Okay your writing is SO insane and then I saw your age and holy sh!t if your writing is this good already then what will it be like in a few years? Your angst leaves my chest physically aching (in the best way), your fluffy writing makes me all warm and cozy and your nsfw stuff is so beautifully written, too? INSANE.
That being said, I have a request for an angsty but happy ending fic for Seungmin x reader? We all know Seungmin is a slim toned KING but what if reader was plus size and the closer she gets to Seungmin, the more her feelings grow and the more her insecurities grow, too? But Seungmin tries to make a move and reader stops him bcos she can’t see how he could possibly be interested in someone like her. Reader then overhears Seungmin later discussing it all with a fellow member when she comes to talk to him about it and gets angry bcos she misunderstands and thinks he’s using her insecurities as gossip. And then Seungmin is the confused babe he is but wants reader and WORKS FOR IT and wants reader to understand that he would like her no matter what.
Completely understand if this isn’t up your street, I just love the idea of SKZ liking someone no matter their size and I don’t see many fics w plus size!
MORE TO LOVE
pairing: Kim Seungmin x reader
genre: friends-to-lovers, angst with comfort, emotional healing, slice of life
summary: When years of insecurity collide with a long-simmering confession, you risk losing your best friend, Kim Seungmin, before realizing that love isn’t about perfection, but about being truly seen and chosen.
word count: ~4.6k
c/w: body image insecurity, negative self-talk, emotional distress
a/n: Thank you so much for this message. I genuinely had to sit and stare at my screen for a minute because what do you even say to something that kind? I’m really grateful that my writing could make you feel things, whether that’s chest-aching angst or soft, cozy warmth and thank you for trusting me with this idea and for sharing such thoughtful words. I hope this story makes you feel seen, chosen, and a little less alone. ^3^
➤ skz masterlist (REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!)
The air in the practice room was thick, humid with the heat of exertion and the low, steady hum of the air conditioning trying - failing - to combat it. You sat on the floor against the mirrored wall, knees pulled to your chest, watching them. It was a privilege, really, being here. Being the friend who got to witness the magic, the late-night practices that turned into something sharper, something dangerous.
Your eyes drifted, traitorously, to Seungmin.
He was in the center, his body glistening with sweat, his t-shirt clinging to his torso like a second skin. And God, what a torso it was. He wasn't bulky like Changbin, wasn't as broadly cut as Chan, but Seungmin was… carved. Lean muscle shifted under tanned skin as he went through the steps of the routine, his movements precise, powerful, controlled. His arms, defined and steady, cut through the air. His waist tapered, hip bones jutting sharply against the waistband of his sweat-dampened joggers.
He was beautiful. Ethereal. And he was your best friend.
"You're staring," a voice whispered in your ear.
You jumped, nearly knocking over your water bottle. Felix grinned down at you, his eyes twinkling with that knowing, sunshiney mischief that made it impossible to stay mad at him.
"I am not," you hissed, turning your gaze resolutely back to the center of the room, where Seungmin was now adjusting his hair, oblivious to your panic.
"You were," Felix countered, dropping down to sit beside you. "You were doing that thing. Where your eyes get all big and sad and you look at him like he's a piece of art you're not allowed to touch."
"Shut up, Lix."
"It's cute," he said, bumping his shoulder against yours. "He was staring back, you know. During the break."
Your heart did a traitorous little flip. "He was looking for his water. You were holding it."
"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that." Felix nudged you again, softer this time. "He likes you, Y/N. Like, likes you. It's painfully obvious to everyone. Except maybe you."
You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat, ignoring the way his words soothed and stung all at once. Felix was sweet. Felix was a liar. A well-meaning liar, but a liar nonetheless. Because it wasn't obvious. It was impossible.
You looked down at yourself, at the way your thighs spread comfortably against the hardwood floor, at the soft curve of your stomach that was never, ever going to be flat. You thought about the way Seungmin looked, all sharp angles and effortless grace, and you felt a familiar, heavy weight settle in your chest.
No. He didn't like you. Not like that.
The confession happened a week later.
You were at the dorm, crammed onto the couch with Seungmin and a blanket that smelled faintly of fabric softener and him. It was a movie night, a rare occurrence where everyone was actually home and not asleep before ten. The room was dark, lit only by the flickering light of the TV screen, the low rumble of explosions and dialogue filling the comfortable silence.
You were hyper-aware of him. You always were. The heat radiating from his thigh where it pressed against yours. The steady rhythm of his breathing. The way his arm would occasionally brush yours as he reached for the popcorn bowl balanced on your lap.
It was torture. It was heaven.
He leaned in closer during a quiet scene, his voice a low rumble in your ear that sent shivers down your spine. "This doesn't make any sense," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. "Why would they go back there? It's a death trap."
"I know," you whispered back, your voice barely audible, terrified that if you spoke any louder he'd hear the frantic pounding of your heart. "It's stupid."
He huffed a soft laugh, a sound that vibrated through your entire body. Then he shifted. He turned, his gaze fixing on you, and in the dim light of the TV, his eyes were dark, intense.
"You know," he said, and his voice had dropped an octave, gone serious. "I was thinking about what you said last week. About… not feeling good enough for that promotion at work."
You froze. "Yeah?"
He nodded slowly, his eyes searching yours. "I think you're wrong."
The air left your lungs. "What?"
"You sell yourself short," he said, and he reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. The touch was so gentle, so tender, it made your eyes burn. "You're smart, and you're funny, and you're… you're beautiful, Y/N. You don't see it, but I do. And everyone else does too."
Your brain short-circuited. Beautiful. Kim Seungmin, the Kim Seungmin, had just called you beautiful.
But instead of joy, a cold, creeping dread filled your veins.
Because he was looking at you with that soft, earnest expression, the one that made his fans swoon, the one that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. And you knew - you knew - that it was a lie. Or worse, a pity compliment. He felt sorry for you. He was your friend, and he knew you were insecure, and he was trying to make you feel better.
The thought was sickening.
You pulled away from his touch, the movement sharp and jerky. "Don't," you said, your voice trembling.
He frowned, his hand hovering in the space between you. "Don't what?"
"Just… don't." You scrambled off the couch, grabbing your bag as you stood, your movements clumsy and desperate. "I have to go."
"Y/N, wait - " He started to stand, reaching for you.
"No!" You backed away, wrapping your arms around yourself, hating the way your voice cracked, hating the tears that were already stinging your eyes. "Please, Seungmin. Just… don't. I can't do this."
You didn't wait for his response. You turned and fled, ignoring the confused calls from the other members as you shoved your feet into your shoes and burst out the door.
You avoided him for three days.
Three days of ignored texts, of dodged calls, of taking the long way to the break room at work just in case he decided to stop by. It was childish, and it was cruel, but you couldn't face him. Not yet. You needed the gnawing feeling of inadequacy to subside, just a little, before you could look him in the eye again.
By the fourth day, you were a wreck. You missed him. You missed his laugh, his dry wit, his stupidly perfect face. So, when you saw him sitting alone at a table in the back of the small café near their company building, your feet moved before your brain could catch up.
He was slumped over his phone, a cup of untouched coffee growing cold in front of him. He looked tired. Exhausted, really.
Your resolve crumbled. You approached the table, your heart in your throat.
"Seungmin?"
His head snapped up. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, a mixture of relief and lingering hurt that made your stomach twist. Then he carefully set his phone down.
"Y/N," he said, his voice flat. "You're talking to me."
"I'm sorry," you rushed out, pulling out the chair opposite him. "I am so, so sorry. I just… I panicked."
"I noticed." He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a defensive gesture, one you'd seen him use a hundred times in interviews when he was tired of answering the same question. "Was it something I said?"
You opened your mouth, then closed it. How could you explain? You called me beautiful and I freaked out because I don't believe you? That sounded pathetic.
"I just…" You started, then stopped, shaking your head. "I think we got our wires crossed. About… us. About whatever you were trying to say the other night."
"What was I trying to say?" he challenged, his eyes narrowing slightly.
You took a deep breath, forcing the words out. "You were being nice. You're a nice person, Seungmin. You're a good friend. And you saw that I was feeling down about myself, and you wanted to make me feel better. But please… don't say things like that if you don't mean them. It just makes it harder."
Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. You watched his face, trying to decipher his thoughts, but his expression was carefully blank.
Then he let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Nice," he repeated, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. "You think I was just being nice?"
"Weren't you?" you countered, your voice rising slightly in frustration. "What else could it be? You're Kim Seungmin. You could have anyone. You have girls throwing themselves at you literally every day. Why would you want…" You gestured vaguely at yourself. "…this?"
He stared at you, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly open. For a long, horrible moment, he didn't say anything. He just looked at you, his gaze tracing your face, your shoulders, the softness of your body that you so despised.
Then he stood up. "I need some air," he muttered, and he walked past you, out the door.
You sat there, stunned, the
bittery dregs of regret filling your mouth. You had done it. You had ruined it. You had taken his kindness, his friendship, and twisted it into some pathetic self-loathing session and shoved it back in his face.
You buried your face in your hands, fighting the urge to scream. You needed to leave. You needed to apologize properly, to grovel if you had to, but not here. Not in the middle of a café where half the people were already looking at you with pity.
You grabbed your bag and stood up, turning to head for the exit. But as you moved, a flash of familiar fabric caught your eye through the window.
Seungmin hadn't left. He was standing just outside the glass door, pacing a small strip of sidewalk. And he wasn't alone.
Felix was there. And Hyunjin.
They had likely been nearby, perhaps grabbing lunch or heading back to the studio. They had stopped, their faces concerned as they talked to their member. You saw Seungmin gesturing wildly, his hands cutting through the air, looking more agitated than you’d ever seen him.
Your heart plummeted. You needed to fix this. You needed to go out there and explain that you were an idiot, that you were scared, but that you valued him more than anything.
You pushed the door open, the bell chiming cheerfully above you, a stark contrast to the storm raging in your chest. You stepped onto the sidewalk, intending to call his name, to cut through the tension.
But the words died in your throat as you heard his voice, sharp and clear over the midday traffic.
"She literally said I could have anyone," Seungmin was saying, his voice tight with frustration. "She looked me in the face and told me I was just being 'nice' because I felt sorry for her."
Hyunjin let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Wow."
"I know," Seungmin ran a hand through his hair, messing up the perfect styling. "I don't know what to do. I've been trying for months, Hyunjin. Months to show her I'm interested. And she still thinks it's some kind of pity project? Like I'd date her out of charity?"
Pity project.
The words hit you like a physical blow. They knocked the wind out of you, leaving you gasping, your vision blurring with a sudden, hot wash of tears.
He was talking about you. He was talking about your insecurities, your deepest, most shameful fears, and he was laughing about them with his friends. He was confirming every nightmare you’d ever had - that you were a joke to him. That your weight, your body, your lack of confidence were just inconveniences he had to deal with because you were friends.
