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1000 posts!

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I wasn't going to post this but the fact that I had to draw Tori standing on a book because otherwise she would've been too tall is too funny. So have a slightly wonky Sprolden.

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You deserve to be loved

heads up: family issues, reader is insulted (not by San)

San never raises his voice at you

He'd rather lose his voice altogether than screaming at you. He'd rather lose the argument itself and, damn, that's a lot coming from him. It doesn't matter if he is obviously right, if the world has been trying his patience lately or if it's hurting his pride.

He will never raise his voice at you.

You have told him how your family treated you before. You didn't seem bitter about that, you barely seemed to notice the effects it had on you. But he's seen your family.

He has heard the way they scream at the minor inconvenience and how they always take it all on you. How they constantly seem to call you names just because they can. Stupid, slow, ugly, slut, undeserving. And they'd always laugh it off.

You hadn't noticed this isn't normal yet. You loved your family and they claimed to love you too. Maybe this is just how people work? Maybe they just struggle a little bit with affection, maybe they are just playing around, maybe you're the one who's too sensitive.

But San has seen it. The way you look up so you don't cry. The way you flinch when someone gets too close too fast. The way you don't give yourself the credit you deserved just because their words made roots in your being.

Well, he decided that he was not going to be like that. You chose him out of all people to be with you. You chose him to be with you for the rest of your life. He wanted to be your family from now on, and for that he would not be like your family until now.

He never screamed at you. He was never rough. It didn't matter how angry or how impatient he was. Never, in all those years you've known him, had San offended or actually hurt you. Nothing but compliments, praise and kindness left his lips when he was around you.

That's because if no one taught you what love really is supposed to be like, he had no problem showing you the truth.

Masterlist | you'll probably like: hold me

Daily click

Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @sheraayasherrecs @queenofdumbfuckery @lezleeferguson-120 @diarylogbook08

Dividers by @saradika-graphics | images 1, 2 and 3

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•🧡• any TMR dude x Reader

•🧡• circa 430 words

•🧡• fluff, cuddles, and kisses

-> When you refuse to sleep...

He had never noticed that you look so concentrated when he had you in his lap. Your gaze caresses his face so intentively that he could feel the exact spot you are currently gazing at. There is this familiar warmth arising when he blushes and he sees you bursting into the softest of all smiles as you cup his cheeks, thumb gently brushing over the fragile skin under his eyes.

Instinctively, he tightens his hold around your waist and pushes you closer against him. Your surprised gasp has him holding his breath as if yours was enough for both. There is a pile of crinkles fabric between his fingers - his shirt on you.

'You know, people might say sleep is a non-negotiable priority', he whispers and steals a quick kiss which causes you to giggle happily.

'People might just be boring', you respond and kiss him back, slow with all the time of the night.

He hums before he can respond, your lips making him forget everything for a good couple of seconds. Only when you lean back again, he sees the first orange hues of the sun's arrival in the sky behind you, reminding him that you should sleep as you have to get up again soon, the glade's demands not waiting for one to rest when it's needed.

'Love, you gotta sleep a bit', he coos and brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

'Later', you coo back with a playful glint in her eyes.

He can't but huff and blush, so he hides his face in your shoulder. His grip on your waist tightens. There is his breath returning to him, mixed with your warmth when he exists so close to you, his nose and lips perfectly nuzzled against your skin.

A kiss against your neck and he finally feels you faltering. When he looks up, he finds your eyes closed. It's not just a blink. He actually finds you closing your eyes for a whole moment. To make sure it lasts, he kisses you again. It feels soft when his lips meet yours.

'Sleep', he hushes, sending the beg throught through your lips.

You smile and swallow.

'In a bit', you hush back playfully.

He shakes his head, this time insisting.

'Now', he whispers and he decides to be strict about it.

Gently, he pulls you down with him as he lays on the old matress. He makes sure your head rests comfortably on his chest when he pulls the blanket over you. With a kiss on the top of your head, he repeats his instruction.

'Sleep.'

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•🧡• any TMR dude x Reader

•🧡• circa 430 words

•🧡• fluff, cuddles, and kisses

-> When you refuse to sleep...

He had never noticed that you look so concentrated when he had you in his lap. Your gaze caresses his face so intentively that he could feel the exact spot you are currently gazing at. There is this familiar warmth arising when he blushes and he sees you bursting into the softest of all smiles as you cup his cheeks, thumb gently brushing over the fragile skin under his eyes.

Instinctively, he tightens his hold around your waist and pushes you closer against him. Your surprised gasp has him holding his breath as if yours was enough for both. There is a pile of crinkles fabric between his fingers - his shirt on you.

'You know, people might say sleep is a non-negotiable priority', he whispers and steals a quick kiss which causes you to giggle happily.

'People might just be boring', you respond and kiss him back, slow with all the time of the night.

