Surprise Visits and Silent Tears: finding their S/O crying (hurt/comfort, fluff)
Animal Fears: their S/O's SKZOO phobia (fluff, humor)
Rejected Embraces and Heavy Hearts: their S/O refusing a hug (angst) -> pt.2: Reconciling Comfort (hurt/comfort, fluff)
Unfiltered Beauty: their S/O not wearing makeup often (fluff, humor)
Unlocked Trust: the sharing of a phone PIN (humor)
Passionate Attacks: their S/O suddenly kissing them (suggestive, fluff)
1st-Night-Nerves and Quite Moments: 1st sleepovers (fluff)
Scars of the Past: Finding out their S/O was cheated on in the past (hurt/comfort, fluff)
Anxious Introductions: their S/O being nervous to meet the members (fluff)
Friendly Fire: Accidently causing their S/O a minor injury (fluff, hurt/comfort, angst-isch)
Sleeves Pulled Back: their S/O's s/h scars (hurt/comfort, fluff)
Echos of Home: their S/O not being close with their parents (hurt/comfort, angst-isch fluff)
Reunited Moments: Seeing their S/O after a long time (comfort, fluff)
Sibling Bonds: Skz x Member's sister Scenarios (humor, fluff)
Cold Hands, Warm Hearts: their S/O always having cold hands (fluff)
Love Bites: their S/O scolding them for having left a hickey (humor)
Warmth between us: their S/O having warm hands (fluff, humor, hurt/comfort)
Fashion Betrayal: their S/O asked their gay BFF for spicy fashion advice (humor)
Silly Love: their S/O's playful affection (fluff)
Stolen Breaths: kissing their S/O passionately (fluff)
Heartfelt Slip-Ups: accidental 1st 'I love you's (fluff, humor)
Lost in Translation: their S/O's native language (fluff)
Stitched with Love: their S/O crocheting a SKZOO gift (fluff, humor, angst-ish)
Imagines:
– Bang Chan –
One-time special edition: You not being cuddly changed one morning (fluff)
Ruined for anyone else: "If we ever broke up, I think you ruined me for anyone else" (fluff)
Studio Interruptions: Changbin didn't expect to walk in on an passionate encounter (fluff, humor)
Dreaming of Peaches: He had a dream of little curls and your eyes (fluff)
Laptop Delivery: Practice got a little more eventful thanks to an forgotten laptop (humor, fluff)
A Lap to Nap: He finds peace in your lap, but duty calls him back to the studio (fluff, humor)
Boyfriend Taxi: He thought he was just dropping you off but now he's meeting your friends (fluff, humor)
Beneath the midnight stars: "I didn't want to date but now you're the one thing holding everything together" (fluff)
Chasing Yesterday: Years after splitting paths, he didn't expect a text to bring an old friend – and old feelings – back into his life pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5 (fluff)
Hotter than expected: How you found out your boyfriend can't handle spicy food (humor, fluff)
Someday: Under the Australian sunset, he stands in front of his first and current love, one he wants forever (fluff)
She chose Violence: Without needing to reveal yourself, you still fed both him and the audience (humor, fluff)
Delirium: For once, you get to take care of the one who takes care of everyone (fluff, comfort)
– Lee Know –
Aishitemasu: His motivation to study Japanese might not just be due to the fans (humor, fluff)
Early Bird: While you're still tangled in the sheets, he fills the kitchen with quite affection (fluff)
Feline Approval: How Soonie and he agreed you were the one (fluff)
A Promise: With his enlistment approaching, he contemplates building a deeper commitment with you (fluff)
Quite Rhythms: As the neighbour's music seeps through the walls, he pulls you close (fluff)
Room 143: Behind closed hotel doors, the word's quiter and time slows (fluff)
Just tying the knot: He discovered that your growing relationship brings new ways to kill you -> pt.2 Actually tying the knot (fluff, humor)
– Hyunjin –
Camera-Shy: It drove him crazy that you wouldn't let him capture you on camera (fluff)
– Han –
Borrowed Warmth: Han didn’t realize the hoodie he grabbed wasn’t his (fluff, humor)
Lyric stolen, heart taken: During your date night, you stumble upon lyrics that feel a little too familiar (fluff)
Soft Nuzzles: Lately, you couldn’t shake the urge to nuzzle into Han’s neck (fuff)
Mornings with you (and low ceilings): Your boyfriend and your studio apartment ceiling don't quite get along (fluff)
Just One More: Goodbyes always take a little longer thanks to your lovely boyfriend (fluff)
In their World: It was silly, the way your heart always aches ever so slightly whenever you see their bond (hurt/comfort)
Skill Issue: Han's kisses are a health hazard... yet you're addicterd (fluff, humor)
– Felix –
Bronze ♡ Diamond: He challenged you to a Smash match, but he wasn't ready for your skill (humor)
– Seungmin –
Sm x Lee Know's sister (fluff, humor)
pt.1: Tangled Lines
pt.2: Caught in the Middle
pt.3: Future Hyung-in-Law
pt.4: Chauffeur Duties
pt.5: Puppy in Love
Paws off my Human: Meeting your dog was more difficult than he thought (fluff, humor)
1 Month, 1.000 Jokes: To him, you being slightly older was never a big deal (humor, fluff)
June Rain: You didn't expect the soft summer rain to complement your first vacation as a couple (fluff)
For once, you get to take care of the one who takes care of everyone.
The keys jingled in Chan’s hand when everyone spilled out of the restaurant in a laughing, stumbling mess.
Not drunk drunk – just loose with the night. Warm from soju and beer, cheeks flushed pink, voices louder than usual, every joke suddenly the funniest thing anyone had ever heard.
Three rental cars waited beneath the streetlights, still dusty from the beach parking lot earlier that afternoon.
“Okay,” Changbin announced from the other side of the lot, pointing dramatically. “Strong team with me.”
“You mean loud team,” Seungmin said.
“You mean nightmare team,” Jeongin corrected.
You ended up in the second car exactly where you’d expected: Han was already climbing into the backseat, somehow still carrying snacks in his hoodie pocket (and probably in his cheeks as well), Felix sitting beside him with his seatbelt half twisted, and Chan standing by the driver’s door, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand.
He looked beautiful in the soft, ugly parking-lot lighting. Which was unfair.
Cap low over his forehead. Sleeves pushed to his elbows. Hair messy from wind and seawater. His smile was there, touched with the kind of tired happiness that comes after a day well spent.
He’d only had one drink hours ago and switched to water after, but the day had been long – sun, swimming, driving, making sure everyone was where they needed to be, checking maps, checking reservations, checking on members, checking on you every ten minutes like you might evaporate.
You stepped closer. “Baby.”
His head lifted immediately. “Hm?”
“Let me drive.”
His eyebrows rose. “You wanna drive?”
“You're tired. And I'm sober too.”
“It’s okay. I can do it.”
“I know that you can,” you said softly. “But you don’t need to. You’re tired.”
“I’m fine.”
“You just tried to unlock the car with the house key.”
Chan let out a soft laugh, head dropping for a second, and you saw it then: the real exhaustion under the playful refusal. The kind he always ignored.
You reached for his wrist.
His fingers turned instinctively, fingers sliding through yours like they belonged there.
Your voice dropped so only he could hear.
“Chris.”
That did it. It always did.
His eyes flicked to yours.
You reached up, face leaning in towards his, and smoothed a thumb under one of his eyes. “You’ve been taking care of everyone all day. Please let me take care of you for twenty minutes.”
Something in his expression shifted.
Small. Barely there.
That look he only got when you slipped past the leader everyone knew and spoke to the man underneath it all.
He glanced down at your joined hands, thumb brushing once over your knuckles. Then he sighed through a smile and leaned his forehead against yours.
From the backseat, Felix made a scandalized little sound. “They’re being cute again.”
“They can do that any other time,” Han whined. “I wanna fall into bed.”
Chan huffed a laugh through his nose and pulled back.
“You sure?”
“Mhm.”
“You know the route?”
You nodded and held out your hand.
After a second, he dropped the keys into your palm.
“Okay.”
You smiled and tipped your head towards the passenger side. “Go on then.”
Chan blinked at you once, clearly too tired to argue, then shuffled around the front of the car without protest.
As he turned, you gave him a light, friendly smack on the butt.
He stopped mid-step and turned back, scandalized. “Hey.”
“Passenger princes don’t talk back, baby,” you said sweetly, opening the driver’s door.
Chan shook his head under his breath, smiling now despite himself, and slid into the passenger seat.
You settled behind the wheel, adjusting the seat back from where Chan had it too far for your comfort. His cologne lingered in the fabric, mixed with salt air and the faint scent of sunscreen.
From the backseat, Han gasped dramatically. “She’s driving?”
“Oh, you’ll survive,” you said, fixing the rearview mirror until Han's face appeared in it. “If not, you’re also welcome to walk back.”
He slumped lower in his seat, arms folding across his chest in exaggerated sulkiness. “ ‘was just saying, your driving is kind of scary.”
“You don’t even have a license,” you said, starting the engine. “Seatbelt, Jisung.”
“That’s why my opinion is pure,” Han said, reaching for the seatbelt with a pout. “Unbiased. Untainted by experience.”
Felix laughed so hard he immediately yawned afterward, eyes watering.
Chan’s mouth twitched, trying not to smile.
–––––
Five minutes later, Han was dead aleep.
The road curved dark and quiet along the coast, the sea only visible in flashes between trees.
Chan sat in the passenger seat with the chair leaned farther back than he ever let himself do.
But he kept looking at you.
Every time you glanced over, his eyes were already there.
He had one arm folded across his middle, the other tucked between you on the center console where his fingers occasionally squeezed yours. Not out of nervousness, but out of habit.
The boys in the back had gone from loud to silent with shocking speed.
Han was asleep first, cheek smushed against Felix’s shoulder, mouth slightly open.
Felix lasted another three songs before his head tipped sideways onto Han’s hair.
You glanced in the rearview mirror and nearly laughed.
“Look.”
Chan turned his head.
His smile came slow and helpless.
“They always act tough,” he said quietly, “then become babies after one drink.”
You smiled as well. “You gonna carry them inside later?”
“The hell I will.”
You hummed innocently. “But they’re your babies.”
“They’re adults,” he said at once. “Heavy adults. They just happen to complain a lot and expect to be pampered.”
“You raised them that way.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
He gave a soft scoff but didn’t argue harder than that.
Sleep was already pulling at him now, loosening every sharp edge. Without the need to steer, navigate, count heads, answer questions, make decisions, remind people to hydrate, remember where everyone left their bags—
There was nothing left for him to hold up.
No leader face.
No responsibility voice.
Just your boyfriend, warm, happy and slowly falling asleep in the passenger seat.
His thumb traced over your knuckles once. Twice.
“You’re staring,” you murmured.
“I’m appreciating.”
“You should rest those eyes, not look at me.”
“Can’t help it. You look really pretty when you drive.”
You laughed under your breath. “That’s the sleep talking, babe.”
“No.” His eyes were half closed, voice low and certain. “Been thinking it for ten minutes.”
“Shouldn’t you be resting?”
He leaned his head back against the headrest. “Can’t.”
“Why?”
“Like looking at you.”
You stopped at a red light. The intersection was empty, traffic signal glowing red over the quiet road.
You looked over at him again.
He was already looking at you.
Slowly, he lifted his free hand.
His fingers brushed your cheek first, palm settling there gently like he wanted to hold your face for a second before anything else. His thumb swept once across your cheekbone, slow and absentminded.
Then, he leaned across the console and kissed you.
Soft.