"She’s got it in her head that she’s… unworthy," Felix said softly, trying to placate him. "You know how she gets, Seungmin-ah."
"I do know," Seungmin snapped. "That’s why I tried to tell her! I tried to tell her she’s beautiful, that I don't care about - "
"Save it," you choked out.
The three of them froze.
Seungmin spun around, his eyes going wide when he saw you standing there. The color drained from his face. "Y/N."
You were shaking. You were vibrating with a mixture of rage and humiliation so potent you felt nauseous. How dare he? How dare he pretend to care, pretend to be this saintly friend, and then go outside and gossip about how pathetic you were?
"You're talking about me," you said, your voice trembling but gaining strength. "You're talking about my insecurities like they're… like they're a funny anecdote for the guys."
"What? No, that's not - " Seungmin stepped toward you, reaching out.
"Don't touch me," you spat, flinching away. "God, I came out here to apologize. I came out here to tell you that I was an idiot for doubting you. And instead, I find out you're just mocking me behind my back."
"Mocking you?" Seungmin’s brow furrowed, confusion warring with the hurt in his eyes. "I wasn't mocking you. I was venting because you hurt me."
"Venting?" You let out a hollow laugh. "Venting about how hard it is to deal with the fat girl who thinks she has a chance with you? Venting about how much of a 'pity project' I am?"
"Pity project?" He repeated, his voice rising now too. "Is that what you think I said? You think I called you a pity project?"
"You literally just said the words, Seungmin!" You shouted, uncaring of the people staring on the street. "You said, 'Like I'd date her out of charity?' That's what you think this is? That I want your charity?"
"Because that's what you accused me of!" he yelled back, his composure cracking. "I said that to prove a point! I was angry that you think so little of me that you'd assume I'm shallow enough to only date someone who looks like - like - "
He gestured helplessly at himself, at the idol standard.
"I didn't say that," you whispered, tears streaming down your face now. "I never said you were shallow."
"But you implied it!" Seungmin took a step closer, ignoring your flinch, his eyes burning with an intensity that pinned you to the spot. "You think the only reason I could possibly like you is if I'm taking pity on you? Because that says a hell of a lot more about what you think of me than what you think of yourself."
You just shook your head, unable to process his words through the haze of your pain. It was too much. The humiliation, the confrontation, the sheer overwhelming weight of your own inadequacy bearing down on you.
"I can't do this," you sobbed. "I can't be here. I can't be… this to you."
You turned and ran. You didn't look back. You didn't hear Felix calling your name, or Hyunjin's surprised exclamation. You just ran, your chest heaving, your heart shattering into a thousand jagged pieces as you fled down the sidewalk, leaving Seungmin standing there, looking more lost than you had ever seen him.
You locked your door. You turned off your phone. You pulled the covers over your head and decided you were never coming out again.
It was a solid plan. A flawless plan.
Except that twenty-four hours later, someone was knocking on your door.
You ignored it. You squeezed your eyes shut and pulled the pillow tighter over your ears.
"Y/N."
You stilled. It wasn't a figment of your imagination. It was him.
"Y/N, I know you're in there. Your car is outside."
You remained silent, praying he would just give up. Praying he would realize you were a lost cause and leave you to wallow in your misery.
"I'm not leaving," he said through the wood. His voice was muffled, but you could hear the steely determination underneath it. "I will stand here and knock all night. I'll sing. I'll scream. I'll wake up your neighbors. I will do whatever I have to do to get you to open this door."
He would, too. That was the thing about Seungmin. He was stubborn. He was the most persistent person you knew. Once he set his mind to something, he didn't let go.
You groaned, throwing the covers off with violence. You dragged yourself out of bed, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror - puffy eyes, tangled hair, pajamas that had seen better days - and winced.
Great. This was really going to convince him you were a catch.
You shuffled to the door, unlocked it, and swung it open without checking the peephole. "What?"
He was standing there, a plastic bag in one hand and his other hand raised as if to knock again. He looked… he looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, looking more like a tired college student than an idol.
He lowered his hand, his gaze scanning your face, taking in the tear-stained cheeks and the mess of your hair. His expression softened, just a fraction.
"Hi," he said softly.
"What do you want, Seungmin?" You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to hide. "I think you said enough the other day."
"No," he said firmly. "I didn't. I didn't say nearly enough." He held up the plastic bag. "I brought tteokbokki. And that sweet drink you like from that place by the studio. The one that's way too sugary."
You stared at the bag. Your stomach gave an involuntary growl, betraying you. You hadn't eaten since the meltdown at the café.
He heard it. A small, almost-smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Can I come in? Please?"
You hesitated. Every instinct was screaming at you to send him away, to protect yourself from further humiliation. But you were weak. You were so incredibly weak for him.
"Fine," you muttered, stepping aside. "But if you're here to tell me I'm crazy again, you can leave."
"I won't," he promised. He walked into your apartment, slipping off his shoes. He knew his way around, of course. He made a beeline for the small table in your kitchenette, setting down the bag and starting to unpack the containers.
You hovered near the doorway, watching him. It felt surreal.
Two days ago, he was confessing his feelings. Yesterday, you were screaming at him on a sidewalk. Today, he was unpacking takeout on your chipped laminate table like nothing had happened.
"Pork belly," he announced, setting down a steaming container. "And extra cheese on the tteokbokki, because I know you're going to need the serotonin."
He didn't look at you. He just moved with efficient, practiced grace, popping lids, stirring sauces. It was domestic. It was terrifying.
"Seungmin," you said, your voice weak. "Stop."
He paused, a pair of chopsticks in his hand. He took a slow breath and finally turned to face you. He leaned back against the edge of the table, crossing his ankles, and looked at you. Really looked at you. Not with pity, not with mockery, but with a steady, unyielding gaze that made you want to squirm.
"You ran away," he said quietly.
You nodded, your throat tight.
"You accused me of pitying you."
"I thought…" You started, then stopped. "I heard what you said to Hyunjin. About the 'pity project.'"
Seungmin closed his eyes for a second, letting out a long, frustrated exhale. When he opened them, they were blazing. "I was angry, Y/N. I was hurt. I poured my heart out to you, told you that I wanted you, that I think you're beautiful, and your immediate reaction was to reject it because you don't think you're good enough. Do you know how that feels?"
You looked down at your socked feet. "I know. I'm sorry."
"No, I don't think you do," he pushed off the table and took a step toward you. You backed up instinctively, hitting the wall. He stopped, respecting the boundary, but his presence filled the small hallway. "It feels like you're calling me a liar. It feels like you think I'm so shallow, so obsessed with image, that I couldn't possibly genuinely want a woman who isn't a size zero."
"I don't think you're shallow," you whispered.
"Then why?" The question hung in the air, heavy and desperate. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I like you? Just you?"
"Because look at you!" The words burst out of you, fueled by days of suppression. You gestured at him, taking in the sharp jawline, the defined collarbones peeking out from the neck of his hoodie, the lean strength of his body. "You're… you're Seungmin. You're an idol. You spend half your life getting photographed, looking perfect. You’re fit and you’re gorgeous and everyone wants you. And I'm…" You gestured helplessly at yourself. "I'm not. I'm soft. I take up space. I'm not… I'm not the kind of person someone like you ends up with. It just doesn't happen in the real world."
Seungmin stared at you, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of realization in his eyes. A sadness that broke your heart all over again.
"You're right," he said.
Your breath hitched. A physical pain shot through your chest. You wrapped your arms around yourself, bracing for the impact. "Right."
"I am an idol," he continued, his voice dropping lower, taking another slow step forward. "I am photographed all the time. I am held to a standard that is unrealistic and frankly exhausting. I spend hours in the gym. I count my macros. I worry about my chin angle in lighting." He stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could smell his cologne - something woody and clean. "And do you know what that does to a person, Y/N?"
You shook your head, unable to speak.
"It makes you feel like a product," he said softly. "It makes you feel like your body is public property, something to be critiqued and molded and perfected. It makes you feel like you have to be… hard. Sharp. Unbreakable."
He reached out, and this time, you didn't flinch away. His hand hovered near your waist, not touching, just close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.
"I spend my whole day having to be that," he whispered. "I spend my whole day around people who are chasing the same impossible ideal. We’re all just trying to survive in the glass jar."
His hand finally settled on your waist. His palm was warm, firm, and it spanned the curve of your hip with a possessiveness that made your knees weak. He pulled you slightly toward him, closing the gap.
"But when I'm with you," he said, his eyes searching yours, "I don't feel like a product. I don't feel like I have to suck in my stomach or worry about my jawline. I feel… real. I feel like I can just be Seungmin. The guy who likes bad movies and cheesy tteokbokki and who thinks the girl sitting in front of him is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen."
You let out a shaky breath, tears spilling over again, but this time they were silent. "I'm not beautiful like the girls you see on stage," you choked out.
"Good," he said, with a sudden, fierce intensity that startled you. "I don't want you to be like them. I don't want sharp lines. I don't want cold perfection. I want you."
His hand moved from your waist, sliding up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast, accidental but electric, before settling on your ribcage. He held you like you were something precious, something substantial.
"I like that you take up space," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips, then back to your eyes. "I like that you're soft. I like that when I hold you, I actually feel you. I like that there's more to love."
He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. It was an intimate gesture, overwhelming in its simplicity. You could feel his breath mixing with yours, fast and shallow.
"It drives me crazy," he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. "It drives me crazy that you look in the mirror and see something wrong, when all I see is… everything I've ever wanted. It drives me crazy that you think I'd settle for you, when the truth is, Y/N…" He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his own eyes shining wetly. "You're the one who's out of my league. You're the one who's too good for a guy who's constantly traveling, constantly tired, constantly pretending to be someone he's not."
You let out a wet, incredulous laugh. "That's ridiculous. You're Kim Seungmin."
"I'm a guy who is desperately in love with his best friend," he said, cutting through your bullshit with surgical precision. "And she's trying to push him away because she doesn't trust his taste."
The words hung in the air. In love.
"You love me?" you whispered.
"I do," he said, without a hint of hesitation. "I have for a long time. I love your laugh. I love the way you scrunch your nose when you're confused. I love the way you look in my hoodies. And I love your body. I love every inch of it. And I'm going to spend as much time as it takes to convince you of that, if you'll let me."
He was close. So close. The smell of him, the warmth of him, the sheer solidity of him. It was an anchor in the storm of your own mind.
You looked at him - really looked at him. Past the idol facade, past the perfectly styled hair and the designer clothes. You saw the boy you had stayed up all night talking to. The boy who brought you medicine when you were sick. The boy who was currently holding you like you were the most important thing in the world, despite the fact that you were wearing yesterday's pajamas and your eyes were puffy from crying.
