Wow, The Hyein Fic Went Beyond My Expectations.

Wow, the Hyein fic went beyond my expectations.

I enjoyed reading every sentence! I wish Hyein could read it so she sees herself the way we do.

Thank you so much! 🥹 I wish Hyein could see herself the way we do, too! She’s just too cute! But I’m hoping she’ll eventually become more comfortable and confident in her own skin 🙂‍↕️

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

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

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 32 mins

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

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

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

HYUNG LINE | MAKNAE LINE

한지성 ── HAN JISUNG.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

이용복 ── LEE YONGBOK.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

김승민 ── KIM SEUNGMIN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

양정인 ── YANG JEONGIN.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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──── *ੈ♡⸝⸝ THROUGH MY EYES ( newjeans )

❛ In a quiet moment beneath the shade of an oak tree, you and Hyein discover the depth of your love for each other through a heartfelt drawing that captures the beauty you see in Hyein’s soul, leading to your first tender confessions.

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐲𝐞𝐢𝐧 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.9k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 11 mins

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

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Non-Idol AU, High School AU, insecurities and self-esteem issues, mild anger, brief crying, two school girls in love, let me know if I missed anything!

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

The late afternoon sun lingers low in the sky, casting a warm, honeyed glow over the park. Its golden light filters through the thick canopy of leaves above, creating a dappled pattern that dances gently on the ground beneath the sprawling oak tree where you and Hyein have settled. A soft breeze stirs the branches, carrying with it the fresh scent of grass mingled with the faint sweetness of wildflowers blooming nearby. The air feels alive with the gentle promise of twilight, a perfect blend of warmth and coolness that makes everything seem to slow down, inviting a quiet moment of reflection.

You and Hyein, still in your school uniforms, occupy a well-worn wooden bench that has become your chosen spot for the afternoon. Your bags are carelessly tossed on the ground beside you, forgotten for now. Hyein sits with one leg tucked beneath her, her back resting against the bench’s armrest, giving her posture a laid-back elegance. Her school blouse is slightly untucked, a small rebellion against the neatness expected within classroom walls. The sleeves of her crisp, white shirt are rolled up to her elbows, revealing slender arms that are now comfortably exposed to the cooling air. Her tie hangs loosely around her neck, a simple gesture that hints at the relief of finally being free from the day’s structured demands. Her plaid skirt is carefully smoothed over her legs, creating soft pleats that fall in tidy lines. On her lap, her sketchpad rests, her pencil hovering uncertainly above the paper as she contemplates the self-portrait assigned by your art teacher, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Beside her, you sit close, your own school blazer draped over the back of the bench, as if marking your shared territory. Your sketchbook leans against your knee, pages already filled with faint outlines and shadows as you work on your own portrait. Your tie remains knotted around your neck, though it has shifted slightly askew from the day's wear, giving you a slightly disheveled look. Every so often, your eyes drift from your drawing to Hyein's face, watching the way the sun caresses her features. The light catches the delicate curve of her cheekbones, casting soft shadows that emphasize the natural beauty in her expression. Strands of her hair, gently tousled by the breeze, frame her face in a way that makes her seem almost ethereal, like a subject from an old painting.

Between the two of you rests a small pocket mirror, perched precariously on the bench. It's a shared tool, held between the brief pauses as you both glance into its reflective surface, examining your own faces with analytical intent before returning to the delicate lines of your portraits. The mirror catches the sun at certain angles, sending tiny flecks of light dancing around you, adding to the atmosphere of quiet intimacy.

Around you, the park is alive with the gentle sounds of a late afternoon drifting toward evening. The leaves rustle softly above, their movement creating a soothing, whispering melody. In the distance, the high-pitched laughter of children playing reaches your ears, mingling with the occasional chirp of birds hidden among the branches. Nearby, a small stream gurgles over smooth stones, its waters sparkling under the sun’s fading rays, creating a soft, calming background melody that weaves through the other sounds like a thread of tranquility. Occasionally, a few families or students from your school pass by on the gravel path, but their presence is like a distant hum—momentary and insignificant compared to the bubble of serenity you and Hyein have created around yourselves.