Unhurried.
Sleepy in the sweetest way.
You froze for half a heartbeat before kissing him back, one hand tightening on the wheel, the other moving to rest on his shoulder.
He was warm, lips slow and gentle on yours.
As he pulled away, your stomach flipped so hard it made you forget where you were.
When you opened your eyes, it took you a second to remember the car, the road, the sleeping passengers.
You turned your head.
Han was still dead asleep against Felix, entirely unaware of the world.
Felix hadn’t moved at all, breathing deep, arms wrapped around his folded jacket like a stuffed animal.
You let out a slow breath and looked back at Chan.
Who looked impossibly soft like this.
Hoodie half-zipped. Curls messy beneath his cap. Lips parted slightly with sleepiness.
And his eyes – so full of love – it made something in your chest ache.
“Tired?” you asked softly.
“No.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Can’t.”
“Why?”
“Need to make sure everyone gets home safe.”
Your chest ached in that familiar way.
Even now.
Even here.
Even with his members unconscious in the back and the day finally over, he was still holding the invisible strings of everyone else’s comfort.
You reached over and squeezed his arm.
“I’ve got them,” you said. Then softer, “I’ve got you too.”
He went very still.
Then exhaled like he’d been waiting all day to.
When the light changed, you gave him one last smile before turning back to the road and easing the car forward.
“You’re cute,” he mumbled after a minute.
“You’re delirious.”
“Probably.”
“You happy?” you asked.
“Mhm.”
“Why?”
He leaned his head against the window, still watching you.
“My girlfriend’s driving me home~”
You snorted. “That’s all it takes?”
“She’s pretty.”
“Christopher.”
“She smells nice too.”
“You’re half-asleep.”
“I’m in love.”
The words came so simply, so sleep-heavy and sincere, that your chest tightened.
You squeezed his hand.
“Go to sleep.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He squeezed your hand back once, then his grip loosened as sleep began pulling him under, yet still holding onto your hand like he didn’t know how not to.
Han's kisses are a health hazard… yet you’re addicted.
This was his fault. He was the desperate one.
Was.
Always stealing kisses whenever he passed you, always leaning in just because he could, always pressing his mouth to yours like it was a reflex. Like affection was something he couldn’t help but give away, smiling into it like it was a habit.
Somewhere along the way, it stuck.
Now the absence of it itched. The memory lingered on your lips long after the last one ended, like your body had learned something your brain hadn’t agreed to yet. Like he’d trained you without meaning to – soft lips, familiar pressure, over and over – until wanting it felt automatic.
Addiction, disguised as affection.
And there he was, sitting on his chair, headphones on, pen tapping against his notebook while a beat looped softly from his phone. Completely in his zone. Concentrated. Focused.
Not kissing you.
Unacceptable.
You reached over and paused his track.
Han looked up immediately, blinking. “Hey Bab—”
“Kiss.”
No preamble. No negotiation.
He smiled, soft and easy, like you’d asked for something obvious. “Okay.”
He leaned up and pressed a quick, polite peck to your lips. Sweet. Respectful. Over before your brain had even caught up. He leaned back again, already satisfied, already halfway returning to his notebook.
You stared at him.
“That’s it?” you said.
Han turned back to his desk, grinning like he was proud of himself. “What? It was cute.”
“That was a notification kiss. I want a real one.”
He laughed under his breath, pushed his headphones down around his neck and rolled his chair closer. This time, he leaned in properly. His hand came up automatically, cupping your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek like he needed the contact to stay grounded. He paused just long enough for you to feel his breath against your lips before he closed the last inch of space.
The kiss started gentle. Normal. Sweet. Safe.
His mouth met yours slowly, deliberately, lips fitting against yours like it was something he already knew by heart. Not rushed. Not hesitant either.
You smiled into it.
Big mistake.
Because it always went like this: soft and sweet… until some invisible switch flipped. His focus tunneled. The kiss deepened without him seeming to even realize. His breathing stayed perfectly steady – unfairly steady – while yours started to disappear entirely.
Han kissed like he performed: fully committed, zero brakes and just slightly competitive. What started soft deepened fast, his focus narrowing until the rest of the world clearly stopped existing. The notebook, the lyrics, the studio. Gone.
Just you, him and the way his lips moved against yours.
The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing yours softly – enough to make your fingers curl in his hoodie and draw a quiet, approving sound from him against your mouth, like you’d just hit the correct note.
You tried to keep up. Tried to match him. But the same breath control he used for rapid rap verses was now apparently repurposed for maximum kissing efficiency.
Halfway through, your lungs submitted their first formal complaint about oxygen.
You ignored it.
Then they filed another one.
You squeezed his sleeve once.
He didn’t notice. Didn’t pull back. Didn’t seem to need air at all
You nudged his shoulder.
Nothing.
You nudged his shoulder again.
Still nothing.
You tried to pull back a little.
But he only followed like some kind of a magnetic pull forced him to. Still kissing you. Still not breathing like a normal human being. The man had the lungs of a marathon runner and the determination of someone trying to win Olympic gold in kissing.
You finally thumped his shoulder twice and pushed away, sucking in air like you’d just resurfaced from deep water.
Han blinked at you, stunned and dazed. Then immediately pouted.
“…why’d you stop?” he asks, genuinely confused, lips still a little swollen and hair a mess.
You stared at him, still catching your breath. “Why did I stop? Bro—do you even breathe??”
His pout dropped into scandalized betrayal. “Bro?! I was being romantic and you call me bro?! YOU demanded a real kiss!”
“I wanted a kiss,” you shot back, “not a near-death experience.”
Han laughed, full volume, absolutely thriving. “I was holding back, by the way.”
“Holding back? I just saw my ancestors!"
“Skill issue.” He sat up straighter, offended but also pleased with himself. “That just means I’m a great kisser.”
“You are,” you admitted immediately. “And you’re also a health hazard.”
His grin turned shameless. “That sounds like a compliment.”
“It is not.”
“It is,” he said lightly. “You’re just mad I literally took your breath away.”
“Show-off.”
You stepped back into his space, grabbed his hoodie strings and tugged him forward until his knees bumped yours. “Do it again.”
Han paused, searching your face. “You sure?” he asked, amused. “You just accused me of attempted murder.”
You shrugged, already smiling. “There are worse ways to go.”
His grin widened, slow and dangerous. “That’s a wild thing to say.”
“But not incorrect.”
His smile softened – not smug now, just warm – and his lips met yours again, slow and deliberate. The familiar softness pressed against your mouth, fitting like it always did.
Without needing to reveal yourself, you still fed both your boyfriend and the audience.
Chris was doing a livestream in his room, voice warm and familiar as it drifted down the hallway. You sat by the kitchen table, phone popped up against a water bottle, half-listening to him through the screen while going through your study notes.
You’d been dating for years – long enough that sneaking around felt almost funny now, but after he’d finally told fans he was seeing someone, you both agreed: privacy mattered. Love didn’t need a face reveal.
… much to the dissatisfaction of his curious fans. But that had always been the agreement – support him, but never interrupt the little world he built with STAY.
From the screen, you heard him laugh lightly. “No, I ate earlier,” he said easily, shaking his head at the chat.
You frowned.
You’d been with him all evening. He definitely had not eaten.
Liar.
You sighed, stood up, and quietly headed to the stove. A simple plate: rice, chicken, some side dishes. Food he liked and definitely needed.
The hallway light was dim as you padded towards his room. The door was half open, the soft glow of the ring light spilling out. Inside, you moved carefully, staying well out of frame as you slipped the plate onto the desk beside him.
Then you were gone again, retreating like nothing happened.
Chris glanced to the side. His eyes softened instantly, and a small laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
“Oh,” he murmured, voice fond. “This is so sweet.”
He stood, picked up the plate, and turned it towards the camera with a shy grin. “Look, my girlfriend brought me food.”
The comments flooded in
CUTEE
COUPLE GOALS 🤍
SHOW HER PLS
MAPPY HER ALREADY
WE WANNA SEE HER!!
Chris laughed, shoulders shaking.
“Should I ask her to come here~?” he teased, eyes flicking toward the doorway. He already knew the answer. He just enjoyed pretending otherwise.
“Babyyyy!”
Then, louder, playful and whiny, “Babyyyy!”
“Babe, can you come here for a sec?”
You froze in the hallway.
The camera was still on.
Yet you moved back to the doorway where you knew you’d be safe, but not a single centimeter past it.
When you saw his teasing grin, you just shook your head quickly, eyes wide, refusing to even step fully inside.
“Why nottt?” Chris dragged out, pouting dramatically.
You only scrunched your nose at him in response. No way. Not yet. Not even your voice. Not the risk.
“Pleaaase?” he tried again, smiling too sweetly to ignore.
You hesitated. Then, with a quiet sigh, you stepped just BEHIND the camera. Carefully, you raised your hands and made a small heart with your index and middle fingers right in front of the lens.
The chat lost its mind.
Chris laughed, utterly charmed and steped closer to you and the camera as well. “They think that’s cute,” he said, between the screen and you. “They’re spamming that you should talk.”
Before you could escape again, he gently caught your hand and tugged you closer – careful, always careful not to pull you in frame. “She doesn’t want to show herself yet,” he told the fans, apologetic but calm.
“Sorry,” he mouthed towards the camera, but the apologetic look he gave the camera wasn’t meant for them. He squeezed your hand, reassuring.
That was when you got an idea. You knew that they wouldn't drop until they got what they wanted... So what better way to get STAY's attention off of you than...
In one smooth motion, you slipped your hand away, grabbed the hem of his shirt, and tugged it up just enough for the camera to catch a glimpse of his toned abs… then you bolted for the door.
The reaction was instant.
The chat exploded.
Chris yelped, eyes wide, ears burning as he hurriedly yanked his shirt back down. “Yah—!” He cleared his throat, flustered, trying (and failing) to regain composure. He turned his head, just in time to see you at the doorway, shaking his head with an amused, helpless smile.
“Babe—”
Before he could finish, you flashed him the most innocent smile and a not so apologetic finger heart, then disappeared down the hall, door clicking shut behind you.
“God—” Chris muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.
He looked back at the camera, embarrassed but laughing
“My girlfriend, everyone,” he said fondly. “Brings me food and drives me crazy.”
Stitched with Love: Stray Kids' reactions to their S/O crocheting a SKZOO gift
request: "bf!ot8 reacting to their s/o gifting them a handmade skzoo beanie/pair of gloves"
Bang Chan
You hadn’t even meant to make it a secret. You really hadn’t. It was just that…
Well, Bang Chan in work mode was a force of nature.
When he was focused like this: Eyebrows slightly furrowed, lower lip caught between his teeth, hair falling over his forehead – he wouldn’t have noticed if Felix walked in wearing a clown costume.
So your crocheting went unnoticed too.
Night after night, curled up on the couch behind him, you worked quietly and the beanie-in-progress grew, round by round. A little gray, a little white… tiny black accents… and even little wolf ears you shaped with extra care.
He had no idea.
Not until tonight.
“Mm… maybe this chord instead?” Chris muttered to himself, swiveling slightly in his chair with his headphones half-off.
You tightened the final knot.
Your heart fluttered with excitement. Carefully, you stood, padding towards him on silent feet. He didn’t even glance back – he was already clicking through files again, lost in the mix.
You smiled.
“Channie.”
He hummed absentmindedly. “Mmm?”
You carefully slipped his headphones off his ears and gently pulled the beanie down over his messy curls instead.
He froze.
Both hands hovered mid-air, his entire brain short-circuiting.
