boynextdoor x fem reader. | headcanons — wc (each): 0.2-0.3k
how they react to you calling them pretty/giving them compliments.
tags: established relationship, fluff, comedy, pet names used, they're a bunch of silly pretty boys hehe
a/n: it's been a hot minute since i've done headcanons 😮💨 these are kind of short but cute :P
park sungho
— it goes either one of two ways, depending on his mood: a) he gets all flustered and red in the ears if you catch him off-guard (ex. he's cooking, cleaning, on his phone, literally just existing and yet he still looks gorgeous); and b) he'll give you a look that's borderline cocky and says "i know i'm pretty" but replies with a soft "thank you".
— if you catch him off-guard, he'll stop and stare at you like ㅇㅅㅇ? before going red.
— sometimes you just genuinely mean it, other times you do it on purpose to see his reaction (because he's so damn cute).
— he'll try to reason like: "what are you talking about, i'm just crouching here wiping stains off of the coffee table... ㅡㅅㅡ;" but then he'll mutter a small 'thank you' afterward.
— it'll put him in a good mood for the rest of the day and it's the cutest thing you've ever seen—there's a faint but permanent smile on his face and a bounce in his step.
— exhibit b: sometimes, he purposely dresses up so that you'd call him pretty. he knows exactly what you like him wearing (he got a hold of your pinterest one day but he never told you that) and styles himself up in the way he's sure would leave you flustered and speechless.
— he usually does it when you have a date or an event to attend, also because he believes good outfits shouldn't be wasted.
— so you'll dress up too, but then he steps out of the bathroom and your jaw is on the floor.
— his hair is slicked back in the way you love, the button-up—folded at the forearms—and the dress pants he's wearing match him perfectly, and is that your lip gloss he's wearing?
— in short: he looks stunning.
— sungho knows he's got you—you haven't said a word since he walked in.
"what's wrong, babe? does my outfit not look good?" he asks you.
"what?? no! it looks.. good, sungho. amazing, even," you sputter. is it hot in here or is it just you? (it's you.)
sungho gives you a look, eyebrows raised like he's asking you a question. you know what he wants.
"you look pretty."
the grin that splits across his face is blinding. "thank you, baby. you look pretty too."
lee riwoo
— shy cutie™
— riwoo loves when you compliment him, especially when you call him pretty, but he never makes it obvious.
— he doesn't ask for it outright, but you glance at him and he's practically shooting stars at you with his pleading eyes.
— it's ironic too because every time you do, he curls up like a turtle and hides his face in your neck, cheeks and ears positively flushed.
— he tells you to stop but is so... far away... from wanting you to stop 😭
— throws the compliments back at you when he can't take it anymore; it literally turns into an entire compliment battle all the time (spoiler: you never win) and you both eventually come up with the weirdest things to compliment each other on.
"you look so pretty, riwoo! your hair reminds me of an albino porcupine!"
"thank you, my love. i love your nails, it's the exact shade of the red light in a stoplight." weirdos.
— also loves when you post him on social media and show off his style, it makes him feel so proud 😎 he's littered everywhere across your accounts and he gets so smug about it.
— reposts your stories with a "hehe >< thank you my pretty baby! <33" (he's actively kicking his feet and giggling while rewatching your story at least twenty more times)
myung jaehyun
— he loves being called pretty, handsome, gorgeous, whatever; he adores being complimented and basks in your attention all the time.
— shamefully asks for it at any time of the day; he doesn't care if you're at home or in public. he will sidle up towards you, wiggling his eyebrows, and ask, "hey, babe. don't you think i look hot today?"
— if you answer, he'll preen and give you an award-winning smile. if you're occupied with something else, he'll be all up in your space until you give him attention.
— if he's feeling extra playful, he'll snatch whatever's keeping you busy out of your hands and toss it (safely) somewhere behind him, pulling you into him and hogging you all for himself. you have no choice but to shower him with compliments until he's satisfied.
— on quieter days, the compliment from you makes him melt. you say a simple, "you're so pretty, jae," even when he looks like shit after a long day and he just... stops in his tracks, drops all his things, and flops to the ground.
he grins up at you with a lovesick look in his eyes from his heap on the floor. "you think i'm still pretty? looking like this?"
you cup his cheek, "the prettiest."
han taesan
— taesan gets taken aback at first, especially when you say it out of the blue. it's not that he's not used to you complimenting him, but it's usually things like, "you're handsome," or even better, "you look hot today, sannie." (he definitely doesn't ask you to call him that)
— being called "pretty" isn't normally in his list of favorite compliments, but that's not to say he doesn't like it.
— of course, he isn't han taesan if he doesn't try to play it off. be all casual and say, "not what you usually call me, but i'll take it. thanks, love." but deep down inside, he's on his knees screaming into the void, heart racing erratically.
taesan, probably: SHE THINKS I'M PRETTY WHAT THE HELL I'VE WON AT LIFE I'LL RISK EVERYTHING FOR HER TAKE MY MONEY MY TIME MY LIFE MY LAST NAME—
— he's dramatic. sue him.
— when he's sure you're not looking at him, he grins so wide he looks like an entire idiot. he has to bite his fist to stop smiling and blushing.
— it gets worse when you call him "cute". you're not wrong—you think your boyfriend is the cutest man alive, too akin to a cat when he's being silly, so you can't help but coo at him and call him adorable.
— on the outside? taesan frowns and grumbles like it's the end of the world. inside, however, he's running laps and jumping for joy.
— in all honesty, try as he might, he can never hide from you. even if he fights to keep a straight face, eventually, he breaks and gives you the sweetest smile ever (to which, of course, you call him a cutie ^_^).
kim leehan
— this man is a sucker for being called pretty. maybe because it's you, but also maybe because he agrees. he knows he's pretty.
— it's a very common compliment you give him, and he glows every time he hears it. the biggest grin that has his eyes crinkling in the corners, the softest 'thank you' you've ever heard. sometimes, he just stares at you, hearts for pupils, and grabs your hands and squeezes them tight in appreciation. every time you praise him, he shows his thanks in the cutest ways.
— because of his reactions, it makes you want to shower him with compliments even more.
"hannie, your hair is so cute today!"
"you look soo pretty in that sweater, baby."
leehan literally just existing:
you: my boyfriend is so hot 🤤
leehan: (੭◌ˊᵕˋ)੭* ♡
— you're his no. 1 glazer. so what? he loves it.
— leehan also isn't embarrassed to straight up ask you for compliments. he'll walk up to you, put on his best kicked puppy face, and say, "honey, compliment me. please." tugs on your sleeve or hugs you for effect. and honestly, who are you to deny him?
— five minutes later, he's pinned you down on the sofa, half on top of you, while getting his hair stroked and sweet nothings whispered to him. he's in heaven, do not interrupt him.
kim woonhak
— this man and his fake confidence!! like taesan, he'll act all cool at first; he'll go like, "who, me? i'm definitely pretty, i know that," but then one look from you and he'll break and blush like crazy.
— he'll be all loud about it too, trying to cover up being shy, like, "ahh, stop! don't say stuff like that!! it's so..."
"it's so what, woon?" you inch closer to him like a predator closing in on its prey, a mischievous look on your face. it's always amusing seeing your boyfriend flustered.
"stop that! you're scaring me!" woonhak yelps and runs away from you. you chase him down, cackling and calling after him, "my pretty babyyy, don't run away from meeee!"
— if anything, he loves it. it's just that he'd rather roll over in his grave before he'd ever admit it (you've made it your mission to make him admit it).
— sometimes, woonhak inadvertently asks you for compliments. at least, he thinks he's being sneaky, but he's quite literally the opposite of it. you think it's hilarious, but you won't tell him about it. let him live his delusion.
— he's dressed nice one day and is standing in front of a mirror. he runs a hand through his hair and sighs like he's troubled.
"hey, y/n."
"hm?" you look up from where you're cozily curled up on the couch, book in hand.
"...don't you think i look good today?"
you smirk at the back of his head. here he goes again. "do you? i didn't notice."
woonhak whips his head around, exasperation and betrayal written all over his face. "oh come on, babe! look harder." he raises his arms and twirls around for effect. you laugh heartily.
"no, i still don't see it, woon. i'm sorry."
"don't make me come over there and jump on you."
"just kidding! you look pretty, as always."
tag list (open!): @cinnamorollhyuka @ihanzzn @taestulipss @starriniqhts
You so frustrated!... BUT I LIKE YOU- Boys next door’s tracklist | 보이넥스도어 P.SH
— Boys next door’s tracklist (series)
Track 5: But I like you — Oblivious! Bff!Sungho x reader
In Summary
Flirting Rule #1 - Make him realize you're flirting. As the favorite pupil of the extraordinarily handsome Professor Myung (he forced you to call him that), you are more than willing to do whatever it takes to win over the neighborhood's handsome orange cat. Even with Woonhak's disastrous example as a giant cautionary tale. The only massive obstacle is Park Sungho—your childhood best friend who shows zero signs of seeing you as anything more than a bro...
* 4K wc.
a/n: a little longer than I expected 😅😅
The golden rule of flirting: 'Make sure he knows you're flirting!'
You knew this line by heart because 'Jaehyun'—or 'Professor Myung' from House 102—had been brainwashing you with it all week.
Your target is Park Sungho (House 501), your childhood best friend. The massive problem? The guy is oblivious. As Professor Myung’s favorite (and most desperate) student, you were ready to bust out every strategy in his playbook to turn this orange cat into your boyfriend.
Operation 1: Create a Situation and Build Comfort
Theory: Don't wait for destiny. Create the moment!
This part was a piece of cake. You and Sungho were practically each other's safe spaces. Growing up, whenever you looked beside you, he was always there.
...But maybe he was a little too comfortable? You thought to yourself, taking a deep breath to boost your confidence as you stared at his broad back. He was standing in front of your sink at House 606, drying his hands with a towel after you frantically called him over to fix a leaky faucet this morning.
His white t-shirt was completely soaked, clinging to his skin. The soaked shirt left very little to the imagination.
You didn’t mean to stare—but seriously, how were you supposed to not?
"Sh-should you go change?"
"Huh? Why?"
Because you’re practically naked!! Aren’t you freezing?! (You only screamed this in your head, too scared to look suspicious.)
"Oh, do you think I need to? It'll dry eventually. I'm too lazy to walk back home and change."
He’s hardworking about literally everything else, but this is where he draws the line? By the time that shirt dried, you’d probably combust from blushing! You were losing your mind!
"Besides, we already ordered lunch. We can eat when it gets here, and then I'll head back to change before coming over again."
"Wow, well, I'm terrified you're going to freeze to death. Let me go grab one of my dad's shirts for you!"
You didn’t give him a chance to argue before sprinting upstairs to grab a shirt.
Whatever! This rule was way too hard. Can we sub the player out? Or at least call a timeout, Professor?!
Operation 2: Heart-Fluttering Close Contact
Theory: Nothing conveys your feelings better than smooth, subtle skinship! Wait for a moment when his guard is down and focus on taking care of him. Guaranteed to make him blush!
You took a breather, typing a quick SOS message to your 'support team' (who knows when they'd actually read your dying message, but sending it made you feel better). Then, you went back to frantically digging through your dad's closet until you pulled out the safest option: an oversized gray crewneck t-shirt.
Deep breath... remember, you are the disciple of Professor Myung! A guy in a wet shirt isn't going to ruin this plan!
You stomped loudly down the stairs (to warn him you were coming and to hype yourself up). But as you peeked into the kitchen, the remaining shreds of your sanity instantly vanished.
Park Sungho had taken off the soaking wet shirt. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, completely shirtless. Drops of water trailed down his broad shoulders and his perfectly toned abs—the result of his consistent workouts.
Oh my god! Which one of Jaehyun's rules covers this scenario?! NONE OF THEM!
"Why are you spacing out over there? Give me the shirt," Sungho frowned, walking over and casually snatching the shirt from your hands. "If you take any longer, I really will catch a cold."
"W-well, why did you take your shirt off?!" You yelled, trying to cover up the heat rushing to your cheeks and ears.
Sungho threw on your dad's oversized shirt. It was so loose that the collar slipped, fully exposing his collarbones and shoulders. He shrugged. "You were the one who said you were scared I'd freeze to death. Was I supposed to stand around in a wet shirt? Your logic is so weird."
Ding-dong!
The doorbell rang, perfectly interrupting the nerve-wracking standoff.
Sungho nodded toward the door. "I'll wipe the table."
You bolted to the door. Thank god for delivery food!
You and Sungho sat side-by-side at the dining table with a massive spread of Jajangmyeon and Tangsuyuk in front of you. As he happily stuffed noodles into his mouth, you spotted it—a smudge of black bean sauce.
Golden opportunity unlocked.
What makes a heart race faster than close, intimate contact?!
You reached for a tissue and slowly leaned in. "Sungho-ah..."
Your voice was so dripping with sweetness that Sungho actually stopped chewing. He looked up at you, blinking, his cheeks still stuffed with noodles.
"You've got sauce on your mouth... Let me wipe it for you."
As you slowly moved the tissue toward his lips... cue the romantic pink filter and sparkles floating in the air...
Just a slight blush or a hint of shyness, and I'll know this is working!
...But it didn't play out like that.
Sungho didn't pull away, nor did he lean in closer. He just sat there perfectly still, turning his face toward you and peacefully closing his eyes, letting you wipe his mouth without any resistance. His handsome, flawless face, his long eyelashes, his slightly puckered red lips... Damn it! Instead of him, YOU were the one whose ears were burning!
"Is it all off? I want to keep eating."
You jumped as his clear, glass-like eyes suddenly snapped open. His deep voice snapped you back to reality, and you violently yanked your hand back as if you had touched boiling water. You practically threw the tissue across the table, acting so flustered that Sungho just looked bewildered.
"Y-yeah, it's off! Keep eating!" You stuttered, aggressively shoving noodles into your own mouth to avoid eye contact.
Sungho didn't say anything else. He just chuckled softly in his throat and casually popped a piece of sweet and sour pork into his mouth.
[HLFC Task Force (Help Y/N to learn how to flirt correctly)]
You aggressively bit into your popsicle, looking so utterly miserable that anyone walking by would shake their head in pity. Your sneakers kicked at the dirt, slowly swinging the swing set.
"What's wrong with Y/N, hyung?" Woonhak whispered, looking panicked as he hid behind Taesan. Taesan was looking at you with equal pity after you glared at them and took another savage bite out of your ice cream, as if the popsicle had personally insulted you.
"Why don't you answer him? I'd like to know too," Taesan gestured toward you. Woonhak frantically tugged at Taesan's sleeve, terrified that the next thing you'd bite off out of anger would be his ear instead of the popsicle.
You scoffed, turning your head away and swinging harder. Leehan, who was leaning against the bright yellow slide, finally looked up from his phone. Next to you, Jaehyun was also on a swing, arms crossed, still texting someone and ignoring the world.
"Am I completely hopeless...?"
Your pathetic, lonely tone made the guys raise their eyebrows.
"...It feels like I'm the only one harboring a crush here."
"You said you were 'flirting.' How many days has it even been?" Taesan asked, stuffing the last bite of his ice cream into his mouth and wiping his hands on Woonhak's shirt.
"It's been a whole month!!"
"Well, if you're following Jaehyun's methods, it's obviously going to fail," Leehan chimed in, chuckling. His comment offered exactly zero comfort.
"Don't laugh at me!" You snapped, feeling completely isolated. Jaehyun was still glued to his phone (probably texting that same neighbor of Woonhak's). You had absolutely no allies!
You let out a long, frustrated groan, aggressively ruffling your own hair until it was an absolute bird's nest. Jaehyun, who had been half-listening the whole time, finally looked up.
"Uggggh! I'm going crazy! My heart is beating so fast it feels like it's going to pop out and dance a tango! How can he just sit there with that blank, sick-cat expression?! Am I just completely devoid of charm?! It's not like he's my first love or anything..." You ranted until you were out of breath, dramatically slumping against the swing's chains. "...But the worst part is, no matter how frustrating he is, I still like him. What am I supposed to do?"
Woonhak and Taesan exchanged looks, shaking their heads in unison.
"You guys are so inexperienced..."
A long, dramatic sigh came from the swing next to yours. Jaehyun shoved his phone into his pocket and stood up to his full height. He crossed his arms and put on a serious face, acting like a legendary love guru descending from the mountains.
"The reason it failed spectacularly isn't because my theories are wrong, Y/N," Jaehyun wagged his index finger. "It's because you're the one doing all the chasing! Guys, when they realize they have someone securely in their pocket, they get complacent and act like lazy cats!"
"So what do you want me to do?! Backflip into his DMs?!" You fired back.
"Patience, young grasshopper..." Jaehyun smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Since proximity isn't making his heart race, we need to play hardball! It's time to bust out Professor Myung's Rule #3... 'Yanking the Cat's Whiskers: The Jealousy Test!'"
"Jealousy?" You, Taesan, Woonhak (and Leehan, who looked up again) echoed in unison.
"Exactly!" Jaehyun snapped his fingers, walking over to slap the shoulder of a very bored-looking Taesan. "Taesan-ah... today, you're going to be her bait."
"Wait, what?! Why me?!" Taesan's eyes widened, immediately trying to shake Jaehyun off. "Hell no! If Sungho-hyung finds out, he'll snap my neck!"
"Come on, you and sungho are both cats, it'll work perfectly! Plus, you guys are next-door neighbors, it's not a big deal." Jaehyun put him in a chokehold so he couldn't escape, then turned to you with absolute seriousness. "Listen to me, Y/N. Tomorrow, when Sungho comes over to your place for a movie, bring Taesan along. When Sungho walks in, act super close to Taesan. Actually, no! Link arms with Taesan right in front of him!"
"Link arms?!" Your jaw dropped.
"Yes! No matter how stubborn or clueless a guy is, seeing his best friend linking arms with another dude will send his territorial instincts through the roof! He’ll get jealous. Simple as that. Like... 'Who the hell is this guy?!' "
Jaehyun did a terrible impression of Sungho's deep voice, acting out the scenario with way too much passion.
"Is this actually going to work, Jaehyun-hyung...?" Woonhak asked weakly, looking between you and Taesan, who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
"You're dealing with Professor Myung here! Trust the process, Y/N!" Jaehyun winked. "Show that orange cat that if he keeps dragging his feet... competition is ready to snatch you up anytime!"
You swallowed hard, looking at Taesan, who let out a defeated sigh and accepted his fate... Screw it! We've come this far. If I get an F grade again, so be it!
Operation 3: Yanking the Cat's Whiskers (The Jealousy Test)
Theory: Trigger his possessive instincts by linking arms with another guy right in front of him! Any guy will lose their mind!
Saturday afternoon, House 606 Living Room.
Taesan was sitting rigidly on your sofa, looking like an inmate on death row. His hands were shaking as he gripped his plastic cup so hard it was almost crushed. Meanwhile, you stood by the front door, taking deep breaths to psych yourself up.
"I'm going to Riwoo-hyung's house at 6. After that, you're on your own."
"Wait, Riwoo's house, or his neighbor's house?"
"Shut u—"
Ding-dong!
The doorbell of destiny rang, cutting off your bickering. You signaled to Taesan. He flinched visibly before dragging his feet to stand next to you, looking like a dead fish.
You opened the door, immediately pasting on a sickeningly sweet smile when you saw Park Sungho standing there, his hands full of popcorn and snacks.
"Oh, you're here!" You greeted him cheerfully, ready to execute Professor Myung's ultimate master plan.
You reached out and firmly linked arms with Taesan, intentionally pressing close to him until Taesan held his breath, gritting his teeth (you were cringing internally too, damn it). "Taesan dropped by to play games, so I figured we'd all watch the movie together. Are you cool with that, Sungho?"
Alright! Do it! Furrow your brows! Yell at him and ask what he's doing here!
You stared at the orange cat, unblinking, analyzing his every micro-expression. Sungho paused for a second, his dark eyes dropping to your hands wrapped around Taesan's arm.
Silence hung in the air for three agonizing seconds...
Before Sungho looked up and gave you a bright, eye-crinkling smile.
"Oh, Taesan-ah! Awesome, I bought extra popcorn anyway," Sungho breezed right past the two of you into the house, completely unbothered. He turned back and gave you a wink. "It'll be fun having our little brother here for movie night, bro. Let me go pour the snacks into a bowl. You guys pick the movie!"
...Huh?
Little brother? Bro? BRO, MY FOOT!
What happened to the possessive instincts?! The guy casually whistled as he walked into the kitchen, leaving you standing there with your jaw on the floor, while Taesan let out a massive sigh of relief like he had just survived a war zone.
What kind of garbage theory was that, Professor Myung?! Not only was he NOT jealous, he acted like a gracious host welcoming his little brother! So frustrating! Absolutely infuriating!
Status: Grade F! (Failed so hard you wanted to cry!)
You collapsed onto the sofa next to Taesan, completely drained, and aggressively pulled out your phone to rage-text.
[Group Chat: HLFC (Help Y/N to learn how to flirt correctly)]
@.Prof.Myung_(scammer) Your plan is absolute trash! :y/n
Emo_Cat: I almost died for nothing. Sungho-hyung invited me to watch the movie and casually called her 'bro'.
I'm losing my mind! What possessive instincts?! He doesn't have a single one! :y/n
SnowKid: Y/N-noona, just give up. I think Sungho-hyung sees you as a blood-sworn brother at this point ㅠㅠ
Prof.Myung_(scammer): Calm down, my disciple! Don't give up yet! It's just the defense mechanism of a stubborn guy!
Prof.Myung_(scammer): You're about to watch a movie, right? Turn off the lights! Golden opportunity!
Prof.Myung_(scammer): If jealousy didn't work, we revert to 'Close-Range Heart Flutters'!
Prof.Myung_(scammer): What's more heart-racing than physical intimacy in a romantic atmosphere?!
Operation 4: Romance in the Dark (The Sleepy Head Drop)
Theory: A dimly lit room during a movie is the epicenter of romance. Pretend to be sleepy and drop your head onto his shoulder! When he looks at you, gaze up into his eyes. The mood will be perfect for closing the distance... even a stone statue's heart would flutter!
