genre: FLUFF, pookie bear lovers, pairing: crush!woonhak x afab!reader wc: 690 warning: might be too sweet!! lmk if i forgot any !! you asked for it and i delivered (jk) listen: so let's go see the stars — boynextdoor
the summer heat settled over the small convenience store, the air thick with the familiar scent of instant ramen and cold soda. the hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, broken only by the occasional rustling of snack bags as you carefully restocked the shelves—by color, just the way woonhak used to.
it had become a habit now, one of the small ways you kept him close despite the miles stretching between you.
your phone, propped up on the counter, lit up with a message.
woonhak: just got out of class. my professor hates me i swear
you smiled, wiping your hands on your apron before typing back.
you: it’s because you talk too much
almost immediately, your phone buzzed again.
woonhak: wow. so mean. do you want me to suffer??woonhak: actually, don’t answer that.
you laughed, shaking your head. this was your routine now—him texting you the second he was free, sending you blurry selfies of him looking exhausted, random pictures of his university, or even just ranting about how unfair life was. and in return, you’d do the same—long messages about customers who annoyed you, the exact number of items you restocked that day, or how the store’s cat had finally let you pet it.
no one had ever said the words out loud, but it was there. in the way he made sure to call you before bed, even when he was exhausted. in the way you caught yourself waiting for his messages. in the way you both existed in each other’s worlds despite the distance.
today was the first day of summer.
you sighed, stretching your arms before grabbing a rag to wipe down the tables. just as you reached the last one, the glass door chimed—a sound you’d heard a thousand times before.
“welcome in,” you called out automatically, too focused on scrubbing away a stubborn stain to look up.
then, a familiar voice.
“you missed a spot.”
you froze.
your heart stuttered in your chest, your grip tightening around the rag. for a moment, you thought you had imagined it. that maybe, just maybe, the distance was finally making you hear things.
but then you turned.
and there he was.
woonhak. standing in the doorway, grinning like an idiot, his arms spread wide like he was waiting for you to launch yourself at him.
and you did.
the rag dropped to the floor as you ran straight into him, arms wrapping around his waist, burying your face into his shoulder. he smelled familiar—like laundry detergent and the faintest trace of his cologne, like home.
woonhak laughed, the sound vibrating against your cheek as he hugged you even tighter, lifting you slightly off the ground.
“missed me?” he teased, voice warm.
you hit his shoulder lightly, but didn’t let go. “obviously, you idiot.”
he chuckled, rocking you slightly. “good. because i was starting to think you replaced me with the store cat.”
“the cat hates me.”
“fair. but you still like me, right?”
you pulled back just enough to look at him, and the way he was smiling at you made your heart ache in the best way.
you rolled your eyes. “unfortunately.”
woonhak laughed again, his forehead bumping against yours. “guess i’ll have to make it up to you then.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.” he grinned, eyes twinkling. “so, let’s go see the stars.”
you blinked. “what?”
“come on.” he grabbed your wrist, tugging you toward the door. “close up early. let’s go somewhere.”
“woonhak, i can’t just leave—”
“sure you can.” he shot you a look, mischievous and familiar. “you’ve been working too much. i’m back, it’s summer, and i’m kidnapping you for the night. no arguments.”
you stared at him, the warmth of his hand wrapped around yours, the way he looked at you like he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had.
and then you smiled.
the laughter between you faded into something quieter, something softer. the weight of the moment settled in the air between you—unspoken, but undeniably there.
woonhak was still holding your wrist, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin. a touch so light, so fleeting, yet it sent warmth curling through your chest.
“let’s go,” he said again, gentler this time.
you hesitated, glancing toward the counter, the shelves, the quiet hum of the store that had become your second home. “but—”
“no buts.” he took a step closer, tilting his head slightly. “when was the last time you did something just because it made you happy?”
the question caught you off guard.
because the truth was, you couldn’t remember.
you sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused. “you’re really not going to let this go, are you?”
woonhak smirked. “nope.”
you rolled your eyes, but there was no real fight left in you. because the truth was, you wanted to go. you wanted to steal this night, to press pause on reality just for a little while.
“fine,” you mumbled, reaching behind the counter to grab your bag. “but if i get fired—”
“i’ll hire you at my dad’s store.”
you gave him a deadpan look. “woonhak, i already work at your dad’s store.”
he laughed, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the door. “then i’ll pay you in snacks.”
the two of you stepped out into the warm night air, the world stretching wide before you. woonhak’s car was parked just outside, and he opened the passenger door for you with a teasing bow. “your chariot awaits.”
you snorted, shoving him lightly before sliding in. he ran around to the driver’s side, and as soon as he started the car, the soft hum of music filled the space.
the city lights blurred past as he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming lightly against his thigh. you watched him out of the corner of your eye—the way his hair fell slightly over his forehead, the way his lips curled at the edges whenever he focused.
“where are we even going?” you asked eventually.
woonhak grinned, eyes still on the road. “you’ll see.”
the drive stretched on, the city giving way to quieter roads, open fields, the sky stretching endlessly above. the stars were beginning to appear, scattered like freckles against the darkening blue.
after what felt like forever, woonhak pulled over onto a small hill, the kind of place you only knew about if you spent your childhood sneaking out at night. he turned off the engine, the sudden quiet wrapping around you like a blanket.
“come on,” he said, already climbing out.
you followed, stepping onto the cool grass, the scent of summer thick in the air.
woonhak flopped onto the ground, patting the space beside him. “best seats in the house.”
you huffed but sat down anyway, stretching your legs out in front of you.
for a moment, neither of you spoke. the sky above was endless, the stars flickering like tiny promises.
“i used to come here all the time,” woonhak said suddenly. “whenever things felt too big. too much.”
you turned to look at him. his gaze was fixed on the sky, something wistful in his expression.
“and now?” you asked.
he finally met your eyes, something unreadable flickering in his own. “now i think i’d rather be here with you.”
your breath caught.
the words were simple, unembellished, but they settled deep in your chest.
you swallowed, trying to ignore the way your heart was practically throwing itself against your ribs. “you’re so dramatic.”
woonhak laughed, nudging your shoulder. “maybe. but i mean it.”
silence stretched between you again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. it was warm, comforting.
then, he reached over, pinky brushing against yours. not quite holding your hand, but close enough to set your skin on fire.
you could have moved. could have pulled away, could have closed the space completely.
but you didn’t.
instead, you let your fingers curl just slightly, just enough for them to hook together.
and woonhak smiled.
and under the stars, with the summer air wrapping around you, you realized something—
this wasn’t just a fleeting moment.
this was something real. something yours. something you had been waiting for all along.
genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, suggestive themes pairing: underground boxer!taesan x afab!reader wc: 1153 warning: mentions of physical violence, blood/injuries (cuts, bruises, stitches), emotional distress, fear of loss, mild codependency themes, hurt/comfort dynamic listen: no. 1 party anthem — arctic monkeys
it always starts the same way.
a knock at the door — not loud, not urgent, just... familiar. three soft taps, spaced apart, like he’s giving you time to prepare for what you’ll see when you open it.
you never are.
you swing the door open and there he is — bruised, bleeding, barely standing. he tries to smile, but it tugs at a split lip, and you immediately step aside to let him in, your heart slamming against your ribs like it wants to escape the moment before it breaks.