He wasn't lying. Seungmin was many things - sarcastic, stubborn, sometimes brutally honest - but he was not a liar. Especially not about this. Not when it mattered.
"Okay," you breathed out. It was barely a sound, but he heard it.
"Okay?" He searched your face. "Okay as in… you believe me?"
"Okay as in…" You hesitated, then reached out, your hands tentatively resting on his chest. You could feel the steady thump of his heart under your palms. "Okay as in, I'm scared to death, but I want to try. I want to believe you."
A slow smile spread across his face. It wasn't his idol smirk, or his polite press-conference smile. It was soft, and genuine, and it crinkled the corners of his eyes in a way that made your chest ache.
"That's a start," he said softly. "That's all I ask."
He didn't kiss you. He didn't push. He just wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a hug. It was tight, and firm, and he buried his face in your neck, breathing you in. You let yourself sink into him, your hands tangling in the fabric of his hoodie. For the first time in a long time, the voice in the back of your head - the one that whispered you're not enough - went quiet.
You’re at a bar with your friends and you’re already pretty tipsy. You’re not even sure how, but your phone ends up in your best friend’s hands, and she decides to do the right thing: call your boyfriend.
“Chan?” she asks when he picks up. “Hey, sorry.. I think you should come pick up your girlfriend… she’s… very happy.”
Chan sighs on the other end, but you can hear the smile in his voice.
“‘Very happy’ as in ‘singing’ or ‘I’m about to climb on the table’?” he asks.
Your friend laughs.
“Let’s just say she was singing your ‘la-la-la’ part but… um… it’s not even one of your songs.”
“Perfect” Chan chuckles softly. “Send me the location, I’m on my way. And please don’t let her get on anything elevated.”
Meanwhile, you’re at the bar, wrestling with an olive that slipped off your fork.
“Don’t leave…” you tell the air, giggling. “I love you too, olive.”
Twenty‑five minutes later, Chan walks into the bar with a cap and mask on, trying to stay low‑key. Your friends recognize him immediately and wave him over. You, on the other hand, are staring at the cocktail menu upside down.
The moment you look up and see him, you transform.
“THAT’S MY BOYFRIEEEEND!” you yell, throwing your arms up like you’ve just seen your ult at a fanmeeting.
A few heads turn. Chan closes his eyes for a second, resigned, but when he sees your flushed cheeks, bright eyes and overflowing smile, his whole expression softens.
“Hey, superstar.” He comes up to the table, giving your friends a small bow. “Has she been very loud?”
“Only a little” your friend lies, laughing. “She hasn’t stopped talking about you though.”
“Of course” you say, pointing at him with a slightly uncoordinated finger. “He’s… he’s my… how do you say it… my… legalised crush.”
Chan bursts out laughing.
“‘Legalised crush’? I’m keeping that one.”
He drapes his jacket over your shoulders, buttoning it himself. His scent hits you all at once and you sigh dramatically.
“You smell…” You lean in to sniff his neck. “You smell like home.”
Your friends exchange a collective “awww” look. Chan shakes his head, but he’s grinning from ear to ear.
“Come on, drunkie” he helps you stand. “Say bye to your friends before you confess your love to the whole bar.”
“I already did…” you mumble. “I told them my boyfriend is the most handsome in the world and no one can argue.”
“That’s true, but you didn’t have to say it that loud,” he jokes.
In the car, Chan drives slowly. One hand on the wheel, the other going back and forth between resting on your knee and holding your hand, squeezing gently whenever you mumble something.
“Chan…”
“Yeah?”
“Do you know you’re more handsome than beer?”
He arches a brow, amused, eyes still on the road.
“I sure hope so. Otherwise we’ve got a problem.”
“Beer doesn’t have dimples” you reply, reaching over to poke his cheek. “You do. I want them.”
“Hey, don’t touch my face so much while I’m driving, dangerous drunk” he laughs. “I’m gonna crash the car because of you.”
“Is the car more important than me?” you ask, deeply offended.
He laughs harder.
“Of course not. But I want both of us to make it home in one piece” he says, giving your hand a light squeeze. “And tomorrow too.”
At a red light, he turns slightly toward you. Your eyes are half‑closed, a silly smile on your face, head tilted against the headrest.
“I missed you” you murmur, almost in a whisper. “Even though I was with you on WhatsApp…”
“You’ve spent the whole night sending me blurry selfies of your drink” he says, trying not to laugh. “And telling me ‘look, my boyfriend in my heart’ while filming your chest.”
Your eyes fly open.
“I did that?”
“Yup. I have proof. I’m saving it for the next time you say you’re not affectionate.”
The light turns green and he starts driving again, still smiling.
“Chan…”
“Again?”
“Thanks for coming” you whisper. “You could be sleeping.”
“I could” he admits. “But I’d rather come get my legalised crush before she ends up singing on a table.”
“I thought about it…” you confess, very serious. “But I didn’t. Because I respect you.”
He laughs so hard he has to clear his throat.
“Thank you for respecting me by not climbing on a table” he says. “I really appreciate it.”
You get to the parking lot. Chan parks carefully, gets out first, then opens your door.
“Okay, one step. There you go. Another. Good job, drunk baby.”
“Don’t call me drunk…” you pout, clinging to his arm. “Call me… yours.”
Chan freezes for a second, looking at you like he just took a direct hit to the heart.
“Okay, that killed me a little” he admits, wearing a stupidly soft smile. “Come on, mine.”
In the elevator, you catch sight of your reflection in the mirror and pull a face.
“I look ugly…” you complain.
“You look drunk” he corrects. “But you’re still gorgeous. And mine, which is worse.”
“You’re love‑blind” you say, pointing at him.
“Absolutely” he agrees.
Back home, he leads you to the bed, sits you on the edge and crouches down to take your shoes off.
“You’re going to hate heels tomorrow” he comments.
“I already hate them now…” you answer, watching how carefully he undoes the strap around your ankle. “You’re so gentle… I like it.”
He shoots you a quick look, eyes shining.
“Yeah, well, I don’t want you faceplanting on the floor” he teases.
He leaves you sitting while he goes to get water and medicine. When he comes back, you’re hunched over, staring at your hands.
“Hey” he taps your knee lightly. “You’re very focused for three in the morning.”
“I was thinking…” you look up. “What if you get bored of me one day?”
Chan goes still. He sighs softly, sits next to you and tilts your face toward him with two fingers.
“I’m only bored when you’re not around” he says, holding your gaze. “I spent the whole night refreshing our chat like an idiot.”
You just stare at him, eyes glassy from the alcohol… and emotion.
“I love you a lot, you know?” you murmur.
He smiles, softer this time.
“I know. And I love you too. Now, water.” He hands you the glass. “Big sip, please.”
You drink, pouting.
“It tastes like nothing…”
“It tastes like ‘tomorrow you won’t hate me’” he replies.
He eases you down, pulls the blanket over you and starts to get up, but you grab his wrist.
“Stay…”
“I was already planning on it” he chuckles. “Where would I go?”
He slips into bed next to you. You automatically roll towards him, press your face into his chest.
“Chan…”
“Last thing you say tonight, okay?” he warns you, gently tracing circles on your back.
“Thank you for always coming to get me” you whisper. “Even when I’m annoying.”
He hugs you tighter.
“Thank you for always calling me” he answers. “Even when you’re annoying.”
He kisses your hair and, just before you fully drift off, he hears you mumble:
“Legalised crush… forever…”
And to him, silently, that sounds like a perfect deal.
LEE KNOW
“Chill dinner with the girls” you told him. “I’ll be back early” you promised. It’s 3:27 a.m. by the time the key finally turns in the lock.
Minho is on the couch, half‑lying down, the cats sleeping somewhere nearby and the TV on mute. The second he hears you stumble a bit against the doorframe, he knows.
“…Uh‑huh” he mutters. “So much for ‘chill’.”
You appear in the living room like nothing’s wrong, trying to walk in a straight line. For you right now, that’s science fiction.
“Baby loooove!” you throw yourself at him.
He barely has time to drop the remote on the table before you land on him. He catches you by the waist like it’s nothing.
“You smell like an entire bar… and your friends’ laughter” he says, sniffing the air.
“And like you… in my heart…” you say, resting your forehead on his chest.
Minho rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.
“Weren’t you coming back ‘early’?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.
“I did… come back early” you say with all the seriousness in the world. “Time is… relative.”
“Oh, so now you’re a drunk philosopher.” He laughs. “Come on, sit before you fall.”
He settles you on the couch, but you insist on straddling his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“I was gonna bring you bread…” you mumble sadly. “The good kind… but I ate it. I’m sorry.”
Minho stares at you with a mix of mock‑offense and fondness.
“You’re telling me you cheated on me with a baguette?”
“It was… a moment of weakness” you reply very seriously. “It had seeds on top…”
He loses it and laughs out loud.
“You’re unbelievable” he taps his forehead against yours. “Okay, show me what you did bring in your bag, carb cheater.”
You rummage dramatically through your bag and pull out a crushed packet of napkins, a toothpick and a bottle label.
“Gifts” you announce.
“Wow” he deadpans. “You’re spoiling me.”
You’re so close to him that he can feel your body slowly going limp as sleep pulls at you. Minho tightens his arms around your waist.
“Hey, hey, don’t fall asleep yet.” He pats your cheek gently. “We have to take your makeup off first, okay?”
“Nooo, too much effort…” you whine, burying your face in his neck. “I wanna sleep with you.”
He swallows, rubs your back for a second, then says firmly:
“You’ll sleep with me, but clean. Come on, up you go.”
He basically lifts you in his arms, your arms limp around his neck, and carries you to the bathroom. He sits you down carefully on the closed toilet lid and moves a strand of hair from your face.
“Stay right here. Don’t move. Don’t try to dance. Don’t try to flirt with the mirror.”
“Too late…” you mumble, looking at your reflection. “I’m pretty.”
Minho glances at himself in the mirror, then at you.
“You’re right. But the mirror’s not going to take your makeup off.” He grabs micellar water and cotton pads. “I am.”
He stands in front of you and starts wiping your eyelids with a gentleness that doesn’t match all the roasting he’s been doing.
“Close your eyes” he murmurs.
You obey, though the first time you open them again just to look at him.
“You’re very handsome” you blurt. “You know, when we’re outside I think, ‘look, he’s mine,’ but I don’t say it because I’m shy.”
“You’re drunk, but thanks anyway,” he answers with a little smile he tries to hide.
He removes your mascara, foundation, carefully cleaning your cheeks. Every now and then, you grab onto his t‑shirt like a little kid so you don’t fall forward.
“Don’t leave” you mumble.
“I’m not going anywhere, idiot. I’m just cleaning you up.”
When he’s done with your face, he tosses the used cotton pads and crouches a bit to be at your eye level.
“Let me see those teeth” he says, putting your toothbrush in your hand. “You can do this. I’ll supervise.”
