jeonginnn

Chan groaned, sliding further down the wall until he was basically sitting on the floor. “You always say that. And then you can’t lift your arms tomorrow and whine at me for an hour.”

Felix, who had finished his own sets ages ago and was now perched cross-legged on top of the unused cable machine like some kind of golden retriever gargoyle, snorted.

His hair was still damp, blonde strands sticking to his forehead, but his energy hadn’t flagged at all. If anything, he looked brighter now that he’d had time to cool down and watch the other two slowly implode.

He stood up slowly. Stretched like a cat. And then padded over on silent feet.

Changbin was still admiring his reflection, turning slightly to check his rear lat spread, completely oblivious.

Chan rubbed his face with both hands. “Binnie. Seriously. Your arms are shaking.”

“They’re not.”

“They literally are.”

Felix didn’t announce himself.

He simply reached out, quick as a snake, and poked two fingers straight into the soft, vulnerable hollow of Changbin’s armpit.

The squeal that tore out of Changbin was high, startled, and embarrassingly loud.

“YAHH—!”

His whole body jerked like he’d been electrocuted. Arms snapped down instinctively, shoulders hunching, trying to protect the spot, but it was too late. Felix was already grinning like the devil himself.

Changbin’s head whipped toward him. “Hyung. No.”

Chan pushed off the wall, rolling his shoulders like he was warming up for a completely different kind of workout. “One more thing before we go,” He announced, voice deceptively calm. “You wanted more, right?”

“I changed my mind,” Changbin said immediately, already backing up. “I’m good. I’m great. Home time. Time for Binnie to go home.”

“Too late.”

Chan moved faster than someone that tired had any right to. One second Changbin was retreating toward the dumbbell racks; the next he was being scooped under the arms, spun around, and marched backward until the backs of his knees hit the flat weight bench.

“Core workout,” Chan said, low and pleased. “One more set. You can handle it.”

Changbin squirmed immediately, heels scrabbling against the floor. “This isn’t a core workout, this is torture!”

“It’s character building.”

Felix appeared at the side of the bench, leaning one hip against the metal frame, looking down at Changbin with the kind of sweet, terrifying smile that promised absolutely no mercy.

Changbin’s eyes darted between them both. Realization dawned slowly, horribly.

“No,” he whispered. “No no no no—”

Chan tightened his grip just slightly on Changbin’s wrists, leaning down until their foreheads almost touched. “You wanted to keep going so badly,” He murmured. “So go ahead. Show us how strong you are.”

Felix wiggled his fingers in the air above Changbin’s ribs, watching his hyung's face go from nervous to horrified in four seconds flat.

And then Felix struck.

The last thing Chan heard before the gym filled with helpless, hysterical laughter was Changbin’s broken, pleading.

“NOT THERE, NOT THERE, NOT THEHEHEHEHERE!” Changbin wails, Felix's hands clawing up and down his sides, sometimes dipping to those soft obliques, then down to the squishy parts of his hips.

Changbin thrashed.

His legs kicked uselessly, heels scraping the rubber floor, knees jerking up toward his chest only to be blocked by Chan’s weight pinning him down. His wrists twisted in Chan’s iron grip, shoulders straining, biceps flexing hard against nothing as he tried to curl in on himself.

But there was nowhere to go.

Chan laughed low above him, breathless and fond. “Look at that. Mr. ‘I can keep going’ is already crying.”

"IHIHIHIM NOT CRYING!! SHUHUHUT UP!!"

It dissolved into giggles so high and frantic they sounded almost like hiccups. His abs jumped and shuddered under Felix’s hands, every muscle quivering violently as he tried to twist away.

The harder he fought, the more his obliques betrayed him—those deep, carved lines that he’d just been admiring in the mirror minutes ago now turned into his worst enemy.

Felix was merciless.

He dug in with gentle, scratching nails right along the shadowed groove of Changbin’s left oblique, then raked slowly upward toward his ribs. Changbin howled—actually howled—head thrown back against the bench, throat bared, tears already gathering at the corners of his squeezed-shut eyes.

"IHIHIHIT'S NOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHAIR!! I CAHAHAHAHAHAN'T!!"

Chan tilted his head, pretending to consider. “Hmm. You were so excited about extra core work earlier. Thought you wanted to push your limits.”

"I TAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIT ALL BAHAHAHACK!! Pleheheheheasee!!" Binnie stammered, throwing out words in English hoping they'd stop. "BIHIHINNIE IS DYING!!"

Both Chan and Felix burst into laughter, Lix slowing slightly because he had to grip Chan's hand to keep from topping over himself. "Cuteeee!!" He crowed.

Chan finally released his wrists. Changbin’s arms flopped down immediately, too weak to do anything but lie there. He curled onto his side with a groan, hugging himself, still giggling faintly even though nothing was touching him anymore.

“Evil,” he mumbled again into his own bicep. “Both of you. Evil.”

Chan ruffled his damp hair, grinning. “You did great, Binnie. Best core workout of the week.”

“I hate you,” Changbin whispered. But the tiny, exhausted smile tugging at his lips gave him away completely.

Felix poked him once more—just once, very lightly, right in the soft spot under his ribs.

Changbin squeaked, flinched, and buried his burning face in his arms.

“Never again,” He groaned.

"Nonsense." Felix chuckled. "You're gonna come back here the second we let you out of our sight."

He burst through the door like the apartment was actively on fire.

“Jeongin!! What the hell is wrong?!”

Hair wild from the wind and the frantic drive, uniform jacket half-open, chest heaving. Eyes scanning every corner for blood, broken glass, an intruder—anything.

Jeongin was standing in the middle of the room in an oversized hoodie and basketball shorts, hair fluffy and unbrushed, looking very much alive. And very much not bleeding. Not even a little bit.

He lifted one hand in a tiny wave.

“…Hi, hyung.”

Seungmin paused, hand still on his gun, eyes scanning the room for any intruder. Nothing.

Seungmin stared.

Then dragged a gloved hand down his face so hard the leather creaked.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Jeongin at least had the decency to look a little guilty. "I saw this lip balm online. And I couldn't find it. So I called you because my hyungie should be able to pick it up for me after shift right?"

“You sent me a nine-one-one level text… for a lip balm.”

“I said please!”

“You’re unbelievable.” He groaned. “You made me think you were bleeding out. Or kidnapped. Or on fire. Or all three at once.”

In one fluid movement—years of training and probably too much pent-up frustration—Seungmin tackled Jeongin backward onto the couch. The cushions wheezed under their combined weight.

Jeongin’s arms flailed for half a second before Seungmin caught both wrists in one large, gloved hand and pinned them above his head against the armrest. The boy's eyes widening in panic. “Hyung, wait—wait wait wait!!”

Seungmin’s free hand hovered for a dramatic second, fingers flexing like a villain in a drama, then dove straight for the soft dip under Jeongin’s ribs.

The scream that ripped out of Jeongin was immediate, high-pitched, and utterly devastating.

“HYUNG NOHOHOHOHO!! NOT THEHEHEHEHERE!!” Jeongin thrashed like a fish on dry land, laughter exploding out of him in helpless waves.

Seungmin’s voice dropped into something low, teasing, almost sing-song, the exact opposite of his earlier panic. “There is a serious emergency now, Jeonginnie.” His fingers spidered up under the hoodie, scratching lightly over the sensitive skin just above Jeongin’s waistband.

“Turns out Jeonginnie is way too ticklish~ How can Innie be this ticklish?? That’s dangerous. That’s a public safety hazard. I should probably arrest you for it.”

"PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! IHIHIHIHIM SOHOHOHOHHORRYYY!!" Jeongin howled. It came out more like a whine.

Seungmin skittered one hand right into the crease between his shoulder and neck, cooing at how Innie folded, giggling so hard, squirming in place as he tugged frantically at the officer's grip.

“Aww, listen to you,” Seung cooed, voice syrupy-soft and devastatingly fond. “Such pretty little giggles, Jeonginnie. You sound like you’re being murdered, but look at this face—”

His free hand came up to thumb away one of the tears sliding toward Jeongin’s temple. “—all red and shiny and smiling even when you’re begging.”

"Nohohohohhoo!! Hyuhuhuhungie COHOHOHOME OHOHOHON!! PLEHEHEHEASE!! I sahahahaid I was sohohohorryy!!" The younger stammered out, squealing as the hand travelled to his collarbones.

Seungmin tilted his head, studying him like a particularly interesting case file.

“You know what’s really dangerous?” he asked conversationally, fingers walking spider-light down Jeongin’s sides again, slow enough to make every muscle twitch in anticipation.

