warnings: none. just soft late-night fluff, kissing, and si-eun being exhausted and clingy
notes: exam week. he gets too comfortable. that’s it that’s the fic.
You didn’t even bother texting first.
You just showed up at his place around 9:40 p.m., the hallway light outside his unit buzzing faintly. You knew the code. You’d known it for months. The door clicked open and the familiar quiet of his apartment wrapped around you—lamp on at the desk, the soft blue glow of his laptop screen, the faint smell of instant coffee and highlighter ink.
Si-eun was exactly where you expected him to be.
Hunched over his desk, shoulders tight, one hand buried in his hair, the other flying across a page of notes. Exam week. He always turned into this version of himself during exam week: quiet, focused, almost unreachable. You didn’t announce yourself. You just toed off your shoes, dropped your bag by the wall, and crossed the room.
He glanced up once when your shadow hit the edge of his desk light. His eyes were tired, a little red around the edges, but they softened the second they landed on you.
"...You’re here.”
“Mm.” You didn’t say anything else. Just walked past him, climbed onto his bed like it was yours, and flopped onto your back. The sheets still smelled like his detergent. You kicked one leg over the other and pulled your phone out, scrolling aimlessly, the soft light of the screen painting your face.
He watched you for a second longer than necessary, then turned back to his notes without another word.
That was the thing about the two of you. You didn’t need to fill the silence. You just… existed in the same space. And somehow that had become normal.
An hour passed. Then another. You could hear the scratch of his pen, the occasional soft exhale when he rubbed his eyes, the quiet click of him switching tabs. Every now and then he’d lean back, stretch his neck, and glance over at you like he was making sure you were still there. You always were—sprawled across his bed, one arm under your head, completely at home.
Around midnight he finally closed the laptop. The sound was soft, but final. You looked up from your phone as he stood, rolling his shoulders with a low, exhausted sound. His hair was a mess. The collar of his black hoodie was slightly stretched from how many times he’d tugged at it.
He didn’t go to the kitchen. Didn’t stretch properly. Didn’t even turn off the desk lamp.
He just walked over to the bed.
You shifted a little to make space, expecting him to drop down beside you the way he usually did when he was done studying—side by side, shoulders brushing, maybe his head tilted toward you after a while.
But he didn’t.
He climbed over you instead.
One knee between your legs, then the other, the mattress dipping under his weight. He settled his body over yours carefully, like he was afraid of crushing you, and then just… dropped. Full weight sinking into you as he turned his face and rested his head right on your chest, ear pressed over your heart, arms loosely bracketing your sides.
You froze for half a second.
Then your arms came up on instinct, wrapping around his back. Your fingers found the soft fabric of his hoodie and stayed there.
Si-eun let out a long, quiet breath against your chest. The kind of breath that sounded like he’d been holding it for hours.
"...You’re comfortable,” he mumbled, voice low and rough from disuse. His nose brushed the fabric of your shirt. “Too comfortable.”
You smiled a little, carding your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “Is that a problem?”
He didn’t answer right away. His body was completely relaxed on top of yours now, the tension from hours of studying melting out of him like he was finally allowed to stop holding himself together. One of his hands slid under your side, palm warm against your ribcage. The other stayed by your head, fingers loosely tangled in the pillowcase.
“I didn’t even think about it,” he said after a long moment. Quiet. Almost like he was talking to himself. “I just… finished. And the only place I wanted to be was right here.” His voice dropped even lower. “On you.”
Your heart did something stupid under his ear. You were pretty sure he felt it.
You tilted your head just enough to press your lips to the top of his hair. Soft. Barely there. “Then stay.”
He made a small sound—somewhere between a hum and a sigh—and shifted just enough to nuzzle closer, face pressing more firmly into your chest. His lips brushed once against the soft fabric over your sternum. Not quite a kiss. Not yet. Just the quiet, unthinking way someone touches a person they’ve gotten used to having close.
You felt the exact second he realized what he was doing.
His body stilled. The hand under your side tightened slightly. For a moment you thought he might pull away, that familiar flicker of self-consciousness rising in him like it always did when he let himself be soft for too long.
But he didn’t pull away.
Instead, he lifted his head just enough to look at you. His eyes were darker in the low light, heavy-lidded and honest in a way he rarely let them be. There was a faint crease between his brows, like he was still catching up to how natural this had become.
“I got too comfortable,” he said again, quieter this time. Almost like a confession. His gaze dropped to your mouth for half a second before coming back up. “With you.”
You didn’t give him a chance to overthink it.
You slid one hand up the back of his neck and pulled him down.
The kiss was slow. Tired. Soft in the way only late-night, exam-week kisses can be. His mouth was warm and a little hesitant at first, like he still wasn’t fully convinced he was allowed to want this. But the second you parted your lips for him, something in him gave. He kissed you deeper, heavier, his weight pressing you further into the mattress as if he couldn’t get close enough.
One of his hands came up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth while he kissed you like he was trying to memorize the shape of it. You could feel the residual tension in his shoulders melting under your palms. Could feel the way his breathing changed—deeper, slower—like your mouth was the only thing keeping him grounded.
When he finally pulled back, it was only far enough to rest his forehead against yours. His eyes stayed closed. His lips were a little swollen. A faint flush sat high on his cheeks.
“…Yeah,” he whispered, voice rough. “Definitely too comfortable.”
You smiled against his mouth and kissed him once more—lighter this time. Just a soft press of lips. “Good.”
He let out a quiet huff of something that might have been a laugh, then sank back down onto you completely. His head found its place on your chest again, ear pressed over your heart like it belonged there. One of his legs hooked loosely over yours. The full, solid weight of him settled across your body.
Outside, the city kept moving. Inside, the desk lamp stayed on, casting a warm circle of light over the two of you. His breathing slowly evened out against your chest. Your fingers kept moving through his hair in slow, idle strokes.
And Si-eun—usually so careful, so measured, so aware of every line he crossed—stayed right where he was.
On top of you.
Head on your chest.
Completely, unapologetically comfortable.
Like he’d finally stopped pretending he didn’t want to be.
sum. after your brother brings home a new friend, some events lead to an inevitable night of tension
warnings. stalking, voyeurism, unprotected p in v (please don’t), fingering, clothed sex, coming untouched, slight non-con but no rape!
m.list wc. 5.4k. genre: smut with plot
The quiet of the house was slowly getting to you, droopy eyelids, too stubborn to let you make out the text on the computer screen in front of you.
Your project partner, Wooyoung, didn’t share your struggle. The rapping of his quick fingers over tHhhe keyboard was filling the air, his eyes fixed on the spill of letters that you could already find mistakes in by just skimming the page.
Lucky for you, the assignment wasn't due until a few weeks — plus, there was a different reason, you'd invited your classmate over.
With your palms pressed into the kitchen table, you heaved yourself onto your feet, limbs crying in protest as the chair scraped across the floor lightly. You raised one leg slightly, just enough to slip it over his lap, lowering yourself with your arms raked over his shoulders for support.
A sound of surprise slipped from his lips as he instinctively curled one arm around your waist to hinder you from slipping off his thighs.
„What are you doing?“, he asked with a hint of amusement tingled in his words.
You just pressed your lips against his neck, mumbling barely coherent stuff against his skin. „My part of the assignment.“
He chuckled, but the clicking of the keyboard stayed steady as you started to straddled his lap, his bulge lying perfectly aligned with your crotch.
His voice was hushed, a mere whisper as you started to move with fervor, testing the best angle for this position. “What about your family?”
“Don’t worry.", you assured him. "The only other person in the house is asleep right now.”
Like usually, you were wrong.
You hadn't heard Kang ascend down the stairs, unaware of his presence lingering nearby. It took you a while before you let your gaze wander, chin propped on your crush's shoulder as you dragged your lightly covered core over his growing erection, the material in between just causing a delicious friction.
Through your peripheral you could make out a slight movement behind the wooden bars. Someone was crouching on the staircase. Your stomach dropped.
You were unsure whether you were seeing it right, hence your vision was growing blurry around the edges through the pleasure that kept spiking up your spine. With your eyebrows knitted and your lips parted around a gasp, you were about to call out, see if maybe you could get them startled, but-
“Fuck-“, your eyes almost rolled back into your skull as your clit rubbed up just the right way, putting a delicious pressure on just the right spot.
As you kept up your vigor, occasionally throwing back your head to focus on Wooyoung tending to your spot, your gaze kept flickering back to the shadow on the stairs.
There had to be someone. Your eyes narrowed, trying to get adjusted to the lack of light. You didn’t even realise that your movements had halted until the clicking sound on the keyboard stopped and a gentle hand cradled your waist.
“Why’d you stop? You okay?”, your partner prodded, but you just absentmindedly nodded your head, unsure whether you were the one picking up your pace or he had started to move your hips himself.
“Sorry.”, you simply muttered.
As you lowered your head to nestle back in the crook of his neck, you were certain. Someone was staring back at you.
And you couldn’t quite rip your eyes off what you could only assume was the hint of a grin.
There was something else churning in your abdomen. Excitement? Thrill?
Before you had the chance to dwell on that, Wooyoung slouched back, both hands on your hips as his head tipped back. You swatted at his chest in a playful manner, the sounds of protest dying on your tongue.
"No", you rasped. "Keep working. This is my part."
He chuckled, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before picking up his work again.
You couldn't quite put a finger on it, but the mere idea of being watched while you were vulnerable like this, it made your skin burn hot. Another shift between the bars of the staircase's railing casted shadows across the dim light. You kept your eyes fixed on there, your orgasm creeping up faster.
You kept your eyes fixed on there, hoping your eyes weren't deceiving you.
--
When you peeked into Lee Kang’s room later that night, he had his comforter pulled up over his had, feigning unconsciousness.
You chose to ignore the fact that you heard the stairs creak just before you made your way up.
That was the first time you started to doubt Kang's coy demeanor.
--
That night stayed with you for days, the weird feeling racing up your spine as the memory of that faint shadow flickered in your mind. A warmth spread through your lower stomach, remembering how hard you came through just a little friction.
Maybe you-
"Laundry!", someone called from downstairs, crashing your train of thoughts at once. You scrambled up from your bed, ignoring the weird tingle between your thighs as you rushed downstairs into the laundry room.
Before you could round the corner, a steady shoulder collided with your chest, sending you to tumble backwards. You let out an involuntary yelp, but a heavy hand on your lower arm kept you from losing your balance.
"Sorry.", Kang mumbled, avoiding your gaze as his grip lingered on your skin for a little longer than necessary before pulling back. Your skin tingled where he had touched you and you let out a breath that you hadn't even realised you were holding.
"It's okay." You forced those words out before forcing your feet to move forwards, thankful for your socks hence they made no sound even as you dragged them over the floorboards.
Kang sped up the stairs into his room like he was fleeing a crime scene but you decided not to read too much into it, instead focusing on your task at hand.
The sight of the dryer's open door bugged you, the spill of clothes that Kang had clutched into his left hand slipping into your mind.
He could've at least gathered all the clothes into the basket instead of just grabbing his own.
As you tossed the load into laundry basket, fishing out sole items to fold them, you found yourself missing one piece of clothing that you were certain to have placed into the washing machine before filling the drawer with detergent.
There was definitely a pair of your panties missing. Your worry was confirmed after spinning the washing machine's drum a few times but only finding a stray sock which you had to add to the dry clothing pile after having overseen it before.
With a sigh, you grabbed the basket and started to distribute the clothes to the matching wardrobes.
After you had successfully emptied the laundry basket, you still found yourself stopping short in front of Kang's door. Your missing piece of laundry shot into your mind again. He already picked up his share of the laundry, so you couldn't drop in casually- no, you had to ask. It should’ve been less embarrassing than having him find and return them. The idea of him handing you your underwear made you wince.
He might've accidentally grabbed it, maybe it had gotten tangled in his shirts.
Tentatively, you raised your hand, the wood rough against your knuckles as you were about to knock but the sudden sound emitting from the other side of the door had you freeze mid-motion. Was that a gasp?
Curiosity made your ears burn hot — you should've moved away from the door and come back later, but you couldn't. You felt drawn to the noises somehow, breath caught in your throat as you leaned in, instead, listening.
Another breathy pant ghosted in the air, the sound sending a tingle up your spine.
Shame settled low in your stomach, joined by a shallow throb in you underwear that you refused to acknowledge.
The door was cold against your cheek, but your face felt hot, nonetheless, your fingers twitching with the desire to push against the doorknob, just to peek inside.
You stood there, listening to your brother's friend jerk off at the other side of the door — an act that would make you smack your face whenever the memory came up, but in this moment, right then, it didn't really feel like a big deal.
Then you were stupid enough to move.
There was a stubborn floorboard just a few steps away from the attic's door — a spot you knew to avoid when you had to sneak out or move around the place without waking anyone, only now your mind was too clouded by lust to remember.
As the creaky sound filled the air like a siren crying havoc, panic filled your senses.
Instantly a faint scrape of wheels scratching wood sounded from the other side of the door, accompanied by the rustle of clothes being shuffled.
You cursed under your breath, trying to get back your composure as you casually pressed down the door handle, one hand grasping your phone with your thumb— feigning a scroll across your hastily opened instagram feed.
"Kang,", you started, taking your time looking up, hoping sincerely that the heaviness in your breath only existed in your imagination. “I think something of my laundry got mixed up with yours.”
Hesitantly, you allowed your head to rise, eyes flicking towards the guy who had clumsily placed one hand in his lap, shirt all crumpled where he had dragged the material to cover whatever wasn't cloaked by his low hanging sweatpants.
His breath was labored, eyebrows shooting into his hairline as he forced a surprised expression. Your legs actually trembled at the sight.
“Uhm. Really?” He pushed his chair back, the wheels making a soft noise as they drove over the creaky floorboards. Kang lifted the edges of the neatly folded shirts which he had tossed on his bedspread, quickly checking if anything had been caught in between, that didn’t belong there. “What does it look-“
A sudden boldness spread heavy in your chest. You bit your lip in agitation.
“Something that looks like this.”, you hooked your thumb into the waistband of your sweatpants, dragging the material down until the black lace of your panties grew visible, the polyester ribbon catching the light bulb’s reflection like an invitation.
Like a moth rushing to the tiniest speck of light, Kang’s eyes were drawn to the tiny string of lace cupping your hipbone. A hungry glint glossed over his eyes as he tried to drink in the sight before you snapped your pants back into place.
“And it matches this.”, you continued, pulling down the huge shirt that hung from your shoulder until the matching bra grew visible. You only let his gaze sweep over it for a second before your temerity faded, making you drop your hand back to fumble with the seam of your shirt.
Kang's voice was all raspy as he answered, finally returning your gaze. He ran the tip of his tongue over his lips in a quick motion.
“I don’t think it’s here.”
You nodded once, putting on an unwitting face as your eyes glimpsed to the tiny ball of lace that peeked from under his thigh.
“Damn. It was my lucky one.”, you joked, the humor somehow missing in your tone as you turned on your heels to head out, shoulders only relaxing after you heard the door fall back into the lock behind you.
---
The same night, you jolted awake to the ghost of a touch. Your arms were resting above your head, breath all raggedy and soft tingles racing up your neck. As your head whirled from side to side, scanning your room for an intruder, you found the place vacant. Except for an open drawer, there was nothing out of place.
Opposite even. As you padded over to your wardrobe to close the drawer, your eyes caught on a piece of clothing that was hastily stuffed in between the rest of the underwear. You tugged it out, lip automatically curling in distaste as you found the material to be a little damp and stiff.
You felt ridiculous bringing it to your nose, but it verified your assumption.
It reeked of hand soap and a hint of something musky. You tossed it into your laundry basket, followed by the pair that you were wearing hence you found them clling to your skin, soaked with something you blamed on a wet dream you couldn't remember.
You had a suspicion.
That was the second time you got a hunch about his shy demeanor being a farce.
—
The next day you had to rush to class, since too many thoughts had crowded your head the night before and forced you to stay awake. When you arrived to class, slipping into the seat between your friend and your crush, you hurried to copy the notes your friend offered you.
The brush of a hand on your neck made your skin tickle and you instinctively ducked away from the touch, repressing a giggle. "What are you doing."
Your friends huffed, eyes fixed on something you couldn't see from your position. "Are you two-timing me?", Wooyoung’s tone sounded rather amused than accusatory but you grabbed your phone nonetheless, craning your neck to inspect the spot.
Your mouth went dry at the sight.
Right below the dip of your chin, sat an ugly spill of purple and red. The broken skin was all irritated, angrily marked by someone you couldn't remember having asked anyone to suck the spot raw.
Your stomach plummeted as your brain clicked that you were staring at a hickey.
"I didn't give you that one.", he assured you through a laugh. You were not in the mood to laugh with him.
You decided to sleep over at your friend's place that night.
--
A few days passed without any occurence. You skipped dinner a few times and averted your gaze whenever Kang passed you in the hallways. Lucky for you, the house was big and your brother kept his friend busy with school assignments.
Most days you stayed out, only leaving your friends to head home to sleep.
It was impossible to avoid him for a very long time, living under a roof and everything.
Hence you found yourself sharing the couch one evening. It was the type of family movie night that your mom forced upon you once a month. One after one your family said goodnight, leaving you half asleep on one side of the couch while Kang occupied the other, just one pillow serving as a makeshift blockade.
Kang had probably assumed you asleep hence he didn’t explain why he up and left, leaving his phone on the pillow beside your feet.
His screen lit up with a notification.
A slight curiosity flickered in your chest. You had barely any time to think about the consequences as you palmed his phone, humming in content as you found it to be unlocked.
Adrenaline raced up your skin, all traces of sleepiness gone as you spied for something, no expectation on what you would find.
There was nothing special at first. Pictures of someone else’s class notes - probably from days he was sick - landscape pictures you’d post on your socials, no selfies. You refused to acknowledge your pout at the realisation.
As you grew oblivious to the fastly passing time, you didn’t pay it any mind that Kang was watching you, his hands buried into the backrest of the sofa where he was fixing you with something alike a glare, patient to see what you were up to.
You kept scrolling, but came up empty handed.
You were fix to give up, but luckily remembered that you weren’t born yesterday.
With secure fingers you swiped all the way down to the hidden option and clicked it. The password it asked of you hadn’t startled you either. Kang didn’t seem like someone who would put much thought into stuff like that. 2580.
It opened and left you with a sting in your stomach, like someone had thrown a punch.
Dozens of pictures. Hidden away. All from different days. You could tell by the clothes, you had a big array of fits. On some pictures, you were laughing with friends, others were taken here at home and one— in your room, while you were changing.
You stared at the picture of you in your underwear, the same that had disappeared a few nights ago, face zoned out as you thought about your style options.
The picture wasn’t taken from the door, it looked like he was hiding in the adjusting bathroom that led to your room.
With a troubled breath, you forced your trembling thumb to calm down, hovering over the delete button.
You cursed under your breath as you closed the app and scrolled across his home screen. You checked his screen time.
The notes app. Most used app on that phone, you noted.
There were a lot of entries blinking back at you, all dated. You clicked the most recent one. Dated to the last time you had talked to him.
I snuck into her room again.
Again.
I placed the panties back into her drawer. I wish I could've held onto them a little longer, but she grew suspicious, so I washed them in the sink. I was hoping she'd wear them like this.
Your heart squeezed at that, a low pulse starting to sync with the rhythm of your pulse. You bit your lip to hinder a gasp from slipping out.
I was going to leave right after. I swear, I was, but she kept making those noises.
Your throat grew tight.
She was on her back, legs spread like she wanted me to crawl in between — so I did. Kept making those cute noises while I rutted against her. I didn't mean to leave a trace, but I wanted a taste, a proof that I was there.
Your neck tingled in a phantom pain, remembering the hickey that had almost faded into oblivion until now.
She came first. I barely touched her, but she came, all due to me. Just from a little friction. I don't think she has much experience in it.
You only skimmed the rest.
I need to be inside her next time. I need to hear her moan my name.
You stopped there, clicking out of the note and searching for a date set a few days before that. There really was one. The date blinked at you, as you helt a hesitant thumb over the title, clicking it open.
I didn't mean to do it.
I thought I was alone at the house. The stairs were steady under my feet, cause I remembered which one squeak. I hate that sound.
I tried to slip into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, but then I saw her. And I’m convinced that she saw me too. I swear she did it on purpose-
The sound of a caugh right next to your ear pulled you out the focus, shoulders drawn up to your chin as his phone slipped from your grip and landed on the cushion with a soft thud.
“Well,”, Kang started, “was I wrong?”
The hint of a chuckle that was laced through his words made your heart thud violently against your rib cage. He was too calm for a person who just caught someone snooping through their phone.
Almost like he meant for you to do that. The thought came quick: unlocked, left right beside you with the screen up.
Your voice sounded distant as you forced your next words out.
“There was something else on your phone.” You reached for his phone again, clumsily scrolling through his note app until you had reached the entry of the day you got those panties back.
As you tilted the screen towards him to see, you avoided looking at him, but you somehow knew that his gaze wasn't set on the phone but rather at you. Your skin burned with the attention.
“That didn’t happen, did it?”
He just sighed, stretching his arms before dropping backwards. He landed in a more graceful matter than you would've imputed him capable of, the cushions dipping where launched himself against. His head landed right on top of the pillow next to you, head tilted back to meet your eyes.
He shot you a smile that made a traitorous warmth spread in your chest. You had trouble not to return it.
“The other day I stopped by your room to return these.", he fished in his pockets for something, eyes not leaving yours as he pulled out a black ball of lace. Your eyes widened at the realisation.
Without thinking, your arm shot forwards, strenuous to grab them back but Kang jerked his hand away just as the tiop of your pointer had brushed the material, a chuckle leaving his throat as you fell forwards, noses almost brushing.
The idea of moving away didn't exactly cross your mind.
"You were so peaceful in your sleep, until you started to squirm. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of dream you were having. You already know what happened since you read it. I was just eager to help you out."
His voice was honey to your ears, the actual meaning of what he was confessing only secondary to that sensation that made your pulse hammer.
„So the shyness was just an act?“, you almost sulked. You were unable to keep the disappointment off your tone.
He shook his head ever so slightly, the movement making you wiggle your nose to get rid of the ticklish sensation.
„You deleted my favorite picture, you know?“ His voice dropped an octave and you still couldn't find the urge to pull back, eyes tracing those choppy bangs which covered his eyebrows.
Without meaning to, you leaned further in. "You can take better pictures than that." With every motion your lips brushed against his and it took your all not to whimper into his mouth, but you couldn't hinder the sound from slipping past your lips as you feel his touch.
It took you by surprise as you feel his hand curl in your neck, pulling you down until your lips pressed together.
The kiss was upside down and the way his soft lips moved against yours, so sure and secure, full of practice, made you melt into him. You let out a shaky breath with every other nip, eyes fluttering shut as your body relaxed under his touch.
"You're not really like this, are you?", you breathe against him, lips still busy against his.
"hm?"
"Gentle. That's not what you're really like, is it?" You weren't sure how this thought survived long enough to make it past your tongue, hence your thoughts seemed too entangled to grasp the tiniest concept, so you started to think it never did.
But he heard it. And he was eager to prove you right.
You didn't fight it as he softly cupped your cheek and kept you steady while he turned his head to face you, rising from his lying position until he was sitting.
"Come here.", he mumbled against your lips and there was no reason for you not to do it, so you climbed into his lap, noting how you fit perfectly against his chest, tangling both arms against his neck.
He pulled back from the kiss, leaving you with a whine as you chased the warmth of his mouth, but he just chuckled breathlessly, turning his head to the side, away from you.
Irritation bloomed in your chest and you huffed, sliding your hands down his chest as you contemplated leaving him here and head to your room before it could get out of hand, but you didn't get very far.
Kang's eyes narrowed as he raked his gaze over your face, noting your expression with a hum.
You almost yelped as he grabbed your hips and surged forward, knocking the air out of your lungs as he pushed you on your back, following you down until his weight settled comfortably on your chest.
You blinked up at him, but his gaze settled on the curve of your neck, flickering up to the spot right beneath your jaw.
"Did it work?", he asked you.
"What?" You barely got out a sound, all your thoughts narrowed down to the curve of his lips. You needed another taste of him. The want inside you was growing embarrassingly ugly with every passing second that he wasn't connected to you.
"The hickey.", he clarified. "I haven't seen that guy around here in a while now."
Instead of answering, you raised your head, tilting it slightly to avoid bumping noses as you united your lips for a second time. He hummed in surprise but recovered quickly enough to dominate the kiss. He was back to caressing your face, tongue now licking into your mouth to draw noises out of you that left your own head spinning in self-consciousness.
By the second time Kang pulled back, you were panting beneath him, lips swollen from the constant switch between nipping and sucking. Kang wasn't doing much better above you, raking one hand against his forehead to brush away the sweaty strands of hair clinging to his forehead.
For a moment, you stayed frozen like this, eyes glinting in lust as your chest heaved in sync.
He reattained his composure first, moving off the couch as he extended his arm for you to take. He pulled you on your feet with a strength that took you by surprise.
His eyes crinkled at your staggered expression, muttering something affectionate under his breath before he pulled you towards the adjoinging kitchen. You didn't question it, expecting him to lead you up the stairs and into a bedroom but instead, he halted just before the kitchen counter, one yank against your arm making you stumble against his chest.
“Up.”, he ordered. You probably looked all dumbfounded as you glimpsed up at him, not understanding even as the cold marble of the kitchen counter dug into your back.
“What?”
His hands found your waist, thumbs gliding down your hip bones before his hands ascended as well, grip tightening before he helped you lift.
You grabbed the tabletop, supporting yourself until you were sitting.
He kissed your shoulder then, a little too intimate for the words that followed.
“I want to fuck you right where he fucked you.” His lips sent tingles of want against your skin, as he moved down your body, hands following the same path. He wasn't undressing you yet, just feeling you up.
As one hand cupped your breast, your knees instinctively tried to find each other, drawing together but Kang hindered you from closing your legs, stepping in between.
“In the kitchen?", you guessed. "We can’t. My parents are home.” The thought of someone rushing downstairs and catching you like this made a shiver run down your spine.
Kang didn't look half as worried, his expression carrying the hint of a thrill, actually.
“Then you’ll have to make sure you’re quiet.”, he just huffed.
“What are you-“ Your words died on your tongue as he slid one hand between your thighs.
“I know how you like it. I’ve been watching you for a while. I know just where to touch you." Like he had to prove it, he hooked one finger into your underwear, sliding the gusset to the side, before running his middle finger along your slit in an agonising pace.
You were incredibly wet already, your soaked underwear was sticking to your mound.
You muffled your cry against his shoulder.
His touch wasn't exploring. He somehow seemed to know exactly where to go next. Kang kept his lips on your neck, reviving that faded love bite as his finger parted your lower lips, the touch sending pure bliss through your veins.
Kang spread your slick with a deliberate slowness like he had all the time in the world, moving all the way from your hole to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves a few times before adding a second finger.
As he started to push those two inside your entrance, you bit into his shoulder, drawing a breathy curse from him.
You were wet enough for the stretch to not burn, but you weren't ready for how fast he was moving. His fingers barely teased your insides before curling, searching for that spot that made your head spin. He found it instantly, lips curving against your neck as you arched your back, chest pressing against his while he pumped his fingers inside you in a rhythm that made your toes curl.
You blindly grabbed at his hand, hindering his ministrations from continuing.
He shot you a look almost alike a glare, but you just shook your head, your free hand moving to tug on the waistband of his sweatpants.
Kang shot you an amused smile, giving you a quick peck on your cheek before pulling down his pants and boxers in one go, his half-hard length twitching as the rush of cold air got to him.
He was big, but you were too needy to enjoy the view.
Before he could give it a go, your hand closed around his flush member, pulling a curse from him as you gave it a quick tug, thumbing the leaking tip.
A few jerks of your hand helped him get harder and he responded to your parted knees by creeping closer until his tip aligned with your entrance. Kang wasn't exactly gentle as he pushed inside you with a quick thrust, his head falling back as he registered the searing heat that engulfed his dick.
Your breath failed to regulate as he started to move. With every snap of his hips against you, you muffled a silent scream, the drag of his veins against your delicate walls just too delicious to ignore.
Kang was bigger than you had anticipated, hence your build up was growing quickly, a pressure in your abdomen threatening to crest.
You missed the warmth of a bed.
His hands dug painfully into your waist, thumbs imprinting their silhouettes into your skin. You squirmed as you felt his teeth scrape against the joint connecting your neck and your shoulder, almost jumping in place when he dug his teeth into you.
This felt everything else but gentle and sweet. Fucking you on the kitchen counter, grinning as he watched you try to compose of your moans. This felt possessive.
His touch drifted from caressing your hips to grabbing your ass, kneading the flesh there before picking you up.
You yelped, holding onto him as your legs tangled around his middle. Somehow, he reached even deeper in this position.
Your pleasure bulled as he kept up his pace, his hips already starting to stutter, as he started to fuck into you harder. He angled your hips a little higher and-
"Fuck-" You failed to repress that one, earning a full on laughter from Kang as he kept it up, hitting that one raggedy spot that felt like it was too deep inside of you to even be able to reach but somehow, Kang was able to tend to it.
Your nerves felt alight, raw and exposed. There was a pressure that kept building, pleasure cresting as you felt him throb inside you.
Your legs quivered as your orgasm finally took over, shaking your whole body as you held on tighter to the man who was still holding you like you were part of him.
As you pulsed around him, walls tightening around his erection, he cursed softly against your chest, finally letting off your oversensitive neck, the whole area tingling and stinging with his artwork.
While your breath adjusted to your slowing heartbeat, Kang's grew erratic. His movements turned shorter, but he put more force into it. You winced as you'd grown strung out from your orgasm, hyper sensitive with every brush of his cock against your cunt.
You pinched your eyes closed, feeling body lock as he too had finally reached his peak. He surged forward, setting you back onto the table top as he rode out his orgasm, thrashing against you for a few more thrusts.
The moments that followed as you tried to adjust to the sticky liquid filling your insides, made your lips twitch in a smile.
Kang pulled back, returning your smile as your hand shot forwards to keep him there, panic flaring under your skin as you assumed that he was gonna pull out already.
Instead, he scanned your face with an almost attentive gleam in his eyes, one hand freeing your face from the damp strands of hair that clung to it.
He tilted your head upwards and gave you a tiny peck on your lips, resulting in you chasing his mouth for more. He chuckled as he gave in.
“I’m sick of it.”, he mumbled, finally.