You start brushing, but then you begin to sing with the toothbrush in your mouth like it’s a microphone.
“La la laaa, my boyfriend is hot…” you giggle.
Minho leans against the doorframe, staring at you like, “I cannot deal with this.”
“You look like an adorable gremlin” he says. “Spit and rinse before you end up swallowing the toothpaste.”
Once that’s over, he helps you up.
“Let’s get you to bed, zombie mode is fully on.”
“I want the cats…” you protest weakly.
“The cats are sleeping, like you should be.”
In the bedroom, he lays you down on the bed, carefully helps you out of your uncomfortable clothes, puts you in something loose and soft, and pulls the blanket up over you. When he tries to move away, you latch onto his arm.
“Minho…”
“What?”
“Thank you for taking care of me.”
He exhales quietly, lies down next to you and pulls you against his chest.
“That’s what I’m here for” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “But don’t pull that ‘I’ll be back early’ stunt again, okay?”
“Okay…” you mumble, half asleep already. “I’m sorry about the bread…”
He laughs softly into your hair.
“I’ll get over it. I love you, drunkie.”
“Love you too…” you whisper, finally giving in to sleep.
CHANGBIN
Changbin is in the studio, super focused, scribbling lyrics, when suddenly his phone starts vibrating non‑stop.
Notifications. From you.
First, texts:
“I misss youuuu”
“I mis youuuu”
“i mis uou”
“I MISS YOU MORE THN COCACOLA WITOUT GAS”
“with*”
“gas*”
“i dnt now how 2 writ”
Then a blurry photo of your feet with:
“look my shoess theyre hapy”
And a voice note:
“Chanbinnn… no, you’re not Chanbin… wait… yes… yes you’re Changbin… ah, I don’t know… I love you. End of message.”
He bursts out laughing. Chan, at the other desk in the studio, looks over.
“What’s going on?” Chan asks.
“My girlfriend…” Changbin turns his phone to show him part of the disaster. “She’s in drunk keyboard mode.”
Another text from you:
“i love u mor thn cocacola with gas without gas with ice without iceee”
“come get me”
Changbin drops his pen.
“I’m out” he announces, packing up. “Before she starts sending me drunk rap tracks.”
Chan laughs.
“Record the audios” he says. “Blackmail material.”
When he gets to the bar, he spots you at a table, your head propped in your hand, half‑full glass in front of you. You’re staring at the ice like it’s fascinating.
“Hey” he says, resting a hand on your shoulder.
You lift your head slowly, blinking.
“…MY BOYFRIEND!” you shout. “The strongest man in the woooorld!”
A few people stare. Changbin holds back a laugh and pulls you into a hug.
“That’s me” he says. “Your super strong boyfriend here to rescue his super drunk girlfriend.”
“I’m not that drunk…” you mumble. Right then, you try to stand up and almost fall.
He grabs your waist and steadies you.
“Of course not” he teases. “You’re completely sober and it’s just the floor moving.”
He wraps an arm around your shoulders and thanks your friends for calling. You step out of the bar and the cold air hits your face.
“Binnie…” you say suddenly. “Did I tell you I told everyone you’re the best rapper in the world?”
He frowns slightly, amused.
“Everyone?”
“The waitress…” you start ticking off on your fingers. “The bathroom guy… some girl in the bathroom who said her boyfriend is annoying and I said, ‘well, mine is perfect’… and… I don’t know.”
Changbin goes quiet for a few seconds, wearing the biggest smile he’s had in days.
“Perfect, huh…” he mutters under his breath.
He gets you into a taxi and slides in next to you. As soon as the car starts moving, you lean on his shoulder, hugging his arm.
“So strong… so handsome… mine,” you murmur, stroking his bicep.
“My completely drunk girl” he replies, kissing your temple. “But still mine.”
You suddenly grab your phone again, like you just remembered something.
“Look…” you show him the chat. “I wrote that I miss you… but autocorrect hates me.”
He laughs out loud reading your spelling disasters.
“I’m saving this” he says. “I’m going to print it and frame it.”
“Nooo…” you whine. “You’re gonna bully me.”
“Better: motivation.” He grins. “‘Don’t drink that much again or you’ll type like this.’”
When you get home, Changbin pretty much carries you to the bed.
“Water” he orders, holding a glass in front of you.
“I don’t want it.”
“Do you want to be alive tomorrow?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Then drink.”
You obey, sulking.
Once you finally lie down, you grab his t‑shirt to keep him from leaving.
“Stay…” you murmur. “Please.”
He kicks his shoes off quickly and climbs into bed next to you, letting you rest your head on his chest.
“I love you more than Coke with gas” you mumble, already half asleep.
Changbin stares at the ceiling, biting his lip to keep from smiling too wide.
“That’s a lot of love, you know” he says quietly. “I love you even more than the gym. So we’re even.”
HYUNJIN
This time, your friends decide to do it properly: they take your phone away so you can’t spam everyone and call Hyunjin directly.
“Hyunjin, hi, it’s ___,” your friend says. “Sorry to bother you, but she’s really cute… and really drunk. And she won’t stop saying your name, so we figured you’d probably want to pick her up.”
Hyunjin, who was quietly painting at the dorm, sighs with a soft smile.
“What did she do?”
“She tried to recreate one of your photo poses and almost knocked over the table,” you can hear your own loud laughter in the background.
“I’m coming right now,” he answers. “Please keep an eye on her until I get there.”
—
When he arrives, they tell him you’re outside because you insisted on “getting some air.” He finds you sitting on the curb, knees pulled up, your friends on either side of you, and you staring at the sky like a deep philosopher.
“There he is, the hot boyfriend” your friend announces.
You snap your head up.
“Hyunjin?” you blink.
He walks over, hands in his pockets, that soft smile on his face.
“What are you doing looking at the stars all alone?” he asks.
“I’m not alone…” you say, placing a hand on your chest. “I’m with you… in here.”
Your friends let out a collective “awwww.” Hyunjin covers his face with one hand, embarrassed and delighted at the same time.
“That’s very K‑drama, even for me” he laughs. “Come on, my little star, it’s late.”
He helps you up, hands on your waist. You feel how steady he is and cling to him.
“You’re so tall…” you mumble. “You never fall.”
“That’s my job, making sure you don’t fall” he says, guiding you gently.
On the way to the company car he called, you stop for a moment, tugging on his sleeve.
“Hyunjin.”
“Hmm?”
“I was dancing in the bathroom…” you confess, deadly serious. “And I thought, ‘I wish you were here so we could do a pretty choreooo’.”
He chuckles quietly, ducking his head.
“Good thing I wasn’t, or you’d be on the floor by now.”
In the car, you sit pressed against the window, watching the city lights go by.
“Everything looks so beautiful…” you whisper. “But you’re prettier.”
Hyunjin glances at you from the side, fighting a smile. He slides an arm around your shoulders and pulls you against his chest.
“You know you won’t remember any of this tomorrow, right?” he says, gently rubbing your arm.
“Doesn’t matter…” you close your eyes. “You remember it for me.”
“Trust me, I’m not forgetting this” he murmurs, resting his chin on your head.
Back at the dorm, he helps you take off your shoes at the entrance and leads you to his room. He sits you on the bed and kneels a bit to look at you properly.
“Stay right here, I’ll get water and something so you don’t die tomorrow.”
When he comes back, you’re half leaning to the side, staring at one of his paintings propped against the wall.
“You painted that?” you ask, pointing like you’ve just discovered it.
“Yeah” he smiles.
“It’s beautiful…” you murmur. “But you’re my favourite work of art.”
Hyunjin completely short‑circuits for a second.
“Okay, stop, my heart can’t handle this” he laughs, handing you the glass. “Drink, drunk poet.”
You finally lie down, him next to you. You trail your fingers along his jawline.
“When you’re on stage… I think you belong to everyone…” you confess, alcohol loosening your tongue. “But then I remember that here… you’re only mine.”
He swallows hard, hugging you tighter.
“Only yours” he answers quietly, almost like a vow. “Sleep, my favourite drama.”
HAN
It’s 2:03 a.m. and Han is on the dorm bunk bed, headphones on, editing something on his laptop, when his phone suddenly starts going crazy.
When he unlocks it, he finds:
“Janiii”
“Janiiijjjjj”
“janinjjjjj”
“i lov u”
“ily”
“ilyyyy”
“i lov u more thn fries”
“frise”
“fries*”
“THAT”
And then, a picture of you with the flash straight in your face, eyes half‑closed, making a very crooked heart with your hands.
“You’ve got to be kidding me” he covers his mouth, laughing.
Jeongin peeks from the other bed.
“What happened?”
“My girlfriend…” Jisung shows him the pictures, cracking up. “She’s fighting autocorrect.”
Another message:
“i like u alot”
“a lottt”
“A LOOOOT”
And then an incoming call. Jisung answers, already smiling.
“Hey, babe?”
“Haaaan…” your voice comes out all dragged, music loud in the background. “I like you… so much…” you declare without even saying hello. “SO much… like when your part comes on in a song and I’m like ‘that’s my boyfriend.’”
Han’s heart actually skips.
“Where are you, my number‑one fan?” he asks fondly. “Let me come get you.”
“I’m at a place…” you start, and someone in the background says, “Give me the phone, I’ll tell him.” One of your friends takes over.
“Hey, I’m her friend, we’re at this bar. She’s fine, just very drunk and very in love with you.”
Jisung laughs, a little shy.
“I’ll be right there. Please don’t let her start rapping.”
When he gets there, you’re hard to miss: you’re in the middle of the group, waving your hands like you’re mid‑rap.
“And my boyfrieeend… is the best raperrr in the woooorld…” you’re half‑singing over a track that has nothing to do with it.
The second you see him, your face lights up.
“My favourite artist!” you scream and run into his arms, wrapping yourself around his neck.
“Ow, my back” he laughs, spinning a little with you in his arms. “Hi to you too.”
Your friends say their goodbyes between laughs, thanking Han for coming to the rescue. You step outside, and the cool air sobers you up just a bit.
“Jisung…” you grab his hand with both of yours. “Do you know you’re a genius?”
“No” he jokes. “Remind me.”
“You’re a genius… and really handsome… and funny…” you start listing. “And when you write stuff, I’m like ‘wow, how did that come out of his head? My head just has potatoes.’”
He laughs so hard he doubles over.
“You’re killing me. Potato brain, huh?”
In the taxi, you cuddle into his shoulder.
“Don’t fall asleep yet” he tells you. “You have to drink water when we get back.”
“I don’t want water” you whine, childlike.
“Do you want to see me tomorrow?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Then water.”
You huff, but agree.
Back at the dorm, he sits on the bed with you.
“I want to keep this” he says, holding up your flash‑in‑the‑face photo. “It’s my new wallpaper.”
“Noooo…” you try to grab the phone. “So embarrassing.”
