❣️ As requested
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Jisung
You had never considered yourself much of a fan of physical touch. For everyone who had ever surrounded you either always kept their distance or laid too heavy a hand for you to ever truly feel comfortable.
This ideology fell like the very leaves that now flutter around you and Jisung at the park. Every shade between scarlet and amber flashes by in your peripheral vision as you direct your gaze solely at Jisung, who now holds onto a bag of seeds which he was tossing to a flock of pigeons.
You might have even classified it an accident, the way you fell into his arms for the first time and decided you never want to leave. Or the way his pinkie so nonchalantly looped around yours in a moment of quiet anxiety, when you looked back at him and found his head conveniently turned away.
Now on this serene, November day, you have the whole park bench to yourselves, yet you chose to remain so stubbornly by his side until your knees brush. And you can't help thinking about how easy it was for your body to naturally gravitate towards him and only him. It's always his warmth that you bask in, like the first sunlight after what you thought was forever winter.
It was so easy now, for your fingers to brush aside his dark bangs and peer into his eyes and then slide down to his jaw where the chill made his teeth chatter slightly. Jisung glances down at where your thumb caresses his face, and he pouts with an endearing glimmer in his eyes.
"Am I dreaming?" he says, elated. "Is my y/n making the first move for the first time or has the cold gotten to me?"
"Oh hush. Won't you just enjoy it while it lasts?" You roll your eyes - as if you too weren't flushed - and make quick work of wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck and chin. Yet it fails to obscure the giggle that morphed his mouth into the shape of a heart.
Heat blossoms from your chest at the sound, down to your fingertips as they glide into the back of Jisung's collar, to the curve of his neck. He responds by sliding his arms around your waist from inside your unbuttoned coat. Suddenly, it feels as if the birds stopped cooing for this moment, the leaves suspended in mid-air.
Jisung's eyes drop low to meet you with newfound fondness and so does his voice, "I am. In fact, I'm enjoying it so much that I never want to let go."
A smirk tugs at your lips but falters at the parading butterflies in your stomach. Screw it. What was the point of resisting anymore?
To hold the world in your hands means to hold him close, nothing short of a cold forehead pressed firmly against his. "Good," you breathed, "I wasn't planning on letting go."
Felix
Felix's touch is as soft as his heart, comforting as the aura that radiates his entire being. And yet you could never really get used to its constant presence, until you were without it.
There was hardly a time when his skin wasn't in contact with yours, whether it be your hands clasped together or his arms slung around your waist, his touch was like a second skin. But as he sits cross-legged on the living room floor in front of the TV, both hands on the console, you couldn't help the growing desire that they would lay on you instead.
From where you lay on the couch, only the wild shape of his hair bobbing up and down with excitement can be seen. But you were certain Felix has his tongue clamped between his teeth the way it always is when he concentrates.
Without much thought, you reach out and lace your fingers through the silken strands of his hair, admiring with careful strokes across his scalp the way each strand is a slightly different gradient of blond. The way his dark roots feather out into paler shades towards the edges.
Each delicate brush elicits a low hum from Felix, who seems to melt under your touch even as he continues gaming. An idea pops into your head when you glance at the hair ties on your wrist, and without any protest from him, you begin to gather his hair into two sides.
"y/n?" he calls.
"Yes?"
"You are so lucky I'm not on video call right now." A teasing tone slips into the end of his statement as he twists around to look at you.
"Aww, why not?" you whine as you finish your handiwork, two lopsided pigtails on Felix's head. "You don't want your friends to see all what a good job I did with your hair?"
He snatches one of your wrists and brings it down to his lips. His voice was hot against your skin when he murmured, "That's not what I'm talking about."
Your heart immediately jumps to your throat, certain that Felix can feel your pulse quicken beneath his grasp. "I just... wanted your attention," you admit. "I may or may not be missing your hugs."
Felix smirks at the maddening blush on your cheeks and plants a kiss on the underside of your wrist. His lips linger over the sensitive area for just a moment longer, then he raises his eyebrow at you. "So my 50 hugs a day aren't enough?"
You pretend to think hard about this with a finger tapping your chin and then say thoughtfully, "Hmm, I just counted and I only got 49 today." Your arms swing open. "You've been slacking off, Felix."