“Of what?”
“Watching other people fuck you.” Your thoughts were still too scattered to read more into it. You didn't acknowledge what he meant by people.
Hadn't you been fucked out like this, you might've wondered why he was speaking of plural, hence you were convinced that he had only caught and watched your sexual act with Wooyoung.
˚⊹ summary : Sieun gets a late-night text from someone unexpected, prompting a swift rescue on the university campus.
˚⊹ warnings : university!au, mentions of drinking, implications of being outside and alone at night.
˚⊹ word count : 2.7k
Hey, so it's been a while... to make a long story short, I was at a remote archaeology site with no reception for a few weeks, came home, my cat passed, and then I got a high fever that lasted a week, and I almost ended up in the hospital... so yikes.
Anyway, here are some crumbs of writing while I plan out bigger projects.
⁺⋆ masterlist⁺⋆ k-drama masterlist ⁺⋆ ao3 link ⁺⋆
The gentle yellow glow of the desk lamp illuminated the small corner of Sieun’s dorm room. It was late, impossibly so, but his brain was as active as ever and conjured up nothing but equations and theorems. His textbook on multivariable calculus was open to a new section, the words packed onto the page in a neat manner. He was already three weeks ahead in the course, finally finishing off the final unit. His pen glided over his notebook to write at the top: evaluating double integrals over regions in polar coordinates.
A buzz from the corner of the desk caught his train of thought. It had buzzed a few times in the last couple of minutes, but he had chosen to ignore it. The only time he got erratic texts in the middle of the night was when the group chat he was in became active. It was a small chat, yet always active, typically because either Suho or Baku were messing around and insisted on dragging the rest of the friend group into it.
His eyes did not drift from his notebook, and he continued writing.
Evaluating double integrals in polar coordinates converts Cartesian integrals to θ and r to simplify integration over…
Another buzz. A small huff of air escaped his nose.
The key step is including the Jacobian factor…
The vibration continued. His pencil twitched in his hand for a moment, stopping for a fraction of a second before continuing.
Before he could even write another word, his phone buzzed again.
His eye twitched slightly before he relented and picked up the phone. His lockscreen flashed with a number of texts, all from the same person.
You.
He tried to ignore the way his heartbeat picked up. You never really texted him, but admittedly, he did not either.
It was the semester prior when he met you. He, Suho, Baku, and Gotak were at the cafe just off campus, where they would have a coffee every Friday, when Juntae pulled up with a new friend who was in his program.
You were incredibly kind, but shy at first. Sieun remembered how long it took for you to warm up to the group, but when you did, it was like night and day. You were vivid, as that was the way he decided to put it; bright, intense. However, you never pushed him. He liked that you never invaded his space despite joining the friend group.
Yet, here you were, texting him at two in the morning. His eyebrows scrunched up as he opened his messenger app.
SIEUN.
SI-SI. 👋
IM SRUNK 🤠
PUNK
DRUNK. SO DUNK. 👏💯
They were messy, riddled with emojis, and ultimately worrying. He adjusted in his seat before typing out a response.
Sieun: are you alright?
You: yuppppers man.
A few seconds passed before another message came in.
You: I don’t know where I am.
This raised some concern in Sieun’s brain. Before he could move, his screen lit up with an incoming call from you. He swiped to accept, and the sound of your voice came through.
“SI-SI!” You giggled for a moment, “I’m lost, Si-Si.”
He didn’t know where the nickname came from, and he was not a big fan of it, but the way your voice pitched just slightly higher when saying it made him choke down his grievances for the time being.
“How much have you had to drink?” Sieun asked.
“I don’t know,” He could hear your slurred voice, “You’re the math major. You tell me, smart number man!”
Sieun sighed and sat up straighter in his chair while his free hand ran through his dark hair. His digital clock ticked, indicating a pause in his pomodoro study time, but he did not care.
“Where are you?” He asked as he got up and began to search for his keys.
“I said I don’t know, Si-Si. Uhhhh… I - Woah!” The sound on the other side was incomprehensible, almost like a person tripping, until your quiet murmurs picked up, “Who puts stairs there? I mean, did the person who, uh, uh, who decorated? No, designed. Did the person who designed this thing even think?” Your rant completely ignored the urgency of Sieun’s voice.
He spoke your name to get your attention, “Stay where you are. Don’t move. Are you outside? Inside? What do you see?”
His hands moved to grab the grey sweater hanging off the back of his chair. His voice was sharp, but low, with his heartbeat beginning to sound in his ears. It was late, too late for you to be alone somewhere and drunk. Sieun did not even realize he was halfway through his door before he understood your stair rant.
“Wait, stairs? Like, concrete ones with metal railings and a double yellow strip at the edge?” He asked.
Your gasp came through the speaker, “Yeah! That’s them! They’re very… official. Are you here? I can’t see you.” He could hear you shuffling on the other end, likely glancing all around to try and find him.
“That’s the side stairwell behind the library. You’re on campus.” Sieun started walking, almost jogging, with his keys clutched between his fingers and phone pressed tightly to his face.
“Why are you even there?” He continued, “It's 2 AM, and that area’s always barely lit and…”
“I just wanted some air,” You spoke, “I was at the bar with some friends because we passed our midterms, and it got hot inside. I tried going back to my dorm, but everything looks… different.”
“Because it’s in the opposite direction of your dorm,” Sieun responded as he exited his dorm building into the chilly night. It was slightly foggy, making the streetlights cast a heavy glow everywhere. “Just sit down. Don’t hang up. If someone approaches you, start describing them to me, but quietly. You got that?”
“You don’t have to come all this way…” Your sad tone was a stark difference from your bubbly mood less than a minute ago.
“Yes, I do.” His response was immediate, assured, and left no room for arguing. It was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, “I wouldn’t be able to study knowing you're lost on campus.”
“You’re sweet, Si-Si.”
Siuen’s steps falter slightly, caught off guard. “I’m not sweet. I’m annoyed. You’re wasting my study time.”
Yet, the lie falls flat even to his own ears. He’s already halfway across campus with his breath fogging up the cold air. Sieun moves to the side of the library and turns to the corner to see the stairs. There, in the faint glow of the only light behind the building, he sees you.
You were sitting on the top step, legs drawn up, shivering in the short black dress you had on. He was surprised and greatly relieved that you had managed to make your way up the stairs without falling. Your head lifted as he approached, a glassy sheen over your eyes like you were holding back tears.
He stopped just before you, having ended the call now that you were in sight. For a moment, neither spoke.
“Si-Si.” You shivered. He reacted on instinct, taking off his grey sweater and draping it across your shoulders.
“Can you stand?” He asked while looking at the heels you had on. They were long and thin, and looked like a pain to walk in.
“I think?” You asked. When you began to stand, your body swayed slightly. Sieun took action immediately. One of his arms snaked around your waist to steady you. His heart was pounding, the sound taking over his ears. He hoped that the cold air would make an excuse for the red flush on his cheeks.
“You can’t even walk straight.” Sieun muttered. He looked back at the stairs and thought of the path back to your dorm. Unstable, some weird bits of sidewalk, all too much for your state. His dorm was closer and on a levelled pathway.
Sieun hesitated, just for a second, then adjusted his grip, holding you a little tighter.
“We’re going to my dorm. It’s closer. Your dorm path may as well be a mountain trail in your condition.”
“Yours?” You questioned, blinking slowly, “But… rules and stuff…”
“Rules don’t matter when someone is about to faceplant on public stairs.” He cut dryly, guiding you along the path. You stumbled again and muttered a small ‘oops,’ but it did not faze him. His arm was locked around you like an anchor.
The walk was quiet, and only the sound of their footsteps and distant cars could be heard. His mind was running.
You’re here. Drunk. Leaning against him like it's nothing, like it makes sense that you would fall into his arms after months of polite distance outside of the friend group.
Yet, you texted first.
That had to mean something.
Eventually, the two made it back to his dorm. With some maneuvering, he fished out his keys from his pocket without letting you go, unlocked the door, and led you inside. It was a small dorm, with a single bed, a small bathroom, and room for a desk and dresser.
“Sit.” Sieun placed you on an upholstered accent chair in a corner. “Don’t fall over.” He went to his dresser and began to search around for comfy clothes for you to change into. It was an oversized black T-shirt and dark sweatpants. He then turned and handed them to you and helped you up.
You looked at the clothing in your hand dazedly, fingers feeling the fabric as if not quite understanding. Meanwhile, Sieun cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but at you.
“You can’t sleep in that dress.” Sieun muttered. He guided you to the bathroom and closed the door so you could have privacy. However, you opened the door slightly after a few moments.
“Sieun?” Your voice came through the crack in the door, “Could you unzip my dress? I can’t reach it.”
He paused for a moment, eyes trained on your face.
“Uh, yeah… yeah, I got it.” Sieun’s heart was beating so fast it could have broken a rib. He shuffled forward with uncertainty as the door opened wider. Your back was turned, hair held to the side, and his eyes zeroed in on the zipper between your shoulder blades. His fingers, slightly shaking, reached up to pull on the zipper.
Sieun had his eyes closed the whole time. The moment he felt it was open enough, he backed up, grabbed the doorknob, and closed the door quickly for your privacy. His face felt so hot, he scrambled to cross his room and opened the window to let in cool air.
Despite his room being silent, his ears rang loudly. There was a moment there, when he briefly opened his eyes to spot the doorknob to close it, that he saw the contours of your back. It was burned into his mind, and he cursed himself for thinking about it. You were a friend, trusting another friend at a time of vulnerability. Why did he have to be such a guy thinking about that?
If he could fit through such a small gap, he might have climbed out of the window by then.
By the time your frame exited the bathroom, his heart had not settled. If anything, by the sight of you in his clothes, it beat faster. They were oversized, giving a soft, cozy appearance he had never seen on you before.
He swallowed hard and continued to evade eye contact.
“Here.” Sieun reached out and handed you a water bottle. “You need to hydrate.”
“I’m not a plant, Si-Si.” You mumbled. Despite the words of defiance, you easily took the bottle anyway, your fingers brushing his.
Sieun ignored the spark at the momentary contact with your hand. “Just drink it. You’ll thank me tomorrow when you’re not dying.”
He paused for a moment, “And don’t call me that.”
“... Si-Si?” You tilted your head as you sat on the edge of his bed, right by where he stood, and took a sip of water, “You don’t like it? I thought it was cute.” Your words were still slightly slurred.
“It’s ridiculous,” He shot back, but there was no real bite to it, “Yeon Sieun is not Si-Si.”
“But I like calling you Si-Si.” Your voice eventually trailed off as if you were thinking about something distant, “I’ve wanted to for a while… even when you act cold.”
A heartbeat passed.
“Even though you aren’t.”
The words landed like a stone over water, shattering the surface tension.
“You…” He stared, then stopped as his fingers flexed at his sides. His eyes flickered to yours, meeting that sleepy gaze for a moment before he looked down again with a conflicted expression on his face.
“You’re only saying that because you’re drunk,” He muttered, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You put the cap of the water bottle back on and placed it on the nightstand. He watched as you leaned back into his bed and shuffled under the covers, as though you felt it was fruitless to convince him otherwise. Your limbs relaxed as your eyes closed.
He should feel irritated. Normally, something like this would bother him. He should be annoyed that his study time was interrupted, but he could not find it in him to care about that.
Not when you looked so strangely small and soft in his clothes. So… pretty, just simply existing in his space.
Quietly, Sieun switched the overhead light off, leaving only his small desk lamp to cast a soft glow over the space. He sat down at his desk and stared at his textbook and notebook that had yet to be put away, still on the page that was open when he left.
Time passed; he was not sure how long, when he heard your voice from behind him.
“Sieun,” You sounded unsure and shy, “Thank you. I’m sorry about this. Next time, I’ll call someone else. I don't know why I called you.”
“No,” Sieun spoke up abruptly, and almost a little too loudly with urgency, “No. Next time, call me. No matter how late.”
He turned around in his chair, surprised by his own response. There you were, cocooned in his bed with the blanket tucked all the way up and under your chin. He felt his heart squeeze.
“Seriously,” He mumbled, “Don’t call anybody else. Especially if you’re like… this.” He gestured vaguely towards you.
“Why?” You asked.
“Because…” Sieun felt ridiculous admitting this out loud, but knew that you may not remember this entire conversation.
“Because I want to be the one to make sure you’re safe.”
“Because you care for me?” You asked.
“I care about your safety.” He dodged your question. It came out in a frustrated tone as he felt himself getting defensive. It was like he was trying to convince himself as much as you, that he did not feel anything beyond friendship.
“You won’t remember this in the morning,” Sieun spoke.
“But if I do?” You teased, but the middle of that sentence was halted by a yawn, and your eyes could barely stay open.
“Go to sleep.” He said in an attempt to end the conversation.
“You’re cute, Si-Si.” You yawned again and closed your eyes, fully settling into the bed. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
He stared at you for a long moment. Your steady breathing, the way you curled slightly into his pillow as though you belonged there. He felt the same way he did when you walked into that coffee shop all those weeks ago, trailing behind Juntae and nervous to meet his friends.
Ever since then, all he could feel when you were around was like being on the edge of a drop on a rollercoaster. Creeping towards the drop where his stomach would soar to his throat and his heart would burst.
Sieun got up and grabbed the spare blanket on the end of his bed, laying it over the comforter on top of you. He remembered how you mentioned always getting cold at night. He closed the window and locked it before sitting back at his desk.
He settled in to continue studying. The problems in his textbook did not feel as challenging as they did less than an hour ago.
Only the sounds of his pen on the page and your soft snores carried through the small dorm room.
sypnosis: it was supposed to be a dull evening after cram school, something Sieun always expected. However, when a girl asked him to share his umbrella with her, fate has already written their love story.
tags: fluff, angst, violence (fights, typical weak hero), sieun being in love, reader is a huge candy lover, rain, they're in love and a little crazy
credits: @designlikenonsense (dividers)
and to the original owners of the pictures above (pinterest)
a/n: i'm obsessed with him, that's all. this is shitty writing skills.
Yeon Sieun lives with structure.
With a routine he knows too well and an everyday precision he is used to.
He wakes up early, brushes his teeth then takes a bath a little colder than a normal person would. Get dressed in his uniform and put on his grey hoodie that he's been robing himself in since high school started, then eat a piece of toast bread and a boiled egg so his stomach wouldn't be empty. And he is off to school, the sky is still dark, people half-awake for a new day in the bus, but not him, he's already focused on listening to a lesson explaining the history of the 1979 Islamic Revolution.
And when he arrives in his classroom, the ritual of opening the lights and allowing the rising sunrise to enter the classroom is normal. It brought him the tiniest peace of mind, making him calm when the sunlight hits his face that reminds him he can still feel something outwardly.
A reminder that he is still breathing.
A reminder that he is still a human.
That he exists.
However, the structure is ever present. It's written in his notes, in his notebook and books, along with his cellphone he only uses for studying and listening to podcasts and sometimes for music. It will not leave him, it's a part of him that keeps him from crumbling and losing all the efforts he built for himself, and silently for his parents he wished to love him the way it should be— for him, not what his brain could produce.
He's intelligent, that he knows. It's on his awards from competitions, medals hung on his neck before it was displayed on his bedroom walls and was never touched again.
He doesn't talk much, but they know he is smart. And maybe, it's the only thing people will associate him with. Nothing but his brain.
Because Yeon Sieun is a quiet, boring boy whose entire world revolves around studying.
That is his way of holding himself together.
Maybe, it always will be.
—•••—
Supposedly for him, it should have been a normal evening.
Sieun walks out of the cram school and is greeted by the hard pouring rain that soaks his shoes and socks quickly.
He was not surprised it happened. The wind was way too cold when he got out of school and the weather forecast notification he got had said plenty of warnings.
“Excuse me...” a voice called him from behind. Hesitant and shy.
Sieun turned to face you, even if he doesn't want to talk doesn't mean he has to be rude to someone who called him gently.
“What is it?” he asks, a little loud so you could hear him in the rain.
You beamed when he acknowledged you, sighing in relief as you clutch your cardigan closer to yourself for warmth.
“I’m sorry for bothering you but can you share your umbrella with me at the bus station?” you ask politely.
There was an expected/pleading look in your eyes while rain droplets started to stick on your hair to your forehead and getting colder because of the rain accompanied by the cold wind.
And you were asking him. A complete stranger. Someone who goes to the same cram school as you and doesn't know his name at all. All because you forgot your umbrella and the rain was unforeseen.
No one had asked him for help before.
Sieun gulped, nervously. He doesn't show it but he is, because he didn't know what to do except to help you because you looked like a wet puppy asking affection from its owner.
Try to be kind. Just be kind, he kept telling himself in his mind before he nodded his head in agreement to help you from your unpleasant condition.
He opened his umbrella that's big enough for two people, blocking the notorious rain from getting the both of you wetter and waited for you to walk with him.
“Oh! Thank you so much,” you say in joy, your smile is bigger now. Comforted by the fact you were not going home looking like a drowned rat. Mostly.
You walked towards him as you settled your position under his umbrella, leaning close but not too close for your sleeves to brush on each other. There's a distance that is not overstepping his line because he was kind enough to share his umbrella and it is more than you could ask for.
Silence envelopes between the two of you. There was no awkward atmosphere going on, just a silence that seemed natural as the two of you walked as fast as you could to the bus station. You were so focused on getting in there you didn't notice your hands were gripping on his arm unconsciously.
Sieun went rigid because of that, a body contact where he would pull away as usual. Like the time his father touched his face and he did not like it. It was an exposure of his fragility, and the touch was evidence that he could be hurt easily.
But why are you so soft?
He can't fully feel your hand on his arm because of his jacket but the softness of your touch produces his normally spiraling mind into a blank state.
She's touching me. I have to ask her to remove her hand on me.
He didn't say anything.
Sieun was staring ahead, wishing that his eyes could catch the sight of the bus station so you would let go of him and this almost robotic-like movement of him could be gone. After that, he would forget about it, because you'll forget him and he'll bury this moment in his brain, never bringing it up.
“Thank God, we're here.”
That took Sieun back from thinking too much.
And both of you sheltered your heads in the bus station, standing side by side, with some of the students who were also in the cram school waiting there.
A bus arrived, one that wouldn't drop him home but seems like it'll reach your residence when he hears your tiny 'yes' and a quick prayer of gratitude.
Then, you looked at him before your lips curled into a smile. “Thank you for your help, by the way. I'll probably drown in the rain if it wasn't for you.”
You placed your bag in front of you, opened it up and searched through your bag haphazardly that might have triggered off his need for tidiness and organization of his stuff.
“Here,” you pulled out a small bag of gummies. The colorful worm ones with chemical sugar around them. “Take it, please.”
He wants to refuse again.
There's no way he would accept a bag of candy as some kind of reward for helping someone. It's unhealthy and tastes off in his tongue. The sourness that will make him wince and his stomach would certainly grumble until he flushes it all out in the toilet.
His traitorous hand extended to grab the gummies, almost connecting with yours if he didn't pull his hand away in a flash.
You didn't seem to mind. You're just happy the quiet boy who helped you accept your small offering.
“I’ll see you then, I guess,” you chuckled and gave him another smile. Then, off you ran to the bus as Sieun watched it drive away while he waited for the next one.
Sieun stared at the bag of gummies on his hand. Trolli sour glow worms. He had never tried it before.
And when he gets home at the empty apartment because his father is still gone from a competition, he will study and listen to the math lessons his mom posted online while he snacked on the gummy until he finished the whole pack.
—•••—
“You’re the guy from cram school!”
You exclaimed with enthusiasm and a high-pitched voice that could make people turn their heads over the sound within a half second.
To say Sieun was not expecting to see you in a department while he searched for a pair of socks and a sweater was an understatement. He stiffly avoided every salesperson he came across to look for the things he needed alone. He would like their help but he doesn't have the courage to ask for help, rather seeking it all by himself.
He wanted to be done with it as much as possible until you spotted him and practically ran towards him to view his face closer so you wouldn't mistake him for someone else.
Quickly, you covered your mouth and mumbled a small 'sorry', clearing your throat and offering a small and polite smile that didn't hide your excitement.
“I’m glad to see you!” you said, still energetic but controlled. “I mean, we see each other in the cram school but of course we can't talk to each other because we're very much listening to what the teacher's saying and I very well want to enter a nice college. And I'm still thinking if I should go to SNU or Yonsei, but my mom said I could easily enter Ewha if I study harder, but that school is so expensi—”
Just as fast as you talk, the sudden your silence takes over.
Sieun was looking at you as if he heard you read a whole nook with the speed of a rabbit. He couldn't keep up with what you were saying, he was noticing the sparks escaping out of you as you rambled on before you finally realized your habit.
“Oops.”
You looked at Sieun who was staring at you with his unreadable face but there was something else, his eyes were wider than the night you asked for his help. Maybe overwhelmed by your yap, you did talk too much whenever you got excited.
You scratched the corner of your hairline, averting your eyes on every surface of the store except him.
Deeply embarrassed, your cheeks flushed a little. “Sorry about that, it's just I was really happy to see you.”
He blinked and waited for a bit to hide his confusion. “Why would you be happy to see me?”
You shrugged, eyes gleaming brightly. “I don't really know. I just am.”
You're so weird.
Those are the words Sieun wanted to say, but couldn't. It would be rude so he just nodded his head and thought of how he could get away from you right now. He has things to buy.
“May I know your name?”
You added more to erase any sign of awkwardness, “Because you helped me and it was a lot for me. Oh and we also went to the same cram school so it would be inconsiderate of me if I didn't know the name of my saviour that night.”
Is the rain really a big thing to you?
His gaze shifted back to you as if he heard you wrong. Like you were telling a joke that he would not understand and would not laugh at.
And you, standing there like asking for a boy's name who helped you once requires all the strength you have in your body that shame disappeared for a minute.
“Sieun.”
He's so done for. He thought you'll forget about him and now he uttered his name after you asked prettily.
Prettily?!
No, no, no.
You asked nicely.
Nicely.
There's no such thing as prettily asking someone's name.
Then, you beamed like the lights inside the store are in rival with your smile.
And yours won.
“Yeon Sieun.”
“Yeon Sieun,” you muttered his name like you're tasting a new meal. Repeating the name until it grows on you. “That’s a pretty name, Sieun.”
Now, you are calling him pretty.
You told him your name.
He repeated it in his head.
And your name is hard to brush aside like he can dust it off and walk over it. Instead, he engraved it in his mind so he wouldn't forget, like the name itself is a sacred thing for a feeling he couldn't name.
“I’m really glad I could catch up on you, even just for a few seconds,” you declared with utmost carefulness and gratification. You said it like you meant it and it was real.
Still, he couldn't help but be tense at first, and almost thought it wasn't real and you are just playing with him but he examined your face for any inauthentic reaction... there was none.
You started walking backwards slowly, your left hand gripping on your bag while your right one saluted at him.
“I’ll see you around, Sieun!”
He did a small and discreet wave once you turned around and didn't see it, copying your wave shyly. You went back to the makeup station where you were when you spotted him.
And then while checking the sweater he wants to buy, he wondered if he'll ever see you again, or if the second time is pure coincidence.
—•••—
He sees you again for the third time.
And it's not in cram school like the second time.
It's more different.
This time, you didn't greet him with a smile.
You were crying. Crouched on the ground beside a convenience store, hands hiding your tears driven face from everyone who is glancing at you in a weird way.
You don't feel shy about it, instead you are releasing all the cries you had been locking in your heart for too long.
And something aches in Sieun’s heart at the sight of you.
Yes, he knows you on a surface level. You took notes diligently during cram hours, gave gummies and other sweets so you wouldn't feel the intense studying, laughs on your own when the given lessons felt impossible to solve. And recently, he found out you like shopping for the things you don't need but still buy them because they are pretty. Like the long, decorated in white flower beads earrings you never wore again.
His feet betrayed him before his mind does. Already striding towards you
Knowing those things doesn't guarantee that he is a friend. He's more of a peer. A cute peer in a grey hoodie and sometimes sweaters that always cover his arms.
He swallowed the anxiousness he was feeling and said, “You’ll ruin your back if you continue to sit on the ground like that.”
You looked up and saw him. It made you chuckle and shake your head in amusement. “It’s you.”
You.
You said, like you were expecting to see him.
“I’m starting to believe you were following me,” you joked even in your current state of destruction. Words trembling with a shaky laugh. “If not, then fate seems to like playing with us.”
You blew your nose on the tissue, crumpled the snot tissue and threw it in the trash can.
“I...” you sniffed, pinching your flushed pink nose then turning your head to see his face examining yours with care.
You chuckled before looking down again on the concrete walk side of the road.
He's so cute.
“I’m sorry you had to see me this way,” you apologized though he didn't mind helping you on your lowest. It's at least what he could do for the slightest pain on your chest to go away.
“It’s just that everything is too much and I need to let it all out.”
Hearing your words, an idea comes to his head.
He stood up from his seat and you looked at him, confused.
“Follow me,” he said eventually. Short and intentional. So whatever his idea is, it might be the best decision you'll ever make.
Just like that rainy evening, you walk with him side by side, and silence comes between you naturally like talking doesn't have to be on every second.
You tried to be discreet as you glanced at him to study his face.
Sieun’s a few inches taller than you, his hair looks fluffy and neat, he has a round face, and the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen in a person. He always wears long clothes and sometimes you catch a glimpse of his white ear pods.
And when you are watching him leave the cram school, he is always alone.
Is he just the same in his school?
The thought caused your shoulder to sink and your eyes to water again.
And just like earlier, Sieun noticed.
Bewildered, he looks at you closely as tears slowly fall on your cheeks. To make matters worse, he doesn't know how to react or what he should do.
“Why...” he gulped nervously, his brain screaming at him on many things at once he stayed stiff. “Why are you crying?”
You were wiping the tears still flooding out of your eyes.
You tried to answer him with hiccups and incoherent sounds were your answers which he couldn't understand but he remained quiet and listened attentively.
At the end of your crying and his silent comforts, you two are now sitting beside each other on a bench in a quiet park.
Sieun lent you his handkerchief to clean your nose and dry your tears. Of course you wouldn't give it back to him unless it's clean, so you thanked him and promised that you'll return the handkerchief back in no time.
A sigh escaped your lips before a smile appeared. “This is really nice. I don't come here often but maybe I should now. It's quiet here.”
He hummed in response, also enjoying the silence with you.
He had never done this with anyone. Sitting on a bench, staring at nothing, and nothing to talk about like the time decelerated, allowing you to breathe and relax your burdened spirits with some respite.
“I fought with my mom today.”
He tilted his head, thoroughly listening.
“She got angry with me because according to her, I wasn't studying enough for my future.” You finger quoted. “And I’m just really stressed because instead of letting me finish my homework, she lectured me with the time I could use for studying.”
You raked your hands through your hair in frustration. “God! Does it look like I'm not trying?!”
Sieun watched you stand up suddenly and shouted to the sky. He didn't stop you, he can see the contained anger slipping out of you, and he wishes he could do the same.
He wished he could shout this loud.
He wished he could release these feelings he's concealing within him until the heaviness of his body disappears.
“God, does it look like I'm not trying?! I have not slept enough in the past three weeks preparing for this exam! I couldn't even hang out with my friends because we're all pressured here! All of us! And what for?! For a minimum wage job that will ask us how long a corn dog is in inches?!”
He was starting to feel like he should stop you but he remained sitting on the bench.
“I love studying. I love it so much but you're making me hate it! Freaking hate it— Ow!”
You accidentally bend your ankle sideways a little too hard after you kicked a stone and walked without your mind on it.
That made Sieun paced to help you up before you attempt another clumsy kick that could injure you further.
“God...” you sobbed, getting up on your feet with Sieun’s help. “When is this gonna stop?”
Before you could acknowledge it, you were leaning on Sieun with your head resting on his shoulder. You were shaking, it turns to a cry again, clutching on his clothes as if it is the only thing that would keep you grounded.
Sieun, who never received a proper hug before, wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and squeezing your arm like he was expressing that you are safe with him.
And you are.
You have friends you could confide in on this matter, and you experienced safety with a boy— one who is quiet and it did speak more than any promises of your mother.
You and Sieun stayed like that for a few minutes.
He's giving you comfort while you are giving him warmth.
Looks like you need one another for different reasons that creates a band-aid on your broken souls.
Maybe having a friend isn't so bad. Maybe the isolation he forced himself in should end here, or maybe he'll make a special accommodation for you. Not because you are the person on his mind these days— no, simply because the trust has been formed before the friendship could be verbalized officially.
He will dream about this. When he welcomes the sleep and closes his eyes then suddenly, you are in his dreams like you belong there as a gentle presence relieving him of his whirlpool emotions he had been containing. This night where all the worries shifted into a companion you can rely on.
—•••—
How you got his number is a mystery since all you could remember was you weeping on his shoulder until you calmed down.
But ever since you've got his number, you texted him once per day for you cannot disturb him whenever you wanted to. The friendship might be over before you could hang out because of a line that you shouldn't cross.
Still you couldn't help but text him sometimes, studying and facing another new day became bearable at the idea of him seeing your message and replying to them. He's not actually cold as he sometimes acts to be. Just a normal boy who is now your friend. A boy at the top of that, and a very cute one too.
'Good morning, Sieun! Have a nice breakfast and don't burn yourself out, okay? I'll see you later at hagwon! FIGHTING!!'
Your messages to him can be daunting.
Sieun spent his time re-reading your text messages like it's the exam itself. That he had to be careful with his answer so whatever the outcome is, it has to be positive. One that could put a smile on your face as possible would be wonderful.
There's no way he can just text:
'Thanks, you too.'
Or,
Yeon Sieun reacted 👍 to your message.
It can't be. You deserve more than meager messages that you'll tolerate unless you'll think he doesn't want to be your friend and you're just simply annoying him.
He will not tell it to you in person or chat but he likes the conversation he has with you where you'll do the talking, and he'll do the listening.
Ah yes, a girl's dream.
Whereas Sieun remained motionless reading your message for the eighth time as if the words would dance and change positions for a new sentence to come but it's the same kind message you sent thirty minutes ago.
He let out a sigh, a nervous one tingling on his throat, and typed a message to you with trembling fingers.
‘See you too.’
Sent.
Sieun banged his head on the study desk, wincing in pain as a red mark formed on his forehead from the impact. His eyes were closed from the disappointment creeping on his chest and something else called regret made him want to slam his head again on the hard wood.
What he doesn't know is it caused a smile on your face and a giddy feeling in your chest.