“It’s my limited‑edition drunk‑girlfriend pic” he says, kissing your cheek. “Just for me.”
He tucks you under the blanket and lies down next to you.
“Han…” you whisper. “Don’t make sad songs about this.”
“Why would I make sad songs?” he asks, amused.
“Because tomorrow I’m gonna die of embarrassment… and that’s sad.”
“I’ll make a funny song then” he decides. “It’ll be called ‘My Drunk Girlfriend Freestyle.’”
“It’s gonna be… a hit” you mutter, closing your eyes.
“Just like you in my life” he thinks, but doesn’t say out loud.
FELIX
Felix is at the dorm playing a game with Seungmin when his phone rings. It’s your friend.
“Lix, I’m so sorry” she says, laughing. “She’s fine, just reaaally affectionate and she won’t stop hugging a lamppost. We think you should come.”
You can be heard in the background: “Lamppost, you’re a good friend, don’t fall.”
Felix almost drops his phone from laughing.
“I’m on my way, thanks for calling” he says.
When he arrives, he spots you from far away. You’re at the entrance of the venue, literally hugging a lamppost, cheek pressed against the cold metal.
“Don’t worry…” you’re telling the lamppost. “I’ll hold you, even if life is hard.”
“Babe…” Felix’s deep voice reaches you. “Are you gonna dump the lamppost for me?”
You turn around very slowly, like in slow‑motion. When you see him, your eyes go huge.
“Lixie!” You let go of the lamppost and run to hug him.
You squeeze him so hard he almost loses his balance.
“Wow, critical hit hug” he jokes. “My cookie is super strong tonight.”
“I love you so much,” you say without letting go. “If you were a cookie, you’d be my favourite.”
He blushes instantly.
“What if I’m a brownie?” he asks, playing along.
“That too…” you nod very seriously. “You’re all the sweet things.”
Felix laughs, that deep laugh you adore.
“Okay, let’s go home before the lamppost gets jealous.”
He slides an arm around your shoulders and says goodbye to your friends, who thank him for coming.
On the way to the car, you look at him in profile, eyes shining.
“Lix…” you whisper. “When you talk, it tickles my heart.”
“That’s the alcohol talking, love” he says, trying not to melt.
“No. That’s you” you insist, totally sure.
In the car, you stare at his hands on the wheel.
“You have pretty hands…” you murmur. “They look like a prince’s.”
“Like a prince?” he laughs. “Why?”
“Because they look soft… and strong… and they make cookies.”
Felix almost hits the wrong pedal from laughing.
“That’s the weirdest and cutest compliment I’ve ever gotten.”
At home, he helps you in, takes off your shoes and brings you a glass of water.
“Drink a little, please” he says, holding it to your lips.
You look at him dramatically.
“If I drink water, I’ll sober up… and I’ll stop being brave… and I won’t be able to tell you I love you this much.”
He goes quiet for a moment, a small smile on his lips.
“You can tell me tomorrow too” he says calmly. “And the day after. And always.”
“…I love you” you mumble, finally taking a sip.
He lays you down on the bed and stretches out beside you. You automatically curl up against his chest.
“I want to have breakfast with you tomorrow” you mumble. “Pancakes… and kisses.”
Felix files that away as tomorrow’s top‑priority mission.
“Deal” he whispers, kissing your hair. “Pancakes, kisses and a whole litre of water, okay?”
“Deal…” you answer, already sinking into sleep.
He stays awake a little longer, watching you sleep, with a soft smile no one else gets to see.
SEUNGMIN
When you said, “Just for a bit, one drink and I’ll come back,” Seungmin raised an eyebrow. He didn’t say anything, but he left his phone on maximum volume.
At 1:40 a.m., an unknown number pops up.
“Hello?”
“Seungmin, hi, I’m a friend of ___,” a voice says. “Sorry to call, but she’s fine, just drunk. And very intense about you. She won’t stop saying your name and analysing life, so we thought you might want to come get her.”
Seungmin runs a hand down his face, but he’s smiling.
“I’m on my way” he replies. “Thanks for letting me know.”
When he arrives, he sees you at a table, elbow propped up, chin resting in your hand, staring into your glass like it’s the void.
“Good evening” he says, appearing by your side.
You lift your gaze very slowly.
“Seungmin…” your face lights up. “Look! That’s my boyfriend!”
“So I’ve heard” he answers, amused. “What are you doing, fighting with your glass?”
“I’m… analysing myself…” you say solemnly.
“Yourself or the glass?” he asks, sitting down beside you.
“My life” you answer, very serious. “And I’ve decided that I love you a lot.”
Your friends cover their mouths to keep from laughing. Seungmin smiles, slightly embarrassed.
“That sounds like a very 2 a.m. deep confession” he comments. “Come on, philosopher, let’s get you home.”
You try to stand up. He offers his hand, but you shoot up too fast and the room spins. Seungmin catches your shoulders immediately.
“Slow down, we’re not rehearsing a dramatic fall” he jokes.
Outside, the fresh air hits you and your eyes get a little watery for no clear reason.
“Do you still love me even when I’m drunk?” you ask in a tiny voice.
He stops, gently turns you so you’re facing him.
“I love you more when you’re sober because you don’t trip this much” he says, serious but with a glint in his eyes. “But like this you’re funny too.”
“Funny?” you pout. “So I’m just a clown to you?”
He can’t help it; he laughs.
“You’re my favourite clown” he says, giving your forehead a quick kiss. “Now let’s go before you start crying over some dog on the street.”
You don’t even make it five minutes before you spot a dog. You freeze.
“Look at hiiim…” you whisper, voice cracking. “He’s so small… and cute… and perfect…”
Seungmin shakes his head slowly.
“Don’t cry over the dog, the dog is happy” he assures you. “Cry over your hangover tomorrow instead, if you want.”
In the taxi, you rest your head on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry…” you mumble. “You could be sleeping and instead you’re coming to get me…”
He shrugs.
“It’s not that bad. You owe me dinner, though.”
“I’ll buy you… noodles” you offer solemnly. “And… kisses… if you want.”
Seungmin blinks, laughing awkwardly.
“Deal” he says.
At home, he hands you water, leaves painkillers ready, helps you change and flop into bed. When he sees you about to drift off, he sits for a minute on the edge.
“Seungmin…” you whisper.
“What?”
“If I don’t remember this tomorrow… remind me that I told you I love you.”
He looks at you for a few seconds, more serious now.
“I’ll remind you” he says at last, quietly. “Always.”
He kisses your temple.
“I love you, even drunk” he adds. “But let’s not make this a habit, yeah?”
I.N
“Just one glass of wine with the girls” you said. But the glasses of wine decided to multiply. And you did zero math.
When you come in, making more noise than usual, Jeongin is in the living room, laptop on the coffee table, a half‑finished bowl of snacks next to it.
He shuts the screen and watches you from the doorway.
“I’m hoooome” you announce, almost singing.
He looks you over from head to toe.
“…You’re drunk” he declares immediately.
“Nooo, just… the floor is moving a little” you answer, kicking off your shoes and almost losing your balance.
Jeongin stands up quickly and grabs you by the forearms.
“Come here” he says, gently pulling you closer.
You take a few wobbly steps and, once you’re close enough, you wrap your arms around his waist and press your cheek to his chest.
“My little boyfriend…” you mumble.
He frowns, faking offense.
“Hey. I’m not that little anymore.”
You lift your head, look at him very seriously.
“My big boyfriend, then…” you correct yourself. “My very handsome boyfriend.”
His face softens instantly.
“That’s better” he grins, running a hand up and down your back.
He sits you down on the couch and settles beside you. You grab one of his snacks without asking and pop it into your mouth.
“You know…?” you say, still chewing. “I feel really lucky.”
“Oh yeah?” Jeongin leans back, curious. “Why?”
“Because out of all the guys in the world…” you draw the sentence out dramatically, staring at the ceiling. “I got you. And you’re the prettiest.”
Jeongin goes quiet, a half‑smile he can’t hide spreading over his face. He eyes you with those dark eyes that shine even brighter now.
“I don’t know if you’re really cheesy or really drunk” he finally says. “But I like it.”
He hands you a glass of water.
“Drink, come on” he says. “I don’t want you to hate me tomorrow.”
“I could never hate you…” you reply. “I might hate wine, though.”
“That I believe” he laughs.
You jump up, pointing at him.
“Hey!” you protest. “I defended your honour tonight.”
“My what?” he asks, amused.
“Some girl said you were ‘too handsome to be real,’ and I was like, ‘He’s very real, because I hug him, okay?’” you explain, gesturing wildly.
Jeongin stares for a few seconds, then bursts into laughter.
“You actually said that?”
“Yes” you nod proudly. “With these hands…” You raise your hands. “That hug you.”
He bites the inside of his cheek to keep his smile from getting too big.
“Come here, you weirdo” he says, opening his arms.
You lie down with your head on his thighs, claiming him as your pillow. He slips a cushion under your head and tucks a blanket around you.
He starts stroking your hair slowly.
“Jeongin…” you mumble, almost asleep now.
“What?”
“Don’t grow up any more… ‘cause then… you’ll be too far away.”
He laughs softly.
“I’m always gonna be right here, dummy” he replies. “Go to sleep.”
You nuzzle against his leg like a cat.
He keeps petting your hair, watching your breathing even out, and somewhere between one stroke and the next, he thinks: “I really hope she doesn’t stop with the ‘too handsome to be real’ thing.”
But he’ll tell you that another day—when you’re not drunk.
Tags: fluff, kissing, smut, nsfw, oral (f), fingering, blowjob, face sitting, threesome mfm, 18+, minors do NOT interact (let me know if i missed any)
Summary: you spend the evening with the sunshine twins
******************************************
Movie nights with Felix and Jisung have always been your favorite. It usually includes a ton of snacks, disney movies, k-drama’s, gossip and lots and lots of cuddles. This time shouldn’t be much different, but from the moment you step inside, you know it probably will be.
It starts with the way Jisung hugs you in greeting. He buries his face in your neck and teasingly nips the skin where your neck meets your shoulder while his hands slowly glide towards your ass. You can hear Felix chuckle from where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, but you pay him no mind.
‘Hey Sungie,’ you whisper, bringing your hands up to pet his hair. ‘Miss me?’
‘You have no idea,’ Jisung replies, squeezing the flesh of your butt.
You laugh and push against his chest, forcing him to let go of you. ‘Where are your manners Mr. Han? Offer a girl a drink first, would you.’
Jisung raises his eyebrows at you and shares a look with Felix over your shoulder before sighing and backing off with his hands in the air.
‘Alright, alright, I’m sorry,’ he pouts. ‘What would you like to drink?’
You move past him towards Felix and hug him close. The Australian keeps his hands to himself, but you do notice that he holds you a little longer than usual.