“The fact that you called me here on a fake emergency… wearing this big hoodie…” He tugged lightly at the hem that had ridden up to expose a strip of trembling stomach. “…with nothing underneath. That’s basically entrapment, Innie.”

Jeongin’s eyes went comically wide, even through the tears.

“I—I dihihihidn't!!”

“Didn’t think I’d notice?” Seungmin’s voice dropped lower, teasing, almost sing-song. “Didn’t think I’d want to punish my poor, helpless, ticklish little best friend for wasting police resources?”

His fingers plunged without warning—both hands now, since he’d released Jeongin’s wrists to brace himself better—digging into the softest parts of Jeongin’s waist and sides in quick, merciless squeezes.

Jeongin’s scream of laughter was so loud it bounced off the ceiling.

“HYUNGHYUNGHYUNG!! NO MOHOHOHORE—PLEASE—MEHEHERCYYYYY!!”

Jeongin’s face burned hotter—if that was even possible—and he tried to hide it in the crook of his elbow, but Seungmin just gently tugged the arm away.

“Nope. I want to see every second of this.” He leaned down until their foreheads almost touched. “Say ‘hyung, I’m too ticklish’.”

"Hyuhuhuhuhung, Ihihihi'm toohohoo tihihicklish!!" Jeongin whisper-giggled, squirming around even as Seungmin trapped his thighs with his knees.

“Louder.”

“HYUNG I’M TOOHOHOHOHOO TIHIHIHICKLISH!!”

Seungmin’s laugh was low, delighted. “That’s right you are.” And with that, he released his hold on Jeongin's wrists and let the boy curl up.

In the space of maybe three frantic heartbeats—0.3 seconds if Seungmin had been cruel enough to time it—Jeongin moved.

One second Seungmin was smugly hovering, still cooing over the mess he'd made of his best friend.

The next, the world flipped.

Jeongin hooked a leg behind Seungmin's knee, twisted his hips with surprising, explosive strength (where the hell did that come from?), and suddenly Seungmin was the one flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling in stunned disbelief. The couch cushions wheezed under the impact.

Before Seungmin could even suck in a proper breath to protest, cold metal clicked around his wrists.

Click. Click.

His own handcuffs.

Ratcheted tight, no give, the cold metal biting just enough into Seungmin’s skin to send a thrill of outrage through him.

“Jeongin-ah!” Seungmin gasped, tugging experimentally, muscles flexing under the uniform shirt. The cuffs held firm, linked to the sturdy wooden frame of the couch.

His heart hammered—not from fear, but from the sheer gall of his best friend turning his own gear against him. “You did not just—uncuff me right now!”

Jeongin’s eyes sparkled with pure mischief, leaning back to admire his handiwork. “Hyung came to my rescue, right? Best friends help no matter what.” His voice was all faux innocence, but his hands were already moving—deft fingers unbuckling the heavy police duty belt with a series of satisfying clinks.

The weight of it thudded to the floor, radio still attached, flashlight and baton rolling free. Then the shirt: buttons popped open one by one, exposing the white undershirt clinging to Seungmin’s heaving chest, the faint outline of abs tensed from the struggle.

Jeongin didn’t even hesitate.

Cool night air hit Seungmin’s bare stomach and he sucked in a breath so fast it sounded painful.

“Jeongin I swear to god if you—”

Jeongin didn’t let him finish.

He ducked down and blew the loudest, wettest, most obnoxious raspberry right into the center of Seungmin’s exposed tummy.

Seungmin’s reaction was instant.

A high-pitched yelp—borderline shriek—exploded out of him, followed immediately by full-body flailing. The cuffs rattled uselessly against the hood. His legs kicked out in wild arcs, heels frantically drumming into the bedsheets as laughter bubbled up in his throat.

"NOOOHOOHOHOOOOO!!" Seungmin wailed. "NOHOHOHOHOT AGAHAHAHHAIN!!"

"Oh, yes again." Jeongin retorted, gasping for air before ducking back down to get his belly button.

“STOOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOPPP!!” Seungmin’s voice cracked into an uncharacteristically girlish squeal. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE—JEONGIN!!”

Jeongin lifted his head just long enough to coo, eyes sparkling with pure mischief.

“What’s wrong, Seungminnie?” His voice was disgustingly sweet. “You can take a taser to the ribs during training but can’t handle a little tummy tickling? That’s so sad, hyung.”

Seungmin’s face was already scarlet, but the humiliation dialed up to eleven when Jeongin’s fingers suddenly dove for his sides.

No warning.

Just ten wicked fingertips spidering up and down the sensitive skin right over his ribs, then digging into the hollows, then skittering back to the soft stretch over his hipbones.

Seungmin cackled.

Actual, full-throated, head-thrown-back cackling. Tears were already pricking the corners of his eyes. His whole body jerked like he’d been electrocuted—only worse, because electricity at least had the decency to end.

This was endless. Relentless. Everywhere he twisted, Jeongin’s hands were already waiting. Left side? Fingers. Right side? More fingers. Stomach? Another raspberry. Waist? Evil little pinches.

"NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!!" Seungmin wailed into his arm. "IHIHIHIM DYIHIHIHIHING!!"

“Look at you. Big bad officer Kim Seungmin, completely wrecked by raspberries. I should take a picture. Frame it. Hang it in the station break room.”

“Jeongin—I swehehear to goOHOHOHOHOD!!!”

“You won’t,” Jeongin said cheerfully. “Not for a while.”

And that was when the radio crackled.

“Unit 47, this is Dispatch. Uh… everything okay over there? We’re getting… sounds.”

A beat.

Then Chan’s unmistakable voice, warm and way too amused.

“Seungmin-ah. You forgot to mute your radio again, didn’t you?”

Seungmin froze. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Jeongin's jaw dropped, and his head shot from the active radio on the floor to Seungmin's face like he was watching a tennis match.

Chan kept going, clearly grinning so wide you could hear it through the static. “Your laugh is cute, by the way. Very… youthful. Very endearing.”

A second voice—Changbin this time—cutting in with a snort. “Sounds like someone’s getting wrecked. Need backup, Seungminnie? Or should we just enjoy the show?”

Hyunjin’s softer laugh followed, lilting and evil. “I vote show. This is better than the drama channel.”

Seungmin’s face went from nuclear red to supernova. You could probably see the glow from space. His mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. No sound came out.

Jeongin blinked once.

Twice.

Then he scrambled off Seungmin so fast he almost fell off the couch.

“Okayokayokay—damage control—damage control—”

He dropped to his knees, fumbling with Seungmin’s shirt buttons, doing them up crooked in his panic. Fingers shaking. Then the undershirt. Then he grabbed the duty belt from the floor, hastily rebuckling it around Seungmin’s waist with all the grace of a startled raccoon.

Seungmin, still cuffed, still flushed to the roots of his hair, just lay there breathing hard and staring at the ceiling like he was praying for spontaneous human combustion.

Jeongin froze at the sudden movement of Seungmin's hands, still trying to scoop up the pillows that had fallen in the scuffle. "...What are you doing?"

Seungmin’s fingers—despite the cuffs—were already fumbling, twisting, working the key he kept hidden in his watch band (because of course he did, paranoid little shit).

The cuffs clicked open.

Jeongin’s survival instincts finally kicked in.

“Oh shi—” He dropped the pillows onto the bed, and bolted. "I'm going to the convenience store to get bribes!! I'LL BE BACK WHEN YOU DON'T WANNA KILL ME!!"

Seungmin sat up, grabbed the radio, and spoke in the most deadpan voice he could muster after being tickled half to death:

“…You’re all dead to me.”

Laughter exploded over the channel—Chan wheezing, Changbin cackling, Hyunjin making kissy noises. Seungmin turned the radio off. Completely.

Then he flopped back onto the couch, covered his burning face with both hands, and muttered to the empty apartment:

“I’m never answering his texts again.”

anyways i hope this was good...please give me feedback and stuff >.<

Minho wasn’t supposed to be the victim today.

He’d spent half the morning crouched over his spellbook, eyes narrowed, muttering incantations under his breath like a man possessed. Chan had earned this.

That bastard had gotten him too good two days ago. It was humiliating, honestly. He was Lee Minho—stoic, composed, untouchable...and Chan had made him scream with laughter. The memory still made his ears burn a bright red.

A simple sensitivity charm, that’s all it was supposed to be. Cast it on Chan, tickle him silly, laugh until the sun went down. Perfect.

Except the universe, as always, had other plans.

It began small. The brush of his bedsheet against his arm. He flinched. Then blinked. Then clutched his arm and hissed through clenched teeth, no way. But when he stood up, the hem of his shirt brushed his stomach—and Minho let out the tiniest squeak.