He hums before he can respond, your lips making him forget everything for a good couple of seconds. Only when you lean back again, he sees the first orange hues of the sun's arrival in the sky behind you, reminding him that you should sleep as you have to get up again soon, the glade's demands not waiting for one to rest when it's needed.

'Love, you gotta sleep a bit', he coos and brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

'Later', you coo back with a playful glint in her eyes.

He can't but huff and blush, so he hides his face in your shoulder. His grip on your waist tightens. There is his breath returning to him, mixed with your warmth when he exists so close to you, his nose and lips perfectly nuzzled against your skin.

A kiss against your neck and he finally feels you faltering. When he looks up, he finds your eyes closed. It's not just a blink. He actually finds you closing your eyes for a whole moment. To make sure it lasts, he kisses you again. It feels soft when his lips meet yours.

'Sleep', he hushes, sending the beg throught through your lips.

You smile and swallow.

'In a bit', you hush back playfully.

He shakes his head, this time insisting.

'Now', he whispers and he decides to be strict about it.

Gently, he pulls you down with him as he lays on the old matress. He makes sure your head rests comfortably on his chest when he pulls the blanket over you. With a kiss on the top of your head, he repeats his instruction.

'Sleep.'

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•🧡• continuation of any TMR dude × Reader

•🧡• circa 300 words

•🧡• angst, fluff, comfort

-> When all seems hopeless...

'Make me believe you', you barely bring out.

You keep glancing at the moon behind him. Its pale light bathes the mountain of sands in a hue that reminds you of clouds. Ironic, you think, being in the desert where everything looks like a form of water at night. Fata Morgana or nightmares, you don't even have to choose.

His hands, full of cuts, dirt and blood lift from his lap to yours, and he gently rubs your thighs. There is a glimmer of pain in his eyes and you wonder how he manages to have it only be a glimmer. Your own eyes must be moon, the sun, and the stars all together, burning in pain.

'I can't-', he croaks out and his fingers tremble, but he remains determined to put your comfort first.

'Then don't lie', you whisper, an exhale that feels final accompanies your words.

He shakes his head relentlessly, and his hands wander to your shoulders.

The others sit further away, leaning against the rocks, some sleep, some stare at the sky, some fidget with whatever they could find to occupy body and mind with something simpler than the world usually has to offer.

'I'm not', he whispers full of desperation, sounding helplessly.

The sand under you is cooling down, becoming more like the moon with every passing minute and he shivers again.

'Okay', you give in and take his hands.

'If we were cats, I'd lick your hands clean now.'

That makes him laugh. He looks younger when he laughs, when his eyes don't hide any shimmer of his being for a second. Even when you can clearly see the pain next to the momentary amusement, he looks better, more alive, or perhaps, just more ready for life. It's enough. He is always enough.

•🧡• any TMR dude x Reader

•🧡• circa 430 words

•🧡• fluff, cuddles, and kisses

-> When you refuse to sleep...

He had never noticed that you look so concentrated when he had you in his lap. Your gaze caresses his face so intentively that he could feel the exact spot you are currently gazing at. There is this familiar warmth arising when he blushes and he sees you bursting into the softest of all smiles as you cup his cheeks, thumb gently brushing over the fragile skin under his eyes.

Instinctively, he tightens his hold around your waist and pushes you closer against him. Your surprised gasp has him holding his breath as if yours was enough for both. There is a pile of crinkles fabric between his fingers - his shirt on you.

'You know, people might say sleep is a non-negotiable priority', he whispers and steals a quick kiss which causes you to giggle happily.

'People might just be boring', you respond and kiss him back, slow with all the time of the night.

He hums before he can respond, your lips making him forget everything for a good couple of seconds. Only when you lean back again, he sees the first orange hues of the sun's arrival in the sky behind you, reminding him that you should sleep as you have to get up again soon, the glade's demands not waiting for one to rest when it's needed.

'Love, you gotta sleep a bit', he coos and brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

'Later', you coo back with a playful glint in her eyes.

He can't but huff and blush, so he hides his face in your shoulder. His grip on your waist tightens. There is his breath returning to him, mixed with your warmth when he exists so close to you, his nose and lips perfectly nuzzled against your skin.

A kiss against your neck and he finally feels you faltering. When he looks up, he finds your eyes closed. It's not just a blink. He actually finds you closing your eyes for a whole moment. To make sure it lasts, he kisses you again. It feels soft when his lips meet yours.

'Sleep', he hushes, sending the beg throught through your lips.

You smile and swallow.

'In a bit', you hush back playfully.

He shakes his head, this time insisting.

'Now', he whispers and he decides to be strict about it.

Gently, he pulls you down with him as he lays on the old matress. He makes sure your head rests comfortably on his chest when he pulls the blanket over you. With a kiss on the top of your head, he repeats his instruction.