The lights went off. Sungho sat between you and Taesan, glued to the movie. Meanwhile, you and Taesan were secretly exchanging signals behind his head.
Taesan nodded, giving you a thumbs-up (while looking like he desperately wanted to go home).
Alright... you took a deep breath, acting like you were nodding off. You swayed your head a couple of times to make it look natural, before taking the plunge... dropping your head heavily onto Sungho's broad shoulder!
Sungho's hand stopped midway to the popcorn bowl.
His body tensed up slightly... It's working!
According to Professor Myung's theory, this is the part where he looks down at you, startled but flustered, and you gaze up at him with doe eyes.
You slowly tilted your chin up, looking into his eyes in the dim light, blinking innocently in what you hoped was the cutest way possible...
Sungho looked down at you... his thick eyebrows slightly furrowed.
"Sleepy?" his deep voice whispered.
You didn't answer, just nodded slightly, rubbing your cheek against his shoulder affectionately.
Sungho let out a soft sigh, before reaching up and... pushing your head away!
"If you're sleepy, go sleep upstairs in your bed. You're going to hurt your neck sleeping here..." He muttered, pointing at the TV screen. "Oh, and... your head is blocking the subtitles, bro. Move a bit. The main character is about to die, I can't see."
...
I don't know if the main character on screen is dying, but I am definitely dying inside right now!!
You bolted upright, sitting stiff as a board, and glared at Taesan, who was currently covering his mouth, shoulders shaking violently as he tried not to burst into laughter. Meanwhile, the culprit who just shoved your head away went back to chewing his popcorn, entirely engrossed in the movie!
What romance?! No tragic movie could ever be as sad as my love life right now! I'm so annoyed!!
Status: Grade F! (Negative points! Is it too late to move to a new neighborhood?!)
Back at the HLFC playground headquarters. Today, one member was missing (Myung Jaehyun was MIA, probably with that neighbor of Woonhak's, which was fine because you were absolutely furious with him anyway).
You lay flat on the yellow slide, dead inside. "My dignity is gone. I rested my head on his shoulder, and he pushed me away for blocking the subtitles."
Taesan, who was sipping from a juice box on the swing, practically choked. He tried to hold in his laughter until his face turned red, while Woonhak walked over and patted the edge of the slide with extreme pity.
"Aw, Y/N-noona... Maybe Sungho-hyung was just a little too invested in the movie."
"A little?! He shoved my head away like I was a boulder!" You bolted upright, crossing your legs and sighing heavily. "That's it, I'm exhausted... those stupid theories are completely useless. Should I just give up and go back to being his 'bro'?"
"Speaking of weird..." Taesan pointedly ignored your tragic love life and squinted at Leehan. "Why is Leehan glued to his phone again? Who are you texting? You’re smiling like a creep."
Leehan quickly locked his screen, clearing his throat. He looked at you, entirely ignoring Taesan's accusation. "Y/N... before you cry, let me ask: does Sungho-hyung even know you're hitting on him?"
Leehan's calm question made the playground fall completely silent.
"Huh? What do you mean... I followed every single step Jaehyun told me to..."
"Jaehyun-hyung's theories..." Leehan shrugged, a knowing smile on his lips. "Even he fails his own tests. You can do all that stuff, but if the other person doesn't even realize you're flirting, you end up sitting here like a sad puppy."
You froze. Your brain frantically tried to process Leehan's words.
"So, the methods you've been using for the past month..." Leehan tilted his head. "Are you absolutely sure Sungho-hyung knows you were 'making a move' and not just being a 'best friend' looking out for him?"
"So what am I supposed to do?! When I'm subtle, he's oblivious. When I'm direct, he tells me I'm blocking the TV!"
"Throw Jaehyun's trash theories away," Leehan said seriously. "Stop acting like a 'bro' and just tell him straight up."
Operation 5 (The Final One! If this fails, I'm done!): Throw the theories away and follow your heart!
Theory: No theories! When the mood is right, look him in the eyes and confess straight up!
11:45 PM. House 606 Living Room.
A light drizzle outside made the dimly lit living room feel even more intimate. Sungho was sitting cross-legged on the rug in front of the sofa, his broad back leaning against the cushion. He was mashing the buttons on his game controller, his eyes glued to the racing game on the TV.
You were sitting beside him with your knees pulled up... barely an inch away.
The sound of rain against the window competed with your heart, which was beating so hard your chest hurt. Leehan's words echoed in your head: 'Stop beating around the bush. Stop acting like a bro... Look him in the eyes.'
Alright! If I'm going to lose my best friend today, I might as well get it over with!
You took a deep breath, reached out, and snatched the controller right out of his large hands with a straight face.
"Hey! It's the final lap, give that back!" Sungho yelled, whipping his head around to look at you, deeply annoyed, his brows furrowed. "What kind of prank is this, Y/N?! My car just drove off the track!"
Instead of bickering back like you normally would, you set the controller down on the glass table and shifted closer to him... closer... until your knees were practically touching his thighs.
Sungho paused, noticing your serious expression. "What's wrong? Are you hungry? Or is the AC too cold again?"
"Park Sungho," you called his full name in a steady, yet slightly trembling voice.
"What," he replied, his deep voice softening when he realized you weren't joking around.
You stared deep into his dark eyes, not looking away, not making excuses. "Are you playing dumb, or are you actually just an idiot?"
Sungho raised an eyebrow. "Why are you insulting me? What did I do wrong this time?"
"For the past month..." You leaned in a little closer, until you could feel the body heat radiating off him. The scent of his fabric softener mixed with his natural scent almost made you lose your mind, but you pushed through. "Me taking care of you, wiping your mouth, resting my head on your shoulder... did you seriously think I was doing all that because I saw you as a 'bro'?"
Silence instantly fell over the room. The racing game blared in the background, but neither of you paid it any attention.
Sungho froze. Those dark eyes that used to look at you with fond annoyance slowly shifted... they flickered, grew confused, and then widened slightly, as if the puzzle pieces in his head were finally clicking together.
"What... do you mean?" His voice dropped to a whisper, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.
"I mean..." You gathered your absolute last ounce of courage, raising your trembling hand to press it flat against his left chest. Through his black t-shirt, you could feel his heartbeat... it was pounding just as fast and erratic as yours.
"I've been hitting on you, Sungho-ah... I like you. More than just a friend."
As soon as the confession left your lips, it felt like all the oxygen was sucked out of the room.
You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for a rejection or an awkward laugh...
But instead... Park Sungho's large, incredibly warm hand reached up and covered yours, pressing it firmly against his chest.
You opened your eyes.
And that was the exact moment you realized... awakening the 'possessive instincts' of this orange cat... was a hundred times more dangerous than Jaehyun had ever warned you about!
Sungho's gaze had completely transformed. He no longer looked like your reliable best friend, the grumpy guy next door, or your 'bro'. Those sharp, dark eyes were fixed on you with an intensity that made your stomach do backflips. It was deep, fierce, and... overflowing with a desire he had clearly been suppressing for a very long time.
"Do you have any idea..." Sungho said, his voice dropping an octave deeper than usual, the raspy tone sending shivers down your spine. "...what you just said?"
"I-I know," you tried to keep your voice steady, but as he leaned in closer... so close your noses were almost touching, you forgot how to breathe.
"What if I never saw you as just a friend either...?" He squeezed your hand tighter against his chest, letting you feel exactly how crazy his heart was beating. "What if I stopped wanting to be just your childhood friend a long time ago?"
Your eyes widened. "You..."
"When I pushed your head away during the movie..." Sungho's free hand slowly came up to cup your chin. His thumb gently brushed against your lower lip, making you subconsciously part your lips at the touch. "...It was because if I let you stay there, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from kissing you right then and there. And then you would have hated me for crossing the line."
Your face felt like it was on fire, blood rushing to your ears until they rang!
Park Sungho! You absolute madman! So he wasn't clueless this whole time, he was actively holding himself back from devouring you!
"And... what about now...?" You asked faintly, your eyes helplessly dropping to his incredibly red lips.
Sungho chuckled low in his throat—a laugh so sexy it made your heart stutter. He tilted his head down until you could feel his warm breath ghosting over your nose. He stared openly at your lips... the boundary of 'friendship' completely obliterated.
"Well, you opened the door for me this time, Y/N..."
He leaned in until your lips were a breath apart. His deep, husky whisper vibrated against your mouth.
"You better brace yourself... because I'm never going back to being your friend again."
[Final Operation Debriefing]
Professor Myung's Theories: Throw them straight into the dumpster!
Status: Grade A+! (Accompanied by a new 'talking stage' status that is extremely hazardous to your heart health!)
IT’S NOT WORTH TRYING TO LEARN OTHER PEOPLE’S LOVE LANGUAGES.
p — MYUNG JAEHYUN x fem! reader. g — humor, fluff, park sungho learns a lesson about minding his own business. w — swearing, death threats (as a form of flirting). 1.5k words.
requested by — @gluion “go kill yourself x “i’m pretty sure they have a crush on me”
note — part of my ship dynamics: insane edition gimmick. this is very the breakup soup coded. i just like writing about a bunch of idiots stressing about the dumpster fire love life of their friend. enjoy.
myung jaehyun’s friends are pretty sure he’s had a very stable, very loving, very normal upbringing.
“stop staring at me, you fucking creep.”
“sorry, i didn’t mean to make your heart flutter. can’t help it when you’re so pretty.”
“i’ll stab your fucking eyes out.”
“my eyes are all yours, pretty.”
so they can’t wrap their head around why he’s acting like he has not a single ounce of self-respect in his body. sungho and leehan watch as their pitiful friend gets shut down again by the most venomous glare, hostile sneer, deflected by the biggest pair of heart eyes in the world that’s ever longingly following your disappearing figure out the library door. “she wants me so bad,” he concludes with a self-righteous smile as he arranges his notes into one neat stack. sungho and leehan share a look. god almighty, please grant their friend wisdom and salvation.
“what...what makes you say that?” sungho attempts to prod. the first step to finding a solution is to figure out the situation. they need to know why myung jaehyun is so down bad for you, and why he’s so convinced that you feel the same way.
“huh?” jaehyun perks up. like he’s genuinely confused sungho has to ask that. “she was so flustered earlier. couldn’t you tell? it was adorable.”
“she threatened to mutilate you…?”
jaehyun beams. “she sure did.”
there...there is no point trying to understand him, sungho concludes. leehan is, for lack of a better word, getting mildly frustrated. “hyung, what the hell?” he raises. “if telling someone you want them dead is an indication of romantic feelings, then my middle school bullies must’ve been head over heels for me.”
a silence. a pause. “we’ll unpack that later,” sungho tells him. then shifts his attention back to problem child number one. “you. you’re a grown man who has full autonomy over his actions and feelings, and i know that. but as your friend, i just can’t keep watching you being disrespected, jaehyun. i can’t help but get angry on your behalf when you greet her good morning and alll she does is tell you to go fuck yourself!”
admittedly, sungho got a little bit heated at the end there. but he has every right to feel this emotion on behalf of his dense and seemingly unaffected friend— who is still sitting there, a smile on his face, hands on his lap like a patient buddha who has learned the true meaning of peace and serenity.
“sungho-yah,” jaehyun starts with a pleasant hum. “there’s no need to worry. the feeling is totally mutual. i’m telling you, she likes me back.”
speechless.
in fact, sungho and leehan are beyond speechless. they have no idea where this ungrounded certainty comes from. they certainly have even less of an idea on how to fix his lovesickness, bordering on insanity.
so, reasonably— they call for backup.
“the only way for him to get his shit together is if he asks her out for real and finally gets rejected for good,” taesan declares confidently. somehow, they see a point. riwoo lets out an echo of agreement. woonhak asks why they’re all excluding jaehyun from this after school garage meeting. “do you guys know when he’s planning on doing that?”
“no idea,” leehan answers. “but maybe we can pressure him into it.”
“so, should we encourage him instead of telling him to give it up?” sungho raises. taesan affirms. sungho lets out a grunt and a huff. “god, that’s gonna be tough.”
a resounding voice of dissent arises from woonhak. “i don’t get why you’re all going against jaehyun-hyung!” he yells indignantly. “let hyung love whoever he wants! this is a free country! you guys can’t dictate his love!”
“he’s received fuck you’s straight in the face and swears she’s flirting, woonhak. you’re too young to understand.”
it’s four votes against one. woonhak can’t win against his hyung’s determination to save myung jaehyun from his self-dug pit of pitifulness that he’d been in ever since laying eyes on you at the freshman orientation. god, they never should’ve went. he never should’ve shot down jaehyun’s suggestion to just skip it. maybe then, myung jaehyun would still be normal.
but this is not the time to lament and regret. it’s time for sungho to right his wrongs. it’s time to bring jaehyun’s self-respect back, they decide. and it starts with a wake-up call in the form of your inevitable, brutal rejection.
which, for some reason, does not happen as planned.
“what?”
“we’re going on a date.” jaehyun is as chipper as ever and sungho’s ears are starting to ring. “thanks for the encouragement, sungho!”
it’s ringing. it’s ringing so badly. “wait, what do you mean you’re going on a date?” he attempts to clarify, grabbing jaehyun by the shoulders because this is two-parts concerning, one-part kind of…proud? this guy actually succeeded? “she said yes? she didn’t tell you to fuck off and die in a hole?”
“she did. she looked pretty while saying it.” jaehyun answers with a bright grin. nevermind. this is all parts concerning. sungho “she also told me she’d kill me if i pick her up late after her class tomorrow. we’re going to have dinner at the thai restaurant that just opened. riwoo recommended it.”
sungho does not understand. he cannot understand because you, who seems to hate all of myung jaehyun’s guts for no discernible reason, agreed to go on a date with him? hello? has jaehyun been right this whole time? do you really reciprocate his feelings? or is this just some new form of torture? is his friend a masochist? is he the weird one for making a big fucking deal out of this? is this how relationships work nowadays?
a thought enters sungho’s mind.
hold on a second—
“anyway, i gotta go, dude. a pretty girl is waiting for me.”
—what if this date is a ploy for you to finally get the chance to kill him?
oh my god.
“wait!” sungho’s face is pale. his eyes are wide and frantic. “don’t—don’t go on the date!”
“hm?” jaehyun bats his eyes at him, taking a moment to think. then sparkles in realization. “oh! don’t worry. i’m not gonna show up looking like this. i’m gonna head home first to change.”
“that’s not the problem! jaehyun! no! no!”
this is it, his friend is going to die. that is, unless, he shows up on your date just in time to stop it. yes. there’s still a chance. he knows where the date is happening. he’s gonna tell the rest of them because there’s no way in hell they’d allow myung jaehyun’s cause of death to read stupidity by misconstruing your murderous intent as affection. they are not only going to save jaehyun’s life— but his dignity as well.
“remember, be quiet. be inconspicuous. they can’t figure out we’re here.”
hopefully, things go as planned this time. all five of them are gathered in a booth at the said thai restaurant, the eventual scene of the crime unless they do something about it. sungho is surveying the scene to find where you and jaehyun are seated. leehan nearly trips over his unnecessarily long trench coat while trying to cover more ground. woonhak is using the menu as cover but has since gotten distracted and has started to pick out his order with riwoo and taesan. “hyung, is the khao soi good?”
“yeah, we should order it.”
“what drinks should we get?”
this is hopeless. this is a mess. their best friend is about to die and all they can think about is dinner.
no matter. sungho can still take care of this himself. his eyes scan the main restaurant wing, from left to right, until his eyes double over in a screeching halt to the back of a very familiar round head—
“huh.”
the back of a very familiar round head that doesn’t seem to be facing the threat of decapitation.
sungho sees you and jaehyun sitting across from one another, jaehyun’s fairly loud voice raising over the music and utensils clattering, people chatting and passing by. “you’ve got something on your face.”
“touch my face, and i’ll kill y— hey!”
first of all, sungho wants to claw his own eyes out seeing his friend being disgustingly sweet. second, jaehyun did touch your face with a napkin and it does not seem like you’re attempting to murder him. in fact, you look flustered even. flushed despite the harbored glare, still seated despite your apparent derision and disgust. the back of jaehyun’s head looks exceedingly happy. the dots aren’t connecting. sungho is malfunctioning.
“should…should we interfere…?” leehan asks, his nose barely peeking out of the trench coat collar.
“i think...i think we should just leave them alone.”
“but isn’t his life in danger?”
“i misunderstood.”
forget misunderstanding. sungho can’t even behind to understand in the first place and has settled that he wouldn’t even try so long as myung jaehyun is happy— happy with being on the receiving end of fuck you’s and go to hell’s in response to his you’re so pretty’s and see you tomorrow’s, happy with getting his advances swatted away and shut down, happy with whatever the fuck is going on between you and him that sungho really can’t just wrap his head around.
synopsis: track athlete, myung jaehyun, is not as smooth as everyone thinks he is, as evident from his many attempts to woo you. in other words, 2 times he failed to ask for your number (+1 time you actually just gave it). third time's the charm, right?
genre: track!myung jaehyun x gn!reader, fluff, crack
cw: mutual pining (mostly jaehyun), secondhand embarrassment, literature rambles, insults w friends, uni au ⋆ wc: 5.4k
a/n: finally i have a bnd post yayy she's free from blurb jail!! this could've been longer tbh but i love myself too much to do that. ne ways hope fellow onedoors enjoy this cuz i need more onedoor moots yall -> please don't copy or translate ~^^
if one were to ask students of koz university about myung jaehyun, one would likely get one of three answers. either he was: a friendly face who easily blended into any conversation (even with complete strangers), a playful flirt who could charm his way into your heart and mind, or a star student-athlete who was the track team’s golden goose.
all good things that made him the resident campus crush. stealing hearts, but never leaving any broken. chased after medals that hung heavy on his neck rather than an empty crush that would take up his thoughts. at least, that’s what it was supposed to be. things change.
“hi, i’m yn. i’m taking this literature class for the next few months, and i just wanna say i really enjoyed your interpretation of “the tale of hong gildong” with the classic “robin hood.” your insight on both pieces was really amazing and the comment on social protest or political loyalty, especially in the modern world, was honestly genius.”
more specifically, he changed as soon as his eyes met yours in that lecture hall. why focus on a book filled with words upon words, when he could instead choose to focus on you who had features that blended into pure harmonization. eyes that sparkled as you continued to share your own thoughts on the matter. shadows that swished and swashed with every passing movement of your outfit whenever you gestured to a specific part in his presentation.
a presentation that he poured his heart and soul into and was beyond the moon knowing at least one person appreciated his efforts. not so they could grade him, or look to see what they should focus since they’re presenting next, but out of sheer interest.
yn. a fellow student who simply enjoyed his lecture topic in world literature 52 had made the resident campus crush, myung jaehyun, fall head over heels for them. oh dear.
“i cannot believe he expects us to finish memorizing all that information on inorganic compounds and reactions by this friday.” you complained, fingers gently rubbing your temples to ease the headache that was starting to form. the laptop in your bag was wearing your shoulders down, knots only further solidifying to your dismay.
“right? plus, we still have to finish the spectral analysis he assigned too! honestly, he is being such a–”
“leehan!” you cut your friend off mid-sentence at the sight of the tall individual sporting an alien-shaped keychain on his worn out backpack. you sent your friends a quick, lopsided grin to apologise. with a short say, they headed on to the dining hall, hopefully already knowing to save you a seat for lunch.
donghyun spotted your tired figure within the crowd at the call of his name, signalling you to come over with an excited wave. while the gesture would usually be ignored by jaehyun, who was previously cooing over his strange friend’s fact of the day in a baby voice, that wouldn’t be the case now. he felt his eyes widen at your figure slowly moving closer and closer towards his direction. head moved to look around, heartbeat pounding louder in his ears, palms getting sweatier with every step you took.
why is yn coming over here? no one’s behind us looking their way. why is leehan smiling? does he know them? no, no, can’t be. not possible. he barely talks to anyone besides us. surely not. please stop walking towards us. no, go away!
“hey hannie,” you greeted with a bump of his shoulder against yours. they know each other?!
“hey yn,” he moved his bag to the front with a soft grunt, unzipping the material and digging around past books and crumpled papers before pulling out a somehow creased folder. his hand gave it over and you immediately hugged it close to your chest in gratitude. “as promised, here are the notes you missed in class. sorry if it’s a little messy.”
“you are an absolute lifesaver. professor lee would’ve had my ass if i was a lecture behind again.”
leehan laughed and continued to exchange pleasantries with you as jaehyun and the rest of the group watched in sheer astonishment at how he casually conversed with you like the two of you were childhood best friends. a statement that would have had taesan huffing in objection like a grumpy black cat. his head racked up every single memory possible, anything to try and gauge what, who, where, when, why and how you two became friends. close enough friends for you to call him by a nickname too.
goosebumps littered your skin as you moved your vision to his side, flashing the five males around leehan a shy smile. “sorry, i’m being rude. i’m yn, a friend of hannie. you all are?” one by one, you become the slightest bit more familiar with the group, storing their introductions in your head for future instances.
park sungho, an architecture major who tests recipes in the cooking club. lee sanghyeok or riwoo from the dance department, who’s also in the cooking club (mostly just to eat sungho’s creations). han dongmin or taesan, who makes mixes in the music composition department and music club. kim woonhak, the self-appointed mvp of the basketball club in music composition. and lastly, “you are– oh! it’s you.”
jaehyun pointed to himself, eyes looking into yours to be sure. “yeah, you. i’m not too good with names but we’re in the same literature class, right?”
he nodded. breathed in and out. “ye-yes. same one. i’m uh… f-friend. donghyun’s friend.”
huh?
you hummed, waiting for him to continue his introduction. his eyebrows furrowed after hearing the mistake, quickly shifting his eyes to look away before continuing. “i’m from the lal department.” you looked at him confused, head tilting at the word. “i- you know, lal. language and literature. l a l.” woonhak tried his best to stifle a snort but to no avail he ended up doubling over in laughter at the older one’s awkward mistake.