By the time he made it to breakfast, he was a wreck. Every step, every movement sent phantom tickles up his sides and down his neck. He tried to keep it together, stifling giggles into his palm, but Chan noticed almost instantly.

“…You good?” Chan asked, chewing toast, eyebrows raised. He was skeptical instantly. Minho's ears were a little too red for this early in the morning.

Minho froze mid-step. “Fine.” He said too quickly, voice trembling with the effort of composure.

Chan’s brows lifted even higher. “You’re giggling into your sleeve.”

“I’m fine!” Minho snapped, but his voice cracked halfway through the word as his own shirt brushed his ribs and he snorted. He clapped a hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking.

"Are you...laughing at me?" Chan accused, and Minho let out a helpless squeal as his shirt brushed against his side. "Nohoho!! No I'm not I swehear!"

By noon, Minho had resorted to walking around with his hands tucked under his arms, glaring at everything like the air itself had personally betrayed him. His hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed from constant effort not to laugh. And Chan—patient, curious, and far too entertained—finally decided he’d seen enough.

“Alright, spill it,” He demanded, cornering Minho by the couch. "You've been all giggly all day."

“I’m not giggling.” The denial came out strangled, because Minho had shifted, and the blanket brushed his foot. He bit his lip so hard it almost hurt, shoulders shaking.

Chan tilted his head. He knew Minho—knew his little tells, the subtle ways his composure cracked. And this was definitely cracking.

So he walked closer, slow, predatory. “You look... jumpy.”

"Dohon't you dahare..." Minho groaned, wrapping himself tighter in the blanket.

Chan reached down suspiciously, wiggling a nail against the arch of Minho's foot. Min shrieked loudly, kicking Chan's hand away, hiding his grin in his hands.

"Ohhhh, what's this?" Chan's grin turned mischievous. “You know,” He said, tone dropping into that teasing warmth that made Minho’s stomach flutter, “if you wanted me to tickle you again, you could’ve just asked.”

"It's not that!" Minho shrieked indignantly. "I....I just tried to cast a little spell." He muttered.

"A spell?" Chan echoed. Then it hit him. He froze for a beat, eyes wide in exaggerated disbelief, then drew back just enough to give Minho a look of utter mock offense—lips parted, hand pressed dramatically over his heart.

“You tried to hex me?” he gasped, tone dripping with playful betrayal. “You were going to magically make me ticklish just to get even?”

Minho, red-faced and trembling, could barely breathe. “You deserved it!! You wrecked me yester—AHAHAHA NOHOHOHOO DON’T YOU DAHAHARE!” He squealed as Chan crawled onto the couch, smile downright evil.

Minho kicked desperately, frantic with panic at the thought of being wrecked yet again. Chan grabbed his ankle and dragged Minho closer, and Minho gave up.

He went completely limp, whining as Chan straddled his thighs and pinned his arms above his head. He was too used to this.

“Chahahahan—listen—!”

“No, no, no,” Chan said, shaking his head with mock solemnity. “There must be consequences for this kind of magical misconduct.”

“Chahahahahahan, plehehehease—”

Chan raised a brow. “Oh no, no begging yet.” And with that, he lifted Minho’s shirt just enough to expose the delicate stretch of skin along his ribs—the kind that made Minho twitch just from the air hitting it—and placed both hands there with evil intent.

"Okahahay!! OKAY IM SOHOHORRY!!" Minho whined frantically. But it was too late. Because Chan had decided to start at a death spot.

The leader's thumbs rolled deep and slow circles into Minho's ribs, scolding Minho under his breath, but he was completely drowned out in seconds.

The moment Chan’s fingers touched down, Minho screamed with laughter, the kind that ripped straight out of his chest. His body jerked, twisting helplessly.

“CHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAANNN!!!” Minho shrieked, kicking his legs. “STAHAHAHAHAHAP! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!!!”

“Oh no no no,” Chan cut him off, grinning. “You don’t get to cast spells on me and walk away innocent.”

“I WAHAHAHAHASN’T thihihihinking—AHAHAHAHAHA I SWEHEHEAR!”

“Mmhm. Sure. You just accidentally turned yourself into a walking tickle machine?” Chan teased, pretending to scold. “Do you know how ridiculous you’ve been today? You laughed at your own sleeve!”

“IT TIHIHICKLED!!!” Minho screamed, thrashing as Chan dug gently into his sides. “IT’S YOUR FAULT!! YOU MADE ME GOHOHOH CRAHAHAHAZY YEHEHEHESTERDAY!!!”

Chan only chuckled, the warmth in his tone belying the teasing words. “Then maybe you shouldn’t try to hex your hyung, hm?”

Minho tried to glare, but he was laughing too hard to even form words properly. His face was pink, eyes squeezed shut, tears forming at the corners as he kicked uselessly. “IHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHO SORRYYYY!!!”

Chan smiled, eyes fond and teasing all at once. “You’re adorable when you laugh like that. So maybe it’s a fair trade.”

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT THE FUHUHUCK UHUHUHUHUHUP!!!”

“Language,” Chan teased, shifting to straddle him more securely when Minho started thrashing. He traced the outline of each rib like he was mapping them. “You tried to hex me, remember? This is pure justice.”

“THIHIHIHIS ISN’T—HAHAHAHAHAHA—JUHUHUSTICE!!! IT’S TOHOHORTURE!!!” Minho was completely gone—tears streaming down his face, his hair sticking up from thrashing, his laughter bright and broken and absolutely infectious.

Chan paused for half a second, watching him with that fond little smile that always crept in when Minho laughed too hard. “You know you’re adorable, right?”

"Shuhuhut AAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAP!!" Minho wailed as Chan resorted to stuffing his wiggling fingers right into his armpits. The poor cat was shaking his head side to side at the speed of light. "NOHOHOHOT THAT SPOHOHOHOHOT!!"

“Aw, you’re cute when you try to fight back,” Chan teased, tracing the soft skin along Minho’s ribs. “Is this what you wanted, hmm? A little more of this?”

“IT’S NOT WHAT I WANTED!!!” Minho howled, eyes squeezed shut as the tickling continued. His feet were drumming so frantically against the couch now, it was like he couldn’t control them at all. His face was a deep shade of red from the laughter, and every time Chan’s nails made contact, his laughter turned into full-body shakes.

“Not what you wanted, huh?” Chan grinned, poking him in the most sensitive spots. “Really? Because it sounds like you’re having way too much fun to me.”

"YOHUHUHURE SO MEHEHEHEAN!!"

“Correction—scientific.” Chan said, wiggling his fingers faster just to hear the pitch of Minho’s laughter jump. “I’m testing how many octaves you can hit before dogs start barking outside.”

"FUHUHUHUCK YOU HYUHUHUHUNG!!" Minho squealed at that.

"I could keep going, you know."

“YOHOHOHOU—YOU JERK!!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!!”

“Say you’ll never hex me again!”

“IHIHIHIHI NEHEHEHEVER HEX YOUHUHU AGAHAHAHAIN!!!”

Chan smirked, finally slowing down to gentle scribbles. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Minho flopped back, giggles still spilling out in helpless waves. He was breathless, hair a mess, eyes shining. Chan sat back and admired him for a moment—the way his smile crinkled his nose, the way laughter made him glow.

The room settled into a soft, comfortable silence. Minho still had his face buried in the pillow, his body half-curled into the couch as he caught his breath. His cheeks were still warm from laughing, and his heart was racing in that sweet, content way it always did after too much giggling.

Chan leaned back, resting his head on the couch, watching him with that gentle smile that always made Minho’s stomach flutter.

There was just something about the way Chan looked at him, as if he was the only thing in the room when he laughed like that, and Minho couldn’t help but let his own smile peek through, even though he was trying to pretend he wasn’t still a little embarrassed.

The world outside seemed to fall away as they just sat there, a peaceful kind of silence between them. Minho shifted slightly, his head leaning gently against Chan’s shoulder. His fingers found Chan’s hand, and he held it loosely, the small touch enough to make everything feel right.

Chan didn’t move. He just let Minho rest, his other hand brushing against his back in slow, soothing motions. Neither of them said anything, but the warmth between them spoke louder than words ever could.

It was past midnight in the dorm, and the air felt thick and heavy. Changbin was already in his pajamas, leaning against the light switch, his hand hovering over the 'off' position. He looked exhausted, rubbing his eyes for the third time.

Across the room, Jeongin was fully awake, scrolling through his phone with the screen brightness turned way up.

"Innie, seriously. Turn it off," Changbin mumbled, his voice gravelly with sleepiness. "I need to go to sleep. We have early practice."