In this golden hour, time seems to stretch and bend, and you find yourselves lost in this quiet corner of the world, where every small detail becomes a story, every breath a shared moment of peace.

Hyein's usual bright expression seems dimmed today, like a cloud passing over the sun. As you sit side by side, sketching in the warm afternoon light, you notice her growing quieter, her brows knitting together in a frown of concentration—or perhaps something deeper. Her pencil hovers uncertainly over the page, and she has been staring at her sketch for what feels like too long. You can't help but watch her from the corner of your eye, a sense of concern tightening in your chest as you pick up on the faint tension in her posture, the way her movements have lost their usual fluidity. It's as if a storm is brewing beneath her surface, and you're close enough to feel its subtle tremors.

Moments pass, and you see the frustration begin to well up within her. Her lips press into a thin line, her grip on the pencil tightening as if she's trying to hold back a wave of emotion. Then, almost without warning, the dam breaks. Her hand moves with a sudden, furious energy, and the once-delicate lines of her sketch are obliterated by harsh, jagged strokes. The pencil becomes a weapon, each slash cutting across the page in a frenzy. The soft contours of what was supposed to be her self-portrait are lost beneath a chaotic lattice of dark, aggressive lines—an explosion of raw emotion laid bare in graphite.

The sound of the pencil's sharp edge scraping against the paper is grating, almost violent. You flinch, startled by the intensity of her actions, the suddenness of her discontent erupting into a crescendo that seems to scar the very essence of her drawing. The erratic marks dig deep into the paper, a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil, each stroke bolder and darker than the last. It's as if she's not just covering the image of her face but trying to erase something deeper—something that words alone cannot touch. Finally, with a sigh that trembles at the edges, she drops the pencil, her shoulders slumping as her eyes lower to the mangled sketch in her lap.

You’ve been watching her with furrowed brows and eyes full of concern, unable to ignore the heaviness settling between you. "Hey, what's wrong? It was looking pretty good!" you offer gently, trying to coax a smile from her, but your words seem to fall flat.

Hyein turns away slightly, her profile guarded, as if shielding herself from your gaze. "I don't know..." she murmurs, so quietly that you have to lean in closer to catch her words. "Sometimes I just feel...I feel like I don't measure up."

Hearing this, you feel a pang in your chest. Setting the pocket mirror that had been resting between you on top of your sketchbook, you shift it all aside to scoot closer to her. Gently, you drape an arm around her shoulders and use your free hand to softly guide her face back toward yours. When you see her eyes brimming with unshed tears, your heart aches, confusion swirling within you as you try to piece together what could be making her feel this way. "Babe," you begin softly, your voice a tender whisper, "What do you mean you feel like you 'don't measure up'? I mean, look at me—I’m no Frida Kahlo. I’m kind of a mess, really. So, there’s no way your self-portrait could be worse than mine."

Your attempt to lighten the mood is met with a small, huffed-out chuckle from her, but her gaze drops again, her fingers fidgeting with her skirt in her lap. "It's not about my obviously superior art skills," she mumbles, a weak smile tugging at her lips. You let out a soft giggle at her attempt at humor, but your face quickly returns to its earlier expression of concern.

Hyein sighs again, the sound almost embarrassed, and her voice becomes quieter, as if she's confessing something she finds foolish. "I just...it’s so stupid, but I feel like I don’t look good...like, at all." She glances away, her words lingering in the space between you, heavy with vulnerability.

You pause, leaning in slightly, trying to catch her eyes and understand the meaning behind her words. "What do you mean?" you ask softly, a hint of confusion threading through your voice. You don’t bother hiding the bewilderment anymore; instead, you gently cup her cheek with your hand, thumb tracing delicate circles over her soft skin, hoping to offer some comfort. Yet, there’s a lingering frustration in the air—your failure to grasp her feelings only seems to add to it.