You wrote a new message.
‘You wanna hangout? My treat.’
—•••—
Sieun’s routine had a new variable.
You.
You have been hanging out with Sieun for three months, and those months that passed were nothing but magnificent and exciting in a calm manner.
He was greeted with an excited wave, jogging towards him before you walked together on the sidewalk while you thought of what activity the two of you should do.
On most days, you guys ended up in a cafe. New cafes. Familiar cafes. Cafes that are just for aesthetics while the foods are terrible.
You critiqued all the cafes you've been with, writing them down on his notebook neatly with smooth decorations and doodles— a small drawing of smiskis (he had no idea what they are), coffee and tea cups, most are pastries or pastas, and his personal favorite was your doodle of a cat. He just likes them, they're cute and just like you, even if you drew them as a representation of him (you wouldn't tell him that).
He found himself staring at those doodles every time he opened his notebook. At school, he flips the pages almost automatically and looks at them for a minute before scribbling his notes on a blank sheet of paper with those drawings and you in his mind.
It doesn't help him concentrate but rouse him to study better like there's no one else he likes to please but you.
That struck something within him. Something he thought he was incapable of. Something that no one offers him.
He had fallen for you.
“Sieun?”
The math teacher called, confused at the sudden pause in action of her student she had not seen before.
Sieun didn't hear them, deep in his thoughts. He gripped the chalk tightly, the equation on the board was missing an answer.
His answer. Practical answer for a practical problem.
He wrote his answer before walking back to his desk with his head down.
831.
Eight letters. Three syllables. One meaning.
“Good job, Sieun,” the math teacher said. “Moving on, you see the dependent variable—”
Sieun blocked the voice, his hands were shaking, his mind was spiraling. Because him? Him? Having a crush now? On you?
Not like him.
But it sits right within him, there's no denial that smacked him in the back because he realized it and he cannot turn back now.
Shit.
—•••—
“This for me?” You gasped in joy, receiving the chocolate box with such delight he only saw in little children with their presents they wished for.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome,” he answered, cool and short. Just like him and his amazing personality.
“You’re keeping my blood sugar high and my stomach happy, Sieun,” you said, opening the box. “I’ll probably get diabetes here but that's fine. You only live once.”
“...”
You snacked on the chocolate covered almonds. It tasted heavenly.
The chocolate was definitely a bad idea.
Because you guys visited another cafe.
This one surprisingly didn't suck. You enjoyed their cheesecake that you also shared with Sieun, feeding him with your own fork, asking him if it was good and he nodded his head. You were too happy from the iced coffee and cheesecake you didn't recognize the blush on his cheeks, and even if you did, you'll think it was from the AC.
After leaving the cafe, the next thing you do was to stroll, a casual, leisure walk with small talks and silence. Well, you do the talking all the time. Even if your throat dried up and an embarrassing crack of your voice followed, he paid them no mind.
“I’ll give the cafe 8.9/10. Amazing service, delicious food, but the restroom toilet isn't working. They need to get that fixed,” you rambled on like the words left flawlessly.
Sieun listened. He'll write your ratings on that cafe in his notebook.
Beneath the indifferent look on his face, he was fretting and memorizing the sentences he wanted to say out loud without his nervousness holding him back but it does.
His hands were clammy, sweat emerging on them and the corner of his forehead.
You have been his friend for three months now. Three months is long enough to know you. Three months is enough to perceive his affection towards you.
Sieun is not a brave boy. He was a silent one.
And now, he will put it all aside to test new waters in the idea of liking you.
He called your name, simply yet careful.
You were a few steps ahead of him, glancing at every food stall there is on the side of the road. Thinking of what you should buy— tteokbokki, fishcakes, dry noodles, ice cream, hotteok. Food.
You spun around to face him, your skirt fluttering for a second and Sieun thought you were a fairy there. A cute fairy with an obsession for sweet stuff.
You looked at him, expectantly. “Hmm? What is it?”
Blank. The lines he practiced vanished when you looked at him like that. Full attention on him.
His anxiety increased.
Sieun’s mouth tightened, the sweat came back on his forehead as he swallowed the anxiousness curling in his stomach.
“I think I like you.”
He confessed.
He waited.
And you halted.
You replayed what he said in your head like a song you're beginning to like and play on repeat. Heart racing in beats is not normal, but maybe if your crush confessed to you, it'll be possible and a miracle that you're still alive.
“Yeah?” you asked, a grin evident in your voice.
He didn't notice as his gaze lowered, consumed by his own agitation. “Yeah.”
Suddenly, you rushed towards him, drawing near to him. You had to look up a little to watch his flushed and still unreadable face with amusement. You couldn't hide your joyous grin, you were very into his words like they were the nicest compliment you heard from him.
Sieun felt his heart somersaulting once, and twice, many times his brain almost forgot to circulate properly. He tried to calm himself down, stepping a foot backward, but you pressed forward eagerly and he knew he couldn't escape the confession that came out of him, he has to face it and accept your rejection or reciprocate his advances.
“Really?” you questioned again, there's a glimmer in your eyes that says more than what you asked.
Pretty.
Sieun nodded.
You are pretty.
You hummed, staring at him as if you're looking right through his soul. Your hands held together behind your back, raising your toes up to discard any space between you as you placed a precious kiss on his plump cheek.
Though it's a chaste kiss, quick and intentional, Sieun went still like a rock. His body forgetting how to function, the words he had been practicing after studying gone in his head by a kiss, an answer to a question he didn't ask but both of you knew he would.
You like him too.
—•••—
He's unable to sleep.
1:28 am.
He was still awake.
Sieun groaned onto his pillow, clutching the comforts firmly as he counted sheeps in his mind, a silly little effort to cease the confession earlier and the small kisses that resulted after.
He walked you home. You thanked him, then kissed his lips, and you went inside the apartment complex with his racing heart on your hands and the kiss implanted in his entire being.
Now he can't put himself to rest. Turning and trying comfortable positions but to no avail, those didn't work too.
He huffed, closing his eyes with you permanent and vivid in his mind.
The next day, his eyebags were bigger and darker. Miserably in need of sleep.
—•••—
You were waiting for your boyfriend.
Yes, it's official.
Sieun is dating you, you are dating Sieun.
Every time you recall Sieun is your boyfriend induces a giggle on your lips and a heavy blush on your cheeks as if it was unreal that you are dating this boy who possessed all the traits you want in a man.
A dream come true for you really.
You glanced at your phone for the tenth time, searching the road from left to right in hope of seeing Sieun’s approaching figure. He's running late and he hasn't texted you.
You were starting to get upset with him, the past few days were so busy with school requirements and homework you couldn't spend time together. Now it's the weekend, you really want to be with him for hours until Monday comes and messages are the only motivation from each other.
Putting your headphones on, you were oblivious to the fact that there are two guys watching you like lecherous hawks. Whispering a secret conversation ending with quiet laughs and a fist bump like sealing a deal involving you.
Then they move slowly in your direction, unnoticed and discreet, knowing you aren't gonna notice them.
And you didn't.
It all happened so fast as a handkerchief was placed in your mouth to prevent you from screaming and they dragged you away to the dark, praying silently for help with his name in your thoughts.
Sieun.
—•••—
Sieun was extremely worried.
You had been missing his calls.
And no matter how long he texted you (he overthink his messages), you always answer them in a heartbeat.
He was caught up with his mom after a private tutor lesson when he was supposed to meet you on time. At dinner where his mother pretended she was still present in his life. But in Sieun, she had already disappeared, and the woman he had been meeting was the person who gave birth to him. She was never a mother and it was really stupid of him seeing her once a month just for her to tell him that he's becoming independent and doesn't need anyone. He wants to cover his ears that were bleeding internally on hearing them repeatedly when she's across him.
All he needs— especially right now, is you.
Your gentle smile, your sweet laugh, your affectionate hugs... He needs them like he needs air. And he couldn't wait to dive in your arms again, eat store bought ramen with you and probably stroll with him in the park which you absolutely adore.
So when he doesn't see you in your meeting spot, it sends him into panic mode. Calling your number, looking for you around the area, even shouting your name in antsy. Yet you never responded in one of the three.
He was already on edge during the dinner with his mom, and you were added to the equation because he cannot find you and his guts kept telling him you are in a bad position.
Bad. Bad. Bad.
Stressed and concerned, he will not give up till he tracks you down. He would not let his aching limbs slow himself down because there is an important matter, and that is named you.
He grabbed his phone from his pocket, remembering that you downloaded a tracker app on his phone so you'll know his whereabouts if something bad happened, and he'll know yours for the same reason. For protection. For safety. Because the adults in your life failed you both, and you have to rely on each other.
Sieun watched as a dot flickered on his phone. It's your location. It worked. The app worked.
And then, he followed the red dot.
There's a bad feeling sitting on his chest when he reaches the street.
Dark, the streetlights barely working. No other people were in sight, just stray animals who hid in the dark quickly since his presence arrived.
He had to stay calm and focused, but also quick in detecting your location, because the coldness of his guts tells him darker, illicit thoughts about you that he wouldn't be able to stomach if it did happen.
Mumbles. Two voices. He heard them near your location, it felt as if cold water was dumped over him because his prediction was indeed true.
This time, he did not like being right.
“This bitch fought like a monkey.”
“Shit! What are we gonna do?”
The first guy scoffed. “What else? Let's sell her then. The old hag needs more girls in her club. She's gonna worth a thousand, got that fair skin and flat stomach. Pretty too, probably a vi—”
He stepped on the small alley where he heard the voices.
And there you are.
Laid down to the ground, blasted lips, messy hair, and your clothes, they were crinkled as if they wanted to remove it on you, get you naked for their lustful desires in some rundown and sketchy alley where someone hearing your screams would be unlikely. You tried to fight them, to release yourself and run as fast as you can, but they were stronger and got more pissed with you.
Instead of relief that he finally found you, Sieun’s gaze darkened. As cold as the winter time, as sharp as the eyes of the snake targeting its victim.
They hurt you.
These boastful and idiotic men are a waste of oxygen.
Sieun felt like the people he sees are colored in red.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
He moved before he could think. Overwhelmed by the instinct to avenge and inflict the pain they've done to you back to them. Sounds acceptable.
Because right now, all the lessons, all the lists he has in his mind are replaced with the will to protect you.
He struck the guy wearing a blue hat first with his heavy bag, the very one you tried carrying for him because you insisted on being a caring girlfriend but after five steps in and you huffed in exhaustion and handed the bag to him.
The guy let out a yelp and his hands were on his pained face. He dropped to his knees from the impact.
“Fuck!”
Then Sieun pulled out his pen in the pocket of his jacket. Launching on the other guy who threw a punch he barely dodged and stabbed the guy’s shoulder. He digs the pen deeper and it forces a lot of blood to ooze out of the skin, fighting the strength of the guy trying to remove the weapon out of him. It was an intense push and pull until Sieun harshly kicked his foot.
“You son of a bitch!”
The first guy recovered from the bag punch, fuming in rage as he attacked Sieun with his fist.
Sieun barely saw it coming and the punch collided on his face and he fell on the ground. Everything is blurry and his head throbbing, he hardly hears your voice pleadingly calling his name to stand up.
Before he could do so, two feet abruptly stomped over him, pushing him on the ground and sloppily hitting his body. They were cussing and spatting at him while Sieun covered his face with his arms, trying to find a solution to escape his predicament.
You don't have the time to be frozen on the dirty ground while your boyfriend was being beaten closer to death, staying there hoping for a miracle will do absolutely nothing to help him.
Head snapping on every area of the alley, looking for a weapon— wood, broken vase, rusted knife, just anything to fight back. Then you saw a crowbar, a bit far from you and would probably provoke your broken ankle but for your Sieun, you'll do all things that can be seen as impossible.
You grabbed the crowbar, adjusting the heavy object on your palm as grimes and filth covered your hands, attacking the guys on their faces, forcing them to step back on Sieun. And your man lifted himself up, shaking from the kicks he received from those guys, eyes glaring darkly on them after doing an inexcusable act on humanity.
Sieun gently seizes the crowbar from your hands, kissing your forehead and caressing your cheek. Even in your unpleasant situation, he's so pretty and kind, all the warmth he could give was reflecting on his eyes back to you, because you are the only recipient of the love you taught him to accept and understand.
You fell down on your knees, quaking from the pain on your ankle as you watched Sieun hit the bad guys with the crowbar again and again. Faint pleas for him to stop left their split lips where he kicked and punched them as a reply until they went still and knocked down in the dark alley.
He stood before their limp bodies, one of his legs pressing one of the guys down, the crowbar hanging on his hand like he was a grim reaper in physical nature. He was breathing heavily, eyes closed after winning a battle to avenge you.
His hands were shaking and he let go of the bloodied weapon. The crashing sound of the crowbar filled the entire space along his quivering heavy breathing and his body on the verge of collapsing after losing his rationality resulting in two beaten up men, scaring himself and almost losing you.
You should be scared of the horrifying scene in front of you like how Sieun is terrified of himself.
The unconscious boys who tried to assault you and hurt you badly. Wounds on their face and other parts of their limp bodies you couldn't see.
When you watched Sieun fight them, you were certain you heard bone cracking and muscles torn that would heal slowly for a long time as if it was a punishment awaiting them after messing with the wrong couple.
But instead of being terrified of Sieun, of what he could do to anyone who crossed him— you chuckled, staring at him lovingly.
Like what he had done was the best gift he could ever present to you.
Why would you be terrified of the boy who saved you when you are about to lose hope of getting help?
He loves you so much he maimed someone to free you from danger.
If authorities find out what he has done for you, they'll imprison him for years, but your Sieun didn't care. As long as you are safe, he can risk anything just to see your radiant smile and feel your warm body on his cold one.
Blood trickling down your nose, combining with the snot you continued to sniffle while you're staring at the limp bodies of those boys.
You feel no pity for them. They deserve it.
“Sieun-ah,” you called him softly like he is your saviour. Your salvation. Your beloved.
Sieun waited for you, for the command you had to tell him so he would know what you needed and he would provide it to you with no questions asked.
You extended your arms to reach for him. Softly pleading. “Hold me, please.”
He didn't hesitate to hold you in his arms, letting your body lean on him when your legs tremble from the pain you're feeling in your bones. You felt him quivering too, seeking you as much as you needed him.
He hugged you tightly with a silent oath in his blood.
No one will hurt you again. He will never allow it.
As long as he breathes and loves you, no one could harm you like today again.
—•••—
His father wasn't home yet and you don't want to be alone in your home as well, so you decided to stay in Sieun’s for the night because at least when you are with him, you are safe and secured.
You aren't interested in what's playing in the television, the brightness on the screen almost swelled your eyes again but for a different reason, so Sieun picked up the remote and turned off the TV.
Oh, how he could know you without you speaking.
Silence engulfs the living room and you rested your head on his shoulder, staring at the window as if nothing happened on some alley where you realized someone loved you more than you could imagine.
The tea on your mug (he prepared it) was cold now, halfway done but you don't have the strength to finish the whole cup, so you let the wind erase the hotness of your drink.
“I think I love you.”
Sieun said with conviction against your hair, like if he didn't say it now, tomorrow may not come. The words didn't come out as unsure, but with honesty he's been trying to learn as he navigates his emotions and feelings to you.
You smiled fondly, the words tickled on your skin and you lost your breath for a half second before you mumbled the words back, sure and aware.
“I love you too.”
You leaned to him and he met you halfway to share a kiss.
She'd had plenty of practice before becoming a loner—the art of pretending everything was perfectly normal. And, for once, she had to thank her parents for not being around. The silence gave her enough space to think things through and get her emotions back under control.
Not that there was anything to get emotional about in the first place.
Her tutoring sessions with Sieun continued as usual. No, she hadn't stopped trying to decipher his gaze, even though it was rarely directed at her unless she'd made a mistake in a math problem. The awkwardness existed entirely on her side. For some reason, she found it surprisingly difficult to move past something so trivial when she'd survived far more embarrassing moments before. Like the time a girl had quietly pulled her aside to let her know one of her bra straps had slipped off her shoulder. Compared to that, this was nothing.
After rethinking a dozen times whether she should continue sitting behind Sieun, she concluded that he had no idea about her embarrassment, so nobody really cares.
"We have a new student." The teacher's voice drew everyone's attention to the front of the classroom, where a frail-looking boy with glasses stood beside her. "Please introduce yourself."
"Hello. I'm Oh Beomseok."
He looks like the perfect candidate for Youngbin's next target.
And just as expected, the boys gathered around him the moment the teacher stepped out of the classroom. "Where are you from?" Youngbin asked.
"Mungang High School," Beomseok answered.
Youngbin let out a chuckle. "Born with a silver spoon, huh? You know Jiwon from Mungang? We're best buds."
It was no surprise that the kind of friends who flocked around Yeongbin would be exactly like him. Beomseok just confirmed the fact with his stutter and body language. With a quiet sigh, she looked away and found Suho asleep at his desk, his head resting on his folded arms. She poked him relentlessly until he clicked his tongue in annoyance. Amusing.
For someone so terrible at framing sentences, Suho was surprisingly good at reading her mood. She remembered him waiting outside after her shift the previous evening.
"Come on," he'd said. "Do you really think Sieun actually overthinks things the way you do?"
She'd genuinely tried to stay annoyed with him. It hadn't worked. He just had some misconceptions about how she had a crush on Sieun, but that's understandable when she barely talked about anyone else. Or to anyone else.
"You stare at him a lot," Suho muttered without lifting his head.
Y/N leaned over slightly. "Do you think he knows?" she whispered.
One eye slowly opened, followed by a grin. "Wow." He looked almost impressed. "So we're finally past the denial phase?"
Before she could defend herself, she saw Sieun enter the classroom which shut her up pretty quickly. Not just because he was the topic of discussion, but because Youngbin was currently sitting on his desk.
"Move," Sieun said evenly. "That's my seat."
Youngbin turned around with a glare and said, "I don't want to."
Oh, fuck.
Y/N noticed Sieun lower his gaze for a brief moment before picking up a pen. When he looked back at Youngbin, his expression hadn't changed. "I said move."
Youngbin clicked his tongue and got to his feet. "I'm getting real sick of your attitude." The others stood up beside him. Y/N instinctively started to rise from her seat, already thinking of how she could stop this before it escalated. But Suho beat her to it.
"Why are you guys so chatty these days?" he mumbled. "I'm trying to sleep." He lazily lifted his head from the desk. "So... can I go back to sleep?"
Youngbin scoffed, but he and his friends backed off almost immediately. For all the trouble they caused everyone else, they seemed to know exactly where to draw the line when it came to Suho. Y/N didn't know whether Suho always interfered because he didn't like bullies, or if he sensed the anger Sieun carried with him.
She was about to send the most risque text she had ever sent to anyone.
"Oh my God, are you shitting me?" Before she could react, Suho snatched the phone from her hand and quickly typed something.
"Hey!" She grabbed it back just as fast and stared at the screen.
"You do realize you're technically making me text myself?" Suho groaned, glaring at her.
The mock test is the day after tomorrow. She needed tomorrow to revise everything on her own, without Sieun's help. Which meant today was her last tutoring session with Sieun. Assuming she passed, there wouldn't really be a reason for them to keep meeting after this. The thought left an odd feeling in her chest. She wanted to spend a little more time with him...just today. Which meant she actually had to ask, and it wouldn't be possible if she didn't make any plans.
"So?" Suho asked, "Did I fuck it up?"
Y/N looked down at the message and frowned, "I... don't know. Is it weird to ask for more tutoring when he's already covered everything?"
When she looked up, Suho was smiling. A little too knowingly. "So?" he asked. "Why are you so nervous?"
"Well... after the stunt you pulled yesterday—"
"No." He cut her off. "Why does it feel like you're about to lose him?"
Y/N froze. She lowered her eyes to her phone again, avoiding his gaze. She didn't want to answer that. But it's no use hiding anymore.
"Okay, fine," she sighed, dropping her forehead onto the desk. "I just think he's cute. That's all. He has pretty eyes, okay?"
"You can see those pretty eyes every day in class."
"...Not up close." A small smile escaped before she could stop it. When she looked back at Suho, he was already wearing that irritatingly smug I-knew-it grin.
"But something feels... off about him," Suho said after a moment, the teasing fading from his voice. "Just be careful."
Y/N nodded and raised her eyebrows, "I know what you mean. He's kind of scary."
Suho looked offended. "Am I not scary?"
"No." She rested her chin in her hands. "You're more like a dog. And before you yell, that's a compliment."
Ting.
Both of them looked at her phone. Suho immediately dragged his chair closer. "It's happening." Y/N opened the message.
Sure.
One word. That was all. Yet somehow, it was enough to make her smile. Suho burst into laughter and raised a hand for a high-five. "Am I not the greatest wingman ever?"
"Anything else?" Sieun's voice pulled her back to reality. His eyes bored straight into her soul.
Good Lord. Two hours had gone by, and she'd run out of excuses to keep the tutoring session going.
"Are you stalling on purpose?"
Y/N flinched. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Instead, her eyes drifted to the fading marks around his neck. "Did you... not apply the medicine?"
"I did."
That was it. She couldn't take the awkwardness anymore. Suho was right. She could always see him in the classroom. Slowly, she packed her books into her bag.
"Um..." She hesitated. "Do you want to grab dinner together?"
Sieun stood up, packed his things, and slung his bag over his shoulder. He didn't answer and simply started walking toward the exit. Y/N smiled to herself as she hurried after him. Close enough.
The evening air was cool as they walked in silence. After a while, she glanced sideways at him. "I feel like you're entering dangerous territory," she said. "Youngbin is one step away from becoming a criminal."
"So am I."
Y/N stopped in her tracks. Was...Was that a joke?
A laugh escaped her. "You know," she said as she caught up to him, "I think I'm starting to understand you better."
Sieun, who had been walking a step ahead, slowed down and looked back at her. There was something about his eyes, or maybe the way he said it. Whatever it was, she could feel warmth creeping into her cheeks. Either in embarrassment or in fear. Maybe both.
"Same goes for me."
Y/N's heart skipped a beat.
Surely he didn't mean that the way she thought he did...right?
Baku had always been careful with you. Too careful, honestly. After years of rejection, finally having someone he genuinely loved made him terrified of messing things up. So he kept his hands respectful, his affection soft, and his feelings painfully obvious. But one pair of shorts, one accidental glance, and suddenly Baku discovers a very specific weakness he absolutely cannot stop thinking about.
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Warnings:
aged up characters, suggestive themes, shy and clingy boyfriend Baku, thigh obsession, reader teasing, awkward flirting, lots of blushing, physical affection, kissing, masturbation mention, slightly pervy thoughts, lovesick behavior, fluff mixed with tension, Baku being embarrassingly down bad but still respectful.
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Baku was the type of boyfriend who treated you like something delicate.
Not in a weird way. Not like he thought you were weak. More like… he genuinely couldn’t believe someone like you was real. After years of getting rejected, laughed at, or ignored, finally having a girlfriend—you especially—felt unreal to him.
So he was careful.
He never pushed your boundaries. Never pressured you into anything. Half the time he was too nervous to even touch you first. You honestly found it adorable.
At the beginning of your relationship, you didn’t even think he was serious. Sure, he was sweet, but Baku wasn’t exactly known for being academically gifted, and he acted like an overexcited puppy whenever you gave him attention. You assumed he’d lose interest eventually.
Instead, he became even more persistent.
He waited outside your job just to walk you home. Called you every single day. Begged you to come to his basketball games. Randomly showed up outside your house with snacks. And whenever he wanted to take you out to eat, he’d always end up bringing you to his dad’s chicken restaurant.
He knew it wasn’t fancy.
But you liked chicken.
And somehow, that mattered enough to him.
Once you officially started dating, he only got softer around you. He loved kissing you, though he always acted shy about asking for them.
“C’mon… one more.”
“Please y/n?” He whined.
You used to laugh every time he begged, but you always gave in anyway. He reminded you of an excited puppy wagging its tail whenever you showed him affection.
Even holding your hand used to make him nervous.
Sometimes he’d stare at your hand for a few seconds before looking away again, like he was debating it internally.
Can I hold it?
He never wanted to assume.
So the first time you grabbed his hand instead, his entire face turned red. His ears burned as a huge smile spread across his face almost instantly, his large hand quickly wrapping around yours like he never wanted to let go.
You had to look away just to hide your smile.
Baku was terrified of messing things up with you.
He’d rest an arm around your shoulders, maybe pull you closer during movies, but that was usually it. He always stopped himself before going any further, worried he’d scare you away somehow.
That was until one afternoon at his dad’s restaurant.
The little bell above the entrance rang, and Baku immediately looked up from behind the counter.
Then he saw you.
You waved casually before walking inside wearing a pair of shorts and a black short-sleeved top.
You always looked pretty to him.
But this time… something went wrong in his brain.
His eyes dropped for a second.
Then stayed there.
Your thighs.
The shorts rode up slightly as you walked, and suddenly he couldn’t focus on anything else. Heat rushed straight to his face as he quickly looked away, feeling embarrassed for even staring in the first place.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Still, later that night, he caught himself thinking about it again.
And again.
And again.
Baku swallows hard, feeling the sudden, undeniable tightness in his pants. Crap, he was already rock hard. It wasn't unusual for him to get turned on by you—a simple kiss or a smile was usually enough to get him going…But this? This was completely different.
Baku's mind spirals into pure fantasy, his hands trembling as he imagines his thick cock sandwiched between your soft, plush thighs. He pictures himself grinding slowly, his dick sliding up and down against your warm skin, hearing your moans as he humps between them.
He bites his lip hard, picturing pulling you onto his lap, spreading your thighs wider. His cock would fit just right—nestled in that perfect crease where your inner thigh meets your core. The mental image of you bouncing on him, your thighs squeezing him as you ride, makes precum leak into his pants.
Baku shakes his head violently, trying to dislodge the explicit fantasy from his mind. "Fuck, fuck, fuck.” he mutters, reaching for his phone with a shaky hand. He decides to talk to gotak. He has nothing better to do he thought.
That was the beginning of his obsession with your thighs.
It started small.
His eyes lingering a little too long whenever you wore shorts. Sitting suspiciously close to you on the couch. Resting his hand on your thigh absentmindedly while talking before realizing what he was doing and immediately panicking.
But eventually, he got comfortable.
Too comfortable.
Now he was sprawled across your bed like he owned the place while you ranted about school from across the room. Your bedroom had become one of his favorite places over time. When he first started coming over, he barely touched anything, terrified he’d break one of your little trinkets or decorations.
Now?
Now he practically lived there.
You kept talking while walking toward the bed before finally sitting beside him. Without thinking much of it, you spread your legs slightly to get comfortable.
And Baku noticed immediately.
His attention drifted from your face… down to your thighs again.
His brain shut off instantly.
Baku shifts uncomfortably, trying to hide the growing bulge in his pants as you sit there with your legs spread, completely oblivious to the effect you're having on him. You giggle, noticing his discomfort and intentionally spread your legs even wider, pretending to stretch.
“You okay, Baku?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.
He nodded immediately.
Too quickly.
“Yeah.”
His voice sounded strained.
He still refused to look directly at you, eyes fixed somewhere near your blanket instead. The tips of his ears were bright red now, and you couldn’t help but narrow your eyes suspiciously.
“…You sure?”
“Mhm.”
Liar.
You stared at him for a few seconds before following his line of sight downward.
Then you realized.
“Oh my god,” you laughed quietly. “Are you staring at my thighs?”
Baku froze.
Actually froze.
His entire body locked up as his face somehow turned even redder than before.
“N-no!” he blurted out instantly.
The denial came out way too fast to be believable.
You raised an eyebrow.
“…Baku.”
“I wasn’t—I mean—I kinda was but not in a weird way!” he panicked, finally covering his face with one hand while groaning into his palm. “Fuck, now I sound creepy.”
You burst into laughter at how genuinely distressed he looked.
Meanwhile, Baku looked like he wanted your bed to swallow him whole.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled from behind his hand. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
The embarrassment in his voice was almost painful.
You pat your spread thighs, inviting him to lie down. Without realizing it, you're creating the perfect setup for his earlier fantasy. Baku swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest as he slowly lies down on your thighs, his face buried against your soft belly.
“Baku.”
Slowly, he peeked at you.
“You know you’re allowed to look at your girlfriend, right?”
That did not help him at all.
His brain practically short-circuited.
“You can’t just say stuff like that,” he muttered weakly. “You’re trying to kill me.”
You laughed again before glancing down at him.
Even now, despite acting dramatic, one of his large hands had absentmindedly drifted toward your thigh like it naturally belonged there.
The second he realized it, he panicked and tried pulling it away.
Only for you to grab his wrist first and place it right back.
Pairing: Kim Gun-woo x Pregnant! Reader
Word count: 4.3k
Summary: you get kidnapped (almost).
you get your hair pulled (rude).
you accidentally reveal you’re pregnant (worse).
Warnings: home invasion, mentions of pregnancy, physical violence
a/n: i just finished season 2 of Bloodhounds and i’m sorry i just can’t stop picturing dad!gun-woo 😭
ALSO season 2 dropped and y’all are still not writing about the boys??? fine. i’ll do it myself.
─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────
The apartment was quiet that night, too quiet, in the way that made the absence of sound feel like something pressing against your ears instead of something peaceful. You had been sitting on the couch, one hand absentmindedly resting over your stomach, thumb tracing the same small, unconscious pattern over fabric, over skin, over something that still didn’t feel entirely real even a month later.
Pregnant.
Even now, the word didn’t land cleanly. It didn’t settle the way it should have, didn’t root itself into certainty. It hovered instead, fragile and suspended between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.
Across the room, Kim Gun-woo was watching you.
He had gotten quieter since you found out, more deliberate in everything he did, from the way he moved through the apartment to the way he looked at you. He was constantly recalibrating his understanding of the world to account for something new and impossibly important.
“You’re doing it again,” he said after a moment, his voice low but steady, pulling you gently out of your thoughts.
You blinked, looking up at him. “Doing what?”
He nodded toward your hand.
Only then did you realize you were still tracing that same pattern over your stomach, your touch absent but protective in a way that had become instinctive without you noticing.
You pulled your hand back slightly, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t even notice.”
Gun-woo didn’t smile. He rarely did lately, not fully.
Instead, he stood and crossed the room in a few quiet steps, sitting beside you. For a moment, he didn’t move, like he was waiting, for permission, maybe, or for the right way to exist in this new space between you.
Then, slowly, he reached out towards your belly.
