The members were in the middle of rehearsing when you stepped onto the stage in the BbokAri costume, waving your little yellow wings. The second they saw you, the laughter started immediately. “Wait—BbokAri’s here?!” Han shouted, already giggling as Felix clapped his hands excitedly. You gave a playful bow and tried to do a little dance, but the oversized feet of the costume weren’t exactly built for coordination. One wrong step backward and you lost your balance completely, landing flat on your back with a soft thud. For a second, everyone froze—then the entire group burst out laughing. “BbokAri’s down!” Hyunjin yelled between laughs. Felix, still smiling, jogged over without missing a beat. “Hang on, hang on—our baby chick needs help,” he said, crouching down beside you. “You okay in there?” You nodded from inside the costume, your voice muffled as you laughed. Felix grinned, offering his hands and gently pulling you back up onto your feet, steadying you by the shoulders so you wouldn’t fall again. “There we go—safe and sound,” he said, brushing imaginary dust off the fluffy suit. The other members cheered and clapped, making the whole thing even more ridiculous. “Hero of the day: Felix!” Han announced dramatically, and Felix just laughed, shaking his head. “Nah,” he said with that soft smile of his, “BbokAri did all the work.” He gave the costume a light pat on the head before heading back to his spot. You could still hear him quietly say as he passed, “Good job, my chick,” in that calm, reassuring voice that made you smile inside the mascot suit.

The chaos started right away — Hyunjin was screaming about getting shampoo in his eye, Han was laughing so hard he dropped his towel, and Chan was trying (and failing) to keep everyone organized. The staff’s “hair washing challenge” quickly turned into pure SKZ energy. “Okay, next up—Felix’s turn!” someone announced, and Felix beamed before realizing his original partner had been swapped… for you. “Oh? You’re washing my hair?” he asked, smiling shyly as he sat down in the chair with a towel around his shoulders. “You can be gentle, yeah? I’ve got sensitive quokka skin,” he joked, making everyone laugh. The second you started running warm water through his hair though, the noise around him began to fade. Felix tilted his head slightly back, eyes fluttering shut, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Whoa,” he mumbled, voice low, “that actually feels… really good.” The other members immediately pounced — Changbin pointing, laughing, “Why’s he making that face like he’s in a spa commercial?” Han chimed in, “He’s too comfortable! Wake him up!” But Felix didn’t move, just laughed quietly, cheeks turning pink as he whispered, “I think I’m staying right here.” You couldn’t help but giggle, fingers gently massaging shampoo through his hair, and the calmness on his face was so rare it made everyone melt. When you finally rinsed and towel-dried his hair, it was soft and fluffy — basically Felix’s dream aesthetic. He hopped up, bowing dramatically. “Okay, I’m giving five stars—no, six stars—to my stylist,” he said with that bright grin. The others groaned playfully, and Han yelled, “He’s only saying that ‘cause he’s in love!” Felix laughed so hard his damp hair fell into his eyes before flashing the camera one last smile. “Best Talker episode ever,” he said — and honestly, no one disagreed.

You’d barely sat down at the table before Han was already halfway through his plate. “Slow down!” you laughed, watching him shovel in another bite, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk mid-snack. He tried to answer, but all you heard was a muffled “mmph—so good!” through a mouthful of food. You snorted, reaching for a napkin to dab the sauce from the corner of his lips. “You’re literally going to choke,” you said, shaking your head. He looked up at you with wide eyes, cheeks still full, and you swear you could hear the tiny squeak in your brain — he looked like a cartoon quokka come to life. Finally, he swallowed and leaned back with a dramatic sigh of satisfaction. “Okay, okay, I’m done!” he announced… right before sneaking one last bite. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help laughing. “You’re impossible,” you teased. He grinned, his dimple deepening as he rested his chin in his hand. “You still love me though,” he said, tone playful but soft. You smirked. “Only because you’re cute when you eat like a squirrel.” He gasped in mock offense before bursting out laughing, reaching across the table to steal one of your fries. “Fine,” he said between giggles, “then you’re the nut I’m saving for later.”