“W–wait—what—?” His fingers scrambled to touch the beanie. “When—? What—is this?”
You giggled. “I made it for you.”
He spun around in his chair, his eyes were huge, warm, and so full of emotion you felt your chest tighten.
“You… made this?” he breathed, gently pulling the beanie off to properly look at it in his hands.
You nodded. “Yep. It’s a beanie and Wolfchan.”
His fingers traced the neat stitches, the little ears, the careful details. Then he looked up again.
“You were crocheting in here? All this time?”
“You never noticed,” you teased softly.
Chris groaned and covered his face with the beanie. “Oh my god… How did I not notice? I’m the worst.”
You laughed. “You’re not the worst. You were just focused.”
“Still…” He tugged you into his lap without warning, arms wrapping around you. His voice dropped to something warm and tender. “I should have noticed.” He held you tighter. “But.. baby, you crocheting something for me. That’s… domestic. In like… a whole new level.”
You looped your arms around his shoulders, smiling. “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s—” He buried his nose against the top of your head, muffling his flustered laugh. “It’s the best thing. I love it. I love you.”
You chuckle, mischievously leaning your head to the side. “Giving you even more reasons to pop the question?”
“You have no idea.”
Lee Know
You held your little crochet project of the past weeks in your hands: A soft white headband modeled after Leebit, completed with the adorable little pink nose and floppy ears. It’s cute. Really cute.
When your boyfriend walked into the living room, fresh from practice, hair damp and towel draped around his neck, you brightened.
“Minho! I made something for you,” you announced.
He slowed, eyeing you with suspicion. “That tone is dangerous.”
You stuck your tongue out. “Just sit.”
He perched on the very edge of the couch, as if prepared for an ambush. You held the crocheted headband behind your back.
“Okay,” you began, a little nervous, “don’t laugh.”
“Why would I laugh?” he asked flatly.
You revealed the headband.
He stared. A long, unreadable stare.
“…That’s Leebit,” he finally said, expression unmoving.
“Yes!” you said. “I crocheted it myself.”
Silence. Then he sighed the most put-upon sigh known to humanity.
“Come here,” he muttered, tilting his head down slightly.
You blinked. “You’ll wear it?”
“You made it.” He said it like that explains everything.
You approached, carefully sliding the headband over his hair, adjusting the ears so they sit just right. And the sight of Minho, a grown man, cool exterior, wearing the softest bunny headband imaginable was… lethal.
You bit your lip to keep from smiling too much.
He noticed immediately.
“Say it.” He leaned back against the couch. “Tell me I’m cute.”
You choked on a laugh. “But you told me not to—”
“Tell me.” His tone was stern, but his ears – well, the crocheted ones – bob slightly as he shifted, taking away from his seriousness.
You inhaled, failing miserably to hide your smile.
“You look adorable,” you admitted softly.
He nodded once, satisfied, as if this was the expected and correct outcome. “Good.”
You bursted into giggles then, unable to contain it.
He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t push it.”
“I’m not!” You gently pinched one of the floppy ears between your fingers. “You’re just… really cute.”
He huffed but didn't remove the headband. Soonie, perched on the couch arm, stared at him with the slow disapproval only a cat can master.
“Even your own cat is judging you,” you teased.
“He’s jealous,” Minho said without an ounce of irony.
You snorted. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, you confessed, “I was originally going to crochet these for the cats… but I thought you’d scold me for using them as dress-up dolls.”
Minho blinked once. Twice.
Then he shrugged. “You can try,” he said. “But if they tear it apart, that’s not on me.”
Your mouth dropped open. “Wait—you’re letting me put outfits on them now?”
“I didn’t say outfits,” he corrected. “I said this. Singular. Also, if Dori puts a hole in it, you’re not allowed to cry.”
You grinned. “No promises.”
He groaned dramatically. “Why do I even talk?”
“Because you love me~.”
Changbin
You stared down at the small crocheted Dwaekki in your hands. It’s adorable – at least to you – but that didn’t stop the flutter of nerves in your stomach. This was supposed to make him smile, lighten his grumpiness, make up for what happened.
You winced at the memory.
The original Dwaekki. The first one he called his own. The one he always insisted wasn’t a big deal… while being just a little too sulky whenever he glanced at the empty spot it used to sit in.
Sure, he could get another one. He could get a hundred more. But that wasn’t the point, and you knew it.
That was why you spent three nights hunched over yarn and YouTube tutorials, whispering “I swear this is the last attempt” about 15 times.
And now here you were, clutching your creation while standing in the doorway of his room.
Changbin swiveled in his chair, pulling off his headphones when he noticed you. “Hey baby,” he said with a soft smile, then narrowed his eyes when he saw that you’re hiding something behind your back. “What are you up to?”
You stepped forward slowly. “Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not ma—okay, that’s definitely a setup for something.”
You laughed awkwardly and presented the plushie with both hands, like an offering to a very cute but easily offended deity. “I… made this. For you.”
His eyebrows lifted, confusion flickering first. Then he took it carefully, holding it as if it might melt in his hands.
“This is Dwaekki.”
“Yeah.”
“You… crocheted Dwaekki?”
You nodded.
He turned it slowly, inspecting the tiny details. You expected a grin. Or teasing. Or maybe a dramatic rant about how you lost his first son.
Instead, he went still.
“Wait… this is custom?” His voice softened, the edges warming. “You actually made this? For me?”
Your cheeks warmed. “I felt really bad about the other one… so I wanted to replace it. Well. Not replace. Obviously. But—yeah… it’s for you.”
He hugged it to his chest. Then he glared at you, but his eyes are shiny in the corners. “Why would I be mad about this?” he said, sounding offended in the most gentle way possible. “This is—this is way better than the original.”
“Really?”
“Are you kidding? This one’s special. You made it with your tiny, adorable hands.” He wiggled the plushie at you. “My Dwaekki. Made by my girlfriend. This is elite. This is top tier. This is—”
He paused, squeezing the plushie’s belly, and smirked.
“But wait… can you make it buffer?”
You snorted. “Changbin. It’s a plushie.”
“Yeah, but look at him! He works out. He must have the gains. He needs deltoids. Maybe a little chest definition.”
“I can add more filling…but I’m only increasing the belly. Not the biceps.”
He gasped. “You’re sabotaging Dwaekki’s physique!”
“I’m enhancing his cuteness.”
He groaned but pulled you into his arms anyway, pressing his face into your neck. The plushie squished between you, and he held all three of you together.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Really. I love it. You have no idea how much.”
Hyunjin
You and Hyunjin spent the afternoon together in that comfortable silence only long-time lovers can manage – him at his easel, brush tapping rhythmically against a jar, and you on the couch, crocheting something small and long and vaguely suspicious.
Well, suspicious to him.
Every few minutes he’d steal a glance over his shoulder, pretending he wasn’t absolutely dying to know what was taking shape in your hands. His brush would hover mid-air, forgotten, before he forced himself to look back at the canvas.
But he didn’t speak.
Not until the shape in your lap began growing a very recognizable pattern: a little head… a beak… two tiny yellow wings poking out at the sides.
“…Is that—”
He leaned out of his chair, squinting.
“Is that BbokAri?”
You bit back a grin. “Maybe.”
He blinked. Once. Twice. Then his eyes widened with betrayal. “You’re making Felix’s SKZOO?”
“Yes,” you said cheerfully. “When I talked to him the other day, we came up with the cutest idea—a crocheted BbokAri scarf! And now,” you held up the tiny yellow face with its tiny smile, “I have the perfect plan for his birthday present.”
Hyunjin just stared at you, lower lip poking out ever so slightly. It wasn’t dramatic sulking – more like soft, quiet sulking, the kind that curled around the edges of his pride. “I can’t believe you’re making Felix’s first.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I was gonna make yours?”
Hyunjin’s head snapped towards you. “You—! Because I’m your boyfriend!”
You snorted. “And I’m your girlfriend. Not your factory.”
His mouth fell open. “You made Felix’s!”
“Yes,” you said calmly, “because he asked nicely.”
“I can ask nicely,” he insisted, immediately straightening his posture, eyes big, voice suddenly sugary. “Pleeease?”
You bit your lip, pretending to deliberate. “Hmm… maybe.”
“Maybe??” he gasped.
You laughed, and he slumped dramatically against the back of his chair.
“Not even a tiny Jiniret?” he tried again. “A… a keychain? A baby one?” He pinched his fingers together pathetically. “You’re sadistic. Borderline evil.”
“I just wanted Felix’s gift ready early,” you explained softly.
“It’s okay,” he sighed. “I’ll just… suffer. ”
You giggled. “You’re the most dramatic person I’ve ever met.”
“And yet you love me,” he muttered.
“I do,” you said, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “But of course I’m going to make yours. I just needed to keep you humble.”
He sat up. “Then I want it in white and beige. And fluffy. And long enough to wrap around us both.”
You shook your head. “You realize that’s like… weeks of crocheting?”
Hyunjin just beamed, looping his arm around you. “I can wait.”
You rolled your eyes, but your heart softened as he snuggled closer, careful not to disturb your yarn.
“Fine,” you said at last. “What do you offer as payment?”
He blinked. “Payment?”
“For craftsmanship.”
His voice dropped, soft and playful. “...I’m willing to pay in kisses?”
He leaned in to kiss you, soft, warm, unfairly sweet.
“Down payment,” he whispered when he pulled back.
You laugh, heart melting. “That barely covers the consultation fee.”
Han
You hadn’t even planned on wearing it.
You were already running late. The weather had taken a sudden turn towards freeze-your-face-off levels of cold, and you’d rushed out the door with your arms full – bag, scarf, keys, and whatever dignity you had left. On your way out, you simply grabbed the first hat your hands brushed against.
Unfortunately (or very fortunately, depending on perspective) that hat happened to be a certain newly crocheted HanQuokka bucket hat.
Which is how you ended up on Han’s doorstep, nose pink from the cold, breath fogging in the air as you knocked.
The door opened immediately.
Han poked his head out, hair a soft, fluffy mess, hoodie sleeves too long, eyes lighting up the second he saw you.
“Babyyyy, you’re lat—Wait. Waitwaitwaitwait—WHAT is that?”
You blinked. “A hat? Kind of the point in this weather.”
“No.” He stepped aside to let you in, though his eyes did NOT leave your head. “Not just a hat. That hat.”
“It was cold, I just grabbed something—”
“Something?” he repeated in a gasp. “SOMETHING? That’s literally me in hat form!”
As you toed off your shoes, you glanced towards the mirror, studying the crocheted bucket hat on your head – the brown yarn, the round little ears, the tiny embroidered grin that matched his SKZOO character. It even had a small pink blush stitched on each cheek.
“Right, I finished it a few weeks back.”
He let out a sound that was somewhere between a squeak and a dramatic gasp, stepping closer, eyes shining as he examined it.
“You crocheted a HanQuokka hat.”
“Mhm.”
“And you’re wearing it.”
“Because it’s cold.”
“Because you love me,” he corrected smoothly.
You snorted. “Sure. That too.”
“Baby, it’s literally adorable.” His eyes softened. “You made this?”
“Well, yeah. I felt like making something cute to wear. And HanQuokka is cute.”
He gasped dramatically. “You think HanQuokka is cute but not me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t deny it fast enough,” he accused, but he was already smiling. “I want one.”
You raised a brow. “Oh? Now you want one?”
“Obviously! How can you make a HanQuokka hat and not automatically make one for the real HanQuokka? That’s false advertising.”
You were still laughing when he suddenly darted forward, snatching the hat right off your head.
“JISUNG!”