“don’t say anything yet,” he says, voice rough. “let me shower. i’ll be easier to look at after.”
you don't answer. you just nod, throat tight, and grab a towel while he drags himself toward the bathroom.
you hate this part — the waiting. the sound of the water running as it washes away blood you didn’t get a chance to clean. the way your hands shake as you lay out gauze and antiseptic and stitch kits like it’s routine. like you haven’t cried over this exact setup more times than you can count.
he steps out fifteen minutes later, hair dripping, body clean but riddled with fresh bruises. a deep purple welt blooms across his ribs, and there’s a long, angry gash above his eyebrow that still seeps a little blood. he's got a towel around his waist and tired eyes locked on yours.
“sit,” you say, voice flat, pointing to the bathroom counter. you’re too tired to yell. too scared to fall apart.
he obeys.
you press a clean cloth to his wound, just a little too firmly. he winces but doesn’t move away.
“you’re gonna get yourself killed one day,” you say. your voice comes out quieter than you meant it to. smaller.
“i’ve had worse,” he mutters.
your hands freeze.
"that’s not the point, tae.”
he sighs. “i know.”
“no, you don’t. because if you did, you wouldn’t keep doing this. you wouldn’t come home every other night with new wounds and old ones ripped open again. you wouldn’t keep making me wonder if the next time the door knocks... it’ll be someone else telling me you didn’t make it.”
the words hang heavy in the air, thick and shaking. he stays silent.
you bite the inside of your cheek to stop it from trembling. you dab at his brow, slower this time, careful. “you don’t have to break yourself to be enough.”
he looks down at his hands. his knuckles are torn open — fresh from tonight. “it’s all i know. fighting… it gives me something. i feel like myself in the ring. it’s the only place i know who i am.”
“and who are you when you’re not bleeding?”
he looks up, startled by your question.
you’re not angry anymore. just aching. tired in a way that sleep won’t fix.
“when you’re here,” you say, voice soft, “with me… who are you then?”
he stares at you, chest rising and falling unevenly. “i’m yours.”
you nod slowly. “then act like it. stay. stop choosing pain over peace. stop making me watch you fall apart just so you can feel whole for a few minutes in a ring.”
“i can’t just walk away from it—”
“i’m not asking you to quit,” you say quickly. “i’m asking you to survive.”
he looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn't. instead, he lets you tend to him — your fingers gentle now as you clean the gash and close it with small, precise stitches. you dab antiseptic over his knuckles, wrap them carefully, and by the time you’re done, your hands have stopped shaking.
but your heart hasn’t.
“you don’t have to do this alone,” you whisper, more to yourself than him. “you don’t have to keep hurting just to prove something.”
his hand reaches out, shaky and hesitant, and finds yours.
“i’m scared,” he admits.
“of what?”
“of being nothing if i’m not fighting.”
you step between his legs, cradle his jaw with both hands, and lean your forehead against his. “you’ll never be nothing. not to me.”
he pulls you into him like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. your arms wrap around his neck as his settle on your waist, and suddenly it’s too much — the fear, the relief, the way he still smells like blood and sweat and safety.
you kiss him — soft, slow, like you're stitching him back together with your lips. it’s not rushed, not desperate, just… tender. the kind of kiss that says i see you. all of you. and i’m still here.
your lips brush against his once, twice, a gentle question, and when he kisses you back, it’s like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. like he’s been starved for something only you can give. his hands tighten at your waist, not to pull you closer — you’re already as close as you can be — but to ground himself, like the feel of you is the only thing tethering him to this world.
his breath shudders against your cheek, and your thumb traces the line of his jaw, careful not to press against any bruises. his skin is warm beneath your fingers, flushed from the shower, from the fight, from you.
you feel it in the way his lips linger — how they tremble just a little when you deepen the kiss, how he sighs softly into your mouth like he’s finally letting go of everything he’s been holding in.
your fingers slide into his hair, still damp, and he tilts his head just enough for the kiss to deepen, mouths moving together in a quiet, aching rhythm. it’s not about passion, not really — it’s about presence. about showing him that he’s more than the blood, the pain, the fight.
when you pull back, just a breath away, his forehead stays pressed to yours. his eyes are closed, lashes damp, and he looks so young like this. like the boy underneath all the bruises is still learning how to be loved.
you press another kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then the cut above his brow. “you’re okay,” you whisper between each kiss. “you’re here. you’re home.”
his hands cup your face then, rough knuckles brushing your skin so delicately it makes your chest ache. he opens his eyes and looks at you like he’s never seen you before — or maybe like he’s finally seeing you the way you’ve always seen him.
“don’t go,” he whispers.
you lean in again, pressing your lips to his in an answer. slow, certain, full of every silent promise you’ve ever made him.
“i’m not going anywhere,” you breathe. “not as long as you keep coming back to me.”
and in that moment, with bruises still darkening and your hands still stained from cleaning his wounds, he feels whole — not because he’s healed, but because you’ve made space for every broken part of him.
genre: its leehan, ofc its FLUFF, friends to lovers trope, loud leehan !! attempt on golden retriever x black cat trope pairing: friend!leehan x afab!reader wc: 3950 warning: chaotic, lame jokes, hmm lmk if i forgot anything !! listen: apple cider — beabadoobee, perfect pair — beabadoobee
you never really noticed leehan before.
sure, you knew he was part of your friend group. you knew he was the loud one, the one who somehow had endless energy no matter how late you all stayed out. you knew he had a laugh that made everyone else laugh with him, even if they had no idea what was funny. but beyond that? nothing. you never had a reason to talk to him, and you never thought about changing that.
it wasn’t like you were avoiding him—there was just never a need. every gathering, every hangout, every chaotic group chat interaction, leehan was just there. always talking to someone else, always laughing at something stupid, always moving from one conversation to another like he physically couldn’t sit still.
and you? you preferred to stay on the sidelines. observing, commenting only when necessary, giving rei and eunchae unimpressed looks whenever leehan did something particularly dumb, which was often.
like the time he tried to balance three cups of bubble tea in one hand while dramatically reenacting some anime fight scene with woonhak. predictably, all three drinks ended up on the floor.
“dude,” jaehyun had sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “this is why we can’t take you anywhere.”
“no regrets,” leehan had declared, completely unbothered as he wiped milk tea off his sleeve. “the scene was worth it.”
or the time he climbed onto a shopping cart in the middle of a parking lot, insisting that sungho push him at full speed.
“this is a terrible idea,” you had muttered to rei.
“he’s going to break something,” rei had agreed.
both of you had been correct. he crashed into a curb ten seconds later, and you had simply stepped over his sprawled-out form on the pavement, unimpressed.
“so dramatic,” you had muttered as you passed.