His hand hovered first, the same way it had that first day, like he was still learning where it was safe to touch. You took his wrist and guided him down again.
He exhaled softly when his palm rested against you, his fingers spreading just slightly, careful, grounding. There was still nothing to feel. No movement. No sign that anything had changed beyond the knowledge itself.
And yet, everything had.
“We should leave,” he said suddenly, his voice quieter now, more controlled.
You frowned, looking up at him. “Leave?”
“For a while.” His gaze didn’t leave your face. “Until this is over.”
You already knew what he meant.
Im Baek Jeon.
The name didn’t need to be spoken anymore. It existed between all of you, heavy and unavoidable, shaping decisions before they were even fully formed.
“You don’t think he’ll find us anyway?” you asked.
Gun-woo’s jaw tightened slightly. “Not if we move first.”
From the kitchen, Woo-jin let out a quiet scoff, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. “You say that like we haven’t been trying to stay off his radar this whole time.”
Gun-woo didn’t look at him. “This is different.”
“Yeah,” Woo-jin said, his tone losing its edge as quickly as it had come. “I know.”
Silence settled over the three of you again, heavier than before. Because it was different.
A month ago, the threat had been personal, dangerous, yes, but contained within the boundaries of choices Gun-woo could make, risks he could take, consequences he could accept for himself.
Now, it wasn’t just him. And that changed everything.
“We can’t run forever,” you said quietly.
Gun-woo’s hand tightened just slightly where it rested over yours, his thumb brushing your skin lightly. “We don’t have to. Just long enough.”
You could see in his pleading eyes that he was desperately just trying to keep all of you safe, in any way he could.
“Can we talk about this in the morning?” you questioned, not having the mental energy to think about it right now. You just wanted to enjoy the feeling of Gun-woo’s hand against your belly and pretend you were just a normal, young and anxious couple like any other.
“Sure”, he agreed, sensing the tiredness in your voice. You kissed him softly on the cheek as a silent thank you.
____
By the time night settled in, the tension hadn’t eased. It rarely did anymore.
You had gotten used to it in small ways. The way doors were always double-checked before bed, the way Woo-jin insisted on keeping his phone within arm’s reach at all times, the way Gun-woo would pause sometimes in the middle of a conversation, his head tilting ever so slightly as if he were listening to something no one else could hear.
It had become routine.
You lay in bed beside him, the room dim, the soft hum of the city outside filtering faintly through the windows. His presence next to you was steady, solid, a constant in a world that felt like it was shifting too quickly beneath your feet.
For a while, neither of you spoke.
Your hand rested between you, your fingers loosely intertwined with his, your thumb brushing lightly against his knuckles in a rhythm that was more for you than for him.
“Are you awake?” you murmured after a while.
There was a slight shift beside you.
“Yeah.”
You turned your head slightly, looking at him even though you knew he didn’t need the light to see you.
“…Do you think they’ll try something soon?”
The question hung in the air, heavier than you intended.
Gun-woo didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was calm.
“Yes.”
Your chest tightened, but you nodded anyway, even though he couldn’t see it.
“Okay.”
His grip on your hand tightened slightly, just enough for you to feel it.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said quietly.
You shifted closer, resting your forehead lightly against his shoulder. “I know.”
“Try to sleep”, he whispered, while softly kissing your hair. “Baby needs you to rest”.
With his warm hands holding yours, you closed your eyes and tried to relax despite the anxiety that insisted to grow in your heart.
----
It happened at 2:17 a.m.
You didn’t know the exact time until later, when everything was already over and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking long enough for you to look away from the clock on the wall.
At the time, all you knew was that something felt wrong.
It wasn’t a sound, not at first. It was the absence of one, the subtle disruption of something that should have been there and wasn’t anymore. The faint hum of the security system, the almost imperceptible white noise you had gotten used to without realizing it.
Your eyes opened slowly, your body still heavy with sleep but your mind already sharpening, pulling you toward awareness before you could fully understand why.
Beside you, Gun-woo stilled.
You felt it immediately, the shift in his breathing, the way his body went from relaxed to coiled in an instant, every muscle tightening with sudden, controlled alertness.
“…Did you hear that?” you whispered.
“Yes.”
He was already moving before you could say anything else, carefully disentangling his hand from yours as he sat up, his movements silent, precise. The room felt colder without him next to you, the space he left behind too noticeable.
“What is it?” you asked, your voice barely above a breath.
He didn’t answer right away because he was listening.
You could see it in the way his head tilted slightly, his focus narrowing on something beyond the walls of the room, beyond what you could perceive. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until-
You heard a faint sound. A floorboard. Not in your room, but outside.
Gun-woo stood.
“Stay here”, he said quietly.
Your chest tightened immediately. “Gun-woo—”
“Stay here”, he repeated, this time giving you a clear order. “I’m going to wake Woo-jin up.”
You swallowed, nodding even though he wasn’t looking at you anymore, already moving toward the door.
Seconds after, a crash echoed through the house. Something was knocked over, a chair, or maybe a table, followed by multiple footsteps.
Your body moved before your mind could catch up, your feet hitting the floor as you stood, your heart slamming against your ribs hard enough to make it difficult to breathe.
You shouldn’t leave the room, you knew that, but every instinct in your body screamed at you not to be alone. You stepped toward the door just as it burst open.
You didn’t have time to process anything beyond that, just the shape of him, the movement, the hand reaching for you.
Your body twisted sharply as he lunged forward, your hand coming up to shove against his chest with more force than you thought you had. He stumbled back half a step, surprised, but it wasn’t enough.
A hand tangles in your hair, so tight it yanks your head back with a force that tears a scream straight from your throat before you can stop it.
Pain blooms sharp and immediate, blinding in its intensity, your hands flying up instinctively to grab at the wrist holding you, trying to pry it loose.
“Let go—! Let go of me!”
Your voice cracks, panic rising fast and uncontrollable as you’re dragged forward, your balance completely thrown off. Your feet scramble against the floor, slipping, catching, failing to ground you as he pulls harder, forcing you toward the door.
“Move,” he snaps, jerking your head back again.
Another scream rips out of you, raw and uncontrolled this time, your fingers clawing at his hand, your body twisting in desperate resistance.
“Please—!” The word breaks out of you before you can stop it, survival instinct overriding everything else. “Please don’t—don’t hurt me—!”
Your hands drop from his wrist, instinctively, curling inward over your stomach as your body folds slightly around it, your movements shifting without thought, driven by something deeper than panic.
“Please—” your voice cracks again, softer now, desperate in a different way. “Please, I—”
The man holding you pauses.
His grip doesn’t loosen, but his attention shifts, his gaze dropping, following the movement of your hands.
“…Wait.”
The word cuts through everything and the others hesitate.
“What?” one of them snaps.
“Look at her.”
Your breath stutters.
No. No, no, no—
“She’s protecting her stomach.”
Your fingers tighten instinctively where they rest, your entire body going still as the realization settles in the air between all of you.
“…You’re pregnant,” he says slowly.
It isn’t a question.
Your chest tightens so sharply it almost hurts, your breath coming in short, uneven bursts as you shake your head instinctively, denial rising even though you know it’s useless.
“No—no, I—”
The lie dies before it can fully form.
A low laugh escapes him, quiet and almost disbelieving. “Well, Baek-jeon will love the news”.
Your heart drops.
“Please,” you try again, your voice trembling, desperation clawing its way through every word. “Please, don’t—”
“Shut up.”
His grip tightens in your hair, forcing your head back again, and pain explodes across your scalp, your vision blurring as another cry tears out of you.
“Gun-woo!” you scream, the name ripping from your chest before you can stop it, raw and desperate while the man in black tries to drag you down the stairs.
Suddenly, the man holding you is gone in an instant, his grip ripped away so violently it sends you stumbling forward, your knees nearly buckling as you catch yourself against the edge of the first step.
A sickening crack echoes through the room as Gun-woo’s fist connects with the man’s face, the force of it sending him crashing to the ground hard enough that the entire floor seems to shake with it.
“Get away from her,” Gun-woo says, his voice low and unrecognizable, each word punctuated by another hit.
Across the room, Woo-jin is already engaged with the others, his movements fast and aggressive, a curse spilling from his mouth as he blocks a strike and retaliates immediately.
“Bad move,” he snaps, slamming one of them back against the wall.
The room is chaos. But Gun-woo… Gun-woo is something else entirely.
The second man tries to move toward you again, maybe thinking Gun-woo is too focused on the one beneath him to react.
He’s wrong.
Gun-woo shifts instantly, abandoning the first without a second thought, intercepting the movement mid-step. His fist connects with the man’s jaw with brutal precision, snapping his head back before he even has time to react.
He follows through without pause, grabbing him by the collar and driving him into the wall hard enough to rattle everything hanging on it.
“She’s pregnant”, the man says quietly, flashing a sick bloody smile.
“Say it again,” Gun-woo demands, his voice deadly quiet now, his grip tightening.
“She’s pregnant, right?”
There’s no hesitation this time. No restraint. He slams him back again, harder, his fist connecting with a force that leaves no room for recovery, no chance to fight back.
The third man—still struggling against Woo-jin—lets out a breathless laugh despite the situation. “You think this helps?” he spits. “You think beating us changes anything?”
Woo-jin shoves him back hard, knocking the wind out of him. “Shut up.”
But the damage is already done, because the man keeps talking.
“You couldn’t even keep us out,” he continues, his voice strained but mocking. “What happens next time, huh? You gonna watch when we take her for real?”
“To keep her safe,” the man adds, pushing through the pain, “you know what you have to do.”
Gun-woo stills. But that’s all it takes for the words to sink in.
Without hesitation, Woo-jin strikes the man’s face with a punch so strong he passes out instantly.
“Shut up, asshole”.
But it’s too late. Because now, they know.
And worse—
They’ve given Gun-woo a choice.
----
For a moment after the last blow lands, there is no sound.
The kind of silence that follows violence isn’t empty. It’s thick, ringing, filled with the echo of what just happened. Your ears buzz, your breath comes too fast, too uneven, and the room feels like it’s tilting slightly under your feet.
One of the men groans.
Another coughs, dragging in a broken breath as he tries to push himself up from the floor. They don’t fight anymore. They can’t. Whatever confidence they had when they broke in is gone now.
“Get out,” Woo-jin snaps, his voice sharp, still edged with adrenaline. He doesn’t even wait for them to respond before stepping forward, grabbing one of them by the collar and hauling him roughly toward the door.
Gun-woo doesn’t help. He doesn’t need to. The look in his eyes is enough.
The men see it too. You can tell by the way they don’t argue, don’t try to say anything else clever or threatening as they drag themselves toward the exit. One of them glances back once and whatever he sees in Gun-woo’s expression makes him look away immediately.
They retreat the way wounded animals do, slow, uneven, desperate to put distance between themselves and the threat that nearly tore them apart.
The front door hangs open, broken at the frame, creaking faintly as it shifts on its hinges. Cold air spills into the apartment, brushing against your skin in a way that makes you shiver, though you don’t feel cold.
You don’t feel much of anything and your knees give out before you realize they’re going to. You don’t even remember moving from where you were standing, just the sudden absence of strength in your legs as you sink down, your hands catching you clumsily against the floor.
The world feels far away, muted and your hands are shaking.
You notice that first. The tremor is small at the beginning, barely noticeable, but it grows quickly, spreading through your arms, into your chest, until your entire body feels like it’s vibrating under your skin.
A sob escapes you before you can stop it.
“Hey—hey—”
Woo-jin’s voice cuts through the haze first, closer than you expect. He crouches in front of you quickly, his movements urgent but careful, like he’s afraid of startling you further.
“You’re okay,” he says, though his own breathing is still uneven. “You’re okay, it’s over.”
Behind him, Gun-woo hasn’t moved.
His chest rising and falling too fast, his hands still clenched at his sides like he hasn’t fully come back yet. There’s blood on his knuckles, some of it his, most of it not, and his entire body is rigid, like the fight hasn’t actually ended for him.
Woo-jin glances back at him, just for a second.
“…Gun-woo.”
No response.
He tries again, sharper this time. “Hey.”
Gun-woo’s gaze shifts, slow and heavy, landing on you where you’re sitting on the floor, shaking, your hands still hovering uncertainly near your stomach like you don’t know where else to put them.
He moves slowly at first, like his body is resisting the transition from one state to another, from violence to something softer, something human again. Each step is deliberate, measured, like he’s forcing himself to calm down with every inch he closes between you.
He lowers himself in front of you, mirroring Woo-jin’s earlier position, but closer, closer than anyone else is allowed to be. His hands lift slowly, hesitating for only a second before settling carefully on both sides of your face.
“…Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice low and rough.
You shake your head, though the movement is small, unsteady. “N-no…”
“I’m sorry,” he says, the words coming out before he can stop them.
Your head snaps up slightly, your eyes finally focusing on him. “What?”
“I should’ve-” His jaw tightens, the rest of the sentence catching somewhere in his throat. “I should’ve stopped them before they got to you.”
You shake your head quickly, the movement more desperate this time. “You did, Gun-woo, you did-”
“They were inside,” he cuts in, his voice sharper now, edged with something that hasn’t fully settled. “They had you-”
Woo-jin exhales heavily from beside you, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, we’re not doing this right now.”
He shifts closer, one hand coming down gently on your shoulder, grounding, steady, while his other reaches out to shove lightly at Gun-woo’s arm, just enough to get his attention.
“Hey,” he says, more firmly now. “Look at me.”
Gun-woo doesn’t want to, but after a second, he does.
“This isn’t on you,” Woo-jin continues, his tone steady despite the adrenaline still lingering beneath it. “They broke in. That’s on them.”
“They came because of me.”
“Yeah,” Woo-jin says bluntly. “And they left because of you too.”
That lands. Not fully, but enough to make Gun-woo exhale and drop some of the guilt he has holding all on his own.
Woo-jin squeezes your shoulder lightly, his voice softening as he looks back at you. “And you—breathe, okay? You’re safe. We’re here.”
You nod weakly, and squeeze his hand, your way of saying a silent thank you for saying the words you and Gun-woo needed so bad to hear right now.
Gun-woo’s hand shifts slightly where it rests on your arm, his thumb brushing once, grounding both of you.
“…They know,” he says quietly.
The words settle heavily in the room. Woo-jin exhales again, slower this time. “Yeah.”
You swallow, your throat still tight, your voice small when you finally speak. “…What does that mean?”
Gun-woo doesn’t answer right away and that’s worse than anything he could say. The silence is filled with everything he’s thinking, considering and Woo-jin notices it too.
“Hey,” he says quickly, sharper now, his tone shifting in warning. “Don’t go there.”
Gun-woo’s gaze flicks to him.
“I’m serious,” Woo-jin adds, holding it. “We figure this out. Together.”
For a while, no one moves.
The apartment feels wrong now, too open, too exposed, like the walls themselves can’t protect you anymore. The broken door lets in a slow draft of cold air that brushes against your skin, but you still barely register it. Everything still feels distant, like your body hasn’t fully caught up to what just happened.
Gun-woo is the first to pull away.
The movement is abrupt compared to how careful he had been with you moments ago, like something inside him has shifted again—snapped back into urgency, into action.
“We can’t stay here.”
Woo-jin exhales sharply through his nose, nodding immediately. “Yeah, we need to go.”
----
The place Woo-jin finds isn’t home.
You can tell the second you step inside. It’s clean, functional, temporary in a way that makes everything echo just a little too much. The furniture is sparse, the walls bare, the air carrying that faint, unfamiliar stillness of somewhere that hasn’t been lived in long enough to feel safe.
But the door locks. Twice. And the windows are intact so for now, that was enough.
Woo-jin checks everything first. Every room, every window latch, every blind, every possible entry point. He moves with purpose, still riding the edge of adrenaline, but more controlled now, more focused.
“Clear,” he finally says, exhaling as he steps back into the main room.
Gun-woo doesn’t respond right away. He hasn’t let go of you since you arrived.
His hand is still wrapped around yours, firm and grounding, like if he loosens his grip even slightly, something might take you again. His other hand rests at your back, guiding you gently further inside, his body positioning itself instinctively between you and the door even after it’s locked.
“Sit,” he murmurs.
Your body still feels like it’s catching up to everything that happened, your limbs heavy, your thoughts slower than they should be.
The couch is firmer than the one back home. You notice that.
Gun-woo kneels in front of you almost immediately, his gaze moving over you again, searching in that same careful, quiet way. It’s less frantic now, but no less intense, like he still expects to find something wrong if he looks hard enough.
“I’m okay,” you say softly, before he can ask.
He nods, but he doesn’t stop looking.
Woo-jin disappears into another room for a moment, the sound of drawers opening and closing faint in the background, giving you space without saying it out loud.
Silence settles between you and Gun-woo.
Your hand shifts in his, your fingers tightening slightly as you watch him, taking in the tension that hasn’t left his shoulders, the way his jaw is still set like he hasn’t fully come down from the edge yet and the fact that his knuckles still have dried blood on them.
“You need to rest,” you murmur.
His eyes flick up to yours. “I’m fine. I’ll rest later,” he says.
You know better than to argue right now.
Woo-jin comes back eventually, setting a glass of water on the table in front of you, his movements calmer now, more grounded.
“Drink,” he says gently.
You nod, taking it, your hands steadier now than they were before.
He lingers for a second, watching both of you, then exhales and drops into the chair across from you.
“We’ll stay here a couple days,” he says, more to Gun-woo than to you. “Figure out next steps after.”
Gun-woo nods once.
It’s enough. For now, that’s all any of you can manage.
----
After forcing the boys to take a shower, you and Gun-woo climb into bed. The sun will rise in a couple hours.
You lie in a bed that isn’t yours, staring up at a ceiling you don’t recognize, the faint hum of the building replacing the familiar sounds you used to rely on. Your body is exhausted, your mind heavier than it should be, but sleep doesn’t come right away.
Beside you, Gun-woo hasn’t moved.
He’s been like this for a while now, awake, even in the dark, even when he pretends otherwise.
“Are you going to sleep?” you whisper.
“In a bit.”
You turn slightly toward him, studying the outline of his face in the dim light, the tension still there, quieter now but not gone.
“You said that an hour ago.”
You shift closer instead, closing the space between you, your hand finding his under the blanket. His fingers curl around yours immediately, like he’s been waiting for it without realizing.
You guide his hand again slowly down to rest it over your stomach.
You feel him shift closer, his shoulder pressing more firmly against yours as his head dips forward, resting lightly against you. His hand stays where it is, warm, steady, careful.
“…I’m going to fix this,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that it barely disturbs the silence, but close enough that you feel it more than hear it, the vibration of it settling somewhere deep in your chest.
“I will,” he continues, softer now, but steadier in a way that feels less like certainty and more like something he’s forcing himself to believe, something he needs to hold onto so he doesn’t break under the weight of everything else. “Before–”
Then his fingers spread just a little, his palm settling more intentionally against you, and when he speaks again, his voice shifts closer, like it isn’t meant for you anymore.
“…before you’re here.”
“I know you can’t hear me yet,” he continues, his voice dropping even further, softer than you’ve ever heard it, stripped of everything sharp or guarded, “but I’m your dad.”
Your eyes sting suddenly, the feeling creeping in without warning as you listen.
“And I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice rougher now. “For tonight. For everything you don’t understand yet.”
Your chest tightens, your hand instinctively covering his where it rests, grounding him without interrupting.
“I’m supposed to make sure nothing touches you,” he continues, quieter still, like he’s afraid of breaking something fragile. “That nothing gets close enough to hurt you. Or your mom.”
Your vision blurs further, your eyes fully glassy now, tears gathering without falling, held back only by the fragile stillness of the moment. You bite down softly on the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your breathing even, trying not to let it break.
“I’m still figuring out how to do that.”
“But I will,” he murmurs, more firmly now, even if his voice stays soft, the resolve settling into something quieter but stronger. “I’ll figure it out.”
And in the quiet that follows, with your eyes still damp and your chest still tight, something shifts again into something softer, something that feels like the beginning of hope.
And when sleep finally comes, slow and gentle and long overdue–it finds you like that.
Together.
─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────
pls leave a comment or scream with me about dad!gun-woo i need it ❤️
SUM. you and hyuntak have been keeping your relationship a secret for fun, secretly dating for fun, sneaking kisses and moments alone for fun. until the boys finally catch you and three strikes, your not-so-hidden relationship is out.
(WHC MLST) . go hyuntak x fem!reader · includes: yeon sieun, ahn suho, seo juntae, park humin · all fluffy, lots of kissing, sort of b-day fic
your relationship with gotak was a secret. it wasn’t about keeping it a secret because you had to. hyuntak made that clear the first night he kissed you in the furthest hallway after practice. his words breathless and a little shaky as his hands cupped your cheeks so softly. you almost melted right then and there.
“i’m not hiding you,” he’d whispered against your mouth. “i just wanna keep this for us for a little while, y’know?”
and it just stuck.
so now, here you were, sitting on his living room floor on his birthday, your back resting against the couch. there was a half-eaten bag of chips next to you and a bunch of voices overlapping in the background. the whole group’s gathered around, laughing over some dumb show playing on the tv.
baku’s teasing juntae about losing in a game. suho’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, talking to sieun. you’re probably the only one actually watching the show. and hyuntak?
hyuntak was two couch cushions away from you, legs stretched out, hoodie sleeves half covering his hands. and he keeps looking at you.
not obviously. just flickers of eye contact across the room, glances that were supposed to not last too long. the kind that make your heart race because you know what those eyes looked like last night, when he pulled you into his lap and kissed you like he hadn’t seen you in a year. in reality, it was only four hours apart.
you catch him looking again.
he lifts the neck of his hoodie to cover his smile like he’s scratching his cheek, then quickly turns back to listen to whatever suho’s saying.
your cheeks burn, and your stomach flips in the best way.
fifteen minutes later, you slip out to the kitchen under the excuse of ‘grabbing more snacks.’ gotak follows around three minutes after, completely casual and normal. but as soon as the wall hides you from view, he’s pressing close.
his arms wrap around your waist from behind, his nose brushing softly into the crook of your neck. “hey,” he murmurs, voice low and sweet.
“hey yourself, birthday boy.” you lean back into him, biting your bottom lip in a smile. “took you long enough.”
“someone had to not make it obvious,” he teases, lips brushing your ear. “baku’s already suspicious.”
you turn in his arms, your hands resting lazily over his shoulders, eyes catching his under the dim kitchen light. “let him be.”
he kisses you. so soft, and warm, and drawn out. like he’s been craving it since you sat down earlier, and now that he has you alone, he doesn’t want to let go.
his hands slide up your back slowly, fingertips pressing into you through your shirt. your fingers tug gently on the ends of his hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.
it’s not sexual. not heated. just the kind of kiss that says i missed you. or i just i need you close. he presses you back against the counter, lips still dancing with yours as his thumbs rub over your hips. then you hear footsteps.
gotak pulls back with a smirk, his breathing a little unsteady. “showtime,” he says under his breath, leaving your cheek with one last kiss before pulling away completely.
you reappear in the living room first, new bag of chips in hand. gotak follows a moment later with a soda, yawning like he totally wasn’t just making out in the kitchen with his girlfriend.
gotak plops down on the floor again, this time closer to you. just close enough that your knees brush under the blanket thrown across the floor earlier. and when your fingers sneak under the edge of the blanket to hook around his pinky, he squeezes yours with his once. a silent i love you.
you don’t have to say it out loud yet. you’ve got time.
strike one:
you and hyuntak were just going to ‘check the laundry.’ which is a terrible excuse. neither of you had clothes in the wash. nor anything you’d need to get from the room alone. but the others were too busy fighting over who got to pick the next movie to question it.
and now you’re in the tiny laundry room, secluded from everyone else, pressed up against the dryer. hyuntak’s hands on your waist and his lips on yours. “five minutes,” you whisper between kisses, breathless and smiling. “you promised.”
“i lied,” he mumbles against your mouth, one hand slipping under the hem of your shirt. “sorry not sorry.”
you laugh quietly, fingers trailing up over his shoulders, tugging him closer. he kisses your cheek, then your jaw.
“you’re all warm and soft and look at me like you want to sneak around with me.”
“i do,” you admit, giggling.
and he grins like you just made his entire week. you’re halfway into a hotter kiss when the door handle rattles. you both freeze.
“is this the laundry room?” juntae’s voice calls from the other side. “baku spilled beer on me.”
hyuntak’s eyes widen. he silently mouths “shit”, then scrambles, unnecessarily quickly, backing away from you, and fixing his hoodie. you hop up onto the dryer, grabbing a random sock pile and pretending to sort them like you had been there the whole time. the door opens and juntae pokes his head in. he blinks at you, then at hyuntak.
“…you guys doing laundry?”
“yeah,” you say too fast. “super important laundry business.”
hyuntak nods. “definitely not kissing or anything.”
juntae raises an eyebrow. “what?”
“what?” you both repeat at the same time.
“oh, well, do you mind washing my shirt then? i can’t go home tomorrow smelling like beer,” he asks, handing you his shirt as you take it with a smile. the second the door shuts, you both burst into quiet, breathless laughter.
“definitely not kissing or anything?” you tease, hiding your face in your hands.
hyuntak groans, dragging his own hand down his face. “i panicked.”
you’re still giggling when he steps between your legs, hands resting at your hips again. this time, no kiss. he’s just leaning his forehead against yours, noses brushing with love.
“we’re gonna get caught one day,” he says, voice warm and full of affection.
“probably,” you say. “but not today.”
he smiles. “not today.”
strike two:
it’s past midnight when the house finally settles. the laughter fades out to silence. sleeping bodies on the floor. the tv now off.
you’re curled up under the blanket on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone while waiting for the right time to sneak away. hyuntak slipped away ten minutes ago, texting you: come to my room in a bit. don’t be obvious.
which, is pretty hard when you have to carefully step around everyone else that’s sprawled around. but you wait. you’re good. and when baku starts snoring, you silently slip off the couch and pad quietly down the hallway to hyuntak’s room.
his bedroom door creaks open just as you knock. knowing him, he was probably waiting and listening with his ear pressed against the door.
“you took forever,” he whispers, pulling you inside and closing it behind you.
“i didn’t want to almost get caught again,” you whisper back, smiling.
he grins. “strike two, then.”
his room is dark except for the faint glow from a lamp on his desk. it casts a warm, golden hue over the room, softening everything and making it more cozy, including him. he’s in sweats and a loose black tee, hair a little tousled from lying down, eyes sleepy but happy the second you step close.
you don’t even speak again. you just fall into each other like magnets. his arms wrapping around your waist instinctively, your face burying into his shoulder, both of you exhaling like this is the only place you’ve wanted to be all day.
“i missed you,” you whisper.
“we were together all night.”
“still missed you.”
he chuckles, pulling you gently toward his bed.
you crawl under the blanket together, limbs tangled, your back to his chest as he drapes his arm over your waist. everything is warm. still and quiet. his nose brushes the back of your neck, and then presses the softest kiss to your skin. “how is this even better when we’re sneaking?”
“probably ‘cause it feels like we’re not supposed to,” you mumble, lacing your fingers with his under the blanket. “makes it feel more…intimate.”
“yeah,” he says quietly. “intimate.”
you stay like that for a while, just breathing together. his hand rests low on your stomach, fingers curled gently against you. you can feel his heartbeat slow and comforting against your back. then he kisses your shoulder again. then your neck. then your jaw.
“hyuntak,” you whisper, half-laughing.
“what?” he murmurs, voice all sleepy mischief. “can’t help it.”
you turn to face him, his face inches from yours. you cup his cheek and kiss him softly. sweet and slow, no rush, just love. his hand slides up your side, warm under your shirt, but he doesn’t push. doesn’t try for more. he just kisses you like you’re the secret he wanted to keep only to himself forever. that’s how you guys liked it.
when you finally pull back, he whispers, “if this is strike two, what’s strike three?” he asks. “getting caught for real?”
“worth it.” you smile. “but not by your parents, though.” your eyes widened.
“won’t be home until noon tomorrow. you think i’d risk this?”
you laugh again, quieter now, and tuck yourself closer. his arm tightens around you. and before sleep takes you both, you hear him murmur one last thing into your hair.
“you’re my favorite part of the day.”
the next morning, the house is loud, baku per usual.
someone turned on music. someone’s (attempting) to cook eggs in the kitchen. sieun’s fussing at suho for using his toothbrush.
you and hyuntak make the mistake of thinking you were in the clear. you didn’t sleep in the same room last night. you snuck back to the couch just before sunrise, yawning and still wrapped in the scent of him. everything seemed perfect.
until you find yourself alone in the hallway with him again. “we’re really pushing it,” you whisper, looking up at him as he leans against the wall near the bathroom.
“we’ve been pushing it,” hyuntak grins, tugging lightly at your sleeve. “you can’t seriously expect me to go a whole morning without kissing you. that’s ridiculous.”
you bite back your smile. “i do expect that, actually.”
he leans in anyway. “please. just one,” he murmurs, already brushing his nose against yours. “real quick. no one’s gonna—”
the door to the hallway bathroom swings open.
suho and sieun.
you don’t even have time to pull apart. hyuntak’s hand is still on your waist, your face still tilted toward his, clearly about to kiss. if not, then pulling away from one.
and it’s silent for all of three seconds. “oh my god!” juntae drops his shirt, coming from the laundry room.
“called it,” baku shouts from the other end of the hall by the kitchen.
suho claps slowly. “wow. we weren’t even trying to catch you and still did.”
hyuntak immediately steps back, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s a child that’s been caught red-handed sneaking cookies. “okay, okay, it’s not what it looks like.”
“tak,” you say flatly. “it’s exactly what it looks like.”
he winces. “yeah. okay. it is.”
“so…” baku leans in, eyes wide with excitement. “how long?”
hyuntak looks at you. you shrug, grinning. “just for a little bit.”
“define a little bit,” sieun deadpans.
“since january,” hyuntak mutters under his breath.
“january?!” juntae shrieks. “you guys have been sneaking around for three months and no one’s noticed?!”
you and hyuntak both start laughing. “we weren’t hiding hiding,” you say. “we just…liked it. keeping it to ourselves.”
baku grins. “i think it’s cute.”
“i think you both make a really nice couple,” juntae says.
sieun sighs, already walking away.
“i’m just glad it’s out now. no more weird tension during movie nights.” suho adds, following after sieun.
hyuntak wraps an arm around your waist, tugging you closer. “guess that’s strike three.”
you lean your head on his shoulder. “worth it.”
and once the others had scattered, some of them laughing, some fake gagging, all completely unbothered, hyuntak leans down and finally kisses you in the open. right there in the hallway. no hiding. no rush.