'Sleep.'

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i wish everyone peace, sweet dreams, and minimal aching longing on this fine night

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Can you make a long version of 'dangerous charmer'?

ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍᴇʀ - ʜᴀɴ ᴊɪꜱᴜɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Helloo!!!! Im so sorry it take a very long time :(( I swear I already write it but I kept changing because I just have problem with my brain and I just feel the story is not good? I still feel it's not good but umm maybe it can be considered? please :(( Anyways, here's a long version of Dangerous Charmer. Enjoy

Warning: Contains themes of possessiveness, violence, and mafia-related content

---

Han Jisung was a mastermind.

Not just clever. Not just strategic.

No, he was terrifyingly brilliant, the kind of man who could dismantle an empire with a smile and a soft “Oops.” In the underworld, people spoke of him in whispers, like saying his name too loud would summon him. And if he did appear? You didn’t live to tell the tale.

To the world, Han Jisung was a ghost in designer suits, a storm in Gucci sunglasses.

But to you?

He was the man who bought three different types of milk because he could never remember which one you liked. The man who quietly learned to braid hair just so he could help when you had a bad wrist day. The man who didn’t sleep unless your side of the bed was warm.

He was chaos outside. But with you? He was comfort.

You were brushing your teeth one morning, still groggy and half-aware, when you noticed something on the mirror. A sticky note.

“You mumble in your sleep. It’s cute. I love you. - J 🖤

You laughed, toothpaste foam nearly spilling out. “This idiot,” you murmured, your heart fluttering.

He left notes like that sometimes. Sometimes they were sweet. Sometimes utterly dumb.

“You looked hot kicking me in your sleep last night.” “Bought you four cupcakes. Ate two. You’ll survive.” “I bribed the bakery lady to give you the warm pastries. Don’t ask.”

You swore he had the soul of a menace and the heart of a poet.

Later that day, Jisung slid an envelope across the kitchen counter, looking way too smug for a man wearing Hello Kitty slippers.

“Here,” he said.

You paused mid-sip of your coffee, eyeing the envelope like it was a trap. “What is it this time?”

“A gift.” He leaned forward, propping his chin in his hand like he already knew you were going to freak out.

You tore it open and froze. “This… this is a black card, Jisung.”

“Yup.”

You nearly choked. “This is... do you know how much money is on this?”

He grinned. “It’s infinite. Just like my love for you.”

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s so corny.”

“Corny and loaded,” he quipped. “Now take it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not a kept woman, Jisung.”

He laughed. “You are kept. Just… also deeply loved and dangerously spoiled.”

You softened, biting your lip. “I don’t need money to feel loved.”

He walked around the counter, gently cupping your cheeks. “I know. That’s what makes you different. But I want to give you everything. Because this world is brutal. And money? It’s my sword. My shield. My power. And if it can make your life even one ounce safer or easier, then you’re going to take the damn card.”

You stared up at him, heart twisting. He wasn’t giving you a luxury. He was giving you protection in the only language his world understood.

“…Fine,” you whispered.

“Atta girl.” He kissed your forehead. “Go buy yourself a tank. Or ten cats. Or a tiny island. Surprise me.”

---

But Jisung didn’t protect you with money alone.

There was a night, cold and too quiet, when everything changed.

You’d gone out alone for five minutes. Five. You wanted to grab a snack from the corner store, thinking no one would notice. Jisung had been in a meeting, and you didn’t want to bother him.

Big mistake.

Someone followed you out.

You didn’t notice until a hand brushed your wrist. “Hey—got a second?”

You turned, startled, only for Jisung to appear out of nowhere. One second it was just you and the stranger. The next, Jisung had him slammed against the concrete wall, rage pouring off him in waves.

“You must have a death wish,” he said, low and cold.

The man panicked. “I—I wasn’t trying anything—!”

“You touched what’s mine,” Jisung growled, twisting the man’s arm just enough to make him cry out.

“Jisung!” You ran up, grabbing his shoulder. “Stop it! He didn’t do anything!”

His grip didn’t loosen.

“Jisung, look at me,” you said, voice shaking. “Please. Let him go.”

His jaw clenched. Then, with a reluctant grunt, he dropped the man, who scrambled off into the night like his life depended on it.

When you got home, Jisung didn’t say a word. He sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, eyes dark and unreadable. You sat beside him, hesitant.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You think I’m angry because you went out alone?” he asked quietly.

“…Aren’t you?”

He looked at you. “No. I’m angry at myself. For not protecting you better.”

“Jisung, I’m not helpless.”

“I know. But that doesn’t mean I won’t burn this city to the ground if someone dares to touch you.”

You reached over, taking his hand. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone.”

His throat bobbed. “Yes, I do. That’s how I keep you safe. I’m the villain, remember? Let me be the monster so you never have to be scared.”