You knew something was up the moment you heard a loud thud followed by a very dramatic, “I’m fine! Totally fine!” from the kitchen. You walked in to find Jeongin standing frozen, holding a bowl upside down — cookie dough dripping down his arm — with flour dusting his hair like fresh snow. “...Do I even want to know what happened?” you asked, trying not to laugh. He blinked at you, cheeks flushed pink. “The bowl slipped! I tried to catch it but… uh…” He gestured to the flour-covered floor, and you couldn’t hold it in anymore — you burst out laughing. “You look like a confused snowman,” you said between giggles, and that made him start laughing too, even as he tried to wipe his face with the back of his hand (which only made things worse). “Okay, okay— don’t move,” you said, grabbing a towel to help clean him up. But before you could even reach him, Jeongin managed to bump the counter and knock over the bag of sugar. It poured out like a mini avalanche, and both of you just stared for a second before he groaned, “I swear the kitchen’s out to get me.” You were laughing so hard by then you could barely breathe, tears forming in your eyes. Finally, he grinned, brushing sugar off his sweater and shrugging. “Well,” he said with a proud little smile, “at least I made something sweet.”

It started with I.N showing up at your door with that signature grin — the one that’s just a little too confident to be innocent. “I got bored,” he said, holding up two cups of bubble tea. “So I thought, maybe you’d want some company.” You laughed, letting him in, and soon the two of you were sprawled on the couch, watching a movie neither of you were actually paying attention to. Every few minutes, he’d toss a popcorn kernel toward your mouth, missing every single time, then pretending it was your fault. “You’ve got bad aim,” you teased. “You’ve got bad catching skills,” he shot back, that dimple appearing when he tried not to smile. When the credits rolled, you found yourselves in a comfortable quiet — that kind that feels like a secret between two people who just get each other. I.N leaned his head against the back of the couch, eyes half-lidded, voice soft. “You know…” he murmured, “you always make boring days feel like something special.” His words made your chest flutter, and you nudged him lightly. “You’re just saying that ‘cause I let you finish my bubble tea.” He grinned, finally meeting your eyes, a spark of mischief there. “Maybe,” he said. “But mostly ‘cause it’s true.”

The kitchen smelled almost right — chocolatey, sweet, but maybe a little too smoky. You and Felix exchanged a look as the timer went off, his freckles crinkling with worry. “Uh-oh,” he murmured, peeking into the oven. A wave of burnt sugar smell hit the both of you, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “No way… they’re crispy brownies!” you joked, clutching your stomach as Felix stared at the tray like it had betrayed him. “I swear, I followed the recipe exactly,” he said, pouting dramatically before glancing at you — and that pout didn’t last long. The corners of his lips lifted, his soft laugh bubbling up until you were both giggling uncontrollably. When he finally set the tray down, Felix nudged your shoulder with a playful grin. “Maybe we’re just inventing a new dessert,” he said. “Charcoal brownies — limited edition.” You rolled your eyes, still laughing as he picked up a crumb and pretended to taste it like a professional chef. “Mmm… tastes like failure,” he announced, and that only made you laugh harder. The sound filled the kitchen, warm and unbothered, until Felix leaned close, his voice turning gentle. “Honestly,” he said, smiling that sunshine smile, “I don’t care how they turned out. I just like making a mess with you.”

The room had fallen into that hushed hour when everything outside seems to hold its breath. Only the glow from the window spilled across the bed, painting Hyunjin’s skin in silver. You were lying face to face, inches apart, the world shrinking down to shared warmth and quiet breathing. When he spoke, it was barely a sound. “Stay awake with me,” he whispered. “I don’t want the night to end yet.” His hand brushed against yours, hesitant at first, then certain — fingers linking as though to promise he wouldn’t drift away. The faint smile that followed was small, almost shy, but it softened his whole expression. You traced the outline of his wrist with your thumb, feeling the steady rhythm there, a heartbeat that somehow matched your own. “You always look calm when it’s dark,” you murmured. His eyes met yours, tired but full of that unspoken fondness that didn’t need words. “It’s because you’re here,” he said. “When it’s quiet, I remember that I’m not alone.” He pressed his forehead lightly to yours; the gesture was simple, but it said everything — safety, trust, the peace of being completely known. The city lights outside dimmed one by one, and his voice came softer still, almost a breath. “Even when it all fades, I’ll still find you in the dark.”

The door creaked open, and instead of the usual confident “I’m home,” you were greeted with a dramatic groan. Lee know shuffled in, his shoulders slumped and his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “It’s not fair,” he mumbled, dropping his bag by the door and kicking off his shoes. “They make me work so hard… and then you weren’t even here when I wanted cuddles.” His words were childish, but the way he trudged toward you and immediately wrapped his arms around your waist made your heart melt. His face buried into your chest as he let out another exaggerated whine, clearly basking in the comfort only you could give. You laughed softly, threading your fingers through his messy hair. “My poor baby,” you teased, but he only tightened his hold, mumbling something incoherent against you. Pulling back just enough to look at you, he gave you the most pitiful puppy eyes you’d ever seen. “Don’t laugh at me,” he pouted, “I just want to be taken care of sometimes, y’know?” The raw honesty in his voice peeked through the playfulness, and you pressed a kiss to his forehead in response. His pout eased into a soft smile, and with a content sigh, he whispered, “See? That’s all I needed. Just you.”