“oh. that’s cool, but i still don’t know your name…”
did he seriously not introduce himself yet? all the basics have been said except for the most important one. he just had to forget that one. awesome. okay. it’s fine. just say your name. simple as that.
“j-jae myung hyun.”
“...jae is your last name?”
he was punching himself internally, hands pulling at every last hair follicle that remained as he yelled in frustration, voice cracking at the prolonged length of his scream. “ahahaha. it’s– hyun. no! jae. m-myung jaehyun. last name myung, first name jaehyun.”
“well it’s very nice to meet you, myung jaehyun, who is hannie’s friend from the lal department and also happens to be in my class.”
you flashed him a grin, eyes shining brightly into his own, a fluttering warmth hitting the soft-hearted male straight in the chest causing his heart to clench at the overly cute sight. stop smiling like that please. you’re gonna make me explode from how cute you are. with his hands clamming up, he responded with a shaky smile of his own.
“so…”
“shut up!” jaehyun remarked, harshly stabbing at the broken up meatballs in his spaghetti. his frown deepened at the sound of his utensils accidentally scraping against the dish, a high-frequency metallic screech that would make even the most stiff expressions falter.
“it was like a humiliation ritual happened before my eyes against my consent.” he groaned at the insulting dig from the ravenette, figure slumping against the lunch table in despair while his so-called friends chuckled at his more than obvious misery.
“you’re usually more smooth with introductions, annoyingly so. what happened?” sungho breathlessly asked, the first to calm his laughter from the group.
he whined, fingers ruffling his hair into a deeper mess that matched his current feelings. “i’m not sure. all i remember is they were across the hallway, looking like an absolute angel coming from chemistry 124.01. next thing i know they’re walking towards us with a smile that could battle the sun on its best day. it was an attack to the heart!”
“so much for mr. all i chase after are medals. with those comparisons, you are waist deep in with no way out.” dongmin mocked, pursuing his lips and moving his shoulders annoyingly suave-like to portray the older male. that was until he got punched by the shoulder.
“seconded. also, why do you know yn had just come from chem 124.01? stalker much.”
“i overheard james talking to them about their group project a few weeks back and found out about yn’s schedule through him. pretty sure they’re in the same program. it’s been around two months since then.” heads turned to look at him in absolute shock. the same thought ran through each of their heads. there is no way myung jaehyun, who is the literal personification of tmi and extrovert, kept his crush secret from us for two whole months.
“have you told yn yet?”
“...what do you think, idiot?”
woonhak opened his mouth to argue but quickly shut it back up at the lack of words coming out. “right. my bad.”
his chopsticks pushed around the remaining kimchi on the dish, movement slowing down as he zoned out from the reality of the conversation at the mere sight of his crush. the longer he stared, the more lost he felt. just what made you different? so different that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get over this silly crush of his.
maybe it was the way you seemed so passionate about life, sharing your views in discussions you’re interested in. from poetic literature to the societal issues it suggests, each word that left your lips only proved to him how insanely smart you were. you never hesitated to ask questions that would clarify the inquiries running in your mind, even if you weren’t all too familiar with the topic.
or maybe it was because you were really kind, but knew when to stand your ground ensuring no one walks over you. taking notes for others when they got sick, putting little tips and comments in the margins of the pages to make concepts easier to understand.
he paid mind to the smallest actions: whether it was the way you placed your phone screen side facing down to invest yourself in the conversation; the way you leaned in to listen to someone closely, clearly paying attention; or the way you traced a smiley face on any surface before sending the person beside you an equally bright smile to lighten their day.
he liked that about you. he liked a lot about you, and you didn’t even know.
his eyes met your own a few tables away and he could feel his heart rate rapidly speed up. your hand gestured an okay sign and he rushed to reply with two thumbs up, chopsticks clattering on the surface as it slipped from his fingers. you let out a small laugh at his clumsiness, nodding as your hand covered your mouth. i’m such an idiot. you broke his gaze, jaehyun sighing at his unrequited love as soon as you turned away.
“that was really, truly painful to watch.”
“can i change my answer? i think that was the humiliation ritual.”
“how is the so-called campus crush such a lovesick loser with his crush?”
“i’ve never been more embarrassed to be friends with you.”
“the only way to describe you and your actions is: a complete and utter mess.”
he pushed his plate towards woonhak, the younger male’s eyes sparkling with excitement at the free food offered. his hands dragged over his face, slapping his cheeks to snap himself out of this dazed feeling. he felt sick. stomach squeezing into different intricate knots, a result of the butterflies and cruel humiliation he faced after realizing how clearly his feelings could be seen. heart eyes, dreamy gaze, and flushed cheeks written all over his face. “please just put me out of my misery.” he begged, body leaning towards donghyun who willingly patted his shoulder out of sympathy.
“if you say so–”
“dongmin!” sungho scolded, momentarily taken aback by the immediate response to jaehyun’s sad request.
“ask and you shall receive, right? damn, this is what i get for being nice.” the eldest rolled his eyes, hand meeting his forehead in pure exhaustion as he muttered under his breath how tired he is constantly being surrounded by idiots. well, as they say, birds of the same feather flock together.
“so… when are you gonna get their number and ask them out?” leehan asked, leaning ever so slightly into his distraught friend, tone casual as he nodded his head over to where you were seated. “we can always help you out.”
his gaze softened, peeking past his fingers only to close them once again as you catch him staring, heat rushing up his neck when you smiled faintly. with a quick mental shake, he lowered his gaze, breath caught stuck in his throat at the fact you unknowingly had him wrapped around your finger. “never. i can’t. i’m just going to embarrass myself again. i’d rather suffer with this crush forever until the day i die.”
“okay. suffer then,” the sound of your laugh rang in his ears, a friend of yours casually dropping his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer. his eyes studied the way they looked at you, their expression reflecting only a hint of what he too felt for you. nails dug into his skin, a green-eyed monster consuming his thoughts as the stinging pain numbed. “suffer as you watch someone sweep your precious crush off their feet, knowing that could’ve been you instead.”
the teasing glint in their eyes was unmistakable. he shot them a glare causing a smirk to climb up their faces, enjoying the pout that framed his face at the idea of him never confessing. constantly trapped in a sea of his own emotions.
“fine. what’s the plan?”
i. operation “knight in shining armour”
“are you sure about this?”
“can you just– sigh, why am i helping you?”
“because you love me?”
“...save that for yn.”
the plan was simple. the humanities building had the busiest walkways in koz university and since jaehyun knew you had the navigating world history 225 class there (out of pure chance he adds but nobody believes), he was going to pretend to bump into you accidentally. maybe even lead you away from the crowd to protect you before asking for your number and inviting you out to lunch. the perfect case of a knight-in-shining armour.
it wasn’t even twelve yet yet he watched a couple of students flow in the hallways, eyes skimming through the crowd until it landed on you. your class must’ve ended early today. he threaded himself between students, grinning elegantly like expected before tapping you on the shoulder, “y-yn. hey, did you just finish class? what a coincidence ‘cuz i did too.” no it didn’t. he had been waiting outside for the past twenty minutes, but you didn’t need to know that part.
they look so pretty. ah, that’s a lot of papers, i should offer to help.
“here,” he slipped his hands under yours, the weight of books and course material lightening as he smoothly grabbed hold of the items, carrying it in his strong arms instead. “i got you.”
you whispered a thanks, ears warming a hinge of red, feeling bad that he was hauling the junk from your lessons. he was sweet, so kind that it made your heart leap in the air. it was nice walking with him in silence, the spring air sending a strange chill over your skin, the faint sound of leaves rustling in the distance adding to the atmosphere. “ow, excuse me! hey, stop pushing me! jae–”
the clock had struck twelve and right on cue a rush of college students filled the pathway, varying tones of voices mixing into one loud decibel as they shoved and jammed past each other to handle their business.
please let this go well.
jaehyun's eyes widened, not expecting the amount of people blocking his pathway, losing you in the mass. he shook his head, hyping himself up before pushing himself into the crowd, his friends, minus woonhak and leehan, watching with expressions of pain at the havoc ensuing before their very eyes. was this even worth it? for him, it most definitely was. he would be your prince charming, saving the day as he protected you from harm, getting an honorable reward by asking you out on a lunch date.
“ouch. hey, sorry– i lost someone in this– talk later please.” the mass flowed through the area, slowly leading him over to your worried self who was protecting your bag for life. sunlight streamed through the large glass windows, rays gleaming in your face making it harder to see through the rows of bodies. “sorry. yn, hi again.”
you turned around to see jaehyun awkwardly grinning at you, eyes glinting with that familiar sparkle of playfulness, a welcoming distraction from the current hecticness of the situation, “hey.”
“you alright?”
“never better, obviously. how about you?”
“absolutely amazing as you can tell, especially with me stuck in this literal sea of overworked students. come on.” he placed a hand on your shoulder, moving you just a bit closer to his chest, and with the other hand still holding onto your stuff, angling himself to protect you as he slowly guided you both step by step to the side, out and away from the crowd.
the sounds of chatter calmed and you could feel the airconditioned breeze hit your warm skin. notes of cedarwood and fresh soap hit your nose as you caught your breath, shoulders dropping down at the feeling of relaxation. finally, you had escaped. “thank you, seriously. you were basically my hero there.”
he chuckled, easing into his usual charming character, adoring the features that he could never see in detail up until today. how your skin felt warm to the touch, lips softly curving with every breath you took, hair strands falling to frame your face. it was a dangerous sigh. one that made him question if the concept of beauty was based on you.
his finger gently raised to swipe away at a stray strand, carefully moving it back into place behind your ear. the slight graze of his fingertip against the shell of your ear made you suck in a breath, eyes flickering to look up at his. “huh, your eyes are really pretty up close.”
“sorry?”
his tone carried a sincere lilt that contrasted the boyish grin he flashed, teeth pearly white drawing your attention to his lips. did he mean it? it sounded so casual, like it was a passing comment you didn’t need to pay mind to.
you should repay him somehow. after all that, it was basically necessary. your head flipping through potential options until, “food?” he looked at you in surprise. “i was gonna grab a bite to eat, if you wa-wanna? it’s a nice cafe by campus. relatively cheap prices. nice atmosphere. food is super good too.”
this is it. my chance. “plus i won’t be late to class later since it’s by campus… which you already mentioned, yeah. after that maybe we could exchange nu–”
“dude! come on, i am starving. it’s your turn to buy lunch. you promised, remember?”
your expression fell at the appearance of his friends woonhak and leehan, ultimately cutting yourself off before you could continue. “actually i was planning to go with yn.”
“no no, it’s fine. you have to keep your promise, also…”
“there you are, yn. are you busy?” your friend called, waving at your figure.
“ah.” he stilled. and just like that, he shut up.
“yeah. maybe next time. see you around.” his smile dropped while you hurried over to where your friend was, not even sparing a measly look back at him.
“so? did you get their number?”
he stole a glance at you holding your packed lunch with utmost care. the golden light casted a warm glow over the scene of you merrily walking away, a skip in your step at the prospect of having lunch. “i was about to until you interrupted, idiot! plus, yn’s eating lunch with their friends…” he deadpanned, wanting to cry from despair at his luck as they patted his shoulder sadly and smacked the youngest boy for butting in.
“how did we mess this up?”
“blame woonhak and jaehyun’s bad timing.”
“i said i was sorry!”
ii. operation “cat and mouse”
the literature lecture hall buzzed quietly, the usual sounds of chatter, fingers tapping hurriedly against the keys of their laptop, a subtle crunch of paper and plastic coffee cups being moved from hand to hand, and chairs screeching as students dragged them lazily across the floor. your heart was beating in fear, eyes constantly flickering back to the argument on the presentation slides at the front.
in the world of literature, what is the bigger tragedy? the love story of romeo and juliet, or the life journey of frankenstein’s monster?
with fifteen minutes left of the class, professor jung had once again initiated his weekly literature debate. a supposedly fun game that divided the class into two groups, pitting them against each other to argue in defense of their assigned side for the remainder of the session. you had been looking at the group document for almost seven minutes and at the messy sight of words on a page was starting to make you feel sick, groaning in complete spurn at its disorder.
a scattered pile of words in inconsistent paragraphs, bullet points listed that were either striked out or had an arrow following it, and sentences of varying sizes highlighted a light yellow paired with matching comments about what points to expound on. your ideas were starting to run dry, like a car slowing down in the middle of the road spurting out its last bits of fuel.
“how is what we wrote worse than before?” you frowned, staring at the messy page in disbelief. fingers tangled in your hair, tugging the strands the lightest smidge as if that would fix your problems. the brainstorming time was about to come to an end and with barely any progress, you couldn’t help but feel hopeless.
“just pull anything out at this rate. sad thoughts and find every inconsistency in their argument. if we grill them enough, the gaps will be obvious and our side will seem more uniform,” your classmates stated after seeing you shove the laptop away from you in irritation. the wretched device does nothing but make you feel worse.
beep beep. beep beep.
the timer echoed in your ears, the sound bouncing off the plain walls of the lecture hall. “who’d like to start?”
jaehyun raised his hand wearing a smirk dripping in confidence. your shoulders tensed, feeling the air shift as he cleared his throat. his posture was relaxed, like he already knew he had this in the bag. professor jung nodded, impressed at his proactiveness. okay, you got this jaehyun. cool and confident. all to impress yn. you’ll be fine.
“a famous example of star-crossed lovers in a forbidden romance. their story ended not from bad luck, but because the universe was cruel. not only did their families forbid them from being together, the forces of the universe did not look kindly on them either. at the knowledge of their passed loved one, they were impulsive and chose death. it shows dedication. a desperate attempt at finding love even in the afterlife.”
every statement he made, voice even and perfectly clear, points only helping him build a better foundation. yours fell short. it was good, but not enough. his was strong, like he had experienced the tragic love story himself. a victim of their misfortune rather than an ordinary student studying their lives. so you took action.
“frankenstein’s monster also experienced his rejection towards love. from the people of his community and after victor frankenstein failed to follow through with the creation of a female companion. his kindness was repaid with fear and violence on top of that just because he was a monster. wouldn’t you say that’s more pitiful?” you interrupted, eyes narrowing at the relaxed individual.
he gleefully laughed. messy hair that curled by the tips falling into his eyes, casually brushed away with a quick ruffle. they’re paying attention to me! it’s working. i’m impressing them. ugh and their points are so smart too. please like me back! “you’re wasting your time over this,” you mumbled, voice shaking as the clock slowly ticked away. huh?
“with you? happily… just like romeo might i say. a hopeless romantic that knew the rules and still chose to defy it out of dedication to his precious juliet. they had love that fell through after everything they did, frankenstein’s monster never experienced love to that extent of a cruel heartbreak.” the bell rang before you could argue back, and as you witnessed the professor giving jaehyun a nod of approval, you knew he had won.
“yn! y-you were great back there. if possible, do you think–” his sentence was cut off as friends gathered around, drowning him with compliment after compliment as he lost sight of you in the crowd.
“jaehyun, that was awesome.”
“you totally beat the other group.”
“best literature debate ever.”
“professor jung must love you man.”
the room filled with praise being thrown left and right towards the man, classmates patting his back and pushing to get closer like he was a celebrity. and why wouldn’t they. after all, he was mr. popular. he probably wanted to talk to them over you.
so you sent him a smile, not that you think he could see it, and silently slipped away to prepare for your next class. jaehyun could only watch, regret filling his chest as he tried to push through only to find you had disappeared in the hallway. your smile. it didn’t reach up to your eyes like normal. he didn’t like that. not at all.
shoot, i think i messed up.
iii. operation “just ask them you wimp”
it was like the universe and all its higher beings were plotting against him. he sighed, throwing his head back and groaning at the way the sun was blaring down on the track team. “do you think coach will let me skip practice if i tell him i’m having chest pains?”
“from what? your unreciprocated crush or the fact that you can’t even ask them for their number because of your general wimpiness?”
his right hand grabbed his soaked towel, flinging towards an unsuspecting tired dongmin. at the graze of cold sweat, the nonchalant male yelped, pushing off his chair to avoid the cloth landing on him. he was beyond upset. never had he been so annoyed at the fact people liked him, but at this point, after two major tries and many other small ones, he really wished that he could just get you alone so he could ask for the damn number. jaehyun didn’t even know if you would give it, but at least he could relax at the knowledge that he tried.
the coach clapped his hands together gathering the attention of the other players, with a booming voice he announced, “the annual cross university sportsfest is coming up. i want my runners front and center that day, winning medal after medal. so training is gonna be an hour longer for the next few weeks.” the team groaned in protest, the coach rolling his eyes and waving away the sound. “complain all you want, i want winners at this event. so no slacking! so start running your laps.”
while the other students ran ahead, jaehyun failed to move his body. he was too mentally tired for this. head gently thumping against the metal pole that supported their one shaded rest spot.
“myung, i swear. do not test my patience today.”
“but coach–” he whined, a prominent pout on his lips, shaking the arm of his mentor only to get a grunt.
“run the laps. now.”
he grumbled. this is not worth it. sigh. if i had some sort of motivation, maybe then i’ll feel like running laps.
“isn’t that yn?” his head shot up looking ahead and like he heard, there you were. tattered shoulder bag weighing heavy on your left shoulder, clothes wrinkled after a long day of back to back classes, lunch bag swinging lightly after being emptied during your late lunch period.
his hand grabbed a random water bottle, pouring its little remnants over his head , snatching his phone from the chair before he ran with haste. feet padding in a rhythmic sequence across the track that looped around the field. the dusty brick red track bright against the shades of greens, browns, and gray that framed their campus. bits of gravel and sand swept in the air as his pace sped up, calling out in desperation, “yn! wait up!”
you turned around, the intense afternoon heat blocking your sight until it cleared away to introduce the male calling for you. “h-hi, hey, wow.”
“jaehyun, what’s up?”
he walked closer to the edge, catching his breath as he leaned against the laced metal railings. while he was clearly out of breath, panting audible between you two, his smile hadn’t faltered for a second. it was brilliant, drenched in sweat (it was just water actually), undeniable joy, and pure love that he had for you. did he know how cute he was like this?
“nothing much, just training for the usual sports event. coach gum is drilling us about it too.”
you dug around in your pocket pulling out a navy handkerchief with small embroidered ducks by its corners, smoothed it down, and handed it over. “here. it must be difficult in this heat. i should leave–”
“wait, before you go.”
“myung! less talking and more running!” the sound of the coach’s voice, lined with tense anger, sliced through the air. “i will go over there and make you run!”
“he’s bluffing. anyways, i was wondering… could i possibly get your number? only if you want of course. i just–”
“myung!”
he leaned closer, pouting as he thumbed at the ends of the piece of cloth you gave. “i was hoping we could get lunch sometime soon. maybe like a date? if you’d let me.”
your eyes switched between him and his fuming coach who was now flushing a bright red at the male’s defiance. how exactly was this the star player of the track team? “are you seriously doing this right now? you’re literally in the middle of practice.”
“well i tried a bunch of other times but i wasn’t having any luck with it. the hallway, the lecture hall, heck even on my way to the bathroom. i kept screwing it up someway, somehow and gosh, i just really like you yn. a lot. what do you say?”
“are you seriously ignoring me?”
myung jaehyun, resident campus crush of koz university, liked you. it didn’t matter that he was dripping in sweat, hair a dark mess clumped together with strands sticking out awkwardly, jersey slipping that bit revealing a shiny collarbone. you loved how natural it felt. he waited and you just sighed adoringly, heart softening at his sincere expression. with you holding your hand out, he gasped and rushed to give you his phone, almost dropping it in the process which made you giggle at his state.
“text me soon, okay? good luck with practice, jaehyun.”
as soon as you handed the device back, the number now inputted into his contacts list, he immediately hugged his phone against his chest. with a grin of delight, he kissed the handkerchief excitedly. “i’ll text you right now if you want.”
“myung jaehyun! do you want more laps?!”
“bye, yn.” his footsteps brushed against the rough path, hands grasping the cloth and device in each palm as he yelled, “give me the laps coach ‘cuz i can run forever now that i got their number! i finally got yn’s number! the world loves me and i love them! let’s go!!”
you laughed, the giddy smile on your face stuck as you watched your phone glow with a notification from said campus crush.
so about that date? - jae myung hyun
*myung jaehyun. sorry typo
taglist: @hironoshimura -> asked: @hraethy @honestlynae (ty for pressuring me lovely)
♰ a/n: bf woonhak headcannons wherein he’s too downbad so he lets you do anything you want to him and he WILL comply with whatever antics you’re up to. based on this clip 📼 yay! i had fun writing these and i hope yg have fun reading it too
nav
——
bf! woonhak who replies with “no” after you ask him to wash the dishes because you had just stolen his favorite character in mario party. in the same minute, he proceeds to make his way over to the sink anyway because he just wanted the feeling of saying no but couldn’t actually bring himself to mean it.
bf! woonhak who pretends to be irritated by you laughing at your reels just so you can show it to him. “why are you laughing so loud???!” “hak look 😭😭😭” you face your screen towards him and he bursts out into laughter. the two of you end up watching reels together for an hour straight until both of your cheeks start to hurt from laughing.
bf! woonhak who hates when his members tease him by lifting up the sleeves of his shirt to show his arm muscles but secretly loves when you do it to him. at first he’d be kinda shy but after knowing that you enjoy seeing his arms he lets you do it to him as many times as you want. sometimes he’d even do it himself while talking to you because he knows you’re going to get distracted.
bf! woonhak who can’t help but love when you start braiding his hair or when you give him little pigtails. his pride and ego completely dissipates when you’re around—he endures every moment if it means you’re having fun. he’d pretend to complain and yet once you stop and do something else on your phone, he’d look over and say, “…why’d you stop?”
bf! woonhak who is the type to be lying down on the couch perfectly at peace while listening to music. it stays like that until you flop down on him, which earns you the biggest groan known to mankind as if you had just crushed every bone in his body… in the middle of his little tantrum he doesn’t notice but one of his hands are already reaching to rub your back.
bf! woonhak who always HAS to take photobooth pictures with you because you have an obsession with them. every photobooth you see you must take. he would complain and say “it’s a waste of money and paper” yet he sticks it on his pegboard and decorates it as soon as he gets home.
bf! woonhak who cannot resist you fixing his hair in public, even if he’s grumbling, “stop… people are looking.” meanwhile, he’s already lowering his head just so you won’t have a hard time reaching it. same goes for fixing his collar whenever he likes to wear his loose polo over a tank top. he just thinks it’s cute that you want to make him look presentable anytime anywhere and lowkey wants to let others look.
bf! woonhak who gets afraid to move because you’re sleeping so comfortably on him. his legs could feel numb and like they’re about to fall off. he could desperately need a glass of water. but no. none of that is important enough for him to get up and disturb you.
bf! woonhak who always wants to pay for the food, no matter if it was his or your idea to eat out. “this one’s on me!” you say, holding your money up and blocking his hands from reaching into his wallet. he argues back saying he wants to do it but backs down seeing you get so happy to pay. you happily smile at him as he puts the money in the bill, not knowing he had already switched his with yours.
bf! woonhak who has gotten used to hearing, “hold this really quick,” before random things start getting thrown onto his hands. your phone. your bag. your shopping basket. at this point, he automatically reaches out and ends up holding your things for not a “really quick” time.
bf! woonhak who enjoys grocery shopping with you. normally, if he were alone, shopping for food would feel closer to a chore. but when you’re there, he loves it mostly because you keep trying to sneak snacks into the cart while insisting, “we need this.” he always notices but chooses to laugh and pay for them anyway.
bf! woonhak who wants to be needed by you. he still gets a little smile every time he hears you call his name from another room. no matter what he’s doing, he drops it and shouts his automatic answer, “coming!”
because living with you—even sharing the most ordinary days with you—means that things get twice as long to finish and simple moments turn into ones he’ll always remember. laundry takes more time because you keep distracting him and dinner comes by later because cooking turns into dancing in the kitchen. little by little, errands start feeling more like dates. and yet somehow, every inconvenience becomes his favorite part of the day, simply because it leads to spending more time with you.