Jeongin didn't even look up. "Five more minutes, Hyung. I’m almost done with this video. You can sleep in the light, what’s the difference?"

"The difference is I need the room completely dark to sleep, and if I turn it off, you’ll just turn it back on. Just finish up, please." Changbin flicked the switch quickly, plunging the room into darkness.

“HEY!” Jeongin yelled, jumping up and feeling for the switch. He flicked it back on just as fast. “I said five minutes!”

“I SAID I’M SLEEPY!” Changbin roared back, immediately switching it off again.

“I’M NOT SLEEPY!” Jeongin countered, turning it back on.

This cycle of clicking and yelling went on for another minute, creating a rapid series of flashes and shouts that echoed down the hallway.

Suddenly, a door slammed open. Lee Know stood in the doorway, rubbing his temples, looking like he was moments away from actual violence.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Lee Know’s voice was dangerously quiet. “It is ONE in the morning! Some of us have to sleep! What is the problem?”

Changbin instantly pointed at the youngest. “He won’t turn off the lights! I’m tired! He keeps turning them back on!”

IN crossed his arms stubbornly. “He can’t tell me what to do!”

Lee Know watched Jeongin for a long moment, a slow, terrifying smile spreading across his face. “Ah. He’s not tired, is he? That's the problem.”

Changbin looked confused. “Yeah, he’s not tired. What about it?”

Lee Know stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving Jeongin. “I know a way to make someone so tired they’ll sleep for a week. A little trick I learned. It involves a high-intensity workout... without moving.”

Jeongin, despite his stubbornness, started to look nervous. “Hyung, what are you talking about?”

Lee Know just gestured to Changbin. “Changbin, grab his arms. We’re going to help our maknae achieve maximum tiredness.”

Changbin didn't need to be told twice. He was fast, grabbing Jeongin's wrists and twisting them behind his back before the maknae could react. He pushed Jeongin face-first onto the mattress, keeping his hands locked above his head.

Jeongin instantly started struggling. “HYUNG! LET GO! DON’T YOU DARE!”

Lee Know leaned over the maknae’s exposed neck. “Shhh. Just trying to help you sleep, little one.”

Lee Know used his index and middle fingers to quickly, lightly trace and scribble circles right behind Jeongin's ear and into the crook of his neck. Jeongin’s whole body instantly seized up.

His scream was sharp and high-pitched. “WAAH! NO! NO! NO! LEE KNOW HYUNG, STOP THAT!”

The gentle touch was making Jeongin's skin crawl and his whole body twitch. He thrashed his head violently side to side, trying to shake off the fingers, but Lee Know was relentless.

“It feels good to let it out, right?” Lee Know teased, pressing his thumbs deeply into the two sensitive divots on either side of Jeongin’s throat, just above the collarbone.

Jeongin’s laughter turned ragged, the sound breaking up as he bucked against Changbin’s hold. “AGH! STO-HA-HAP! I’M SAHA-I’M SICK! NOHOOHOH!”

Changbin, seeing how easily Jeongin broke, was stunned but quickly got into the fun. “Wow, you really are broken, Innie. Let’s keep moving! Lee Know, get his hips!”

Changbin didn't release Jeongin's arms, but he switched his position, pinning the maknae's lower back with one knee. This left Jeongin's hips exposed.

Lee Know didn't hesitate. He pulled Jeongin’s shirt up just enough to reach the exposed hips and flanks. He used the edges of his fingernails to dig and rake along the hip bones.

Jeongin screamed, a long, desperate sound. “GAH! DON'T! I'M GONNA BREAK! THIS IS SOHOHO UNFAIHHAHAHHAARRR!”

The two attackers ignored him. Changbin leaned down and added to the pain, using his knuckles to deliver a hard, fast grind to Jeongin’s love handles.

Jeongin’s body was shaking uncontrollably, his laughter turning into a desperate, silent gasp that he couldn't push out. He was kicking his legs hard against the mattress. “IT TICKLES! PLEASE, I’M BEGGING YOU! I’LL TURN OFF ALL THE LIGHTS FOREVER!”

Lee Know noticed the struggle. “No deals yet. You’re still fighting.” He pressed his thumbs down into the soft area right between Jeongin's hip and stomach muscle, pressing until Jeongin’s whole body tensed up and he let out a loud, pained yelp.

Changbin released Jeongin's hands and quickly grabbed his ankles before Jeongin could try to roll away. Lee Know helped pull off Jeongin's socks in one swift move.

Jeongin went absolutely still, his breathing ragged. He knew what was coming. “NO! NO! NO! NOT MY FEET! WAHAHAIHAITT!”

Lee Know took the first foot. He didn't start big; he simply took one finger and began to slowly trace the line between the ball of the foot and the arch.

Jeongin exploded. His body bucked so hard it almost knocked Changbin off the bed. His screams became piercing and frantic. “WAAAAH! WHYYY MEHEHE! SO EVILL!”

Changbin, laughing hard, grabbed the other foot. He used his fingertips to start quickly walking and vibrating across the sensitive skin of the arch and the heel.

The combination was too much. Jeongin’s laughter turned into a desperate, pleading wail. He was hitting the bed with his free arms, but his legs were locked down and his feet were completely exposed. “HYUNGS! PLEASE! I CAN’T HANDLE IT! I’M NOT JOKIHIHING”

Lee Know, seeing the tears in Jeongin's eyes, quickly pressed his thumb deeply into the soft pad under Jeongin’s big toe for a final surge of sensation.

Jeongin’s head fell back against the pillow, his voice cutting out completely as his body convulsed with silent, breathless spasms.

Changbin and Lee Know paused, letting Jeongin catch his breath, but they hadn't gotten a full surrender yet. Jeongin was now curled up on his side, his hands clamped tight over his body, trying to protect himself.

“Not done yet,” Changbin panted, feeling a surge of energy from the chaos. “You still haven’t said the magic words.”

Lee Know took one of Jeongin's protecting arms and easily wrestled it away. He used the edges of his hands to saw back and forth across Jeongin’s sides and flanks.

Jeongin let out a strange, high-pitched squawk. “GYAH! PLEAHEHESE! IS THIS A WAY TO TREAT YOUR YOUNGEHEHEHRS?!”

Changbin took the other side and pushed his knuckles into the spaces between Jeongin's ribs, grinding hard.

Jeongin’s laughter became a desperate, squeaky chuckle, his body trying to fold in half away from the pressure. “STOP THAT POKING ITS SOHOHO BAD!”

He was starting to get weaker, his movements slowing down. The energy from his bickering was completely gone, replaced by pure exhaustion.

Lee Know saw the exhaustion in Jeongin's eyes. It was time for the final, finishing move. He grabbed both of Jeongin’s wrists and, with a quick pull, yanked them up and pinned them against the headboard.

Changbin immediately went for the exposed armpits. He shoved all ten fingers deep into the hollows and began a rapid, deep wiggling motion.

Jeongin’s body went completely ballistic. His scream was the loudest yet, pure panic and hysteria. “AGH! NO! NO! THE PITS! I’M SAHA-I’M BEGGING! MY ARMPITS! IT'S TOO MUCH! I HATE THE FEELING! WAAAAH!”

Changbin was relentless, using the heel of his hand to scrape down the soft, vulnerable inner arm as well.

Jeongin’s mind was empty, replaced by the non-stop, overwhelming sensation. His laughter turned into a choking SILENCE, his mouth open in a desperate attempt to catch air that never came. He was shaking, utterly defeated.

Lee Know leaned in, his voice calm amidst the chaos. “The magic words, I.N. Say you’re tired, and you’ll keep the lights off.”

Jeongin couldn't speak, just shook his head violently.

Changbin kept wiggling his fingers deep in the armpits.

Jeongin finally managed a shaky, tear-filled word: “O-O-KAY! I’M TIRED! I GIVE UP! I’LL KEEP THE LIGHTS OFF FOREVER! FOREVER!”

Lights Out, Finally Changbin and Lee Know immediately stopped. They pulled their hands out and sat back, both breathing hard but looking satisfied.

Jeongin slowly curled up into a fetal position, his whole body shaking with lingering spasms. His laughter was gone, replaced by soft, exhausted sobs.

Lee Know gently pulled Jeongin's blanket over him. “Good boy. See? Now you’re tired. Lights off, Changbin.”

Changbin, without a word, reached over and flicked the switch off. The room instantly went dark.

In the dark, they could only hear Jeongin's quiet, shaky breathing.

Changbin settled into his own bed, pulling the covers up. “Feel better, Innie?”

A quiet, mumbled voice came from under the blankets. “I HATE YOU BOTH. I’M SO TIRED. I’M GOING TO SLEEP NOW. GOOD NIGHT.”

