Stray Kids Fluffy Oneshots

by Bokkariberry

Summary:

Just some fluffy Stray kids oneshots from my Wattpad ｡𐔌՞. .՞𐦯⋆.
Stray kids x reader!

⋆˚꩜｡
1. Rainy days and you (Bangchan/reader)
2. Quiet confessions (minho/reader)
3. Soup (changbin/reader)
4. Sleeping next to you (hyunjin/reader)
5. Love in full bloom (Jisung/reader)
6. Sweet like this (felix/reader)
7. Mine (seungmin/reader)
8. Accidentally yours (Jeongin/reader)
9. Slow mornings (Bangchan/reader)
10. Soft like this (Minho/reader)
11. Tulips (changbin/reader)
12. Star dusted (hyunjin/reader)
13. The one I sing for (Jisung/reader)
14. Chuseok/Thanksgiving (ot8/reader)
15. Sunkissed (felix /reader)
16. A+ (seungmin/reader)
17. Behind the spotlight (Jeongin/reader)
18. Snowed in (ot8/reader)
19. Our warmest night (ot8/reader)

Chapter 1: Rainy days and you

Summary:

Bangchan x reader!
Rainy day scenario

The soft patter of rain against the windows was the only sound filling your apartment. Outside, the world was gray and blurred, but inside, everything felt warm.

Chan was curled up on the couch with you, one arm draped over your shoulder, the other holding a mug of tea that had long gone lukewarm. Your legs were tangled beneath the blanket that covered you both, and neither of you had the energy—or desire—to move.

"It's kind of nice," you murmured, your cheek resting against his shoulder. "The rain."

Chan let out a soft hum, his voice raspier than usual from the lazy afternoon. "Yeah. It's peaceful. Kinda forces the world to slow down."

You smiled against him. That was something you loved about him—the way he noticed the little things, the way he found calm in the chaos.

A faint crack of thunder rolled in the distance, and you instinctively pulled the blanket higher up to your chin. Chan noticed, shifting slightly so he could wrap his arm around you tighter.

"Cold?" he asked, gently pressing his lips to your temple.

"A little," you admitted. "But mostly just... cozy."

You looked up at him, and there was that small, soft smile of his—the one he reserved for quiet moments like this.

"Good," he said. "Because I don't plan on moving anytime soon."

You laughed softly, fingers lazily tracing patterns along his forearm beneath the blanket. "Not even to reheat your tea?"

He raised an eyebrow dramatically. "Not even to save the maknaes from a fire. This is our rainy day."

You snorted. "I think the members would have something to say about that."

"They'll live," he grinned, then leaned in to bump his nose gently against yours.

Outside, the rain only fell harder, washing the city in silver. But inside, wrapped in the warmth of each other, time seemed to slow. Chan let his head rest on top of yours, chestnut eyes fluttering closed.

"I like this," he whispered. "Just us. Nothing else."

You nodded, already feeling sleep tug at your limbs. "Me too."

The storm could rage all it wanted outside—but in that little pocket of quiet, wrapped in your favorite blanket and each other's arms, everything felt calm. Safe. Like home.

And Chan? Chan was home.

Chapter 2: Quiet Confessions

Summary:

Minho x reader !

It started with a movie.

Well, more like half a movie.

You'd been hanging out at Minho's place like usual, lazily flipping through streaming options while half-heartedly arguing over what to watch. The sun had dipped below the horizon hours ago, casting the apartment in a warm, golden glow that slowly faded into the soft hues of night. His cats had already claimed their spots — Soonie curled up on the windowsill, Doongie tucked under the table, and Dori stretched long on the armrest beside you.

"Let's just pick something already," Minho groaned, resting his head dramatically against the back of the couch. "At this rate, we'll spend more time deciding than watching."

You rolled your eyes, flicking his knee with your toe. "You're the one who vetoed the last five."

"Because you were gonna put on that sad documentary about sea turtles again."

"It was informative!"

"It made you cry for an hour."

"...They're endangered, Minho."

He gave you a look, one eyebrow raised, and you couldn't help but laugh.

Eventually, the two of you settled on something light — some random comfort show you both knew too well, the kind that required zero brainpower and allowed for lazy commentary and half-hearted jokes. Minho stretched, letting out a yawn, then tossed a throw blanket over both of you like it was second nature.

"You're warm," he mumbled, nudging your shoulder with his.

"You're squishing me," you shot back, though you didn't move an inch. Neither did he.

The show droned on in the background, but your eyes were already fluttering. It had been a long week — classes, work, late-night calls with Minho ranting about dance practice or arguing with Jeongin about who stole his hoodie. Sitting here, shoulder to shoulder under the blanket, with the soft sounds of the TV and Minho's steady breathing beside you... it was cozy. Dangerously cozy.

The last thing you remembered was Minho mumbling something about the plot not making sense, and you replying with a half-asleep, "Mhm."

You woke up to the sound of a cat purring somewhere nearby.

For a moment, you didn't move — too warm, too comfortable, too... content.

Then you became aware of a soft heartbeat under your ear.

You freeze.

Your eyes blinked open slowly. You were nestled against Minho's chest, one arm flopped across his middle. His hand was resting lightly on your back, and his chin was tilted down, resting against the top of your head. He was still asleep.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slow rhythm of his breathing. Up close, he looked... peaceful. His usual sharp features softened, lips slightly parted, eyelashes fluttering just barely with every breath. You'd seen Minho in all kinds of moods — annoyed, dramatic, playful, chaotic — but this version of him? Soft and unguarded?

It made your heart do a weird little flip.

You carefully tried to move your hand, but Minho stirred. You froze.

"...You awake?" he mumbled, voice gravelly with sleep.

"Uh... yeah," you whispered. "I think we fell asleep."

"Mmm," he hummed, not moving. "This couch is too comfy."

You laughed under your breath, feeling it rumble through his chest. "You mean I'm too comfy."

He finally cracked one eye open, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. "Maybe."

You rolled your eyes, but didn't move away. Neither did he.

A beat of silence passed. Then another.

"...So," you said quietly, eyes still on his hoodie string near your face, "this isn't weird, right?"

Minho's voice was quiet, but steady. "Your making it weird."

You smiled at that. Classic Minho response.

Still, something about the moment felt different. Not in a bad way — in a warm, confusing, "what if we're more than just best friends" kind of way.

"...We should probably get up," you said, though you made no effort to move.

Minho's eyes were fully open now, watching you carefully. "Probably."

But neither of you did.

Instead, his thumb brushed softly against your back in a slow, absent-minded circle.

You didn't say anything.

You didn't need to.

Because maybe it was just a nap.

Or maybe it was something quietly waiting to be more.

Notes:

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

Thank u sm for reading! Tysm for any kudos and pls leave comments - Please also follow me on wattpad!

Account: Armyxstayyy (username: Emma.a)

Chapter 3: Soup

Summary:

Changbin x reader
A bit longer this time!

You had no idea how bad you looked until Changbin walked through the door and froze.

"Baby?" he said, voice full of concern as he dropped his gym bag and kicked off his shoes faster than you'd ever seen him move. "Why didn't you tell me you were dying?"

You were not dying. You were just sick. Very, very grossly sick.

Wrapped in three mismatched blankets, nose red from tissues, and hair doing its own thing, you looked up from the couch with a groan. "Because I knew you'd overreact like this."

"I'm not overreacting," Changbin huffed, immediately kneeling beside you to feel your forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up."

"I'm fine—"

"Nope. Not even gonna let you finish that lie," he said, standing and already pulling out his phone. "I'm ordering soup. The one from that place you like. The clear one with the magic broth."

You blinked at him, an eyebrow raised in confusion. "You remembered that?"

"Of course I did," he said with a scoff, walking into the kitchen like he owned the place — which, he kind of did by now, considering how often he stayed over. "You said it's the only soup that doesn't make you feel like trash when you're sick. I listen."

"Well that's a first." You reply back, trying to lighten up the situation. Thought you couldn't help the tiny smile that tugged at your lips, even through your congestion.

Within ten minutes, Changbin had transformed into full nurse mode. Blanket tucked better? Check. Water bottle refilled? Check. Favorite show queued up with minimal effort on your part? Check. He even went digging through your cabinets to find the weird herbal tea your mom swore by.