‘What are you having?’ you ask them. ‘Are we doing a hot chocolate kind of movie night or more of a soju kind of night?’
‘Well, we don’t have any plans or obligations tomorrow,’ Jisung shrugs. ‘So I guess we could go with soju?’
Felix nods in agreement and moves past you to grab three glasses from the cabinet. ‘We can also make hot chocolate later if we want something sweet.’
‘Aw but you already have me,’ you joke. ‘I’m way sweeter.’
Jisung lets out a weird noise and when you wink at him you can almost see his eyes darken. His fingers curl up in the fabric of his sweatpants before he loosens them and takes a deep breath as he looks away from you.
‘You okay, Ji?’ you ask teasingly.
‘Perfectly fine,’ he smiles. ‘I’m going to get the soju from Minho’s room.’
‘Why is it in Minho’s room?’
Your question gets ignored as he hurries away and when you look at Felix for answers, he just shrugs.
‘Okay then,’ you shrug as well. ‘Shall we move this party to the living room?’
You and Felix get comfortable on the couch and while you wait for Jisung to join you with the bottle of Soju, you chat a bit about what each of you have been up to this week. You tell him about your very uneventful job and he in turn fills you in on how training and studio time has been for him and the boys.
‘Found it!’ Jisung’s muffled cheer sounds from Minho’s bedroom.
It doesn’t take long before he collapses onto the couch on your other side. His cheeks are slightly red as he hands you the bottle.
‘Took you long enough,’ you tease as you unscrew the lid and pour each of you a glass.
‘I couldn’t find it at first, but it was under his bed,’ Jisung says, like it’s the most normal place for a bottle of alcohol to be.
You want to ask questions, but seeing as he was vague about it before and now as well, you let it slide. What the boys do in their free time is none of your business anyways. You hold your glass in front of you and clink it against theirs.
‘Cheers to a fun night.’
-
You’re halfway through the first movie when you start to feel a slight buzz from the alcohol. Usually you’re pretty good at handling your liquor, but tonight it seems like it hits you harder somehow. It might have something to do with the pathetic dinner you had earlier, but it could also be because the boys keep kicking back shot after shot.
Your hoodie is clinging to your back and it doesn’t help that Felix and Jisung are glued to your sides. Their thighs, hips and arms are touching you at all times and they literally radiate heat.
The alcohol also doesn’t help.
‘You okay?’ Felix asks when you squirm a bit, trying to decide whether or not you want to take your hoodie off.
You hum. ‘Just a bit hot, that’s all.’
‘That’s because we’re next to you,’ Jisung grins, bumping his shoulder against yours.
‘I know,’ you laugh, rolling your eyes.
You sit in silence again for the next few minutes as something on the screen catches your attention, but when you squirm again, Felix turns to you once more.
‘I can open up a window?’ he offers. ‘Or you can take off your hoodie.’
Jisung perks up next to you at Felix his second suggestion, but he doesn’t say anything and you nearly burst out in a fit of giggles at his reaction. You pull your hoodie over your head with practiced ease and let out a relieved breath when the cool air hits your sweaty skin.
‘Much better,’ you nod, throwing your hoodie on the floor.
‘Hmh,’ Jisung hums, his eyes trained on your chest.
The top you have on is tight and has a low lacy neckline that shows off your cleavage perfectly.
‘If only I could take my bra off as well, you guys have no idea what a torture it is to wear one,’ you mutter, half serious and half teasing when you settle back between them.
Felix clears his throat and from the corner of your eyes you see that Jisung opens and closes his mouth a few times, probably overthinking the words he wants to say.
‘You can, you know,’ Felix says. ‘If you’re uncomfortable, just take it off.’
‘Yeah, what he said,’ Jisung nods. ‘Besides, it’s not like I haven’t seen them before you know.’
‘Seen what?’ you tease him as you reach behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra. ‘If you can’t say it, you shouldn’t be seeing or doing anything.’
Jisung grumbles under his breath, his eyes still on your chest. ‘I was just figuring out what to call them, there are so many words for it you know? Boobs, breasts, tits, melons.’
‘Melons?’ You laugh, pushing the straps from your shoulders and down your arms. ‘I don’t think mine could be called melons, but alright.’
‘I had my hands full of them,’ Jisung shrugs. ‘They were squishy and melons come in all shapes and sizes right?’
‘Sure, Sungie,’ you giggle. ´But I don’t think melons should be squishy.’
Felix pulls a face. ‘Soggy melon, eww.’
The three of you laugh again, but both of the guys fall silent when you pull your bra from your shirt and throw it down on top of your hoodie.
‘Pretty,’ Felix mutters, eying the light blue lacy bra. ‘I bet you look amazing in it.’
You roll your eyes and try to focus on the movie again, but it’s hard. Without the protection of your hoodie, you’re even more aware of their touch and now they also can’t stop staring at your chest.
‘You’re such guys,’ you sigh when you catch them looking again. ‘You’re the one who told me to take it off.’
‘Sorry,’ Felix blushes.
‘No you’re not,’ you pat his thigh. ‘I knew this movie night was going to be different now that things have changed between all of us.’
‘They haven’t changed that much, not really. You’re still our best friend,’ Jisung says.
‘I know, silly,’ you soothe him. ‘But it’s still different and it will probably never be the same again.’
‘Is that a bad thing?’ Felix asks with a frown. ‘Do you regret it?’
You sigh and lean your head against his shoulder. ‘No, not really, but I do still wonder if it will affect our friendship in the end. I don’t want things to get awkward and I’m not sure for how long we can do this friends with benefits thing, you know?’
‘Maybe we should talk about that when we’ve taught you all there is and when you feel comfortable with the stuff you learned. I mean, that’s the goal here, right?’ Jisung says, cuddling up against you and kissing your bare shoulder.
‘So what you’re saying is, don’t think about it right now and just go with the flow?’
‘As long as it feels good for you. All we want is for you to feel comfortable with us,’ Felix presses his lips against your temple. ‘That’s what matters most.’
‘Are you guys not afraid it will mess up our friendship?’
‘So far I feel like it only brought us closer,’ Jisung says at the same time as Felix says; ‘No, I’m not.’
You smile and grab both of their hands, intertwining your fingers. ‘Okay.’
Jisung lifts his head from your shoulder. ‘Okay?’
‘Yeah,’ you nod. ‘I feel good, I feel comfortable and I’m thankful for you guys. As long as we keep talking, we should be fine, right?’
Deep down you know it’s not that simple, but at the moment you don’t really care. If you think too much, you’ll freak out and that will definitely freak out the boys as well and you don’t want that. You want to enjoy their company, their touch, and you’re curious about what lessons they have in store for you still.
‘Yes, we should be,’ Felix agrees, smiling at you.
You turn your attention back to the TV and the three of you are quiet for a bit, but you can tell that none of you is really watching the movie anymore. It takes about two more minutes before Jisung sighs and sits up.
‘Can we please get to the fun part now? I’ve been good haven’t I?’
You and Felix both burst out in laughter and you reach for the remote to turn off the TV before you turn to Jisung, who’s looking at you with big puppy eyes and a little pout.
‘Alright, Sungie, what did you have in mind?’
‘Well,’ Jisung grins. ‘We heard all about what you and Innie have been up to and I’ve been dying to taste you.’
‘I’m not sure if you really understand how giving a blowjob works if you’re talking about tasing me,’ you tease.
Jisung rolls his eyes and reaches out his hand to cup the back of your neck. ‘There’s two of us, so I’m pretty sure I can feast on you while Felix here gets to find out if our Innie was overreacting about your skillful tongue or not.’
You take in a deep shuddering breath as you suddenly feel like your body is on fire. It’s not the first time you’ve been with two of the guys at the same time, but it somehow feels different. Minho and Hyunjin had taken charge and showed you a new kind of pleasure and now Jisung and Felix wanted to try and combine both giving and taking.
‘Okay,’ you nod. ‘We can do that.’ Felix his eyes widen comically and you giggle, reaching out for him. ‘Come here, Lixie.'
Felix scoots closer to you as Jisung flexes his finger on the back of your neck. ‘You’re insane for indulging us, you know that right? I love it.’
You laugh and while your hand reaches for Felix, you lean in to gently kiss Jisung. His lips are just as soft as you remember and when he sighs against your mouth you let yourself relax. You can feel Felix behind you, pressing his chest against your back as his hands wander from your hips to your side.
‘Can I take off your top?’ Felix whispers, pressing a few soft kisses on your shoulder.
‘Mhm,’ you hum against Jisung’s lips.
‘I take that as a yes.’
Jisung lets out a small whine when you pull back from his kiss so Felix can pull your top over your head, but his sadness is already forgotten when his eyes fall to your breasts.
‘Oh, fuck.’ he mutters. ‘Just as beautiful as I remember.’
‘So beautiful,’ Felix agrees as he slowly slides his fingers over your skin, brushing the underside of your breasts.
You shiver and lean back against him, closing your eyes. It feels nice, a little ticklish, but still good.
‘Take off yours too,’ you tell them, opening your eyes again.
Jisung reacts right away, pulling his shirt over his head in one smooth move and throwing on the growing pile of clothing on the floor. You immediately reach for him, tracing his muscular pecs and teasingly flicking one of his nipples. Jisung shivers, but doesn’t do anything to stop you, he just lets you explore.
‘You’ve been hitting the gym again,’ you grin, looking him up and down.
‘Mhm, Binnie has helped me make a work out schedule.’
‘Cool,’ you mutter, your eyes tracing every inch of naked skin.
Jisung laughs and shuffles a little closer to you, gently grabbing onto your side. ‘I’m going to kiss you again and then, when you’re all nice and wet for me, I’m going to feast.’
Your mouth drops open at his words, but you don’t get any time to respond before he kisses you. Deep, but measured as his hands stroke your body. You happily kiss him back, bringing up your arms to wrap them around his neck.
Felix starts kissing your neck and shoulders again, nipping and biting and leaving marks like the last time the two of you had some fun together. It feels wonderful and it doesn’t take long before you’re whimpering and panting against Jisung’s mouth, your hips twitching as you ache for something more. Your entire body feels like it's on fire.
‘What’s wrong, baby?’ Jisung whispers against your mouth before taking your bottom lip between his teeth.
You pull on his silky hair and he chuckles, pulling back from you.
‘Please,’ you say, your brain is too fuzzy with lust and the lack of oxygen from kissing for so long to make out any more words. ‘More.’
Felix chuckles against your neck and also pulls back. ‘You heard the lady, Ji, I think it’s time we move this party to the bedroom.’
Your eyes widen when you’re suddenly lifted off the couch. ‘Yah!’ you yell out, surprised. ‘Sungie?’
‘Perks of going to the gym,’ Jisung laughs as he easily carries you towards the bedroom while you hang onto him like a koala.