With a sudden surge of emotion, Hyein pushes your hands away, her touch firm but not harsh, and scoots further down the bench, putting distance between you. She crosses her arms tightly over her chest, her posture defensive. Even in her irritation, you can't help but notice the blush rising to her cheeks, a deep, rosy hue of embarrassment spreading like fire. For a moment, she hesitates, her eyes downcast, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her skirt in a nervous dance. Then, almost as if the words had been yanked out of her, she snaps, "I feel ugly, okay?"

Her voice is sharper than you expected, cutting through the afternoon air like a blade, and it takes you by surprise. You blink, momentarily stunned by the harshness of her tone and the weight of her confession. It’s such a rare thing for her to admit; she’s always been the effortlessly confident girl who caught your eye with her carefree spirit and bright energy—the very things that had drawn you to her and made you fall for her.

But as the initial shock fades, a wave of tenderness washes over you. Your heart swells with affection, and a soft smile tugs at your lips. Without thinking, you scoot closer again, your knee brushing against hers. You reach out with both hands, a light giggle escaping your lips as you gently grasp her face, guiding her closer. You press a firm kiss to her forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath your lips. Then, without pause, you move to her nose, planting another gentle kiss there, before finally capturing her lips in a brief, tender kiss that speaks volumes in its simplicity.

When you pull back, your eyes fluttering open, you’re met with her adorable pout. She glares at you weakly, her irritation still lingering, though softened by the corners of her lips threatening to curve upward. There's a mixture of annoyance and reluctant amusement in her eyes, and you can't help but chuckle softly at the sight, finding an undeniable charm in her reaction.

"Love," you begin, your voice a soft murmur, steady yet filled with a raw earnestness. You pause, searching for the right words, though your gaze never wavers from hers—deep, unwavering, and filled with affection. "I wish you could see what I see...I wish you could feel the way my heart squeezes every single time I look at you."

Without giving her time to respond, you let your hands slide from her cheeks to her shoulders, fingers pressing gently but firmly into her skin as if anchoring her to this moment. Your voice, like a gentle breeze weaving through the leaves overhead, carries the weight of every unsaid thought, every unspoken feeling. "Hyein," you continue, each word a carefully placed step forward, "I don’t think you’d be able to handle what you do to my heart whenever your eyes light up while you talk about the things you love. You wouldn't last a day if your knees buckled the way mine do when I hear your laughter. It’s like a melody that always finds a way to brighten my dullest days, so contagious it lingers in the air long after you stop. If only you could see the way your kindness radiates, the way it makes you shine. Sometimes, it almost convinces me that you must be some kind of angel, not just a girl."

As you speak, you watch her closely, noting the way her eyes begin to shimmer with unshed tears. But this time, they aren't tears of frustration or insecurity—there's a smile blooming there, soft and wide, spreading across her face like the first light of dawn. Your words seem to float between you, almost tangible, as if they could reach out and wrap around her, pulling her into your heart.

Even so, a shadow of doubt lingers on her face, her gaze dropping down, her lips trembling between a smile and something more unsure. You can see she's still caught in that place between believing your words and believing her own inner critic. Without another thought, you decide to show her exactly what you mean.

Reaching for your sketchbook, the pages whisper as they turn, the rustle a soft accompaniment to the tender atmosphere. You flip to a blank page and take a deep breath, feeling a rare determination settle within you. You’ve never been one to put much effort into drawing before, but now, you silently plead with whatever gods might be listening, praying to any divine force in this endless universe for a miracle. Just this once, you beg, let me draw something that captures even a fraction of her beauty.

Without another word, you begin. The pencil moves across the page with a certainty you’ve never felt before, your hand guided by something deeper than skill or practice. As you draw, you start to speak again, narrating each careful stroke, each delicate line. "See here," you say softly, "the way your smile curves—it’s not just about the shape, but the warmth it carries. It’s like a quiet promise, like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm." You glance at her, catching the way her eyes follow each movement of your hand, her curiosity breaking through the last of her hesitation.

"And the way your eyes crinkle at the corners," you continue, your voice a soft, steady rhythm, "like they’re holding some secret joy. It’s more than just a detail; it’s a glimpse into your soul, into all the light you carry inside you." You shade in a section of the drawing, gesturing gently to the lines. "And the light in your hair here, it catches like it’s framing you, like you’re glowing from within."