"Binnie, you don't have to do all this," you said weakly as he plopped down beside you with the tea and a fresh box of tissues.

"I want to," he said firmly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and gently guiding your head onto his chest. "Let me take care of you."

You melted into him — both because you were exhausted, and because he smelled like bergamot, comfort and your favorite human being.

There was a sweet, beat of silence.

Then, softly: "You hate being sick, huh?"

"I hate feeling useless," you mumbled into his hoodie.

"You're not useless. You're just human." He kissed the top of your head. "Even superheroes get the flu."

You sniffled. "Do they also turn into swamp goblins?"

He laughed — a real, warm, chest-shaking laugh that made you feel 10% better just from the sound. "Yes. But only the cute ones."

"Liar."

"Maybe," he teased, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "But you're my cute swamp goblin, so it's fine."

You swatted him weakly, which only made him grin wider.

The soup arrived not long after, and Changbin set you up like royalty — tray on your lap, tissues within reach, and his hand steadying the bowl whenever your grip wobbled.

He didn't even flinch when you sneezed mid-bite and nearly dropped your spoon.

"You're disgusting," you mumbled with a cough.

"And yet here I am, completely in love," he replied without missing a beat.

That shut you up for a second.

You peeked up at him through bleary eyes, and despite how awful you felt — throat raw, head heavy, nose definitely not cute — his gaze was soft and full of adoration. No hesitation. No judgment. Just Changbin, being Changbin.

"I'm sorry you have to see me like this," you said quietly.

He frowned. "You don't have to apologize for being human, baby. I'd take care of you like this a hundred times over. You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?"

You nodded.

"Then stop worrying." He kissed your temple, warm and lingering. "Besides... I think you're cute when you're all pouty and bundled up like a burrito."

"I'll remember this when you catch it from me."

"You think I didn't plan to get sick?" he grinned. "Free excuse to stay in bed and cuddle you for three days? Worth it."

You laughed — which turned into a coughing fit — and he was immediately back to fussing, holding your water, rubbing your back, and muttering soothing things under his breath.

Eventually, you drifted off again, head tucked under his chin, your breathing slow and heavy as the show played in the background.

Changbin didn't move. Not for hours.

He just held you close, occasionally adjusting your blanket, and whispering things like, "I've got you," and "Get some rest, love."

And in your feverish, hazy state, there was one thing you were absolutely sure of:

Being sick sucked.

But being sick with Changbin?

Almost worth it.

Chapter 4: Sleeping Next to You

Summary:

Hyunjin x reader!
Kinda cringe lmao

The rain pattered gently against the windows, a quiet lullaby that wrapped the room in peace. Your apartment was dimly lit, warm with the soft glow of fairy lights. Hyunjin stood in the doorway to your bedroom, dramatically clutching a throw pillow to his chest like he was in a Shakespearean tragedy.

"You mean to tell me..." he said, eyes wide, voice full of disbelief, "that we've been dating for seven months, seven, and this is the first time we're sleeping in the same bed?"

You blinked, halfway through brushing your teeth, toothbrush dangling from your mouth.

"We've been busy, Jinnie," you mumbled around the foam. "Schedules, comebacks, your weird obsession with your skincare routine..."

"That's not weird, it's essential," he huffed, flopping dramatically onto the bed like a wilted flower. "I just—I thought this moment would come with fireworks. Or a string quartet. Or at least, like, rose petals."

You rolled your eyes, spitting into the sink and wiping your mouth. "Hyunjin, it's just sleeping. It's not that deep."

He gasped like you'd insulted art itself. "Just sleeping? Just sleeping? This is monumental. Historic. This is the merging of two night routines into one sacred space. What if I sleep talk? What if I drool? What if you find out I steal blankets?!"

You walked over to the bed and crawled in beside him, poking his cheek. "I already know you steal blankets. You do it when we nap."

He paused, blinked, then pouted. "Okay, fine. But I do drool. You've been warned."

You giggled, pulling the covers over both of you. "I'll survive."

Hyunjin sighed dramatically again, then turned to face you, his eyes suddenly soft and shy, a contrast to his usual theatrics. "I just... I guess I've been looking forward to this. To falling asleep next to you. It feels really... safe."

Your heart melted a little.

"I've been looking forward to it too," you whispered, brushing his hair back gently. "You're here now. So just relax."

He nodded, nestling closer until your foreheads touched. He smelled like rose and that fancy serum he always swore by. One of his arms draped over your waist, the other tangled with your fingers.

Silence settled around you both, comfortable and sweet.

"...If I kick you in my sleep, it's not personal," he mumbled, already halfway to dreaming.

You smiled.

"Same to you, drama king."

Chapter 5: Love in Full Bloom

Summary:

Jisung x reader!
This one’s cute - prob one of my fave chapters <3

The night air was warm and buzzing with excitement, the faint scent of summer and food trucks drifting lazily through the park. You and Jisung sat on a pink, plaid blanket, nestled between other couples and families all waiting for the fireworks to begin.

Jisung was practically vibrating with excitement. His eyes darted to the sky every few seconds, like the fireworks might sneak up on him early.

"Do you think they'll have the sparkly ones that rain down like a waterfall?" he asked, adjusting his hoodie around your shoulders. He had insisted you wear it, even though he was the one shivering half an hour ago.

You chuckled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "You ask that every year."

"Because they're the best ones!" he whined, pouting. "That, and the big ones that go BOOM and shake your soul a little."

"You're so dramatic."

"And you love it," he grinned, eyes crinkling in that way that always made your heart skip. "C'mon, admit it."

"I do," you said softly, fingers intertwining with his.

Jisung smiled, and for a moment, the world slowed down.

He glanced at you, eyes reflecting the warm lights strung in the trees around the park. "You know... being here with you like this? Feels like a dream I didn't even know I had."

Your breath caught just a little.

You were used to Jisung's chaotic energy, his relentless jokes and exaggerated impressions—but moments like this? When he got soft and sincere? They hit differently. They stuck to your heart like warm honey.

Before you could reply, the first firework shot into the sky with a sharp whistle, bursting into a shower of gold.

"Ooooh—there it is!" Jisung gasped, tugging you closer like a kid on Christmas morning. "Okay, that one gets a solid 9.5."

"You're rating them now?"

"Yes. Obviously."

You laughed, head tilted back to watch the colorful bursts light up the sky. Red, blue, pink, green—they bloomed like flowers in fast-forward, each one mirrored in Jisung's wide, amazed eyes.

He snuck glances at you between the explosions, a boxy smile spreading every time your face lit up with color. He couldn't help it—you were more beautiful than anything in the sky.

Another firework exploded, this time in the shape of a heart. Jisung gasped.

"Oh my god. They know," he whispered dramatically. "They're watching us. The government ships us."

You elbowed him, laughing.

As the grand finale began, the sky erupted in a symphony of light and sound. Jisung tugged you into his arms, your back against his chest, both of you staring up, breathless.

"Best night ever," he whispered, lips brushing your hair.

You smiled, lacing your fingers through his again.

"Agreed. Especially the part where I get to steal your hoodie and you can't say anything about it."

Jisung groaned. "I knew this was a trap."

You giggled. "But I'm your trap."

He laughed, hugging you tighter. "Yeah... and you're my favorite one."

Chapter 6: Sweet Like This

Summary:

Felix x reader!
Baking together

Your kitchen smelled like cocoa and chaos.

A thin dusting of flour coated the counter, and Felix stood at your side with a wooden spoon in one hand and brownie batter on his cheek—unaware, of course. His apron, which read "Kiss the Chef" (a joke gift from Changbin and Minho, no doubt), was already smudged with chocolate.

"Wait—wait," Felix said suddenly, peering over the bowl like a detective. "Did we already add the vanilla?"

You squinted at the measuring spoons. "...I think so?"

Felix gasped. "If we double it by accident, this could either be amazing or illegal."

You burst into laughter. "Felix, it's vanilla extract, not plutonium."

He grinned, freckles dancing across his face like stars as he leaned closer, lowering his voice into a faux-serious whisper. "Still. High baking stakes. People have gone to jail for less."

"You're ridiculous," you said, taking the spoon from his hand and giving the batter a stir.