Genre: slow burn romance, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff
Summary: Started with an argument, both of Gotak and you never imagined to end up here.
Word count: 7k
Authors's note: Finally I wrote a fanfiction on my most beloved, favorite character of whc. Since I have been gone for a while, I tried to make it as long as possible. Also included a little bit of side couple plot with our Baku. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this.
The shift was supposed to be quiet. Since the Monday evenings on campus cafe is usually very quiet and empty, you often find yourself doing your assignments on the shift. No one came in the last one hour, so you were sitting deeply invested in your statistics homework. That was your first mistake.
The door swung open, bell ringing violently as a group of tall, loud guys poured into the cafe like they owned it. Sweat, laughter, the squeak of sneakers against tile.
Basketball team. Obviously.
You didn’t even look up as you called out, “Hello, please order at the self checkout kiosk.”
None of them acknowledged your presence or greeted you back. You rolled your eyes as they were talking loudly, laughing and hitting each other like elementary school students.
One of them leaned over the counter anyway.
“Hey, can we get...”
“No,” you said flatly. “we only take orders through the machine over here”
A pause. Then a laugh deep, rough, unmistakably amused.
You looked up.
He was big. Broad shoulders, messy hair still damp, deep blue hoodie half zipped, eyes sharp and a little too confident. He stared at you like you were interesting instead of irritating.
“Wow,” he said. “Didn’t know customer service came with attitude.”
You smiled sweetly. “Didn’t know basketball players came with short temper.”
His teammates lost it.
“Gotak she got you.”
“Bro, that was clean.”
His jaw tightened.
“What’s your problem?” he asked.
“My problem,” you replied calmly, “is six grown men yelling in my cafe.”
He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Then quit.”
You met his gaze, unflinching.
“Or you could behave like adults.”
Something sparked in his eyes, annoyance mixed with something else.
He straightened slowly, like he’d decided not to bite back yet.
“Adults, huh,” he said, clicking his tongue. “You talk a lot for someone working alone. The customers are waiting.”
You shut your notebook with a soft thud and turned, meeting him eye to eye across the counter. Up close, he was even more irritating, too tall, too broad, too aware of it.
“And you’re loud for someone who can’t read a sign,” you replied, pointing behind him. SELF CHECKOUT ONLY was printed in bold letters.
One of his teammates snorted.
“Hyung, she’s right.”
Another added, “Just use the machine, man.”
He didn’t look away from you.
“Now please go stand in line like the rest of your friends.”
A beat. Then laughter exploded behind him.
“Damn, Gotak, she’s scary.”
“Is she your girlfriend already?”
He shot them a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Silence followed instantly.
Gotak exhaled through his nose and stepped back, muttering, “Unbelievable,” as he turned toward the kiosk.
You sat back down, heart thudding harder than you wanted to admit.
Ten minutes later, the printer beeped.
You stood, grabbed the tray, and called out, “Americano. One protein bar.”
Gotak walked over, took the cup and frowned.
“…This is iced.”
You blinked. “You ordered iced.”
“I said hot.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
You stared at him. He stared back. The air tightened.
From behind him, one of his friends whispered, far too loudly,
“Hyung, you definitely clicked iced.”
Gotak’s ears went red.
You tilted your head, lips curving. “Want to apologize to the machine too?”
For a second, you thought he might actually snap. Instead, he grabbed the cup, took a long sip, then grimaced. “Whatever.”
He paused, then added, quieter, “It’s fine.”
You didn’t know why that surprised you.
As he turned to leave, one teammate lingered behind, a taller guy with a friendly grin and zero shame.
“Hey,” he said, nodding toward you. “I’m Baku. Sorry about him. He’s a bit grumpy today.”
You glanced at Gotak’s back, then back at Baku. “I noticed.”
Baku laughed. “See you around?”
“Probably,” you said.
Gotak shot Baku a look. “Move.”
They left in a rush of noise and sneakers, the bell ringing violently again.
The cafe fell quiet.
You stared at the door for a second longer than necessary, then shook your head and reopened your statistics notes.
Great, you thought.
Another campus menace.
You didn’t know yet that this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him. Not even close.
Few days passed since that evening. Your life was going normally as usual. School, part time job, home and repeat again and again.
But for last few days you barely slept.
Between rehearsing your slides in your head and triple checking your notes, your alarm felt like it went off the moment you closed your eyes. Still, you got up, showered, and dressed with the kind of care that made your stomach twist.
Black blazer. White blouse. Pressed slacks. Hair neat. Minimal makeup.
You looked… professional. Exactly the way your professor demanded.
Forty percent of your grade, you reminded yourself as you stepped out onto campus. Just get through today.
The hallway outside the lecture building was busy. People were rushing, laughing, cutting through crowds without looking.
You hugged your laptop to your chest and kept walking while repeating your speech in your head. That was your second mistake.
“Yo, pass it!”
Something collided with you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.
You stumbled back a step as a splash of cold liquid spread across your chest.
You froze. Slowly, horrifically, you looked down.
Iced coffee. Brown. Soaking into your white blouse.
“No,” you whispered.
“No, no, no”
“Oh... shit.”
That voice.
You looked up.
The rude basketball player from that night stood in front of you, eyes wide, cup still tilted in his hand like he couldn’t believe what just happened. He was laughing with his friends a second ago. Now he looked… genuinely stunned.
“Watch where you’re going!” you snapped, panic and fury crashing together.
“I was...” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “You walked right into me.”
“I was walking,” you shot back. “You were running like a child!”
One of his friends burst out laughing behind him.
“Hyung, you killed her outfit.”
Gotak shot him a glare. “Shut up.”
You pressed your laptop tighter to your chest, heat burning behind your eyes.
“This is a presentation,” you said, voice shaking despite yourself. “A formal one.”
He looked down again, really looked this time. The blazer. The blouse. The spreading stain.
His brows knit together.
“…You serious?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m serious!” you hissed. “Do you think I dress like this for fun?”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His friends shifted awkwardly, the humor draining from the situation.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said finally, lower now. “I’ll...”
“You’ll what?” you cut in. “Unspill it?”
He opened his mouth, closed it again. Ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
“I’m late,” you said, stepping past him. “Thanks. Really.”
You walked away before he could say anything else.
You locked yourself in the nearest bathroom stall and stared at the stain like it might disappear if you glared hard enough.
It didn’t. You dabbed at it with wet paper towels. It only spread.
Your phone buzzed. A text from your teammate.
"You coming? You know you have to be here 10 minutes before the presentation starts, right?"
Your throat tightened. Get it together, you told yourself.
You straightened your blazer, took a deep breath, and went to class anyway.
You were already standing at the front of the room when the door opened.
Your professor glanced up sharply. “No one should step into this classroom after me.”
“Sorry,” a familiar voice muttered. Your heart sank.
Gotak slipped into the back row, basketball jacket thrown over one shoulder. His eyes flicked up and landed on you.
Recognition hit. Then his gaze dropped to the stain. His expression changed instantly.
You didn't know at the time that Gotak followed after you to your class (while skipping his own one) to explain the incident from earlier if your professor points out your coffee stained outfit.
You turned away, face burning, and began your presentation.
Your voice was steady. Your slides were clean. You answered questions clearly.
Still, you felt it the weight of eyes, the whisper of judgment, the humiliation crawling under your skin.
When you finished, the professor nodded once. “You may sit.”
As you walked back to your seat, you risked a glance toward the back.
He was watching you. His jaw was clenched, his posture stiff, guilt written all over his face.
When class ended, you packed up quickly, determined to leave before he could say anything.
Too late.
“Hey,” he said, stepping into your path. “Wait.”
You stopped but didn’t look at him.
“I said I’m sorry,” he added, quieter now. “I really am.”
You finally met his eyes.
“Apologies don’t fix grades,” you said flatly.
Something in his expression faltered.
“…Let me make it up to you,” he said.
You laughed once, humorless. “You can’t.”
He hesitated. “At least let me try.”
You studied him for a second, really studied him.
Then you sighed.
“This isn’t over,” you said, stepping past him again.
And for the first time since you met him, he didn’t talk back. He stood there for a second after you passed him, fingers curling at his sides like he wanted to grab the words back and redo them properly.
“Hey,” he called again, not as sharp this time. “At least...”
You didn’t stop.
So he lets you go.
The rest of the day blurred together.
You replayed the presentation in your head over and over, every slide, every pause, every question you answered, trying to convince yourself the stain hadn’t mattered. Trying to believe the professor hadn’t noticed. Trying not to feel the humiliation simmering under your skin.
By the time your cafe shift rolled around that evening, exhaustion sat heavy in your bones.
Monday nights were quiet. Too quiet.
You wiped down the counter slowly, glancing at the door out of habit.
He won’t come back, you told yourself. Why would he? And why am I expecting him anyways?
The bell rang.
You closed your eyes for half a second before looking up.
Gotak stood there alone this time. No teammates. No noise. Just a navy hoodie, backpack slung over one shoulder, hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets.
He hesitated when he saw you, like he wasn’t sure if walking in had been a mistake.
“…Hey,” he said.
You straightened, professional mask snapping into place. “Self checkout’s over there.”
He winced. “Yeah. I know.”
He didn’t move right away. Instead, he cleared his throat. “I didn’t skip class to mess with you earlier.”
You paused. “That’s not comforting,” you said, flat.
“I skipped it,” he continued stubbornly, “because if your professor said something about the stain, I was gonna explain. That it was my fault.”
Your hand tightened around the cloth you were holding.
“And if he didn’t?” you asked.
“Then I’d shut up,” he replied. “Which I did.”
You finally looked at him.
His jaw was tight, eyes serious, not defensive, not annoyed. Just… sincere. Uncomfortable with it, but sincere.
“…Why?” you asked quietly.
He shrugged, then immediately scowled like he hated himself for doing it. “Because it was my fault.”
You turned away, pretending to reorganize the cups. “You already apologized.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m bad at saying things right.”
“That’s obvious.”
A corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. He walked to the kiosk, ordered, then lingered by the counter instead of waiting at a table.
“So,” he said after a moment. “Did it… go okay?”
You hesitated.
“…I think so,” you admitted. “I won’t know until grades are out.”
He nodded slowly, absorbing that. “Good.”
The printer beeped.
You slid his cup toward him without comment.
“…Thanks,” he said, then paused. “For not throwing it at me.”
You huffed a quiet laugh before you could stop yourself.
He caught it. His eyes softened just a little.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said again, gentler now. “Not today. Not like that. Just… eventually.”
You studied him over the counter. Still loud. Still annoying. Still the guy who spilled coffee on your blouse and nearly wrecked your morning.
But also the guy who followed you to class without being asked. Who stood in the back like a silent apology.
“…We’ll see,” you said.
Gotak nodded once, like he understood exactly what that meant.
He lingered by the counter, shifting his weight like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself now that the apology was out there.
Silence stretched.
“…I never said my name,” he muttered.
You glanced up briefly, noncommittal. “You don’t have to.”
“I know. Just I caught your name from the slides earlier” He scratched the back of his neck anyway. "And it's weird if only I know your name.”
You waited.
“Go Hyuntak,” he said. “Most people call me Gotak.”
The name clicked instantly, his teammates yelling it, the way it carried authority without him trying.
“Okay,” you replied. “Gotak.”
Something in his expression shifted at that. Just a quiet acknowledgment.
“…Nice to meet you,” he said, a beat late, like the words didn’t come naturally.
You raised an eyebrow. “We’ve met twice already.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Didn’t go great.”
A small pause.
“I play basketball,” he added, gesturing vaguely to himself. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”
You snorted despite yourself. “I gathered.”
He exhaled, relieved, and picked up his cup. “I won’t bother you tonight.”
“That would be great,” you said lightly.
He huffed a laugh short, surprised and headed toward the door. Before leaving, he stopped and looked back.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, quieter now, “you didn’t deserve that this morning.”
Then he left, the bell chiming softly behind him.
You stood there for a moment longer than necessary, fingers resting against the counter.
Go Hyuntak.
Great, you thought. Now he has a name. And somehow, that made everything more complicated.
The bell rang again the next evening.
You didn’t look up right away.
“Hello. Self checkout’s over there,” you said out of habit, eyes still on the register screen.
“…Yeah. I know.”
You paused.
That voice again. You looked up.
Gotak stood just inside the cafe, alone, hoodie zipped up this time, backpack hanging off one shoulder. He wasn’t loud or grinning. Wasn’t surrounded by chaos.
He looked awkward yet excited.
“Oh,” you said. “You.”
He nodded once. “Me.”
A beat passed.
Then he turned and walked straight to the kiosk, tapping the screen with far more focus than necessary. You watched from behind the counter as he frowned at the options like they’d personally offended him.
The printer beeped.
You tore off the receipt. “Americano. Iced.”
He glanced over. “I didn’t...”
“You did,” you cut in calmly.
He sighed. “Figures.”
When you slid the cup across the counter, his fingers brushed the lid by accident. He pulled his hand back immediately, like he’d touched something hot.
“…Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” you replied, neutral.
He didn’t leave.
Instead, he hovered near the counter, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You wiped down the surface slowly, waiting him out.
“So,” he said eventually. “You always work on Mondays and Tuesdays?”
“Usually.”
He nodded, filing that away. “Makes sense. It’s quiet.”
“It is,” you agreed. “Until it isn’t.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. Before either of you could say more, the door flew open.
Noise flooded in. Sneakers, laughter and familiar voices.
“Oh! There she is!”
Baku spotted you instantly, grinning like he’d just found something shiny. “Yo! Cafe boss!”
You blinked. “Hi?”
Gotak closed his eyes. “I told you idiots to wait.”
“Relax,” Baku said, already leaning on the counter. “We’re just grabbing drinks.”
Another teammate nudged Gotak. “Hyung, is this the scary girl you told us about?”
“I didn’t say scary,” Gotak snapped.
“You implied it,” Baku said cheerfully.
You raised an eyebrow. “I’m standing right here.”
Baku beamed. “See? Terrifying.”
Gotak groaned and turned away, rubbing his face. “Order and leave.”
They didn’t. Instead, they crowded around the kiosk, arguing loudly about protein shakes and caffeine limits, completely ignoring the line they were creating out of thin air.
“Guys,” you said evenly. “One at a time.”
Baku glanced at Gotak, impressed. “Wow. She’s got authority.”
Gotak muttered, “Told you.”
The orders went out. The team filtered toward a table near the window, still loud but at least seated.
Gotak lingered again.
“I should go,” he said. “Before they get worse.”
“Good call.”
He hesitated, then added, “See you.”
Not tomorrow or later. Just see you.
You nodded once.
“Yeah.”
The next day, you nearly ran into him in the hallway. Literally. You both stopped short at the same time.
“Oh sorry,” you said automatically.
“Yeah,” he replied, just as quick. An awkward half second passed. Students streamed around you like water around rocks.
“Uh,” he said, gesturing behind him. “I’ve got practice.”
“I’m heading to the library.”
“Right.”
Another pause.
Then Baku’s voice echoed down the hall. “HYUNTAK! WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO YOUR CRUSH WITHOUT ME?”
Gotak spun around. “SHUT UP.”
You kept walking, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.
After studying at the library for two hours your phone buzzed.
Sis: are you on campus rn
You: unfortunately
Sis: good. i’m outside the gym. come save me
You sighed, already turning on your heel.
When you reached the gym entrance, you spotted her immediately, arms crossed, expression unimpressed. In front of her stood a very familiar tall guy, animated hands, loud voice, zero shame.
“…so yeah,” Baku was saying, grinning, “I don’t usually do this, but you seem cool, and I was thinking maybe coffee? Or dinner? Or both?”
Your sister stared at him. “Do you always talk this much?”
“Only when I’m nervous,” he said proudly.
She glanced past him and locked eyes with you. Help me.
Before you could step in, another presence slid into your peripheral vision.
Gotak.
He stopped short when he saw you, then looked between Baku and your sister like he’d walked into the wrong scene.
“…What are you doing,” he muttered.
Baku turned. “Oh! Gotak. Perfect timing. This is...”
“Don’t,” Gotak said flatly.
Your sister raised an eyebrow. “Is he always like this?”
“Unfortunately,” you said, deadpan.
Gotak glanced at you. Then away. “You know her?”
“She’s my sister,” your sister answered before you could, sticking her hand out toward Baku. “And you’re…?”
“BAKU,” he said immediately, shaking her hand way too enthusiastically. “Basketball. Business major. Extremely single.”
Gotak groaned. “You didn’t need to add that.”
“Yes, I did,” Baku replied. “Transparency builds trust.”
Your sister laughed despite herself.
You noticed Gotak notice it. He shifted his weight, jaw tight, eyes flicking between them like he was calculating damage control.
“So,” your sister said, pulling her hand back, “do you flirt with every girl who stands still long enough?”
Baku blinked. “Only the pretty ones.”
She stared at him for a second.
“…Bold,” she decided.
“Is that a yes?” he asked hopefully.
“It’s a ‘you’re weird,’” she said. “But not in a bad way.”
Baku beamed like he’d just won a championship.
Gotak leaned closer to you, voice low. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” you asked.
“For him.”
You huffed a quiet laugh before you could stop it.
He caught it. Noticed it. Didn’t comment but something eased in his shoulders.
Your sister checked her phone. “I have to go. You coming?”
“In a second,” you said. She walked off anyway.
Baku watched her go, dreamy. “I think she likes me.”
Gotak snorted. “She doesn’t.”
“She laughed.”
“She pitied you.”
Baku ignored him and turned to you. “Your sister’s cool.”
“She knows,” you replied.
An awkward pause followed as Baku finally took the hint and jogged to the gym.
That left you and Gotak standing there, the noise of the gym spilling out around you.
“…So,” he said.
“So,” you echoed.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Your presentation...”
You tensed instinctively.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he added quickly. “I just heard some girls from my English class talking about it after.”
“…Okay.”
“They said you did good,” he continued. “Like. Really good.”
You hadn’t expected that.
“Oh,” you said. “Thanks.”
He nodded once, satisfied, as if he had checked something off the list.
Awkward silence stretched between you two again.
“I’ll see you around,” he said eventually.
“Yeah.”
He took a step back, then hesitated. “Uh. Good luck. With… everything.”
You smiled for real.
“Thanks, Gotak.”
He froze for half a second at his name.
Then nodded and walked away, hands in his pockets, ears just a little red.
You watched him disappear into the crowd and exhaled.
It's kind of fascinating how often you run into each other. Maybe you always did and passed without acknowledging each other's presence.
Now that you know him, his name and the fact that he will be out somewhere in the campus, you somehow want to wander around the campus a little longer.
The gym was loud in that specific way that made your chest vibrate, sneakers squealing, whistles sharp, the bass of the crowd rolling like a wave. You hadn’t planned on coming. Your sister had.
“Come on,” she’d said, already pulling you by the wrist. “You’ve been holed up all week. And the basketball team’s actually good this year.”
You sat halfway up the bleachers, jackets folded on your laps, knees brushing because the place was packed. Your sister leaned forward, elbows on her thighs, scanning the court like she was looking for someone. You noticed. Of course you did.
Then the team ran out.
You didn’t mean to look for him. Your eyes just… landed there.
Go Hyuntak. Gotak was impossible to miss. Broad shoulders stretching his jersey, jaw set, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was already irritated at something. He clapped once, hard, shouting something you couldn’t hear. The sound carried anyway.
Your sister nudged you. “Isn’t that the guy from the...?”
You groaned. “Don’t.”
“He’s kinda”
“Don’t,” you repeated, but you were smiling despite yourself.
The game started too fast. Gotak played like everything was personal, driving hard into the paint, stealing passes with a sharpness that made the crowd gasp. Every time he scored, the bleachers erupted. Every time someone fouled him, he argued like his life depended on it, veins standing out in his neck.
He was hot headed. You’d been right.
Somewhere in the second quarter, you noticed another presence, louder, flashier. Number eight. Big grin, constant trash talk, blowing exaggerated kisses toward the stands after a clean three pointer.
Baku.
You felt your sister stiffen beside you.
“Oh my god,” she muttered.
You followed her line of sight. Baku was waving. Not generally. Specifically at her.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled something. You couldn’t hear the words, but the intent was painfully obvious. Your sister dropped her face into her hands.
“I hate him,” she said. “Why does he keep doing that?”
“You don’t hate him,” you said dryly. “You’re just mad it’s working.”
She shot you a look. “Shut up.”
On the court, Gotak noticed. You saw it happen for the split second glance toward the bleachers, the way his mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh. He shoulder checked Baku as they reset, muttering something that made Baku cackle and almost miss the inbound.
The crowd roared.
By halftime, your throat hurt from cheering. You hadn’t realized you were doing it until Gotak sank a brutal layup through contact and you were on your feet, shouting his name like you’d been doing it your whole life.
He looked up then straight at you just for a moment.
It wasn’t a smile. Not really. Just the corner of his mouth lifting, like he’d clocked something interesting and filed it away for later.
Your stomach flipped, sharp and unwelcome.
Your sister leaned close. “He saw you.”
“I know,” you said, too quickly.
The second half was messier. Fouls, shoving, tempers flaring. At one point Gotak nearly got a technical, chest to chest with an opponent, Baku dragging him back by the jersey and yelling, “Bro, relax! She’s watching!”
You nearly choked.
When the final buzzer went and their team won by six, the gym exploded. Music blared. People poured down toward the court.
Baku, sweat soaked and grinning, jogged straight toward the bleachers.
“Hey!” he called, stopping in front of you. He pointed at your sister like he’d finally found Waldo. “You came.”
She crossed her arms. “You play better when you’re not busy flirting with strangers.”
“Ouch,” he said, hand to his chest. “See, Gotak? She’s mean to me.”
Gotak came up behind him, towel slung around his neck, breathing heavy. Up close, he smelled like sweat and detergent and adrenaline.
“Don’t drag me into your mess,” he said, then glanced at you. “You two enjoy the game?”
You nodded. “You almost got thrown out.”
He huffed a laugh. “Worth it.”
Your eyes met again. Closer now. Something unspoken pressing between the noise and the heat and the fact that this definitely wasn’t the last time you’d run into each other.
After that day, It started quietly. Too quietly to call it flirting.
Gotak begins showing up on your shifts. Not every day, only Mondays and Tuesdays, just often enough to feel intentional. Always around the time the campus cafe slows down, when the espresso machine sighs instead of screams.
He orders the same thing every time. Iced Americano, no syrup.
He sits at the same table in the corner. Back to the wall with his laptop open, notebook beside it, basketball bag at his feet like he doesn’t quite trust the world not to steal it.
At first, you pretend it’s coincidence. By the third week, it’s not.
“You work late,” he says one night, glancing at the clock as you wipe down the counter.
“Home is close, so not a huge problem,” you reply.
He shrugs. “Someone’s gotta walk you home.”
You freeze for half a second. Long enough for your heart to misbehave.
It becomes a routine. Homework silence broken by small things, for instance him complaining about group projects, you venting about professors who think deadlines are suggestions for suffering. Sometimes he waits. Sometimes he doesn’t. When he does, he walks you back to home like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The tension creeps in sideways.
His knee brushing yours under the table when the cafe is empty. The way he hands you your jacket instead of tossing it.
How he remembers you are not liking the people from your group project and brings you a canned peach drink without being asked.
“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him.
“I know,” he says, simple. “I want to.”
That’s the problem.
Your sister notices before you say anything.
“He likes you,” she declares, spoon paused mid air.
“He’s just nice,” you argue.
She snorts. “He glares at men who look at you for more than three seconds.”
You choke on your drink.
It’s stupid. You know it is. But you start letting yourself imagine things. Him asking you out properly. A date that isn’t just studying side by side. His hand warm around yours instead of hovering a respectful inch away.
The cafe closes late, and Gotak waits like usual, leaning against the brick wall outside with his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t say anything when you lock up. He just falls into step beside you, matching your pace without trying.
You’ve walked this route together enough times now that the silence feels comfortable, familiar and most importantly safe.
“You eat?” he asks halfway down the path.
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
That’s it. That’s the conversation.
You reach the corner where your paths split. He slows.
“Text me when you get in,” he says, casual like it’s nothing.
“I will.”
You do.
He always replies with a single 👍 or good. Then goodnight.
That’s how it’s been.
So when you see him again later that week, you’re not expecting it to hurt.
You’re crossing campus with your sister, arms linked, complaining about an assignment, when she stops short.
“Oh,” she says. “Isn’t that your man?”
You follow her gaze.
Gotak is near the gym entrance, standing off to the side like he’s waiting for someone. His hoodie is zipped up, backpack slung low, posture tense.
Then a girl approaches him. She’s smiling in a comfortable that doesn’t need permission.
You slow without realizing it. Your sister keeps walking, not noticing. You let your arm slip from hers.
“Go on,” you say quietly. “I’ll catch up.”
She nods, distracted, and disappears into the crowd.
You stay where you are. Half hidden behind a column. Close enough to see, far enough not to be seen.
The girl says something you can’t hear.
Gotak exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. He looks tired but not annoyed, just worn down.
She steps closer.
You tell yourself you’re overthinking it.
Then she reaches for him just… naturally. She wraps her arms around his waist like she’s done it before.
Gotak just stands there. Your breath catches.
He doesn’t hug her back. But he doesn’t move away either.
She says something again, quieter this time, face tilted up toward him. Her hand presses flat against his chest and starts leaning toward him on her tiptoes.
You don’t wait for the rest.
You turn away before your eyes can betray you, heart pounding so hard it makes you dizzy.
You don’t see him step back. Don’t hear him say her name sharply. Don’t hear the edge in his voice when he tells her to stop.
All you know is what it looked like. And that’s enough.
You don’t tell anyone. Even your sister, your friends and not even yourself, really.
You just… adjust.
You switch your cafe shifts to earlier ones on different days. You tell your manager it’s for academic reasons. It’s not a lie. Just not the whole truth.
Gotak shows up on a Monday and doesn’t see you. He checks the schedule on the wall.
Shows up Tuesday. Still nothing.
By the third time, he asks.
“Did she quit?” he says, frowning at the barista.
She shrugs. “Nah. Different shifts now.”
His chest tightens. He texts you.
"hey. didn’t see you this week."
"yeah, my schedule changed." you reply hours later.
"oh okay."
He tries again. Shows up earlier. Stays later. Misses part of practice once and gets chewed out for it.
After two weeks, he finally catches you restocking cups one afternoon.
“Hey,” he says, relief flashing across his face before he can stop it.
You barely look at him. “Hi.”
“You’ve been… busy,” he says carefully.
“Yeah.”
Silence stretches.
“I did something wrong?” he says eventually. Not accusing, just tired.
You shake your head. “No.”
“Then what...”
“I should get back to work,” you interrupt, already stepping past him.
That’s when he knows you don't want him around you. That's when he knows he lost you but not knowing when and what went wrong.
And not knowing why hurts worse than anything else.
Baku figures it out last which is impressive, honestly.
“Okay,” he says one day, sitting between you and your sister in the library like he belongs there. “So something happened.”
“No it didn’t,” you say.
“It absolutely did,” your sister adds.
Baku grins. “See? Teamwork.”
You glare at him. “Go away.”
“Nope,” he says cheerfully. “Because Gotak’s been miserable, and you’ve been weird, and I refuse to believe that’s a coincidence.”
Your sister watches you closely. “You saw something, didn’t you?”
Your throat tightens. You don’t answer.
That’s answer enough.
Baku leans back, hands behind his head. “By any chance, was it a girl?”
You freeze.
“…What girl?” your sister asks.
Baku groans. “Oh my god, you didn’t know? I think I told you about it when we were going to that...”
“Shut up. Know what?” she presses.
“That Gotak’s ex transferred back this semester,” Baku says. “The one who dumped him for that baseball player right before finals last year?”
Your chest twists.
“She tried to get back together with him,” Baku continues. “He shut that down.”
You laugh weakly. “That’s not what it looked like.”
Baku sits up. “What did you see?”
You hesitate. Then, quietly, “I saw her hug him. Then leaning for a kiss... And he didn’t stop her.”
Your sister’s eyes soften immediately. Baku swears under his breath.
“He froze,” Baku says. “He always does when she pulls that crap.”
“That’s not better,” you whisper.
“No,” your sister says gently. “But it’s not what you think either.”
Baku leans forward. “He told her no. Immediately after.”
Your heart stutters.
“Maybe you ran without seeing the whole thing,” Baku says, stating a fact
Silence crashes down.
Your sister reaches for your hand. “You should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want it to be real,” you admit.
"Can we stop talking about it?" you stand up, grabbing your water bottle.
After you went to refill your water bottle, Baku exhales. “Okay. New plan.”
Your sister blink. “What plan?”
He grins. “We fix this.” Your sister nods. “Together.”
Somewhere across campus, Gotak sits alone on a bench, phone in his hands, staring at a text he’s typed and erased five times.
He has no idea but help is finally on the way.
You don’t know it yet, but the next Thursday is doomed the moment your sister insists on dragging you to dinner.
“Baku invited us,” she says, already slipping on her shoes.
“That’s suspicious,” you mutter from the couch.
“He invited me,” she corrects, not looking at you. “You’re collateral.”
You narrow your eyes. “You hate basketball boys.”
“I hate loud ones,” she says lightly. “He’s… loud in a manageable way.” That alone is concerning.
By the time you realize you’re being set up, it’s too late.
The restaurant is just off campus. Small and warm. It's the kind of place people go when they want to talk without being overheard.
Baku is already there when you arrive, standing up from the round table that's too big for two people to pull out chairs like he’s auditioning to be someone’s decent boyfriend.
He grins when he sees your sister. Not his usual over the top grin but in a softer, quieter way. He hands her a menu before she even sits.
You clock it immediately. Since when does he do that?
“Hey,” he says to you, casually.
“Hi,” you reply, suspicious.
Your sister sits beside him without thinking. Their knees brush. Neither of them move away. Interesting.
“So,” Baku says, once you’ve ordered. “Funny story.”
“No,” you say immediately.
He laughs. “Just wait.”
You don’t have to wait long. The door opens.
You know it’s him before you see him.
The air shifts just enough to make your chest tighten. You look up on instinct.
Gotak freezes in the doorway.
He’s wearing a hoodie you recognize. The one he used to walk you home in. His eyes sweep the room, land on Baku, then... On you.
For half a second, he looks like he’s been punched.
“…What?” he mutters.
Baku raises his hand cheerfully. “Hey, man! Over here.”