“so heartless,” he had groaned in response.
but despite all of that, you had never actually spoken to him. not directly. not one-on-one. you existed in the same space, floated around the same conversations, but your worlds never really collided.
and you thought that was how it would always be.
until tonight.
it started with a simple realization—both of you were leaving jaehyun’s house at the same time. you wouldn’t have thought much of it, except that when you turned the corner, leehan was still there. walking in the same direction. with you.
but before that, the night had been nothing short of chaos.
jaehyun’s parties were always like this—loud, messy, and somehow both the best and worst decision at the same time. the living room was packed, music loud enough to shake the floors, and the friend group was scattered across the house, each involved in their own brand of mayhem.
wonyoung and eunchae were doing dramatic reenactments of k-drama confession scenes on the couch, taking turns being the heartbroken lead. rei was recording them, hyping up their performances while sungho kept yelling, “oscar-worthy! pure art!”
meanwhile, taesan and woonhak had somehow started an impromptu dance battle, with jaehyun acting as the referee. leehan, true to his nature, was right in the middle of it all—hyping them up, throwing in ridiculous dance moves of his own, and laughing so hard he nearly fell over.
“i don’t know whether to be amazed or horrified,” you muttered, watching as leehan attempted to moonwalk but somehow ended up looking like a malfunctioning robot.
rei, standing next to you, snorted. “knowing him? both.”
at some point, someone suggested a game of truth or dare, which quickly devolved into chaos. woonhak ended up wearing a ridiculous hat made out of plastic cups, jaehyun was dared to text his professor something absolutely unhinged (thankfully unsent at the last second), and leehan?
leehan, of course, had to take things up a notch.
“i dare you to confess to the person you find most attractive here,” woonhak smirked, clearly expecting chaos.
leehan didn’t even hesitate.
he turned, dramatically sweeping his hair back, and locked eyes with you.
“you,” he declared, pointing directly at you.
silence.
then, laughter exploded around the room as everyone hooted and cheered, assuming it was a joke. you, however, just blinked at him, unimpressed.
“you’re not funny.”
“no, but i am committed to the bit,” he shot back, grinning. “also, you should feel honored.”
“oh, so honored,” you deadpanned.
somehow, between all the chaos and ridiculousness, time flew by, and soon enough, people started heading out. and that’s when you found yourself in this situation—leaving at the exact same time as leehan. you wouldn’t have thought much of it, except that when you turned the corner, leehan was still there. walking in the same direction. with you.
and then he kept walking. and walking. through the same streets. past the same convenience stores. down the same subway stairs.
you eyed him suspiciously as you both tapped your train cards in sync. leehan, however, just looked amused.
“are you following me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“i could say the same thing to you.”
he let out a laugh, light and easy. “guess we just have the same route home.”
you hummed, unconvinced. but then, as the train arrived and you both stepped into the same car—then sat in the same row—your skepticism turned into sheer disbelief.
“you have got to be kidding me.”
leehan grinned, resting his chin in his hand. “this is kinda funny, though.”
“no, it’s weird,” you deadpanned.
“or maybe it’s fate.”
“don’t push it.”
but then it got weirder. because when you both got off at the same stop and started walking again—this time in perfect sync—it became undeniable. when you reached your apartment building, you could only stare as leehan casually pulled out his key.
“wait. you live here?”
leehan laughed, unlocking the front door. “you sound so horrified. yeah, i live here.”
“since when?”
“for, like, a year?”
you groaned, running a hand through your hair. “this is insane. i have never—not once—seen you here.”
leehan just shrugged. “guess we were never meant to meet. until now.”
“that’s actually creepy.”
he shot you a playful glare. “you’re ruining the moment.”
and just like that, it started. what was supposed to be a one-time coincidence turned into an unspoken routine. you and leehan started walking home together. started taking the train together. started stopping by the convenience store for late-night snacks, where he’d insist on paying even when you threatened to strangle him with a pack of ramen.
“leehan, put the card down.”
“why? i like treating my friends.”
“okay, but i don’t like being treated.”
“that sounds like a you problem,” he said, successfully tapping his card before you could stop him.
you huffed, grabbing your drink from the counter and stomping out of the store. leehan followed, barely suppressing a laugh.
“you’re so dramatic.”
“and you’re an idiot.”
“an idiot who just paid for your snacks.”
somehow, someway, you became friends.
which, apparently, was the most shocking thing to everyone else.
“you and leehan?” wonyoung had stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “you guys are friends now?”
rei had been even more dramatic, clutching her chest like she was about to faint. “the walking golden retriever and the resident black cat? unbelievable.”
“it’s not that weird,” you muttered, stabbing at your lunch with your chopsticks.
“no, it is,” taesan confirmed, shoving a chip into his mouth. “leehan gets along with everyone, but you? you don’t just ‘get along’ with people. you tolerate them.”
“thanks for that.”
“anytime.”
sungho narrowed his eyes. “wait, so you guys really hang out? like, outside of group stuff?”
rei gasped. “wait, wait, wait. have you ever laughed at his jokes?”
you rolled your eyes. “i’m not heartless.”
“so that’s a yes,” woonhak smirked. “wow. history is being made.”
leehan, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered. “you guys act like i tamed a wild animal or something.”
jaehyun nodded. “because you kind of did.”
“seriously, though,” eunchae piped up, eyes gleaming with interest. “do you guys ever, like, talk? or is it just comfortable silence?”
“both,” leehan answered easily, nudging your side. “sometimes she lets me ramble about random stuff. sometimes we just exist in peace.”
rei leaned forward. “and you actually enjoy that?”
leehan just grinned. “it’s okay. i like black cats.”
“it’s okay. i like black cats.”
.
.
.
“it’s okay. i like black cats.”....
.
.
.
“it’s okay. i like black cats.”
this shouldn't bother you, right? at least, that's what you’ve been telling yourself for the past 10 minutes… no, 20 minutes, as you stared at yourself in the mirror. face flushed, red as a tomato.
it was stupid. it was just leehan being leehan—annoyingly charming without even trying. he probably forgot he even said it. meanwhile, you were standing here, gripping the edges of the sink like it had personally wronged you.
“this is stupid. get yourself together,” you muttered, lightly smacking your own cheeks before splashing cold water on your cheeks, as if that would help.
except it didn’t. because the moment you stepped out of your room, your phone buzzed with a message from leehan.
[leehan]: convenience store run?
you stared at the text for a solid five seconds. you could ignore him. pretend you were already in bed. but your feet were already moving before you could think twice.
[you]: fine. be outside in 5.
when you got downstairs, leehan was already there, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, a familiar grin on his face. “you’re five minutes early.”
“i like to be efficient,” you mumbled, walking past him toward the store.
he fell into step beside you, chuckling. “so efficient that you took twenty minutes to text me back?”
“i was busy.”
“busy staring at yourself in the mirror?”
you stopped in your tracks, whipping around. “excuse me?”
leehan blinked innocently. “what? i just figured, you know, considering how red you were earlier—”
“shut up.” you picked up your pace, pretending your face wasn’t burning again.
leehan laughed, easily catching up. “you’re fun to tease.”