Felix rested his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapping loosely around your waist from behind. His warmth was immediate—familiar and comforting, like a warm summer day.

"You smell like chocolate and cinnamon," he murmured.

"You smell like trouble," you teased, tilting your head to nudge his.

He chuckled, then gave your cheek a light kiss. "Then we're a perfect mix."

You smiled, turning slightly to face him, only to laugh when you saw the smear of batter on his face.

"You've got a little something..." you said, wiping it with your thumb.

"Where?" he leaned in. "Here? Is it gone?"

"Nope, still there," you giggled. "Wait, hold still—"

But before you could clean him up, Felix dabbed a bit of batter onto your nose.

"Oh my god—Lee Felix!"

"That's for calling me 'trouble'!"

You chased him around the kitchen with a spatula for a solid 30 seconds before he finally surrendered, laughing so hard he had to lean against the fridge.

"Okay, okay, truce!" he wheezed.

You crossed your arms, trying to look stern, but you were smiling too much to pull it off. "Only if you promise to let me lick the spoon."

Felix stepped closer, his voice dipping into a soft, honeyed tone. "You can have the spoon... if I get a kiss."

You raised an eyebrow. "One kiss for one spoon? Seems a little unfair."

"Fine," he whispered, brushing your hair behind your ear. "Make it two."

You leaned up and kissed him—slow, sweet, and a little chocolatey. His hand found your back, warm and gentle.

Afterward, he smiled against your lips. "Best deal I've ever made."

The oven beeped.

You both turned to the tray, and Felix gasped like it was the most exciting thing he'd ever seen. "Moment of truth!"

As you slid the brownies in, he stood beside you, bumping his hip against yours.

"I hope they're as sweet as you," he said.

You rolled your eyes. "Cheesy."

He grinned. "And you love it."

You did.

Chapter 7: Mine

Summary:

Seungmin x reader!
This isn’t my best work but I hope u enjoy anyways

It started with the jacket.

You were walking together in the late evening, city lights blinking like stars around your feet. The air had turned cooler than expected, and you instinctively hugged your arms close, trying to keep warm.

You hadn't even said anything—hadn't shivered, hadn't complained. But Seungmin noticed.

He always did.

Without a word, he stopped walking, shrugged off his jacket, and tossed it over your shoulders like it was second nature.

"Seungmin—"

"You're cold," he said simply, tugging it tighter around you. "Don't argue."

You smiled softly, pulling the fabric close. It smelled like laundry detergent and him — a familiar kind of comfort.

He started walking again, hands now tucked into his hoodie pocket, like it was no big deal.

But you saw the way his ears turned red.

Later that night, you were at a cozy little café, sharing a slice of cake and sipping warm drinks in the corner booth. You were mid-laugh at one of his sarcastic comments when a guy passing by did a double take and stared a second too long.

It wasn't anything serious—just a look. But Seungmin noticed.

He always did.

The shift was subtle. He leaned in just a little closer, resting his arm behind you along the booth, eyes flickering briefly toward the guy before returning to you with a faint smile.

"You have something on your face," he murmured, thumb brushing gently at the corner of your mouth. His eyes stayed on yours, gaze soft but smug.

"There," he added, casually. "Mine."

You choked on your drink, raising your eyebrow. "Did you just say 'mine' like some possessive dog?"

He smirked. "You said it, not me."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You're so obvious sometimes."

He raised an eyebrow. "And yet... effective."

You bumped your shoulder into his. "You're ridiculous."

Seungmin didn't reply. He just reached under the table and took your hand, lacing your fingers with his in that quiet, calm way he always did — no big declarations, no dramatics. Just simple and sure.

On the way home, he walked on the side closest to the road, nudging you to the inside of the sidewalk when you drifted too close to the curb.

"Do you even know you do that?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"Do what?"

"The protective boyfriend things. Like... the jacket. The 'mine' moment. The sidewalk shuffle."

He looked down at you, lips twitching with a half-smile.

"I know," he said, voice low and soft. "I just don't think I need to make a big deal out of taking care of you."

You blinked. Your heart did a stupid little somersault.

"...You're seriously going to make me fall even harder for you, huh?"

He shrugged, looking pleased with himself. "Good."

Then, just to seal it, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"Don't worry," he said as you reached your door. "I've got you. Always."

Chapter 8: Accidentally Yours

Summary:

Jeongin x reader!
Fake dating? Or close friends to lovers

You weren't even sure how it started.

Maybe it was when that one annoying guy in your class wouldn't take a hint, and Jeongin—ever the effortlessly sweet best friend—threw an arm around your shoulder and said, "They're actually taken. Sorry, man."

Or maybe it was when Chan overheard and asked, eyebrow raised, "Wait, you two are dating now?"

And Jeongin, without missing a beat, said, "Yeah. We are."

You didn't correct him. And neither did he.

It was supposed to be temporary.

Just a tiny white lie to get people to stop teasing you both about being "just friends." A week, tops. But suddenly, you were attending movie nights with the rest of Jeongin's group, curled up into Jeongin's side, sharing snacks, and pretending not to notice the way your heartbeat skipped every time his hand brushed yours.

At first, it was easy. It was just Jeongin. Your best friend. The same guy who once put hot sauce in your coffee as a prank. The one who sang high-key in the car and stole your bread without asking.

But somewhere between the fake hand-holding and the not-so-fake smiles, it got harder to tell the difference between pretending and wanting.

"Hey," Jeongin said one afternoon, nudging your side with a bag of chips, "you good?"

You nodded, distracted, your phone full of texts from your friends asking how serious the relationship was. "Just tired. Brain's full."

"Of all the love you're feeling for your incredibly handsome fake boyfriend?" he teased, grinning.

You snorted. "Yes, it's overwhelming, honestly."

He wiggled his brows. "I am a lot to handle."

But then—he looked at you. Really looked. His smile softened, and his voice dropped a little.

"...Seriously though. This hasn't gotten weird, has it?"

You looked up, heart thudding at the concern in his eyes. "No. Not weird."

He hesitated, fingers tightening around the chip bag. "Because if it ever does—if you ever want to stop—I'm okay with that. I just... don't want to mess things up."

There it was—that stupid fluttery feeling again.

You shook your head, whispering, "You haven't messed anything up."

He stared at you for a second too long, like he wanted to say something else. But he didn't. Instead, he scooted closer and opened the chips.

"Cool. Then let's keep dating," he said with a wink, like it was a game.

But it didn't feel like a game anymore.

Not when he waited outside your class with your favorite drink.
Not when he held your hand a little longer than necessary.
Not when you caught him watching you like he already knew.

The moment it shifted for real was quiet.

You were lying on his couch, a rom-com playing in the background, heads resting close on the same pillow. Your eyes met during a soft moment in the film—two characters sharing their first kiss after a long "fake" relationship.

You laughed under your breath. "They always fall in love in these stories."

Jeongin turned toward you slightly. "Yeah... they do."

Silence.

Then, softly: "Do you think we're doing that, too?"

You blinked. "Doing what?"

He smiled, shy but real. "Falling."

Your heart nearly stopped.

"...Are you?"

Jeongin reached for your hand, fingers lacing with yours naturally.

"I think I already did."

You didn't answer right away—not with words. Just a smile. Just a kiss, gentle and certain, like something you'd both been building toward without realizing.

And from that moment on, it wasn't fake.

Not even a little.

Chapter 9: Slow mornings

Summary:

Another Bangchan x reader!!
This one was with help from my bsfs :)

The first thing you noticed was the warmth.

Not the sunlight creeping through the barely-open curtains, or the cozy weight of the comforter draped across both of you—but him. All tangled limbs and light snores, radiating warmth like a living furnace.

Your face was pressed against his chest, right over his heart. You could hear it beating, slow and steady, like it had all the time in the world. One of his arms was wrapped securely around your waist, his hand resting just above the small of your back. The other was tucked beneath the pillow you were sharing, probably numb by now, but he didn't seem to care. He just held you, even in sleep.

It was rare to have a morning like this with him. He was always so busy—early rehearsals, late-night studio sessions, squeezing every ounce of energy into being everything for everyone. But today was different. No alarms. No schedules. Just the two of you, buried beneath a sea of blankets and pillows, in your shared little world.