“Nope.” He said, already tugging it over his hair with the most self-satisfied grin. “Mine now.”
“It is NOT—give it back!”
“Nope.” He backed away quickly. “You wore it into my house. That means you brought it for me.”
“That is NOT how—give it!”
You lunged, but he was quicker, darting behind the couch, while holding the hat protectively with both hands.
“It suits me better!” he declared. “I AM the quokka!”
“You stole it!”
“I reclaimed my identity!”
You finally managed to get the hat halfway off his head, but he used his secret weapon: he buried his face against your neck and whined loudly.
“Babyyy. Let me have iiiit. I’ll wear it. I’ll protect it with my life”
…
Truth be told, that hat never saw your closet ever again.
Felix
Felix didn’t think a scarf could feel like this.
You had handed it to him with a shy smile, the yarn still smelling faintly like your detergent. It was soft – ridiculously so – and big enough that he laughed when he unfolded it.
You’d meant it to be a scarf, but every time you thought it was long enough, you added more. At some point, the scarf became… more. Longer. Wider. Thick enough to wrap around his neck twice and still drape over his shoulders like a blanket. You laughed when you were finished, holding it up.
“It’s a scarf,” you’d said quickly, then corrected yourself. “But also kind of a blanket.”
He noticed the colors first: warm yellows and creams, little details carefully stitched in. And then he saw the embroidered face. Bbokkari. His Bbokkari. Crocheted with so much care it made his chest ache.
You watched him nervously as he wrapped it around his neck, the ends falling almost to his waist.
“Every time I wear this,” he said softly, pulling it closer, “I’ll think of you.”
He’d said it so simply, like a promise he didn’t even realize he was making.
You hadn’t known then just how true it would be.
-----
Now, he was on the other side of the world.
The city outside his hotel window was gray and unfamiliar, lights blurred by frost and glass. Winter bit harder here, settling deep into his bones after long days of schedules and rehearsals. The room felt too quiet once the others drift off to their own spaces.
He had the scarf wrapped around his neck once, twice, the rest pulled up over his head. The yarn was warm, weighty, falling over his shoulders and down his back. It still smelled faintly like the detergent you use. Like home. Like you.
The other members noticed immediately when they walked past.
Changbin paused, glancing over. Hyunjin’s expression softened. Even Han didn’t joke this time.
Because they knew.
That scarf-blanket meant Felix is missing you. Badly.
Not the playful, “I miss my girlfriend” kind of missing. The quiet kind. The kind where he wished he could just pull you close, tuck your face under his chin, share warmth instead of wool and yarn.
Felix adjusted the scarf, hugging it closer, eyes unfocused as he scrolled through his phone. Then he opened the camera.
He raised his phone, taking a selfie just as he was: scarf wrapped around his neck, hooded over his head, Bbokkari design peeking into frame. His eyes were a little tired, but sincere.
It’s really cold here.
But I’m warm.
Seungmin
You’d been hiding the tiny crocheted… thing in your drawer for days, mostly because you weren’t sure if it even looked like PuppyM. The proportions were uneven, one ear was a little floppy, and the head tilted just slightly to the right even though you swore you hadn’t stitched it that way.
But it was still cute… right?
And you had made it for him. With your own clumsy, determined hands.
When you finally pulled it out and held it towards him, Seungmin blinked.
“…You made this?” he asked, voice low with genuine surprise.
You nodded quickly. “I know it’s not perfect, but—”
He cut you off with a small huff of a laugh. “Not perfect?” He tilted the keychain between his fingers, examining it. “Hmm. He looks a little… drunk.”
“Seungmin!”
He looked up at you, eyes already softening. The tease had lasted all of two seconds before guilt caught up to him. He reached out and tapped your arm lightly.
“Hey. I’m kidding.”
A beat.
“…Mostly.”
“Seungmin!”
This time he actually laughed – a warm, breathy sound that made your embarrassment melt just a little. He turned the keychain again.
“It’s cute,” he said quietly. “Really cute.”
You were about to thank him when he added: “A little drunk.” He smirked. “But still cute.”
But the next day, without announcing it, your little PuppyM was clipped neatly onto his keychain, dangling from his bag where he could see it every time he reached for something. He didn’t show it off… but he also didn’t hide it.
And the members didn’t oversee it.
“Bro, what’s that? Is that—wait, is that PuppyM?!”
Seungmin didn’t look up from his phone. “Mm.”
“It’s cute,” Felix chimed in, leaning over for a closer look. “It looks handmade. Did someone make it for you?”
This time, Seungmin finally glanced up, and there was the tiniest spark of warning in his eyes. Not threatening, just…
Say one more word and you’ll regret it.
The members immediately grinned because that alone was enough to tell them everything.
“Ahhh,” Changbin said, dragging the sound out, “so it was her.”
Seungmin didn’t deny it. Just calmly zipped his bag closed, blocking the view.
Later that week, you stepped into his apartment and nearly stumbled over a small shopping bag left by the door. Inside were three skeins of yarn, soft, pastel, perfect for crochet.
You frowned. “Minnie? Did you buy this?”
He didn’t look up from the couch where he was scrolling on his phone. “No.”
You lifted one eyebrow.
He sighed, locking his phone. “…Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I saw you were running out,” he muttered. “And you said that brand was better quality, so…”
“So you did buy it.”
“You need to practice because you can’t keep making PuppyM an alcoholic.”
I.N
The dorm was quieter than usual. Jeongin is sitting on the couch, humming under his breath while scrolling on his phone, cheeks puffed slightly in concentration. He looked peaceful, and that makes your heart beat faster because of the gift tucked behind your back, wrapped carefully in purple paper.
“Innie,” you said, trying to sound casual.
He looked up instantly, eyes bright. “Yeah?”
“I, um… I made you something.”
That was enough to put his phone down. He sat up so fast you laughed, and he tilted his head, curious like a fox spotting something interesting. “You made something?”
You nodded and handed the warped gift to him.
He unwraped it slowly (surprisingly carefully for someone who usually tears into gifts). When the crocheted beret finally comes into view, his eyes widen. It’s soft, beige with little pink fox ears stitched neatly on top, the design unmistakably FoxI.Ny.
“…No way,” he whispered.
He turned it over in his hands, thumbs brushing over the stitches. “You really made this? By hand?”
“Yeah,” you said. “It’s inspired by FoxI.Ny and I thought it suited you.”
He let out a shy laugh. “It is FoxI.Ny,” he says, then added softly, “This is so cute.”
Before you could say anything else, he stepped closer and gently placed the beret on your head instead. His hands adjusted it, fingers careful not to mess up your hair. He took a step back, tilted his head, and studied you with a fond smile.
“…It looks cuter on you,” he said honestly.
You pouted. “Hey, I made that for you.”
“That’s why it’s cute. Because you made it.”
Heat creeped into your cheeks. “Glad you like it. That took some time after all.”
“Wait,” he said, suddenly serious. “How long did this take you?”
You hesitated. “It… uh… took a while.”
He paused, looking at you again, brows knitting together. “A while like… a couple of hours?”
“…A few days, mostly at night. Maybe… around 12 hours total?”
“12—” His eyes went wide, jaw dropping a little. “For this? You spent 12 hours making this?”
You nodded, suddenly shy. “I kept redoing the ears because they didn’t look right, and I had to restart the brim twice—”
He let out a breathy laugh, half-disbelief, half-awe. “That’s… that’s crazy,” he said, shaking his head.
He glanced between you and the beret, a small smile tugging at his lips. Then, like a thought has just clicked into place, his expression brightens.
“But… can we… um… have matching ones?” His voice was soft, almost shy, but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his excitement.
“Matching ones?” you echoed, a laugh escaping your lips.
He nodded, cheeks faintly pink. “Yeah… I want one for me, and one for you… then we’ll be… like… FoxI.Ny twins.”
He gently took the beret off your head and put it on himself this time, adjusting it with a proud little smile. “And… um… thanks. This is… really special. You’re really special.”
hiii!! i have an idea for a seungmin fic, are you taking requests for longer fics or smaus 🥺
i’d love to (especially since i enjoy writing for seungmin and am pleasantly surprised it's for him), but tbh i don’t really have time to write longer things 😅... barely write at all lately
you can still tell me your idea if you want but I can’t promise anything with how my life is lately
Hiiii, i love your work so much and I just got an idea which you might like; bf!ot8 reacting to their s/o gifting them a handmade skzoo beanie/pair of gloves.
I personally love crocheting things and gifting them to loved ones, so let's say I've gotten a little delusional with this thought XD
heyy, you're right, I REALLY love your idea – it's so cute!
i finally had the time to write it... just took "some" time... 😶😶
Lost in Translation: Stray Kids' reaction to their SO's native language
A/N: italicized words -> you speaking in your native language
Bang Chan
The studio was warm with energy. Changbin and Han bounced ideas back and forth, their voices layering over each other while Chris leaned over his laptop, frowning in concentration. You sat curled up on the couch a few feet away, a quiet observer to their chaos.
Your phone buzzed, and when you saw the name – your childhood friend from back home – your face lit up. The two of you had been planning their visit to you for quite a while now. Without thinking, you answered. “Hi~”
Instantly, three sets of eyes – Chris’, Changbin’s, and Han’s – snapped towards you.
You hesitated, heat rising in your cheeks, and turned slightly away, though you could still feel their gazes burning into your back. “Um… yeah, we’ll figure out how to get you from the airport to my place,” you murmured into the phone, then added with a quiet laugh, “I think I should tell you… three very curious sets of eyes are staring at me right now.”
You looked over to them, knowing they wouldn’t understand, but your tone and glaze was enough to make them realize that you were talking about them.
Changbin arched his brows, mouthing, “What did she say?”
Han leaned forward, stage-whispering, “It sounded serious. Is she talking about us?”
Your voice faltered, and you glanced at Chris. He wasn’t saying anything, just watched you with a small, proud smile tugging at his lips. His smile softened as he watched you, pride flickering in his glance. It was subtle, but it made you stumble over your words nevertheless.
When you finally hung up, you exhaled. “Sorry,” you said quickly. “That was my friend from home.”
Chris tilted his head, eyes crinkling. “Don’t be sorry. I liked hearing you talk like that.”
“Hyung!” Han groaned. “Don’t just say that—what did she say?!”
Chris leaned back, smirking. “How would I know?”
“You do know! You always know!”
Lee Know
Minho and you wandered past a row of little cafés and shops when a man approached, looking around with wide, uncertain eyes. He stammered in broken Korean, clutching a crumpled map.
“E-excuse me… subway… station?” he tried.
Before Minho could answer, you caught the familiar lilt of his accent. It tugged at something deep inside you. Instinctively, you switched into your native language.
The man’s eyes went wide with relief. “Oh, thank goodness!” he exclaimed, instantly launching into a flurry of questions.
You smiled, tracing routes on his map, pointing out cafés and street names and offering quick reassurances. The conversation flowed easily, and for a few moments, it felt like you’d been transported back to your childhood streets.
Beside you, Minho had fallen strangely silent. Hands buried in his pockets, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his sharp eyes darting between you and the tourist even though he didn’t understand a single word. His usual calm confidence seemed to flicker, replaced by something smaller, something oddly vulnerable.
You finally sent the man off with a smile and a polite farewell, watching him disappear down the street. When you turned back, Minho was still there, lips pressed into a thin line.
“What?” you asked, a little amused by his expression.
He blinked, then let out a soft huff, the corner of his mouth twitching. “So…” he muttered, tilting his head, “that’s what you sound like when you’re scolding me in your head, huh?”
You swatted at him, laughing.