He drops you onto his bed and before you know what’s happening it’s Felix that crawls on top of you. His blonde hair frames his face and his beautiful brown eyes are darker than usual as he takes you in, his arms holding himself up on either side of your head.
‘So beautiful,’ he whispers. ‘Sungie is going to undress you now, okay?’
You can only nod before he leans in to kiss you. His lips are warm and soft and he kisses you like you’re made out of glass at first, careful, yet precise, but when you suck on his tongue he breaks and kisses you harder, deeper.
You hear the rustling of clothing being removed and there are hands on your hips, on your thighs and then there’s only air. Instinctively you open your legs to wrap them around Felix his waist, pulling him closer. His sweats feel soft against your naked skin.
‘Fuck,’ he groans when you buck your hips against his.
The friction feels nice and you do it again, chasing the rub the fabric causes against your clit. Your hands reach for the waistband of Felix his sweats, trying to pull it down, but the action seems to wake Felix up and he pulls back.
You whimper and try to pull him back by his neck. ‘Lixie, come back.’
‘Patience, baby,’ he laughs, pecking you on the lips one more time before crawling off of you.
Jisung pulls you up by your arms so you’re sitting down and you immediately get an eye full of his glorious naked boy. His cock is standing tall against his stomach, the tip already red and leaking.
‘How do you feel about sitting on my face?’
You choke on your own saliva, coughing loudly. ‘What?’
‘I was thinking, if you sit on my face you can blow Lixie at the same time as I eat you out,’ Jisung grins. ‘But we could do it separately as well if you prefer or we could just do something else, whatever you want really.’
You gape at him, blinking the tears out of your eyes. ‘You want me to sit on your face?’
‘Mhm,’ Jisung nods enthusiastically. ‘Very much so.’
You tilt your head and try to imagine how that will work. ‘Won’t that be uncomfortable for you?’
‘Not at all and I promise that if it does, I will tap your thighs three times, alright?’
You meet Felix’s eyes over Jisung’s shoulder, but the blonde just grins at you and nods his head before he steps out of his sweatpants as well, leaving him in just his boxers.
‘Alright,’ you agree, a little hesitantly.
What if you suffocate him? What is you’re too heavy and–
‘Stop thinking, baby, just go with it alright? Trust me,’ Jisung interrupts your thoughts before you can spiral.
You nod. ‘Okay, so how will this work?’
Jisung lays down on the bed and pulls you on top of him. His body feels wonderful underneath yours and you kind of want to explore and kiss every inch of his skin.
‘Now scootch upwards and hover over my face,’ Jisung laughs, placing his hands on your hips to guide you.
Felix moves to the other side of the bed and kneels down behind Jisung’s head, his eyes watching your every move as you slowly crawl over Jisung’s body and towards his face. Once you're nearly at his chin, you hesitate again.
‘Are you sure?’ you ask, looking down at Jisung.
Jisung licks his lips and looks up at you. ‘I’m very sure baby, please move, it’s okay.’
His fingers dig into your hips and when you carefully move your knees over his shoulder to settle them on either side of his face he lets out a deep shuddering breath. A shiver runs down your spine when the puff of air hits your very exposed pussy.
Jisung wraps his hands around your thighs and pulls you a little closer to his mouth, his hot breath now even closer and you shiver again as you wait in anticipation for his touch. His nose caresses the inside of your thigh first and then he lightly bumps it against your clit before licking a thick stripe from bottom to top.
You gasp at the sudden feeling of pleasure and it's only because of Felix in front of you, that you don’t fall forward.
‘Easy,’ he whispers, holding onto your arms. His cheeks are red, as are his ears, but his eyes are bright as he takes in the look on your face. His lips curl up in a smirk. ‘Do that again, Sungie.’
Jisung does as he says and your eyes roll back into your head at the delicious feeling. Your hips twitch forward, trying to chase the friction, but you don’t have to try hard before Jisung licks you again, and again, eating you out like he’s starving. The wet slopping sound of his tongue licking and sucking fills the room and it is so filthy, so hot, that you wish you could record it.
‘Fuck,’ you moan, gripping onto Felix his arms.
‘Good?’ Felix grins at you.
You kiss him instead of answering and he happily lets you for a moment before pulling back. You try to chase his mouth, but Jisung’s hands on your thighs and his tongue on your clit keep you in place. It’s then that you remember that you were supposed to show Felix what you learned with Innie the other day.
‘Fuck, I’m sorry Lixie,’ you pant, reaching for him. ‘I kind of forgot, come here.’
‘You don’t have to,’ Felix says and while you know he means it, his cock tells you otherwise. It twitches against his stomach and a drop of pre-come is already dripping down his length.
‘I know, but I want to,’ you smile, making grabby hands at him. ‘Come here.’
‘I should probably move back,’ Felix chuckles. ‘Unless you’re very flexible.’
You look down at his cock and picture the position in your head. Yeah, he was right, this wasn’t going to work with him so close. Jisung had luckily slowed down for a moment and pressed feather light kisses against your outer lips while you figured out the right position to be in with Felix.
When you finally took him in your mouth, Felix let out a shuddering breath. He was warm and heavy against your tongue and he tasted a little salty, but also clean. You licked around his head, collecting the pre-cum before softly sucking him like you were enjoying a lollipop.
‘Shit,’ Felix curses.
Jisung takes that as a sign he can continue his meal as well and dives back in with his tongue, pressing it flat against your clit. Your body jolts, causing you to take Felix further into your mouth.
‘Ah, you feel so good,’ Felix moans as one of his hands waves through your hair to keep you in place. ‘Fuck. So warm.’
The sounds he makes are like music to your ears and you keep trying to get him to be louder. He pulls your hair sometimes, but you don’t mind, it actually makes more warmth flood through your body and you like the way it makes you feel.
When Jisung suddenly slips one of his fingers inside of you, your jaw drops and your eyes roll back as the pleasure increases. The weight of Felix in your mouth somehow heightens it even more and you press your tongue against the underside of his cock while sucking him in further. The both of you moan together, causing Jisung to also let out a muffled sound against your sopping pussy.
‘Fuck you two sound hot,’ he whines when he pulls away from you for a moment. ‘Hey Lix, you want a taste as well?’
Felix let out another moan when you circle his head again with your tongue. ‘Please.’
It could be a plea to either you or Jisung, but it was probably to both and when Jisung takes a hold of your hand and drags one of your fingers through your soaked folds, you know that he thinks so as well.
‘Open up, Lix-ah,’ Jisung says, guiding your hand up and towards Felix.
You moan around Felix when he wraps his mouth around your digit, sucking off your juices with his tongue like he didn’t want to waste any of it and when you flick your eyes up to see, you nearly come at the sight of him. He looks wrecked and absolutely breathtakingly beautiful.
‘Delicious, right?’
Neither Felix nor you respond and Jisung just chuckles before focussing on your clit again, circling his tongue and putting just the right amount of pressure on the right places. It’s maddening, but so good that it doesn’t take much longer before your thighs start shaking next to his head. His finger speeds up as well and when he adds a second, curling them, you nearly collapse on top of his face.
‘I’m close,’ Felix pants, his fingers once again tightening in your hair and you notice that he’s trembling too. ‘If you don’t want to swallow–’
You take him even deeper in your mouth, gagging a little when he hits the back of your throat, but you don’t stop. You speed up your movements as best as you can while you feel your own orgasm closing in on you as well, determined to make him come before you do. His panting becomes frantic and when you moan around him he snaps and his hips stutter as he comes. You barely have time to swallow before Jisung sucks your clit into his mouth and presses his fingers just right, causing you to fall over the edge too with a loud cry.
Jisung gives you one last lick before he gently removes his fingers and presses a kiss on the inside of your thigh. He helps you slide down his chest and lay next to him, your breathing still frantic, while Felix crawls over the mattress to lay down on your other side.
‘That was amazing, you’re amazing,’ Felix whispers, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple.
You hum in agreement, pulling his arm around you as you snuggle against Jisung’s chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat.
He too kisses your temple. ‘That was fun, wanna go again?’
******************************************
a/n: Ahhh I'm so sorry for the long wait darlings! I'm not 100% sure I like the smut I wrote lmao, but that might just be cause I struggled with it so much haha and I just really wanted to get this chapter out before my holiday. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this chapter <3 big hug!
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i made your favorite dish. i made you something you’ve never tried before. i love you. i spent twenty minutes chopping. my grandmother made this for me when i was little. i made this dairy free for you. i love you. i want to eat together. the onions made me cry. i love you. i learned this recipe for you. i love you. i made this special for your birthday. i love you. i know you don’t like peppers. i love you. i love you. i love you.
summary: a few sleepless nights and you still can’t sleep. you slip out of bed to make tea, hoping the quiet will calm you down, until seungmin wakes up and comes looking for you
a/n: this one is just soft, sleepy comfort. i hope this feels like a warm hug for you, my loves
the clock says 2:48 a.m. again. the room is dark except for the faint line of streetlight sneaking through the curtains. you lie on your side, your eyes open, staring at the outline of the dresser. you’ve been counting the seconds between every blink, every distant sound, but it’s useless. your body is heavy with exhaustion, but your mind refuses to shut down.
you turn onto your back, trying to find a cool spot on the pillow. seungmin’s slow breathing next to you fills the silence. it’s steady, calm. it should be comforting, and it is, in a way, but it also makes the ache of your own sleeplessness feel sharper. you don’t want to move too much, in case you wake him up.
after a few more minutes of lying still, you give up, the thought of staring into the dark any longer feels unbearable. you slide out of bed carefully, trying to lift the sheets just enough not to disturb him. the floor is cold when your feet touch it.
you glance back once - seungmin’s face is half-buried in his pillow, his hair messy and his expression peaceful. something inside you softens at the sight. you whisper a quiet apology that he’ll never hear and slip out of the room.
the apartment is silent. the hallway feels longer than usual, your steps small and slow. in the kitchen, you don’t bother with the main light, just the one above the stove - a dim glow that barely fills the space. that’s enough for you.
you reach for the cupboard, your fingers brushing the mugs before choosing one. your movements are automatic: kettle, water, tea bag. you know the steps all too well by now. you lean against the counter while the kettle hums, the quiet vibration grounding you. there’s a small ache behind your eyes, an ache that comes from too many nights like this.
you tell yourself it’s just another bad stretch. it always passes eventually. still, there’s a sting of frustration in your chest - how tired you are, how unfair it feels to be this tired and still awake.
the kettle clicks and the sound breaks the stillness. you pour the water carefully, the steam curling into the air. the faint scent of chamomile drifts up, soft and floral. you wrap your hands around the mug and just stand there for a while, letting the warmth sink into your palms.
it’s quiet enough to hear the hum of the fridge and the occasional car outside. you think about staying there until the tea cools, maybe reading something on your phone, maybe not. you just want to stop feeling trapped inside your head.
then you hear it, a soft sound from down the hall, the click of a door. you freeze, turning your head towards it. a moment later, seungmin appears in the kitchen, his hair tousled, his shoulders hunched a little in his t-shirt. his eyes are half-open, blinking slowly as they adjust to the brightness.