You stayed still for a moment, not wanting to wake him just yet. His chest rose and fell with each slow breath, and you felt a smile spread over your face as you noticed the way his nose scrunched slightly, like he was dreaming. Probably something ridiculous. Or something sweet. With Chan, it could be both.

You let your hand wander slightly, tracing slow, lazy circles over his t-shirt where it bunched near his ribs. He let out a soft hum in response—half-asleep, half-aware.

"Mmm..." he mumbled, voice gravelly with sleep. "That tickles."

You grinned. "Good morning."

He shifted slightly, his hand tightening around your waist as he pulled you even closer. "Morning already?" he murmured, not opening his eyes.

"Kind of. The sun's up."

"Traitor," he mumbled into your hair, and you laughed softly.

Chan cracked one eye open, squinting against the soft morning light. His hair was a mess—fluffy, curly, and sticking out in every direction—but somehow still fairly cute. He looked at you with the gentlest smile, onyx eyes still heavy with sleep.

"You're staring," he said, voice still rough and sleepy.

"Can you blame me?" you replied, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "You're kind of a sight right now."

"Define 'a sight,'" he teased, leaning into your touch.

"Like... pillow lines on your cheek, puffy eyes, and a little bit of a bed head."

He groaned dramatically and flopped back onto the pillow. "You would bring up the bed head."

"Just painting an accurate picture."

"Well, lucky for you," he said, rolling back toward you and grinning, "I'm still the same charming guy you fell in love with."

"Unfortunately," you said with a mock sigh.

Chan gasped, clutching his chest. "Wow. Betrayed in my own bed. I can't believe this."

You laughed again, the sound soft and happy. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple, lingering for a moment like he was memorizing the feeling.

"I love waking up like this," he whispered, the playfulness melting into something more sincere. "With you. No alarms. No rushing around. Just this."

You nodded, your voice just as soft. "Me too."

He kissed you again, this time on the forehead. "We don't have to get up yet, right?"

"Not unless you want to."

"Good," he mumbled, pulling the covers up over both of you and tucking you into his chest again. "Let's stay like this forever."

You tucked your head beneath his chin, letting yourself melt into him. The smell of him—clean laundry, a bit of cologne, and something distinctly chanish—wrapped around you like another blanket.

"You know," you murmured after a few moments, "you snored a little last night."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes wide with mock offense. "I do not snore."

"Oh, you do. Very loudly. It's kind of cute, actually."

He groaned again, flopping onto his back. "This is slander."

"It's documented evidence."

"I need a new publicist."

You shifted to rest your chin on his chest and looked up at him, smiling. "No one else would put up with you."

He laughed, that warm, familiar sound filling the room. "You're probably right."

There was a quiet beat of silence, not awkward but full—like the two of you were soaking in the moment before it slipped away. His fingers brushed against your arm in lazy patterns.

"I don't say it enough," Chan said suddenly, his voice low. "But I really, really love you."

Your heart stuttered a little at the way he said it—not rushed, not dramatic, just genuine. Like it was the simplest truth in the world.

"I love you too," you whispered, fingers gently lacing with his.

He smiled like that meant everything.

Outside, the world slowly started to wake up—birds chirping, a car passing in the distance—but inside this room, inside this bed, it still felt like a secret little universe built for two.

Eventually, Chan tilted his head toward the window and sighed dramatically. "Okay, maybe I could be convinced to get out of bed... if there's coffee involved."

"You want me to make it?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

He shook his head and pulled you back into his arms. "Nope. Too far. You're trapped now."

"I have legs, you know."

"Not anymore. I've claimed them. You're part of the bed now."

You laughed, and he grinned, triumphant.

And so you stayed—wrapped in each other, in warmth and light and love—just a little longer. Let the rest of the world wait.

Chapter 10: Soft like this

Summary:

Minho x reader!
Cat cafe scenario

The bell above the café door chimed softly as you stepped inside, the scent of fresh coffee and something warm and sugary instantly wrapping around you. The soft sound of purring and playful meows came from the other side of the room, where a dozen cats lounged lazily on cushions, climbing structures, and laps.

Minho stood beside you, already grinning.

"This is heaven," he whispered dramatically, nudging you with his elbow.

You laughed, tugging off your jacket. "You haven't even met the cats yet."

"I can feel them judging me. I respect that."

The barista waved you over with a smile, checking your reservation. You glanced around. The space was cozy and softly lit, decorated in neutral tones and warm wood, with little cubbies and tunnels for the cats everywhere.

"I already see like three cats I want to adopt," you murmured, eyes scanning the fluffy residents lounging around.

Minho leaned closer. "You mean four, right?" he said, pointing to himself with a grin.

"Oh my lord." You rolled your eyes. "You did not just compare yourself to a cat."

"Why not? I'm agile, elegant, emotionally detached but secretly affectionate—"

"Don't forget aloof."

"And aloof," he added proudly.

You shook your head, laughing, and followed the barista to your little table in the corner near a floor-to-ceiling cat tree. She handed you a couple of drinks and a basket of treats to offer the cats, and then left you alone to enjoy the company.

It didn't take long before a curious gray tabby strutted over, tail flicking in interest. Minho immediately crouched down to her level, holding out a treat in his palm like he was presenting a royal offering.

"Your Majesty," he said in a mock-formal tone, bowing slightly. "Please accept my humble snack."

The cat blinked lazily and took the treat with all the ceremony of someone who knew they were the star of the room, right before strutting off, holding the the treat proudly in her mouth.

You snorted. "You two would get along perfectly."

Minho looked up at you. "Was that sarcasm or a compliment?"

"A little of both."

He grinned, straightening up and brushing imaginary dust off his knees. "I'll take it."

You sat on the couch, sipping your latte as another cat—a chunky orange one—jumped up beside you and immediately flopped into your lap like you were made of pillows.

"Oh wow," you murmured, gently stroking his fur. "You don't waste time."

Minho sat beside you, watching with wide eyes. "You're being chosen. That's a first."

"You're just jealous."

He leaned against your shoulder dramatically. "Maybe a little. Why do cats always fall for the quiet, gentle types? I'm just as soft once you get to know me."

"You danced to TWICE songs in the kitchen at midnight last night while screaming."

"That was self-expression."

"That was obnoxious."

Minho chuckled and reached out to scratch the orange cat behind the ears. "Fine. He can have your lap... for now."

The cat purred loudly, clearly very pleased with himself, and you and Minho fell into a comfortable silence, sipping your drinks and gently petting the cats that came and went.

You glanced over at him. He looked completely content, eyes half-lidded as a tiny calico climbed onto his knee. She nudged his hand until he obliged with a scratch, and he smiled in that soft way he only did when he thought no one was looking.

"You're such a cat person, hm?" you asked quietly, but teasingly.

He nodded. "Yeah. They're independent but affectionate. They don't force anything. They just... exist near you. It's comforting."

You tilted your head. "Like you, at least little bit."

He gave you a quick glance, eyes twinkling. "So now I'm allowed to compare myself to a cat?"

"I'm just saying, you're soft when you want to be."

Minho gave a mock gasp. "You're saying I'm emotionally available? I have a reputation to uphold."

You laughed, nudging his knee with yours. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. It'll be our little secret."

He gave you a lazy grin and leaned back into the couch, his shoulder pressing gently into yours. The calico curled up on his lap, kneading his jeans before settling in.

"This is nice," he said softly.

"Yeah," you agreed. "It is."

For a while, the two of you just sat like that—quiet, close, surrounded by purring and soft meows and the gentle clink of coffee cups from other guests. The café felt like a little bubble outside of time. No responsibilities, no stress. Just you, Minho, and a bunch of sleepy cats.

Eventually, Minho turned to look at you. "Do you think you'd ever want a cat?"

You blinked, a little surprised by the question. "Maybe. Someday. Why?"

"No reason," he said quickly, but his ears turned a little pink.

You smiled. "Would you get one with me?"

He paused, then nodded. "Yeah. I'd want to."

You stared at him for a beat too long, your heart doing a small, excited flip. He wasn't always open about feelings—not in obvious ways—but this was his version of it. Asking about a future with you through shared responsibility and hypothetical fur babies.

"I'd like that," you said softly. "It'd be our little family, with of course, Soonie, Doonie, and Dori."