Gotak’s jaw tightens.
You don’t look away. You can’t.
Your sister glances between you two, then smoothly reaches for her water like nothing is wrong.
“Sit,” Baku says. “Food’s good.”
Gotak hesitates. You almost hope he won’t.
He sits across from you anyways. The table suddenly feels very small.
For a while, no one says anything meaningful. Small talk fills the space, classes, practice, a joke about Baku getting fouled too easily.
Your sister laughs at something Baku says, leaning closer without realizing it. Her hand rests briefly on his arm. He stills like it matters.
You notice. Gotak notices too. His eyes flick to them, then back to you.
“You changed your shifts,” he says quietly.
You stiffen. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
Baku opens his mouth. Your sister kicks him under the table.
“Gotak,” she says evenly, “maybe...”
“No,” he cuts in, not raising his voice. “I want to hear it from her.”
Silence drops like a held breath.
You stare at your plate. “I told you. School.”
“That’s not all of it.”
You look up then. “Why does it matter?”
His hands curl slightly on the table. “Because you stopped looking at me.”
Your heart stutters.
“That’s not...”
“Two weeks,” he continues, controlled but fraying. “Two weeks of pretending I don’t exist, and I don’t even know what I did.”
Baku shifts uncomfortably. “Okay, maybe this isn’t...”
“I saw you,” you say suddenly.
Gotak stills.
“…Saw me?”
Your voice is steady. It surprises you. “By the gym with her.”
The realization hits him instantly. “Oh,” he says. Then softer, “Oh.”
“You two seemed so close,” you continue, words tumbling now that they’ve started. “She leaned in. And you didn’t stop her.”
“I did,” he says immediately.
“You didn’t,” you snap, louder than you meant to. A few heads turn. You lower your voice. “I was right there.”
His brows knit together. “You were?”
“Yes.”
He exhales sharply, frustration flashing across his face. “Maybe you left before...”
“I didn’t want to watch.”
“I told her no,” he says. “Right after.”
You shake your head. “That’s not what it looked like.”
“I froze,” he admits. “For a second. Even though she hurt me, she's still a woman. I can't just shove her off.”
“That second mattered.”
Silence stretches.
Your sister reaches for Baku’s hand under the table. You catch it out of the corner of your eye. He squeezes back without thinking. They really are a team now.
Gotak’s voice softens. “Why didn’t you ask me?”
You swallow. “Because I didn’t want the answer.”
He looks at you like that hurts worse than the misunderstanding.
“I wait for you,” he says quietly. “I walk you home. I sit in that stupid cafe just to be near you. Do you really think I’d be doing that if I was with someone else?”
You don’t answer. Because part of you already knows.
Baku clears his throat. “Okay. I’m gonna take your sister to the bathroom.”
She gives him a look. “I don’t need...”
“Bathroom,” he insists, standing and pulling her gently with him.
She sighs but goes, shooting you an encouraging look over her shoulder.
And then it’s just the two of you.
Gotak leans forward slightly. “I didn’t push her away immediately because I was tired. Not because I wanted her.”
Your throat tightens.
“She hurt me,” he adds. “You didn’t.”
That lands. Hard.
“I didn’t know,” you whisper.
“I know,” he says. “But you could’ve told me.”
“I was scared,” you admit. “I was already letting myself want things.”
He nods slowly. “Me too.”
Baku and your sister return a moment later. “Okay,” Baku says, clapping his hands softly. “We done yelling?”
No one answers.
"I think it's better if we just leave them alone, right?" your sister says looking at Baku. They left in a second.
Gotak stands. “Walk with me.”
It’s not a question.
You hesitate, then stand too.
The night air is cool enough to sober you up from the warmth of the restaurant. Streetlights stretch long shadows across the sidewalk, and the city feels gentler at this hour, quieter, like it’s giving the two of you space.
Gotak walks beside you, close but not crowding. His hands are in his jacket pockets again, shoulders relaxed in a way you don’t remember seeing before.
“You didn’t have to walk me all the way,” you say, even though you slow your steps just a little.
“I know,” he answers. A pause. Then, softer, “I want to.”
There it is again. That same simple sincerity. It still makes your chest feel strange.
You walk in silence for a bit, the comfortable kind this time. The kind that doesn’t ask to be filled.
“I was really nervous earlier,” he admits suddenly.
You glance at him. “You? You barely talked.”
“Exactly,” he says dryly. “That’s how bad it was.”
You laugh, and he smiles like he caused it on purpose.
“I kept thinking I’d mess it up,” he continues. “Say something wrong. Push too hard. Or not enough.”
You stop at a crosswalk, the light still red. He stops too, turning to face you properly. The city noise fades into background static.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he says, serious again. “About wanting to do this right.”
You hold his gaze. “Okay.”
A beat. Then, quieter, “I don’t really know what right looks like. I just know I don’t want to lose you again.”
Your breath catches. “You didn’t lose me.”
“I did,” he says. “Even if it wasn’t on purpose.”
The light changes, but neither of you moves.
“I should’ve asked,” you say. “I should’ve trusted you enough to talk to you.”
“Yeah,” he agrees gently. “But next time, we will.”
Next time. The words settle warmly between you.
You start walking again, fingers brushing. He hesitates for half a second, just long enough for you to notice and then... laces his fingers with yours. His hand is warm, steady and grounding.
You squeeze back.
When you reach your building, you linger by the entrance, neither of you quite ready to end the night.
“So,” you say, rocking back on your heels. “This was… a date.”
His mouth quirks. “Not an official one.”
“And you’re going to ask me out officially?” you tease.
He steps closer, voice low. “I was hoping you’d let me.”
You smile up at him. “I will.”
Relief flashes across his face, unguarded and real. “Good.”
He walks you to the door, waits while you unlock it. You turn back to him before going inside.
“Text me when you get home,” you say.
He grins. “I always do.”
You hesitate, then lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek. It’s brief, sweet but when you pull back, his ears are bright red and he looks like he forgot how to breathe.
“Goodnight, Gotak.”
“Goodnight,” he manages, still stunned.
You go inside with a lightness in your chest you haven’t felt in a long time.
Outside, Gotak stands there for a second longer than necessary, phone already in his hand, smiling to himself like an idiot.
Genre: slow burn romance, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff
Summary: Started with an argument, both of Gotak and you never imagined to end up here.
Word count: 7k
Authors's note: Finally I wrote a fanfiction on my most beloved, favorite character of whc. Since I have been gone for a while, I tried to make it as long as possible. Also included a little bit of side couple plot with our Baku. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing this.
The shift was supposed to be quiet. Since the Monday evenings on campus cafe is usually very quiet and empty, you often find yourself doing your assignments on the shift. No one came in the last one hour, so you were sitting deeply invested in your statistics homework. That was your first mistake.
The door swung open, bell ringing violently as a group of tall, loud guys poured into the cafe like they owned it. Sweat, laughter, the squeak of sneakers against tile.
Basketball team. Obviously.
You didn’t even look up as you called out, “Hello, please order at the self checkout kiosk.”
None of them acknowledged your presence or greeted you back. You rolled your eyes as they were talking loudly, laughing and hitting each other like elementary school students.
One of them leaned over the counter anyway.
“Hey, can we get...”
“No,” you said flatly. “we only take orders through the machine over here”
A pause. Then a laugh deep, rough, unmistakably amused.
You looked up.
He was big. Broad shoulders, messy hair still damp, deep blue hoodie half zipped, eyes sharp and a little too confident. He stared at you like you were interesting instead of irritating.
“Wow,” he said. “Didn’t know customer service came with attitude.”
You smiled sweetly. “Didn’t know basketball players came with short temper.”
His teammates lost it.
“Gotak she got you.”
“Bro, that was clean.”
His jaw tightened.
“What’s your problem?” he asked.
“My problem,” you replied calmly, “is six grown men yelling in my cafe.”
He leaned in, lowering his voice. “Then quit.”
You met his gaze, unflinching.
“Or you could behave like adults.”
Something sparked in his eyes, annoyance mixed with something else.
He straightened slowly, like he’d decided not to bite back yet.
“Adults, huh,” he said, clicking his tongue. “You talk a lot for someone working alone. The customers are waiting.”
You shut your notebook with a soft thud and turned, meeting him eye to eye across the counter. Up close, he was even more irritating, too tall, too broad, too aware of it.
“And you’re loud for someone who can’t read a sign,” you replied, pointing behind him. SELF CHECKOUT ONLY was printed in bold letters.
One of his teammates snorted.
“Hyung, she’s right.”
Another added, “Just use the machine, man.”
He didn’t look away from you.
“Now please go stand in line like the rest of your friends.”
A beat. Then laughter exploded behind him.
“Damn, Gotak, she’s scary.”
“Is she your girlfriend already?”
He shot them a glare sharp enough to cut glass. Silence followed instantly.
Gotak exhaled through his nose and stepped back, muttering, “Unbelievable,” as he turned toward the kiosk.
You sat back down, heart thudding harder than you wanted to admit.
Ten minutes later, the printer beeped.
You stood, grabbed the tray, and called out, “Americano. One protein bar.”
Gotak walked over, took the cup and frowned.
“…This is iced.”
You blinked. “You ordered iced.”
“I said hot.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
You stared at him. He stared back. The air tightened.
From behind him, one of his friends whispered, far too loudly,
“Hyung, you definitely clicked iced.”
Gotak’s ears went red.
You tilted your head, lips curving. “Want to apologize to the machine too?”
For a second, you thought he might actually snap. Instead, he grabbed the cup, took a long sip, then grimaced. “Whatever.”
He paused, then added, quieter, “It’s fine.”
You didn’t know why that surprised you.
As he turned to leave, one teammate lingered behind, a taller guy with a friendly grin and zero shame.
“Hey,” he said, nodding toward you. “I’m Baku. Sorry about him. He’s a bit grumpy today.”
You glanced at Gotak’s back, then back at Baku. “I noticed.”
Baku laughed. “See you around?”
“Probably,” you said.
Gotak shot Baku a look. “Move.”
They left in a rush of noise and sneakers, the bell ringing violently again.
The cafe fell quiet.
You stared at the door for a second longer than necessary, then shook your head and reopened your statistics notes.
Great, you thought.
Another campus menace.
You didn’t know yet that this wouldn’t be the last time you saw him. Not even close.
Few days passed since that evening. Your life was going normally as usual. School, part time job, home and repeat again and again.
But for last few days you barely slept.
Between rehearsing your slides in your head and triple checking your notes, your alarm felt like it went off the moment you closed your eyes. Still, you got up, showered, and dressed with the kind of care that made your stomach twist.
Black blazer. White blouse. Pressed slacks. Hair neat. Minimal makeup.
You looked… professional. Exactly the way your professor demanded.
Forty percent of your grade, you reminded yourself as you stepped out onto campus. Just get through today.
The hallway outside the lecture building was busy. People were rushing, laughing, cutting through crowds without looking.
You hugged your laptop to your chest and kept walking while repeating your speech in your head. That was your second mistake.
“Yo, pass it!”
Something collided with you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs.
You stumbled back a step as a splash of cold liquid spread across your chest.
You froze. Slowly, horrifically, you looked down.
Iced coffee. Brown. Soaking into your white blouse.
“No,” you whispered.
“No, no, no”
“Oh... shit.”
That voice.
You looked up.
The rude basketball player from that night stood in front of you, eyes wide, cup still tilted in his hand like he couldn’t believe what just happened. He was laughing with his friends a second ago. Now he looked… genuinely stunned.
“Watch where you’re going!” you snapped, panic and fury crashing together.
“I was...” He stopped himself, jaw tightening. “You walked right into me.”
“I was walking,” you shot back. “You were running like a child!”
One of his friends burst out laughing behind him.
“Hyung, you killed her outfit.”
Gotak shot him a glare. “Shut up.”
You pressed your laptop tighter to your chest, heat burning behind your eyes.
“This is a presentation,” you said, voice shaking despite yourself. “A formal one.”
He looked down again, really looked this time. The blazer. The blouse. The spreading stain.
His brows knit together.
“…You serious?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m serious!” you hissed. “Do you think I dress like this for fun?”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His friends shifted awkwardly, the humor draining from the situation.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said finally, lower now. “I’ll...”
“You’ll what?” you cut in. “Unspill it?”
He opened his mouth, closed it again. Ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
“I’m late,” you said, stepping past him. “Thanks. Really.”
You walked away before he could say anything else.
You locked yourself in the nearest bathroom stall and stared at the stain like it might disappear if you glared hard enough.
It didn’t. You dabbed at it with wet paper towels. It only spread.
Your phone buzzed. A text from your teammate.
"You coming? You know you have to be here 10 minutes before the presentation starts, right?"
Your throat tightened. Get it together, you told yourself.
You straightened your blazer, took a deep breath, and went to class anyway.
You were already standing at the front of the room when the door opened.
Your professor glanced up sharply. “No one should step into this classroom after me.”
“Sorry,” a familiar voice muttered. Your heart sank.
Gotak slipped into the back row, basketball jacket thrown over one shoulder. His eyes flicked up and landed on you.
Recognition hit. Then his gaze dropped to the stain. His expression changed instantly.
You didn't know at the time that Gotak followed after you to your class (while skipping his own one) to explain the incident from earlier if your professor points out your coffee stained outfit.
You turned away, face burning, and began your presentation.
Your voice was steady. Your slides were clean. You answered questions clearly.
Still, you felt it the weight of eyes, the whisper of judgment, the humiliation crawling under your skin.
When you finished, the professor nodded once. “You may sit.”
As you walked back to your seat, you risked a glance toward the back.
He was watching you. His jaw was clenched, his posture stiff, guilt written all over his face.
When class ended, you packed up quickly, determined to leave before he could say anything.
Too late.
“Hey,” he said, stepping into your path. “Wait.”
You stopped but didn’t look at him.
“I said I’m sorry,” he added, quieter now. “I really am.”
You finally met his eyes.
“Apologies don’t fix grades,” you said flatly.
Something in his expression faltered.
“…Let me make it up to you,” he said.
You laughed once, humorless. “You can’t.”
He hesitated. “At least let me try.”
You studied him for a second, really studied him.
Then you sighed.
“This isn’t over,” you said, stepping past him again.
And for the first time since you met him, he didn’t talk back. He stood there for a second after you passed him, fingers curling at his sides like he wanted to grab the words back and redo them properly.
“Hey,” he called again, not as sharp this time. “At least...”
You didn’t stop.
So he lets you go.
The rest of the day blurred together.
You replayed the presentation in your head over and over, every slide, every pause, every question you answered, trying to convince yourself the stain hadn’t mattered. Trying to believe the professor hadn’t noticed. Trying not to feel the humiliation simmering under your skin.
By the time your cafe shift rolled around that evening, exhaustion sat heavy in your bones.
Monday nights were quiet. Too quiet.
You wiped down the counter slowly, glancing at the door out of habit.
He won’t come back, you told yourself. Why would he? And why am I expecting him anyways?
The bell rang.
You closed your eyes for half a second before looking up.
Gotak stood there alone this time. No teammates. No noise. Just a navy hoodie, backpack slung over one shoulder, hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets.
He hesitated when he saw you, like he wasn’t sure if walking in had been a mistake.
“…Hey,” he said.
You straightened, professional mask snapping into place. “Self checkout’s over there.”
He winced. “Yeah. I know.”
He didn’t move right away. Instead, he cleared his throat. “I didn’t skip class to mess with you earlier.”
You paused. “That’s not comforting,” you said, flat.
“I skipped it,” he continued stubbornly, “because if your professor said something about the stain, I was gonna explain. That it was my fault.”
Your hand tightened around the cloth you were holding.
“And if he didn’t?” you asked.
“Then I’d shut up,” he replied. “Which I did.”
You finally looked at him.
His jaw was tight, eyes serious, not defensive, not annoyed. Just… sincere. Uncomfortable with it, but sincere.
“…Why?” you asked quietly.
He shrugged, then immediately scowled like he hated himself for doing it. “Because it was my fault.”
You turned away, pretending to reorganize the cups. “You already apologized.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m bad at saying things right.”
“That’s obvious.”
A corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. He walked to the kiosk, ordered, then lingered by the counter instead of waiting at a table.
“So,” he said after a moment. “Did it… go okay?”
You hesitated.
“…I think so,” you admitted. “I won’t know until grades are out.”
He nodded slowly, absorbing that. “Good.”
The printer beeped.
You slid his cup toward him without comment.
“…Thanks,” he said, then paused. “For not throwing it at me.”
You huffed a quiet laugh before you could stop yourself.
He caught it. His eyes softened just a little.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said again, gentler now. “Not today. Not like that. Just… eventually.”
You studied him over the counter. Still loud. Still annoying. Still the guy who spilled coffee on your blouse and nearly wrecked your morning.
But also the guy who followed you to class without being asked. Who stood in the back like a silent apology.
“…We’ll see,” you said.
Gotak nodded once, like he understood exactly what that meant.
He lingered by the counter, shifting his weight like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself now that the apology was out there.
Silence stretched.
“…I never said my name,” he muttered.
You glanced up briefly, noncommittal. “You don’t have to.”
“I know. Just I caught your name from the slides earlier” He scratched the back of his neck anyway. "And it's weird if only I know your name.”
You waited.
“Go Hyuntak,” he said. “Most people call me Gotak.”
The name clicked instantly, his teammates yelling it, the way it carried authority without him trying.
“Okay,” you replied. “Gotak.”
Something in his expression shifted at that. Just a quiet acknowledgment.
“…Nice to meet you,” he said, a beat late, like the words didn’t come naturally.
You raised an eyebrow. “We’ve met twice already.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Didn’t go great.”
A small pause.
“I play basketball,” he added, gesturing vaguely to himself. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”
You snorted despite yourself. “I gathered.”
He exhaled, relieved, and picked up his cup. “I won’t bother you tonight.”
“That would be great,” you said lightly.
He huffed a laugh short, surprised and headed toward the door. Before leaving, he stopped and looked back.
“For what it’s worth,” he said, quieter now, “you didn’t deserve that this morning.”
Then he left, the bell chiming softly behind him.
You stood there for a moment longer than necessary, fingers resting against the counter.
Go Hyuntak.
Great, you thought. Now he has a name. And somehow, that made everything more complicated.
The bell rang again the next evening.
You didn’t look up right away.
“Hello. Self checkout’s over there,” you said out of habit, eyes still on the register screen.
“…Yeah. I know.”
You paused.
That voice again. You looked up.
Gotak stood just inside the cafe, alone, hoodie zipped up this time, backpack hanging off one shoulder. He wasn’t loud or grinning. Wasn’t surrounded by chaos.
He looked awkward yet excited.
“Oh,” you said. “You.”
He nodded once. “Me.”
A beat passed.
Then he turned and walked straight to the kiosk, tapping the screen with far more focus than necessary. You watched from behind the counter as he frowned at the options like they’d personally offended him.
The printer beeped.
You tore off the receipt. “Americano. Iced.”
He glanced over. “I didn’t...”
“You did,” you cut in calmly.
He sighed. “Figures.”
When you slid the cup across the counter, his fingers brushed the lid by accident. He pulled his hand back immediately, like he’d touched something hot.
“…Thanks,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” you replied, neutral.
He didn’t leave.
Instead, he hovered near the counter, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. You wiped down the surface slowly, waiting him out.
“So,” he said eventually. “You always work on Mondays and Tuesdays?”
“Usually.”
He nodded, filing that away. “Makes sense. It’s quiet.”
“It is,” you agreed. “Until it isn’t.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. Before either of you could say more, the door flew open.
Noise flooded in. Sneakers, laughter and familiar voices.
“Oh! There she is!”
Baku spotted you instantly, grinning like he’d just found something shiny. “Yo! Cafe boss!”
You blinked. “Hi?”
Gotak closed his eyes. “I told you idiots to wait.”
“Relax,” Baku said, already leaning on the counter. “We’re just grabbing drinks.”
Another teammate nudged Gotak. “Hyung, is this the scary girl you told us about?”
“I didn’t say scary,” Gotak snapped.
“You implied it,” Baku said cheerfully.
You raised an eyebrow. “I’m standing right here.”
Baku beamed. “See? Terrifying.”
Gotak groaned and turned away, rubbing his face. “Order and leave.”
They didn’t. Instead, they crowded around the kiosk, arguing loudly about protein shakes and caffeine limits, completely ignoring the line they were creating out of thin air.
“Guys,” you said evenly. “One at a time.”
Baku glanced at Gotak, impressed. “Wow. She’s got authority.”
Gotak muttered, “Told you.”
The orders went out. The team filtered toward a table near the window, still loud but at least seated.
Gotak lingered again.
“I should go,” he said. “Before they get worse.”
“Good call.”
He hesitated, then added, “See you.”
Not tomorrow or later. Just see you.
You nodded once.
“Yeah.”
The next day, you nearly ran into him in the hallway. Literally. You both stopped short at the same time.
“Oh sorry,” you said automatically.
“Yeah,” he replied, just as quick. An awkward half second passed. Students streamed around you like water around rocks.
“Uh,” he said, gesturing behind him. “I’ve got practice.”
“I’m heading to the library.”
“Right.”
Another pause.
Then Baku’s voice echoed down the hall. “HYUNTAK! WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO YOUR CRUSH WITHOUT ME?”
Gotak spun around. “SHUT UP.”
You kept walking, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.
After studying at the library for two hours your phone buzzed.
Sis: are you on campus rn
You: unfortunately
Sis: good. i’m outside the gym. come save me
You sighed, already turning on your heel.
When you reached the gym entrance, you spotted her immediately, arms crossed, expression unimpressed. In front of her stood a very familiar tall guy, animated hands, loud voice, zero shame.
“…so yeah,” Baku was saying, grinning, “I don’t usually do this, but you seem cool, and I was thinking maybe coffee? Or dinner? Or both?”
Your sister stared at him. “Do you always talk this much?”
“Only when I’m nervous,” he said proudly.
She glanced past him and locked eyes with you. Help me.
Before you could step in, another presence slid into your peripheral vision.
Gotak.
He stopped short when he saw you, then looked between Baku and your sister like he’d walked into the wrong scene.
“…What are you doing,” he muttered.
Baku turned. “Oh! Gotak. Perfect timing. This is...”
“Don’t,” Gotak said flatly.
Your sister raised an eyebrow. “Is he always like this?”
“Unfortunately,” you said, deadpan.
Gotak glanced at you. Then away. “You know her?”
“She’s my sister,” your sister answered before you could, sticking her hand out toward Baku. “And you’re…?”
“BAKU,” he said immediately, shaking her hand way too enthusiastically. “Basketball. Business major. Extremely single.”
Gotak groaned. “You didn’t need to add that.”
“Yes, I did,” Baku replied. “Transparency builds trust.”
Your sister laughed despite herself.
You noticed Gotak notice it. He shifted his weight, jaw tight, eyes flicking between them like he was calculating damage control.
“So,” your sister said, pulling her hand back, “do you flirt with every girl who stands still long enough?”
Baku blinked. “Only the pretty ones.”
She stared at him for a second.
“…Bold,” she decided.
“Is that a yes?” he asked hopefully.
“It’s a ‘you’re weird,’” she said. “But not in a bad way.”
Baku beamed like he’d just won a championship.
Gotak leaned closer to you, voice low. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” you asked.
“For him.”
You huffed a quiet laugh before you could stop it.
He caught it. Noticed it. Didn’t comment but something eased in his shoulders.
Your sister checked her phone. “I have to go. You coming?”
“In a second,” you said. She walked off anyway.
Baku watched her go, dreamy. “I think she likes me.”
Gotak snorted. “She doesn’t.”
“She laughed.”
“She pitied you.”
Baku ignored him and turned to you. “Your sister’s cool.”
“She knows,” you replied.
An awkward pause followed as Baku finally took the hint and jogged to the gym.
That left you and Gotak standing there, the noise of the gym spilling out around you.
“…So,” he said.
“So,” you echoed.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Your presentation...”
You tensed instinctively.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he added quickly. “I just heard some girls from my English class talking about it after.”
“…Okay.”
“They said you did good,” he continued. “Like. Really good.”
You hadn’t expected that.
“Oh,” you said. “Thanks.”
He nodded once, satisfied, as if he had checked something off the list.
Awkward silence stretched between you two again.
“I’ll see you around,” he said eventually.
“Yeah.”
He took a step back, then hesitated. “Uh. Good luck. With… everything.”
You smiled for real.
“Thanks, Gotak.”
He froze for half a second at his name.
Then nodded and walked away, hands in his pockets, ears just a little red.
You watched him disappear into the crowd and exhaled.
It's kind of fascinating how often you run into each other. Maybe you always did and passed without acknowledging each other's presence.
Now that you know him, his name and the fact that he will be out somewhere in the campus, you somehow want to wander around the campus a little longer.
The gym was loud in that specific way that made your chest vibrate, sneakers squealing, whistles sharp, the bass of the crowd rolling like a wave. You hadn’t planned on coming. Your sister had.
“Come on,” she’d said, already pulling you by the wrist. “You’ve been holed up all week. And the basketball team’s actually good this year.”
You sat halfway up the bleachers, jackets folded on your laps, knees brushing because the place was packed. Your sister leaned forward, elbows on her thighs, scanning the court like she was looking for someone. You noticed. Of course you did.
Then the team ran out.
You didn’t mean to look for him. Your eyes just… landed there.
Go Hyuntak. Gotak was impossible to miss. Broad shoulders stretching his jersey, jaw set, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he was already irritated at something. He clapped once, hard, shouting something you couldn’t hear. The sound carried anyway.
Your sister nudged you. “Isn’t that the guy from the...?”
You groaned. “Don’t.”
“He’s kinda”
“Don’t,” you repeated, but you were smiling despite yourself.
The game started too fast. Gotak played like everything was personal, driving hard into the paint, stealing passes with a sharpness that made the crowd gasp. Every time he scored, the bleachers erupted. Every time someone fouled him, he argued like his life depended on it, veins standing out in his neck.
He was hot headed. You’d been right.
Somewhere in the second quarter, you noticed another presence, louder, flashier. Number eight. Big grin, constant trash talk, blowing exaggerated kisses toward the stands after a clean three pointer.
Baku.
You felt your sister stiffen beside you.
“Oh my god,” she muttered.
You followed her line of sight. Baku was waving. Not generally. Specifically at her.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled something. You couldn’t hear the words, but the intent was painfully obvious. Your sister dropped her face into her hands.
“I hate him,” she said. “Why does he keep doing that?”
“You don’t hate him,” you said dryly. “You’re just mad it’s working.”
She shot you a look. “Shut up.”
On the court, Gotak noticed. You saw it happen for the split second glance toward the bleachers, the way his mouth twitched like he was trying not to laugh. He shoulder checked Baku as they reset, muttering something that made Baku cackle and almost miss the inbound.
The crowd roared.
By halftime, your throat hurt from cheering. You hadn’t realized you were doing it until Gotak sank a brutal layup through contact and you were on your feet, shouting his name like you’d been doing it your whole life.
He looked up then straight at you just for a moment.
It wasn’t a smile. Not really. Just the corner of his mouth lifting, like he’d clocked something interesting and filed it away for later.
Your stomach flipped, sharp and unwelcome.
Your sister leaned close. “He saw you.”
“I know,” you said, too quickly.
The second half was messier. Fouls, shoving, tempers flaring. At one point Gotak nearly got a technical, chest to chest with an opponent, Baku dragging him back by the jersey and yelling, “Bro, relax! She’s watching!”
You nearly choked.
When the final buzzer went and their team won by six, the gym exploded. Music blared. People poured down toward the court.
Baku, sweat soaked and grinning, jogged straight toward the bleachers.
“Hey!” he called, stopping in front of you. He pointed at your sister like he’d finally found Waldo. “You came.”
She crossed her arms. “You play better when you’re not busy flirting with strangers.”
“Ouch,” he said, hand to his chest. “See, Gotak? She’s mean to me.”
Gotak came up behind him, towel slung around his neck, breathing heavy. Up close, he smelled like sweat and detergent and adrenaline.
“Don’t drag me into your mess,” he said, then glanced at you. “You two enjoy the game?”
You nodded. “You almost got thrown out.”
He huffed a laugh. “Worth it.”
Your eyes met again. Closer now. Something unspoken pressing between the noise and the heat and the fact that this definitely wasn’t the last time you’d run into each other.
After that day, It started quietly. Too quietly to call it flirting.
Gotak begins showing up on your shifts. Not every day, only Mondays and Tuesdays, just often enough to feel intentional. Always around the time the campus cafe slows down, when the espresso machine sighs instead of screams.
He orders the same thing every time. Iced Americano, no syrup.
He sits at the same table in the corner. Back to the wall with his laptop open, notebook beside it, basketball bag at his feet like he doesn’t quite trust the world not to steal it.
At first, you pretend it’s coincidence. By the third week, it’s not.
“You work late,” he says one night, glancing at the clock as you wipe down the counter.
“Home is close, so not a huge problem,” you reply.
He shrugs. “Someone’s gotta walk you home.”
You freeze for half a second. Long enough for your heart to misbehave.
It becomes a routine. Homework silence broken by small things, for instance him complaining about group projects, you venting about professors who think deadlines are suggestions for suffering. Sometimes he waits. Sometimes he doesn’t. When he does, he walks you back to home like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
The tension creeps in sideways.
His knee brushing yours under the table when the cafe is empty. The way he hands you your jacket instead of tossing it.
How he remembers you are not liking the people from your group project and brings you a canned peach drink without being asked.
“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him.
“I know,” he says, simple. “I want to.”
That’s the problem.
Your sister notices before you say anything.
“He likes you,” she declares, spoon paused mid air.
“He’s just nice,” you argue.
She snorts. “He glares at men who look at you for more than three seconds.”
You choke on your drink.
It’s stupid. You know it is. But you start letting yourself imagine things. Him asking you out properly. A date that isn’t just studying side by side. His hand warm around yours instead of hovering a respectful inch away.
The cafe closes late, and Gotak waits like usual, leaning against the brick wall outside with his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t say anything when you lock up. He just falls into step beside you, matching your pace without trying.
You’ve walked this route together enough times now that the silence feels comfortable, familiar and most importantly safe.
“You eat?” he asks halfway down the path.
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
That’s it. That’s the conversation.
You reach the corner where your paths split. He slows.
“Text me when you get in,” he says, casual like it’s nothing.
“I will.”
You do.
He always replies with a single 👍 or good. Then goodnight.
That’s how it’s been.