You leaned your forehead against his. “I’m not scared of you.”

“I wish you were,” he whispered.

A week later, the man who touched you was gone.

No word. No body. Just… gone.

And you didn’t ask.

One evening, curled up on Jisung’s lap, you finally whispered, “He disappeared.”

He sipped his drink. “Yes.”

You hesitated. “Did you—”

He looked at you slowly. “I warned him.”

You swallowed, but didn’t press further.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

He smiled against your cheek. “Keep me. Forever.”

---

That night, you had a nightmare.

You saw Jisung, bloodied, alone, walking through a dark hallway as people whispered behind him. You called his name, but he didn’t turn. You screamed, and still he kept walking until he vanished into the dark.

You woke with a start, breath ragged.

Jisung stirred beside you. “Baby?”

You couldn’t even answer. Just clung to him.

His arms wrapped around you instantly, no questions asked. “It was a dream. I’m here.”

You trembled. “I dreamed I lost you. I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“I’ll always find you,” he whispered, brushing your hair from your face. “Even if I have to tear the world apart.”

You buried your face in his chest. “Promise?”

He pulled you tighter. “I promise. No matter how dark it gets, I’ll never leave you behind.”

Han Jisung was a walking contradiction.

The man who played piano when he thought no one was listening. The man who bought a tiny kitten because he saw you smile at it once in a shop window. The man who wore blood like cologne, but flinched when you cried.

He was chaos wrapped in silk. A storm behind a smile.

But his love?

His love was unwavering. Fierce. Terrifying in its intensity, but pure in its purpose.

And if the world ever dared to take you from him?

Well.

It would burn.

---

Perm Tag : @m-325

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if you can’t eat a whole meal, eat half. you ate, that’s what is important.

if you can’t get out of bed, try and sit up instead of lying down. it’ll be better for your back and your blood pressure.

if you can’t shower or have a bath today, try and brush your teeth and clean your ears. it’ll keep you a little cleaner, and we often forget those areas. 

if you can’t get dressed today, change underwear and use some deoderant. it’ll leave you a little fresher until you have the strength to change fully.

and remember, i’m very proud of you. your best will look different every day, and that’s okay.

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Bothersome beast, comforting friend

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WHAT IS HAPPENING IN NYC THEY ALL LOOK SO GOOD?

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真夜中のドア - kim seungmin

Synopsys: Everyone told you they loved you—except the one who mattered most. But when words finally fail, love finds another way to speak.

Word count: 4,1k

Genre: fluff, slight angst, but happy ending

Warnings: none

You didn’t think you’d end up here—not really. Not at a company this big, not coordinating stages for a group as high-profile as Stray Kids. You’d started with small freelance gigs in college—community plays, university idol groups, indie concerts in cramped basements with fog machines that barely worked. But you were good. Fast. Quiet. Reliable. The type of person who knew how to get ten things done without asking twice. You didn’t try to charm your way into rooms. You just worked your way into them.

JYP had called you after a rushed recommendation from someone on the production team of a survival show you helped coordinate. You were supposed to be a temporary fill-in. One showcase. One comeback stage. And yet, somehow, you stayed.

It wasn’t glamorous. It was lugging cables before sunrise and running through camera blockings during lunch breaks. But you liked the chaos. The adrenaline. The rhythm of fixing problems before anyone else even noticed them.

That’s how you met Seungmin. Or—how he started noticing you.

At first, you barely interacted. You were all business: headset on, clipboard in hand, mic assignments color-coded and memorized. Seungmin didn’t say much either. Just a polite nod here and there when your paths crossed in rehearsal spaces or backstage.

But it changed during a rehearsal for an end-of-year special.

One of the junior staff dropped the wrong music cue—twice. The rest of the team scattered to fix it, but you were already crouched behind the console, rewiring the audio jack and muttering into your mic. You didn’t notice Seungmin watching from the side until the song started clean, without a hitch.

Later that day, you passed by him in the hallway. He paused. Just long enough to say, “You saved that rehearsal, you know.”

You blinked. “Just doing my job.”

He nodded slowly. “Still. Thank you.”

You didn’t think much of it. But he did.

After that, it kept happening. Little moments. He’d offer you a drink when you stayed late. Ask about the work no one else noticed. Mention your name when thanking staff after a shoot. He’d linger in conversations a little longer than necessary. Ask for your opinion during stage reviews. Smile more when you were around. You weren’t loud. You didn’t chase attention. But you were there, holding the chaos together. And somewhere along the way, Seungmin stopped looking past you like everyone else had. He started looking for you instead.

It doesn’t happen all at once. Seungmin’s always been the type to notice the small things — the way someone stirs their coffee before drinking, the way staff tie their shoelaces before a stage. He’s observant by nature. Methodical. Practical. It’s what makes him so steady under pressure. But with you, he starts noticing things he doesn’t have a reason to.