Minho looked at you for a moment, then reached over and brushed a stray cat hair off your shoulder.

"I think we'd make a good team," he said, and this time, there was no teasing in his voice.

You smiled, and your fingers found his under the table. He didn't pull away.

Around you, the cats purred, the coffee steamed, and the world spun gently on.

But for now, nothing mattered more than this moment—with Minho beside you, your hands intertwined, and the quiet, and soft promise of maybe building a life together.

Chapter 11: Tulips

Summary:

Changbin x reader!
Cute Valentine’s Day imagine :)

You weren't someone who cared much for Valentine's Day.

You didn't hate it — but the commercial hearts-and-roses thing always felt a bit overdone. Love, in your opinion, didn't need to be broadcast in glitter and chocolates. It was something you showed in quiet ways — shared meals, inside jokes, sleepy conversations at midnight.

So you hadn't expected anything extravagant this year. Changbin was sweet, incredibly so, but he wasn't always predictable. Sometimes he surprised you with handwritten notes tucked into your bag. Other times he disappeared for hours because he'd hyperfocused on a workout or studio session and forgot to answer his phone.

This morning, he'd texted a simple "Happy Valentine's Day 💌 see you later?" at around 9 a.m., and then... nothing.

Now, it was nearly four in the afternoon. Your apartment was quiet. No sign of him. No updates. And though you tried not to overthink it, a small part of you couldn't help wondering if maybe he'd gotten caught up in work again. Or maybe he didn't have anything planned after all.

You were still in that slightly deflated headspace when there was a soft knock at the door.

Three short knocks. Then a pause. Then two more.

Your brows drew together. You got up, heart skipping a little.

When you opened the door, you blinked, then stared.

There, standing just outside, was Changbin — not in a suit, or dressed up in any traditional way — but in jeans and a black crewneck sweatshirt, holding the handle of a small red wagon that was absolutely overflowing with... balloons. Heart-shaped ones, some shiny, some matte, some see-through and filled with confetti.

He looked slightly out of breath, his cheeks flushed from the late afternoon sun, dark hair tousled from the breeze. But his smile was easy and warm.

"Hey," he said, a little sheepishly. "Happy Valentine's Day."

You opened the door wider. "What... is all this?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "I, uh... I wanted to do something special. Something kind of stupid and dramatic. But not like... too dramatic."

You stepped out into the hallway, taking in the scene. The wagon wasn't just filled with balloons. Nestled in between them were small boxes tied with satin ribbons, a bouquet of white tulips wrapped in brown paper, and a clear envelope filled with tiny notes.

"Okay," you said, trying not to smile too hard. "This is definitely stupid. But also kind of amazing."

He laughed. "I'll take it."

You reached for the tulips first. "These are beautiful. Not roses?"

"I figured you've seen enough roses on Instagram today," he said. "Tulips felt more like... you. Simple, clean. They open slowly, but they last longer than people expect."

You raised an eyebrow, impressed. "That's unexpectedly poetic."

"I had time to think while inflating fifty balloons," he said dryly.

You glanced up at him, noticing the faint ink stain on his wrist. "What's in the boxes?"

"Open the gold one first."

You bent down and pulled a small gold-ribboned box from between the balloons. Inside was a little hand-cut stack of polaroids. You smiled as you flipped through them — candid shots of you and Changbin from the past couple months. Laughing over street food. Falling asleep on the couch. You in his hoodie. Him making a dumb face at the camera with your head in his lap.

"I printed them this week," he said quietly. "I know you said you don't love Valentine's Day, so I didn't want to do something flashy. I just wanted to remind you of all the moments that made me fall in love with you."

You glanced up at him, caught off-guard by the sincerity in his eyes. "You... you made all this just for that?"

"Not just for that," he said, moving a little closer. "There's a note for each balloon too. If you want to read them."

Your eyes widened. "There are, like, forty balloons."

"Fifty-eight," he corrected. "One for every day we've been together since we kissed outside the tteokbokki place."

That stopped you. You stared at him, heart catching.

"You counted?"

"Yeah," he said with a small shrug. "I think about that night a lot."

There was a quiet beat between you — filled only by the soft rustle of balloons in the breeze and the distant hum of someone's TV through the hallway walls.

You reached out and took his hand.

"Come inside," you said softly. "Before the neighbors steal your flowers."

He grinned, then carefully tugged the wagon behind him as you both stepped into the apartment.

He set the tulips on the kitchen counter while you explored the rest of the wagon. Inside the second box was a playlist card — he'd burned a CD like it was still 2006, labeled in thick black ink with the words Songs That Remind Me of You.

The third box held two mugs with matching little bunnies on them — yours holding a heart, his holding a slice of cake. The kind of gift that didn't scream "romantic" on the outside, but meant he knew your favorite animal and your favorite dessert.

You turned to find him watching you, a little nervous now that the moment had settled.

"This is... a lot," you said honestly. "And I don't mean that in a bad way, you know?"

He leaned against the wall, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't want to overwhelm you. But I wanted you to know I love you in all the ways you might not always expect. In quiet ways, but also loud ones. Like balloons in a wagon kind of loud."

You walked over to him, slowly.

"And what about the letters?" you asked. "One for every balloon?"

He nodded. "Some are memories. Some are reasons I love you. One of them is just a drawing of your angry face when I steal your fries."

You laughed, then cupped his cheeks to kiss him. It was soft, unhurried — the kind of kiss that said thank you and I missed you and I'm really glad you're mine all at once.

When you pulled back, he pressed his forehead to yours.

"So," he said, voice low. "Did I redeem Valentine's Day?"

You smiled. "You didn't just redeem it. You made it mine."

He exhaled, clearly relieved.

"Good," he murmured, wrapping his arms around your waist. "Because I already bought next year's balloons."

You rolled your eyes, groaning into his shoulder. "Of course you did."

Chapter 12: Star dusted

Summary:

Hyunjin x reader!
Stargazing imagine - this chapter is a bit more deep idk :)

The world is quiet, as if holding its breath just for the two of you.

You're lying beside Hyunjin on a soft, slightly rumpled blanket spread across the grass. The summer night air is warm, with a hint of breeze that occasionally brushes past your cheek, carrying the scent of dew and distant jasmine. Above you, the sky stretches wide and endless, dusted with stars like powdered sugar on velvet.

Hyunjin's shoulder grazes yours, his hand tucked beneath his head as he stares up into the night.

"I always forget how many stars there are until I'm actually looking at them," he murmurs, voice low and slow, like honey dripped onto warm toast. "Always traveling... you forget."

You hum in agreement, turning your head slightly to glance at him. The moonlight kisses the edges of his profile—his jawline soft, lips parted, eyes reflecting constellations.

"You ever wonder," you say, "if someone else, somewhere far away, is lying under the same sky, thinking about someone they love?"

Hyunjin doesn't respond right away. Instead, his hand shifts slightly—just enough for his fingers to brush against yours. You don't pull away.

"I do," he replies finally. "I wonder if stars remember us. All the people who've stared up at them, made wishes, whispered secrets..."

You laugh quietly. "You're such a poet sometimes."

He smiles, not looking at you. "You make it easy."

There's a pause. Not awkward—just full of unspoken things. The kind of pause where the air feels heavy with truth, if either of you dared to reach out and touch it.

"What would you wish for?" he asks suddenly, turning to face you. His eyes search yours, serious in that soft, Hyunjin way that always feels too much and not enough all at once.

You blink, caught off guard. "A wish?"

He nods. "Yeah. Right now. One wish."

You hesitate, then glance up at the stars again. There are too many to choose from, too many thoughts pressing at the edges of your mind. But somehow, in the quiet, one rises above the rest.

"I'd wish..." You pause. "To always have nights like this. With people I love. With you."

You don't mean to sound so vulnerable, but the words come out coated in honesty. They drift into the night, and you wonder if the stars will catch them.

Hyunjin exhales slowly, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Then I'd wish for the same thing," he says. "But maybe with a little more courage."

Your brows furrow gently. "Courage for what?"

"To say the things I always think about," he murmurs. "Like how peaceful I feel when I'm with you. Or how I look for your name in every song lyric I write. Or how... sometimes I think I fell for you before I even realized it."

The night holds still. Even the breeze seems to pause.