But then his tone dropped, sincere. “It’s… really attractive. Don’t hide it from me, okay?”
You laughed lightly, trying to shake off the sudden weight in his words. “It’s just my first language, Minho. Not a secret personality.”
“Still,” he said, glancing back at you with that familiar, infuriating half-smile. “you seemed different.”
You rolled your eyes, tugging his sleeve as you started walking again. “You’re imagining things.”
He followed easily, his stride matching yours, voice low and teasing. “Am I? Because you’re blushing right now. Or am I just imagining that too, huh?”
Changbin
One careless step and your toe slammed into the coffee table. Pain shot up your leg, and before you could stop yourself, a string of colorful words flew out in your native language – sharp, fast, and definitely not polite.
Changbin, who had been flipping through his phone on the couch, shot upright like he’d just witnessed a crime. “Wait—WHAT was that?”
You were too busy hopping on one foot, clutching your poor toe like it might fall off, to respond properly. “Nothing!” you wheezed.
His eyes went wide, but a grin was already tugging at his lips. “No, no, no—don’t hide it! That sounded powerful. Like… dangerous—Wait, are you ok?”
“I’m great”, you breathed out through your teeth and dropped onto the couch beside him, still nursing your toe. “That was a bad word.”
“A bad word, huh?” His grin widened. “That sounded so intense! What did you say? Was it like… a level 10 of swear?”
Rolling your eyes, you muttered, “Something like that.”
“Teach me!” Changbin leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful whine. “Come on, I wanna sound fierce too!”
You hesitated, already picturing him shouting the word in the middle of a conversation or even in public.
“Come on~,” he sing-songed, eyes pleading like an overexcited puppy.
“Fine,” you said, pointing a stern finger at him, “But you cannot — cannot — say it around other people.”
“Of course,” his grin only grew. “I would never.”
Hyunjin
You were curled up on the couch, the warm aroma of food from your hometown filling the living room. The scent was pure nostalgia – savory, sweet, comforting – the kind of smell that made you close your eyes and feel, just for a moment, like you were a little kid in your mother's kitchen again.
Hyunjin wandered over, hair still damp from his shower, and tilted his head curiously. “What’s that smell?” he asked, eyes already darting to the bowl in your lap.
You smiled, picking up a bite. “It’s called [food name],” you explained, the syllables rolling off your tongue naturally in your native language.
Hyunjin froze. “Wait—say that again.” he said, moving closer.
You chuckled but humored him, repeating it slower this time.
Something about the way you spoke your language had his face softening instantly. “You sound… different when you speak your language,” he admitted, sitting beside you and resting his chin on your shoulder. “Like softer? Or maybe it’s just—you sound really pretty.”
His eyes flicked down to the food again. “Can I try?”
You lifted a piece towards him, holding it out playfully. “Here, open up.”
He took the piece and chewed thoughtfully, then his eyes lit up. “Mmm—it’s good! What did you call it again?”
You repeated the name, watching him squint as he tried to copy your pronunciation.
“Foo…brr… no, wait. Fbl— okay, I’m close!”
“Not even a little,” you giggled.
He tried again, tripping over the sounds but determined. His pronunciation was clumsy, but the way he scrunched his nose and tried again made your heart melt.
“Your language is conspiring against me.”
You brushed his hair back from his forehead. “You’re adorable. But maybe stick to eating for now.”
“Fine,” he pouted dramatically, then leaned in, eyes mischievous. “Gimmie more?”
Han
Han’s dorm room was quiet, the air softened by the warm glow of a desk lamp across the room. Shadows stretched lazily along the walls, giving everything a hushed, intimate feel.
You were sprawled across his bed, head nestled into one of his pillows that smelled faintly of his cologne. Your thumb idly scrolled down your phone screen, half-paying attention, half just enjoying being there while Han sat across from you – knees tucked up, messy hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled lyric fragments in a notebook that he probably wouldn’t revisit until tomorrow.
Without really thinking, you started to hum. It was low, gentle, the kind of sound that melted perfectly into the quiet. The hum turned into half-formed words of a song in your native language, quiet and unguarded.
Han’s pen froze mid-air.
For a second, there was silence – then the scratch of the chair as he spun around so fast his notebook nearly fell to the floor.
“Wait—” he blinked, almost as if he wasn’t sure he heard you right. “What was that…?”
You froze, thumb hovering over your phone screen. “Oh—yeah, sorry. Just…habit, I guess.”
“Don’t say sorry!” His voice was soft but eager, his smile stretching wider as he slid off his chair and crossed the short distance to the bed. “That was neither Korean nor English. That was your language, right?”
You nodded, feeling heat bloom in your cheeks. “Yeah.”
Han’s eyes softened, but there was excitement flickering behind them. “You’ve never sung in your language before… it’s so beautiful. Can you sing it all the way for me, baby?”
He plopped down beside you and added a pleading pout that he knew you couldn’t say ‘no’ to. “Please?”
Felix
The living room was quiet except for the soft hum of the TV and the sound of Felix’s steady breathing against your hair as you were curled up together on the couch.
Half-dreaming, you nuzzled closer and mumbled a word from your native language, a tender little pet name you’d grown up hearing older couples use, the kind that always made you smile.
Felix stiffened. His head lifted with his eyes wide in surprise. “Wait—wait, what did you just call me?”
Your cheeks warmed immediately. “It’s… um… just a nickname. Like a cute one couples use where I’m from.” You buried your face against his chest, half-giggling, half-embarrassed. “Forget I said it.”
“But seriously, that’s cute. No, seriously—adorable.” He gently tilted your cheek up, his accent soft as he repeated the word, trying it on his tongue.
“Did I say it right?” he asked, eyes glinting with mischief. “That’s me now, yeah?”
You groaned, laughing. “You’re going to butcher it.”
“Then teach me,” he said, lowering his voice playfully. “Say it again.”
You did, reluctantly, and he repeated it back – closer this time.
He tightened his arms around you, pulling you flush against him, the proudest smile lighting up his whole face. “I’m never letting you call me anything else. That’s mine now.”
And before you could protest, he peppered your temple with quick kisses, murmuring the nickname again and again like he was savoring a secret only the two of you shared.
Seungmin
Seungmin and you had just finished a late afternoon walk when a fluffy golden retriever trotted up to the two of you. Its tail wagged so enthusiastically that you couldn’t help but squat down and greet it, smiling as it leaned into your hands.
Without even thinking, the words slipped out in your native language, a cheerful sing-song of baby talk and cooing that made the dog tilt its head, ears perked with curiosity.
Behind you, Seungmin chuckled, the sound amused and teasing.
“Uh… you know,” he said, crouching down beside you, “I don’t think this dog is your nationality.” His lips curved into a grin as he watched the dog happily enjoying your pets.
You glanced up at him, cheeks warming. “It just slipped out,” you said, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “I always talked to animals like this back home.”
He watched you for a beat, his voice softer now. “It’s kinda cute. I didn’t know you sounded like that,” he admitted quietly, more to himself than to you. Then, as if catching himself, he cleared his throat. “Guess I’ll have to learn, so I can keep up.”
The dog barked happily, tail thumping against the pavement when its owner jogged towards you, breathless and apologetic. You both stood, and while the owner thanked you and clipped the leash back on, Seungmin’s stayed fixed on you – a quiet curve to his mouth.
When the dog trotted off, he mumbled softly, “You know, maybe you should talk to me in your language more often.”
You shook your head. “I’ll think about it.”
He straightened up, pretending to brush dust from his jeans. “Good. Just… not with the dog,” he said. “I’ll get jealous.”
I.N
The two of you stepped into the cozy little restaurant tucked away on a quiet street. The scent of sizzling dishes and fresh herbs filled the air. Jeongin held the menu in his hands, scanning the options.
When the waiter approached, you smiled warmly and ordered the menu in your native language, effortlessly flowing through the dishes. Jeongin blinked at you, a little wide-eyed, though he already knew you were fluent.
The waiter paused, then grinned. “Wow… your pronunciation is perfect,” he said, clearly impressed.
You laughed softly. “Thank you,” you said, and then added with a grin, “I’m actually a native speaker.”
Jeongin’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening slightly. He leaned in closer to you, mock-shocked. “Wait—what? You can speak it perfectly?”
You couldn’t help but giggle, shaking your head at him. “I told you I could speak it!”
He leaned in, eyes wide but twinkling with amusement. “I know, I know, but hearing you… it just hits differently. It’s like—whoa.” He gestured vaguely, as if the air might explain what he meant.
“Well,” you teased, “now the waiter knows too.”
Jeongin groaned, rubbing the back of his neck as his ears turned pink. “Great.”
As the waiter left with your order, Jeongin kept sneaking glances at you, his expression softening each time. “But seriously,” he said, voice quieter now, “you’re amazing.”
You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “You’re just saying that because I ordered for us.”
He laughed. “Maybe. But I’m also saying it because it’s true.”
could you do a reaction for stray kids for them seeing/ you telling them about your old self harm scars for the first time ? i’m recovered & im still insecure about people finding out/ seeing them & their reactions
i actually wrote something similar before, you might want to check that out :3 -> here
After months of false alarms, Lee Know proves he’s more than just bark and no bite.
pt.2 of Just tying the knot
It had been three days away from the city and Minho had been a bit… odd.
Not in the obvious “something’s wrong” kind of way. Just… off. Like his mind was somewhere else.
But Minho had “weird days” sometimes. You didn’t press.
The two of you had escaped to a quiet countryside guesthouse, tucked behind a wraparound garden with a sky so clear it felt scrubbed clean.
You’d spend most of the day walking trails, feeding stray cats near the village market, and laughing at how Minho, predictably, kept getting distracted by every single one. Every cat, no matter how scruffy or aloof, had his full attention until you tugged at his sleeve and teased, “We’re not adopting another, you know.”
“Just saying hello,” he’d mutter, but his grin betrayed him.
By night, the air had cooled enough for you to pull on a sweater. Maybe you were wearing his. Maybe you always ended up wearing his.
You stood with him on the patio, a blanket draped over both your shoulders, leaning against the railing of the little patio, little soft light illuminating the space around you like little fireflies. Above you, the stars spilled wide and bright, scattered like spilled glitter across an endless black canvas.
“Wow,” you breathed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many.”
Beside you, Minho hummed low in his chest. His hand was warm, wrapped around yours beneath the blanket. “City doesn’t let you. Too many lights.”
You tilted your chin skyward, trying to trace the constellations you half-remembered from textbooks. But when Minho spoke again, his voice was softer – almost thoughtful. “Kind of unfair how pretty it is.”
But when you glanced over, he wasn’t looking at the sky.
He was looking at you.
You tried to play it off, tilting your head back again to search the stars, but you felt the weight of his gaze linger. His thumb brushed absently over your knuckles. And in that unspoken way you sometimes did, you thought about how seamlessly your life had folded into his. There was no border anymore between yours and his – it had happened without either of you noticing.
His hand shifted. You looked down to see his fingers brushing the delicate chain at your throat – the small pendant that had been his very first gift to you years ago, back when the two of you had been dating only a few months. You hadn’t even realized you’d grabbed it this morning.
He held it between his fingers for a beat, a faint smile flickering across his lips that said more than words could before lifting his gaze towards the sky. His eyes lingered for a moment, like he was grounding himself in the endless stretch of stars. When his gaze came back to you, it carried a weight you couldn’t name yet.
But he didn’t say anything. Just released the pendant carefully, letting it fall back against your skin.
“Hey…” He reached for your hand, squeezing it in his for a moment.
Before you could respond, he let go.