“why are you up?”, his voice is rough with sleep.
you blink, surprised, “did i wake you?”
he shakes his head, rubbing at his eye, “no, i just noticed you weren’t there”
you look down at your mug, embarrassed for a reason you can’t quite explain, “i couldn’t sleep again”, you admit, “i didn’t want to bother you”
seungmin steps closer, his feet dragging slightly against the floor. he stops beside you, close enough that the warmth of his arm brushes yours.
“love, you never bother me”, he says quietly.
you smile faintly, your eyes still on the tea, “you say that now, but i know how cranky you get when you lose sleep”
he lets out a soft huff that’s halfway between a sigh and a laugh, “maybe, but i’d rather be awake with you than wake up and find you gone”
something gentle unravels in your chest at that. you finally look up at him. he looks half-asleep still, his hair sticking up, his eyes soft but focused on you.
“you should go back to bed”, you say, “i’ll be there soon. i just needed something warm to help me relax”
he tilts his head, studying you, “how many nights has it been?”
you hesitate, “three. maybe four”
he frowns a little, “that’s not good”
“i know”
for a moment, neither of you speak. the steam from your mug curls upward, disappearing into the air between you. then he reaches for your hand, his palm is warm, his fingers curling gently around yours.
“come on”, he says softly, “let’s go back. we’ll figure something out”
you let him lead you back towards the bedroom, his fingers still loosely hooked around yours. the tea is warm in your other hand, the scent following you through the quiet apartment. everything feels slower, softer, as if the night itself has decided to move carefully around you.
the door is still slightly open. seungmin pushes it wider with his shoulder and gestures for you to go in first. your bedroom is darker now, the air cool against your skin after standing in the kitchen. the sheets are a little messy on your side, a reminder of all the turning and shifting you did before giving up.
you set your mug on the nightstand and sit down at the edge of the bed. seungmin stands there for a moment, just watching you. then he sits beside you, your shoulders touching.
“it’s been getting worse lately, huh?”, he says quietly.
you nod, eyes on your hands, “yeah. i thought it was just stress. but now it’s like… even when i feel tired, i can’t turn my brain off. everything keeps spinning around in there”
he hums softly at your words, “you only tell me these things when i find you in the kitchen at three a.m.”, he says.
there’s no annoyance in his tone, just that calm, grounded seungmin way of speaking that always makes you feel a little steadier.
“i don’t want to dump it all on you”, you murmur.
he gives you a look that’s equal parts fond and exasperated, “y/n, you know that’s what i’m here for, right?”
“i know”, you say, “but when you’re sleeping, you look so peaceful. it feels wrong to wake you up just because my head won’t shut up”
he leans his shoulder gently into yours, “it’s not wrong. if you can’t sleep, then i’m not really resting either. my body’s there, but i still feel it when you’re not”
his words are quiet, simple, but they hit somewhere deep. you swallow, glancing at him.
“you always know how to say things that make me feel guilty and loved at the same time”
that earns a small laugh from him, “good, balance is important”
you laugh too, softly. the sound feels nice, even in the dim light. he shifts, pulling the sheets back and patting your side of the bed.
“come here”, he says.
you hesitate a bit, “i should finish my tea first. maybe it’ll help a bit”
“then bring it”, he replies, “you can drink it while i make sure you stop thinking too much”
you smile, shaking your head, but you don’t argue. you grab the mug and crawl under the sheets, settling against the pillows. seungmin slides in beside you, turning onto his side so he’s facing you. the warmth of his body fills the space almost immediately, the faint scent of his shampoo reaching you when he moves closer.
you take a small sip of the tea. it’s not too hot anymore, just pleasantly warm. seungmin watches you quietly, his eyes half-lidded but attentive.
“what usually keeps you awake?”, he asks you after a moment, “like, what are the thoughts doing in there?”
you sigh.
“everything. little things. i think about stuff i said during the day, or what i need to do tomorrow. sometimes it’s just random things. other times it’s nothing at all, just noise that won’t stop”
he nods slowly, “the nothing kind is the worst”
“yeah”, you trace a finger along the rim of the mug, “it feels like my head’s buzzing even when everything is silent”
he hums again, a sound that’s more comfort than a response, “you told me once that you used to listen to music when this happened, right?”
“mmhm, but then i started associating those songs with not sleeping, and that didn’t help either”
he chuckles quietly, “your brain makes everything complicated”
“tell me about it”
you rest your mug back on the nightstand and pull the sheets up to your chin. seungmin reaches out and smooths a stray strand of hair away from your face. his touch is light, barely there, but it grounds you instantly.
“what if”, he says slowly, “we just talk until you get sleepy?”
“about what?”
“anything. boring things, maybe. i could list every song we rehearsed today. or you can tell me what you’d do if you could take a week off with no responsibilities”
“that might make me start thinking again”, you say, smiling a little.
“then i’ll do the talking”, he says, shifting closer until your foreheads almost touch. his voice drops lower, softer, “you just have to listen to me, deal?”
you nod, “deal”
he thinks for a second, his eyes flicking upward as if he’s organising the words in his head.
“okay”, he begins quietly, “today, after lunch, i saw this tiny cat outside the studio. black and white, sitting on the edge of the wall like it owned the place. it didn’t even move when i walked past, just stared at me like i was the intruder”
you chuckle faintly, your eyes closed now, “sounds like you, honestly”
“rude”, he mutters, but there’s amusement in his voice, “i almost took a picture to show minho, but i didn’t want to scare it away. i think it lives nearby, the security guard said he’s seen it a few times. maybe i’ll bring snacks for it tomorrow”
you smile, “that’s very on brand for you”
“what’s my brand?”
“unbothered on the outside, but secretly soft-hearted”
“mmm”, he pretends to consider it, “i’ll take that”
the silence that follows is comfortable. the steady rhythm of his breathing fills the space again, blending with the quiet hum of the night outside.
after a while, he asks, “feeling any sleepier?”
you open your eyes a little, “a bit. it’s… better, at least”
“good”, he says. his thumb brushes lightly over the back of your hand under the sheets, “you can keep your eyes closed if you want. i’ll stay awake for a while, just in case”
“you don’t have to”, you murmur.
“i want to”
and he means it. you can hear it in the way he says it, no hesitation, just calm certainty. you let your eyes close again, his warmth and voice wrapping around you like a shield. for the first time in days, your mind feels quieter.
you breathe in slowly, letting the air fill your chest, then release it just as slowly. it feels different now - the air in the room, the heaviness of your body. it’s softer somehow, easier. seungmin’s presence next to you feels steady, like a rhythm your body’s been searching for.
he shifts closer, careful not to move you too much, and your knees brush under the sheets. you feel his hand find yours, your fingers fitting together naturally. you wonder how many times you’ve done this, how many quiet nights like this exist between you that you’ve never really noticed.
“remember that weekend we went to your parents’ house?”, he asks suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper, “the one where it rained the whole time?”
you hum in response, your eyes still closed, “of course. the power went out for hours”
“yeah”, he says, “we sat in the living room with all those candles your mom found. you were making shadows on the wall with your hands”
you smile at the memory, “you said my shadows looked like weird animals”
“because they did”, he says, the corner of his mouth lifting, “but you were laughing so much, that’s what i remember the most. the rain was so loud, but you were louder”
“i miss that kind of quiet”, you murmur, “that quiet was warm, not heavy like tonight”
he squeezes your hand gently, “we’ll get you back there. maybe not tonight, but soon”
the sincerity in his tone sinks deep. he’s not promising something unrealistic, he’s just offering steadiness, which makes you believe him anyway. you take another slow breath, this one deeper than before. your eyelids feel heavier now, the exhaustion from all those sleepless nights catching up to you at last.
“how do you do it?”, you whisper.
“do what?”
“stay so calm all the time”
he lets out a quiet laugh, “i’m not always calm. i just fake it better than most people”
you open your eyes enough to look at him. the dim light from the hallway still filters in through the half-open door, tracing the outline of his face - the curve of his cheek, the gentle furrow of his brow. he looks tired too, but in a soft, endearing way that makes your chest ache.
“even when i’m falling apart, you always make it feel like it’s not the end of the world”, you say.
“that’s because it’s not”, he replies simply.
you huff a quiet laugh, “you make things sound easy”
“things aren’t easy”, he says, shaking his head slightly, “but i think… sometimes we make them harder because we try to handle them alone. i don’t want you to do that, not when you have me”
his words hang there between you, honest and gentle. you don’t answer right away - partly because you’re tired, partly because you’re afraid your voice might waver if you do. so instead, you tighten your grip on his hand.
and that says enough.
he seems to understand. he doesn’t push, just keeps tracing small circles on your knuckles with his thumb. a few minutes pass like that. the sound of the city outside fades further, swallowed by the weight of the hour. you shift slightly, resting your head closer to his chest, and he instinctively moves to make space, his arm sliding around you until your forehead is pressed against the soft fabric of his t-shirt.
his heartbeat is slow, steady. it fills the silence, a quiet reassurance that pulls you closer to rest.
“better?”, he murmurs against your hair.
you nod, your voice barely audible, “yeah, this helps”
“good”
he doesn’t say anything else for a while. his hand moves slowly along your back, not in a way that asks for anything, it’s just steady and comforting. each small movement draws you further away from wakefulness.
you mumble something without meaning to and it comes out slurred, more breath than words.
“hm?”, he asks softly.
“thank you, for doing this”, you repeat, this time clearer, though still quiet.
he hums, the sound vibrating gently in your ear, “you don’t have to thank me for staying with you”
“i know, but i want to”, you whisper.
he smiles, you can hear it in his voice when he answers, “then you’re welcome”
the rhythm of your breathing starts to match his. slow, even. you feel yourself sinking, your body finally giving in to the exhaustion you’ve been fighting for days.
“you can sleep now”, he murmurs, “i’ll stay right here”
you want to answer, thank him again, but the weight in your chest feels too soft and too heavy at the same time, and the words dissolve before they can form. instead, you shift a little closer, your hand still tucked into his, and breathe him in - the faint trace of laundry soap, the warmth of skin, the scent that means home.
your home.
he stays awake a bit longer, watching the way your face softens as you finally start to drift. the small furrow between your brows fades, your shoulders relax, your breathing deepens, the grip of your hand softens in his. he keeps his other hand on your back until he’s sure, until your breaths fall into that unmistakable rhythm of real sleep.
only then does he let himself close his eyes.
the last thing you feel before slipping fully under is his thumb brushing once more across your knuckles, a silent goodnight.
“You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”
~ Jane Goodall
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