The door clicked open, and Bang Chan shuffled in, shoulders heavy from the long day. He started to call out for you, but the lights flickered on, and his voice caught in his throat. Streamers hung from the ceiling, a cake sat glowing with candles on the table, and photos of your favorite memories together lined the walls. You stepped forward, beaming, and softly sang, “Happy Birthday, Channie.” For a moment, all he could do was blink, his lips parting as if he wasn’t sure this was real. “You… you did all this? For me?” he murmured, eyes glassy with surprise. Guiding him toward the table, you pointed out the photos one by one, reminding him of the laughter, the little milestones, the love woven into each moment. Chan listened in silence, his hand clutching yours tightly, as though grounding himself. Finally, he let out a shaky laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. But before you could argue, he pulled you against his chest, burying his face in your hair. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Best birthday ever… because it’s with you.” His lips pressed against your forehead, and for the first time that day, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lift.

The door creaked open, and instead of the usual confident “I’m home,” you were greeted with a dramatic groan. Han shuffled in, his shoulders slumped and his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “It’s not fair,” he mumbled, dropping his bag by the door and kicking off his shoes. “They make me work so hard… and then you weren’t even here when I wanted cuddles.” His words were childish, but the way he trudged toward you and immediately wrapped his arms around your waist made your heart melt. His face buried into your chest as he let out another exaggerated whine, clearly basking in the comfort only you could give. You laughed softly, threading your fingers through his messy hair. “My poor baby,” you teased, but he only tightened his hold, mumbling something incoherent against you. Pulling back just enough to look at you, he gave you the most pitiful puppy eyes you’d ever seen. “Don’t laugh at me,” he pouted, “I just want to be taken care of sometimes, y’know?” The raw honesty in his voice peeked through the playfulness, and you pressed a kiss to his forehead in response. His pout eased into a soft smile, and with a content sigh, he whispered, “See? That’s all I needed. Just you.”

The rain came out of nowhere, sheets of water cascading down as you and Jisung sprinted for cover under the small bus stop awning. Both of you were dripping, your hair plastered to your forehead, but Jisung immediately put on a show, groaning dramatically as he wrung out his hoodie. “This is it,” he sighed, plopping onto the bench like a man defeated. “We’re stranded forever. Guess we’ll have to survive on vending machine snacks and rainwater.” His exaggerated pout made you laugh, and his grin widened at the sound, proud that he’d pulled it from you even in the chilly drizzle. The laughter faded into a comfortable silence, the steady rhythm of the rain filling the space around you. Jisung fidgeted with the strings of his hoodie, stealing little glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking. Finally, with a nervous chuckle, he blurted out, “You know… I don’t really mind being stuck here.” His voice was softer now, honest in a way that made your heart skip. “If it means I get to be with you like this.” He looked down, chewing his lip before meeting your eyes again, his smile small and a little shaky. “I think I’ve liked you for a lot longer than I’ve been brave enough to admit.” The rain poured on, but in that moment, the only thing you could hear was the thundering of your own heartbeat.

The dorm living room was a mess of blankets, pillows, and half-empty snack bags, but it was perfect—because all eight boys were crammed in for movie night with you. Bang Chan had insisted he’d “stay awake to keep things organized,” but not even thirty minutes in, he was already asleep with his head in your lap, mumbling a little whiny protest whenever you shifted. Minho sat nearby, pretending to be uninterested, but you caught him draping the softest blanket over your shoulders when he thought you weren’t looking—though he quickly ruined the sweetness by giving you a cheeky pinch and smirking. Changbin made a whole production out of carrying every snack from the kitchen in one trip, only to blush when you told him he was “so strong.” Across the room, Hyunjin clutched the popcorn bowl to his chest until you pouted at him, and with dramatic flair, he dropped to one knee and presented it to you like a knight serving his queen. The chaos didn’t stop there—Jisung had turned the movie into his personal comedy routine, making random comments that had you laughing so hard your stomach hurt, his grin widening with every giggle he earned. Meanwhile, Felix had nestled in at your side, his warm hand slipping into yours as he whispered in that deep, husky voice, “Comfy?”—and once your fingers intertwined, he never let go. Seungmin teased you mercilessly for flinching at the jump scares, rolling his eyes with a smug grin, but the next moment, he was tilting his shoulder toward you in quiet invitation. And Jeongin—determined to prove he wasn’t the “baby” anymore—ended up clutching your arm during a suspenseful scene, making everyone burst out laughing. The night ended in true Stray Kids fashion: with all of them bickering over who got to sit closest to you, until Chan’s sleepy voice cut through the noise, his head still on your lap. “They can argue all they want,” he murmured with a little smile. “You’re mine.”

