite your best efforts to push him away, your attempts were half-hearted at best, your resolve weakened by the sheer delight of his affectionate onslaught. Hyunjin, ever the tease, quickly caught your wrists in his grasp, pinning them securely to his lap. His grip was firm yet gentle, and his eyes danced with laughter as he resumed his barrage of kisses. The sensation of his lips against your skin, warm and insistent, left you breathless and giddy.

You wriggled and squirmed beneath him, your laughter rising in pitch as you became a squealing, giggling mess. The room seemed to blur around you, the only clarity being the closeness of Hyunjin, the feel of his body pressed against yours, and the sound of his laughter mingling with your own. His kisses were relentless, each one a playful declaration of his affection, and no amount of squirming seemed to deter him.

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only you and Hyunjin, caught in a whirlwind of shared laughter and tender kisses. Your attempts at defense were futile, each wriggle and squeal only serving to encourage him further. Yet, beneath the playful struggle, there was a profound sense of happiness, a blissful contentment that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

Lost in your own bubble of joy and affection, neither of you noticed when Changbin returned from the gym. He stood silently by the doorway, his phone poised in front of his face, capturing the endearing chaos unfolding before him. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he recorded the scene, amused by the playful display of intimacy.

It was only when you turned your head and caught sight of him that a startled yelp escaped your lips. The sound jolted Hyunjin from his revelry, his expression shifting from delight to confusion. "Hey! What are you doing? Are you filming?" you asked with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. The sudden shift in your tone finally alerted Hyunjin to his roommate’s presence.

Changbin’s boisterous laughter erupted, filling the space with a rich, hearty sound. He quickly turned off his phone and shoved it into his pocket, but not before Hyunjin had leapt from your lap, his face a mix of mock outrage and concern. “That’s an invasion of privacy!” Hyunjin declared with exaggerated drama, his voice ringing through the room.

Your laughter mingled with Changbin’s as you shot Hyunjin a teasing look. “Baby, we’re in the living room. This is not a private space for you to be saying that.” Hyunjin’s face fell into a pout, his lower lip jutting out as he glanced at you. 

“Whose side are you on, huh?” he asked, a playful edge to his tone.

Changbin, clearly entertained by the bickering, shook his head with a chuckle as he turned and made his way towards his bedroom. His amusement lingered in the air, a lighthearted reminder of the everyday warmth and camaraderie that filled the apartment. The door closed softly behind him, leaving you and Hyunjin to continue your playful exchange, the echo of laughter still dancing in the room.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @stayconnecteed @ihrtlix @unabasheddeanrebellover-blog @zerefdragn33l @bakugohoex @pixiiebutt @chuuyaobsessed @estella-novella @minszn @telemarcs @hannieslovebot @d-chagi @iambangchanswife @j1998v @oc3anfloor @minminmoew @tajannah-price1

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( 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 ): Release Date: Posted!

💋 CAUGHT IN THE ACT ( stray kids )

❛ The reactions of each member of Stray Kids when they're caught kissing you by another member.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 15.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 62 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Will be split into HYUNG LINE and MAKNAE LINE! This was anonymously requested! Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Getting caught kissing, established relationship for every member except for Felix, Reader is a brat in Seungmin's piece, Seungmin's part is also kinda suggestive but nothing too serious.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

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【 WWW.MINHOSBITTERRIVER.COM/STRAYKIDS 】

💭 GUIDELINES ‣ LIBRARY ‣ TAGLIST & ANONS ‣ REQUEST LIST ‣ PINNED ‣ TIP JAR

📨 REQUESTS ARE CLOSED 📨 WORK COUNT: O22 📨

스트레이 키즈 ── OT8. ( stray kids )

🌏─────SHIBARI | 0.9K — HEADCANONS | MDNI | i love shibari with my entire soul and i feel like we as a society don’t talk about it enough — particularly about how emotional it can be if done right. (GENDER NEUTRAL READER)

🌏─────POTHEADS | 1.8K — HEADCANONS | MDNI | green decides what kind of stoners the stray kids members are. (NO READER) REQUESTED

🌏─────IN THE ABSENCE OF YOU | 4.4K — HEADCANONS | in which the members of stray kids navigate the world of fatherhood without you. (FEMALE READER) REQUESTED

⭐️─────CAUGHT IN THE ACT | 15.6K — HEADCANONS | the reactions of each member of stray kids when they're caught kissing you by another member. (GENDER NEUTRAL READER) REQUESTED

방찬 ── CHAHN BAHNG. ( bang chan )

⭐️─────USE OF THE SAFE WORD | 1.9K — ONE-SHOT | MDNI | chan had always been the sweetest human ever, but after you’d both had a rough week, you both find out that you had different ways of decompressing. (FEMALE READER) REQUESTED