“i hate you.”
“no, you don’t.”
unfortunately, he was right.
at the store, you went straight for the snack aisle, grabbing a bag of chips and your usual drink. leehan, as always, hovered behind you, dramatically inspecting his options.
“hmm,” he mused, holding up two different ice cream flavors. “do i want strawberry or mint choco?”
“strawberry.”
he gasped. “wow, no hesitation.”
“because mint choco is disgusting.”
he clutched the mint choco to his chest, looking genuinely wounded. “you wound me.”
“good.”
leehan pouted before tossing both ice creams into the basket. “guess i’ll have to get both, then.”
“or you could just make a better life choice.”
“this is a personal attack.”
the next day, the unspoken routine continued as if nothing had changed. but you swore leehan was watching you a little too closely when you met at the station.
“you look extra grumpy today,” he commented, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. as usual.
“thanks,” you deadpanned.
he grinned but didn’t push further. instead, he just walked beside you, the easy rhythm of your steps falling into sync like always.
as usual, you stopped by the convenience store. but this time, something felt different. you blamed it on last night’s stupid moment, on the way your brain kept replaying his words like a broken record. because suddenly, standing next to leehan under the fluorescent lights, everything felt… hyper-aware.
“what do you want?” he asked, already reaching for his wallet.
“i can pay for myself,” you said, shooting him a glare.
“yeah, yeah.” he waved you off and grabbed a basket, throwing in his usual snacks. then, without thinking, he plucked a carton of banana milk from the shelf and tossed it in too.
you blinked. “why are you getting that?”
he looked at you like you were asking something obvious. “because you always get banana milk.”
you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. because—oh. he noticed?
“stop looking at me like that,” he teased, nudging you with his elbow. “it’s just banana milk.”
except it wasn’t. not really. it was something small, something dumb, but it still sent your heart into a quiet little panic.
this was bad.
this was really, really bad.
because of the fact that you kind of liked it.
which was a problem.
—
jaehyun’s house was packed again, music thrumming through the walls, the air thick with the scent of food, alcohol, and too many people crammed into one space. you weren’t even sure what the occasion was this time. knowing jaehyun, he probably just felt like throwing a party for no reason.
you had just arrived, barely setting foot in the living room, when wonyoung and rei ambushed you.
“oh my god, look who finally decided to show up!” wonyoung beamed, linking her arm with yours. “and here i thought you’d become too busy with your new best friend to hang out with us.”
rei snickered. “right? they’re practically attached at the hip now.”
you rolled your eyes, shaking them off. “not this again.”
“you’re not denying it, though,” taesan said, popping up from behind you with a knowing grin.
before you could snap at him, your eyes caught sight of leehan on the other side of the room, laughing at something jaehyun had said.
your stomach did something weird. you ignored it.
jaehyun noticed you staring and smirked. “hey, look who’s here.”
leehan turned his head, his eyes immediately finding yours.
and then—he winked.
you nearly choked on air.
rei and wonyoung let out a synchronized ooooh.
“okay, you guys are insufferable,” you muttered, heading straight for the kitchen, desperate for something—anything—to distract yourself.
but leehan was fast. before you could grab a drink, he was suddenly beside you, leaning against the counter like he hadn’t just almost made you collapse five seconds ago.
“you’re late,” he said.
“and you’re annoying,” you replied, popping open a soda.
leehan just grinned, stealing the drink right from your hand and taking a sip.
“hey—”
“mmm, refreshing,” he sighed dramatically, handing it back to you with an infuriatingly smug look.
you narrowed your eyes. “i should poison you.”
“aww, you’d miss me.”
“debatable.”
you took a sip from the same can, too caught up in glaring at him to realize what you’d done. but the second you did—when you felt the ghost of his lips on the rim—you nearly dropped it.
leehan saw your reaction, and that stupid grin of his widened.
“oh?” he teased. “flustered?”
“shut up.”
“you totally are.”
you needed to get out of here. fast.
but as the night went on, escaping leehan became impossible. somehow, he was everywhere—pulling you into games, making sure you were on his team during random challenges, always finding some way to be in your space.
it didn’t help that the others were having the time of their lives watching it unfold.
“oh, come on, just admit it,” jaehyun said at one point, slinging an arm around leehan’s shoulder. “you two have something going on.”
“yeah, it’s called friendship,” you deadpanned.
“nah,” taesan interjected. “i’ve never seen leehan act this way with anyone else.”
rei nodded enthusiastically. “he literally follows you around like a puppy.”
wonyoung gasped. “oh my god, he’s a golden retriever boyfriend in the making.”
leehan, unbothered, just nudged you playfully. “see? i told you i like black cats.”
you ignored the way your face burned.
—
later that night, after hours of pretending everything was fine, you finally managed to slip away from the chaos. you grabbed your jacket, heading for the door.
and then, right on cue, leehan appeared beside you.
“leaving already?”
“yeah,” you muttered.
“i’ll walk with you.”
you frowned. “aren’t you staying over at jaehyun’s?”
he shrugged. “changed my mind.”
you eyed him suspiciously but didn’t argue. and so, just like last time, you left together.
and this time, as you stepped out into the quiet night, something had shifted.
the walk back to your building was different this time. quieter. more charged.
a few months ago, leehan had been just another name in the friend group, a background character in your life who never had any real reason to cross paths with you. but now? now he was walking beside you like he had always belonged there, his presence as familiar as the crisp night air wrapping around your skin.
and maybe he did belong there.
you weren’t sure when it had happened—when he’d started showing up in your thoughts even when he wasn’t around, when the stupid things he said began lingering in your head longer than they should. you weren’t even sure when the sound of his laugh had become something you liked hearing, or when the way he looked at you started making your chest feel too tight.
but it had happened. somewhere between the teasing, the ridiculous dares, the way he always seemed to be near you even when he didn’t have to be—it had happened.
and now you were here, walking home together, fingers grazing every few steps.
you pretended not to notice. he pretended not to, either.
but you both did.
the city hummed around you, neon signs flickering in the distance, the occasional car passing by. it was late enough that the usual bustle of the streets had quieted down, leaving just the two of you and the rhythmic sound of your footsteps on the pavement.
you reached your building, stepping toward the entrance, but then—
leehan stopped walking.
you turned to him, brow raised. “what?”
he looked... different. not in the usual smug, teasing way. he was shifting his weight slightly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, his gaze flickering between you and the ground like he was debating something.
and then—
“…do you want to come over?”
you blinked.