As you bring her likeness to life, the world around you seems to hold its breath. The rustling of the leaves in the trees above, the distant laughter of children playing nearby—all of it fades into a soft, distant hum, creating a cocoon of quiet intimacy around the two of you. Hyein’s eyes remain fixed on the sketch, her expression softening, her lips parting slightly as she takes it all in, as if she’s finally beginning to see herself through your eyes.

When you finish, you pause, staring down at the drawing in your hands—a surprisingly good sketch that, despite your usual lack of artistic prowess, manages to capture not just her features but the light within her. It reveals the subtle expressions that make her so uniquely beautiful, the quiet moments that often go unnoticed by anyone but you. It’s more than a likeness; it’s a glimpse of her soul, the way you see her through the lens of your own affection.

Turning the sketchbook around, you hold it out to her like a precious offering, your heart pounding in your chest. Her eyes widen, the uncertainty in them shifting to something softer, something almost vulnerable. She studies the drawing intently, her gaze flicking back and forth between the lines and shades that capture the curve of her smile, the light in her eyes. Then, slowly, her eyes lift to meet yours, searching, as if seeking the truth behind your words.

"This is what Lee Hyein looks like through my eyes," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, suddenly shy in the face of your own revelation. You hadn’t realized just how deeply your feelings for her ran until this moment, how much of your heart you’d poured into this drawing. It feels like you’ve handed her a piece of yourself, raw and unfiltered.

For a moment, there is only the soft rustling of leaves above and the distant murmur of the world around you. Then, a small, genuine smile begins to bloom on her lips, delicate and fragile, like the first flower breaking through the snow after a long, cold winter. She leans in closer, her shoulder brushing against yours, warm and familiar. She hesitates, just for a heartbeat, before pressing a tender, electrifying kiss against your cheek.

"I love you," she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion, gratitude, and sincerity, each word weighted with a depth that sends a shiver through you. Your eyes widen slightly, your breath catching in your throat as you realize the significance of her words. This is the first time either of you has said those three sacred words. But Hyein’s expression is steady, unwavering, filled with a quiet certainty.

In that golden hour, under the shade of the old oak tree, time seems to stretch and slow. The world around you softens into a hazy blur of colors and distant sounds, fading away to grant you both this stolen moment of pure, unadulterated connection. It’s as if the universe itself pauses, holding its breath, to witness the spark that ignites between you.

With a surge of bravery, your heart swelling with a newfound courage, you lean in closer, your voice steady and clear despite the wild fluttering in your chest. "I love you, too," you reply, the words falling from your lips like a promise, firm and sure.

And there you sit, side by side, the world reduced to just the two of you. Her head gently comes to rest against your shoulder, and your heartbeats fall into a quiet, rhythmic sync, as if they were always meant to beat in time with each other. In that moment, you both feel like the only two people in the world, wrapped in a warmth that nothing could ever touch.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ My permanent taglist is open! (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

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

hey! can i request you and ot8 skz kissing in front of the other members?

Hey Anon! Thank you so much for this very sweet request! It was so much fun to write it, and I hope I delivered well! You're more than welcome to make more requests if you wish to 🫶── ( 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 )

────* ˚ ✦ CAUGHT IN THE ACT (HYUNG LINE | MAKNAE LINE)

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ) 15.6K

hiii i adored the caught in the act piece! all the situations seemed so organic and realistic, your writing is so good, share a crumb of talent with the rest of us pls 🤲🤲

(btw just wanted to let you know that in caught in the act you misspelled jeongins name in the title part of his section <33)

Hello! Thank you so much 🥹 Here are some crumbs, hold on 🫳✨

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR LETTING ME KNOW 😭 I promise I proofread it, but I guess I didn’t bother to check their names 💀

Thank you so much my lovely Merin! This piece hit kinda close to home but I really enjoyed writing it 🙂‍↕️

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

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

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

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 14 mins

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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