🌏─────HOW HE CARES | 2.2K — ONE-SHOT | an episode of 2 kids’ show reveals just how deep your friendship with chan runs. (FEMALE READER) REQUESTED

🌏─────SAFE HAVEN | 1.6K — ONE-SHOT | chan takes care of you while on your period. (FEMALE READER) REQUESTED

이민호 ── LEE MINHO. ( lee know )

🌏─────I’M ON YOUR SIDE | 1.8K — ONE-SHOT | following the devastating death of your sister, you find yourself navigating a world that throws you into the deep end of piling bills and worries that you were unsure of how to handle. (GENDER NEUTRAL READER) REQUESTED

🌏─────PUPPY LOVE | 1.0K — HEADCANONS | in which high school lee minho is so madly in love with you that he's willing to follow you anywhere, anytime. (MALE READER) REQUESTED

⭐️─────BONDS OF PASSION | 7.2K — ONE-SHOT | MDNI | in a night of profound emotional connection and intimacy, you and minho explore your bond through the intricate art of shibari, culminating in a tender embrace that deepens your love and gratitude. (FEMALE READER) REQUESTED

서창빈 ── SEO CHANGBIN. ( changbin )

🌏─────WHEN COLORS CARESS | 2.8K — ONE-SHOT | MDNI | you and your lover, changbin, explore the depths of your relationship through an intimate art session, where changbin’s skin becomes your canvas for emotional expression. (GENDER NEUTRAL READER) REQUESTED

황현진 ── HWANG HYUNJIN. ( hyunjin )

🌏─────ERASE ME FROM YOUR MEMORY | 0.6K — ONE-SHOT | half a year after you and hyunjin break up, you find that you’ve somehow healed. (GENDER NEUTRAL READER)

🌏─────CINEMATIC SECRETS | 3.2K — ONE-SHOT | MDNI | in the hushed shadows of an empty cinema, you and hyunjin find yourselves doing anything except watch the film. (MALE READER) REQUESTED

⭐️─────RAIN-SWEETENED HEARTS | 4.5K — ONE-SHOT | MDNI | on a rainy evening, a deepening connection unfolds between you and hyunjin as you explore your newfound intimacy in the cozy sanctuary of your studio apartment. amidst clumsy yet heartfelt moments, your bond blossoms into a magical dance of tenderness and desire, celebrated under the gentle rhythm of the falling rain. (FEMALE READER) REQUESTED

한지성 ── HAN JISUNG. ( han )

🌏─────‘TILL FOREVER FALLS APART | ~7.2K — SERIES | MDNI | in which two disabled idols find comfort in each other’s arms. (FEMALE READER) STATUS: ON-GOING TAGLIST: OPEN

이용복 ── LEE YONGBOK. ( felix )

🌏─────EVERYTHING IS YOU | 3.3K — ONE-SHOT | through every single hardship you’ve ever endured, felix always waited for you, ready to bring you into the safety of his embrace. so when you’re stuck amidst the complicated emotions following your father’s passing, the first and only person you sought for comfort was your best friend. (GENDER NEUTRAL READER) REQUESTED

⭐️─────THE LAST STRAW | 3.5K — ONE-SHOT | after a final argument with your toxic, manipulative mother over your irresponsible younger brother, you decide to cut ties with your family, only to be overwhelmed by doubt and panic until your supportive boyfriend, felix, reassures you that choosing yourself was the right decision. (GENDER NEUTRAL READER) REQUESTED

김승민 ── KIM SEUNGMIN. ( seungmin )

🌏─────YOU CAN BURST INTO FLAMES | 1.2K — ONE-SHOT | seungmin helps you get through a thunderstorm by showering you with tender love and singing to you. (GENDER NEUTRAL READER)

⭐️─────STILL FRAMES | 7.5K — ONE-SHOT | after fainting during a photography class outing, you're tenderly cared for by a seemingly cold classmate, seungmin, leading to an unexpected and heartwarming connection between the two of you. (GENDER NEUTRAL READER)

양정인 ── YANG JEONGIN. ( i.n )

🌏─────BLAME ME IF YOU WANT | 1.1K — ONE-SHOT | you deluded yourself into thinking you and jeongin were meant to last forever. but after some time where he felt distant, you come to find out why. (GENDER NEUTRAL READER)

🌏─────EUPHORIA | 3.4K — ONE-SHOT | MDNI | as you and jeongin engage in an intense and synchronized exploration of your desires, the pleasure between you reaches a crescendo. your intimate connection is solidified with tender expressions of love and a deep, satisfying closeness that comes with trying new things. (FEMALE READER) REQUESTED

⭐️─────ECHOES OF US | 12.6K — LONG-FIC | after a painful breakup, you and jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you. (GENDER NEUTRAL READER) REQUESTED

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

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