Like how you hum quietly under your breath when checking lighting cues, a habit so consistent he begins to recognize which checklist you’re running through based on the melody. Or how you tug on the sleeves of your hoodie when you're stressed, trying not to show it. He catches himself smiling when he hears your voice through the comms, even if you’re just calling out, “Group B, standby.”

Then one day, something small shifts.

You’re both reviewing the stage rundown for an upcoming music show — the group’s set is stacked, and the transition time between songs is tight. You sit cross-legged on the floor of the rehearsal room, laptop balanced on one knee, scribbling notes in the margins of your clipboard. Seungmin sits across from you, sipping from a protein drink, eyes drifting over your concentrated expression.

“You’re always this prepared?” he asks lightly, more curious than teasing.

You glance up, a bit surprised he’s talking. “Someone has to be. You guys don’t make it easy.”

He smirks. “Fair.”

There’s a moment of silence, but it’s comfortable. Familiar.

“You ever do something completely out of your comfort zone?” he asks suddenly, eyes not leaving yours.

You blink. “Why?”

“No reason,” he says quickly. “Just wondering.”

But that night, as he lies awake in bed, he thinks about how asking you to dinner would be out of his comfort zone. Not because he doesn’t want to — but because it would make this real. And real is terrifying. Still, the thought lingers.

A week later, after a particularly brutal day of rehearsals, you’re sitting on a bench just outside the studio building, sipping canned coffee and scrolling through lighting corrections.

Seungmin finds you there. He sits beside you without saying a word at first.

“Long day?” he finally asks.

You nod without looking up. “Stage four had a flickering LED panel, and the fog machine almost killed our mic levels, but… other than that, totally smooth.”

He laughs, a sound you’ve grown to love. He’s quiet for a beat, then says, “Hey.”

You glance over. “Yeah?”

“I was thinking…” He hesitates, lips parting like the words might float away before he catches them. “Do you want to grab dinner sometime?”

You blink, a bit caught off guard. “Just the two of us?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah. I mean—if that’s okay. I figured… we spend so much time working, maybe it’d be nice to just… not work. For a bit.”

You smile, heart doing something traitorous in your chest. “That sounds nice.”

He exhales — half relief, half disbelief. “Okay. Cool. I’ll… I’ll text you.”

You bump your shoulder lightly into his. “Don’t forget the emoji.”

He grins. “Not a chance.”

And when he walks away that night, fingers twitching at his phone like he can’t wait to type something ridiculous, Seungmin feels something strange bubbling under his skin. Not panic. Not uncertainty. Just… anticipation.

Because maybe this is out of his comfort zone. But maybe that’s exactly where you are.

Your first dinner together isn’t what you’d call romantic — at least, not by the usual standards.

There’s no candlelight, no nervous flirting, no dramatic confessions. Just a small, cozy restaurant tucked into a quiet side street. Seungmin picked the place himself, promising the kimchi jjigae was the best in the city — and he wasn’t wrong. You sit across from each other in a booth, steam rising from your bowls, and somehow the conversation flows with surprising ease.

You talk about everything and nothing: awkward rehearsal moments, your mutual hate for faulty headset mics, the time a stage light exploded mid-performance and Seungmin didn’t even flinch.

He makes you laugh — really laugh — more than once. And beneath his usual composed, dry exterior, you catch glimpses of something softer, something that only shows when he’s around you. Meanwhile, Seungmin watches you quietly, like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time, wondering how he ever thought you were just part of the background.

When he walks you back to your building that night, hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets, there’s a pause at the front steps.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say, half-smiling.

He nods. “I liked it.”

You’re not sure what you expect next — maybe a hug, maybe a goodbye — but instead, he says, “Wanna do it again sometime?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

From there, it’s a slow evolution. Neither of you announces it, labels it, or tries to define what it is. But suddenly, Seungmin starts waiting for you after rehearsals. He saves a spot for you at lunch. He learns how you take your coffee and always shows up with it before show call. His playlist changes — softer songs, more warmth.

You stop pretending you don’t notice the way his eyes follow you across the room, how his hand lingers just a second longer on your back when he walks past, or how his lips twitch up when you say something only he finds funny.

The others start catching on quickly.

Han nudges you during mic check one day and whispers, “When’s the wedding?”

Felix just grins knowingly. Hyunjin raises a teasing brow every time Seungmin’s voice softens around you. Even Minho, ever the observer, once walks past and mutters, “You’re doomed,” to Seungmin with a smirk.

But Seungmin doesn’t care. He’s not the loudest about it — he never will be — but he starts showing you in a hundred little ways: in the packed dinners he brings to late rehearsals, the forehead kisses he sneaks when no one’s looking, the way his messages always end with “Get home safe.”