Changbin grinned in the dark. “Good. Night, Innie.”

The room stayed silent and dark. Jeongin didn’t move or complain again. He was fast asleep within minutes, completely worn out by his 'workout.' Lee Know’s plan had worked perfectly.

section 1: minchan

The night had been peaceful for maybe all of five minutes. Minho and Chan had collapsed onto the bed, completely drained from the day. 

Chan was sprawled on his stomach, one arm already tucked under his pillow, and Minho was on his back, hair messy, eyes heavy, drifting in and out. They both wanted nothing more than silence, stillness, and sleep.

But in the middle of them was Han Jisung.

He wriggled. He huffed. He squirmed against the sheets. He poked at Chan’s shoulder. He nudged his cold toes against Minho’s leg. He whined into the pillow just for the sake of making noise, little squeaky sounds that meant nothing but were constant enough to keep both older boys wide awake.

Jisung had been a brat all day. He’d annoyed them. He’d worn crop tops in public and grinned devilishly at their growing ler moods. He’d eaten Minho’s pudding. And even now he was full of energy. 

“Hyung~” Jisung whined in a sing-song voice, kicking his legs under the blanket, like he was competing in swimming. “Hyung, cuddle meeee. Minnie, I’m boooored. Hyuuuuu—”

“Sungie,” Chan groaned, one eye cracking open. His voice was low, flat, dead with exhaustion. “Shut up. Please.”

“But I don’t wannaaaa,” Jisung chirped, rolling onto his side and jabbing Minho in the ribs with his index finger.

Minho hissed, squealing softly through his teeth. “You little—”

Jisung immediately buried his face into Minho’s chest, muffling his laugh. “Hehehehe, sorryyy~”

Minho was exhausted. Chan just wanted to sleep. For once. And it was clear Jisung wasn’t going to pipe down anytime soon. 

And so, without so much as a word exchanged, they both moved.

Chan’s arm slid forward from behind, slipping beneath the blanket, and he lifted Jisung’s shirt in one smooth, tired motion. The younger gasped, realizing what was about to happen.

“No—NONOHO HYUNGIE WAIT!!”

Too late. Like an idiot, Jisung tried to shove at Chan’s hands. 

Chan’s hand caught Jisung’s wrists and yanked them down to his chest, pinning them tightly in place. He was trapped, arms folded against his own body, helpless and wide-eyed.

But Minho was already moving.

Still lying on his side, eyes half-lidded, his hand lazily slid under the blanket until his fingers found Jisung’s bare side.

And then he clawed.

The sound that ripped out of Jisung was nothing short of absolutely hysterical. He arched in the middle of the bed, his legs kicking frantically, the blanket twisting around his ankles and getting stuck there. His cackles were so sharp and frantic they cracked in the middle, high-pitched squeals bursting out in between gasps. “STAHAHAHAHAP—!!! NOOOHOHOHOHOHO—!!!”

Minho didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His fingers were ruthless, digging deep and dragging sharp scribbles up and down Jisung’s ribs, over and over, merciless and mean.

Jisung’s sides weren’t spared from the arrangement. Minho was using his thumbs, pressing deep and rolling in circles that forced the most ridiculous belly laughter out of their poor brat. 

Jisung’s entire body convulsed against Chan’s hold, but Chan only held tighter, pressing his wrists firmly to his chest.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Chan muttered, voice already husky with sleep.

“CHAHAHANNIE HYUNG—PLEHEHEHEHEASE!! HE’S BEHEHEHEING SO MEHEHEHEHEHHEHEAAANNN!!”

It was all Minho. 

The lazy bastard was practically half-asleep himself, his expression blank and tired, but his hand would not stop moving. His fingers dragged mercilessly across every rib, every dip and curve, squeezing at the softest spots with precision that only years of practice had sharpened. He didn’t even have to look!

Jisung shrieked and wailed and kicked. His voice went wild, dissolving into squeaky, broken giggles that filled the whole room.

“PLEHEHEHEHEASE—!! I’M SOHOHOHOHHORRY!!! I’LL BE GOOD! I PROMIHIHIHISE!! JUST STAHAHAP!!”

Minho’s response was a low hum, like he hadn’t even heard. His fingers simply pressed harder into Jisung’s twitching sides, scratching upward with sharp little flicks that sent him into hysterics.

Until Chan joined in with a sleepy grin. Minho grunted with sleepiness and held down Jisung’s wrists. It was officially hyung’s turn. 

Chan didnt even hesitate. He slipped both hands under the boy’s shirt, spidered up his sides and ribs, and then stuck both hands right under those arms. 

Jisung’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “OHMYGO—WAAAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAIT!!” He bucked, writhing frantically. “I CANT—I CAHAHAHHAHAHANT!!”

Chan murmured sleepy teases into his neck, but his wiggling fingers didn’t let up for even a second. 

Jisung’s feet kicked helplessly against the mattress, toes curling, knees knocking together as he lost control. He could barely breathe, squealing so loud it bounced off the walls. “MINHOOOOOOOHOHOHOHO PLEASE LET ME GOHOHOHO!! CHAN!! STAHAHAHAP—!! I’M SERIOUSLY DYIHIHIHIHIHING!!”

“Good. Maybe now you’ll be quiet.” Minho muttered.

Finally—finally—Both hands slowed, then stopped. They had finally fallen asleep. 

Jisung lay there like a wreck, his chest heaving, sweat dampening his hair, his cheeks flushed a deep pink. His eyes were glassy, lips trembling around faint, leftover giggles.

They released his wrists only when Jisung melted limply against Minho, too wrung out to lift his arms. Their little brat was quiet now, body squished warm between them.

Chan tucked his face into Jisung’s shoulder, muttering against his skin, already slipping into sleep. “Finally…”

Minho didn’t say a word. He just curled closer, draping an arm over Jisung’s waist, as if nothing had happened. His breaths were even, steady.

And their baby—worn down, breathless, utterly spent, was finally too tired to be bratty.

Within minutes, all three were asleep.

section 2: changbin

“Alright,” Changbin said, stretching with his arms behind his head, his sleeveless shirt doing absolutely nothing to hide his unfairly sculpted biceps. “Today’s goal? Abs of steel.”

“I already have abs,” Jisung whined, flopping dramatically onto the mat like a wounded animal. “They’re just… soft. Like…abs of tofu.”

“More like jelly,” Changbin said, smirking, his cheeks puffing out in that cute way they always did.

“Rude!” Jisung retorted, though he could feel the apples of his cheeks heat up from the truth in the comment. He had to admit…It had been a while since he had hit the gym. 

“Channie hyung!” Changbin called out. “You ready?”

And from behind the weight rack came Chan, positively glowing with evil excitement. Jisung bolted upright.

 “Wait—no, why’s he here??” Jisung whined. 

“I need someone to hold your legs down,” Changbin said sweetly.

“So that’s a two person job now?!” Jisung squeaked, to which Changbin replied, “You move too much.” 

“Today, we fix that.”

“I’m not gonna survive,” Jisung whispered, already scooting backward like a crab.

Chan sat down, locked Jisung’s legs under his arms, and grinned. “Hi.”

“Binnie,” Jisung mumbled, already half-sprawled on the mat, one leg bent, the other twitching like it was trying to escape on its own. “Can we maybe…just stretch today?”

Changbin raised an eyebrow.

“Stretch?”

“Yeah. Like…a light, no tickle day where I don’t laugh until I forget my name?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Cool. Great. Love that for me.”

Changbin grinned, cracking his knuckles with entirely too much enthusiasm. “Twenty sit-ups. Clean form. Or else.”

“Twenty?!” Sung whined, already getting into position. “Ughhh, I’m too lazy for this. I’m going home and eating ramyeon from my stash after this.”

“One. Up!” Changbin shouted, taking his seat behind Jisung, watching the boy grunt softly and lift himself. The first 5 sit-ups were okay, however, Jisung was beginning to run out of steam. 

Until he started leaning a bit to the left. Changbin grinned wickedly. Then playfully stuck two fingers against that side and wriggled deep. 

“NAAAHA!!” Jisung let out a high pitched squeal and threw himself in the opposite direction. “Stooop, I did it correctly!!” 

“Sure, you did.”

“Yeah, I did.” Jisung retorted sassily, already moving on to the next sit up. 

And then Jisung bent his knees. Changbin’s hands clamped playfully around his waist and dug in, teasing circles right above his hips, and Jisung lost it. 

Full-body, wheezy, high-pitched cackling, accompanied by the reddest face on the planet and the squirmiest thrashing ever. 