You sit up slowly, heart fluttering in a way that feels like soft wings against your ribs. Hyunjin follows, propping himself up on his elbow, watching you.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, the corners of his mouth curling in a wistful half-smile. "I guess I didn't want to break whatever this is. This... soft, quiet thing between us. I didn't want to scare you away."

You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. It fits naturally, like it's meant to be there.

"I'm not scared," you say, and you mean it.

Hyunjin looks at you like you've given him the universe.

The silence that follows is different now—warmer, fuller, like the stars are wrapping around you both. The night hums softly, like a lullaby only the two of you can hear.

"I used to be afraid of the future," you admit quietly. "Of things changing. People leaving. But right now, I feel... calm. Like maybe some things don't have to be figured out. Maybe it's enough to just be here."

Hyunjin squeezes your hand gently. "You make the future feel less scary."

You smile, cheeks flushing with something delicate and bright. You lean your head against his shoulder, and he leans into you too, like gravity has chosen this exact moment to pull your hearts closer.

The stars above you keep glittering, patient and ancient, bearing witness to a moment so soft it might dissolve if you looked at it too directly.

After a while, Hyunjin breaks the silence with a soft laugh.

"What?" you ask, amused.

"I just realized," he says, turning to you, "if this were a movie, this would be the part where we kiss."

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. "And is that what you want?"

Hyunjin grins, his eyes crinkling in that way you've always secretly adored. "Only if you do."

You don't reply. You just lean in, slow and sure, and he meets you halfway.

The kiss is gentle—like a promise made under starlight. Like warmth against the cool night air. Like everything unspoken finally given a voice.

When you pull away, you're both smiling.

Chapter 13: The one I sing for

Summary:

Jisung x reader!
I’m a writer not a composer PLEASE ignore how bad the lyrics are, I didn’t know what to put haha

The studio smelled like coffee, cherry lip balm, and faint traces of cheesecake — familiar and comforting, like the warmth of a favorite hoodie or the hum of late-night laughter. It was well past midnight, but Jisung didn't seem to notice. Or care. His headphones were perched around his neck, a worn notebook resting in his lap, and his fingers danced lightly across the keyboard of the MIDI controller.

He was creating something. And it was about her.

You, obviously.

You stood in the doorway, quietly watching him. His brows were furrowed, hair a fluffy mess from hours of running his hands through it. The little crease in his nose appeared when he was deeply focused, and you smiled softly. It was one of those rare, quiet moments that didn't need words.

But he heard you anyway.

"You're here," he said, spinning his chair around and offering a tired — but sweet — grin. "Wasn't sure if you'd actually come. It's late."

"You told me it was important," you replied, stepping in and gently setting down a bag with snacks. "And you never call something 'important' unless it really is."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah. It's... It's kind of a big deal. I wrote something. For the new album."

You raised an eyebrow, curiously. "That's amazing, Ji. What's it about?"

He hesitated, looking down at his hands. For all the confidence he had on stage, in interviews, in front of millions — this was different. This wasn't just music. This was personal.

"It's about you," he said softly.

You blinked, raising your brow.

"Me?"

"Yeah," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "You."

He stood, pacing for a moment before stopping in front of you, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie sleeve. "I didn't mean for it to happen like this. It just kind of... poured out. Like, I started writing about how being around you makes everything feel lighter. Like the world's still a mess, but suddenly, I'm okay in the middle of it."

Your breath caught.

"Every version of love I've ever tried to explain felt cliché. Until you. You made it simple. So, I wrote it down. And now it's on the album. Or — well — it might be. If the guys agree."

You took a moment, letting his words settle into your chest like warm tea. Jisung rarely got nervous with you. Silly? Of course. Dramatic? Always. But this — this was raw. He was opening up a piece of himself and placing it gently in your hands.

"Do you... wanna hear it?" he asked, eyes hopeful, like a little kid showing off a drawing.

You nodded, heart thumping. "Only if I get the exclusive pre-release listening party."

He grinned. "You're my VIP."

He gestured to the small couch in the corner and you sat, tucking your legs under you as he returned to the soundboard. The room dimmed slightly as he adjusted the lighting — soft, golden tones, almost like candlelight.

"Okay," he said, pressing play. "This one's called 'Anchor.'" (Sadly, this isn't in the new album - just a made up song :< )

A soft guitar intro filled the room, delicate and slow. Then came the beat — steady like a heartbeat, layered with a subtle synth that shimmered underneath. And then, his voice.

When the night feels too loud,
And I can't breathe out,
You're the silence I borrow,
The calm in the clouds.

You felt goosebumps prickle your skin.

You don't even try,
But you pull me back in,
From the edge of the noise,
To the quiet within.

The pre-chorus swelled, and your eyes started to sting.

They say love is fire,
But you're the sea —
Gentle and strong,
Holding all of me.

Then the chorus hit:

You're my anchor, when I drift too far,
My safe place, my northern star.
When the world gets heavy,
And my hands let go —
You're the song I didn't know I needed to know.

Your hand slowly cupped over your mouth, eyes wide. It was him — every part of his soul, his voice trembling on notes that sounded so achingly sincere, so utterly full of you. The lyrics weren't flashy or complicated — they were warm, real. And that made them hit even harder.

When the final notes faded, the room fell quiet again. Jisung didn't turn around right away. He stayed still, letting the silence settle like dust.

"I wanted to say it in a way that mattered," he murmured. "Not just with words. But with music. The one thing I always go to when I don't know how else to speak."

You got up slowly and crossed the room. He looked up just as you reached him.

And then you hugged him — no words, no dramatic declaration. Just arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, your head buried in the crook of his neck.

He sighed in relief, melting into your embrace. "So... not cringe?"

You laughed into his hoodie. "Absolutely cringe."

He pulled back with a gasp, pretending to be offended.

"But also," you added, brushing a hand through his hair, "the most beautiful thing anyone's ever written for me."

He flushed pink, ears turning red. "You really think so?"

"I know so," you whispered, cupping his cheek. "Ji, I've always loved your music. But this? This feels like... home."

He blinked a few times, then leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. "If this makes the album, it's going to be because of you. And if it doesn't..."

You tilted your head. "Then?"

"Then it'll just be our song. Forever."

Your chest tightened at that — the way he said our like it was sacred.

"I like that," you whispered. "But I think the world deserves to hear it too."

He grinned again, eyes shining.

"I'll tell the guys it passed the most important test."

You smirked. "Because I'm brutally honest?"

"Because you're you. And that's enough."

Chapter 14: Happy thanksgiving!

Since thanksgiving is coming up, should I make a thanksgiving/chuseok chapter?

I feel like itd be cute but idk- please tell me what y’all think should it be with one member or all of them? Or any other suggestions?

Lemme know!

Xx

Chapter 15: Chuseok/Thanksgiving

Summary:

A lil thanksgiving chapter for the holiday!
Shout out too YarRow_gard3en for the ideas for this chapter - ilysm

“Babe… is this supposed to look like this?” Chan asked, staring into the oven with the expression of a man confronting his own mortality.

You rushed over, oven mitts halfway on. “What do you mean ‘this’?”

Changbin peeked over his shoulder. “It’s… brown.”

“It’s a turkey, Bin.”

“But it’s really brown.”

“THAT’S WHAT TURKEYS DO!”

He nodded slowly, as if this was new lore he needed to memorize.

You took a deep breath. Introducing eight Korean men—who had grown up celebrating Chuseok and not a single Thanksgiving—into American holiday chaos was always going to be a journey. But they’d insisted.

“Teach us!” Hyunjin said with sparkly eyes weeks ago.

“It’ll be fun,” Jisung promised.

“We’ll help,” Seungmin added, sounding suspiciously confident.

“We’ll try to help,” Jeongin corrected, but with a tiny smile.

Now here you all were, in your JYP dorms decorated with paper leaves they insisted on taping to everything. Han taped three to Bbama. The dog was not thankful.

The boys hovered around the kitchen island like overgrown golden retrievers.

“Okay,” you said, clapping your hands. “Thanksgiving lesson number one: this is about appreciating what you have. Gratitude.”

Felix’s eyes warmed. “Like we do during Chuseok.”

“Exactly,” you said. “Just with more carbs.”