Eventually, during one of those quiet moments, curled up together backstage after a long week, he turns to you and says, so simply:

“I think I’ve been yours for a while now.”

And just like that, you know.

This wasn’t loud. This wasn’t sudden. But this? This was love.

Over the next couple of weeks, without a grand gesture or without an elaborate conversation on where you two stand relationship-wise, it becomes clearer and clearer that you two are, in fact, a couple.

You feel it from small gestures. In his attentiveness, that seems to be exclusive to you.

You step into the rehearsal room just as Seungmin and the others are wrapping up their practice. The moment he spots you, his face lights up in a way that makes your heart skip. As you walk over, he subtly brushes his hand along your lower back, guiding you gently through the cluster of people. You barely notice the casualness of the touch, but others around you exchange knowing smiles.

Later, when you sit side by side on the couch, his fingers find yours, intertwining just briefly before he lets go, as if holding your hand too openly would be too much for now. Still, the warmth lingers.

During a break, you catch him watching you from across the room. His eyes are soft, full of care, but he quickly looks away when you meet his gaze. Only you understand what that silent glance means.

Later, you find a small note tucked on the side of your water bottle — a simple "Good luck today!" scrawled in his handwriting. You smile, feeling the comfort of his thoughtfulness.

He leans in close, whispering a teasing nickname only you know, making you laugh until you nearly fall over. It’s in that moment, your laughter echoing between you, that he squeezes your hand and you realize: you’re his, and he’s yours.

When the day cools down, Seungmin takes off his hoodie and gently drapes it over your shoulders, his fingers lingering for a heartbeat before he pulls back, shy but proud.

Finally, as you stand together waiting for the others to finish, he leans in just a little closer, the space between you narrowing naturally — a quiet promise, louder than words.

Doomsday comes a few weeks later. You’re sitting across from Seungmin, the small café around you humming softly with quiet conversations and clinking cups. He’s telling one of those goofy stories — the kind only he can pull off, full of awkward mishaps and exaggerated expressions.

You can’t help but smile as he talks about the time he accidentally wore two different shoes to practice. And then, just as he’s about to demonstrate his “fashion disaster,” he trips over an imaginary obstacle and nearly knocks over his coffee. You burst out laughing, the kind of laugh that feels like it’s been waiting to escape all day. It bubbles up from deep inside and catches you off guard. When you finally catch your breath, the words come tumbling out, almost like a surprise to yourself:

“I love you.”

Seungmin freezes, eyebrows rising in surprise, his smile faltering for a brief moment. You stare at him, suddenly embarrassed and wishing you could take it back. But then, instead of saying anything, he just grins that quiet, warm smile you’ve come to know so well. He reaches over, lightly bumps your shoulder with his own, and says softly, “You’re something else.”

That little gesture feels like a promise — a gentle acknowledgment that, even if he’s not ready to say the words yet, he feels the same.

In that quiet, shared space, you realize something: love doesn’t always need to be spoken. Sometimes, it’s carried in the small things—the pauses, the touches, the way someone holds you like you matter most.

Maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for now.

Confession No. 1 - Han Jisung

Han slides into the room where you’re working, headphones hanging around his neck, fingers nervously drumming on the table.

“Hey, can I steal you for a sec?” he asks, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly.

You look up, curious. “Sure, what’s up?”

He pulls out his laptop and opens the remix project for Super Bowl. “Okay, so here’s the deal—I’m totally stuck. My brain is fried, and this remix needs to slap, but I just can’t get it right.”

You grin. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

As you dive in, tweaking beats and layering sounds, Han watches you with a goofy smile. “I swear, you’re magic. Honestly, if I didn’t have my amazing girlfriend—the world’s best PR manager, by the way—I’d be on my knees for you.”

He smirks, clearly proud of that. “But seriously, you and Seungmin? You’re good for him. Like, really good. I’m happy he’s got you.”

You smile, pleasantly surprised.

Then, Han freezes for a second, cheeks reddening. “Uh, so, I just want to say... I love you.”

You blink, caught off guard.

“No, no!” he blurts out quickly. “Not like that! I mean—platonic love! Like, I love your skills, your brain, your patience with me being a mess.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Only you could make a platonic love confession sound so confusing but endearing.”

Han grins, relief washing over his face. “Yeah, that’s me. But seriously, thanks for helping me out. This remix’s gonna be fire.”

You exchange a smile, the music between you somehow feeling even better now — like the beat of a friendship that’s growing stronger every day.

Confession No.2 - Lee Know

The rehearsal studio buzzes with the usual energy, but you notice Lee Know standing off to the side, his brow furrowed and fingers tapping nervously against his thigh. The stage layout had been changed last minute, and you can tell it’s throwing him off—he’s worried the choreography won’t come together right.