A giggle escaped his lips before he gets up and practically tumbles into you. Even through the sweaters hugging both your bodies, you can feel the soft rhythm of his heart pressed warmly against yours. You fail to recall being this clingy with anyone else, but Felix made it the easiest thing in the world.
Seungmin
On this perfectly sunlit Sunday morning, the usually chirping birds were silent, for even they dare not disturb the melody rising from the kitchen where Seungmin stood. As you stepped down the corridor with soft, socked footsteps, you could hear his voice floating down the hall along the golden rays of light.
"I'll stay here always," was what he was singing when you stepped into the kitchen.
A ruffled head of brown hair and oversized sweater were what you saw first, his back turned to you as he was appeared to be working the coffee machine. His head was tilted slightly upwards towards the window as he usually did when he sang to himself.
You almost felt bad for interrupting, but there was little you could do to resist the urge to wrap your arms around him from behind and hold tight. He was surprised only for a moment before laying his hands over the ones you clasped around his waist.
You must have stayed for at least another minute when Seungmin turned around and presented a steaming mug. "Here's your morning coffee," he said.
You flashed him a gigantic smile and murmured against the fabric of his sweater, "Thank you."
"I'll have breakfast ready in a little bit," he added but raised a quizzical eyebrow at the way you didn't reach for the mug. "You're not gonna wait on the couch and watch TV?"
"No, not this time," you insisted with puffed cheeks. "I feel like clinging to you like this until you're done."
He chuckled and set the mug down, before inching his way to the stove so that you wouldn't topple over. "This is new. I could get used to this," he commented with a smile in his revealing utter euphoria, and dropped an apron over his head.
"Yeah, you'd better." You tied the straps of the apron with a secure bow and returned to your previous position.
The rest of the morning was spent with you right by his side as Seungmin worked on breakfast, occasionally feeding you a spoon as he worked when he could feel your stomach rumble. At your request, he picked up another song to accompany the sizzling of the stove.
And if there were ever a perfect moment, it would be this: Seungmin singing softer than you had ever heard, a smile obvious, bodies so close that you could feel the gentle thrum of his voice.
Jeongin
One look. Dark room. The sunrise peaks through shyly behind the curtains as if afraid to disturb the scene. You and Jeongin, chest to chest, with your arms wrapped snugly around each other under the covers. A steady inhale but a shaky exhale because you were afraid he could tell you were awake.
But of course, he can.
"(Y/N)," he whispers by your ear. "I have to go to work."
You keep your eyes shut, nose scrunched at your foiled facade. "Just a little longer," you plead, burying your face in the sheets.
Being two usually reserved people, such unabashed, intimate moments came few and far between. Yet in your sleep, you both found your way to the warmth of each other. Even more than the sheer bliss you feel right now is regret for not having attempted this before. You spend a brief moment grieving every passing moment before this that you didn't spend in his arms.
You might have even excused it as a search for heat in the cold of night, rather than anything else. But right now, you feel there is no need for thinly veiled theatrics.
As if he heard your thoughts, he says, "If you keep at this then I'm never going to leave." An overdramatised sigh suggests he wasn't altogether against it.
"Then don't." Under the sheets, you lace your fingers through his and pressed tight. "Don't leave me too."
At this, he leans back and holds up your chin with his other hand. A fierce look seizes his eyes despite the early morning hours, but soft around the edges and crinkled with worry. "You don't have to ask, y/n. I'm here to stay. And if you ever feel like you want to hold onto me like this again, you don't have to wait until bed for it either."
He finishes with a big small revealing one of his dimples as his hand moves to cup your cheek. He says in a low, quiet voice as if just the two of you existed, "We don't have to be afraid anymore, okay?"
Afraid. This fear that getting close to someone means they can hold you all while hurting you, forever afraid of the indelible scar that would be left should you choose to eliminate all distance.
And yet, he might be the first you ever chose to let hold you like this. You never knew he felt the same way.
"Okay," you whisper in the little distance between you two. Whether you stayed for a few minutes or a few lifetimes, you can't tell. All you knew was that for once, you weren't afraid.