“…huh?”
his ears were turning red. red.
he cleared his throat. “w-we can, uh… eat? and have a movie marathon?” his words came out rushed, like he was afraid he’d forget them if he didn’t say them fast enough. “o-or, uh… i don’t know, whatever you’d love to do. online games?”
your lips parted slightly, caught off guard. leehan—confident, annoying, always-has-a-snarky-response leehan—was nervous.
nervous about you.
his fingers curled inside his sleeves, his usual teasing grin nowhere to be found.
and that was when it hit you. the way he always found you in a room. the way his insults had softened into something closer to fondness. the way he never actually seemed to mind when you called him annoying.
he had been holding back.
and maybe, just maybe—you had been, too.
you took a step closer, tilting your head. “leehan.”
his throat bobbed. “yeah?”
your lips twitched into a smirk. “silly, of course i’d love to come over.”
before he could fully process your words, you grabbed his wrist and tugged him toward the entrance of the building.
“and while we’re at it, we’ll talk about how we don’t like each other that much.”
leehan let out a strangled noise. “huh—wait—”
you ignored him, swiftly entering his passcode like it was your apartment, pushing open the door. “hurry up, we’re wasting time.”
he stood frozen for a second, blinking at you, before breaking into a wide grin, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re unbelievable.”
“unfortunately.”
you plopped onto his couch like you lived there, grabbing the remote, already scrolling through movie options. leehan sat beside you, close—closer than usual.
and this time, neither of you pretended to ignore it.
the movie played in the background, its soft glow casting flickering shadows across the dimly lit room. but neither of you were watching. not really.
leehan sat beside you, slightly tense, like he was aware—of the space between you, of the way your knees brushed when you shifted, of the fact that this wasn’t just another night hanging out. this was something else.
you, on the other hand, acted as if everything was normal. because if you thought too much, if you acknowledged the weight in the air, you weren’t sure what you’d do.
but leehan was staring. you could feel it.
“if you keep looking at me like that, i might start thinking you actually like me,” you muttered, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between you.
leehan didn’t even flinch. “what if i do?”
you paused mid-chew.
slowly, you turned to him, raising a brow. “what?”
his expression was unreadable, but his fingers tapped absently against his knee, a nervous habit you’d only recently started noticing.
he inhaled, exhaled, then shrugged. “just saying. maybe i do.”
you stared at him, waiting for the punchline. some stupid joke, a teasing smirk—something to make it feel less like he was turning your entire world upside down.
but nothing came.
he just looked at you, quiet and steady, like he’d already made peace with whatever was about to happen next.
and suddenly, all those months of playful arguments, of lingering glances, of almost-but-not-quite moments came rushing back at once.
you hated him. except, you didn’t.
“you’re messing with me,” you said finally, but your voice lacked the usual bite.
leehan shook his head. “nope.”
“…seriously?”
“seriously.”
your heart was doing something weird. like a stuttering engine, skipping beats it wasn’t supposed to.
you scoffed, trying to mask it. “wow. what a plot twist.”
“right?” leehan hummed, leaning back into the couch. “who would’ve thought? me, liking you.”
“so tragic.”
“a real disaster.”
but despite the words, despite the banter, neither of you laughed.
you could still feel his gaze, waiting... waiting for you to say something.
but what were you supposed to say?
that your heart had been beating like this for weeks now? that you had started looking for him in every room before you even realized it? that you kind of liked being the first person he teased, the first person he looked at when something funny happened, the first person he always, always sat next to?
ugh.
this was so unfair.
so, instead of answering, instead of dealing with the mess he’d just dumped into your lap, you grabbed a handful of popcorn and threw it at him.
leehan blinked. “…seriously?”
“seriously.”
a beat of silence.
then, he smirked. “oh, you’re so dead.”
before you could react, he grabbed a pillow and launched it at you, knocking you back against the couch.
“leehan!” you shrieked, throwing another handful of popcorn in retaliation.
what followed was a full-blown war; popcorn flying, pillows swinging, laughter filling the small space between you. the movie played on, forgotten, as you both devolved into something ridiculous and childish and stupidly happy.
somewhere between dodging an incoming pillow and trying to wrestle the remote from leehan’s grasp, you tumbled forward, colliding into him—too close, too warm, too real.
your breath caught.
so did his.
neither of you moved.
his hand was still wrapped around your wrist. your knees were pressed against his. your face was this close to his, close enough to see the way his lips parted, just slightly.
the teasing, the laughter, the noise...it all faded.
for a second, the world stilled.
“…you’re not gonna hit me again, are you?” leehan murmured, voice quieter than before.
“depends,” you said, but it came out softer than you meant it to.
his gaze flickered down, just for a split second.
then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. “you like me.”
you scoffed, pulling back. “delusional.”
“you so do.”
“good night, leehan.”
“admit it.”
you grabbed a pillow and threw it at him again before standing up. “sleep well, best friend.”
“oh my god.”
“bye.”
leehan’s laughter followed you as you walked toward the door, his voice light, teasing but different now. like he knew something you weren’t ready to admit yet.
and maybe he did.
either way, it didn’t matter.
because as you stepped out, your heart still racing, you realized—this wasn’t the end of something.
k.lh — things that your bf does that just make sense
genre: FLUFFFFF, self-indulged, i miss my crunch crunch cutieful patootie munchkin boop boop poopoo bear star *sobs* pairing: bf!leehan x afab!reader wc: 1152 warning: NONE, i jus love donghyun sm you won’t understand, i feel like crashing out last night *cries* listen: my love — paul mccartney
loving leehan feels like warmth-like quiet gestures, soft smiles, and the little things he does without thinking. he doesn’t just say he loves you; he shows it, in all the ways that matter.
— always makes sure you're warm
it’s late at night, and you’re curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone. you don’t even realize that the blanket has slipped off your shoulders until you feel the familiar warmth of it being draped back over you. leehan doesn’t say a word, just tucks the fabric around you carefully, making sure it covers your feet too.
he sits beside you, letting his arm rest behind you on the couch, fingers lightly tracing patterns along your back. “you always forget,” he murmurs, amusement laced in his voice.
you glance up at him, already feeling sleepier under the newfound warmth. “that’s why i have you,” you mumble, leaning into his side.
he smiles, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “always.”
— listens to you even when you think he’s not
weeks ago, you had offhandedly mentioned a bakery you wanted to visit. you never brought it up again, not even thinking leehan would remember. but now, you’re standing right in front of it, your fingers intertwined with his as he grins down at you.
“surprise,” he says, nudging you toward the entrance.
you blink, a little stunned. “wait… you remembered?”
he squeezes your hand like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “of course. you looked so excited talking about it. figured we had to come.”
your heart swells, and before you can stop yourself, you throw your arms around him, hugging him tight. he chuckles, easily wrapping his arms around your waist. “thank you,” you whisper into his shoulder.
he tilts his head, lips brushing against your ear. “anything for you.”
— gives you the last bite
you’re both sharing a slice of cake, forks clinking softly against the plate. it’s your favorite kind, and leehan loves it too, which is why you’re extra aware when there’s only one bite left. you glance at him, ready to offer it, but before you can say anything, he pushes the last bite toward you with a small smile.
“you have it,” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
you frown. “but you like this.”
he shrugs, leaning his chin on his palm as he watches you. “yeah, but i like you more.”
your face heats up, and he just laughs, nudging your fork closer to your lips. “eat, love.” and you do—because how could you ever say no to him?