Not abruptly. Just… gently. Lingering, like he was reluctant to break the contact. You watched his fingers slip away from yours, confused, until he took one slow step back.
Then another.
And then—he lowered to one knee.
For a heartbeat, your brain didn’t compute. Your first thought – embarrassingly – was ‘Oh, here we go again’. That stupid reflex from months of false alarms flaring up, a half-second muscle memory of exasperation. But when your eyes met his, the thought died instantly.
No smirk. No glint of mischief. Just… Minho, looking up at you. His expression was shy – almost nervous – with the faintest crease between his brows like he wasn’t sure if he could get the words out right.
Your chest tightened.
“Minho…” you said softly, the blanket slipping from your shoulders.
He took a breath, eyes flicking briefly towards the ground before finding yours again. The patio light caught in his eyes, warm and bright. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said quietly. “That I’m messing with you again.”
You huffed out a tiny laugh, because, well… yeah. “Kind of hard not to.”
His lips quirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I meant it when I told you I’d want you to know when it’s real. And.. this is.”
The air around you shifted, heavy with something beyond jokes and teases.
He reached into his jacket pocket, and your breath caught when he pulled out a small velvet box.
“This isn’t because you threatened to beat me to it,” he said, his voice warm but still carrying that edge of nervousness. “And it’s not because I ran out of ways to tease you.”
Your throat tightened painfully.
“It’s because,” he went on, “after five years of you putting up with me. Laughing with me, making me feel like—” he swallowed, “—like I’m home no matter where we are… I can’t picture any part of my life without you in it. And… I don’t want to keep living a life where I hope you’ll always be there. I want to know. I want to make it certain. I want it to be us. Always.”
You blinked rapidly. You weren’t the type to cry, and you’d probably laugh at yourself if you did. But when you glanced up at the sky for a second, the stars were a little blurry.
“So,” he breathed, opening the box to reveal a beautiful, slender ring, “will you marry me?”
For a second, you just stared. Partly because your brain was still catching up, partly because Minho looked so hopeful – like he’d been holding his breath for months, maybe years, waiting for this exact moment.
And then you sank down before your mind could even catch up, knees pressing against the cool wood as your hands cupped his face. “Yeah… yes,” you whispered, voice breaking into a laugh. “Of course, I’d marry you.”
His shoulders sagged with an exhale, the smile breaking across his face slow and unstoppable. He slid the ring onto your finger with hands that were slightly trembling despite his collected exterior.
You weakly added, “Pabo,” as if he could’ve really thought you wouldn’t say no to him.
But he kissed you before you could finish the word, kissing you with a passion that stole your breath. When he pulled back, his lips brushed against yours as he murmured, “Not letting your first word as my fiancée be an insult.”
You smiled, shaking your head at his teasing like you always did – but then your eyes widened a beat later as the word actually hit you.
Fiancée. You were his fiancée. You were engaged. The two of you were engaged.
Minho caught your expression instantly. His grin softened, his eyes glinting. “You just realized, didn’t you?”
Your mouth opened, then closed again, words scrambling out uselessly. “I mean—I knew, obviously, I just—”
He chuckled, thumb brushing over the new ring on your finger like he was memorizing the sight. “Unbelievable. I spend months teasing you about proposing, and when I finally do, you’re more shocked by what it meant as a consequence.”
Heat flooded your cheeks. “That’s not—okay, maybe a little.”
He leaned closer, dropping his voice slightly. “Wow. My fiancée is slow on the uptake. Good thing she’s cute.”
“Minho!” you groaned, burying your face in his shoulder to hide the stupid grin spreading across your face.
He laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to your hair, his voice low and teasing against your ear. “Better get used to it. You’re stuck with me now, jagiya.” his smile grew sly, “Or… should I start calling you yeobo soon—”
Before he could finish the word, you grabbed the collar of his jacket and kissed him, catching him mid-tease this time. He made a muffled sound against your mouth, then melted into it, his laughter humming low in his chest as he kissed you back.
-----
Later, curled back on the patio with the blanket and his head resting against yours, you murmured, “You know, I’m glad you chose to ask like this and not that time Dori started throwing up.”
He groaned. “You had to bring that up now?”
“You were kneeling, Minho. I thought that was it. My heart almost gave out—and then you had to clean up cat vomit.”
He buried his face in your shoulder with a muffled groan while you laughed, the sound echoing up towards the endless sky.
Can u do something with arranged husband chan x reader with family issues and she argues with her parents or something happens and chan comforts reader pls??💜
hello <3
i actually love reading stuff like that hehe. i'm so deep into the !idol stories, so i'm not sure but maybe? ˃ 𖥦 ˂
Lee Know discovered that your growing relationship brings new ways to kill you.
pt.2 -> Actually tying the knot
You’d think that after nearly five years of dating, you’d be used to Minho’s teasing.
But no. Not this.
It started about three weeks ago. Maybe four. At first, you thought it was a coincidence – bad luck, really. A misstep in your own wild imagination.
The first time he knelt down in front of you, you stopped breathing for full three seconds.
You were leaving a café, chatting absentmindedly, when Minho stopped mid-step. You turned to ask what was wrong, but before you could say anything, he was already crouched down in front of you and began tying your shoelace with the casual charm of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
“Tie your shoe, dummy,” he said nonchalantly, his fingers looping the laces into a cute little bow.
And maybe it was the soft golden hour glow catching his features just right, or maybe it was the fact that he was kneeling – one knee on the pavement, his gaze flicking up at you with a smirk – but your heart did a somersault.
You laughed it off. Pretended your heart wasn’t in your throat. “You scared me for a second,” you muttered.
Minho only raised a brow. “Scared you? Why?”
You didn’t answer.
-----
Since then, he’d made a habit out of it.
When his cat Doongie strutted across the room, he dropped beside the little creature to pet him conveniently close to you – his shoulder brushing your leg, face tilted upward with a suspiciously innocent grin.
You narrowed your eyes while he only blinked, infuriatingly innocent.
“What? I can’t pet my cat now?”
You turned to the side, cheeks burning. Behind you, you swore you heard him chuckle.
Or when you were cooking together and dropped a spoon? He’d duck down dramatically to grab it, pausing for a moment like he was savoring your reaction.
Or when he accidentally dropped his keys at the door? He’d take unnecessarily long to pick them up.
It was like that. Every. Single. Time.
And every time, your heart leapt. Your breath caught. Your brain whispered, Is this it? followed quickly by, Calm down, don’t be ridiculous.
You tried to play it cool, of course. Tried to scoff or roll your eyes, but the way Minho’s lips curled every time – teasing, smug – said it all.
He knew. He absolutely knew what he was doing to you.
-----
Tonight, you were curled on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on your phone while Minho fed the cats. It was quiet. Domestic. Safe. Comfortably uneventful.
Until he turned.
And knelt.
Right in front of the coffee table, facing you, pretending to clean up a stray piece of kibble.
You tensed instantly. Your fingers twitched. Your pulse thrummed in your ears.
“Minho,” you said, tone dangerously flat.
He didn’t even look up. “Hm?”
“That’s the fourth time this week.”
“What is?” he asked, still crouched.
“You know what.” You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t play dumb.”
He blinked up at you, bottom lip twitching like he was holding back a smile. “Are you accusing me of… bending my knees too much?”
You groaned. “Yes! No—yes. You’re doing this on purpose.”
He rose slowly, his eyes locked on yours, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Doing what, exactly?”
You pointed an accusatory finger. “That. Kneeling. In front of me. Repeatedly. Like it’s nothing. Like you don’t know what that does to me.”
“Hmm.” He tilted his head, mock-thoughtful as he caressed your hip with his thumb. “You mean how your eyes go wide and you look like you’re about to black out?”
You picked up a pillow and hurled it at him. He caught it midair and laughed – actually laughed, throwing his head back like he was the funniest person alive.
“You’re evil,” you muttered, cheeks warm.
Minho steped to the side, casually placing the pillow back on the couch. “You’re cute when you get flustered.”
“I hate you.”
“Mm, you love me.” He dropped a kiss to your forehead, lips lingering for a second longer than usual.
You exhaled, trying not to lean into it too much. “So you admit you’re doing it on purpose?”
“I didn’t say that,” he teased, nuzzling against your temple.
You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “You know, if you tease me too much, I might just beat you to it. See how you'd look then.”
“Beat me to what?”
You raised an eyebrow. “You know. Pop the question. Just to mess with you.”
Minho froze for half a second – a blink, a twitch of surprise. “You wouldn’t.”
You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Keep teasing and find out.”
He chuckled, amused. “You’re bluffing.”
You grinned. “Am I?”
“You are.”
“Probably.” You leaned back against the couch. “But don’t test me.”
He was still smiling as he sat beside you, arm sliding around your shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”
You turned to him. “Then why the mind games tho? Other than, you know, being a menace?” You narrowed your eyes slightly. “You know that I could just say 'no'…”
Minho scoffed, eyes narrowing offended. “That would be your deflect – I won't ask a second time.”
He paused. Something shifted in his expression.
“But,” he said, softer now, “when I do ask... I want you to know it’s real.”
“I want you to know I’ve been thinking about it,” he continued, his voice lower now, more vulnerable. “For some time, actually. Not just for fun. Not just to tease. When it’s real, I want you to know.”
You swallowed. “Minho…”
He smiled then, soft and sure. “No rush. Just… don’t be too mad if I keep doing it until then.”
You were quiet for a beat, then muttered, “Oh, I will be. You know I’m still going to have a heart attack every time?”
“I know,” he said smugly, pulling you in a hug before you could assault him. “And it’s adorable.”
I was just wondering if you could write about the members getting really shy after a kiss? It would be so cute with like, stuttering and blushing or whatever but you don't have to if you don't want!
Have a great day<3
hi, i might combine it with another idea if that works ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
Heartfelt Slip-Ups: Stray Kids’ reactions to accidental 1st ‘I love you’s
request: "[...] Could it be where you say I love you for the 1st time while leaving for work, gym or studio session & you kiss them goodbye & accidentally say I love you for the 1st time then ask to forget it lol but fluffy?"
A/N: hope you like it – sorry that the one you requested is the shortest (*_ _)人
Bang Chan (him)
The time difference had never felt so cruel.
It was late afternoon where you were, sunlight filtering lazily through your window, while on the other side of the world, in some hotel room lit only by a dim lamp and the soft blue glow of his phone, Chris was desperately fighting off sleep, but it was a losing battle.
“Babe…” you said softly through the screen, “your eyes are literally closing mid-sentence.”
“I’m not that tired,” he replied, words slurred, his cheek squished against the hotel pillow as he lay sideways, camera angled haphazardly. He blinked slowly, lids heavy. “M’fine. Just… resting my eyes while I talk to you.”
You chuckled, fondness bubbling up in your chest. “You have a concert tomorrow, Chris. You need sleep. Real sleep.”
“But I miss you,” he mumbled, voice barely audible. His gaze was soft, unfocused. “Can’t sleep without hearing you talk. It’s like… my brain knows you're far away, and it hates it.”
Your heart ached in that way it always did when you saw how much he cared. “I miss you too,” you said, voice quieter now, “but you need to rest, love. For me? You’ve done a thousand things today.”
He grumbled something incoherent, clearly not ready to let go of you, but he knew you were right.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he muttered, yawning.
“Get some real sleep, okay? And drink water when you wake up.”
“Y’know,” he started, voice even softer, “you take better care of me than I do.”
You smiled. “That’s what I’m here for.”
He lingered for a beat longer, eyes fluttering.
“I love you.”
And then click. Call ended.
You stared at the blank screen, pulse thudding.