“CHANNIIIEEE—HE’S GOT MY SIHIHIHIDES!! NAHAHAHHAHAHAAA!! I CAN’T—STOHOHOPP—”

“You really think you’re perfect, huh?” Changbin growls playfully, abandoning the sit-ups entirely in favor of pulling the poor boy into his lap. Pinning Sungie’s arms to his chest with his right hand and clawing into his left side. An absolute death spot. 

“OHMYGAHASH—NOHOHOHOHOH OKAHAY OKAY OKAY WAIT STAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Sungie cried, kicking desperately. Chan ducked out of the way. Changbin laughed. 

“C’mon!! You should be stronger than this, Sungie! Break out of my grip, you can do it!!”

“FUHUHUCK—NOHOHOHOT WHILE YOURE TIHIHIHICKLING MEHEHEHEHE!!” Jisung wailed, face beet-red, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. His struggle was pathetic and he knew it, his hands were flapping like bird wings and his whole body was shivering because fuck, Binnie was being so mean. 

“OHOHOHOHMYGOHOHOHOHOSH LET GO OF MEHEHEHEHEEE!!” Jisung bawled, thrashing and kicking his legs desperately. 

Changbin released Jisung the moment the boy’s laughter ducked into silence. Sung sprawled out onto the floor, wheezing, absolutely breathless. “You’re so…cruel…” He whined. “I hate youhu…my tummy hurts so bad.”

“Wait till you see those abs!! Channie hyung, I think I just found the perfect way to get Sungie to work that stomach more!” Came Changbin’s gleeful shout. 

section 3: hyunlix

Han Jisung was…

…Drunk. 

Wasted. 

And being super embarrassing. 

The dorm was loud with laughter, music playing faintly in the background as everyone relaxed after a long day. Jisung was the loudest of them all, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes glassy from the drinks he’d had.

Jisung had always been a lightweight. It was tough for him to stomach more than two cans of beer in a night and when he did it turned him into the most smashed mess on the planet. 

The others had started to catch on. Jisung was acting sloshed, after all. 

“Hyungggg,” Jisung whined, voice dragging out like honey as he rolled over to look at Minho, who was sitting on the floor with a drink in his hand. “Do you know…d’you know how much I love you?”

Minho raised an eyebrow, unamused, while Seungmin gave a skeptical look from the other couch. “Oh no,” Seungmin muttered. “Here it comes.”

“I love youuu, even when you’re mean t’me.” Jisung pouted, burying his face against the side of the older’s neck. 

Every little thing seemed funny to him—someone dropping a chip, Felix making a weird noise, even the way Seungmin blinked.

“I just—” Jisung hiccupped, clutching his chest and giggling so cutely. “You guys—are like…angels. But like…evil angels. Because—” He started giggling before he could even finish the slurred sentence, curling up as his own words set him off, and he was laughing yet again. “Because you…you tickle me.”

“Oh—” Felix choked on a laugh. “What do you mean, Hannie?”

Jisung slapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide like he just realized he said something secret. But then he dissolved into another fit of adorable giggles, body shaking as he sat up, pointing at Minho and Seungmin in turn. “Them! Those two devils! They—” He broke off in a dramatic little squeak. “They did it earlier. They tickled me so bad. Like—like so bad.”

Seungmin looked downright smug while Minho sipped his drink, expression unreadable except for the twitch of a smile.

“They pinned me dowwwnn and dug their fingers into m’side and I was laughing so hard.” Jisung whined breathlessly. “And here—and under my arms—oh my gosh, I was screaming! I was like, ‘stop, please stop,’ but did I really want you to stop?” He shook his head slowly, his messy hair flopping into his face. “Noooope.” He slurred. 

Minho, sitting nearby, smirked but kept his tone soft. “You really liked it that much, huh?”

Jisung nodded vigorously, his messy hair bouncing. “Uh-huh! I love it. S’much. It’s like…the bestest thing ever. Even if I scream and squirm…it feels…it feels…” He trailed off, whining helplessly as words failed him. He was so drunk he couldn’t even think straight. 

The others exchanged knowing looks, grins spreading across their faces. Felix tried not to laugh too hard, but it was frail and useless as he laughed into his palm. “Wow, Hannie. Didn’t know you felt that strongly about it. Do you want it to happen again??”

“I doooo,” Jisung said, flopping onto a cushion with a soft sigh. “I love it…I love it!!” He squealed into his hands and flopped into Jeongin’s lap. The maknae soothed him and coaxed him to sleep. 

Meanwhile, Felix and Hyunjin were exchanging glances. They were making a plan. 

—

The next morning, Jisung woke up with a pounding headache and a heavy sense of dread. He knew he was screwed the second Hyunjin and Felix entered the room wearing the same mischievous smiles from when they had lee moods. 

They were too quiet—and the way they shut the door behind them made his stomach churn. 

“Hey Hannieee~” Felix lilted, grinning with a hint of mischief behind those sunshine eyes. Hyunjin tilted his head, his hair falling over his face like a curtain as he smirked. 

“Remember what happened last night?? You said some pretty….personal things.” Hyune mused, walking over. He grabbed Jisung’s arms and pinned them to the pillow. 

“Wha—NO!” Jisung squealed when Felix sat on his thighs, trapping him down. He could already feel his cheeks heating up. He was boiling. 

The position was unfair. Jisung froze, wide-eyed, knowing exactly what this looked like—and what it usually led to. His heart was pounding. With excitement. 

“We can talk this out…” Sungie muttered, trying to hide the giddy grin spreading across his face. 

Hyunjin leaned down until his face was just inches from Jisung’s, his smile infuriatingly soft. “No, no, no. I think we should talk about you.”

“Specifically,” Felix added, his voice playful, “about how you apparently love being… well, you know.”

Jisung whined, his face flushing a bright cherry red. “I was drunk! You can’t use that against me!”

“But you used it against yourself!!” Felix exclaimed in mock sympathy. “Don’t worry though, we’re not starting until you ask for it. Nicely. With your manners.”

Jisung shook his head frantically, trying to twist out of their hold, but Felix was strong and Hyune had his wrists locked down like iron. Every little shift only made him feel more helpless, more aware of the position he was in.

“Look at him,” Felix cooed, grinning down at him. “He’s already so blushy. You’d think we’d started already.”

“We don’t even have to touch him,” Hyunjin agreed, his tone sing-song. “All we have to do is remind him…how much he likes it. Don’t you love being tickled, Sungie?” 

Jisung squealed at that, the word settling in his brain like sediment. 

“Don’t you loooveee it when we tickle you?” Felix asked. “Riiighttt here?” His hands darted down to wiggle just above Sungie’s sides. Jisung sucked in his stomach immediately with nervous giggles, eyes wide as he watched those wiggling fingers. “Tickle tickle tickle, baby~”

Jisung was so ready to combust. Jisung squirmed helplessly beneath Hyunjin and Felix, his face bright red, chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to avoid eye contact.

“C’mon Jisungie…” Hyunjin dragged his name out. “Ask properly.”

“W-what do you mean, properly?” Jisung mumbled, trying to look anywhere but their smug faces.

Felix tilted his head, his blue eyes sparkling with playful mischief. “You know what I mean, Sungie,” he said sweetly, tightening his hold on Jisung’s wrists just enough to remind him he wasn’t going anywhere. “Say it properly. Use the word.”

Hyunjin grinned, leaning closer so his long hair brushed against Jisung’s cheeks, making him squirm even more. “The word… you love it, remember? You said it yourself. Don’t get all shy now.”

Seconds turned into minutes. The silence—except for their occasional giggles—was unbearable. Jisung felt his resolve crumbling, piece by piece, under the weight of their teasing stares. Under the weight of those trailing fingers. 

“Can you…” He started. Both of them raised an eyebrow. “Can you please….”

“Go on.” 

“Please tickle me.”

“What was that??”

Jisung thought he’d combust. “PLEASE TICKLE ME!!” He squeezed both eyes shut. 

“Awwwwhhhh!!” Both Jinnie and Felix squealed. Hyunjin giggled and Felix squished both of Jisung’s cheeks. 

“Because you asked so nicely….I guess we could give you what you want.” Felix pouted mischievously. 

“Stooop!!” Jisung whined. “Just do it already!!”

“Impatient.” Felix snorted before his hands darted down. Down to his thighs. He grabbed it with both hands and dug deep and the sound that Jisung let out was wild. 

“AAAAH!! Fehehehelix!!” He squealed, kicking out and whining as Hyunjin joined in at his upper body, hands digging into those sides uninterrupted. 

“Nohohoho NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!!” He wailed when Felix slipped a hand down to his knee, thumb digging into that spot right between it and his thigh. “PLEASE!!” He yelped. 