🐈⬛ྀི beatle!han taesan x pop singer!reader ⸺ fem reader, fluff, 60s au, use of y/n, contains smoking 🎥 2,531 words
Despite being a rockstar, Dongmin can't stand the noise. The camera shutters (accompanied by annoying flashes), hysterical fans’ screams, and the constant murmuring of bystanders wherever he goes, as if he's either some sort of god or maniac.
Even in a small and quiet convenience store, tucked into a corner on the edge of the city, their faces are plastered on the front pages of newspapers and magazine covers. Which of course occupy the front of all the racks. He glances at them, his likeness staring back at him with that media trained smile, and adjusts his sunglasses.
The bell jingles behind him as the door’s pushed open again as the louder two of the group come in. Jaehyun, pulling his mariner cap up slightly and taking another drag of his cigarette, immediately pulls a colorful magazine, swirly fonts and popstar on the cover, from the rack.
Donghyun, (barely) disguised too with oversized sunglasses, walks over to him and smacks the back of the magazine. “Wow, Jae, didn't know you were secretly a teen girl.” But he ignores the boy. Flipping past fashion ads and celebrity gossip, his eyes light up and cigarette-donned lips grow into a grin when he lands on an article definitely written by a teenage fan.
“Han Dongmin and Y/n L/n, the music industry's next and new ‘it couple’ that don't even know they are.” He reads aloud in a boisterous, mock-announcer voice; Thank god the store's empty or else Jaehyun’s tomfoolery would've caused a riot.
All eyes, except for the bored cashier who looks on the verge of falling asleep, turn to Dongmin, whose cheeks have betrayingly turned pink. “What even—This is so stupid.” He walks over to the pair, snatching the mag from Jaehyun and glancing through it, trying to act nonchalant despite his very chalantly toned face.
He stuffs it back into the rack. “I can't believe they even printed this.”
“Is there something you want to tell us, Dongminnie?” Jaehyun leans in, teasing grin evident in his voice.
“Wha— I, I don't even know her!”
“Yet.” Woonhak adds as he joins them, arms full of candy, shoving his raised brows and toothy grin in Dongmin’s face. “Oh, shut up.” Dongmin grumbles, shoving past them, but not without snatching a pack from the younger’s arms.
“Ooh, someone's blushinggg!” Jaehyun sings, while Donghyun shuffles through the magazine again to get a proper read of the article. Embarrassed and annoyed, he throws a packet of cigarettes and the bag of stolen candy onto the counter, which wakes up the cashier, when, somehow, the boys’ ruckus didn't.
He pays, and just as he gathers his things, he hears, again, from the same rack of periodicals at the door, “their exchanges through the screens and papers are more romantic than a bouquet of flowers and box of chocolates.”
“Wow, she sure has a way with words.” Jaehyun says, glancing at the magazine over Donghyun’s shoulder, who then continues reading out loud, “despite never even meeting (which would probably cause me a heart attack when it does happen), they still manage to be more romantic than my long term boyfriend. (You know who you are, J.)”
“Well she better be sent to a hospital soon since we're probably going to meet Y/n tomorrow!” Woonhak says between laughs, throwing a glance at Dongmin to rile him up again.
“What are you talking about?”
“Did you forget?” Donghyun sets the magazine back down. “We have that event tomorrow with a bunch of celebrities—including known singers that come from the same country as you and I and Y/n.”
“I am staying far away from you guys tomorrow night.”
“Because you’ll be staying close to Y/nnn.” Woonhak teases.
Smack!
“Ow! Throwing gummies at me was so uncalled for!”
…
“Wait, not the cigarettes! I’m sorry—!”
“You boys better behave tonight. You’re going to be in a room surrounded by reporters and celebrities.”
“When have we ever let you down?” Woonhak says, smiling confidently at their manager through the mirror as he fixes his hair, earning an unamused look.
Their manager turns to the boy tying his tie next to him. “Jaehyun, please don't get carried away with the drinks. I don’t want a repeat of last time.”
“I didn't get carried away…”
“You hid under tables and threatened to romance everyone’s grandmas.”
“And you actually kissed someone's grandma!” Donghyun adds, earning a scowl from Jaehyun. Their manager gives them all a final look of warning before leaving the room, ruffling Dongmin’s hair as he passes by.
The moment the door shuts, the boys abandon their reflections, leap at the couch, and the TV switches on.
“Someone's been quiet…” Jaehyun looks back at a certain guitarist, who’s busy buttoning his shirt and ignoring his bandmates’ oncoming teasing.
“I’m busy getting ready.”
“Busy getting ready for Y/nnn.” Woonhak wiggles his brows, and the guitarist scoffs. “With the way you guys always talk about her, I’m convinced you guys like her.”
“At least I didn't write a song about her.”
“I– Wha– No I didn't!”
A few weeks prior…
“So, Y/n, I heard you’re a fan of the Boys Next Door.” It's strange how every time you're being interviewed now, the band is mentioned one way or another without fail. You nod, and the interviewer continues, “have you heard their newest single?”
“Oh, yes, I really loved it. Especially the lyrics. Whoever wrote it is a lyrical genius.” You let out a small laugh at the end to disguise your embarrassment at getting so excited over something so small. It's not your fault you’re a music nerd.
“Oh really? Well, maybe you can have Dongmin write a song for your next album!”
Dongmin? Your heart stuttered. Of course he wrote it, and of course you had to compliment his song like that.
“You know, some people say that the lyrics are actually about you.”
You blink, lips parting with surprise. The melody starts playing in your head—the addictive guitar, the excitement and soothing nature of the song, the way the words roll off his tongue. You can feel your palms sweat from just the thought of his voice singing about you.
“Me?” You nearly stuttered. “I don't even know him—do people really think that?”
The interviewer nods, and you look away shyly.
How could that even be true? He wrote a love song! Supposedly about you of all people!
He remembers watching the interview—it’d just started playing, and he couldn't help but feel a little . Thank god his bandmates weren't there, or else he’d never hear the end of it.
“I bet he’s thinking about her..” he hears someone snicker, snapping him out of his flashback with a blink. “Ah, there he is! What were you thinking of? Something domestic or a little more—”
“I wasn't thinking of anything! I was just,” he clears his throat, his defensive tone definitely not helping his case, “thinking about this article I saw the other day.”
“That still counts as thinking.” Donghyun raises a brow, resting his arms and chin on the back of the couch.
He glances back at the three boys on the couch, staring at him with teasing smiles and a devious twinkle in their eyes, the TV playing thoughtlessly in the background, now devoid of their attention. He turns back, fidgeting with his tie in the mirror and dropping his head to shield the growing flush on his cheeks.
“Don't you guys have to get ready? We're leaving in less than an hour.”
“Pshh, what are you? Our manager?” Woonhak says a little too confidently, when just as he says that, the door opens.
“I am.”
Dongmin watches the color drain from their faces and they move the quickest he's ever seen. But not even a minute later when he focuses back on his own reflection, the thought of a certain someone drifts back into his mind again.
The black and white image from the TV—he can remember all the colors of the room, since he's been there before—the white walls covered in colorful patterns and the deep orange couch that just somehow works. He guesses the colors of you, he knows your hair and eye color from record covers (not that he looks intentionally), and he imagines how good pink would look good on you. Or maybe your outfit's blue. No, pink fits better. And your eyeshadow would definitely match your—
“You tell your friends to get ready yet you're lost in your own little bundle of clouds.” Dongmin jumps, meeting his manager’s raised brow in the mirror. He sighs, ruffling the boy’s hair yet again before leaving, which he quickly smooths down. Then, like a hopeless, lovesick fool, he imagines himself smoothing his hair down while his calendar's marked with your name.
God, he's hopeless.
He misses the days when the only flashing he saw when he stepped out of a car was that crazy guy that ran around the streets naked; instead he's mobbed by angry camera flashes and a jumbled orchestra of their names. He's pretty sure some of the reporters behind the barricades aren't even local.
The inside isn't any better—actors, actresses, singers, and other well-dressed famous people huddle in small groups and sip expensive drinks. Photographers line the walls while journalists drown themselves in questions and clouds of smoke.
Jaehyun immediately runs to the bar, their manager too busy talking to some company exec or producer or whoever to notice. The younger two lock onto a pair of models, leaving Dongmin awkwardly standing next to their manager, eyeing the room, like a kid in a store while their mom chats with a friend.
He makes many observations, some that are better to be kept to himself, some not surprising at all. Everyone’s with someone—people catching up with each other, older men trying to score a younger gal, Woonhak and Dongyun still flirting with models. And you.
His eyes freeze. He feels like a guy in those movies when they spot a pretty girl and the camera zooms in and their eyes widen and wind blows on their hair. Standing against the wall, drink in hand, scanning the room like it's a hobby rather than anxiousness. Even from a distance you look beautiful. Your hair frames your face and your dress color suits you more than pink ever could.
Speaking of pink, he really hopes no one's looking at him since he can feel his cheeks heat up. He glances at his manager, who’s still talking to the stereotypical industry guy-in-suit, before hesitantly making his way to you. His eyes are so trained on you that he bumps into a chair and apologizes to it.
You don't notice him coming up to you until he lets out a small “hi.” You turn to see him nervously smiling at you, head tilted down slightly, hands in his pockets (to stop him from fidgeting like a teenager talking to their crush).
“Hi.” You blink back at him.
You’ve never seen him nervous before; it completely breaks this cool, confident image you've always had of him. The quiet, mysterious guitarist. Whose lyrics make you feel like every song's about you. And maybe they are. (At least the last one was.)
Your fingers flex against the glass, and you pray your cheeks haven't betrayed you, though the rest of your face certainly has because you're looking at him like you're a Victorian man staring at an ankle.
“Y/n, right?”
“Yeah.” You smile. At him. Even if it's just one of those polite smiles he can already feel the butterflies graze the edges of his stomach. “And you're Dongmin? The guy whose picture’s been appearing beside mine for the past few weeks.”
“Yeah..” he lets out a small laugh. “I,” he pauses as to not stumble over his words, “I’ve been listening to your songs lately. They're really good.”
You blink. He’s been listening to your songs? “Really?”
“Yeah. I even saw you perform on TV the other week.”
The last time you performed on TV was the same show where you talked about his song! Oh gosh, what if he heard you gush over his lyrics?
“Oh, well, I think your music’s good too. I think you're a great singer..” your voice quiets at the end, and you look away in embarrassment. “I think you should sing more often.”
When he doesn't say anything, your heart drops a little. Did you say something wrong? What if the press was wrong and he doesn't like you? You turn to him, brows scrunched, only to be met with pink cheeks and parted lips.
You stare at him, and he blinks the shock away. “O– oh. Thanks..” he smiles meekly, before internally cursing himself for stuttering. Before he can stop himself, the words come tumbling out. “You look really pretty tonight.”
“Oh!” Your expression shifts into surprise, which he thinks, along with the pink on your cheeks that he can't tell if it's makeup or a blush, is absolutely adorable. “Thanks. I just can't believe you find me pretty.”
“What— me? What does that mean?”
“You're freaking Han Dongmin!”
“Yeah, but you're…beautiful.”
Your breath hitches and your heart starts beating so fast you can feel it in your head. Did he just call you beautiful? Suddenly your dress feels too itchy and your glass too cold. His face falls—you haven't said a word and you’re staring at him with those wide eyes that he’d normally blush over but are now making him worried. Did he say something wrong? Do you not like him? Do you—
“I..thanks. You look pretty too. Pretty handsome! You look..handsome.”
He laughs softly, though he can feel the heat rise in his face, and you furrow your brows. “Hey, what’s so funny?”
“Nothing, nothing.” He shakes his head. “Thank you.”
You glare at him for a moment, before shifting to a soft smile and nodding. You both look down, silence filling the space between you like clouds do the sky.
“By the way,” he says. You look up, and he's looking down at you with a nervous smile, the corners of his lips twitching as if he's holding back from full on grinning like a fool. “That single is about you.”
Is Ynmin finally official!? (And yes, the lady’s name always goes first.)
Last night the two were seen “talking”, though it looks more like flirting to me, which marks their first official interaction!! My two worlds are finally colliding!! Someone hold me while I pass out from excitement. Nothing's made me so giddy before, maybe except when my boyfriend, J, asked me out. Maybe. No, I think my two favorite singers meeting is definitely more exciting. Sorry babe!
Their blushes are still so visible despite the photos being black and white, which means there is totally something going on. Wait, does this confirm that the Boys Next Door’s latest single is about Y/n?? Oh Han Dongmin, you are NOT sneaky. And the fact that he sung it too even though he rarely does really means something… Maybe it's because no one else can read out his love letter to her.
wrote this while listening to my help! vinyl (for the hundredth time this week) also lmk if the small text is hard to read!!
synopsis: taesan had been struck with a curse. a strange curse that wouldn't allow him from walking past the weird food stall on his way to work. it was most definitely a curse... a curse with the word "chestnut" written all over it!
"You look like a guy with taste, try some of our roasted chestnut samples!"
Taesan blinked at the pile of warmly toasted chestnuts shoved in front of his face, backing up a little at the lack of space.
"Erm..."
Behind the wall of nuts, a kind face watched on in pure determination, unmoving.
He had no idea why he did what he did next, but he did it anyway.
Wary fingers grazed the top of the chestnut pile. He grabbed one. Barely getting a proper hold on it.
The girl behind the stall jumped with joy, a wonderfully delicate smile to her lips.
"Great choice, Sir!"
Her unexpected excitement earned him a flinch.
He studied your face, a little perplexed as to how anyone could enjoy their job this much.
Especially when the job was advocating for roasted chestnuts in the middle of a blazing heatwave.
"This is our salted caramel and cinnamon-flavoured chestnut! Have a taste!"
You urged him with your hands, full attention zoned in on his every move, then you immediately double backed.
"Wait... you're not allergic to nuts, are you?"
This was probably the quietest he heard you speak, so far.
Blinking once, then twice, Taesan thought for a moment.
"I...don't think so?—"
"Great!" You beamed all the more, a heavy sense of expectation washing over your glassy eyes.
You completely ignored the possibility that he could be allergic to nuts, and just might not know it.
If he had to be completely honest, Taesan felt peer pressured....to eat a chestnut.
In the middle of Seoul's busiest street.
In 35 degree weather.
He was starting to think you were unaware of the circumstances, or perhaps you were just immune to the heat and clinically insane.
Either way, there was no chance your business would sell, and because of that, he felt slightly bad. Just a bit. Enough for him to sigh reluctantly before popping the steaming chestnut in his mouth.
Oh...wow.
Your eyes grew triple their size, a cheekiness possessing your features as you smirked.
"It's good, right?"
You leaned over your stall, wanting to get a closer look at his face.
Surprisingly, it was rather pleasant. The flavour danced in his mouth like a romantic elopement. It was admittedly a little too good for such a horrid marketing strategy.
"It's not bad." He replied simply.
You grinned anyway.
"Wanna try our other flavours?"
"Uh," he patted himself down looking for nothing in particular, anything to make himself appear busy. "I don't think I have the time right now. Maybe next time."
An awkward wave later, and he was lost behind the curtains of the crowd.
Yet, weirdly enough, he found himself standing near the very same stall the next day.
Sighing, he shook his head lightly, muttering to himself.
"Why am I even here?"
This wasn't planned.
Well... yeah, no. Totally not planned. This was the way to the office. It's not like his legs walked him all the way over there without so much as an explanation.
He just wanted to see how badly your business was doing.
Yeah. That's what it was.
Brown orbs watched on as you busied yourself roasting chestnuts the size of golf balls, rolling them into flavoured coatings with practiced ease.
Like the main character in a fairytale, you smiled throughout the whole thing.
As if you were unaware of the absolute doom that would await your bank account if you kept at this weird sales mechanism.
One step.
Then another.
Somehow, he found himself gravitating closer to your vibrant stall.
"Mr. Moody Customer!"
Taesan jumped.
"You're here! Again." Your smile reached your eyes, your arms leaning against the rail of your stall.
Scratching the back of his neck, Taesan cleared his throat.
"I see you're here today too."
You lazily nodded. "Indeed, I am."
A long, passing moment crawled between you both as you continued to stare at him.
"Well then!—"
You clapped your hands loudly, startling him once again.
"Would you like to taste another flavour today?"
He hadn't even answered when you turned around, already reaching for your pile of freshly roasted nuts. Grabbing a bunch at random, you plopped about three of them on a small paper plate.
"Today's flavour is..." you shook the chestnuts in front of him, urging for him to place his choice.
He looked at you like a lost child in a packed shopping mall. Unsure, and unpredictably confused. He wasn't exactly in the mood for chestnuts today, and he sure as hell wasn't the type to concede purely on the count of people-pleasing.
So why was it so hard for him to say no?
"Actually, I don't think I want—"
His dark eyes met yours in the middle of him reciting his rejection.
...
He ate the chestnut.
He doesn't even know which one. Doesn't remember his hand even going for one.
All he knew is that one minute he was talking, the next, he was chewing on something tangy and...
"Amazing!" You cheered like he found the answer to world peace. "You picked the new flavour I've been working on! So, how is it?"
Gosh, it was so hot. The sun hitting down on his skin, the scorching tingle of the chestnut against his tongue, the tinge of acid making its way through his throat.
"Is this... salt?"
"Yup! Salted Lemon and Strawberry Cheesecake!"
What happened to the 'strawberry cheesecake' part?
It was like 5 different flavours were fighting for a spot on the primal tastebud throne-room. It was so bad. But he couldn't possibly let you know that. Not when you were gazing at him with such hope and purity. The kind of eyes that peer at you with joyful glee and cotton candy-shaped expectations—
"It's bad."
Oh.
Apparently he could tell the truth in dire situations. Well, what do you know.
The light on your face very slowly dimmed into an expressionless, faraway stare.
Taesan swallowed harshly. "I mean, it's not bad bad. It's more like a... 'what just happened' kinda bad."
"Uh-huh." You soullessly murmured, not following anything of what he was saying.
"So what I'm saying is, that depending on the way you look at it, it can be good too!" He highly doubted that, but he wasn't going to dig himself deeper.
"You just have to work on the execution. The rest is great." His tone of voice was so unconvincing that he had to close his eyes for a moment, just to savour his awful attempt at lying. He was usually better at it than this.
You remained unresponsive. He watched you closely, sharp eyes tracking every nuance of your reaction. Sighing, Taesan shoved the other two flavoured chestnuts on the paper plate down his throat, feigning pleasure.
"Mmm!" His eye twitched in retaliation, his body awakening survival mode despite himself.
Quickly assessing the amount of chestnuts you had made, Taesan piped up.
"I'll take ten of your salted lemon and strawberry cheesecake chestnuts, please."
At this, you finally found the strength to meet his mildly petrified orbs. "Really?!" Catching yourself off guard with the volume of your voice, your shoulders folded in on themselves, ashamed. You made eye contact, your brows rising in surprise. "Really?" You repeated, quieter this time.
Taesan didn't have the strength nor the current mind-to-body articulation to form a coherent sentence due to the flavour landmine going off in his mouth, so he merely nodded.
You beamed.
"Okay!"
You quickly packed all your chestnuts into a brown paper bag and happily redirected it into his hands.
Taesan stared at the chestnuts.
"Word of advice," he started, his eyes still emptily hooked on the warm bag resting against his chest. "Make it less 'salted lemon,' and more 'strawberry cheesecake.'"
And with that, you watched him disappear into the morning crowd with an uncharacteristic rush to his steps. As naïve as can be, your lips pulled into a small smile.
He must've really liked them.
🌰ᢉ𐭩 .ᐟ ──── at the office ──── 𐭩ᢉ🌰
A firm plop brought the attention of a certain pretty-faced colleague to life.
"What's this?" Leehan, Taesan's accounting assistant asked in pure curiosity. His fingers went to prod at the brown paper bag in no time, round eyes blinking over its opening.
"It's for you." Taesan didn't bother to elaborate, simply taking his seat across from the other male's workspace.
Leehan raised a brow. "Since when do you get me gifts?"
"Since now." The taller male plopped into his chair, putting his glasses on and opening a document he'd been working on for the past few days.
A few quiet minutes went by. His fingers grazed against each key as his typing grew fiercer. The sound came to a sudden stop when his elbows met the table top.