Did he just—?
The words rang in your ears, your chest tight with sudden butterflies, your heart beating wildly against your ribs. Neither of you have said it before – not out loud. Not yet. There had been so many almosts, but he’d never actually said it.
You brought a hand to your mouth, half laughing, half gasping. The warmth spreading through you was electric and impossible to contain. You sat there for a long time, staring at the “Call Ended” screen, smile creeping wider by the second.
-----
The Next Morning, your phone buzzed.
Channie🖤: by any chance… did i carelessly say something rather special yesterday?
You stared at the message, and it made you laugh.
You: you might’ve said something small
You: like three words
You: quite important
You: started with “I”
There was a pause. Then three dots. Then nothing. Then more dots.
Channie🖤: …I SAID THAT?!
You: You did 😳
Channie🖤: WHAT!!! I DIDN’T EVEN— I THOUGHT I DREAMED THAT 😭
Channie🖤: omg omg i wanted to say it properly not like THAT
Channie🖤: was it… okay?
You smiled, typing back slowly.
You: It was perfect. I love you too, sleepyhead 💛
Another pause.
Channie🖤: 🥺 so i didn’t ruin it?
You: Nope. You made it unforgettable.
Lee Know (you)
The two of you were sprawled on the couch as a movie flickered in the background. Humming softly, he rested one arm behind his head, the other absentmindedly tracing patterns on your thigh. Your head was on his chest, heart comfortably synced with his slow, steady breaths.
You were warm. Content. Sleepy.
And in that state, words slipped from your mouth without asking your brain first.
“I love you,” you mumbled, into his shirt low and muffled.
It took you a second to even realize what you’d said. And then another half-second to panic.
Your body went rigid.
Minho hummed, face unreadable, eyes still on the movie. He hummed. Just a soft, low note, like someone vaguely acknowledging the weather forecast.
“What?” you said, eyes wide.
“Hmm?” he asked, blinking.
You stared at him, waiting for the teasing, the smirk, the jokes about you being a hopeless romantic. But nothing came. He just tugged you gently back into his side.
“You good?” he asked, voice calm.
“… yeah,” you muttered, stunned.
-----
You spent the rest of the week spiraling. He hadn’t teased you, hadn’t even acknowledged the slip. Maybe he didn’t hear? Maybe he didn’t feel the same? Or maybe it was too soon? But he hummed! Was that a “cool” hum or a “noted” hum or a “panic now” hum? You’d practically convinced yourself it was nothing and that maybe, just maybe, he had really just been too chill to notice.
Until three days later.
The two of you were in his kitchen, washing the dishes after dinner. He flicked a bit of water at your forehead and you let out a dramatic yelp.
“Lee Minho!” you shrieked. “You are so annoying!”
He smirked, tossing the towel onto the counter. “That so?”
You narrowed your eyes. “Yes. Borderline maddening.”
He leaned in a little, just enough to make your little heart beat a bit faster. “Huh,” he said, mock thoughtful. “That’s weird, ’cause last week you were saying how much you loovvee me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You remember,” he said, grin growing wide and evil. “We were all cuddled up and warm, watching that movie. And you said... what was it again…? Ah, right. ‘I love you.’”
You smacked his arm, face burning. “I knew you heard it!”
“I did,” he said smugly. “Just wanted to see how long you’d pretend it didn’t happen.”
You groaned and turned to the side. “Because you didn’t say a godamn word! What was I supposed to do?”
He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and rested his chin on your shoulder.
“I love you too,” he said, quiet now. “Just thought I’d let you suffer a little first.”
“You’re the worst.”
“And yet,” he said with a wink, “you love me.”
You slapped him again – a bit harder this time – but didn’t pull away from his arms.
Changbin (him)
You were sitting on the couch in Changbin’s studio, scrolling through your phone while he sat at his desk, fidgeting with a new beat. He was humming absentmindedly, being in his element and in a good mood.
You took a sip of water.
“I think this is my favorite track I’ve done in a while,” he said, spinning slightly in his chair to look at you. “I might actually keep this one just for myself. Play it for you when I miss you. Because, you know—”
He shrugged like it was nothing. “I love you and stuff.”
You choked.
You spat.
Water went everywhere – mostly in a graceful arc onto the floor, but also a fine mist landed directly on Changbin’s face.
He blinked. Once. Twice.
“…Did you just SPIT on me?”
“I—” You coughed, waving your hand in the air, eyes wide. “Did you just say—?”
“Oh my god,” he muttered, grabbing a tissue and wiping his cheek. “I confess my undying love and this is what I get? A mouthful of salvia to the face?”
You were still processing. “Changbin, you can’t just—casually say ‘I love you’ like that while I’m drinking!”
“I can and I did!” he said, half standing now. “What kind of reaction is ‘Water Gun’—are you Squirtle?! I bare my soul and you nearly drown me!”
You burst into laughter, half from nerves, half from disbelief.
“I’m sorry!” you gasped, still laughing. “I was just—surprised! I didn’t think you were gonna—today?! Like that?! While talking about a beat?!”
He sighed, tossing the tissue in the trash. “I thought it was romantic. Thought I was being cute.”
You rolled your eyes, though your smile was soft now, your heart catching up with the moment. “Wait, actually, though—were you serious?”
He paused. His joking demeanor faltered just a bit, his shoulders straightening, eyes darting to yours and away again. “I mean… yeah. Kind of. But also—”
And now he was fidgeting again. “It's kinda like a habit. I say it all the time to Hyunjin, you know. Like, when I bring him coffee, or when he lets me win at Mario Kart—I’ll be like, ‘Ugh, I love you, husband.’ Like that.”
You blinked. “So I’m… just the concubine?”
“No! I mean—no offense to Hyunjin, I love that man, but not like—” He groaned and flopped back into his chair, spinning to the side. “It just comes out sometimes, okay? I say it as a joke. But, that doesn’t mean it’s not real. Just because I said it like an idiot, doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it.”
Your heart clenched. Gently, you got up from the couch and walked over to his chair, placing a hand on his.
He glanced up at you with cautious eyes.
You smiled. “I think I love you too. You idiot.”
His entire face lit up like a sunrise – relief, joy, and smugness all tangled up in a grin. “So you admit it. You love me and you spat on me. That’s commitment.”
You laughed, shoving his shoulder. “Don’t make me do it again.”
“Too late,” he said, standing and wrapping his arms around you in a warm, crushing hug. “You’re mine now. Saliva and all.”
“Gross.”
“Romantic.”
“Squirtle still says no.”
“Hyunjin’s gonna be so jealous.”
You snorted. “Honestly, I’m kinda jealous he got an ‘I love you’ before I did.”
“Okay, well he didn’t water board me, so maybe he deserved it more.”
“You did not just say that—!”
Hyunjin (you)
You stood by the door, his hoodie draped over your shoulders, still warm from him. Hyunjin leaned against the frame, messy hair, sleepy eyes, and that teasing smile he always wore when he didn't want you to leave.
“Text me when you get there, okay?”
“I will." You paused, smiled up at him and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "Love you—"
You froze.
He blinked.
You blinked.
The world went silent.
“...What?” he said, eyes wide.
Your stomach dropped. Crap. “Oh my god,” you said, covering your face. “Can you just forget that I said that?”
Hyunjin stared at you, mouth slightly open, then suddenly threw his head back with a groan. “Yah! You can’t just—say it like that! And I certainly can’t ‘just forget about it’, you just told me you loved me!”
You gaped. “You—what?!”
He pointed an accusing finger at you, eyes narrowed in mock betrayal. “I had plans, okay?! Literal Pinterest board levels of planning!”
You stared, part embarrassed, part very confused. “You had… what kind of plans?”
“I was going to confess properly.” he said, crossing his arms. “Do you know how long I’ve been sitting on the perfect moment? There were candles involved. A lake. Maybe even rose petals—if I could sneak them past the guys without them mocking me for the rest of my life!”
You blinked, then bit your lip, something warm blooming quietly in your chest. Your heart melted – just a little – at the thought of him wanting to make something so small and simple feel special. The effort, the sweetness… that was so him.
“And now you go and say ‘love you’ like you’re saying ‘see ya later.’ Do you know how unfair that is?!”
You took a slow step forward, biting your lip to stop from grinning. “So… you do love me?”
He stared at you for a moment, then sighed dramatically. “Obviously. But now it’s ruined! I had a whole speech. There were metaphors.”
“Metaphors?”
“Yeah. You’ve heard me write lyrics, babe. I was gonna make you weep.”
You laughed and wrapped your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry for ruining your romantic Pinterest proposal.”
“You should be,” he grumbled, but he was already holding you back.
“But,” you whispered, resting your head against his chest, “I really do love you, you know.”
He sighed like he was giving in, but you felt his lips press gently to the top of your head. “Fine. But I’m still giving the speech.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“And I want tears. Real ones.”
You tilted your head back, eyes sparkling. “I’ll bring tissues.”
Han (him)
The train was minutes from leaving, the soft chime echoing over the station speakers as people bustled past. You turned to Han, wrapping your arms around his hoodie-clad frame. His hair was a mess, tousled in all directions like he’d just rolled out of bed, and his eyes were wide, a little glassy with sleep.
“I’ll text you when I get there,” you said, brushing your lips against his cheek.
But he surprised you by pulling his mask down and turning his head last-second to catch your mouth with his instead – clumsy, soft, but real.
The kiss was brief, barely a few seconds, but it left his ears glowing pink and your stomach tangled in butterflies. As you pulled back, you smiled and whispered, “Bye.”
And that’s when he blurted it out.
“I love you.”
The silence between you stretched in the shape of your widened eyes. His mouth opened – then closed – then opened again in horror.
Then—
“No—wait! I didn’t mean—I mean I did mean I did, but not like that, but also totally like that—AHH—” Han buried his face in his hands. “I knew I should’ve just waved. Who kisses and thinks clearly?!”
“You… love me?” you echoed, voice barely a whisper, like testing the shape of the words on your tongue.
He peeked at you through his fingers, sheepish and red. “I mean, I’ve thought it, like, obviously—I mean—look at you! But I didn’t mean to say it! Not now! Not—like—a drive-by love confession?!”
You blinked, then started laughing – soft at first, then breathless. He groaned and covered his face with his hands.
“Stop laughing, I’m spiraling.”
“No,” you said between giggles, stepping closer to pry his fingers off his face. “It’s just... Hannie?”
You looked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. “You write me songs. You’ve already said those words in so many ways without actually saying them.”
He froze.
“And... I love you too. Just so you don’t spiral forever.”
There was a beat of stunned silence. Then his expression cracked into the brightest, most ridiculous smile you’d ever seen on him.
“Wait—Wait! You—oh my god—no, wait. Don’t get on the train! We need to talk about this for 45 more minutes!”
You laughed again, already walking backwards toward the platform and slowly letting go of his hands.
“Facetime me later, you drama king,” you called.
“Just so you know, I’m writing a ballad about this!” he shouted back.
Of course he was. And you were so looking forward to hearing it.
Felix (you)
You were standing at his doorstep, the moment to say goodbye felt heavier than usual.
He gave you a small smile, his eyes flickering with a mix of nervousness and warmth. “I hope you got home safe last time.”
You smiled back, feeling a flutter in your chest. “Yeah, I did. Thanks to you.”
He hesitated, then whispered, “I… um, I had a really good time today.”
You nodded, your voice soft as you said goodbye, “Me too… I love you.”
The words escaped before you could stop them, and immediately your face flushed hot with embarrassment. You looked down, suddenly overwhelmed, and before Felix could say anything, you turned on your heel and practically ran down the stairs, your heart racing. “Bye!”
Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.
You made it to the bottom step before fumbling with your phone, hands trembling with anxiety. Your cheeks were on fire and you felt like you were about to cry. You just told Felix you loved him. Loudly. Casually. Like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t going to change everything.
Your phone buzzed.
Lix🐥: Did you mean that? 😳
Your hands shook as you typed back.
You: No! I didn’t say anything! I take it back!
Lix🐥: You can’t just take something like that back…
You bit your lip, trying to keep your cool.
You: I’m just not ready for this.
He responded after a few seconds.
Lix🐥: Me neither but…well, I kinda feel the same way… 😶😶
You: Wait, what?
Lix🐥: Yeah. I didn’t want to say it first ‘cause I was nervous. But I do… love you.
Your breath hitched and you let out a nervous chuckle.
You: I can’t believe that we’re doing this over text.
Lix🐥: You could also just come back up here, you know 🫢
Your heart thudded in your ears.
You stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. But nothing you could say felt big enough for what was happening. So instead, you just stared at the blinking cursor.
You could also just come back up, you know.
You glanced up the staircase.
For a second, your brain screamed every excuse—it’s too soon, you’re being impulsive, what if this ruins things, what if you misunderstood him, what if, what if—
Then, before you could fully talk yourself out of it, your feet were moving – one step, two, three steps – faster until you were back at the top of the stairs, standing outside his door again, completely breathless.
You raised your hand to knock, but before you could, the door creaked open.
Felix stood there, hair slightly messy like he’d run his fingers through it too many times, his expression caught somewhere between terrified and radiant. His cheeks were just as red as yours felt.
Neither of you said anything at first.
Then he laughed – soft, breathless, disbelieving.
“I thought you might run the other way,” he said, voice low.
“I almost did,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I kinda meant it.”
His smile was slow, tentative, but real. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “Yeah.”
Without another word, he stepped forward, arms slipping around you gently, like he didn’t want to scare you away. But you melted into it, your hands gripping the back of his shirt.
The hug lingered – warm and quiet and absolutely terrifying in the best way.
You pulled back just slightly to look at him. “So… what now?”
He grinned, the nervous kind that made your heart do backflips. “Now we start whatever this is. Together.”
Seungmin (him)
Seungmin was unusually quiet today as you strolled through the park – not in a brooding way, more in a content, peaceful kind of silence. The kind of quiet that made you feel safe. His fingers brushed yours in lazy circles as he held your hand, and every now and then, he’d bump your shoulder playfully.
You were mid-rant about the terrible instant coffee you tried earlier, flailing your arms to illustrate your suffering, when he chuckled and said it.
Not loudly. Not even on purpose, it seemed.
“You're such an idiot, I love you.”
You froze. Mid-step, mid-sentence, eyes widening like you’d seen a ghost.
His steps slowed just half a second. A blink.
You watched his eyes widen for a split second as wekk, like even he hadn’t realized what just slipped out of his mouth. But instead of acknowledging it, he cleared his throat, casually looked up at the trees and said,
“Did you see that squirrel just now? Super chubby.”
…Squirrel?
He nodded solemnly, like this was the most pressing matter of the moment. “Definitely been stealing picnic food.”
You gaped at him. Not because of the squirrel. Because of him.
He wasn’t looking at you. He was doing everything except look at you. Examining the sky. Adjusting his cap. Even tugging his hoodie sleeve over his hand to ‘itch his wrist,’ which he never did.
Meanwhile, internally, he was combusting.
‘You IDIOT. It’s too early. Or is it? Did she hear it? Of course she did. She’s not even breathing. Oh god, she’s not breathing. Is she okay? What if she thinks I didn’t mean it—’
“Seungmin,” you finally croaked.
He turned to you, brows raised so innocently it was almost insulting. “Hmm?”
You opened your mouth, closed it. Your heart was racing, your cheeks hot. You were still trying to make sure you weren’t dreaming.
“You—you just—”
“I what?” he asked way too quickly.
“…The squirrel?”
He gave you a serious nod. “Yeah. Surprisingly round.”
You stared at each other.
And then, you burst out laughing. You couldn't help it. He looked so panicked behind the deadpan act, like he was hanging on by a thread and trying so hard not to make it worse. Your laughter only seemed to make him squirm more, but then – you saw the tiniest smile creep up on his lips. Still pretending nothing happened. Still pretending his heart wasn’t absolutely racing.
You leaned into his shoulder, trying to steady your breathing. “I think the squirrel’s in love with you,” you teased.
He blinked. Then looked away again, a small huff of laughter escaping him. “…That’s crazy,” he muttered. “It didn’t even get me coffee.”
You didn’t say ‘I love you too’. Not yet. But your hand squeezed his tighter.
And maybe that was enough – for now.
Inside, he was still freaking out. But outside, he was smiling.
I.N (you)
“I’ll see you tonight, right?” you said, fingers smoothing the collar of his hoodie out of reflex. You didn’t even think about it anymore. It was just something your hands did.
He caught your wrist, his fingers warm around yours. “Text me when you get there. And when you get off.”
“You say that every time,” you said, trying to make it light. Like it didn’t always twist something in your chest.
“And you never do,” he grinned, pulling you closer.
You kissed him before your nerves stoped you. Just a quick thing. Meant to be harmless. But when you pulled back, your lips still brushing his—
“I love you,” you murmured against his lips.
You didn’t mean to. Not like that. Not now. The words just slipped through before the gate could shut.
Everything stopped. Him. You. The air. Time.
Your eyes widened, the weight of what you’d said crashing into your chest like a wave. You stepped back instinctively, hand flying to your mouth like you could shove the words back in.
“I—I didn’t mean to say that,” you stammered, cheeks flaming. “Forget I said that! Oh my god.”
Jeongin blinked, then swallowed.
“You didn’t... mean it?” His voice was quiet. Not teasing this time. Just uncertain.
You shook your head too quickly. “No! I mean — I don’t know. It just slipped out. I wasn’t thinking. It’s complicated, right?” You laughed nervously, and the sound felt brittle. “I didn’t mean to make things weird.”
He looked down, then ran a hand through his hair, clearly thrown. “Okay. Yeah. No, I get it. Totally.”
A pause stretched between you, taut and trembling.
“It’s not that it’s weird,” he said finally. “It’s just… new.”
You swallowed hard, your heartbeat loud in your ears. “I just don't want to scare you off. Or pressure you. I don’t even know if I’m ready for... that. Saying those words like they’re simple.”
“Neither am I,” he said, voice low. “But maybe we don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Maybe we just... be in this.”
You gave a shaky laugh. “I’m two seconds away from jumping out the window, by the way.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’d prefer you used the door. Less dramatic. Less broken bones.”
You cracked a smile, despite the knot in your stomach. He was still here. That meant something. “Seriously though. That was embarrassing.”
“Yeah,” he said, and his grin softened, “but I’m kind of glad you said it.”
You looked up at him, startled. “You are?”
He nodded, and this time, there was something certain behind it. “Yeah. Even if we don’t know what to do with it yet.”
For a moment, the noise of the city faded. It was just the two of you, caught in the warm glow of something unspoken – something almost said.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Not relief, exactly. Just... less panic.
“Okay,” he whispered. “But tonight – text me when you get there. And when you get off.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile didn’t wobble this time. “Yeah, yeah. I will just.. not sleep tonight, I guess.”
Hi! I have a request & im not sure if you're taking them or if its ot8 but if you are a specific member would be han. or all whichever you decide to do. ☺️. Could it be where you say I love you for the 1st time while leaving for work, gym or studio session & you kiss them goodbye & accidentally say I love you for the 1st time then ask to forget it lol but fluffy?
Thank you so much.
love this but will probably modify it for some of the members ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა
You didn’t expect the soft summer rain to complement your first vacation as a couple. (A/N: you surely know those -> X)
The engine hummed softly beneath your fingertips, the highway unfurling ahead of you like a silver ribbon winding through the quiet countryside. You stole a glance at Seungmin, seated in the passenger seat, hood pulled up and a hand curled under his chin as he looked out the window. His eyes were calm and thoughtful, following the blur of green and low, cloudy skies.
It was your first holiday together – just the two of you. A small cabin, tucked away about four hours from Seoul, rented off a cute Airbnb listing that Seungmin had found and sent to you with a message that just said:
“Too cheesy? Or just cheesy enough?”
You’d replied with a heart emoji and booked it before either of you could change your mind.
Seungmin shifted in his seat, glancing at you. “You sure you don’t want to switch soon?”
You shook your head with a small smile. “I like driving. And you’d just fall asleep behind the wheel.”
“I would not,” he said, but his grin betrayed him. “Okay, maybe I would. But I’m great company.”
“You’ve been silent for 40 minutes.”
“I’m providing comforting presence,” he countered, sitting up straighter and stretching. “But seriously, this is nice.”
It was. The air was easy between you – occasional conversation, music low in the background, and the unspoken comfort of being together with nowhere urgent to be.
By the time you arrived, the sun was playing peekaboo through the clouds, casting soft light over the wooden cabin. Nestled between gentle green hills, it looked like something out of a Ghibli movie – wooden beams, a little porch, surrounded by early summer flowers.
You stepped out of the car and stretched, breathing in the mossy air. The quiet was heavier here, soft in a way that made your shoulders drop a little. Seungmin opened the trunk but paused to take it in too, his eyes following the lazy sway of tall grasses on the hill.
A couple of hours in, the rain began. Not a storm, not a dramatic downpour – just that soft, steady June kind of pattering against the roof and windows. The kind that makes the world feel wrapped in cotton, damp and close but not unpleasant. You both stood at the window for a moment, watching it wash over the trees and the little patio outside.
“Well, so much for our hike,” Seungmin said, holding two mugs of hot coffee and handing one to you.
You shrugged and smiled over the rim of your mug, the steam warming your face as you watched a waterdrop slide down the glas. “It’s kind of nice, though.”
Later, you played music from a speaker, low and lazy, a half-read book in your lap and a small stack of board games pulled from the cabin’s shelf on the coffee table. Seungmin insisted on playing a game that he swore he remembered how to play. It turned out he didn’t. Instead, he made up the rules halfway through, and you called him out for it, but he just grinned like he knew you’d let him win anyway.
When the rain slowed to a mist, early in the afternoon, you both ventured outside. The world was painted in deeper greens, the leaves still dripping, the sky a pale gray above. The air smelled of petrichor and damp earth, with that strange, clean scent that only comes after summer rain.
You stepped carefully over a puddle to not dreanch your sneakers, holding Seungmin’s hand. “On the bright side, at least my allergies are taking the day off. Thank you, rain.”
He chuckled, feeling the pull as you stepped over the puddle. “You’re glowing with less congestion. It’s very attractive.”
“Wow. You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”
“I try.”
Seungmin chuckled as he followed you. As you walked beneath a low-hanging branch, a single droplet slipped from a leaf and landed squarely on Seungmin’s head. He blinked in surprise, water trickling down his forehead. “Maybe we should have actually taken the umbrella with us."
“Ah, city boy can’t handle a little rain, huh?” you teased with a smirk, reaching over to shake the clear drop off his hair.
He just smiled, looking at you a little longer than necessary. There was something in the way your cheeks flushed in the cool air, in the way you skipped over puddles and the fact that your hair slightly curled because of the damp air.
He liked this version of you – freer, softer. A little wild in the rain-damp woods.
You walked in silence for a while after that, just the two of you and the quiet hush of the world post-rain. The occasional bird call and the distant sound of water dripping from leaves.