— knows when you're about to cry before you do
you’re staring at your laptop, blinking rapidly, willing yourself not to cry. the weight of the day is pressing down on you, frustration knotting in your chest. you don’t say anything, don’t even make a sound—but leehan notices. he always does.
he doesn’t ask what’s wrong. instead, he silently pulls you into his arms, his warmth wrapping around you like a shield. his hand finds your back, rubbing slow, comforting circles, and it’s all it takes for the dam to break.
“i got you,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice soft, steady.
you clutch onto him, letting the tears fall, and he just holds you—no questions, no rush. just him, just this, just the quiet understanding that he’ll always be there.
— waits for you to text that you got home safe
you say goodnight, part ways, but you know he’s not going to sleep until he gets your message. and true enough, the second you step inside your home, you send a quick, just got home!
his reply comes instantly. good. sleep well, love.
sometimes, when it’s late, he adds, call me before you sleep? just wanna hear your voice. and even though you’re tired, even though the day has drained you, you always call. because his voice feels like home, and there’s nothing more comforting than hearing him say, “rest well, baby. sweet dreams.”
— ties your shoelaces for you
you groan as you bend down to tie your sneaker, only for your fingers to fumble with the laces. before you can get frustrated, leehan is already crouching in front of you, hands gently pushing yours away.
“let me,” he says, his voice soft.
you watch as he carefully loops the laces into a neat bow, his brows furrowing in concentration. when he’s done, he looks up at you with a small smile. “all set.”
you shake your head, amusement flickering in your eyes. “you know i could’ve done that myself, right?”
he stands up, dusting off his jeans before reaching to brush your hair back. “i know. but i like taking care of you.”
your chest tightens in the best way, and all you can do is cup his face, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “you’re too sweet.”
he grins. “only for you.”
— carries your things without you having to ask
shopping bags, books, your water bottle—whatever it is, leehan always takes it from your hands before you even realize you need help.
“it’s heavy,” you protest when he swings your bag over his shoulder like it weighs nothing.
he just shrugs, looking completely unbothered. “not for me.”
you pout, reaching to take it back, but he smoothly dodges you, a teasing glint in his eyes. “nice try.”
you huff, but secretly, you love it. especially when he casually holds your things in one hand and your hand in the other, as if both are equally precious to him.
— remembers your coffee order
you drag yourself out of bed, still groggy, only to be greeted by leehan standing in the kitchen, holding out your exact coffee order.
“for you,” he says, placing it in your hands.
you blink, wrapping your fingers around the warm cup. “how’d you—”
he tilts his head, lips curving into a soft smile. “you always get this when you’re tired. figured i’d save you the trouble.”
your heart does a little flip. you take a sip, warmth spreading through you—not just from the coffee, but from him.
— tucks your hair behind your ear
whenever the wind blows your hair into your face, leehan’s hand is already there, gently tucking the strands behind your ear. it’s an automatic gesture, something he does without even thinking.
sometimes, his fingers linger, brushing against your skin as he looks at you, his eyes soft, unreadable. “pretty,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
and you? you melt. every single time.
— loves you in ways you don't even realize
it’s in the way he always walks on the side closest to the road. in how he instinctively reaches for your hand in a crowded place. in how he watches you with quiet admiration, even when you’re rambling about something completely random.
it’s in the way he loves you—not loudly, not in grand gestures, but in a million quiet, thoughtful ways that remind you, over and over again, that he’s yours.
it’s just leehan. your leehan. the bestest boy ever.
genre: slowburn, fluff, sort of crack, comfort, strangers to lovers pairing: leehan x afab!reader wc: 9.5k warning: long-ass narrative and romance pace (bcs i’m a sucker for slowburn), aespa, belle and bonedo mentioned. FISHES mentioned!! lots of them, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind mentioned, my never ending “to be loved is to be known” mantra listen: ligaw — moonstar88 ft. chito miranda, love. — wte, bad — wte, sa bawat sandali — amiel sol, romcom — rob daniel, balisong — rivermaya, valentine — laufey
“welcome to the broadcasting club! we are pleased to have you here!”
a guy with a bright, almost too enthusiastic smile greets you the moment you step into the journalism headquarters. his voice carries an undeniable warmth, as if he’s been waiting all day just for your arrival. jaehyun—that’s his name. at least, that's what you remember from the posters.
the room hums with a quiet energy, papers rustling, low voices exchanging thoughts, the soft clicking of keyboards filling the spaces in between. the air smells faintly of old books, freshly brewed coffee, and the unmistakable scent of ink from the scattered printouts on the desks.
this is your first day at the broadcasting club. you had been enticed by one of their posters pinned outside your classroom, the words practically calling out to you—
“want a peaceful environment? join the broadcasting club now!”
peaceful, huh? looking at the head president in front of you, you're beginning to think otherwise. jaehyun radiates energy, the kind that makes you wonder if he’s ever known a moment of stillness in his life.
“uh… where do i sign?” you ask, shifting slightly on your feet.
jaehyun tilts his head. “sign what?”
“for the membership,” you clarify, fingers fidgeting at the hem of your sleeve, as if grounding yourself will somehow make the nerves dissipate.
“oh! right!” his sudden exclamation startles you slightly, making you stiffen for a brief second before you let out a soft chuckle, trying to mask your embarrassment.
he grins, unfazed, before motioning for you to follow. as he guides you further into the headquarters, your gaze flits around, taking in the space, committing the details to memory.
the room is a blend of organized chaos—papers stacked in precarious piles, sticky notes clinging desperately to the edges of computer screens, bookshelves lined with past publications and reference materials. a group of students huddle over a laptop in one corner, their quiet murmurs blending into the background noise. across the room, another group chats animatedly, their laughter breaking through the otherwise mellow atmosphere.
but then, your eyes land on him.
a guy stands near the farthest desk, his posture relaxed yet focused. his fingers move effortlessly over the buttons of a sleek camera, adjusting the settings with practiced ease. strands of dark hair fall slightly over his forehead, catching the soft glow of the overhead lights. he doesn’t seem aware of the world around him, completely immersed in whatever he's doing.
his brows knit together as he checks the camera screen, lips slightly parted in concentration. you wonder what he sees through the lens—what kind of stories he captures, what moments he finds worthy enough to frame.
your gaze lingers for a second longer before you shake yourself out of it. you’ve barely been here for five minutes, and you're already getting distracted.
straightening your posture, you let out a quiet breath before returning your attention to jaehyun, who’s still talking about the club’s activities. but even as you listen, your thoughts briefly wander back to the boy with the camera.
for the whole day, you barely did anything related to broadcasting. no writing, no editing—just a long, hellish day of socializing.
it’s not that you hate people. they’re not necessarily annoying, and you don’t think you’re above conversation. but being around too many of them at once? exhausting. overwhelming. you’ve always preferred the quiet that comes with staying in your own bubble, away from the small talk and forced interactions.
but today, jaehyun had other plans for you. he made sure to drag you from one conversation to another, introducing you to every single person in the club, making sure you weren’t left standing in a corner by yourself. you were drowning in introductions, nodding and smiling so much your cheeks started to hurt. you had exchanged pleasantries, laughed at jokes you barely understood, and answered the same questions over and over—“what made you join the club?” “how do you like it so far?” “do you write news or more on the features side?”
by the time the day was coming to an end, all you wanted was to sink into the nearest chair and disappear.