The door creaked open, and instead of the usual confident “I’m home,” you were greeted with a dramatic groan. Bang Chan shuffled in, his shoulders slumped and his bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “It’s not fair,” he mumbled, dropping his bag by the door and kicking off his shoes. “They make me work so hard… and then you weren’t even here when I wanted cuddles.” His words were childish, but the way he trudged toward you and immediately wrapped his arms around your waist made your heart melt. His face buried into your chest as he let out another exaggerated whine, clearly basking in the comfort only you could give. You laughed softly, threading your fingers through his messy hair. “My poor baby,” you teased, but he only tightened his hold, mumbling something incoherent against you. Pulling back just enough to look at you, he gave you the most pitiful puppy eyes you’d ever seen. “Don’t laugh at me,” he pouted, “I just want to be taken care of sometimes, y’know?” The raw honesty in his voice peeked through the playfulness, and you pressed a kiss to his forehead in response. His pout eased into a soft smile, and with a content sigh, he whispered, “See? That’s all I needed. Just you.”

The day had clearly worn him down; Seungmin sat slouched on the couch, his usual sharp wit dulled into silence. You joined him quietly, slipping beside him until his shoulder brushed yours. He tried to wave you off with a small shake of his head, but you weren’t going to let him hide behind that mask tonight. Tilting your head, you caught his gaze and said softly, “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know. I can see when something’s weighing on you.” His lips pressed into a thin line, as if he didn’t want to admit it, but the way his shoulders sagged told you he was grateful for your presence. Reaching for his hand, you gave it a gentle squeeze. “You know what always makes me feel better?” you asked, your tone light but full of sincerity. “Seeing you smile. It’s… beautiful, Seungmin. Honestly, I think it’s one of the most comforting things in the world.” His cheeks flushed faintly at your words, and though he tried to look away, a small, reluctant grin tugged at his lips. You leaned closer, pressing your forehead lightly to his. “There it is,” you whispered, smiling back at him. “That’s the smile I love. Don’t forget how much light you bring just by being you.” And for the first time that night, his quiet chuckle filled the room, soft and genuine — just for you.

You bent down to peek into the fridge, humming to yourself as you debated what snack to grab, when suddenly—smack! You yelped and nearly hit your head on the door, spinning around to see Minho already grinning like he’d won a game. “What? Don’t look at me like that,” he teased, eyes sparkling with mischief. “You were sticking it out on purpose, weren’t you?” He leaned casually against the counter, arms folded, clearly waiting for your reaction. The smug little smirk on his face made it obvious—he lived for these moments, for getting under your skin in the most ridiculous ways. You huffed and tried to brush past him, but he was faster, catching your wrist and pulling you right into his space. “Ohhh, don’t act shy now,” he drawled, tilting his head with that signature catlike grin. “I barely did anything, and look at you—completely flustered.” He leaned closer, just enough to make your heartbeat jump, his laughter soft but wicked. “You’re way too fun to tease,” he added, tapping your nose playfully. Then, his voice dropped, the mischief softening just a little. “But the best part?” His lips curved into a smile as he whispered, “You only let me get away with it.” With a chuckle, he released your hand, smug as ever. “Face it—you love your personal menace.”

The room was quiet, the kind of silence that felt thick with tension, every second stretching a little too long. You sat across from Felix, but he wasn’t even trying to hide the way his eyes lingered on you — steady, dark, unreadable. His usual sunshine smile was gone, replaced with something heavier, something that made your heartbeat quicken. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, that deep rumble that always sent shivers down your spine. “Do you feel it too?” he murmured, leaning forward ever so slightly. “This… pull between us. It’s driving me crazy.” He shifted closer, every movement deliberate, his gaze never leaving yours. The air felt hotter, your breath catching as he closed the distance. “I’ve been trying to hold back,” he admitted, his tone velvet and husky, brushing the words against your ear. “But when it’s just us… I can’t.” His hand hovered near yours, not touching, just teasing, waiting. His lips curved into the faintest smirk as he whispered, “Tell me not to… and I’ll stop. But if you don’t—” he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin— “I’ll show you exactly how much I want you.”