So when you see him again later that week, you’re not expecting it to hurt.
You’re crossing campus with your sister, arms linked, complaining about an assignment, when she stops short.
“Oh,” she says. “Isn’t that your man?”
You follow her gaze.
Gotak is near the gym entrance, standing off to the side like he’s waiting for someone. His hoodie is zipped up, backpack slung low, posture tense.
Then a girl approaches him. She’s smiling in a comfortable that doesn’t need permission.
You slow without realizing it. Your sister keeps walking, not noticing. You let your arm slip from hers.
“Go on,” you say quietly. “I’ll catch up.”
She nods, distracted, and disappears into the crowd.
You stay where you are. Half hidden behind a column. Close enough to see, far enough not to be seen.
The girl says something you can’t hear.
Gotak exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. He looks tired but not annoyed, just worn down.
She steps closer.
You tell yourself you’re overthinking it.
Then she reaches for him just… naturally. She wraps her arms around his waist like she’s done it before.
Gotak just stands there. Your breath catches.
He doesn’t hug her back. But he doesn’t move away either.
She says something again, quieter this time, face tilted up toward him. Her hand presses flat against his chest and starts leaning toward him on her tiptoes.
You don’t wait for the rest.
You turn away before your eyes can betray you, heart pounding so hard it makes you dizzy.
You don’t see him step back. Don’t hear him say her name sharply. Don’t hear the edge in his voice when he tells her to stop.
All you know is what it looked like. And that’s enough.
You don’t tell anyone. Even your sister, your friends and not even yourself, really.
You just… adjust.
You switch your cafe shifts to earlier ones on different days. You tell your manager it’s for academic reasons. It’s not a lie. Just not the whole truth.
Gotak shows up on a Monday and doesn’t see you. He checks the schedule on the wall.
Shows up Tuesday. Still nothing.
By the third time, he asks.
“Did she quit?” he says, frowning at the barista.
She shrugs. “Nah. Different shifts now.”
His chest tightens. He texts you.
"hey. didn’t see you this week."
"yeah, my schedule changed." you reply hours later.
"oh okay."
He tries again. Shows up earlier. Stays later. Misses part of practice once and gets chewed out for it.
After two weeks, he finally catches you restocking cups one afternoon.
“Hey,” he says, relief flashing across his face before he can stop it.
You barely look at him. “Hi.”
“You’ve been… busy,” he says carefully.
“Yeah.”
Silence stretches.
“I did something wrong?” he says eventually. Not accusing, just tired.
You shake your head. “No.”
“Then what...”
“I should get back to work,” you interrupt, already stepping past him.
That’s when he knows you don't want him around you. That's when he knows he lost you but not knowing when and what went wrong.
And not knowing why hurts worse than anything else.
Baku figures it out last which is impressive, honestly.
“Okay,” he says one day, sitting between you and your sister in the library like he belongs there. “So something happened.”
“No it didn’t,” you say.
“It absolutely did,” your sister adds.
Baku grins. “See? Teamwork.”
You glare at him. “Go away.”
“Nope,” he says cheerfully. “Because Gotak’s been miserable, and you’ve been weird, and I refuse to believe that’s a coincidence.”
Your sister watches you closely. “You saw something, didn’t you?”
Your throat tightens. You don’t answer.
That’s answer enough.
Baku leans back, hands behind his head. “By any chance, was it a girl?”
You freeze.
“…What girl?” your sister asks.
Baku groans. “Oh my god, you didn’t know? I think I told you about it when we were going to that...”
“Shut up. Know what?” she presses.
“That Gotak’s ex transferred back this semester,” Baku says. “The one who dumped him for that baseball player right before finals last year?”
Your chest twists.
“She tried to get back together with him,” Baku continues. “He shut that down.”
You laugh weakly. “That’s not what it looked like.”
Baku sits up. “What did you see?”
You hesitate. Then, quietly, “I saw her hug him. Then leaning for a kiss... And he didn’t stop her.”
Your sister’s eyes soften immediately. Baku swears under his breath.
“He froze,” Baku says. “He always does when she pulls that crap.”
“That’s not better,” you whisper.
“No,” your sister says gently. “But it’s not what you think either.”
Baku leans forward. “He told her no. Immediately after.”
Your heart stutters.
“Maybe you ran without seeing the whole thing,” Baku says, stating a fact
Silence crashes down.
Your sister reaches for your hand. “You should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want it to be real,” you admit.
"Can we stop talking about it?" you stand up, grabbing your water bottle.
After you went to refill your water bottle, Baku exhales. “Okay. New plan.”
Your sister blink. “What plan?”
He grins. “We fix this.” Your sister nods. “Together.”
Somewhere across campus, Gotak sits alone on a bench, phone in his hands, staring at a text he’s typed and erased five times.
He has no idea but help is finally on the way.
You don’t know it yet, but the next Thursday is doomed the moment your sister insists on dragging you to dinner.
“Baku invited us,” she says, already slipping on her shoes.
“That’s suspicious,” you mutter from the couch.
“He invited me,” she corrects, not looking at you. “You’re collateral.”
You narrow your eyes. “You hate basketball boys.”
“I hate loud ones,” she says lightly. “He’s… loud in a manageable way.” That alone is concerning.
By the time you realize you’re being set up, it’s too late.
The restaurant is just off campus. Small and warm. It's the kind of place people go when they want to talk without being overheard.
Baku is already there when you arrive, standing up from the round table that's too big for two people to pull out chairs like he’s auditioning to be someone’s decent boyfriend.
He grins when he sees your sister. Not his usual over the top grin but in a softer, quieter way. He hands her a menu before she even sits.
You clock it immediately. Since when does he do that?
“Hey,” he says to you, casually.
“Hi,” you reply, suspicious.
Your sister sits beside him without thinking. Their knees brush. Neither of them move away. Interesting.
“So,” Baku says, once you’ve ordered. “Funny story.”
“No,” you say immediately.
He laughs. “Just wait.”
You don’t have to wait long. The door opens.
You know it’s him before you see him.
The air shifts just enough to make your chest tighten. You look up on instinct.
Gotak freezes in the doorway.
He’s wearing a hoodie you recognize. The one he used to walk you home in. His eyes sweep the room, land on Baku, then... On you.
For half a second, he looks like he’s been punched.
“…What?” he mutters.
Baku raises his hand cheerfully. “Hey, man! Over here.”
Gotak’s jaw tightens.
You don’t look away. You can’t.
Your sister glances between you two, then smoothly reaches for her water like nothing is wrong.
“Sit,” Baku says. “Food’s good.”
Gotak hesitates. You almost hope he won’t.
He sits across from you anyways. The table suddenly feels very small.
For a while, no one says anything meaningful. Small talk fills the space, classes, practice, a joke about Baku getting fouled too easily.
Your sister laughs at something Baku says, leaning closer without realizing it. Her hand rests briefly on his arm. He stills like it matters.
You notice. Gotak notices too. His eyes flick to them, then back to you.
“You changed your shifts,” he says quietly.
You stiffen. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
Baku opens his mouth. Your sister kicks him under the table.
“Gotak,” she says evenly, “maybe...”
“No,” he cuts in, not raising his voice. “I want to hear it from her.”
Silence drops like a held breath.
You stare at your plate. “I told you. School.”
“That’s not all of it.”
You look up then. “Why does it matter?”
His hands curl slightly on the table. “Because you stopped looking at me.”
Your heart stutters.
“That’s not...”
“Two weeks,” he continues, controlled but fraying. “Two weeks of pretending I don’t exist, and I don’t even know what I did.”
Baku shifts uncomfortably. “Okay, maybe this isn’t...”
“I saw you,” you say suddenly.
Gotak stills.
“…Saw me?”
Your voice is steady. It surprises you. “By the gym with her.”
The realization hits him instantly. “Oh,” he says. Then softer, “Oh.”
“You two seemed so close,” you continue, words tumbling now that they’ve started. “She leaned in. And you didn’t stop her.”
“I did,” he says immediately.
“You didn’t,” you snap, louder than you meant to. A few heads turn. You lower your voice. “I was right there.”
His brows knit together. “You were?”
“Yes.”
He exhales sharply, frustration flashing across his face. “Maybe you left before...”
“I didn’t want to watch.”
“I told her no,” he says. “Right after.”
You shake your head. “That’s not what it looked like.”
“I froze,” he admits. “For a second. Even though she hurt me, she's still a woman. I can't just shove her off.”
“That second mattered.”
Silence stretches.
Your sister reaches for Baku’s hand under the table. You catch it out of the corner of your eye. He squeezes back without thinking. They really are a team now.
Gotak’s voice softens. “Why didn’t you ask me?”
You swallow. “Because I didn’t want the answer.”
He looks at you like that hurts worse than the misunderstanding.
“I wait for you,” he says quietly. “I walk you home. I sit in that stupid cafe just to be near you. Do you really think I’d be doing that if I was with someone else?”
You don’t answer. Because part of you already knows.
Baku clears his throat. “Okay. I’m gonna take your sister to the bathroom.”
She gives him a look. “I don’t need...”
“Bathroom,” he insists, standing and pulling her gently with him.
She sighs but goes, shooting you an encouraging look over her shoulder.
And then it’s just the two of you.
Gotak leans forward slightly. “I didn’t push her away immediately because I was tired. Not because I wanted her.”
Your throat tightens.
“She hurt me,” he adds. “You didn’t.”
That lands. Hard.
“I didn’t know,” you whisper.
“I know,” he says. “But you could’ve told me.”
“I was scared,” you admit. “I was already letting myself want things.”
He nods slowly. “Me too.”
Baku and your sister return a moment later. “Okay,” Baku says, clapping his hands softly. “We done yelling?”
No one answers.
"I think it's better if we just leave them alone, right?" your sister says looking at Baku. They left in a second.
Gotak stands. “Walk with me.”
It’s not a question.
You hesitate, then stand too.
The night air is cool enough to sober you up from the warmth of the restaurant. Streetlights stretch long shadows across the sidewalk, and the city feels gentler at this hour, quieter, like it’s giving the two of you space.
Gotak walks beside you, close but not crowding. His hands are in his jacket pockets again, shoulders relaxed in a way you don’t remember seeing before.
“You didn’t have to walk me all the way,” you say, even though you slow your steps just a little.
“I know,” he answers. A pause. Then, softer, “I want to.”
There it is again. That same simple sincerity. It still makes your chest feel strange.
You walk in silence for a bit, the comfortable kind this time. The kind that doesn’t ask to be filled.
“I was really nervous earlier,” he admits suddenly.
You glance at him. “You? You barely talked.”
“Exactly,” he says dryly. “That’s how bad it was.”
You laugh, and he smiles like he caused it on purpose.
“I kept thinking I’d mess it up,” he continues. “Say something wrong. Push too hard. Or not enough.”
You stop at a crosswalk, the light still red. He stops too, turning to face you properly. The city noise fades into background static.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he says, serious again. “About wanting to do this right.”
You hold his gaze. “Okay.”
A beat. Then, quieter, “I don’t really know what right looks like. I just know I don’t want to lose you again.”
Your breath catches. “You didn’t lose me.”
“I did,” he says. “Even if it wasn’t on purpose.”
The light changes, but neither of you moves.
“I should’ve asked,” you say. “I should’ve trusted you enough to talk to you.”
“Yeah,” he agrees gently. “But next time, we will.”
Next time. The words settle warmly between you.
You start walking again, fingers brushing. He hesitates for half a second, just long enough for you to notice and then... laces his fingers with yours. His hand is warm, steady and grounding.
You squeeze back.
When you reach your building, you linger by the entrance, neither of you quite ready to end the night.
“So,” you say, rocking back on your heels. “This was… a date.”
His mouth quirks. “Not an official one.”
“And you’re going to ask me out officially?” you tease.
He steps closer, voice low. “I was hoping you’d let me.”
You smile up at him. “I will.”
Relief flashes across his face, unguarded and real. “Good.”
He walks you to the door, waits while you unlock it. You turn back to him before going inside.
“Text me when you get home,” you say.
He grins. “I always do.”
You hesitate, then lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek. It’s brief, sweet but when you pull back, his ears are bright red and he looks like he forgot how to breathe.
“Goodnight, Gotak.”
“Goodnight,” he manages, still stunned.
You go inside with a lightness in your chest you haven’t felt in a long time.
Outside, Gotak stands there for a second longer than necessary, phone already in his hand, smiling to himself like an idiot.
Hiiii I love you writing, I feel you’re the only person who could do this right but I’d love a Baku fanfic with a foreigner gf. I feel like as a Hispanic in this era, we are so underrepresented 😞
Thank you so much <3
YO TE QUIERO;phm
Park humin x reader
Warnings; spanish words, humin being a cutie trying to learn spanish.
NOTE: Heyy, this is so cuteeee, i never thought i needed a humin speaking spanish (my native language) to be this happy. I really hope you like it.
IMPORTANT: I´LL BE CLOSING THE REQUEST FOR NOW, I'LL INFORM YOU GUYS WHEN THEY OPEN AGAIN, THANK YOU FOR REQUEST ME A LOT. ENJOY YOUR READING!!
Park Humin was not a guy who got scared easily. He had faced down rival gang leaders, fought three guys at once, and literally carried his friends out of danger on his back.
But right now? Right now, Baku was sweating. He was terrified. He was staring at the glowing screen of his laptop like it was a bomb about to explode.
"Okay, okay, think, Humin," he muttered to himself, grabbing his hair. "Yo... yo soy. Tú... tú eres. Nosotros... nosotros... ¿somos? No, wait, that sounds wrong. Why are there so many words just to say 'are'?!"
He groaned loudly and let his head hit his desk with a dull thud.
It all started two months ago. You had been dating the giant golden retriever of a boy for almost a year. You were a foreigner, an exchange student with Hispanic roots, and while your Korean was great, you still slipped into Spanish whenever you were surprised, angry, or really happy.
Baku thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Whenever you stubbed your toe and yelled "¡Ah, mierda!" or whenever you tasted really good food and mumbled "Dios, qué rico," his heart did a stupid little flip. He loved the way the words rolled off your tongue. He loved how fast and passionate you sounded.
But he hated not knowing what you were saying.
Especially when you called him pet names. Sometimes you would play with his hair and call him "Mi osito" or "Mi amor," and he would just blush and nod, completely clueless but totally in love.
So, Baku did what any overly dedicated, totally whipped boyfriend would do. He secretly enrolled in an online beginner’s Spanish class.
His plan was flawless. He was going to study in secret for a few months, and then, on your one-year anniversary, he was going to drop a perfectly pronounced, super romantic speech in Spanish. He imagined you crying happy tears, jumping into his arms, and kissing him all over his face.
It was a great plan.
Until the midterm exam.
Which was tomorrow.
And Baku hadn’t realized that Spanish grammar was basically a torture device designed to destroy his brain.
"Why does a table have a gender?" Baku whispered to his empty room, staring at his flashcards. "Why is la mesa a girl? It’s a piece of wood!"
Suddenly, the front door of his apartment clicked open. He had given you a spare key a few weeks ago, and he heard your familiar footsteps in the hallway, followed by the rustling of plastic bags.
"Humin! I brought tteokbokki!" your voice rang out, cheerful and bright.
Baku panicked. He scrambled to gather his flashcards, his heavy textbook, and his notebook. He tried to shove them under his bed, but his giant hands knocked over his trash can instead.
"Humin? Are you in there?"
The bedroom door pushed open. You walked in holding a bag of spicy street food, wearing one of his oversized hoodies that went down to your thighs. You stopped in your tracks, blinking at the chaotic scene.
Baku was frozen on the floor, half under his bed, holding a bright yellow book with the words ¡ESPAÑOL PASO A PASO! printed in giant red letters on the cover.
You looked at him. You looked at the book. You looked at the whiteboard on his wall that had verb conjugations scribbled in his messy handwriting.
"Baku..." you said slowly, your eyes wide. "Are you... studying Spanish?"
His face instantly turned the color of a tomato. He slowly pulled himself out from under the bed, still clutching the book to his chest like a shield. He couldn't even look you in the eye. He just stared at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.
"I... uh. No?" he lied horribly.
"Humin," you giggled, setting the food down on his nightstand. You walked over to him and gently pulled the textbook from his massive hands. "You literally have 'El verbo ESTAR' written on your forehead in dry-erase marker."
He quickly wiped his forehead, his blush deepening. "Man, I'm so stupid," he mumbled, looking totally defeated. "It was supposed to be a surprise."
Your heart completely melted into a puddle. You dropped the book on the floor and threw your arms around his neck. He immediately wrapped his thick arms around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder, still embarrassed.
"You were learning Spanish for me?" you asked softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Yeah," he grumbled against your hoodie. "You always say cute things to me, and I never know what they mean. I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary. I wanted to say... I wanted to say a whole speech. But your language makes zero sense, _____."
You laughed out loud, a happy, bright sound that made him look up at you.
"Oh, my sweet baby," you cooed, kissing his nose. "That is literally the cutest thing anyone has ever done for me. But why do you look like you're about to cry?"
"Because I have an online exam tomorrow!" he wailed, acting like a giant baby. He dropped his head back onto your shoulder. "If I fail, I get kicked out of the program. And I don't know anything. I don't know the difference between por and para. I don't know why hacer changes to hago. It's a nightmare!"
You couldn't help it. You started laughing so hard your stomach hurt. The image of Eunjang's strongest boy, the guy who made bullies pee their pants, being defeated by Spanish verbs was just too funny.
"Don't laugh at me!" he whined, picking you up by the waist and dropping you onto his bed. He hovered over you, pouting. "I'm suffering here."
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," you gasped, trying to catch your breath. You reached up and cupped his cheeks, squishing his face. "I'll help you. I am a native speaker, after all. What's your exam on?"
His eyes lit up like you had just handed him a million dollars. "Really? You'll help me?"
"Of course I will, idiota," you smiled, pulling him down for a proper kiss. His lips were soft and eager, and he kissed you back with a desperate kind of relief, his heavy body pressing you gently into the mattress.
"Okay, enough of that," you said, pushing his chest playfully after a minute. "Go get your laptop. Let's see how bad the damage is."
Ten minutes later, you were sitting cross-legged on his bed, the laptop resting on a pillow between you. Baku was sitting right next to you, his chin resting on your shoulder, watching the screen like a lost puppy.
"Alright, let's start with pronunciation," you said, opening his study guide. "Read this sentence for me."
The sentence was: El perro corre rápido por el ferrocarril. (The dog runs fast through the railroad).
Baku squinted at the screen. He took a deep breath, looking extremely serious.
"El... pe-ro... co-re... rap-i-do... por el... fello-ca-lil?"
You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop the giggles, but a snort escaped anyway.
Baku groaned, hiding his face in your neck. "I told you! I sound like an idiot!"
"No, no, baby, it's okay!" you promised, petting his hair. "You just have to roll your R's. Like this: Rrrrr."
Baku lifted his head and tried. "Dddrrr. Grrrr. Rwaaa." He sounded like an engine trying to start in the middle of winter.
"Put your tongue behind your top teeth and blow air," you instructed, turning your head to face him.
He stared at your mouth intensely, then tried again. "Rrrr... perro."
"Yes! Exactly!" you cheered, clapping your hands.
Baku's chest puffed out with pride. He smirked. "I did it. Do I get a prize?"
"A prize?"
He tapped his lips with a thick finger. "A kiss for every word I say right. That's the only way my brain works."
You rolled your eyes but smiled. "Fine. Say ferrocarril."
"Fello— wait. Fer-ro-ca-rril."
He struggled, but he got it out. You leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the lips. He chased your lips, trying to deepen the kiss, but you pulled back.
"Ah ah ah. Only a quick kiss. Focus, Humin."
He huffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Fine. What's next?"
"Okay, let's check your vocabulary," you said, scrolling down. "How do you say 'I am 18 years old'?"
Baku smiled confidently. "Oh, I know this one! It's easy." He cleared his throat. "Tengo dieciocho anos."
You froze.
You stared at him. He smiled back, looking extremely proud of himself, completely unaware of what he had just said.
"What?" he asked, his smile faltering when you didn't say anything. "Did I say it wrong?"
You slowly put your face in your hands and started shaking with laughter. You were laughing so hard that no sound was coming out, and tears were literally forming in the corners of your eyes.
"_____! What did I say?!" Baku panicked, grabbing your shoulders. "Stop laughing! I thought I said years!"
"Humin," you wheezed, wiping a tear from your cheek. "You... you have to put the little squiggle over the 'n'. The ñ. It's años."
"Yeah, that's what I said. Anos."
"No, baby. Años means years. Anos means... anuses."
Baku stared at you. His brain buffered for a solid five seconds.
Then, his entire face, down to his neck, turned a violent shade of red. He threw his hands over his face, falling backward onto the mattress with a loud groan.
"I told my teacher I had 18 anuses yesterday on a voice recording," he whispered into his hands. "I'm going to drop out of school. I'm moving to the mountains. You can never look at me again."
You couldn't breathe. You were laughing so hard you fell back onto his chest, clutching your stomach. "Oh my god... I would pay money to see your teacher's face!"
"Stop it!" he whined, wrapping his arms around you to hide you against his chest, embarrassed but refusing to let you go. "This language is a trap! One little squiggle and suddenly I'm a medical anomaly!"
"It's okay, it's a common mistake!" you giggled, kissing his jawline since his face was still hidden. "I promise I won't tell Gotak or Sieun. They would never let you live it down."
"If you tell Gotak, I will literally throw him out a window," Baku mumbled, finally peeking out from behind his hands. He looked at you, his dark eyes softening when he saw how happy you were. Even though he felt dumb, seeing you laugh like this made the humiliation totally worth it.
"Okay, let's keep going," you said, sitting up and pulling him up with you. "Let's practice some conjugations. If you get three in a row right, you get a real kiss."
Baku's competitive side instantly woke up. He sat up straight, rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a fight. "Bring it on."
For the next two hours, his room turned into a battlefield of grammar.
"To eat. Comer," you prompted. "Say 'We eat'."
"Nosotros... comemos!"
"Yes! Good boy. To sleep. Dormir. Say 'She sleeps'."
Baku frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in heavy concentration. "Ella... dorme? Wait, no. The 'o' changes. Ella duerme!"
"Correct!" You leaned in and gave him a soft, lingering kiss. His large hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. He smiled into the kiss, totally addicted to the reward system.
But it wasn't all smooth sailing.
"Okay, to want. Querer. Say 'I want you'."
Baku looked at you. His eyes darkened a little, his gaze dropping to your lips. "Yo... quiero... tú?"
"Almost," you teased, tapping his nose. "It's Yo te quiero. The 'te' goes before the verb."
"That's stupid," he argued, pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling his waist. "Why is it backwards? In Korean it's straightforward. In English it's straightforward."
"Don't question the language, just learn it," you laughed, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. "Say it."
"Yo te quiero," he said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding rough and incredibly sexy. His pronunciation was still a little clumsy, but the way he looked at you made your heart skip a beat.
"Muy bien," you whispered.
He didn't wait for his reward kiss this time. He took it. He pulled you down by the waist, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His hands were warm as they slid under your hoodie, resting on the bare skin of your lower back. You sighed into his mouth, running your fingers through his messy, dark hair.
He tasted like the mint gum he always chewed and felt like home. You could feel his heart beating fast against your chest. For a guy who looked so scary to the rest of the world, he was so incredibly gentle with you.
When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless.
"Was that correct?" he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.
"Perfect," you smiled.
"Can I stop studying now? My brain is melting."
"Humin, your exam is tomorrow."
"I know enough to pass. Probably. Maybe," he groaned, burying his face in your chest and wrapping his arms around you like a giant koala. "I'm so tired. Feed me tteokbokki."
You laughed, reaching over to the nightstand to grab the food you had brought earlier. It was lukewarm now, but neither of you cared. You sat on his lap, feeding him spicy rice cakes with a toothpick while he held you securely.
"You really didn't have to do this, you know," you said softly, popping a fish cake into your own mouth. "Taking a whole class just to talk to me. You're already the best boyfriend ever."
Baku chewed and swallowed before looking at you seriously.
"I wanted to," he said simply. "You always make me feel special. You make that whole foreign country feel like home for me, even though you're the one who's far from home. I wanted to... I don't know. I wanted to be closer to your world."
You felt a lump form in your throat. You put the food down and hugged him tight, burying your face in his neck. "You're gonna make me cry, you idiot."
He chuckled, rubbing your back with his large hand. "Don't cry. Tell me something in Spanish."
You pulled back and looked into his eyes.
"Eres el amor de mi vida," you said softly.
Baku smiled. He didn't know the exact translation, but he knew the word amor, and he knew the word vida. And he knew the way you looked at him.
"I know what that means," he whispered, leaning in to kiss you again. "And you're mine, too."
***
The next day, Baku sat in the school library with his laptop, staring at the final screen of his online exam.
Sieun and Gotak were sitting across from him, eating snacks.
"Is he still doing that weird test?" Gotak whispered loudly to Sieun. "He's been staring at the screen for ten minutes without blinking."
"He's processing," Sieun said calmly, flipping a page in his book. "Leave him be."
Baku took a deep breath and clicked 'Submit'.
A little loading circle spun on the screen. His heart was pounding louder than when he fought Baekjin.
The screen refreshed.
Score: 78% (C+)
Status: PASS
Baku let out a massive breath, slumping back into his chair. He rubbed his face with his hands, a huge, goofy grin spreading across his face.
"I passed," he whispered. Then, louder, "I passed! I'm a bilingual genius!"
"You got a C+, Humin," Sieun pointed out without looking up. "That's hardly a genius level."
"Shut up, Sieun, a pass is a pass!" Baku slammed his laptop shut and jumped up, grabbing his backpack. "I gotta go find _____!"
He ran out of the library, leaving Gotak confused and Sieun slightly amused.
Baku found you by your locker, putting away your books. You looked up when you heard his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway.
"Humin! How did it go?" you asked, closing your locker.
He didn't answer with words. He walked right up to you, picked you up by the waist, and spun you around, making you squeal. He put you down, grinning from ear to ear.
"¡Setenta y ocho por ciento!" he announced proudly, butchering the pronunciation but getting the point across.
"You passed!" you cheered, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him right there in the middle of the hallway. You didn't care who was watching. "I'm so proud of you, mi amor!"
"I literally guessed on the subjunctive part, but your kisses gave me good luck," he laughed, holding you close.
"Well, you deserve a reward," you smiled, playing with his collar. "What do you want to do to celebrate?"
Baku looked down at you, his eyes full of adoration. He leaned in close to your ear.
"Quiero... comer... contigo... y después..." He paused, his brain working overtime to remember the words. "Muchos besos."
You giggled, your heart swelling with so much love you thought it might burst. His accent was terrible. His grammar was incredibly simple.
But to you? It was the most perfect Spanish in the world.
"Muchos besos it is, mi osito," you whispered back, kissing his cheek. "Let's go."
As you walked out of the school hand in hand, Baku realized that he might never fully understand the complicated grammar rules, and he would probably embarrass himself a hundred more times trying to roll his R's.
But as long as he could make you smile like that? He was willing to learn every word in the dictionary.
includes: yeon sieun, ahn suho, oh beomseok, go hyuntak, park humin, seo juntae, geum seongje
—— characters are in an established relationship ——
- summary: valentine themed headcanons + a photo that would suit their valentine’s vibe (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
- warnings: much love and fluff >.<, mentions of smoking
- note: hope you love this as much as i do!! happy valentine’s day 💗 (even if you’re single, we’re matching. T~T)
———————————— ♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆—————————————
💗 YEON SIEUN.
♡ HOW WOULD HE ASK YOU OUT? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- this man would know about valentine’s day, but genuinely would not give a damn
- not until you bring it up ofc.
- feel like you’d have a conversation like “i think valentine is such a cute day!” and he’d be like “…really?”
- since that minute, he thinks how to ask you properly to not disappoint you.
- would genuinely search for ideas how to ask you to be his valentine, finds everything extra cringe and would just go for it.
- he’d ask you the night before the 14th, with you lying in bed with him, minding your own business. he’d just blurt out “do you want to spend valentine’s day with me?”
- once you say yes, he smiles a little in relief when you don’t see him.
- spoiler: he was nervous. this guy genuinely thought you’d say no (even if you were HINTINGGG)
…
♡ HOW WOULD THE DAY GO? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- probably will go on a walk with you
- if the weather is bad, you’ll end up at a quiet, cozy café.
- if the weather is tolerable, he’d still buy you any drink you want and would want to be outside, or go to a park to sit down.
- he would actually love every minute of the day, talking about nonsense with you while holding hands like a couple in the movies.
- would want you to stay overnight, but is embarrassed to ask.
- best believe his cheeks will stay pink all day. will blame it on the cold wind.
- is surprisingly soft with you the whole day. this man just fell in love with valentine’s day, even if he thought it’s just a normal day. (he won’t admit it.)
…
♡ GIFT(S) FROM HIM !! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
your favourite hot drink (as mentioned before)
a chocolate box - valentine themed
maybe a little keychain w something you like!!
- his gifts wouldn’t be extra, but meaningful : )
…
♡ OVERALL VIBE:
———————————— ♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆—————————————
💗 AHN SUHO.
♡ HOW WOULD HE ASK YOU OUT? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- this ahh acting all nonchalant about it like he wasn’t planning it since the half of january.
- if you try to ask if he’s planning something, he will deny to the point where you start thinking he actually won’t ask you out.
- “who knows? never cared about that stuff.”
- actually planned to ask you in school, but chickened out.
- plan b: call you at midnight, asking you to be his valentine. that also didn’t work because he fell asleep.
- so, when he woke up in the morning, the first thing he did was panic over it.
- he’d text you in a hurry, hoping you weren’t mad (how could you be?)
suho: hey y/n i’m so sorry i fell asleep yesterday please don’t be mad
suho: let’s go out, i’ll treat my valentine extra nicely today. deal?
…
♡ HOW WOULD THE DAY GO? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- first off, he’d stop by your house with a bouquet of your favourite flowers as he explains how he wanted to ask you.
- then, if you wanted to go somewhere specific, he’d prefer your place. but if the decision is up to him? you’re going to a restaurant.
- thinking either some fancier one, since he has some money from his part time jobs or to his grandma’s, since he knows the place and will be sure that he won’t disappoint.
- at least he wouldn’t need to pay HAHA
- i also see him taking a walk with you, holding hands and all that.
- you’ll end up by the han river, sitting at a bench with a beautiful view in front of you.
- expect him to pull you into his arms if you dare to shiver once. will fist bump the air in his head when he feels you lean into him.