“before we end today’s agenda, please gather up here,” jaehyun calls out, motioning everyone to the giant couch in the middle of the room.
the members shuffle around, some grabbing last-minute snacks, others dragging chairs closer. you, on the other hand, are just about ready to bolt out the door, but before you can even think about it, jaehyun’s eyes land on you.
“y/n, come up front.”
you freeze.
slowly, hesitantly, you step forward, hands clasped together in an attempt to steady yourself. socializing was one thing, but standing in front of a room full of strangers, being introduced like some kind of special guest? you weren’t prepared for this.
jaehyun, ever the extrovert, beams as he gestures toward you. “everyone, meet y/n! she’s our new writer, so be nice.”
a small round of polite applause follows, along with a few smiles and waves from the group. you manage a shy bow, offering a soft “hello” as your eyes flicker from face to face.
jaehyun, ever the diligent host, takes it upon himself to introduce you to the people you hadn't formally met yet. he points first to a pair sitting close together—
“this is belle and taesan, our main radio announcers. they basically run the shows.”
belle gives you a friendly nod, while taesan grins and throws up a peace sign.
“woonhak and sungho—our sports feature writers. they’re also on the soccer team, so expect a lot of game recaps from them.”
the two boys flash matching smiles, exuding the kind of effortless confidence that only athletes seem to have.
“riwoo, our editorial writer. he basically keeps us from writing complete garbage.”
riwoo snorts at that, shaking his head as he offers you a knowing smile.
more names are thrown your way—ningning, winter, yuna, daehwi—all of them waving, all of them welcoming. the list seems never-ending, and you nod along, trying your best to commit at least a few of them to memory.
and then, finally, jaehyun points toward the last member.
your gaze follows his gesture until it lands on him.
“that’s leehan, our official photographer.”
he’s still where you last saw him, camera hanging around his neck, fingers lightly tapping against its frame. unlike the others, he doesn’t offer a wave or a smile. instead, he lifts his head just enough to glance at you. it’s brief—so brief you almost miss it—before he gives a small, polite bow and returns his attention to his camera.
“in this room full of extroverts, he’s an alien,” jaehyun murmurs, leaning toward you with a smirk.
you blink, tilting your head slightly. “why?”
jaehyun hums, crossing his arms. “he’s actually an extrovert by nature, but let’s just say… communication isn’t his strong suit.”
you glance back at leehan. he’s adjusting the settings on his camera now, looking through the viewfinder with a quiet kind of focus.
he doesn’t seem unfriendly. just… distant.
reserved.
like he exists just a little outside of the circle, never quite stepping in.
jaehyun chuckles, shaking his head. “he’s not as intimidating as he looks. he just sucks at talking to people.”
you nod slowly, gaze lingering on leehan for a moment longer. there’s something about him that piques your curiosity. maybe it’s the way he carries himself, the way he seems so immersed in his own world, separate from the lively chaos of the club.
or maybe it’s just the fact that, out of everyone you’ve met today, he’s the only one who hasn’t said a single word to you.
---
after the long and exhausting day of forced socializing, all you wanted was to go home, collapse onto your bed, and let the silence wash over you.
but, as luck would have it, the universe had other plans.
as soon as you step out into the parking lot, a sharp plop lands on your cheek. then another on your shoulder. before you can even register what’s happening, the sky opens up, and the rain comes down in heavy sheets, soaking the pavement in seconds.
shit.
you mutter a curse under your breath and break into a sprint, making a beeline for the nearest waiting shed. the cold raindrops cling to your skin, drenching your sleeves, your hair, the hem of your jeans. by the time you reach cover, you’re damp and shivering, rubbing your arms as you let out a tired sigh.
you shake the excess water from your hands, watching the rain crash against the asphalt. it’s relentless, the kind of downpour that could last for hours.
you exhale sharply. great. guess i’m stuck here.
as you wring out the sleeve of your jacket, you feel it—a light tap on your shoulder.
at first, you think it’s just a stray raindrop. you ignore it.
but then it happens again.
tap, tap, tap.
three soft, deliberate taps.
you turn around, eyebrows furrowing.
leehan.
he stands just behind you, his posture relaxed, a large blue umbrella held out in his hand.
you tilt your head, confused.
his expression remains unreadable, eyes flickering to yours before he nudges the umbrella toward you, silently insisting.
you blink.
he nudges it again.
hesitantly, you reach out, your fingers brushing against the smooth handle as you take it from him. the weight of it feels oddly significant, like an unspoken gesture heavier than words.
before you can even thank him, leehan has already moved.
he tugs his black marshall iv headphones back over his ears, slipping them into place as if retreating into his own world. then, in one swift motion, he pulls the hood of his jacket up and steps out into the rain.
you watch, stunned, as he takes off in a light jog, hands shoved into his pockets, head slightly ducked. he doesn’t even bother running properly—just moves at a leisurely pace, as if the rain isn’t drenching him head to toe. his free hand lifts above his head, fingers spread as if shielding himself from the downpour.
as if that’s going to make a difference.
you scoff, shaking your head.
so, he’s leehan.
quiet. distant. unreadable. but unexpectedly thoughtful.
you look down at the umbrella in your hands, running your fingers over the fabric. it’s slightly worn, the handle warm from where he held it.
a small, almost amused smile tugs at your lips.
maybe today wasn’t all bad.
---
when everyone in the club loved to chat or do anything that a typical extrovert would do, you’d find yourself slumped on the worn-out sofa in the farthest corner of the journalism office, tucked away from the noise. the room was always bustling with energy—voices overlapping, laughter echoing off the walls, the faint hum of computers in the background. yet, in your little corner, it felt like the world was muted, and you found comfort in that.
it’s been a week since you joined the broadcasting club, and you were surprised at how much you were enjoying it. their slogan promised a peaceful atmosphere, and while that wasn’t entirely accurate—there was always some level of chaos—it was still the perfect place to escape without affecting your class schedule. the best part? you could stay inside the broadcasting headquarters as long as you liked, surrounded by shelves crammed with old tapes, stacks of forgotten scripts, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. it felt like a secret sanctuary, and you were slowly getting attached to it.
you were curled up on the sofa, legs folded beneath you as you held a haruki murakami book, fingers lightly gripping a pen that danced along the pages as you scribbled little notes in the margins. the words on the paper seemed to blur at times as your mind wandered, losing focus just to drift back with a renewed curiosity. occasionally, you’d lift your gaze, letting your imagination fill the room, painting scenes inspired by the story in your head.
your eyes drifted to the water dispenser, the hum of the cooling unit blending into the background noise. and that’s when you saw him—leehan, standing by the dispenser, his hair slightly tousled, fingers tapping impatiently against his cup as he waited for the water to fill.