You catch his eye and head over, holding a water bottle. “Hey, you look like you need this more than anyone right now.”

He accepts it gratefully, taking a few sips before letting out a shaky breath. “Thanks. This last-minute switch… it’s messing with the flow. I’m worried the moves won’t translate the way they’re supposed to.”

You smile gently, trying to ease his tension. “You’re one of the best dancers I know. The moves might change, but your skill doesn’t. The energy you bring? That’s what counts.”

Lee Know looks at you, eyes softening. “You’re right. I’m just... stressed, you know?”

You nod. “Totally understandable. But you’ve got this—and we’ve all got your back.”

For a moment, there’s silence, then Lee Know glances down at the water bottle in his hand and mutters, almost under his breath, “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I love you.”

You blink, surprised, but before you can respond, he shrugs, flushes a bit, and quickly adds, “Not like that, obviously. Just… you’re one of us now. You’re a good person.”

And just like that, he turns on his heel and disappears back into rehearsal like it never happened, leaving you smiling quietly to yourself, warmed by the unspoken trust.

Confession No.3 - Changbin

You step into the practice room balancing a tray with coffee cups, hoping the caffeine boost will lift their spirits during the long rehearsal. Changbin immediately zeroes in on you, snatching a cup like it’s a lifeline.

“See? This is why I love you!” he declares, clutching his chest with mock drama. “You get the assignment right every time.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. He leans in, voice dropping to something softer, more sincere. “Seriously though. You’re amazing. I hope he tells you soon. You deserve to hear those three little words.”

His words catch in your throat. The truth is, you’ve been waiting—patiently, hopefully—for Seungmin to say it. But a week has passed, and the silence has started to sting. The fact that the boys know about your inner turmoil makes it a hundred times worse.

Changbin’s teasing cheerfulness fades when he catches the look in your eyes. “Hey, don’t let it get to you. Sometimes people show love differently. You just gotta give him time.”

Just then, Seungmin walks in behind Changbin, catching the last part of the conversation. He pauses, watching you with a softness that speaks volumes, but he doesn’t say the words himself.

Instead, he quietly places a hand on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

You look up, searching his face for a sign, but all you see is a tender hesitation.

As he steps away, your smile falters. You clutch your coffee a little tighter, the warmth not quite reaching your heart.

Confession No. 4 - Felix

Felix’s kitchen smells like cinnamon and vanilla, soft lo-fi music buzzing from a speaker near the windowsill. You’re elbow-deep in flour and laughter, icing cupcakes with reckless abandon while he watches you with that signature sunshine smile.

“Seungmin told me you’ve been a little… distant lately,” Felix says gently, placing a tray of cookies into the oven.

Your hands pause mid-swipe of frosting. “I’m not trying to be. It’s just—hard, I guess. Waiting.”

Felix nods, pulling off his oven mittens and leaning on the counter beside you. “He’s scared, you know. Seungmin’s not the type to fall easily. But when he does? He falls hard. And when someone gets close, he holds on with everything he has.” His voice is soft, but certain. “He’s not good with words like that. But he’s trying. I know he is.”

Your throat tightens, and before you can stop yourself, the tears come.

“I know he loves me, I can feel it in the way he acts, the way he looks at me,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I just… I need to hear it. Words matter to me. They always have.”

Felix reaches for a tissue and hands it to you wordlessly, letting you cry without making it feel dramatic. He then embraces you, whispering "We all love you" into your ear, reminding you how much you mean to their group. Not just Seungmin. Then, as if on cue, the front door creaks open.

You freeze.

Seungmin’s voice calls out casually from the hallway, “Felix? I left my charger—”

And then he sees you—eyes red, shoulders trembling, face turning away.

You don’t give him a chance to say anything. You’re out the door before he can take a step closer, leaving the smell of cookies and unspoken feelings behind.

Confession No.5 - Bang Chan

You’ve never felt quite this heavy leaving work. The rehearsal schedules were brutal today, and Seungmin barely looked at you during the debrief. Not out of malice, but distance—a carefully placed wall you can’t seem to get through anymore. You told him you loved him. Weeks ago. And he still hasn’t said it back.

You hear footsteps catching up behind you in the parking lot, and you already know who it is before he says anything.

“Hey,” Bang Chan says, offering a warm smile as he falls into step beside you. “I figured I’d walk you out.”

You smile back, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

He doesn’t say anything at first, letting the silence settle gently between you. When you reach your car, he leans against the door and folds his arms across his chest, looking up at the night sky like he’s thinking through a thousand words before choosing the right ones.

“You’ve become… really important to us,” he says at last. “To all of us. But especially to Seungmin.”

You blink, not expecting him to go there so directly.