Looking over the divider, Taesan's thin spectacles found Leehan's big eyes.
"How about some coffee? Do you want some coffee? I'm going to get coffee." He got up in a flash, his mouth twisted with the lingering flavours of the cursed chestnut.
Once Taesan was out of sight, Leehan's hand dug into the bag. He grabbed a chestnut—stared at it a little, in sheer amazement of its size—then popped it in his mouth.
...
"Hey, Riwoo. Want some chestnuts?"
🐾⸝⸝⸝ Ⳋ ─ ᢉ𐭩 .ᐟ 🌰 a few days later 🌰 .ᐟ 𐭩ᢉ ─ Ⳋ ⸝⸝⸝ ᢉ𐭩 🐾
Okay. This was getting ridiculous.
"Why hello there, Mr. Moody Customer!"
It wasn't even the morning anymore.
Usually, you'd be out by the time his lunch break rolled over. Yet, somehow, here you were, despite him purposefully taking multiple different routes to work each morning, for the past few days.
You just had to catch him on his lunch break.
"I have a name, you know." Taesan replied with a small sigh, already expecting to be bombarded by random chestnut suggestions.
You gave a theatrical nod. "I believe everyone does, but you haven't told me yours yet. So I will stick with the one I gave you!"
You smiled. That darn smile that made him do things that he'd never usually do. Guilt tripping must've been your specialty.
He opted to say nothing, just looking at you with the little energy he had left after dealing with an in-depth meeting with the financial directors a measly 30 minutes ago.
"You appear to be tired."
At your manner of speech, his eyes focused on you more. "Have you always spoken so formally?"
"I only do so when my favourite customer is in a bad mood!"
He deadpanned.
"I'm your only customer."
"Which makes you my favourite!"
He watched the grin on your face bloom into a heartfelt chuckle. He had no clue why you were laughing—it wasn't even a joke—but for some strange reason, he found himself drawn to the airy sound of your happiness. How annoyingly persistent.
"How about I fix you up some nice, piping chestnuts? These ones are brown sugar and butter-honey."
His eyes followed your movements.
"I don't think that's necessary—"
"—Nonsense! It's on the house."
That was even worse. With the way you were moving, you'd be in debt by dawn!
"I'll pay for them."
"No, no, no. It's my treat. See it as a token of my appreciation for you. A sample of my heart, if you will!"
"You'll go bankrupt."
"I beg your pardon?"
Silence.
"I said, thank you for the samples."
You blinked, slowly processing his words of gratitude.
"Ah, of course! Whenever you're having a bad day, just come over. A few warm chestnuts always do the trick!"
Whoever told you that growing up, likely lied to you. But Taesan knew better than to voice his opinions, so he kept his mouth shut and pulled a polite smile.
"Right." He said, his fingers brushing against yours as you exchanged the bag of nuts. His heart did a little thing. He wondered if it was from ingesting too many nuts in the short timespan of a week.
Anyway, how was he going to get through these, now? There were a good twenty, give or take, inside the paper bag.
"Hope you feel better soon!"
Looking you over one last time, he gave the smallest nod, before tentatively making his way to his favourite lunch spot.
At the small restaurant, Sungho waited for him patiently. His fingers scrolled through his phone with impressive speed as he busied himself in the recent news stories.
"I'm here." Came Taesan's voice, a little worn down from the day's activities.
Sungho, a mate of his that happened to be working in the company across the street, looked up to find Taesan taking his seat.
"Oh, hi." He returned his attention to the article on his phone. "Did you see what I sent you yesterday?"
Taesan stilled in his seat. "You sent me something?"
"Yeah, you know. The thing." Sungho replied simply, having put his phone face-down on the table.
"The thing...what thing?"
"The thing!" Sungho insisted, utterly offended by his long-term friend.
The taller male sighed, shaking his head with little effort.
"Okay, you know what? I've had a long day—"
"It's 12:35—"
"Can we please just get lunch?"
"But what about the thing?"
"WhAT THiNG?!—"
"Hi, welcome to 'Hotter Than Your Ex', are you ready to place your orders?"
Sungho's eyes slid over to the waiter very briefly, then found Taesan's brown paper bag. His lips hung open in betrayal.
"What the—did you already get lunch?"
"No." Taesan replied shortly, flitting through the pages of the menu. "I'll get the Pork Fritter with Marinara sauce, please."
The waiter nodded, jotting down his preference, then turned to the agitated, blonde-haired male.
"And you, sir?"
Unconvinced by Taesan's answer, Sungho's eyes narrowed to slits. Nevertheless, he still placed his order.
"I'll have the House Special Poke Bowl, please, and thank you."
"Great! It won't be long." The waiter left.
Approximately 10 seconds went by where no one spoke.
"So, what's in the bag?"
Wordlessly, the dark haired male moved the paper bag closer to his shorter friend.
"Chestnuts? Who buys roasted chestnuts during a heatwave?"
"I didn't buy them." With a roll of his eyes and intertwined arms, Taesan slid further down his seat as he watched his friend try one.
"Oh, these are really nice. Mind if I have some?"
Taesan's sharp eyes studied Sungho. "Don't eat all of them," Was all he said.
After all, you did pack them for him.
It'd be rude for him not to have the majority of them. Yeah...
Gosh, it was like all he could think about was chestnuts these days. Stupid chestnuts!
⸝⸝⸝ 🌰 Ⳋ 𐭩 ✧˚ ༘ ♥︎ more ᢉ days ♥︎ later ᢉ 𐭩 Ⳋ 🌰 ⸝⸝⸝ ♥︎ ✧˚ ༘
"Wow, I didn't know you liked chestnuts this much. You've practically been here everyday!" your voice called out as you packed him what you discovered to be his most-bought flavour.
Salted caramel and cinnamon. The first one he ever tried from you.
"Yeah, well. I got to stay loyal to my calling."
You snorted, eyeing him with a gentle look. "And buying my chestnuts at eight in the morning is your calling now?"
He shrugged, taking the bag from your hands. You shared a touch, his fingers lingering a nanosecond longer than usual. "Apparently."
Actually, he had no idea why he kept coming over, buying bags upon bags of chestnuts he knew he wouldn't finish.
He didn't even like chestnuts.
You both exchanged brief greetings— Taesan having overpaid for his order whilst very convincingly telling you to keep the change—before parting ways.
Unbeknownst to you, he turned around once more when he was far enough away for you not to spot him. You had continued roasting chestnuts and trying to wave down passing civilians.
Nobody even blinked an eye.
Taesan sighed, his lids lowering the longer he stared at your fruitless efforts.
Guess it really was his calling.
At the office, Taesan's dress shoes resonated with satisfying clicks and clacks against the marbled floor of the building. Emerging through the door to his shared working space, he dropped his load of chestnuts on the largest office table, usually used for group discussions.
An aroma he hd grown to familiarise with you began to fill the room. Without so much as a single explanation, he began to share the various brown paper bags. Gently lowering them on each desk like they were worth millions.
Jaehyun, one of his colleagues that always appeared to be early, watched him quietly—for a singular second, until he had to inquire what the heck was going on. "Hey, why have you got so many chestnuts?... in the middle of summer?"
Taesan halted in the middle of plopping a paper bag in front of Leehan's empty desk. "Because... I was hungry?"
"For this many?"
"I was feeling benevolent."
Jaehyun blinked.
"Again, for this many?"
Taesan's forehead creased, his brows raising in fake innocence. "Yeah, I guess. Why're you so shocked? You think I'm heartless or something?"
"No, no. It's not that, but..."
The tall male waited patiently, cocking his head to the side, arms tightly crossed over his chest.
"You do realise half the people in this office hate chestnuts, right?"
Jaehyun blinked up at him from his seat, finally having the gall to finish his sentence. His face took a totally astonished turn, a heavy sense of bewilderment and amusement in his calculative gaze.
"Can you please just...eat your chestnuts?" A defeated sigh left Taesan.
Then Woonhak waltzed in with a brightening, "Good morning!" His nose caught it before his eyes. With his youthful gaze, he twisted and turned, taking in the sight of all the random paper bags and the sweet aroma exuding from within them.
An aroma he knew all too well as a designated foodie.
Finally, after closer inspection, and one look at Jaehyun's constipated expression—which was failing ever so terribly to not burst out laughing there and then—Woonhak asked, "Why so many chestnuts?"
"Oh, for crying out loud!"
And that's the story of how a single chestnut sample changed Taesan (and the office's) whole life.
/ᐠ. .ᐟ\ ── ‧₊˚ 🌰 how was ♥︎ your sample? 🌰 ˚₊‧ ──/ᐠ. .ᐟ\
warnings: use of alcohol, drunk kissing, slight fear of rejection
a/n: finally finished this (after days of it side-eyeing me) sorry if it feels rushed 😔
It’s the middle of the night—3 a.m. exactly—when your phone starts ringing and drags you violently out of sleep. The sound slices through the quiet of your apartment, sharp and insistent, vibrating against the wooden surface of your bedside table. You groan into your pillow, disoriented and irritated, eyes still half-closed as you roll over and fumble blindly for the device. Your fingers knock over a hair tie and brush the lamp before finally closing around your phone.
“What idiot is calling me at this hour.” you mutter, your voice thick with sleep and annoyance.
You squint at the screen, ready to decline the call without hesitation, but the name glowing back at you wipes the irritation clean off your face.
Jaehyun.
Your best friend.
Sleep evaporates instantly. Your body goes rigid as your mind leaps to a dozen catastrophic possibilities. He never calls this late. Not unless something is wrong. Your heart begins to pound so loudly you’re sure you can hear it in your ears as you swipe to answer.
“Jae?” you breathe, already sitting upright. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”
There’s a pause on the other end, just long enough for panic to bloom in your chest.
And then—
He giggles.
Actually giggles.
“I’m outside the bar,” he slurs, his voice loose and syrupy. There’s a soft hiccup in between his words. “It’s cold. They kicked us out ‘cause it got late, and the guys said I should call you. I told them you were sleeping, pretty girl, but they insisted. I’m sorry.”
Relief crashes over you so suddenly your shoulders sag with it. He’s not hurt. He’s not bleeding. He’s not stranded somewhere dangerous.
He’s just drunk.
Very, very drunk.
You press a hand to your forehead and exhale shakily. “Which bar?”
There’s dramatic groaning on the other end, as if you’ve asked him to solve advanced calculus instead of read a sign.
“Hold on,” he mutters, and you can practically picture him squinting at something. “The—Blue Lounge.” He reads it slowly, over-enunciating each word like a child. Then he snorts. “Stupid name. There isn’t even a lounge.”
Despite yourself, a small laugh escapes you as you push your blankets aside and swing your legs over the bed. The floor is cold beneath your feet, but your nerves are buzzing too loudly for you to care. You flick on your bedside lamp and reach for the first warm hoodie you can find.
“Stay where you are,” you instruct firmly. “I mean it. Don’t move.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies solemnly, and then giggles again like the order itself is the funniest thing he’s ever heard.
You hang up, already tugging on sweatpants and shoving your feet into sneakers. You grab your keys, your wallet, and your phone charger out of habit before heading for the door, typing the bar’s name into Google Maps as you get into your car. Thankfully, it’s not far. Ten minutes, maybe less.
The streets are nearly empty at this hour. Streetlights cast long golden reflections on the pavement, and the city feels strangely hushed, like it’s holding its breath. You drive a little faster than you probably should, your thoughts racing despite knowing he’s fine. The image of him sitting somewhere cold and unsteady makes your chest ache in a way you don’t examine too closely.
When you turn onto the bar’s street, you spot him immediately.
Jaehyun is sitting on the pavement outside, his back against the brick wall, shoulders hunched against the night air. His head tips back lazily as if he’s studying the sky. Leehan and Riwoo linger nearby, both swaying slightly in place, and Mei stands between them with the exhausted patience of someone who did not sign up to babysit three grown men.
You park quickly and step out of the car. The cool air bites at your cheeks as you approach.
Mei’s eyes find you first, and relief washes over her face. “You’re a lifesaver,” she says, shoving Leehan gently toward her car. “They were about to start singing.”
“Oh no,” you murmur.
“It was tragic,” she confirms. “Drive safe, okay?”
“You too.”
She manages to wrangle Leehan and Riwoo into her car with surprising efficiency, leaving you alone with your particular disaster.
“Jae,” you call softly.
His head snaps up at the sound of your voice. For a moment, he just stares at you as if making sure you’re real. Then recognition dawns, and his entire face lights up. The grin that spreads across his features is wide, unguarded, almost childlike in its delight.
“Pretty girl,” he breathes reverently. “You came.”
The way he says it makes your heart do something traitorous in your chest.
“Of course I did,” you reply, stepping closer.
He attempts to stand and nearly topples sideways. You lunge forward on instinct, sliding an arm around his waist to steady him. He’s heavier than he looks, his weight sagging into you without hesitation, like he trusts you entirely to keep him upright. The scent of alcohol hits you full force, mixed with his cologne and something distinctly him.
“Jeez,” you mutter. “How much did you drink? You smell like a winery.”
He squints at you seriously and holds his fingers an inch apart. “Only this much.”
“Liar.”
He leans further into you, his forehead almost knocking against yours, and presses a sloppy kiss to the side of your head. “My pretty girl,” he murmurs again, the words warm against your temple.
“Okay, that’s enough,” you protest, trying to maneuver him toward the car while dodging his attempts to pepper your face with more kisses. “You’re going to be mortified when you remember this.”
“Sober me is boring,” he informs you gravely.
Getting him into the backseat is an ordeal that involves a lot of negotiation and one very dramatic complaint about gravity. You manage to buckle him in without him hitting his head on the doorframe, then rush around to the driver’s seat before he decides to unbuckle himself for fun.
The drive back is filled with his soft humming. He stares out the window like the passing streetlights are the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. At one point, he leans forward between the seats.
“You’re really pretty,” he says with absolute sincerity.
“You’ve said that already.”
“I know,” he replies. “Just making sure you don’t forget.”
Your fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel.
Back at your apartment, the real challenge begins. You half-carry him inside, his arm slung heavily around your shoulders, his steps uneven and unpredictable. He laughs at nothing in particular as you fumble with your keys and finally get the door open.
The moment you guide him to the couch, he drops onto it with a dramatic sigh, sprawling across the cushions as if he’s run a marathon instead of spent the night drinking.
The second you step away to grab him water, his fingers hook stubbornly into the hem of your shirt.
“Don’t go, pretty girl.”
“I’m getting water,” you reassure him gently, prying his hand loose. “I’ll be right back.”
He watches you like you might vanish if he blinks.
When you return, he’s leaning so far to one side that he looks seconds away from sliding onto the floor. You set the glass down and guide him upright, your hand steady at his shoulder.
“Drink,” you instruct.
He obeys without argument, sipping slowly until he’s satisfied. A small drop of water escapes the corner of his mouth, and you wipe it away absentmindedly with your thumb. His eyes follow the movement with surprising focus.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, softer now.
You nod, about to step back, when his hand closes around your wrist.
Before you can react, he tugs gently. You lose your balance and stumble forward, bracing your hands on the couch beside his shoulders. Your knee presses into the cushion between his legs to keep yourself from falling completely.
And then his lips are on yours.
For a split second, everything stops.
The room, the air, the sound of your own breathing—it all vanishes.
Jaehyun is kissing you.
Your best friend is kissing you.
Your brain short-circuits. You freeze, heart slamming against your ribs. His lips are warm and clumsy, tasting faintly of mint and alcohol. He kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s been waiting and finally lost the restraint to hold back.
But he’s drunk.
You pull away carefully, your breath shaky. “Jae, you’re drunk.”
He follows your movement, chasing your mouth. “Let me,” he whispers. “Please.”
“Jae,” you say more firmly, pressing your palm lightly against his chest to create space. “No.”
Something shifts in his expression at your tone. The playful drunken haze dims. His features soften, and what remains isn’t mischievous or reckless.
It’s vulnerable.
“I need you to listen to me,” he says quietly. His words are still slightly slurred, but there’s a clarity underneath them now. “I know I’m drunk. But I’m not lying.”
Your throat tightens.
“I’ve liked you for so long it actually hurts,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “I tried to ignore it. I told myself it was just comfort. Just habit. Just you being you.” He lets out a weak, humorless laugh. “But every time you talk about another guy, something in me twists. And I stand there smiling like it’s fine because I’d rather suffer quietly than lose you.”
The confession lands heavily between you.
“You’re my favorite person,” he says. “My safest place. I didn’t want to ruin that. I was terrified that if I told you, you’d step back. That I’d see distance in your eyes where there’s always been warmth.”
His grip on your wrist loosens, as if he’s afraid of holding you too tightly now.
“But pretending got harder,” he admits. “Every day. The more I tried to stop liking you, the more I realized I don’t want to stop. I don’t want less. I want more. I want you. Not just as my best friend. Not just as my person at three in the morning. I want to be the one you choose. Sober. Fully aware. Every day.”
Your heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of your chest.
“You don’t mean that,” you whisper, because believing him feels too dangerous.
“I do,” he insists softly. “And if you don’t feel the same, just don’t disappear on me. Reject me gently. But don’t take yourself away.”
Silence stretches long and fragile.
“Tomorrow,” you manage finally, your voice trembling. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. When you’re sober.”
He studies your face like he’s memorizing it, then nods slowly. “Okay.”
Exhaustion crashes into him suddenly. You help him lie back properly, slipping his shoes off and tucking a blanket around his shoulders. Within minutes, his breathing evens out, deep and steady.
Only then do you allow yourself to fall apart.
He likes you.
And the terrifying, beautiful truth is that you like him too.
You sit on the edge of the couch for a long time, staring at his sleeping face. Memories flood your mind in relentless waves: late-night study sessions, inside jokes, the way he always walks on the outside of the sidewalk, how he remembers your coffee order without asking. All the moments that felt charged but were never acknowledged now glow with new meaning.
You don’t sleep much that night.
Morning arrives far too quickly, sunlight spilling through your curtains in unforgiving brightness. You wake with your heart already racing, the events of the night replaying in vivid detail.
You stall.
You shower slowly. You tidy your bedroom. You make your bed with unnecessary precision. You wipe down the kitchen counter even though it’s already clean. Anything to delay facing him.
Eventually, there’s nothing left to reorganize.
When you step into the living room, he’s awake, sitting upright on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees. His hair is tousled, his expression thoughtful rather than embarrassed.
“How’s your head?” you ask, keeping your voice neutral.
“Killing me,” he admits.
You hand him painkillers and a fresh glass of water. He thanks you quietly and swallows them without complaint. The silence between you isn’t awkward exactly, but it’s heavy with everything unsaid.
He sets the glass down and pats the space beside him.
“Sit,” he says gently.
Your stomach flips, but you do.
He turns to face you fully. There’s no teasing smile. No drunken haze. Just steady, unwavering eye contact.
“I remember everything,” he says.
Your breath catches.
“And I meant it.”
The certainty in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.
“I’m not asking you to answer me right now,” he continues carefully. “I just need you to know it wasn’t the alcohol talking. It was me. I’ve loved you quietly for a long time. And I’m done pretending I don’t.”
The room feels smaller somehow.
“Do you regret telling me?” you ask softly.
“No,” he says immediately. “I regret waiting so long.”
The sincerity in his expression makes your chest ache.
Silence settles again, fragile and full.
“You idiot,” you murmur finally.
His brows lift slightly in confusion.
“I like you too.”
The words leave your mouth in a rush, but once they’re out, they feel right. Terrifying, exposing but true.
For the first time since you’ve known him, Jaehyun looks completely stunned.
“You do?”
“Yes,” you whisper. “I was just as scared of ruining us.”
Relief washes over his face so visibly it nearly steals the air from the room. His shoulders drop, tension draining from his body as he lets out a shaky breath.
“Can I?” he asks softly, gesturing faintly between you.
This time, he’s sober. This time, he waits.
You nod.
He leans closer slowly, giving you every opportunity to change your mind. His hand lifts to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently along your skin as if grounding himself. There’s no rush in him now. No recklessness. Just quiet intention.
When his lips meet yours, it’s soft. Warm. Certain.
You kiss him back.
It isn’t desperate or messy. It’s steady and deliberate, built from months—maybe years—of laughter, comfort, and almost-confessions. It feels like crossing a line you’ve both been standing at for far too long.
His other hand finds yours, fingers intertwining naturally, like they’ve done it a thousand times before in every way except this one.
When you finally pull away, your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling in the small space between you. Neither of you moves immediately. There’s no need to.
He smiles then, that familiar teasing spark slowly returning to his eyes.
“So,” he murmurs lightly, “does this mean I still get to call you pretty girl?”
You huff out a quiet laugh, your heart impossibly full.
“Only if you’re sober.”
His grin widens.
“Good,” he whispers. “Because I plan on saying it a lot.”
SYPNOSIS: you run a fan account for another male idol. your boyfriend doesn’t like it but little does he know, you have one just for him.
GENRES/WARNINGS: fluff super mega to the max! established relationship, jaehyun is like super in love with yn it’s crazy, yn is a enhypen fan specifically jake bias (・ω<) yn fc is jiyeon from triples but you can imagine her however you likeee, some jake slander on jaehyuns side but don’t mind it!!!
FEAT. all of bnd, moka from illit, carmen from h2h, haerin from newjeans and leeseo from ive!
enjoy!