“Please stop? Or please keep going?” Felix teased, eyes sparkling with joy in the way that it always did seeing his hyung laugh. 

Jisung’s voice kept cracking, sliding into that hysterical register where words were optional and laughter was mandatory. 

He wrenched his head back and forth, trying to hide his face, but Felix tugged a strand of hair away and cooed at the hysterical, ridiculous grin across Jisung’s pretty features.

“PLEHEHEASE WAHAHAHAIT I SOUND SO UHUHUHUGLY!!” Sung whined. 

That made both of his lers erupt into fresh laughter. Felix paused for the briefest second, mock-offended, then cooed. “Noooo, you do not sound ugly.” 

Hyunjin’s fingers never stopped moving, but his voice softened into genuine adoration. “You sound like the cutest little thing in the world. Honestly.”

“NOHO—NAAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Jisung bucked to the sides and Felix ducked down to blow raspberries onto his sides. 

Jisung shrieked, eyes all watery, and laughed until his brain couldn’t even form thought. A mushy, happy, giddy mess. 

“And what’s the moral of the story, Hannie??” Hyunjin asked in that teasing lilt of his. 

“IHIHIHIM NEHEHEHEHEVER DRIHIHIHIHINKING AGAHAHAHAHAIN!!”

section 4: jeongmin

In the observation chamber of their ship, Jeongin and Seungmin sat across from one another, reviewing the data they had collected during their year long to Earth. 

The charts and graphs projected between them detailed physiological changes they had experienced while living among humans— changes that were supposed to fade after returning home.

Jeongin’s brows furrowed. “It’s been several cycles, and everyone’s sensory thresholds have returned to normal. But…” His gaze flicked toward the adjoining room, where Jisung was tinkering with a piece of equipment. “He’s still…reacting to stimuli.”

Seungmin tilted his head thoughtfully. “You mean he’s still ticklish.”

“Yeah.” Jeongin responded, his eyes softening. “He doesn’t deserve that.” 

“Everyone will think he’s weak.” Seungmin realized. “We have to get rid of it somehow.”

“From what I remember, after a long time of tickling, the lee gets desensitized to tickling.” Jeongin flicked through his notes. “Maybe it’s permanent for us?”

Seungmin said, lips curling into a mischievous smile, “Maybe he just hasn’t… adjusted yet. Perhaps his nervous system needs a little help recalibrating.”

They exchanged a look — part concern, part curiosity, and part undeniable mischief.

Minutes later, Jisung found himself lying on the cushioned surface of the examination table, secured with soft restraint bands. His eyes darted between his two friends. “Uh…Why am I strapped down? You said this was a routine check.”

Jeongin placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It is. But we noticed your sensitivity hasn’t faded like ours. Uhm, your ticklishness. We think… a little controlled stimulation might help.”

Jisung blinked, suspicious. His eyes narrowed, and one brow flicked up. “Controlled stimulation?”

Seungmin leaned down with a grin that was far too sly. “We’re going to tickle it out of you.”

“Wait—what?!” Jisung yelped, already squirming. “No way. Guys, come on, that’s not—!”

But Jeongin was already at his side, and Seungmin positioned himself at the other. “Just trust us,” Jeongin said softly, almost soothingly. “You’ll feel better afterward.”

Then, as if conducting a scientific experiment, they began their “treatment” in earnest—so relentless.

They started at his tummy, gently wiggling fingers there until Jisung was biting his lip through uncontrollable giggles. “Thihihihis is sohohoho ehehembarassing!!”

Seungmin flexed his long, sharp nails dramatically, the faint glint from the lab lights making them seem even more menacing. Jisung’s eyes went wide. “Nooo, no, no—Seungmin, don’t you dare!!”

But Seungmin only grinned, tilting his head like a predator who’d just found its prey. “For science,” He said, before his fingers descended on Jisung’s sides.

The reaction was immediate.

“AAAHHHH! nahahahAHAHAHAHA!! NOHOHO SEUNGMINNN!” Jisung shrieked, his laughter bursting out of him in uncontrollable waves. His back arched, his head shook violently from side to side, and his now weak legs kicked against the air like he was trying to run away from the sensation.

Jeongin finally joined in, wiggling his fingers along Jisung’s knees, making the poor alien squeal and giggle all at once. “You’re so sensitive here too. Fascinating,” Jeongin murmured, though his soft smile gave away how much he was enjoying this far beyond any scientific reasoning.

Jisung threw his head back with another sharp burst of laughter, almost sounding like a hiccup between squeals. “I CAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IT! PLEASEEE!”

Seungmin looked at Jeongin, pretending to consider it. “Should we stop?”

Jeongin shook his head, feigning solemnity. “Not until the sensitivity’s gone. We’re good friends, remember? We have to help him.”

“IHIHIHITS SOHOHOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAHHAAD!!” Jisung wailed. “IHIHIT TICKLES TOOHOHOHOHO MUHUHUCH!!”

Jeongin cooed again, leaning closer. “Look at him, Min. He’s actually kicking!!” He grabbed his notepad to scribble it down. 

Jisung’s face flushed deep pink, but his laughter only grew louder, his squeals reaching a pitch that made both Jeongin and Seungmin grin like kids discovering a new toy. 

Seungmin’s claw-like nails trailed back down toward Jisung’s tummy, circling lightly around the little belly button, and the poor alien let out the most adorable yelp yet—half scream, half wail. He was so red, looking like a tomato. 

Seungmin’s grin turned wickedly playful as he flexed his fingers again, tilting his head with an almost sing-song tone. “Tiiiickle, tickle, tickle,” he teased, dragging out the words in a playful rhythm as he wiggled his fingers threateningly in the air. 

Jisung’s eyes went huge, already shaking his head frantically before Seungmin even touched him. “NOOOO!! SEUNGMIN, DOHON’T YOU DARE! I really can’t take it there!!” Jisung squealed, his voice already cracking with nervous giggles. 

He tugged at the soft restraints on his wrists, legs kicking weakly against the table, but it was hopeless. His friends were relentless.

And when that stupid claw dipped into his belly button, Jisung lost every ounce of sanity and dignity he had been trying so hard to uphold throughout this whole thing.  

“STAHAHAHAHAHHAP!!” He shrieked, his whole body convulsing as he squirmed in every direction. “SHIHIHIHIHIT THAHAHAHAT’S SOHOHOHOHO BAHAHAHHAHAD!!”

“Oh, I dare,” Seungmin replied sweetly before spidering his claw-like nails up Jisung’s sides, slipping easily under his shirt to get to the soft skin beneath. “Tickle, tickle, tickle,” he sang again, voice low and teasing as his fingers danced all over those sensitive spots.

“EEEEHEHEHEHEEE! SEHUHUHUNGMINNNN!” Jisung screeched, his body arching so sharply the table creaked. His laughter exploded into the room, wild and uncontrollable, mixed with squeaky hiccups and frantic little squeals that made both of his friends melt from how cute he sounded.

“Oh, but teasing makes it more fun,” Seungmin purred, slowing his fingers just enough to make Jisung flinch in anticipation. Then he wiggled them lightly against the deep curves of Jisung’s sides, squeezing and scratching in a maddening pattern. “Tickle, tickle, tickle… can Sungie take a little more? Hmm? Because I think you can. You’re so strong, right?”

“NOHOHO I’M NOHOT!” Jisung squealed, breaking into squeaky giggles as his arms jerked against the straps helplessly. “I’M WEHEHEHEAK! LEHEHEHEHT ME GOOHOHOHO!”

But Seungmin just chuckled softly, dragging those claws in slow, circling motions that sent Jisung into another screaming fit of laughter. “Ohhh, these sides are just too good,” Seungmin teased in that same sing-song voice. “So soft, so sensitive. Our little alien brought something extra back from Earth, didn’t he?”

Jisung squealed again, kicking so wildly that his shoes slipped halfway off. “STOHOHOHOHOP! STAHAHAHAHAP! NO MOHOHOHOHOREEEE!!!”

Jeongin finally moved in with an innocent smile that was anything but. “Hmm… what about here?” he murmured as he slid his fingers straight toward Jisung’s underarms, wiggling against the smooth skin. The reaction was immediate and explosive.

“WAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOHOHOHOOOO!” Jisung shrieked, thrashing so hard his head shook back and forth like a little metronome. His laughter jumped an octave, spilling out in frantic, broken squeals that made Jeongin giggle under his breath.

“Awwww, listen to him!” Jeongin sang, leaning close to nuzzle his nose teasingly against Jisung’s cheek. “You’re growling, Sungie. Are you trying to sound tough? That’s sooo cute.”