“He’s scared,” Chan continues, gaze steady now. “Scared because what he feels for you is big. Bigger than anything he’s felt before. And Seungmin isn’t used to that. He’s not the type to say ‘I love you’ lightly. He’s the type to mean it so much, it paralyzes him.”

You exhale slowly, pressing your fingers to your temple. “I’m not asking him to be someone he’s not. I just—needed something. Anything. To know we’re not just… stuck.”

Bang Chan’s voice softens. “You’re not stuck. You’re building something. And I know it’s not easy when you speak different love languages. But trust me—he hears you. He sees you. And he loves you, even if he hasn’t said it yet.”

You don’t realize your eyes are watering until he pulls you into a quick, reassuring hug—the kind that feels like family.

“We all love you, by the way,” he murmurs. “Even if that guy is being his typical emotionally constipated self. And if he somehow messes this up…” He pulls back and grins. “We’re keeping you anyway.”

That makes you laugh, even through your tears. A small sound. A spark of something hopeful.

+1 Confession No. 6 - Seungmin

Seungmin had always thought love was supposed to be quiet. Comfortable. Easy. Something that slides into your life unnoticed and stays without needing much from you. He’d seen it in his parents, in a few of his friends, in books and movies where the feelings were loud, but the foundation was steady.

But then there was you.

And suddenly, love wasn’t quiet.

It was terrifying. A loud, messy thing that threatened to unravel all the careful walls he’d built for himself.

At first, he told himself it was fine—more than fine. You made him laugh like no one else. You were good to him. You were good for him. But then came the weight of it: the way you looked at him like he hung the stars, the way you said “I love you” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And he couldn’t say it back.

Not because he didn’t feel it—but because he did. Too much. Too deeply. Too dangerously.

He couldn’t sleep tonight, even though his body ached from the day’s schedule. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the sound of Felix’s soft snoring doing nothing to quiet the noise in his head.

You had cried in Felix’s kitchen. He heard it. He saw it. And when you ran past him, your shoulders curled in on yourself, he felt his entire world shatter a little more.

You weren’t drifting away from him. He was pushing you.

All because of fear.

Fear of what being with him would do to you—an idol’s life wasn’t designed for softness. For midnight phone calls, or spontaneous weekend trips, or even the comfort of privacy. Loving him meant carrying the weight of shadows, secrets, scrutiny. It meant living with uncertainty and restraint.

And yet, what scared him more than all that… Was the idea of losing you.

So he gets up. Puts on a hoodie. Slips out of the dorm into the quiet night air. His heart hammers against his ribs the entire cab ride to your apartment, his thoughts spiraling in every direction.

What if you’re asleep? What if it’s too late? What if you don’t want to see him?

But when the elevator dings and he finds himself outside your door, his fingers hesitate only a second before he knocks.

You open the door seconds later, wrapped in a loose sweater, your eyes wide with confusion and a soft thread of worry. “Seungmin?”

He doesn’t speak at first. He just steps inside, gently closing the door behind him. And when he turns to face you, his breath catches.

You look like safety.

And he’s never needed it more.

“I’m sorry,” he says first, voice hoarse. “I should’ve come sooner. I should’ve said it sooner.”

You blink at him, uncertain. “Said what?”

He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. “I’m not good with words. Which is stupid, because they’re literally my job. But when it comes to you, I never know how to say what I’m feeling without sounding like a complete idiot.”

Your lips part to respond, but he holds up a hand, trying to keep the dam from breaking too soon.

“I didn’t say it back that night,” he continues, stepping closer, “not because I didn’t mean it. But because I meant it too much. And I was scared. Scared that I’d ruin you. That being with me would make your life harder, lonelier, more complicated.”

Your breath hitches.

“But the truth is,” he whispers, voice cracking, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And it kills me that I made you feel unwanted or unloved, when the truth is—I’ve been in love with you for a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it without breaking something.”

He laughs, but it’s shaky, and his eyes are glassy now. “Turns out I broke something anyway.”

Tears stream down your cheeks before you even realize it, and you reach for him without hesitation, curling your hands into the fabric of his hoodie. “You didn’t break anything,” you say softly. “I just needed to know I wasn’t loving you alone.”

He cradles your face in his hands like you’re the most delicate thing in the world, his own tears finally falling. “You’re not. Not even close.”

The kiss that follows is slow, aching, desperate. It’s the culmination of all the words he couldn’t say until now—the soft tremble of his lips on yours, the way his hands hold you like a promise. You melt into each other, your tears mixing, but neither of you pull away.

You just breathe, together.

Wrapped in the warmth of a love that took its time—but arrived all the same.

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I dreamed that I've been to a skz concert which was just a store with ugly shirts.

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okay this is a fire ass edit

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Always Unique Totally Interesting Sometimes Mysterious (4/6)

<< nick | tori >>

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the girl ever (5/6)

<< michael | ??? >>

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Minho is river dancing in honor of Han...