You stood up from the couch, stretching as you announced you were heading to bed, but a loud, exaggerated whine immediately filled the room. Changbin sat up, his cheeks puffed out and lips pressed into a deep pout. “Already? Nooo… you’re abandoning me,” he huffed, crossing his arms like a sulky child. When you laughed, he only leaned forward to tug at your sleeve, refusing to let go. “Just five more minutes,” he pleaded, his big eyes looking up at you with a mix of stubbornness and desperation. For someone so strong and confident on stage, he was the complete opposite here—your soft little bbg, begging not to be left alone. The second you sat back down, his pout melted into a triumphant grin. He instantly scooted closer, resting his head against your shoulder and nuzzling in like he belonged there. “See? You can’t say no to me,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your shirt but still full of satisfaction. He wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging like you might disappear at any second. Then, in a quieter tone, almost shy, he added, “I know I act all tough, but with you… I just want to be soft. I just want to be your baby.” He pulled you tighter, his pout returning as he whispered, “So promise you won’t leave me, okay? Stay right here. Forever.”

The door swung open with a burst of energy, and Han appeared with the biggest grin plastered across his face. “Did you miss me?” he asked dramatically, even though he’d only been gone for a few minutes. Without waiting for an answer, he plopped down beside you on the couch, his laughter bubbling like it couldn’t be contained. His cheeks were round with his smile, his eyes sparkling, and he nudged your arm playfully. “I swear, I’m basically a quokka,” he declared proudly. “Look at me—smiley, round cheeks, and happiest when I’m next to you.” His enthusiasm was so contagious you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as he leaned in closer, clearly pleased with himself. Han continued to chatter, filling the room with his goofy charm, from silly impressions to exaggerated declarations of how much you must secretly adore him. But then, in between his antics, he paused, tilting his head to watch you with a softer expression. The quokka smile was still there, but gentler now, more tender. “You know,” he said quietly, “if quokkas are the happiest animals in the world… then I’m even happier. Because I get to be here, with you.” He snuggled against your shoulder, his playful energy giving way to warmth, before adding in a whisper, “So yeah, you’re stuck with your personal quokka forever.”

The afternoon sunlight spilled gently through the curtains as you lounged on the couch, half lost in your thoughts. The quiet was suddenly broken by the sound of footsteps, and a moment later, I.N appeared in the doorway with a mischievous grin and a bag of snacks. “Wow… this is what you’re doing with your day? Just lying here?” he teased, his tone playful but his eyes warm. Without waiting for an invitation, he plopped down beside you, nudging your shoulder with his. The couch dipped under his weight, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the way he immediately made himself comfortable, like he belonged there. He ripped open the bag of snacks and held one up dramatically. “Say ‘ah,’” he ordered, trying to feed you in the most ridiculous way possible, his laughter bubbling when you rolled your eyes. Every little attempt he made to make you laugh was successful — because that was just who he was with you: light, easy, comforting. After a moment, his teasing quieted, and his voice softened. “You know… I don’t care if we’re out doing something exciting or just sitting here,” he admitted, glancing at you with a shy smile. “As long as it’s with you, it’s my favorite place to be.” He leaned back against the cushions, smirking again to cover the softness he’d just let slip. “So, yeah… you’re stuck with me. And honestly? I like it that way.”

The room was quiet except for the faint sound of a video still playing on your phone. You had dozed off on the couch, the screen glowing softly with a Stray Kids clip — and of course, I.N was front and center, laughing and moving across the stage. The door creaked open, and a moment later, he appeared in the doorway. His eyes immediately caught the screen, and a smirk tugged at his lips as he realized what you had fallen asleep watching. “Really?” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with amusement. He walked closer, crouching down beside you, his smirk never fading. “Even when you’re asleep, you’re watching me,” he whispered, his voice teasing but warm. Carefully, he slipped the phone from your hand and set it aside before pulling a blanket over your shoulders. For a moment, he just looked at you, the edge of his grin softening into something gentler. “Sleep well,” he murmured, brushing a stray hair from your face. “I’ll be here when you wake up.” With that, he settled into the chair beside the couch, the faintest trace of pride in his expression — as if he’d just caught you keeping a secret you didn’t mean to reveal.