And he was. Between the helpless shrieks, Jisung let out the tiniest frustrated growls, like a flustered little animal, trying so hard to bite back the giggles that poured out anyway. “PFFFTTT—AHAHAHAHAAA! NOHOHO JEOHOHONGINNN!”

“Ohhh, don’t pretend you don’t love this,” Jeongin teased softly, his fingertips swirling slowly and deliberately in those helpless hollows. “You sound soooo happy. And you’re so giggly, Sungie! I think you love this.”

Seungmin slowed his teasing for just a second, his claws circling lazily on Jisung’s ribs while he tilted his head with mock sympathy. “Aww. Poor little hyungie. You’ve got so much energy in you… Let’s get it all out.”

“NOOOHOHOHO PLEHEHEHEHEASE! NO MOHOHOHORE!” Jisung begged, his voice cracking like he was on the verge of tears from laughing too hard. His flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, and wild smile only made his friends grin more.

And Hannie was beginning to run out of breath. He was whining, panting softly. Then he said the one thing to get them to stop. He willed himself to stop laughing. 

“OKAY OKAY!!” He shouted. “I-IM NOT TICKLISH A-ANYMORE!!” He crossed his fingers mentally, praying they’d fall for it. 

“We know you’re lying, hyung.” Jeongin’s words dashed the poor quokka’s dreams. “But sure, we’ll continue next time.” He patted Jisung’s arms while undoing the straps, laughing as the boy curled into a fetal position. 

“Fuhuhuck…” Jisung panted. “I’m gonna run away.”

“Why’s that?? Too ticklish?” Seungmin teased with a well aimed poke to his side. 

“Yes!!” Jisung squeaked, slapping at that hand. “Now leave me alone, I’m too tired to breathe.”

The JYP practice room was nearly silent. It was late—so late that the city outside was quiet, leaving only fluorescent lights and tired idols to fill the night.

Minho ran through the choreography again, his movements sharp and precise even after hours of repetition. He wasn’t satisfied until every beat matched perfectly, and even then, his mind replayed the sequence on loop.

Across the room, however, his partner was far less focused.

Seungmin stood in position, but his eyes were glazed over, his shoulders drooping with exhaustion. When the beat dropped, his timing was half a second behind. His arms lacked their usual crispness, and by the third count, he had already fallen out of sync.

Minho sighed, pausing the music. “Yah, Seungmin. Again.”

Seungmin groaned, flopping onto the floor like a starfish. “Hyung… we’ve done it twenty times. My body is filing a complaint.”

“You can file it later,” Minho said firmly, though a small smirk tugged at his lips. “Right now you’re still moving like a half-asleep puppy.”

“I am a half-asleep puppy,” Seungmin muttered, reaching for his water bottle. He took a lazy sip, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned back against the mirrored wall.

Minho tilted his head, watching him. “Don’t tell me you’re zoning out already.”

“Mhm.” Seungmin’s response was barely more than a hum. “Wake me up when you’re done being a perfectionist.”

The sarcasm was weak, slurred with fatigue, but Minho’s sharp ears caught it. He crouched down in front of Seungmin, studying the younger’s slack features. His water bottle dangled loosely in his hand, threatening to spill. His head lolled back against the mirror, lips tugging into the faintest smirk despite his exhaustion.

Minho narrowed his eyes. “You know… you’re getting a little too comfortable ignoring me.”

No answer. Just a faint shrug, eyes half-lidded.

“Ohhh, I see how it is,” Minho said slowly, his smirk growing. “You think you can just check out? Let your hyung do all the work? Very bold of you, Kim Seungmin.”

That earned him the smallest twitch of lips—amusement. But still no effort to move.

Minho leaned closer, his voice dropping to a mock-threatening whisper. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Before Seungmin could process what that meant, Minho jabbed two fingers into his side.

The reaction was immediate. Seungmin jerked upright with a startled bark of laughter, slapping a hand over his mouth like he hadn’t meant to let it slip. “H-Hyung! Don’t—!”

Minho grinned, eyes gleaming. “Oh? Don’t what? Don’t this?” His hands dove back in, scribbling across Seungmin’s ribs.

Seungmin burst into laughter, twisting frantically against the wall. “N-nohoho! Hyuhuhung, waihihit—!”

“There’s the energy I was looking for,” Minho teased, relentless. “You weren’t even blinking two seconds ago. Now look at you.”

“Th-this isn’t fair! AHAHAHA—!”

Minho chuckled, settling into a rhythm. His fingers darted up and down Seungmin’s ribs before sliding lower—straight to his stomach.

Seungmin’s reaction was explosive. His back arched, knees pulling up instinctively as loud, frantic laughter poured out. “NOHOHO NOT THERE—! HYUNGGG!”

“Ohhh, jackpot,” Minho purred, fingers kneading into his belly. “What’s wrong, puppy? This spot too much?”

“YEHEHEHES! GEHEHET OFF! STAHAHAHAP!”

“Mm, no,” Minho said cheerfully, digging in harder. “Not until you admit you were ignoring me.”

Seungmin shook his head wildly, laughter bubbling uncontrollably from his chest. “IHIHIHI WOHOHON’T! LEHEHEHT ME GO!”

Minho smirked, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Then I’ll just have to try harder.”

Without warning, he slid a finger directly into Seungmin’s belly button.

Seungmin shrieked, nearly folding in half. His laughter shot up in pitch, desperate and wild as he flailed against the floor. “NAHAHAHAHAH NOT THAHAHAT! HYUHUHUNG! NOHOHOHOHO!”

“Ohhh, this is your weak spot, huh?” Minho teased mercilessly, swirling his finger around the sensitive dip. “The magic button?”

Seungmin screamed with laughter, twisting violently, but Minho easily pinned his hips with a knee. His arms flailed, trying to shove Minho away, but every failed attempt only encouraged the older more.

“Stopstopstopstop—! IHIHIHI’M DYING! HYUHUHUNG, IHIHIHI’M GOHOHONNA DIHIHIE!”

“You sound pretty alive to me,” Minho said casually, tracing circles around his navel before dipping back inside. “In fact, I think this might be the most awake you’ve been all night.”

Seungmin’s laughter went nearly silent, tears welling at the corners of his eyes. His legs kicked helplessly against the polished floor. “PLEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAN’T! STAHAHAHAP!”

“Not until you say it,” Minho sing-songed, switching tactics to scribble all over Seungmin’s stomach while occasionally poking his button just to hear the shrieks it caused. “Tell me you were ignoring me, and maybe I’ll stop.”

“IHIHIHI WOHOHON’T—!”

“Oh, stubborn, huh? Fine.” Minho’s grin was wicked. “Guess I’ll try your armpits next.”

Seungmin’s eyes flew open in panic. “DOHOHOHON’T YOU DAHAHAHRE—!”

Too late. Minho’s hands shot up, wiggling into his underarms with precision.

The reaction was instantaneous: Seungmin convulsed, laughter breaking into helpless, high-pitched squeals. His arms snapped down in reflex, trapping Minho’s fingers against the sensitive hollows.

“YAAAHAHAHAHAHHH! NOHOHOHOHOHO! HYUHUHUNG STAHAHAHAP, NAHAHAHAHA!”

“Aw, look at that,” Minho teased, wriggling his fingers mercilessly against the trapped skin. “You locked me in. Smart move, puppy.”

Seungmin thrashed, legs kicking wildly. “IHIHIHI HATE YOHOHOHOU!”

“No you don’t,” Minho said with a chuckle, switching back to his belly just to keep him guessing. “You love me. Deep down.”

Seungmin shrieked again when Minho’s fingers darted to his hips. His laughter cracked, dissolving into breathless gasps. “HYUHUHUNG! PLEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHI’M AWAHAHKE! IHIHIHI’M AWAHAHKE NOHOHOW!”

Finally, Minho took pity. He pulled his hands back, sitting back on his heels as Seungmin collapsed onto the floor, and turned into a ball.

The room was filled with Seungmin’s lingering giggles and heavy breaths. His face was flushed, hair plastered to his forehead, tears shining at the corners of his eyes.

“You—” he wheezed between giggles. “You’re the… the worst.”

Minho only smirked, picking up the water bottle Seungmin had dropped earlier. He pressed it into the younger’s shaking hands. “And yet, effective. Wide awake now, aren’t you?”

Seungmin glared weakly, still giggling as he tried to catch his breath. “Remind me… never to sit near you again.”

“Sure,” Minho said, ruffling his damp hair with zero remorse. “But I’ll still catch you. Every. Single. Time.”

Seungmin groaned, burying his face in his hands, though the shy smile tugging at his lips gave him away.