Minho crossed his arms. “More carbs than Chuseok? Impossible.”

You pointed your spatula at him. “Watch me.”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🥧༄⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The table looked… honestly incredible.

Mashed potatoes, roasted veggies, stuffing, rolls, and the turkey that Changbin definitely thought was about to explode.

“Everything looks so good,” Chan said, taking a photo like a proud dad.

“Can we eat now?” Jeongin asked, because he was honest and real.

You nodded and sat down. Chan squeezed your hand under the table. Felix leaned his head on your shoulder. Hyunjin fed you a spoon of mashed potatoes like a Victorian man trying to court someone.

Then the first disaster came—predictably—via Han.

He stabbed the turkey triumphantly.

The knife stayed stuck.

Like… didn’t move.

“Oh,” he whispered. “Oh no.”

“Why is it stuck?!” Changbin demanded.

“Is this normal?” Hyunjin asked.

“DID WE BREAK IT?!” Jisung yelled.

“BREAK WHAT?” you yelled back. “THE LAWS OF PHYSICS?!”

Chan pressed his palms together and exhaled. “Guys. Calm. Down.”

He tried to pull the knife out.

It didn’t budge.

Minho filmed it all.

Eventually, after too much teamwork and too much screaming, the turkey surrendered, and dinner continued peacefully.
Well—peacefully-ish.

Hyunjin cried at how good the mashed potatoes were.

Jisung choked on stuffing because Hyunjin’s crying made him emotional.

Jeongin stole a roll from Changbin and sprinted away, only to be caught in record time.

Felix gave you little pieces of his food “because you need to try the best parts.”

Seungmin wiped sauce from your cheek. “You’re messy,” he said sweetly.

Chan looked like the happiest man alive watching everyone laugh.

By the end, the table looked like a battlefield, but everyone was smiling.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🥧༄⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Movie night was your idea.

The cuddle pile was not your idea, but you weren’t complaining.

Before the film even started, Felix pulled you into his lap. “I’m your weighted blanket today,” he announced proudly.

Hyunjin whined, grabbing your hand. “But I want to be next to them—”

“Then sit on this side,” Minho interrupted, tugging him closer with a smirk.

(Hyunjin melted instantly.)

Chan took the other side of you, warm and solid.

Seungmin grabbed your feet like they were free real estate.

Jeongin laid across Changbin like a human scarf.

Jisung clutched a bowl of popcorn like it was his child.

The movie began.

Five minutes in, Felix was whispering commentary in your ear.

Ten minutes in, Hyunjin asked why the character made that stupid decision.

Fifteen minutes in, Jisung dropped popcorn everywhere.

Twenty minutes in, Minho and Seungmin started arguing about the plot.

Thirty minutes in, Jeongin fell asleep holding a roll from dinner.

Chan chuckled quietly and kissed your temple. “Are you surviving your first Stray kids-style Thanksgiving?”

You leaned into him. “Barely.”

Felix hugged you tighter. “We’ll protect you.”

“You’re the danger—!” you began.

But they were too cute to stay fake-mad at.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🥧༄⋆⭒˚｡⋆

When the credits rolled, Chan muted the TV.

“Okay,” he said. “Time for something important. We want to do the Thanksgiving tradition properly.”

You blinked. “Are we… doing the ‘thankful’ thing?”

Eight heads nodded.

Minho went first.

He sat up, expression serious—but soft.

“I’m thankful,” he began, “that we’re all healthy, happy, and still together after everything.”

He gave you a pointed look.

“And I’m thankful you’re patient with us. Even when we’re idiots.”

Felix raised his hand next like an excited kid.

“I’m thankful for the first real Thanksgiving meal I’ve ever had—especially the mashed potatoes.”

He grabbed your hand.

“And I’m thankful for you. For loving all of us at once without making any of us feel less special.”

You bit your lip, emotion hitting you quietly.

Jisung wiped his eyes. “Why is everyone being emotional… I was gonna say I’m thankful for food!”

“You can still say it,” Seungmin sighed.

“Okay. I’m thankful for food AND for you,” Jisung said, cheeks pink. “Because… you make everything feel warm. Like home.”

Jeongin sat up next.

He didn’t make eye contact.

He was shy—even after months of dating—but he squeezed your hand.

“I’m thankful you include us in stuff we didn’t grow up with,” he said. “And that you always explain things without making us feel dumb.”

Changbin scratched the back of his head. “I’m thankful you never judge us. And that you’re always cheering for us. And that you—uh—cook food that doesn’t make me cry sometimes.”

Chan snorted.

Seungmin spoke calmly. “I’m thankful for how you understand each of us differently. You don’t try to love us the same way—you love us the way we need.”

Hyunjin leaned his head on your shoulder. “I’m thankful for… the way you look at us. Like you’re proud. Like you choose us every day.”

Finally, Chan.

He took your hands, thumbs brushing your skin.

“I’m thankful for this,” he said softly. “For a future I didn’t think I’d ever have. Something normal. Something warm. Something ours.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“And I’m thankful you let eight chaotic men worship you the way you deserve.”

Your throat tightened.

“You guys…” you said, blinking back tears. “This is supposed to be my holiday and you’re making me emotional.”

Minho grinned. “Good.”

Jisung sniffled loudly. “GROUP HUG!”

You were instantly swallowed by eight bodies, warmth everywhere, laughter spilling over you like a blanket.

It was soft.

It was chaotic.

It was perfect.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🥧༄⋆⭒˚｡⋆

The cuddle pile eventually shifted into a gentler sprawl.

Chan stroked your hair.

Felix traced hearts on your back.

Hyunjin played with your fingers.

Minho leaned his forehead against yours.

Changbin and Jisung whispered to each other behind you.

Seungmin rested his head on your lap.

Jeongin snored into a throw pillow.

You closed your eyes, surrounded on all sides by warmth and love.

“Hey,” Felix whispered. “What are you thankful for?”

You smiled.

“I’m thankful,” you said, “for all of you. For new traditions. And for cuddles. Lots of cuddles.”

Jisung gasped. “WE CAN DO MORE OF THOSE.”

Chan smirked. “We already are.”

Minho kissed your cheek. “Happy first Thanksgiving with us.”

“Happy first Thanksgiving,” you whispered back, heart full.

Maybe they didn’t grow up with this holiday.

Maybe the food was questionable, the movie chaotic, and the turkey trauma unnecessary.

But this—

All of you together—

felt like the very definition of being thankful.

Notes:

I tried to make it funny but why’d it turn out more emotional at the end :(
Happy thanksgiving everyone!
사랑해요!

Chapter 16: Sunkissed

Summary:

Hellooo I’m back! <3
Sorry I haven’t been active - these last few weeks of school r brutal I have too many tests and finals Oml 😭
But I’m finally back to update! Please enjoy this chapter it was honestly adorable - tho I’m prob biased cause Felix is my bias haha
즐기다!

The plane touched down just after sunrise, golden light spilling through the windows as Felix gave your hand a gentle squeeze. You turned to him, bleary-eyed but smiling, and he looked like he hadn't slept a wink—not that you could blame him. His excitement had been radiating off him since you left Seoul.

"Welcome to paradise," he said, brushing a thumb over your knuckles. His voice, low and warm, melted into the hum of the waking airport.

You smiled, leaning your head on his shoulder. "It already feels like home."

Felix had talked about bringing you to Australia for months. Every time he spoke of it—his childhood memories of beaches, his favorite place for meat pies, the sunrises he used to sneak out to watch—you'd see something light up in him. And now, he was finally sharing it with you.

The drive to the beach house was quiet, both of you too tired for real conversation, but not too tired to hold hands the whole way. You passed sleepy coastal towns, eucalyptus trees lining the roads, and glimpses of blue-green water sparkling beyond the cliffs. By the time you arrived, the sun was high and bright, casting shadows on the white-walled, glass-fronted beach house perched perfectly above a stretch of untouched sand.

Felix threw open the doors like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Ta-da!" he beamed, arms wide. "Home for the week."

It was stunning—spacious, airy, with the kind of soft linen couches you'd want to sink into forever, and a view of the ocean that looked like it had been painted just for you. You wandered through the house in awe while Felix followed behind, kicking off his shoes and opening windows to let in the breeze.