- loves the intimacy of it all and is glad that you’re satisfied.
…
♡ GIFT(S) FROM HIM !! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
bouquet of your favourite flowers
a valentine themed chocolate box (will demand from you to share w him)
a BIG kiss 😉
- would think of the whole date as a gift, but little additions wouldn’t hurt him.
…
♡ OVERALL VIBE:
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💗 OH BEOMSEOK.
♡ HOW WOULD HE ASK YOU OUT? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- this cutie will genuinely get all advices from suho.
- he just really wants to impress you and wants you to feel loved on this special day !!
- would practice lines in front of the mirror like a loser, then getting embarrassed and thinking about it in his head instead.
- for the whole week before valentine, he’d be rambling to sieun and suho about it constantly.
- when beomseok starts to spiral, sieun will reassure him and will give him more honest advices than suho.
- in the morning of february 14th, you’d hear a knock on your door. when you open, you’ll be welcomed with a big bouquet of flowers and a plushie of your favourite animal with a heart : )
- “i hope you like these, i think you said they were your favourites— oh, sorry. do you want to be my valentine?
…
♡ HOW WOULD THE DAY GO? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- he would steal lots of money from his dad to really treat you. you couldn’t really tell him otherwise, so…
- will buy you anything you want, take you wherever you want, but in the evening, you’ll end up in a fancy restaurant.
- yes, this man made a whole ass reservation.
- he’s really excited, let him be 😭😭
- would ask to spend the night at your place, since he doesn’t want to leave yet.
- when you get to your place (if you say yes), you both end up watching something cute on your tv and falling asleep, tangled in each other.
- trust that he’s beaming inside the whole day. will take many photos for memories, will post them later on his instagram story.
…
♡ GIFT(S) FROM HIM !! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
big bouquet of your favourite flowers + a plushie (as mentioned before)
to be honest, anything you wish for. he has the money and will treat you with anything.
- this man would give you his heart if he had to.
…
♡ OVERALL VIBE:
———————————— ♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆—————————————
💗 GO HYUNTAK.
♡ HOW WOULD HE ASK YOU OUT? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- feel like he’d be so new to all of this, so when you bring up valentine’s day, he has no idea what to say.
- knows what it’s about but never bothered to ask a girl to be his valentine.
- has a moment of weakness and asks baku for advice -> regrets it immediately, scolds him, takes a mental note to NEVER ask him again for any relationship advice.
(also got himself into an endless teasing from him)
- but what he takes as advice is buying you something in advance and will think of a way to ask you so you’ll remember it forever.
- i see him actually waiting for you somewhere where you don’t expect him to be (if you’re going from practice for example) with a small amount of your favourite flowers and your favourite drink/snack/anything else you think of
- the minute you say yes, he hugs you immediately.
- if anyone glares your way, he’d actually smirk for himself, proud of what he had done.
…
♡ HOW WOULD THE DAY GO? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- a day in the movie theatre!
- it’s because he doesn’t need to be outside in such cold weather, loves being close to you and watching a movie at home TODAY feels very low effort.
- would let you pick the movie, will complain about it to tease you.
- throughout the movie, will make you sit closer to him and will hold your hand from the beginning.
- sharing a popcorn ofc (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
- will walk you home like a gentleman, letting you hook your arm trough his to keep you warm.
- or will give you his jacket.
- expect a minute of vulnerability and love in your doorstep when he has to go.
- don’t point it out or he’ll stop immediately LOL
…
♡ GIFT(S) FROM HIM !! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
small amount of your favourite flowers (as mentioned before)
something that’s your favourite as a sign of care (as mentioned before)
also a BIG kiss : ) - more affectionate than usual
…
♡ OVERALL VIBE:
———————————— ♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆—————————————
💗 PARK HUMIN.
♡ HOW WOULD HE ASK YOU OUT? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- you know those couple photos where the boy is holding a paper with some cheesy pick up line that leads into asking to be their valentine?
- he’s doing that. this man doesn’t care about embarrassing himself in front of the whole school.
- but of course he’s not doing it alone.
- the boys will help him out (mostly juntae, because he’s the only one who thinks it’s such a cute idea)
- would actually be a nervous wreck about it alone at home, overthinking everything.
- but even if the guys helped him out, i just know something would be incorrectly spelled on that paper😭
- jumps, yells, hugs you in happiness when you say yes.
…
♡ HOW WOULD THE DAY GO? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- wants to spend the whole day with you, so good luck getting rid of him.
- will be okay with every activity!
- you guys would get lunch together (either something from the convenience store or in his dad’s restaurant!)
- then he’d want to spend some time at the basketball court & just have fun
- in the evening, you’ll end up at an arcade with him trying to win you a plushie holding a heart. you’d have to physically hold him down to not spend all of his money.
- even if he wins or not, he would still get it for you. loves seeing you happy.
- you’ll end up spending the night with him, too. he’s enjoying this a bit too much and doesn’t want the moment to end so quickly.
- this dumbass would forget that he had another thing to give you at home - you’d receive it later that week.
…
♡ GIFT(S) FROM HIM !! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
valentine themed plushie (as mentioned before)
his hoodie - he’d give you so you have something comfortable to sleep in, only for him to say you can keep it the next day.
a small, cute necklace that he saved his money for. 🥹
…
♡ OVERALL VIBE:
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💗 SEO JUNTAE.
♡ HOW WOULD HE ASK YOU OUT? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- would take the idea from baku and will do the same thing.
- but not this flashy. something meaningful, in private, something that will send your mind into cuteness aggression.
- maybe get your favourite snack/drink and on the box, will write a simple “will you be my valentine? ❤️”
- plus with some other adorable things.
- if anyone had to be the biggest loser about it, it will be him.
- he will stutter and ramble something about not being flashy enough.
- “i-i know it’s not too much— i hope you like it, i heard you searched for this for a l-long time!”
- allat while blushing like crazy, fidgeting with his sleeves.
…
♡ HOW WOULD THE DAY GO? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- would ask his parents to buy you guys tickets to the aquarium !!
- he knows you love animals and he thinks the sea creatures are interesting, so he chose it for both of you to enjoy it.
- will be SO shy about holding your hand. but once it happens, he’s not letting go.
- would beam anytime you admire the fishes with honest interest.
- will buy you both matching keychains from there as a memory for him. (he will never forget about it)
- on the way home, you’d stop by in the convenience store for some ramen and eat it together.
- i’m telling you that he will either tell his parents or call gotak about it, because he never had a better day than this one.
…
♡ GIFT(S) FROM HIM !! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
the matching keychains (as mentioned before)
your favourite snack/drink + invitation to be his valentine (as mentioned before)
tickets to the aquarium !!
- bonus: if you love to read (especially manga’s), he will buy you another chapter of your favourite show!
…
♡ OVERALL VIBE:
———————————— ♡✧˚ ༘ ⋆—————————————
💗 GEUM SEONGJE.
♡ HOW WOULD HE ASK YOU OUT? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- let’s be real, this ahh doesn’t care at all.
- doesn’t do love, doesn’t do cheesy, couple stuff that will ruin his nonchalant persona.
- but i think that if you really mention you loving valentine’s day, he will think about it.
- he’s not the guy to do flashy things and show his affection publicly
- but he knows that he does care for you, whenever he likes it or not.
- he won’t ask you. he will act as if it was a normal day.
- BUT on the 14th of february, he’d casually go up to you and demand you to follow him.
- this is his way of asking you. he doesn’t need to hear you accept, because he knows you will say yes either way.
…
♡ HOW WOULD THE DAY GO? (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
- would only spend the evening with you, taking you on a rooftop with a beautiful view.
- he likes the night hours more anyway.
- if you smoke, will share with you as a gift.
- if you don’t, he’ll just smoke by himself. yeah, you’re not stopping him.
- you both just talk normally, but you already guessed that this is a date.
- would eventually say that it is a date, snickers when you act surprised.
- if he’s feeling extra generous, you’d have a bouquet of flowers waiting for you at the doorstep without any letter.
- you know it was him. you never needed to guess.
…
♡ GIFT(S) FROM HIM !! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
pack of cigarettes (if you smoke)
bouquet of flowers the next day
- he wouldn’t think of any gifts to be honest. he thinks him not forgetting is enough.
…
♡ OVERALL VIBE:
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yayy, finally finished!! super proud of this one. hope you like it as much as i do :)
now i should get back to my drafts haha…
any kind of support or feedback is appreciated!! check my profile to see if my inbox is open - if you’re interested ♡
Hii!! I always see that you give Park Humin a breeding/pregnancy kink and I was wondering if you could make a fic exploring that with the reader getting pregnant and maybe a glimpse of their life together after the baby is born?? Tysm if you end up doing this 🥹🥹
baby fever | Park Humin x gn!reader
pairing: dad!park humin x parent!reader
wc: 1.4k genre: slice of life, fluff
warnings: mentions of pregnancy (not really much plot with it tho)
a/n: English isn't my first language but I didn't find any grammar mistakes soooo
@anon: first off, we as a society decided that Humin would have a breeding kink— I did not make that up
plus I despise the pregnancy trope but this is lowkey cute so (also I didn’t name the baby cause that’s not my decision to make)
You knew that unprotected sex would eventually lead to pregnancy. You were aware that your mountain of a boyfriend did his best to keep you from using condoms because he loved the idea of you carrying his child.
Somehow, though, looking at the piece of plastic between your fingers, trailing that aggressively red mark that lined the display, you refused to comprehend.
“This is not real.”, you assured yourself, rereading the back of the packaging for what felt like the hundredth time.
Two lines means pregnant.
Yeah, there’s no way to misinterpret that. Somehow the tiles beneath your bare thighs grew colder, frowsy, making you shiver in more than just the morning cold. You had to tell someone.
Your parents wouldn’t make a big fuss about it, after all you were almost done with uni and Humin was doing good with his basketball scholarship as well, his grades rather second rank yet not too bad ever since you were assigned as his tutor.
And sometimes he went to help out his dad in the restaurant as well, making money on those days. It wasn’t too bad, right?
Now you just had to break the news to him.
The wind kept snapping strands of your hair into your face, the rough facade of the gym biting dents into your skin. Small annoyances like these would usually leave you unfazed but the anticipation curled into your stomach like a fist, leaving your blood boiling.
A loud thud of the door opening had captured your attention and like on autopilot you approached Humin, watching him balance his phone between his lips while he fumbled with the zipper of his gym bag.
Like the first time you had laid eyes on him in that library across campus, only one thought crossed your mind: what an idiot.
His eyes lit up when he saw you and even though you were barely a meter away, he waved.
You couldn’t approach this slowly, so bandaid confession it was.
“I’m pregnant.”, you cooed, voice barely louder than a whisper.
Baku drew his eyebrows together, unsure if he’d heard you right. The second the words seemed to seep through the wheels spinning in his head, his eyes widened.
“It took?”, he roared, catching his phone without looking down as he grinned from ear to ear.
You exhaled, swatting at his chest as the words settled in.
“Don’t joke.”, you pleaded, a tension you hadn’t noticed slowly slipping of your shoulders and allowing you to breathe again.
Humin draped one of his huge arms around your shoulders, expression faltering to something more serious.
“You wanna keep it?”
You shrugged, then feigned thinking about it like you hadn't weighed the pros and cons all morning and nodded. He kissed your temple.
“Then stop worrying. We’ll do just fine. I’ll make sure of it.”
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
The kid was growing heavy in your arms, the tiny hiccups of whining emitting from her not really helping either.
“Calm down.”, you tried to soothe her, rocking her back and forth like Humin would always do, but it was in vain, she just started flapping her arms instead, making your heart leap out your chest as you barely caught your grip to prevent her from colliding with the ground.
Tightening your clasp around her, you hurried your steps, eyes widening as the outline of the college gym finally came into your vision.
The loud bustle of voices mixing ascended from the entrance, growing eruptive as the door pushed open. Humin was dressed in casual wear, gym bag slung around his shoulder as he held the door open for the rest of his team to stumble through, enthralled in a story he was telling.
It was something you couldn’t explain but at the sound of her father’s voice, her little head snapped up, nonsense bubbling from her as she reached for him through your arms.
Humin spun on his heels, eyes wide as he noticed you both. In one step he was with you, placing a peck on your cheek before grabbing the kid off you, pressing a kiss into her hair before tossing her in the air, catching her effortlessly.
Even though your heart leapt at that, you couldn’t deny the effect, her sobs replaced through bubbly laughs.
Hyuntak who had walked next to Humin then waved at her, waiting for his friend to hold her still before pinching her cheeks with a smile that left dimples engraved in his own. In response the girl erupted in squeaky giggles.
The corners of your mouth twitched as you watched the familiar scene unfold before you.
“She’s so in love with you.”, you joked, caressing the little strands of hair that started to get thicker on her tiny head.
Hyuntak shrugged his shoulders in an excessive manner as he nodded along.
“She’s so young and already knows what’s up. How is it even possible she’s yours?”, he then teased Humin, earning a glare from his friend.
“You’re lucky I’m carrying a baby.”
“I know.”, Hyuntak chuckled, wiggling his fingers in goodbye before heading for his car.
As you and Humin started walking home as well, you stretched your arms, sore from carrying the wiggly baby all the way. “She kept crying until we got here.”, you told him.
His head snapped towards you and then right to the kid, checking for any signs of uneasiness.
“Is she sick?”, he asked, voice dripping in worry. You shook your head. “No.”, trailing as you watched his enormous hand basically cover her entire face while he held the back of his hand on her forehead.
“Do you even know what you’re checking?”
“Shhh.”, he cooed, removing the huge hand from the babie’s forehead before slapping it on yours, probably aiming to make out the difference in heat.
“That’s not how that works.”
He just chuckled, resettling the kid to sit basically on his biceps while he held her back with a stretched hand. You almsot giggled at how ridiculous the difference in size looked but the laugh caught in your throat as your feet left the ground.
You shrieked, but Humin didn’t care as he heaved you on his back, holding your leg until you tightened the hold of your knees against his ribs. While you rested your head in the crook of Humin’s neck, you smiled against his skin, watching the baby drowse into sleep in her dad’s hold.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
Washed up and rubbing the stray wetness out your hairstrands, you walked into your shared bedroom, stopping short as you noticed the lack of mass in Humin’s side of the bed. Sighing, you tossed the towel into your laundry basket and crossed the floor to the adjoining room.
An array of colorful items and decorations smiled at you as you walked through the strings of beads dangling off the doorless frame, chuckling at the sight that awaited you.
On her back, with a pacifier wiggling with every of her shallow breaths, laid your daughter, the huge blanket covering her up to her stomach— an old one that you had used to shreds during your pregnancy.
Next to her, the reason she wasn’t lying in her crib, but on the slim bed you had occupied during bonding time, scared to leave her side for even a second before you started sleeping in the room next door.
With his head on a makeshift pillow (a blanket over his biceps), he laid there, droopy eyes fixed on his daughter while he ran one finger along her puffy cheek, poking the squishy fat without starting her awake.
With your arms crossed before your chest, you scoffed.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep.”, you reminded him in a whisper.
He didn’t even startle at your presence, keeping still as he repsonded.
“I wasn’t-“
“You’ll crush her.”, you continued, stalking closer to lightly slap his back.
“I wasn’t gonna fall asleep.”, he repeated, chuckling as you tried to drag him off the mattress in vain. “You’re waking her.”
You stopped abruptly, faint memories of a crying baby fogging your mind. You wanted to play with her and woke her up a few months ago— the type of mistake you only make once.
Humin wiggled his brows at you as he looked over his shoulder to take in your face expression.
Carefully you went over to the other side, sliding your hands under the tiny body before lifting her up, setting her down into her bed with the delicacy like you were handling porcellain.
As you turned around, Humin’s lips were curled into a smile, eyes sparkling in awe as he looked at you.
“What?”, you asked through a shoulder shrug, biting your lip to keep quiet as he pulled you on the mattress next to him.
“Let’s sleep here tonight.”, he proposed, draping a heavy arm around your chest to make you immobile.
“She’s not sick, though.”, you argued, earning a scoff from Humin. “Yeah, she is.”
You didn’t argue back, letting him drape the blanket over you both as you barley fit into the bed together, snuggling up into each other until you fell asleep to one another’s heartbeat.
a/n: this is sooo cheesy, I think I just fell in love with this character all over again
can we have established relationship with baku? and a scene where the reader was put in a dangerous situation when baku was distancing himself while he was in union?
EUJANG'S MONSTER;phm
Park Humin x Reader
Warnings: Distant relationship, curse words, description of violence.
NOTE: Hey! sorry for the late response, i hope you like it!!
Your phone screen lit up for the umpteenth time that night, but it wasn't what you were hoping for. It was a notification from a food delivery app, not a message from Humin.
You sighed, tossing your phone onto the bed in frustration.
You’d been dating for almost a year. At first, everything was a mess, but it was fun. Baku was... Baku.
Sleepy, boisterous, a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he was always there. If you were cold, he gave you his jacket. If someone bothered you, that someone ended up with a punch to the face.
But ever since he joined the "Union," things had changed.
Na Baekjin wasn't a leader who gave much time off. And Baku, being the "King" of Eunjang and now a key piece in the organization, was always busy.
"I'm doing this so we can have some peace," he had told you the last time you saw him, four days ago. "If I control this, no one will mess with us."
The problem was that, in order to "protect us," he had disappeared.
There were no more tteokbokki dates. No more afternoons playing video games at his place. There were only short messages: "I'm busy," "I'm running late," "I can't make it, let's go out another day."
You felt like a ghost's girlfriend.
You looked at the clock. 11:30 PM.
Your stomach rumbled. You hadn't eaten dinner, waiting to see if he’d deign to show up, but it was clear today wasn't going to be the day either.
Frustration mixed with hunger and anger. "Screw it, Park Humin," you muttered, getting out of bed.
You put on an oversized gray hoodie—ironically, one he had left the last time he was at your place almost two weeks ago—and some comfy pants. You needed air. And you needed spicy instant ramen. Badly.
You left your apartment. The night air was cool, but not freezing. The streets in your neighborhood were relatively quiet, lit by the neon glow of promotional signs and yellowish streetlamps.
You walked toward the usual convenience store, the one three blocks away. While you walked, you checked your phone one more time.
"Going to the store, let me know if you get home." (Sent 11:35 PM)
No reply. Not even left on "read."
You shoved the phone into your hoodie pocket with rage. Was it so hard to send an emoji? An "ok"? A "be careful"?
You got to the store, bought two cups of spicy ramen, a banana milk, and some chocolates. You sat at one of the plastic tables outside to eat.
The ramen burned, but the spice helped clear your mind. You watched a few cars pass by and drunk people stumbling out of distant bars.
"Should I break up with him?" you asked your cup of noodles.
It was a question haunting your mind. You loved Humin. God, you loved him so much. But this distance... this feeling of being the last priority on his gangster to-do list was slowly killing you.
You finished eating and threw away the trash. You felt a bit better, less empty.
You started walking back home. It was already 12:15 AM. The streets were lonelier now.
That was when you felt that prickle on the back of your neck.
Someone was walking behind you.
At first, you thought it was paranoia, but when you sped up, the footsteps behind you sped up too.
Your heart leaped into your throat. You weren't in the main Union zone; you lived in the border territory, an area where guys from other schools who hated Baekjin and the Eunjang crew sometimes sneaked in.
You turned a corner, hoping to lose them.
Bad idea.
The street was cut off by construction work. It was a dead end right now.
You spun around quickly to go back, but three figures blocked the alley entrance.
"Well, well... look who we have here..." one of them said. He was wearing a southern technical school uniform, unbuttoned and dirty. They smelled like cheap cigarettes and alcohol.
"Isn't this the Eunjang King's girl?" asked the second one, a skinny guy with a rat face who looked at you in a way that made you feel instantly filthy.
Your blood ran cold.
That was the cruel irony of your situation.
Baku had distanced himself to "protect" you, so his problems wouldn't be yours. But by being his girlfriend, you had a target on your back that screamed, "Look at me, I'm the girlfriend of the asshole you hate." And now that he wasn't by your side, that target shone brighter than ever.
"I don't know what you're talking about..." you said, trying to keep your voice from trembling. You took a step back. "Let me pass."
"Pass?" The third one, the biggest, laughed and spat on the ground. "We've been wanting to send a message to the 'King of Eunjang' for weeks. But that bastard never shows up..."
He took a step toward you.
"But you... you appeared right in front of us..."
Panic exploded in your chest. You shoved your hand into your hoodie pocket, searching for your phone. Your fingers were shaking so hard you almost dropped it.
"If you come any closer, I'm calling the police!" you screamed.
"Call whoever you want, sweetheart." The skinny guy lunged at you and grabbed your wrist before you could unlock the screen.
"Let me go!"
You thrashed hard, kicking him in the leg. The guy groaned and let go for a second. You took the chance to run toward the only open gap, but the big guy grabbed you by your hood and yanked you back violently.
You fell onto the concrete floor, scraping your palms and calves. Your phone went flying and landed a couple of meters away, screen lit up.
"Damn bitch!" the skinny one growled, rubbing his leg. "Now you're really going to regret that."
You crawled backward until your back hit some sacks of cement from the construction site. You were cornered.
"We're going to take some pictures with you," the leader said, pulling out his own phone. "And we're going to send them to Baku. Let's see if he's still so arrogant when he sees his girlfriend crying."
"Get away!" you screamed, even though you knew they wouldn't listen. "Get away from me!"
The big guy crouched down and grabbed your face with a rough hand, squeezing your cheeks.
"Scream louder. No one is coming. Your boyfriend is too busy playing gangster. He left you all alone, didn't he?"
Tears started falling down your face. They were right. He had left you alone.
The skinny guy grabbed your arms to pin you down while the other one prepared to... whatever he had in mind.
You closed your eyes, waiting for the blow, waiting for the pain.
And then, it rang out.
It wasn't a police siren. It was a sound much more terrifying and, at the same time, the most beautiful sound in the world.
It was the sound of a bone breaking.
And then, an agonized scream.
You opened your eyes.
The guy who was holding the phone to take the picture was no longer standing. He was against the opposite wall as if he’d been hit by a truck. He smashed into the bricks and slumped down unconscious.
At the alley entrance, under the flickering light of the streetlamp, stood a silhouette.
He was wearing a white t-shirt, hands in his pockets, and his hair was a bit messy.
"Hey..." His voice was low, slurred, as if he had just woken up from a nap. But there was an edge to it that made the other two guys freeze. "You guys are being really loud."
It was Baku.
But it wasn't the Baku who smiled at you and stole kisses whenever you walked together. It was the Baku everyone feared.
The Monster of Eunjang.
"B-Baku!" the big guy stammered, letting go of your face as if it burned.
Park Humin walked toward them slowly. He didn't run. He didn't look worried. He looked... bored. And that made him a thousand times more terrifying.
He stopped two meters away from you all. His dark eyes scanned the scene. He saw your scraped knees. He saw your bleeding hands. He saw the tears on your face. And he saw the guy's hand still near your arm.
The indifference vanished.
His expression changed to one of pure, absolute, and terrifying fury.
"Get your dirty hands off my girlfriend," he whispered.
The skinny guy tried to pull out a knife.
"Don't come any closer! I'm going to—!"
He didn't finish the sentence. Baku moved with inhuman speed. Before you could blink, Baku's fist connected directly with the skinny guy's nose. The sound was wet and crunchy. The guy fell to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the cement.
The big one was left. The leader. He was shaking.
"Wait! We were just playing!" he yelled, backing away. "We didn't know that—!"
"Didn't know what?" Baku tilted his head. "Didn't know what? Didn't know that if you touch my girlfriend, you get a beating?"
Baku delivered a kick to his stomach that knocked all the air out of him. The guy doubled over. Then, Baku grabbed his head and slammed a knee into his face. The guy fell next to his friends.
Three against one. And it had lasted less than thirty seconds.
Silence returned to the alley, broken only by the groans of pain from the guys on the ground.
Baku stood there for a moment, breathing a bit heavily, his knuckles stained with blood that wasn't his. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back, and turned toward you.
You were still on the ground, trembling, in shock.
He ran to you and dropped to his knees, ignoring the dirt on the floor.
"..." His voice was no longer that of the monster everyone feared. It was your boyfriend's. Full of panic. ", look at me. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?"
He touched your face with shaking hands, checking you frantically.
"Humin..." you sobbed, throwing yourself into his arms.
He caught you, hugging you so tight he almost squeezed the air out of your lungs, but you needed to feel that to know you weren't dreaming and that he was really there.
You buried your face in his neck, smelling his cologne mixed with sweat.
"I'm sorry... shit, I'm so sorry..." he murmured against your hair, kissing your head over and over. "I was late. I'm an idiot."
You pulled back a little, still crying.
"You didn't answer!" you screamed at him, hitting his chest weakly. "I texted you all week! And you couldn't answer a single one, you idiot!"
Baku looked at you, and you saw something you'd never seen in him: guilt. A devastating guilt that made you feel guilty yourself for yelling at him like that.
"Baekjin ordered us to turn off our phones." He took your scraped hands and kissed them, not caring about the blood. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, I'm sorry I didn't answer the messages..."
He looked at the guys lying on the ground with renewed hatred.
"I'm going to kill them... I swear I'm going to wake these bastards up and kill them one by one for touching you."
He made a move to get up, but you grabbed his shirt.
"No!" you begged. "No, Humin. Let's go. Please. I just want to go home..."
Baku stopped. He looked into your eyes, saw the terror you still held. He nodded slowly, swallowing his rage for your sake.
"Okay. We're leaving."
He crouched down, picked up your phone from the ground—the screen was cracked—and put it in his pocket. Then, without a word, he slipped one arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you up bridal style.
"I can walk..." you murmured.
"And I can carry you..." His tone allowed for no argument. "You hurt your knees. You don't have to walk."
You leaned against his chest, listening to his heart beat wildly.
"Where are we going?"
"To my place. It's empty..." Baku started walking, leaving the alley and leaving them behind. "No one's going to bother us there."
The ride was silent. Baku didn't let go of you for a second. He hailed a taxi and kept you on his lap the whole way, his arm around you like a barrier, glaring at anyone who dared to look in your direction.
You arrived at the apartment he had managed to rent with his new "job." It was a simple place, a bit messy as always, but it smelled like him. And best of all, his drunk father wasn't there screaming and demanding attention.
He took you to the bathroom and sat you on the closed toilet lid.
"I'm going to get the first aid kit," he said, and ran out.
He returned in a minute with a box of supplies and a damp towel. He knelt in front of you, between your legs.
With a gentleness that contrasted with the violence he had just unleashed, he started cleaning your knees with the towel.
"It's gonna sting a little," he warned softly.
You hissed when the antiseptic touched the raw skin. Baku stopped immediately and blew softly on the wound.
"Sorry, sorry..."
You looked at him. His brow was furrowed, focused on healing you as if it were the most important mission of his life. He looked tired. He had dark circles under his eyes. Life in the Union was wearing him down.
"Humin..." you said softly.
He looked up. His eyes met yours and filled with tears. Park Humin, the guy who never cried, had glassy eyes.
"I'm so sorry..." he whispered, his voice cracking. "If I had arrived a minute late... if they had weapons..."
He rested his head in your lap, hugging your waist. You felt his shoulders shaking.
"It's my fault." His voice came out muffled by your hoodie. "All of this. I pushed you away so you’d be safe. I thought if they didn't see me with you, if I focused on the Union work, you'd be safe. But I'm stupid. I left you alone. I left you exposed."
You stroked his soft hair, feeling your heart break for him.
"I was so mad at you..." you admitted. "I thought you didn't care anymore. That the Union was more important."
Baku snapped his head up.
"What?" He looked at you in horror. "How can you think that? The Union is shit. It's dirty work. You are... you are the only good thing I have. You're the only reason I put up with Baekjin and his bullshit."
He rose a bit and cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him.
"Listen to me closely, ____. There is nothing, absolutely nothing in this world more important than you. I stayed away because I was afraid you'd get hurt because of me. But I see I was an idiot. By staying away, I only put you in more danger and made you feel bad..."
He rested his forehead against yours.
"I'm not doing that again. Screw the Union. If I have to take you with me everywhere, I will. If I have to put Go Tak on bodyguard duty when I can't be there, I will. But I'm never leaving you alone again."
"Promise..." you whispered.
"I swear on my life." Baku kissed you.
It was a salty kiss from the tears, but full of desperation and love that left you breathless. His lips were soft, insistent. He kissed you as if he wanted to erase the memory of those guys, as if he wanted to remind you who you belonged to and who belonged to you.
When you pulled apart, both of you were panting a little.
"Let me finish fixing you up..." he said, returning to his task with your knees and hands.
When he finished, he put some colorful band-aids on you, which he claimed he bought because they were on sale. But you knew he did it because they were Iron Man ones.
"Done." He looked at you. "Hungry?"
You laughed a little, a nervous but relieved laugh.
"I already ate... I just want to sleep. A lot."
"Let's sleep then."
Baku took you to his bed. He lent you a clean t-shirt because your hoodie was dirty. He took off his sweaty shirt and stayed in sweatpants.
You lay down. Baku's bed was always full of pillows, which you always criticized because you didn't know how he could sleep like that, but it was always the most comfortable place in the world.
He pulled you into his chest, wrapping you in his strong, heavy arms. He threw a leg over yours, pinning you in a protective bear hug.
"Comfortable?" he asked against your ear.
"Yes."
"Does anything hurt?"
"No. I'm okay."
There was a moment of silence. You could feel his breathing slowing down, exhaustion overtaking him now that the adrenaline was fading.
"Humin..." you murmured.
"Mmm?"
"Those guys... They said they wanted to send you a message."
You felt him tense up for a second, but then he stroked your back to calm you.
"Don't worry about them anymore." His voice turned dark and serious for a moment. "Tomorrow I'll make sure everyone knows that if anyone looks at you wrong, all of Eunjang is going to come down on them. No one is ever going to touch you again, my love... Not while I'm with you."
He kissed the back of your neck.
"Now sleep... I'm sleepy too..."
You relaxed, closing your eyes. The fear was gone. You knew he would keep his word to take care of you. You knew that tomorrow, when you woke up, you’d have to talk more about how to manage his schedule, but for now, that didn't matter.
Park Humin was back. And this time, he wasn't planning to let go.
"I love you..." you whispered, half-asleep.
He let out a soft chuckle, that laugh that made you fall in love with him over and over again.
"I love you too. And forgive me for being an idiot."