NOTE 🗒️: if anyone is on the other side can you hear me am i muted 😅😅 nyc is in shambles with this thunderstorm im irritated i cant load ANYTHING 😡🤬🤬
check out my other works here ➜ livias masterlist!
your boyfriend, taesan, confesses that he loves you for the first time. except, he doesn’t say i love you, he calls you his first love instead.
pairing: han taesan x gn!reader ; contents: established relationship, fluff, saying i love you for the first time, kissing, woonhak mention cause i can’t shut up abt him, just cuteness !! wc: ~0.9k
— now playing i hope my cat loves me
you have been dating taesan for around two months now. everything has come naturally for both of you since you were close friends even before your relationship turned into anything romantic.
comfort came easily. close physical proximity came easily. even staying up until 2 am delving into the political and economic state of the world with your legs tangled together on your couch came easily! there was only one thing that has not settled easily for the two of you yet; words of affection.
taesan will compliment you and vice-versa, but the idea of the words i love you coming out of your mouth feels too foreign. just the thought alone makes you internally cringe.
the odd part is, you do love taesan. that’s something you have never had a thought of doubt about. it’s just that you believe that this enormous sense of love you feel for him has a time and place. you don’t live every minute of your life with the itching urge to express this love in words when you can with your actions. and… the time and place has never come.
when exactly… will it come?
read more under the cut! (^_^*)
well! anyways, you and taesan are on your sofa in your pajamas, each on opposite sides with mugs full of hot tea—your respective favorite flavors—in your hands. your legs are tangle over each other’s in a complex criss-cross pattern.
“can you believe it?” taesan starts.
what a thought provoking question, you think. taesan always starts off a conversation with a question containing absolutely zero context.
you tilt your head a bit. “believe what?”
he emphasizes each word, “woonhak is onto his next talking stage already. it’s been, what, 4 days?” his eyebrows furrow as they always do when he’s talking about something with passion.
“i could believe it,” you respond with a hint of sarcasm.
you take a sip from your warm mug and watch as taesan shuffles in his seat. you like to test him, act like a know-it-all.
“okay, i could believe it too,” taesan surrenders, “but, still!”
you hide back your smile, finding how defeated he looks to be adorable. that is why you test him.
you reason, “we know that woonhak is just doing this out of hurt, though. this is his way of coping with… you know.”
taesan hums, calming down now. “mm, for sure. he’s still not over his first love. that got him good.”
you nod.
a short moment of comfortable silence passes. taesan takes a small sip of his tea before he subtly—or what he might think is subtle—clears his throat and looks at you with a glint of hesitancy.
that’s strange.
“you know…” his voice comes out quieter this time; a little strained like his throat is struggling to let the words flow out.
you wait for him to continue.
taesan’s eyes move to his lap. “i think you’re my first.”
there it is. taesan’s heart was too full that his throat could not possibly hold back such a strong confession.
“your first… what?” you blink.
he stares back at you, eyes full of an emotion you have never seen in your boyfriend before; by uncovering this blanket of indescribable emotion, one would find fear.
and, for the first time in you and taesan’s relationship, you sense a crack in the comfort. a change that cannot be determined to be good or bad at first glance. to define it, you’ll just have to wait and see.
“my first love.”
your heart begins to stutter. your mind can’t form a coherent thought anymore.
you let out a breath, “oh.”
then, as a common coping mechanism of yours, you wrack your brain to something that taesan had told you back when you were just friends.
you use this aged piece of information as an attempt to change the tone of the current topic. you ask, “taesan, i thought you didn’t believe in first loves?”
yet, taesan is determined to keep this conversation on track.
“i used to not believe in first loves. i do now.”
your mouth gapes open a little.
“because of me?” you test the waters back.
he’s still staring at you. “because of you, yeah.”
ah, fuck it. this feels about right for time and place.
“taesan,” you try to steady your voice, but your words still come out shaky, “you love me?”
“yes, yn. i love you.”
you shuffle in your seat to straighten yourself up.
“taesan, i love you too.”
it feels as if a truth that you’ve been holding onto has finally come to light. all of a sudden, you want to say the phrase that you once did not wish to be spoken of over and over again.
taesan fixes his posture as well, leaning forward so your faces are directly in front of each other. he smiles without his teeth, pupils dipping their focus from your eyes to your lips.
he slowly closes the short distance between your lips as his hand, warm from the mug, moves up to caress your cheek.
taesan smiles softly into the kiss, and the corners of your mouth can’t help but lift with his.
you pull apart just enough to make the tips of your noses touch. you admire his beauty; the emotion in his eyes is love. it always has been.
you desire to stare at taesan’s pretty face for longer, but he engulfs you tightly in his arms and the two of you fall onto the armrest of the couch. he stuffs his face into your neck and rapidly places more kisses there. that’s fine too. taesan’s pretty face can be there too, you suppose.
he mumbles “iloveyou” again, and again, and again.
you chuckle, “taesan! i get it, stop! our tea is gonna spill!”
the words i love you will never be foreign to you ever again.
please DO NOT translate, copy, or repost as yours. feeding my works into ai will NOT be condoned.
maia’s note: BNDBLR IM BACK . all roads lead back to boynextdoor it seems… this is also very rusty i just wanted to write for my own enjoyment and i really liked this idea and taesan so. i was aiming for this work to be more dialogue heavy, and i think it is, but it’s still quite description focused haha…. i’m thinking abt making a version of this for a cortis member but i’m not sure. reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!! 🤍
✶.˚˖࿔ ࣪ who needs stars? we've got a roof - taesan.
✶ part of the memories to a song event!
⋆｡°✩ pairing idol!taesan x gn!reader wc 0.848k tw none genre fluff!!, comfort, angst if u squint, domestic, they're in love your honor, reader has hair long enough to tuck back
⋆˚꩜｡author's note requested, aylin is back on her taesan darling agenda. ending this fic was so hard (its kind of bad just dont pay attention) BUT I LOVE THEM SO MUCH IN THIS FIC!!!! anyway enjoy and happy reading <3
˚₊‧꒰ა prompt "one is on the other's lap, holding their face between their hands, kissing them and instantly forgetting everything else in the room with them".
⋆˙⟡ synopsis taesan comes home to you, the one who hung the stars in the sky.
♬⋆.˚ listen to nothing (bruno major).
⋆⭒˚.⋆ reblogs + feedback very much appreciated! ^^
when taesan steps through the doorway, he’s ready to collapse into your arms. in truth, he’s been looking forward to coming home for hours on end. he’d gone into the studio every day this week with high hopes - but somehow, it just wasn’t working. he couldn’t figure out what was wrong.
he’s supposed to be good at songwriting. he’s supposed to be making more, creating more, doing more.
so why can’t he think of anything but curling up with you right now?
sighing, taesan shakes off his shoes and lets his bag slide down to lay in a heap on the floor. he shrugs off his jacket and moves to hang it in the closet when he realizes the living room is oddly… quiet.
even though it’s dark outside, the curtains on the windows are wide open. there’s remnants of an evening snack all over the kitchen countertops, a stray plate and crumbs on the dining table. the television has been left paused on some youtube video, the bright screen casting the room in a pale glow. he glances down - your shoes are lined up neatly next to his own feet. so you must be home.
“y/n?” he calls out, blinking in confusion when he hears no reply.
well. that’s strange.
he says your name again, stepping further into your shared home with slow, careful steps. when you reply, your bright voice carrying mutely from the bedroom, something in his chest loosens.
taesan’s feet pad softly across the floor as he makes his way over to where you are - yet when he turns into the bedroom’s doorway, the sight of you makes him pause. there you are, perched precariously on the edge of your bed, pressing your fingers to the ceiling. you must hear him leaning against the doorframe, because you turn to him with a smile. “you’re finally home!”
he nods, smiling back. “hi, darling.”
“hi,” you say, but your gaze is intense as you scan his face. he looks away after a moment, eyes settling on a few sheets scattered on your bedside table underneath soft lamplight.
“what have you been up to?”
you sit down on the bed, shaking your head. “nothing much. sit down,” you say, patting the space next to you. taesan obliges, letting out a small sigh when he settles on the soft mattress. you watch him, tilting your head slightly. “how was work?”
he’s silent for a moment. “tiring,” he says. “i… i wanted to work on songs today. but i just couldn’t.”
you hum softly, and taesan feels yet another knot unravel, deep in his chest where his soul must be. he hadn’t quite realized how tired he was until you’d asked. he reaches out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, smiling when you look up at him with wide eyes.
“i just wanted to see you,” he says quietly, his fingers trailing down your arm before finding your hand. he intertwines his fingers with yours, and he watches as your features soften, your lips curving up and rounding your cheeks.
“i’m here,” you murmur as taesan pulls you towards him. his palm settles on your waist as both of your hands come up to cup his face. then he’s kissing you, or you’re kissing him. who knows? not him. all he knows is that you’re warm, you’re solid underneath his fingertips, you’re real and here and he gets to feel the softness of your lips against his. you pull away after a moment, your fingers sliding into his hair as you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. but taesan chases after your lips, kissing you again, smiling against your skin when you giggle softly.
when he finally pulls away from you, it’s not to anywhere far. he lets go of your hand to place his palm on your back, pulling you down with him as he leans back. you let out a small yelp as you fall onto the mattress beside him, and taesan laughs, for the first time in what feels like a while.
that’s when he notices it.
a soft, green glow from the ceiling. glow-in-the-dark stars. he looks at you with a small smile. “when did you do that?”
you grin. “just today. i was putting up the last of them when you came in. do you like them?”
taesan looks up at the ceiling again. the stars are scattered in constellations across their new sky, and he thinks he can recognize a few. he turns back to you, to your bright eyes and wide smile. to you, who has quite literally hung the stars in the sky.
his sky.
“i love them,” he whispers, brushing your hair out of your face to see the reflection of the stars in your eyes. “thank you, darling.”
as you snuggle closer to him, taesan thinks he can barely remember why he was so tired. here, with you, under a ceiling full of stars, he’s perfectly content. he’s perfectly content to just lie here and do nothing with you.
⋮ ⌗ ┆synopsis: for years, Myung Jaehyun lived for the thrill of street racing. But as he starts spending more time with you than chasing the next finish line, he begins to wonder if the life he's always loved is one he's finally ready to leave behind.
⋮ ⌗ ┆warnings: fluff, established relationship, illegal street racing, jealousy, intended lowercase, skinship
⋮ ⌗ ┆word count: 2k (333avg per headcannon)
⋮ ⌗ ┆authors note: we are interupting the angst broadcast with a jaehyun fluff headcannon!! this was written for @myungmyng and special thank you to @yumangel for proofreading this for me!! hope you enjoy this, giving out all the love <33
ᛝ now playing: nice to each other by olivia dean
back to masterlist | reblogs and comments highly valued!! (please!!)
── racer bf! Jaehyun : keeps random trinkets of yours in his car and calls them his lucky charms. ˎˊ˗
it starts with something small like a hair tie you forgot to take on his gear stick, a receipt from a convenience store date tucked into the sun visor, a keychain you won from an arcade hanging from his rearview mirror. when you ask him why he never throws them away, he just shrugs, “they’re lucky.” “babe, that’s literally a used movie ticket–” “and? i won my race the next day.” and before long, his car was full of little pieces of you. a polaroid wedged into the corner of his dashboard, a bracelet you thought you’d lost looped around his wrist whenever he races, a sticky note with your handwriting folded inside his glove compartment.
more below the cut!!:
the other racers make fun of him for it, “those aren’t lucky charms,” they sneered. “they are if it’s hers.” he says it so seriously that nobody knows whether to laugh or be concerned. and maybe it is stupid, but before every race, he taps one of those trinkets for good luck. not because he thinks that they’ll magically help him win but because they remind him that there’s someone waiting for him at the finish line. someone he would love to go home to. so when people ask what his most prized possession is, they would most likely expect him to point at the car he’s spent years with and a lot of money on but instead, he reaches for the polaroid of you at a vinyl store on his dashboard and smiles, “this.’
── racer bf! Jaehyun : gets jealous when other drivers flirt with you. ˎˊ˗
the racing scene (especially an illegal one) is small enough that everyone knows everyone, which means everyone knows you’re his. unfortunately, that doesn’t stop people from trying.
it usually starts at meetups, some driver you’ve never met before strikes up a conversation while jaehyun was busy cleaning his car and you’re too polite to walk away. from across the lot, jaehyun notices immediately. he pretends he doesn’t though. for aboutt 15 seconds. then suddenly he’s appearing beside you, arm slung casually around your shoulders as if he’d been there the whole time.
“hey.” he says. the other driver glances between the two of you, “oh, you two are together?” “mhm.” the smile on jaehyun’s face is friendly enough. but the grip around your shoulder says otherwise. he doesn’t get angry, doesn’t start fights, and doesn’t act possessive. he just becomes unbearably clingy. he’s following you around, resting his chin on your head, stealing your attention every five seconds. “babe.” “yea?” “you’re jealous.” “am not,” he says while literally holding your hand.
the worst part is when another racer openly flirts with you right before one of his races. because he’s now climbing into the driver’s seat annoyed. and everyone knows what that means. later that night, after crossing the finish line first, he walks straight past the crowds, straight past the celebrations, straight to you. “you won.” “i know.” “aren’t you happy?” you asked. he shrugs before reaching over and lacing his fingers through yours so everyone watching gets the message, loud and clear. “happier now.” with that huge ass grin on his face.
── racer bf! Jaehyun : swears he’ll retire after every race. ˎˊ˗
it becomes a running joke between the two of you. after a race, still buzzing with adrenaline and victory, he’ll throw an arm around your shoulders and announce dramatically, “that’s it, i’m done.” you don’t even bat an eye at his antics, “mhm..” “seriously.” “okay..” “i’m retiring.” “you said that last week..” “this time i mean it!” he never means it. because three days later, you’ll find him under the hood of his car at two in the morning, tweaking something that absolutely did not need tweaking. “i thought you retired?” “i did..” “then why are you working on the car?” “..maintenance..” “for?” you asked with a raised eyebrow. “..future maintenance..”
eventually, the other racers start placing bets on how long his ‘retirement’ will last. the record is three days. what nobody realises is that every time he says it, a part of him genuinely means it. especially after a close call. especially when he catches the look on your face as he steps out of the car safely. the relief, the fear, the way your shoulders finally relax. and those are the moments when he thinks maybe he should quit. maybe he’s had enough. maybe winning doesn’t feel as good as knowing you’ll never have to worry about him again. but then another race comes around. another challenge. another chance to chase the adrenaline he’s spent ages chasing. and he can’t quite let go. so he keeps saying it.
“one more race and i’m done.” until one night, a few days later, he comes home after a race and he finds you asleep on the couch waiting for him, phone still in your hand and the living room lights still on. and for the first time, he doesn’t know what to do.
── racer bf! Jaehyun : gets into arguments with you whenever you call his races dangerous because deep down, he knows you’re right. ˎˊ˗
the thing is, he knows they are. that’s why he gets so defensive. it usually starts the same way. you hear about a crash, a near miss, a race that got shut down halfway through. and when he casually mentions it later, you stare at him in disbelief. “you could have gotten hurt..” “but i didn’t.” he shrugs. “that’s not the point jaehyun.” “then what is it?” and suddenly you’re arguing. his voice gets sharper, your frustration grows. neither of you are really listening anymore. because while you’re trying to explain why you’re scared, he’s trying not to think about the fact that you’re right. he hates it. hates how your words linger in his head long after the fight ends. hates how he can’t confidently tell you it’ll never happen again. because he can’t.
one night, the argument gets worse than usual. he accuses you for not trusting him and before he can stop himself, he says, “then maybe you shouldn’t wait for me anymore.” the second the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. the silence that follows is deafening. you look at him like he’s just slapped you. and for the first time, jaehyun realizes what these arguments have never really been about. it’s not that you’re terrified of getting a phone call in the middle of the night. or terrified of hearing sirens and wondering if it’s him.
later, when he finds you sitting alone after the fight, he doesn’t try to defend himself. doesn’t make excuses. doesn’t tell you that you’re overreacting. he just sits beside you quietly. for a moment, neither of you speak. then he reaches for your hand, “i know it’s dangerous.” his voice barely above a whisper. and somehow, hearing him admit it hurts more than all the arguments combined. because for once, there isn’t denial. no stubbornness. just the truth. and the truth is that every race scares you. but losing you scares him even more.
── racer bf! Jaehyun : starts questioning whether racing is worth it. ˎˊ˗
for years, racing was simple. he loved the speed. the adrenaline. the feeling of being completely free for a few fleeting seconds. every risk felt worth taking. until you came around. because suddenly there was someone waiting for him after every race. someone who always answered his late night calls. someone who would sit in the passenger seat and absentmindedly fiddle with his fingers at red lights. someone who started feeling less like part of his life and more like his future. and that’s what makes it difficult. the first time the thought crosses his mind isn’t after a crash. it isn’t after a dangerous race. it is after something painfully ordinary. you fall asleep in his car. head resting against the window. your hand loosely intertwined with his.
and as he glances over at you while stopped at a red light, he catches himself imagining this years from now. a future. a life. something permanent. the thought shakes him. because for the first time, he has something he genuinely does not want to lose. after that, little things start getting to him. the way you always text him to let you know when he’s safe. the way you always text him to let you know when he’s safe. the way your shoulders visibly relax whenever he steps out of his car unharmed. the way you never outright ask him to quit, even though he knows parts of you wants to.
one night, after a particularly rough race, he’s sitting alone in his car long after everyone else has left. the engine is off. the lots are empty. and for the first time, winning doesn’t feel as good as it used to. instead, all he can think about it you. about how quickly everything could change and he hates that thought. he hates how much power it has over him but he hates the possibility of leaving you behind even more. so when you find him later that night unusually quiet, you ask what’s wrong.
he stares ahead for a moment before asking, “have you ever thought about what happens after?” “after what?” “after all of this.” it’s the first time he’s ever sounded uncertain and tired. when you don’t answer immediately, he laughs softly. not because anything is funny. but because he finally understands. racing used to be the thing he couldn’t live without. now he’s not so sure. because somewhere along the way, you became the thing he couldn’t imagine living without instead.
── racer bf! Jaehyun : finds himself spending more time fixing cars than racing them. ˎˊ˗
nobody notices it at first. not even him. because he still shows up to every meetup. still hangs around the garages until ridiculous hours of the night. still has grease stains on his hands and engine parts scattered across his workspace. the only difference is that he’s spending less time behind the wheel. and more time underneath the car. it starts with him helping a friend, then tuning someone’s engine before a race. then rebuilding an old project car just because he was bored. before he knows it, entire weekends pass without him racing at all.
instead he’s teaching younger drivers how to replace parts properly. arguing with people over modifications. getting way too excited over tools. you make fun of him constantly. “you’re getting old.” “yah! i’m still in my early twenties!” “you sound like a dad.” “you’re crazy!” he says while giving a full fifteen minute lecture about proper engine maintenance. the truth is, he doesn’t mind. because somewhere along the way, racing stopped being his entire world.
he still loves cars, the sound of an engine roaring to life and the people he meets. but he’s starting to realize that maybe he was never in love with racing itself. maybe he was in love with what it gave him. a place to belong, a purpose, something to chase. but now? he has other things. you. late night dinners, lazy afternoons, future plans that stretch further than the next race weekend.
one evening, you’re sitting in the garage while he works on a friend's car. music hums softly through his speaker and the air smells faintly of gasoline and motor oil. you watch him wipe his oily hands on a rag after tightening a bolt. “you haven't raced in a while.” he glances over at you and smiles, “guess i’ve been busy.” but he doesn’t tell you he had made up his mind weeks ago, that he’s found something he enjoys more than crossing the finish line. it was never a car or the adrenaline. it was coming home to you.
divider by @legality-graphics | network @berrybittynetwork
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Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, survival themes, mentions of zombies and danger, minor injuries, mutual pining, confession, kissing, fluff, established friendship.
Summary:The world ended months ago. While searching an abandoned apartment complex for supplies, Leehan decides there’s no point hiding his feelings anymore. After all, what’s the worst thing that could happen?
The building appeared at the end of the street just as the sun was beginning to set.
After walking for hours, any place with walls and a door that could be closed felt like a luxury.
“We could stay here tonight,” Sungho said as he looked up at the apartment complex.
Nobody complained.
Everyone was tired.
Their backpacks felt heavier than usual after spending the entire day walking, scavenging for supplies, and avoiding crowded streets.
Jaehyun glanced up at the upper floors.
“Looks quiet.”
“Too quiet,” Taesan muttered.
Still, they went inside.
Like always, they moved carefully.
Quietly.
Without letting their guard down.
The first few floors seemed empty.
Some apartment doors were already open.
Furniture had been overturned, clothes were scattered across the floor, and belongings had been abandoned as if their owners had run out one day and never come back.
After checking several hallways and confirming there were no immediate signs of danger, the group finally relaxed a little.
“We can stay here,” Sungho decided.
Jaehyun dropped his backpack against a wall.
“There’s still some daylight left. We should search for supplies before it gets dark.”
Everyone agreed.
It was a routine they knew all too well.
Find food. Find water. Find batteries.
Find anything that could help them survive one more day.
“We should split up,” Riwoo suggested.
“But don’t close any doors,” Woonhak added. “If a zombie shows up, I want an easy escape route.”
“For once, I agree with him,” Taesan said.
After deciding on groups, Sungho and Jaehyun headed one way.
Riwoo, Taesan, and Woonhak took another hallway.
And before you could say anything, Leehan had already stepped beside you.
“Let’s go.”
“Was that an invitation or an order?”
“Both.”
You lightly smacked his arm.
Leehan smiled.
Then the two of you headed upstairs.
+++
The third floor looked untouched.
Or at least as untouched as anything could look in the middle of the apocalypse.
The first apartment had several cans of food hidden in a cabinet.
The second was almost completely empty.
The third looked like it belonged to someone whose entire diet consisted of instant ramen.
“I think this person would've died from something else before the zombies got them,” you muttered.
Leehan laughed.
“Take the ramen anyway.”
“I already am.”
They also found bottles of water.
Batteries.
Flashlights.
And a half-full first aid kit.
By the time they finished searching, both backpacks were noticeably heavier.
That was when you found an open bedroom.
The closet was still full of clothes.
You looked down at your torn sleeves.
Then at the clean clothes.
The decision was easy.
“I’m going to change.”
“Okay.”
Leehan continued searching through a few drawers.
“I’ll check the kitchen again.”
“Don’t go far.”
“I won’t.”
+++
For the first time in weeks, you were wearing clean clothes.
They weren’t exactly your style.
But they were clean.
And that was enough.
When you stepped out of the bedroom, the apartment was quiet.
“Leehan?”
No answer.
You frowned.
The front door was still open.
You walked toward it.
“Leehan?”
Just as you were about to step into the hallway, someone grabbed your wrist.