He caught you staring out at the water from the back deck, arms wrapped loosely around yourself.

"You like it?" he asked, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"I love it," you said softly. "It's so... peaceful."

Felix smiled, the kind that crinkled his eyes and revealed the tiniest dimple in his cheek. "I wanted this to be ours. Just you and me. No work, no noise."

You turned and kissed him gently, sunlight warming your skin. "Then it's perfect."

The days that followed fell into a rhythm so natural it felt like you'd lived there forever.

You woke up late, tangled in sheets, Felix's freckles glowing against sun-kissed skin as he sleepily offered to make coffee. Some mornings you joined him, others you just watched—admiring how he always hummed to himself while waiting for the kettle, how he added just the right amount of milk to your cup without asking.

Afternoons were spent on the beach. Felix taught you how to bodyboard, laughing uncontrollably each time either of you wiped out. Sometimes he carried you into the waves just to hear you squeal. Other times, he just held your hand as you walked along the shoreline, your footprints side by side in the wet sand.

One day, he brought out a picnic basket.

"I packed lunch," he said proudly, revealing sandwiches, fresh fruit, and an ungodly amount of Tim Tams.

"You really are Australian," you teased, biting into a passionfruit.

He leaned back on his elbows, sunglasses slipping slightly down his nose. "Just trying to impress you."

"As if you have to try."

You sat together on the picnic blanket, eating lazily, watching the waves roll in. Felix was quieter then, letting the wind fill the silence between you. At one point, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Thanks for coming with me," he said.

"Thanks for bringing me."

"I just wanted you to see where I came from. This part of me." He hesitated. "And now I get to see you in it."

You looked at him—sunlight playing across his face, the sound of the sea behind him—and realized he had never felt more like home.

Evenings were slow and warm. You cooked dinner together in the open kitchen, music playing low in the background. Felix often danced barefoot across the tiles, pulling you into goofy twirls while something sizzled on the stove. Later, you'd bring wine out to the deck, wrapped in a blanket together, watching the sky shift into deep shades of pink and gold.

One night, he set up a projector outside. You watched WALL-E with the stars overhead and the ocean whispering just beyond the dunes. Felix kept sneaking glances at you during the best parts, like your laughter was better than the film.

"You always do that," you whispered, catching him.

"Do what?"

"Look at me like I'm the main character."

He chuckled, sliding an arm around your waist. "Because you are."

The last morning came too fast.

You sat on the beach one final time, coffee mugs in hand, the breeze cooler than before. Felix leaned back against a rock, pulling you close into his chest. Neither of you spoke, letting the sound of the waves and the distant calls of seabirds fill the space between you.

"I'll miss this," you said finally.

"We'll come back," he replied. "Maybe next time for longer."

You tilted your head up. "Promise?"

He met your eyes. "Promise."

He kissed you then, slow and sweet, with the taste of salt and sunlight still on your lips. And as you pulled away, you caught a familiar look in his eyes—that mix of wonder and calm, like he still couldn't believe you were real.

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder.

Wherever Felix was, you figured, you could always find a little piece of home.

Notes:

Why am i lowkey crying 🥲

Chapter 17: A+

Summary:

Seungmin x reader!
Hope u guys enjoy- this chapters so cutie, like a study buddy idea

Seungmin's pen scratched rhythmically against the paper as he diligently worked through his notes. His concentration was so intense, his brows furrowed slightly, and every now and then, his lips would mumble quietly as he read over his notes. It was like he had his own little bubble of focus, one that no one could interrupt—except, of course, for you.

You leaned back in your chair, watching him. The way his glasses perched on his nose, the small smile that tugged at his lips when he figured something out—there was something so effortlessly charming about him. You had known Seungmin since the beginning of college. He was your study buddy, your go-to person for academic help, and one of the few people you actually felt completely comfortable around.

It started innocently enough. The first time you two studied together was during your first semester. You had both been in the same intro to psychology class, and when the professor announced the first big exam, you panicked. You weren't sure where to start, and everything seemed so overwhelming. That's when Seungmin had casually mentioned that he was going to review some material at the library, and you had asked if you could join him. He agreed without hesitation.

Back then, you hadn't expected to form a friendship with him. He was studious, quiet, and kept mostly to himself, but once you got to know him, you discovered he had a dry sense of humor and a genuine kindness that drew people to him, even if he didn't always show it. You both clicked immediately. The way you could talk for hours about a topic and still feel like there was more to explore, or how you would quiz each other on random facts just to make studying more fun—those moments made studying less like a chore and more like an enjoyable routine.

And now, here you were, in your third semester, the most hellish of all semesters, sitting across from him once again. But something had shifted over the past few months. Something you couldn't quite place. You would catch yourself staring at him longer than usual, feeling your heart flutter whenever his hand brushed yours by accident. You would laugh at his jokes, but maybe, just maybe, you were laughing a little harder than you normally would.

"Hey, what did you get for number five?" you asked, snapping yourself out of your thoughts.

Seungmin didn't look up immediately, still scribbling down something in his notebook. When he did, he gave you that little grin you loved so much, the one that always seemed to make your heart do an extra beat.

"Did you forget the answer already?" he teased, his voice light and teasing, though you could hear the hint of concern behind it. "I thought you were the one who was always on top of things."

You laughed, but the sound came out a little too nervous for your liking. "It's just that number five is a little tricky. Can you explain it again?"

He pushed his notebook over to you with a soft sigh, leaning back in his chair. "Sure, but you owe me lunch after this."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully, but you also secretly adored the way he always found ways to tease you. Seungmin wasn't just academically gifted; he was also quite the charming little troublemaker.

As he walked you through the problem again, you found yourself distracted, his voice lulling you into a gentle daze. How had you gotten so lucky to have him as a study partner? Your thoughts were becoming more and more clouded by your growing feelings for him. You had always known you liked him more than just a friend, but today, it felt harder to ignore.

Seungmin caught you staring at him again, and his smile softened. He had started to notice the way you looked at him lately. The small, lingering glances, the way your cheeks flushed just a little when he touched your hand. Part of him had suspected it for a while, but he had been too afraid to say anything. What if you didn't feel the same way? What if he ruined the only good thing that was stable in his life—the friendship you two had?

"You okay?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, his voice now soft and concerned.

You snapped out of your reverie, blushing fiercely. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good! Just... um... a little tired, I guess."

He chuckled and reached for his water bottle, offering it to you. "You've been saying that for the last hour. You're not fooling anyone."

You took the bottle and drank, trying to collect your thoughts. It was only a moment later when you realized just how close he was, how his knee was almost touching yours under the table. That familiar flutter in your chest returned, and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He was still looking at you, though there was a softness to his gaze now, something that made your heart race.

"Seungmin..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper.

He raised his eyebrows in question. "What's up?"

"Do you... do you ever think about us?" You immediately regretted asking, the words feeling too bold, too vulnerable to voice.

His expression softened, and he leaned forward slightly, a knowing smile on his lips. "What do you mean by 'us'?"

You bit your lip, trying to figure out how to phrase what was swirling in your mind. "I mean... do you think about how we always study together? About how we've been doing this for months now? Do you think... maybe it could be more than just studying?"

Seungmin paused for a moment, his gaze intense as he seemed to analyze your face. You felt your heart drop a little, wondering if you'd said too much.

But then, he reached out, gently placing a hand over yours, and his voice was soft when he finally spoke.

"Yeah, I do think about it. A lot, actually."

Your eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, you couldn't quite process his words. "What?"

He smiled, his hand still resting on yours. "I've been feeling the same way for a while. I was just afraid that if I said something, it would ruin what we have."

The realization hit you like a wave, and all the tension in your chest melted away. You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, feeling your heart settle into a rhythm you hadn't even known you needed.

"So... what now?" you asked, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

"Well," he said, squeezing your hand gently, "how about we stop pretending that studying is all we're here for?"

You laughed, and it felt like a weight lifted from your shoulders. It wasn't going to be easy, and there would be plenty of awkward moments ahead, but for now, with Seungmin's hand in yours and a quiet promise of something more, you knew that studying together would never be the same.

And you were more than okay with that.

Notes:

𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

Thank u sm for reading! Tysm for any kudos and pls leave comments - Please also follow me on wattpad!

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