The scare was so bad you almost swung your bat at their face.
“Are you insane?!”
Leehan took a step back.
“You almost killed me.”
“Because you appeared out of nowhere!”
“I called your name twice.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well... once.”
Before you could answer, you heard something.
A sound.
Slow.
Dragging itself down the hallway.
Leehan’s smile disappeared immediately.
You heard it too.
Both of you turned toward the doorway.
Without thinking, you carefully peeked outside.
That was enough.
A zombie was shambling down the corridor.
It had probably come from the first apartment you'd searched.
And it was much closer than you liked.
You immediately stepped back.
“Zombie.”
Leehan tried to look.
“Where?”
“Right there!”
You shoved him back inside.
Both of you lost your balance.
And a second later, you were on the floor.
Leehan wrapped his arms around you before you could slam into a nearby table.
The fall wasn’t bad.
But when you opened your eyes, you realized you were lying right on top of him.
Very much on top of him.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
You could hear his breathing.
His heartbeat.
And the way his hands were still holding onto you.
“Hi,” Leehan whispered.
“ I didn't mean to fall on top of you.” You said
“There’s a zombie outside.”
“I know.” You murmured
“Just making sure.”
Despite everything, a laugh almost escaped you.
You had to bite your lip to keep quiet.
Then a growl sounded right outside the door.
Both of you froze.
Leehan shifted slightly and pulled you against his chest so neither of you would accidentally make a sound.
The zombie continued wandering through the hallway.
Dragging its feet.
Growling.
Searching.
Several minutes passed.
Then more and more.
Until your legs started going numb.
“Did it leave yet?” you whispered.
“I don’t think so.”
You waited.
You couldn’t hear anything.
Absolutely nothing.
“Leehan.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then it left.”
“Probably.”
“Then let go of me.”
Leehan stayed silent.
“Leehan.”
“I’m thinking.”
You had to cover your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.
“You’re impossible.”
“I’m evaluating the situation.”
“Liar.”
“A little.”
This time he finally let go.
He looked just as embarrassed as you felt.
And for the first time since the apocalypse began, he seemed unable to look you in the eye.
Which was strange.
Very strange.
You stood up first.
Then offered him your hand.
“Come on.”
Leehan took it.
But he didn’t stand.
He just kept holding it.
Looking down at the floor.
“Leehan?”
Nothing.
“Did you hit your head?”
He shook his head.
“Then what is it?”
Leehan took a deep breath.
Once.
Twice.
And when he finally looked up, he seemed more nervous than he ever did fighting zombies.
“I know this is probably the worst possible time to say this.”
You blinked.
“Say what?”
He let out a nervous laugh.
“That I like you.”
Your heart stopped or at least it felt like it did.
Leehan looked down again.
“A lot.”
The apartment went completely silent.
“And I know the world is ending.”
“Leehan...”
“Let me finish before I lose my nerve.”
You bit your lip.
“Okay.”
“I’ve liked you for a long time.”
He scratched the back of his neck.
Clearly embarrassed.
“And I figured if zombies haven’t killed me yet, I probably shouldn’t keep hiding it.”
That earned a small smile from you.
“How romantic.”
“I know.”
“Terrible.”
“I know that too.”
Finally, he looked up.
And there it was.
That expression.
The one he always had when he was nervous.
Like he expected you to laugh at him.
Or reject him. Or both.
And somehow that made him even more endearing.
The apocalypse was still happening outside.
Tomorrow you'd probably be running for your lives again.
Searching for food.
Trying to survive.
But for a moment, everything felt strangely normal.
You stepped closer.
And kissed him.
Just once.
Soft.
Enough to leave Leehan completely frozen.
“Was that a yes?”
“Do you need another one to be sure?”
“Maybe.”
“Leehan.”
“I’m verifying.”
You laughed.
And so did he.
Until someone cleared their throat from the doorway.
Both of you turned at the same time.
Jaehyun was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
Leehan closed his eyes.
“No, you’re not.”
“But somebody had to.”
“Jaehyun.”
“I’ve been looking for you two for ten minutes.”
“Jaehyun.”
“And besides, we all already knew.”
You froze.
“What?”
“Everyone.”
Jaehyun pointed upward.
“Literally everyone.”
Leehan looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
“Come on, let’s go.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Jaehyun grinned.
“Congratulations on finally confessing, by the way.”
And then he walked away before Leehan could throw something at him.
You laughed.
Leehan dropped his forehead onto your shoulder.
“I want to become a zombie.”
“Too late.”
“Why?”
You took his hand.
And started walking toward the door.
“Because you’re my boyfriend now.”
It took Leehan a full two seconds to process that.
And then he followed you with a smile that never left his face for the rest of the walk back.
genre: fluff!!!, established relationship, soft romance
wc: 0.7k
warnings: none
a/n: I haven't written anything in the past few days because I've been stuck in the trenches studying for my last paper 😭 So here's something that's been collecting dust in my drafts for a while.
It started as a joke.
Well—maybe not entirely a joke, because once you got your hands on your boyfriend and your makeup bag at the same time, things were bound to escalate.
Leehan had barely sat down at your vanity before you pushed him further into the chair with both hands on his shoulders, announcing very seriously, “Today, you are my victim.”
He blinked up at you lazily, already smiling. “That doesn’t sound very comforting.”
“Shh. Beauty is pain.”
“You say that whilst holding blush.”
“Exactly.”
And somehow, despite fully knowing you were about to mess with him, he still let's you.
He always let's you.
You stood between his legs while he looked up at you with that patient little smile of his, hands naturally finding your waist as if they belonged there.
At first you pretended to take things seriously, lightly dusting blush across his cheeks, but the second you realized how cute he looked with pink cheeks, all self-control disappeared.
“Wait,” you whispered dramatically, leaning closer. “Oh my god.”
“What?”
“You’re adorable.”
“That’s concerning.”
“No, you don’t understand.”
You kept adding more blush, ignoring his increasingly suspicious expression until his cheeks looked permanently flustered. He laughed every time you squinted at him like a perfectionist artist, trying to “blend” makeup you had absolutely no intention of blending properly.
Then came the stickers.
Leehan should’ve known the moment you disappeared into your drawer that things were about to get worse.
When you came back holding sheets of tiny pastel stickers, his eyes widened slightly.
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
You started covering his face with them immediately — tiny stars near his cheeks, little hearts under the corner of his lips, sparkly flowers under his eyes. The entire time he just sat there laughing softly while your tongue poked out in concentration.
“You’re treating my face like a notebook.”
“Mhm.”
“I can literally feel the glue.”
“Mhm.”
“You’ve gone mad with power.”
You ignored him completely, pressing one final heart sticker onto the tip of his nose before taking a step back to admire your work.
And honestly?
You almost melted on the spot.
The blush made his cheeks look all warm and squishy, the stickers somehow making him look even softer than he already did. Combined with the way his hair kept falling into his eyes, he looked so unfairly pretty that your chest physically hurt a little.
“Wait,” you breathed.
Leehan laughed nervously. “Why do you sound emotional?”
Instead of answering, you leaned sideways to grab one of your cute hair clips off the vanity. He watched curiously while you carefully clipped one side of his hair back, fully exposing his face to you.
Big mistake.
Because now he looked devastating.
Pretty wasn’t even enough of a word anymore.
His cheeks were pink, lips curved into the softest smile, tiny glittery stickers decorating his skin while he sat there holding your waist.
You stared at him for a long moment before the words escaped you without warning.
“I’m so gonna wife you up.”
Leehan immediately burst into laughter.
Like full-body laughter.
His head dropped forward, his grip on your waist tightened, and you could feel him shaking against you whilst you frowned dramatically.
“Why are you laughing? I’m serious.”
He looked back up at you, eyes crinkled into crescents. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works, my love.”
You grabbed his cheeks instantly.
“Shh. Don’t ruin this for me.”
“I’m just saying—”
“In my world,” you interrupted firmly, holding a finger against his lips, “it absolutely works like that.”
His smile softened immediately.
“And right now,” you continued, squishing his cheeks together slightly, “you look like you’d be a very pretty wife.”
The blush on his cheeks somehow looked even darker after that.
“You’re unbelievable,” he mumbled, trying to hide his face by leaning into your stomach.
You laughed victoriously, threading your fingers through his hair. “But am I wrong?”
Leehan stayed quiet for a second before mumbling into your shirt, “You used too much blush for me to answer objectively.”
“That’s not a no.”
He looked up at you again, stickers still covering half his face, eyes warm and impossibly fond.
“You know,” he said softly, thumb rubbing against your waist, “this is probably the weirdest way someone’s ever confessed they want to marry me.”
You gasped. “Probably?”
“Mhm. There’s still time for someone to top it.”
You narrowed your eyes before leaning down and kissing the sticker on his nose.
“Not happening,” you whispered. “You’re stuck with me forever.”
Leehan smiled so softly it nearly killed you on the spot.
his fingers still on his keyboard as he fully turns his attention to watching you, squeezed up on one side of the couch as you lean forward, grasping at the strands of hair, your nose scrunched up in concentration as you try to feel your way around the hairstyle.
leehan has to stifle a laugh as you sigh in disappointment, the braid in your hand all wonky and weirdly shaped despite your best efforts.
"come here, cutie," he eventually says, watching your braid disintegrate back into the rest of your hair. he reaches across the couch, his arms wrapping around your waist. you let out a shriek as he drags you backwards into his side.
"hannie!" you laugh as leehan adjusts you in his lap, you perched on his knee as he gently separates your hair into manageable parts.
"are you..?" you touch your hair gingerly as you fidget in his lap, his hands methodically combing through your hair.
leehan hummed, "you kept struggling."
"you saw?" you squirm, "i thought you were working!"
"you kept distracting me!" leehan retorts, pout evident in his voice.
"okay, okay - i'm sorry!" you wave your hands in apology before simmering down.
leehan hums in satisfaction, his fingers carding through your hair and working the strands into each other.
"stay still," he whispers, concentrated, his breath tickling against your neck, "i've got you."
⋮ ⌗ ┆subjects: spiderman bf! Kim Leehan x gf! reader
⋮ ⌗ ┆incident overview: You and Kim Leehan have known each other since high school, growing from close lovers into strangers divided by silence, secrets, and everything neither of you could say out loud. As distance slowly replaces what once felt certain, misunderstandings pile up and what you had begins to unravel beyond repair. And only when it’s too late does Leehan realise you were never something he was meant to lose.
⋮ ⌗ ┆agents note: heyyoo!! my first ever au fic!! I never wrote action scenes before so I apologize if it's not that good TT. although I had such a hard time writing this, I think it turned out really well in the end, p.s. see the linking of the ending to the start hehe!! if you guys want to see a part 2 continuation of this fic, do comment!! mwahmwah
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|• now playing: is that true? by boynextdoor
back to masterlist | as always ; reblogs and comments highly valued!! (please!!)
Flowers never realise that they’re dying when the season first begins to change.
The warning signs are always small, a colder breeze slips through an open window, sunlight arrives a little later each morning and petals lose colours one by one. Yet, the flowers continue blooming as if summer lasts forever. By the time they notice the chill in their roots, it’s already too late. Perhaps that is why people like flowers.
No one notices when a relationship begins to ‘wilt’. Not at first. The laughter still sounds the same, hands still fit perfectly together and ‘i love you’ still rolls of the tongue with practiced ease. But between yesterday and tomorrow, somewhere, something changed. And suddenly, the person who once felt like home becomes someone standing on the other side of an impossible distance. The cruelest part is that change rarely arrives all at once. It comes quietly.
Then one day you’ll look back at the garden you spent years tending, and realise
half the flowers have already fallen.
more below the cut;
You met leehan long before he got his spidey powers. Back then, he was just kim leehan, an awkward freshman who seemed to always have his nose buried in a book or newspaper. He was neither popular nor athletic and certainly not the kind of guy people fought to sit beside at lunch. Everyone overlooked him entirely. Except the bullies.
One afternoon, you watched a group of boys bump into him in the hallway. Newspapers slipping from his arm and scattering across the floor. One of them laughed, mocking his ‘collection’. Another crouched down beside him as if to help and for a moment, leehan looked hopeful. Then the boy ripped a page straight out of one of his notebooks. The group cackled with laughter. You expected leehan to yell, to get angry. Instead, he just smiled. A small smile. The bullies eventually got bored and left. The second they disappeared around the corner, you went up to him, knelt down and helped him gather some scattered papers.
“How are you not angry?..” you ask. That earned a laugh from him, “trust me, i am.” for the first time, you noticed it. The frustration hidden beneath his smile. The way his fingers crumpled the edge of the newspaper. The exhaustion in his eyes. “I just don’t think it’d change anything,” he admitted softly. You looked at him for a moment before handing back the last page, “well for what it’s worth.. I think they’re idiots.”
Leehan blinked. Then a genuine smile appeared on his face, “thanks.”
From that moment on, you started spending more time together. One conversation became two. Two became dozens. You walked home together after school, studied together in libraries, texted each other until neither of you could keep your eyes open. And along the way, somewhere, you stopped being just the girl who helped him pick up papers in the hallway. You became his favourite person. And before either of you realized it, you were no longer just schoolmates. You were his girlfriend. And he was your boyfriend.
By sophomore year, you began noticing changes in leehan. At first they were small. The shy boy who used to stumble over his words now had a comeback ready for almost anything you said. He teased you more often, flashed smug little smirks whenever he won an argument. And somehow carried himself with a confidence you had never seen before.
“You’re staring.” you blinked, “what?” “you’re staring,” leehan repeated, fighting back a smug grin. “I am not.” “you literally are.” you rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder. “You’re just so annoying.” “yet you’re still dating me,” the smug look on his face only widened.
You hated how much you liked this version of him. He seemed happier, lighter. For the first time since you’d met him, it felt like he was finally becoming comfortable in his own skin. But only around you. At school, nothing seemed to change. Leehan was still the same awkward nerd everyone loved picking on. You would still find him kneeling on the floor of crowded hallways collecting newspapers. Bullies would shove him between classes, laugh when he stumbled, and make jokes at his expense whenever teachers weren’t around. The sight always made your stomach twist. You had seen him become more confident, more capable, more willing to stand up for himself. So why? Why did he still let this happen?
One night, while the two of you were walking home, you finally asked, “why don’t you ever do anything?” leehan glanced at you. “What do you mean?” “the bullies.” his expression immediately shifted. You noticed it every time the topic came up, a brief flicker of discomfort.
“They don’t bother me that much.” “that’s a lie.” leehan laughed weakly, “you always know when i’m lying..” “that’s because you’re terrible at it.” for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then he said quietly, “it’s easier this way.” you didn’t understand what he mean then. You simply took his hand and continued walking, unaware that leehan was carrying a secret far bigger than either of you could imagine.
And as time passed, Leehan began disappearing for hours, then days, with horrible excuses that never quite made sense. ‘Sorry something came up.’ ‘I forgot.’ ‘Let’s do it another day.’. At first, you believed him. That was until you started counting how many dates he arrived late to, how many plans he cancelled at the last minute, how many messages were left unanswered for hours.
The seasons continued changing around you, but so did he. One afternoon, when he showed up late yet again, you noticed the bruises peeking out from beneath his sleeve. Dark purple marks, far worse than anything the school bullies could have caused. Your stomach twisted, “leehan? What happened?” his hand immediately pulled the sleeve down, “nothing.”
You reached for him, desperate to understand, but he took a step back. And that.. hurt.. Leehan used to tell you everything, every embarrassing thought, every stupid fish fact that crossed his mind. He was the boy who would call you in the middle of the night just to tell you something he forgot to mention earlier.
Now, he looked at you like you were a stranger asking him questions you had no right to ask about. The distance between you grew quietly, like autumn stealing the green from leaves one day at a time, nothing seemed different at first, until the branches were suddenly bare.
And for the first time, you wondered if you were losing him. Or if you had already lost him long ago.
The argument happened on a rainy night. Maybe it was because you were tired. Maybe it was because you had spent months pretending everything was fine. Or maybe it was because you couldn’t take being shut out anymore.
“What happened to you?” you finally asked. Leehan stood silently in your doorway, rainwater dripping from his jacket.
“You keep disappearing.” silence. “You cancel everything.” silence. “You lie to me.” his jaw tightened. “Can you just tell me what’s going on?” you hated how desperate your voice sounded. “Nothing’s going on.” that was the final straw.
“Stop saying that!” you snapped, “do you think i’m stupid?” leehan flinched, for a second, he almost told you. About the mask hidden in his room. About the bruises. About the nights spent bleeding on rooftops while trying to save strangers. But he couldn’t. So he stayed quiet. And his silence felt like an answer. Tears burned in your eyes, “you don’t love me anymore.”
His head immediately shot up, “what?” “you don’t.” “i never said that–” “you don’t have to.” your voice cracked, “you barely talk to me. You don’t tell me anything anymore. Every time i try to help, you push me away.”
Leehan opened his mouth, then closed it again. Because every explanation sounded impossible. Because telling the truth would put you in danger. Because keeping the secret was supposed to protect you. But standing there, watching you cry, it didn’t feel like protection. It felt like losing you. “You don’t understand..” he whispered. “Then make me understand.” he couldn’t. And that hurt more than any punch he had ever taken.
Months of frustration spilled our in the form of words neither of you truly meant. Words sharp enough to leave scars. “Maybe you’ve become selfish.” his face fell. “Maybe you don’t care anymore. “That’s not true.” “prove it.”
He couldn’t. And eventually, there was nothing left to say. The rain continued falling as you stepped away from him. Neither of you tried to stop the other. Maybe because you were both too hurt. Maybe because you both thought there would be another chance later. There wasn’t.
As you closed the door in his face, you believed leehan had changed. That the sweet boy you once knew had become careless. Distant. Selfish. You never saw the way his hands trembled. Or the way he stood there long after you had disappeared from his sight. For the first time since becoming spiderman, fighting villains felt easy.
Losing you was the thing that truly broke him.
But neither of you had truly moved on.
Leehan still found himself watching you afar, lingering on rooftops just long enough to make sure you got home safely before disappearing into the night. And you caught yourself making room for him in your life. At the bakery, you had absentmindedly ordered two of his favourite pastries before remembering there was no one waiting beside you anymore.
Old habits were hard to break. Especially when the person you were trying to forget was never really gone.
One night, on your way home, you took a shortcut through a narrow alleyway. The city was quiet, the only sounds coming from distant traffic and the hum of streetlights overhead.
Then you heard it. A thud. Followed by a pained groan.
Curiosity got the better of you. You carefully peeked around the corner and froze. A figure sat slumped against a brick wall, breathing heavily. Spiderman?! His suit was torn, blood stained the fabric, fresh bruises bloomed across the exposed skin as trembling hands struggled to pull the mask back on. Then, the mask slipped. And suddenly, the world stopped. Leehan.
Your breath caught in your throat. Every late arrival. Every cancelled date. Every unexplained bruise. Ever lie. It all made sense. The person you had spent months resenting had been spending every night throwing himself into danger for people he didn’t even know. While you thought he was abandoning you, he had been carrying a burden far heavier than either of you could bear.
Your chest tightened painfully. Leehan wasn’t selfish. He wasn’t careless. He was exhausted. The guilt made you feel sick. Before he could tilt his head and notice you there, you stumbled backwards and ran. Not because you were scared of him. But because you finally understood. And suddenly, you didn’t know how to face him.
That day, you were walking towards leehan’s apartment with your heart in your throat. For days, you had rehearsed what you wanted to say. An apology? An explanation? A chance to start over.
You finally knew the truth. You finally understood why he had changed, why he had lied, why he had pushed you away. And despite everything that had happened between you, you wanted to hear his side. You wanted to tell him you were willing to try again. But you never made it to his door. Because you weren’t the only person looking for Leehan. For weeks, the green goblin had been studying spiderman’s movements. Watching. Waiting. Searching for a weakness he could exploit.
And then he noticed you. The same face appearing around the apartment complex. The same person lingering near the building more often than coincidence could explain. He didn’t now exactly who you were. A friend? Family? A lover? It didn’t matter. If you were useful to spiderman, then you were useful.
The attack happened so quickly you had barely any time to react. One moment, you were crossing the street and the next, a gloved hand seized you from behind. A scream caught in your throat as the city disappeared beneath your feet.
The green goblin laughed as his glider carried you into the sky, “let’s see if he comes for you.” and just like that, you became bait. You know he will. Because now you know who spiderman is. And you know leehan would never leave anyone behind him
The green goblin carefully orchestrated the entire situation, ensuring that no matter what spiderman chooses, someone will suffer. The green goblin doesn’t want to kill spiderman, he wants to break him. Weeks of watching him from the shadows had taught him something important about the city’s beloved hero, he always tries to save everyone. So the green goblin creates a situation where saving everyone is impossible.
You are taken up high to a clock tower, your wrists bound as the wind howls around you. Far below, the city continues as normal, blissfully unaware of the disaster waiting to unfold. Then, the explosions begun. Across several blocks, chaos erupted simultaneously. A packed commuter bus is left hanging over the edge of a collapsed bridge. Part of a construction site crumbles, trapping workers beneath unstable steel beams. A crowded train station is thrown into panic as debris rains from above.
The green goblin smiles, spiderman will come.
When leehan arrives, he’s already breathing hard. He had been patrolling for hours before receiving reports of attacks. The moment he sees you restrained that high up, something in his stops. For a second, the city disappears. There’s only you. You. alive. Terrified. Close enough that he can see the fear in your eyes. The same eyes that once looked at him with trust. The same eyes that had been filled with disappointment when you walked away from him. The same eyes he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since. His heart lurches. Then another explosion echoes through the city.
“Go on, spiderman.” the green goblin laughs. leehan gaze flickers toward the smoke rising in the distance. The bus. The construction site. The station. Hundred of lives. Then back to you. You watch him freeze, not because he doesn’t know what to do. Because he does. He always does. The hesitation only lasts for a moment then he’s gone. You watch him swing away.
For a brief second, despite knowing why, despite finally understanding everything, your chest aches. The next thirty minutes feels endless. You can only watch from afar as flashes of red and blue move across the skyline. One disaster after another. One rescue after another. And with every passing minute, leehan grows slower.
The green goblin keeps his promise. Every rescue is another trap. Every civilian saved costs spider-man something. A collapsing beam falls on his ribs. An explosion sends him crashing through concrete. By the time the last civilians are evacuated, leehan is exhausted. His suit is torn, his hands are shaking, blood stains the red fabric across his shoulder, every muscle in his body burns. But the moment the final civilian is safe, he doesn't stop the rest. He doesn’t stop the breathe, he comes back for you.
The green goblin sees him approaching and sighs dramatically, “finally.”
The fight begins before leehan even lands. A bomb explodes beside him, throwing him across the rooftop. Concrete cracks beneath the impact. Leehan forces himself up immediately but the green goblin doesn’t give him time.
Another attack. Then another. And another. The green goblin knows it too. Every punch lands harder. Every dodge becomes slower. Eventually, leehan crashes to the ground and doesn’t immediately get back up. For the first time, fear settles in your stomach. Not fear for yourself. Fear for him.
The green goblin steps forward. Slowly, confidently. Like he’s already won. “You see?” he says, grabbing leehan by his hair, “this is what happens when you try to save everyone.”
Leehan doesn’t answer, head hangs low, blood dripping onto the concrete. The green goblin laughs, then his gaze shifts towards you. And something changes. Leehan sees it. The direction of his eyes. The intention, the threat. And suddenly, every ounce of exhaustion disappears beneath pure panic. Because losing the fight is one thing. But losing you is another.
The green goblin moves. So does leehan. What happens next, is desperation. The kind born from months of regrets. Months of wishing he could tell you the truth. Months of watching you from afar because he wanted you to be safe. Months of wanting to apologize but never finding the courage. For the first time in the fight, he stops holding anything back, the battle reaches its breaking point.
And somehow impossibly leehan wins. The green goblin falls and silence follows. The city is safe, you are safe. The fight is over. For a several seconds, leehan doesn’t move, he’s barely standing. But he removes his mask with one tug. Blood runs down his face, his suit is shredded, his hands shake from exhaustion. Then slowly, he turns to you. And despite everything, despite the breakup. Despite believing you hated him.. His first concern is still you.
“Are you okay?” he asks immediately, his voice is strained, panicked. Like nothing else matters. Like he didn’t just fight for his life. And standing there, finally seeing the truth laid bare in front of you, you realize something devastating, leehan never stopped loving you. He just thought protecting you meant letting you hate him.
He stumbles towards you, one hand clutching his side. “Hey.. Hang on,” he calls out, voice rough, “i’m coming.. It’s okay i got you..” the words are almost laughable. Because nothing about tonight is okay. But he says them anyway, because he wants you to believe him, because he needs to believe them himself. The concrete beneath you feet cracks. A deep, unsettling sound. Leehan’s stomach drops, “no–”
The structure gives way, and suddenly you’re falling. For one terrible second, all he sees is your expression. Surprise. Fear. then empty air. The world slows. His body moves before his mind can catch up. A web shoots from his wrist. It catches around your chest. Got you. Relief floods through him. Then he jumps, diving after you without hesitation.
The gears in the clock tower rushes past him as he falls, wind tears through his hair, his injuries scream, he ignores all of it. Because all he can think about is reaching you. As he dives, memories crash through him.
You laughing outside a bakery, holding up a pastry, force feeding him to try it.
You sitting beside him on quiet afternoons, talking about your dream with him being a mustard bottle and you bring a ketchup bottle.
The warmth of your hand finding his automatically.
The way you’d call his name.
The way you’d smile at him.
The way you’d look at him before everything became complicated.
Then came the memories he hates.
The unanswered texts.
The disappointment.
The arguments.
The night you stood in front of him with tears in your eyes.
“You’ve changed.”
The way he couldn’t tell you why.
The way he watched you shut the door in his face.
The way he let you.
Because he thought keeping you in the dark would keep you safe.
The distance between you closes. Closer. Close. Until finally he’s there. His arms wrap around you, another web fires, then another, creating a desperate web-line to stop the fall. The force hits all at once, a violent jolt, a hollow crack sound.
He caught you, he did it. For a brief, shining moment, relief washes over him. You aren’t falling anymore. You’re safe. You’re–
“Hey.” his voice cracks, he pulls back slightly, waiting for a response. Nothing. The smile on his face falters. “Hey.” still nothing. Around him, the city continues moving, he can hear car honking, distant sirens, the wind. But suddenly, everything feels horribly quiet. His chest tightens.
“No.” his voice comes out as a whisper, “no no no…” you remain motionless in his arms, neck limp. Leehan stares, unable to understand, unable to accept it. He saved you, he caught you, he was fast enough. For once, he was fast enough.. So why–
His hands begin to shake. The realization arrives slowly. Cruelly. The impact, a force he couldn’t control, the thing even spiderman couldn’t stop. His breathing becomes uneven. “No…” the word breaks apart. He pulls you closer as if somehow that will change reality, as if holding on tighter will bring you back.
The city celebrates somewhere around him. The green goblin is defeated. The civilians are safe. Spiderman won. But none of it matters. Not when the person he was trying to reach all his life is gone. For the first time putting on the mask, leehan realizes there are some people he can’t save. No matter how much he loves them.
He pulls you into his arms properly, cradling you against his chest like he can shield you from what already happened. His gloves are shaking when they come up to your face. “Hey..” his voice breaks immediately.
He presses his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut, arms tightening around you instinctively. Then very suddenly, everything he’s been holding back for months comes spilling out.
“I’m sorry..” he says, voice shaking. “I’m sorry i didn’t tell you.. I’m sorry I kept pushing you away. I thought– i thought if you hated me, you’d be safe.” his breath catches, rough and uneven. “I didn’t know how to be both things at once.. I didn’t know how to be spiderman and still be yours..”
A broken laugh slips out of him, but there’s no humor in it. “I wanted to come back.. I was going to.. I just– i needed more time.. I needed to fix everything first..” his fingers tremble as they brush your hair back. “You were supposed to be safe,” he whispers, “that was the whole point..”
A pause. A long unbearable silence. Then his voice completely cracks. “You were supposed to live..” his grip tightens again, not letting go even as reality makes it unavoidable. And for leehan, that’s when it finally becomes real.
He can survive villains, he can survive pain. But he cannot save you from this. And as he hold you there, in the aftermath of everything he tried to prevent, leehan understands something he never wanted to learn. All the time he spent trying to protect you.. Ended with the one thing he couldn’t protect you from. Silence. Permanent. Irreversible silence.
And for the first time since he became spiderman, he doesn't feel like a hero at all.
The funeral takes place in spring. The season is wrong for something like this, too bright, too alive. Flowers bloom anyway, as if the world has decided to keep moving forward without permission. Leehan stands at a distance. He doesn’t come closer. He can’t.
Everything feels like it’s happening behind glass. Voices blur into one another. People speak gently, carefully, like the right tone might soften what has already happened. But nothing softens it. Because all he can see is the place you should be standing instead of laying in a coffin.
When it’s over, he doesn’t leave immediately. He waits until everyone else is gone. Until the silence only belongs to him. That’s when he finds it. A message on his phone. Unread. Sent the night when you were headed to his apartment, before everything happened. His hands shake before he even opens it.
Two words. ‘I understand.’
Leehan stares at it for a long time. Long enough that the world around him stops making sense. Because those two words shouldn’t exist there. They shouldn’t be real. They shouldn’t have come too late.
And suddenly, everything he tried to protect you from becomes unbearable in a different way. Not because you died hating him. You died understanding him.
The world moves on. It always does. Classes resume, streets fil again, the city forgets the shape of grief faster than it forgets the shape of destruction. But leehan doesn’t. He stops trying to separate spiderman from himself after that. Because there’s no separation anymore.
Spiderman failed you. Leehan failed you. Both names lead to the same ending, and he can’t decide which one hurts more.
Years pass, seasons keep changing the way they always do, spring returning every time like nothing happened. Autumn stripping the world down again without apology. But for him, nothing resets. Every spring looks like that night and your funeral. Every wind sounds like the moment you fell. Every quiet night feels like the space between his web reaching but too late.
He keeps patrolling. Keeps saving people. Keeps doing what he always did. But it only feels like repetition. Because somewhere deep down, he believes the truth never changed. If he had been faster. If he had been stronger. If he had told you everything sooner. If he had been honest at the start.
You would still be alive. And so he carries it. Not just grief. But the unbearable weight that even spiderman cannot save everyone.
Just like flowers, he never noticed the exact moment things began to die. Only that by the time he finally looked back at the garden he had been trying so hard to protect,
half of it was already gone.
divider by @andromeda-graphics | network @berrybittynetwork
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your boyfriend can’t sleep well, so you decide to surprise him
pairing: sunghoon x reader || wc: 2.6k || cw: all fluff and cutesy! established relationship, mentions of exhaustion and nightmares, kissing, use of petnames, mentions of showering together (non-sexual!) || warnings: none! || a/n: based on this lovely request <3 i looove this hoonie so much
sunghoon sits on the edge of the hotel bed in a foreign city, the lights of tokyo bleeding through the half-closed curtains. his body feels heavy, like every step on stage earlier drained something vital out of him.
the tour has been nonstop for weeks now, and tonight his throat scratches with the beginning of a cold while his head throbs in rhythm with the distant city noise.
he misses his home.
he misses you.
he lies back against the pillows but sleep refuses to come. again. the same nightmare from last night flickers behind his eyes every time he closes them — blurry images of forgetting choreography, of the crowd turning silent, of reaching for your hand only for you to fade away.
he turns to his side, hugging a pillow that smells nothing like you, and sighs. practice today was rough. his moves felt stiff, his focus scattered. the members noticed but said nothing, giving him space he doesn’t really want.
his phone lights up on the nightstand. it’s a message from you, sent hours ago because of the time difference. thinking about you. hope the show went amazing today. love you so much.
he stares at the words until they blur. his chest tightens. god, he needs to hear your voice.
he dials before he can talk himself out of it. the phone rings once, twice, and then your sleepy voice answers.
“sunghoon? baby, are you okay?”
he tries to speak but his throat closes up. the exhaustion, the loneliness, the pressure — everything crashes down at once. a quiet sob slips out, then another. soon he’s crying properly, shoulders shaking as he presses the phone closer to his ear.
“i… i miss you,” he whispers, voice cracking. “so much it hurts. i can’t sleep. can’t even practice right. everything feels wrong without you here.”
you’re instantly awake on the other end. he can hear you shifting, probably sitting up in bed back home. your voice turns soft and soothing, the way it always does when you comfort him.
“oh hoonie… i’m right here. tell me what’s going on. breathe with me, okay?”
he tries. he really does. you talk him through it — reminding him how proud you are, how the fans love him, how this tour is temporary and soon he’ll be back in your arms. you tell him silly stories about your day, about the cat you saw on your walk that looked like him when he pouts. for a few minutes it helps. his breathing evens out and the tears slow.
but then another wave hits. the nightmare flashes again. the emptiness in his chest feels too big.
“it’s not enough,” he admits quietly, ashamed. “i know you’re trying and i love you for it but… i feel so lost right now. my body hurts. my mind won’t stop. i keep dreaming you’re gone and i wake up reaching for you and you’re not there.”
you stay silent for a second, then speak with even more tenderness. “i wish i could hold you right now. i’d play with your hair until you fell asleep. i’d make you that tea you like and kiss your forehead until the bad thoughts leave. you’re doing so well, sunghoon. even on hard days you’re still my strong, beautiful boy.”
the praise makes fresh tears spill. he curls up smaller on the bed, phone tucked between his ear and the pillow. you stay on the call for over an hour, voice never wavering even as sleep tugs at you. you sing softly — one of the songs he wrote for you — and it almost lulls him. almost.
eventually his sobs turn to quiet sniffles. you whisper goodnight promises, telling him to try and rest, that tomorrow will be softer. when the call ends, the hotel room feels even emptier. sunghoon stares at the ceiling, phone still clutched in his hand, missing you worse than before.
the next day is worse. rehearsals drag. his voice cracks during vocal warmups and he keeps missing counts in the choreography. the choreographer pulls him aside gently, suggesting he rest, but sunghoon shakes his head. he pushes through, sweat mixing with frustrated tears he refuses to let fall. back at the hotel he skips dinner with the members, claiming he’s tired. in reality he just wants to lie in the dark and think about you.
night falls again and the cycle repeats. another nightmare — this time he’s lost in an endless airport, announcements calling your name but you never appear. he wakes up gasping, heart racing, skin clammy. it’s 3am local time. he knows it’s late for you but he calls anyway.
you pick up on the second ring, voice thick with sleep but full of concern. “sunghoon?”
“i had another nightmare,” he chokes out immediately. tears are already falling. “i can’t do this anymore. i feel sick and empty and i just… i need you.”
you comfort him again, stronger this time. you tell him stories from when you first met, how his shy smile made your heart flip. you describe in detail what you would do if you were there — wrapping him in your favorite blanket, cuddling until he feels safe, tracing patterns on his back. your voice is a lifeline, warm and steady, but he can hear the worry underneath it. no matter how much you say, the distance feels like an ocean.
“i love you,” you repeat for the tenth time. “this tour is hard but you’re not alone. i’m with you even from here.”
he nods even though you can’t see, wiping his face. “i know. i’m sorry for calling so much. i’m being a burden.”
“you are never a burden,” you say firmly. “cry if you need to. i’m here.”
the call lasts even longer this time. nearly two hours of you holding space for his tears and exhaustion. when he finally hangs up, a small spark of determination lights in his chest. he loves you too much to keep dragging you through his pain from so far away.
the following morning he moves through schedules like a ghost. another show, another flawless performance on the outside while inside he feels like he’s crumbling. during the encore he looks out at the sea of lightsticks and forces a smile, but his mind is on you. on how your eyes light up when he comes home. on how your laugh fills every empty corner of his life.
back in the hotel after the show, he showers and collapses on the bed. he doesn’t call this time. instead he texts you goodnight messages, heart emojis and promises that he’s trying. but inside the ache grows.
you, meanwhile, are pacing your apartment. the last few calls have left you restless. hearing sunghoon cry, hearing the exhaustion in his voice, it breaks something in you. you’ve tried everything you can from this distance — words, songs, memories — but it’s not enough. he needs more. he needs you.
you sit at your desk and open your laptop. your hands shake a little as you check flight schedules. the tour dates, the cities, the time zones. there it is — a flight leaving in two days that would get you to him. your heart races. you have enough savings. you can take the time off work. you’ve already quietly arranged things in your mind.
you don’t tell him. this has to be a surprise. something tangible to break through the fog he’s in. you imagine his face when you show up at his hotel door, how his tired eyes would widen, how he’d pull you into his arms and finally breathe easy.
packing is quiet and careful. you fold his favorite hoodie of yours, the one he always steals, and tuck in small gifts — his favorite snacks from home, a new pair of warm socks, printed photos of the two of you. every item feels like a promise. you’ll hold him through the nightmares. you’ll rub his back until he falls asleep. you’ll be there when he wakes up.
as you zip the suitcase, a soft smile settles on your face. the distance has been too long, the pain too heavy. soon you’ll close that gap. you check the flight confirmation one more time, heart full of love and nervous excitement.
you’re going to him.
sunghoon wakes up the next morning with puffy eyes and a heavier heart than usual. the hotel room feels sterile, the sheets too crisp, the air too cold without your warmth beside him. he drags himself through soundcheck, his body moving on autopilot while his mind replays your voice from the calls. you sounded so worried last night. he hates making you feel that way. during a short break he leans against the stage wall, scrolling through old photos of you two — your smile buried in his neck during a winter date, your hands covering his eyes as a surprise birthday cake appears. it makes the ache sharper.
the members try to cheer him up. jake slaps his back lightly and says something about powering through, but sunghoon only nods weakly. he performs that night with everything he has left, pouring the loneliness into the choreography, letting the bright lights blur his vision. the fans scream his name and it helps for those few hours, but the second he steps off stage the exhaustion crashes back down. another night of fighting sleep awaits.
meanwhile you sit on the plane, heart hammering the entire flight. the hours stretch endlessly as you clutch the armrest, imagining his tired face, his soft cries through the phone. you replay his voice in your head and it fuels you. when the plane finally lands you feel a rush of nervous energy. you text a vague hope you're resting well tonight so he doesn’t suspect anything, then grab your suitcase and head straight to the hotel where the team is staying. you had messaged their manager earlier in secret, explaining the situation, and he kindly arranged a keycard for you after confirming with the staff.
the elevator ride up feels eternal. your hands shake as you stand in front of his door. it’s late — past midnight — and you know he’s probably trying and failing to sleep again. you take a deep breath, slide the keycard, and push the door open quietly.
the room is dark except for the faint city glow through the curtains. sunghoon lies curled up on the bed, back facing the door, shoulders tense even in sleep. his breathing is uneven. you set your suitcase down gently and slip off your shoes, heart swelling at the sight of him looking so small and drained.
you approach the bed slowly and slide under the covers behind him. your arm wraps around his waist, pulling yourself flush against his back. he stirs immediately, body tensing.
“what—” he starts, voice hoarse and confused.
“shh, it’s me,” you whisper against his neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “i’m here, hoonie.”
sunghoon flips around so fast he almost knocks you off the bed. his eyes widen in the dim light, disbelief written all over his face. for a second he just stares, like you might vanish if he blinks. then his face crumples and he pulls you into his chest so tightly you can barely breathe.
“you’re… you’re really here?” his voice breaks on the words. tears soak into your shirt instantly as he buries his face in your hair. his whole body trembles against yours. “how? when? i thought i was dreaming again.”
you rub slow circles on his back, feeling the tension start to melt under your touch. “i couldn’t stand hearing you like that anymore. i booked the flight right after our last call. surprise.”
he lets out a shaky laugh mixed with a sob, hands roaming your back like he needs to confirm you’re solid and real. “you flew all the way here for me… i don’t deserve you.”
“you deserve everything,” you murmur, kissing his forehead, then his damp cheeks, then his lips softly. he tastes like salt from the tears and the faint mint of his toothpaste. the kiss deepens slowly, full of longing and relief, his fingers threading through your hair as if afraid you’ll disappear.
you spend the next hour just holding each other. sunghoon clings to you like a lifeline, head on your chest while you play with his hair exactly the way he loves. you whisper all the comforts you couldn’t give him over the phone — how proud you are, how strong he is even when it feels impossible, how much you missed his scent and his little pout when he’s tired. his breathing finally evens out, the nightmares staying away for the first time in days because your heartbeat anchors him.
“i love you,” he mumbles sleepily against your skin, already drifting off. “more than anything.”
“i love you too. sleep now. i’ve got you.”
the next morning sunghoon wakes up first. he watches you sleep for a long time, tracing your features with gentle fingers, a soft smile on his face that hasn’t appeared in weeks. when you stir he peppers your face with kisses until you giggle.
“best surprise ever,” he says, voice still raspy from sleep and crying. he looks better already — eyes less shadowed, shoulders more relaxed.
you make him stay in bed while you order room service — warm soup for his throat, his favorite fruits, and steaming tea. you feed him bites between soft conversations, making him laugh with stories from home. he eats more than he has in days, leaning into your side the entire time.
later you join him at the venue. the members light up when they see you, teasing sunghoon about how whipped he is, but their relief is obvious. during rehearsals you sit in the corner and watch him. knowing you’re there seems to unlock something — his moves become sharper, his voice steadier. every few minutes he glances over at you with that bright, lovesick smile that makes your heart flutter.
during a break he pulls you into an empty dressing room and kisses you like he’s making up for all the lost time. slow and deep at first, then playful as he lifts you onto the counter, nose brushing yours.
“you make everything feel easy again,” he admits between kisses. “i was falling apart without you.”
“you were never falling apart,” you reply, cupping his face. “you were just carrying too much alone. now we share the weight.”
that night’s concert is one of his best on the entire tour. you watch from the side stage, heart bursting with pride as he shines under the lights. during the slower songs he looks straight toward where you stand, singing with new emotion. the fans sense the shift in energy and the cheers grow louder.
after the show he finds you immediately backstage, still sweaty and buzzing with adrenaline. he picks you up and spins you around, laughing freely for the first time in weeks.
back at the hotel the two of you take a long shower together. not rushed or heated — just tender. you wash his hair while he hums happily, eyes closed in bliss. afterward you tuck him into bed and crawl in beside him, legs tangled, his head resting on your chest again.
“no nightmares tonight?” you ask softly, fingers drawing patterns on his scalp.
he shakes his head, pressing closer. “none when you’re here. you chase them all away.”
you stay with him for the rest of that tour leg. every morning you wake up wrapped in each other. you attend practices and make sure he eats properly and rests between schedules. you leave little notes in his bag — you’re my favorite person or can’t wait to cuddle later — and he finds them during the day, sending you hearts and shy selfies in return.
on off days you explore the city together hand in hand. he buys you matching keychains and insists on taking couple photos even when he’s tired.
at night he falls asleep easily now, whispering love confessions until his voice fades. the hard times still come in waves — another tough rehearsal, another wave of homesickness — but now he turns to you instead of suffering alone. you hold him through the moments when tears return, kissing them away until he smiles again.
one quiet evening in another hotel room, city lights twinkling outside, sunghoon pulls you onto his lap on the couch. his arms circle your waist as he looks at you with those deep, sincere eyes.
“i was really struggling,” he says softly. “the nightmares, the pressure, missing you… it felt endless. but you came. you always come when i need you most. i don’t know what i did to deserve someone who loves me like this.”
you lean forward and rest your forehead against his. “you deserve the world, sunghoon. and i’m going to keep reminding you every single day.”
he kisses you then — slow, grateful, full of all the emotions he couldn’t express over the phone. the kiss turns into lazy cuddles that stretch into hours of quiet conversation and gentle touches. outside the tour continues with its chaos and demands, but inside these moments, it’s just the two of you. safe. warm. together.
and sunghoon thinks, as he falls asleep with your heartbeat steady under his ear, that this kind of love is what carries — and will carry — him through anything.