the blue umbrella.
shit. you forgot his umbrella, and it’s been a week since that rainy day when you borrowed it. you pressed your palm to your forehead, feeling the embarrassment flood in. you promised yourself right then—you’d definitely bring it tomorrow. no more excuses.
the next morning, you arrived at the broadcasting headquarters earlier than usual, the blue umbrella clutched tightly in your hand. the sky outside was still a soft gray, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. inside, the familiar hum of equipment and faint chatter greeted you. a few early birds were already scattered around, their sleepy good mornings exchanged as you made your way through the room. your eyes instinctively searched for him, and you didn’t have to look far.
leehan was at the coffee table, a book in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other, his posture relaxed as his eyes skimmed over the pages. the soft glow from the window cast a golden hue on his face, and for a moment, you stood frozen, unsure of what to say—or if you should say anything at all.
you approached him quietly, your footsteps light against the worn floorboards. when you were standing in front of him, you didn’t bother with words. instead, you gently tapped his shoulder, just like he did that day when he handed you the umbrella without a single word. his eyes flicked up, widening in surprise as they met yours.
before he could say anything, you held out the umbrella, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment before you quickly pulled away. his lips parted, as if to say something, but you were already turning on your heels, leaving the room before he could respond. you didn’t even know why you were rushing, heart pounding as you disappeared down the hallway.
and yet, no matter how far you tried to run, you couldn’t escape the fact that leehan was everywhere. it started to feel like he was haunting you, always showing up in the same places, always close but never speaking. like now, for example.
you were curled up in your favorite corner, the ancient sofa sagging beneath your weight as you tapped your pen against the pages of your notebook. you’d been staring at the same sentence for what felt like an eternity, words tangled in your mind, refusing to form coherent thoughts. but your distraction wasn’t just because of writer’s block.
across the room, leehan was there, again. his camera rested in his hands, fingers absentmindedly adjusting the lens. he wasn’t taking any pictures, just fiddling with the settings, eyes occasionally flicking up before quickly looking away. you wondered if he knew you noticed. if he realized how obvious he was.
this wasn’t the first time.
last week, you were in the library, wedged between two dusty shelves, lost in an old poetry book. the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows created a soothing melody, and you were fully immersed in the words until a faint presence disrupted your peace. you looked up, and there he was—one aisle over, his eyes skimming book titles, fingers trailing along the spines without actually pulling any out. you turned a page. he turned a page. you sighed and scribbled a note. he shifted his weight, adjusting the strap of his camera bag. it was almost like you were synced, even though neither of you said a word.
then there was that time at the coffee station, a cramped little corner of the student center where people squeezed past each other with hurried apologies. you were pouring cream into your cup, watching the swirling white cloud mix with the coffee’s dark brown. you felt him before you saw him—standing just behind you, close enough for you to feel his presence, but not close enough to touch.
you didn’t turn around. you didn’t have to. you moved aside, and he stepped forward, reaching for a sugar packet. his movements were slow, deliberate, the crinkle of the packet tearing breaking the silence between you. you knew he liked exactly one sugar in his coffee because you had seen him do this before, every time you ran into him here. he stirred his cup slowly, his eyes never meeting yours, but his presence was heavy, lingering in the air long after you walked away.
and now, once again, he was here, in the broadcasting headquarters, across from you with his camera in hand. neither of you spoke. the silence felt heavy, charged with something unspoken, the distance between you feeling smaller than it actually was. you wondered if he knew how many times you noticed him. if he realized that he was becoming a constant in your day, an unspoken presence that you were starting to expect.
leehan’s gaze shifted, his eyes meeting yours for a fleeting second before he looked back at his camera, his fingers continuing to fiddle with the lens. you quickly looked away, pretending to be lost in your notebook again, the pen tapping against the paper as your heart raced.
---
the quietness with the both you started shifting when he saw you at the couch, sitting during one break, reading one of the books he was into—fishes.
slowly, leehan approached, standing near the arm of the couch, his fingers tightening slightly around the strap of his camera bag.
“t-that’s a cool book.” he said just enough for you to hear.
“yes, i love reading this every now and then,” you blinked.
“you… like fishes?” he looked just as surprised as you felt, like he hadn’t really planned on speaking.
for a second, you only stared at each other. then, you nodded and smiled.
“i have some,” you murmured, voice quieter than the bustling room around you.
his eyebrows lifted slightly. “some?”
you hesitated, then closed the book halfway, your fingers still keeping your place. “i have six. a small tank in my apartment.”
leehan blinked, and then, before he could stop himself, he sat down on the opposite end of the couch.
“what kind?”
there was something about the way he asked, like he actually cared about the answer. you shifted slightly, feeling the couch dip with his added weight.
“a mix… two bettas, a couple of neon tetras, and some corydoras.”
leehan exhaled, a soft, amused sound that almost resembled a laugh. “you really know your fish.”
you shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “i just think they’re interesting.”
“you have fish, too?”
leehan leaned back slightly, nodding. “yeah… a planted tank. mostly rasboras and shrimp.”
for the first time, the quiet between you wasn’t just comfortable—it was expectant, like something unspoken had shifted.
“how do you keep shrimp alive?” you asked after a moment, genuinely curious. “mine never last longer than a few weeks.”
he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s all about the water parameters. i can show you sometime if you want.”
it was a simple offer, but it felt bigger than that.
you nodded, tucking your legs under you. “i’d like that.”
and just like that, the conversation flowed.
for hours, you talked. about fish, about aquariums, about the best water conditions and tank setups.
leehan was in awe.
he had never talked this much before. never felt this comfortable.
since that day, something quietly shifted between you and leehan.
it wasn’t sudden, nothing dramatic. just subtle changes—small, unspoken gestures that gradually became routine.
like how he’d now linger near the couch during breaks, pretending to scroll through his camera or fiddle with his lenses, when you both knew he was waiting for you to sit down and talk.
and you did. you always did.
at first, it was just about fish. he’d bring books with colorful covers, filled with illustrations of vibrant aquatic life, and you’d pour over the pages together, sharing your thoughts, comparing notes.
once, he showed up with a tiny container. fish food.
“try it,” he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
you crinkled your nose. “are you crazy?”
“it’s not that bad,” he argued, leaning back against the couch with a casual shrug. “just a little salty.”
you stared at the container, hesitating. “you’ve tried it before?”
his lips curved into a small, almost playful smile. “curiosity got the best of me.”
you laughed, shaking your head. “i’ll pass.”
he just grinned, tucking the container back into his bag. “suit yourself. give some for your fishes though.”
it wasn’t always about fish, though. sometimes, it was about journalism.
he’d ask about your writing—your ideas, your process, what you wanted to bring to the broadcasting club. you’d stumble over your words at first, unused to someone showing such genuine interest. but leehan was patient, his quiet encouragement coaxing you out of your shell.
one afternoon, he found you struggling with an article, your laptop open and your fingers frozen above the keyboard.
“stuck?” he asked, his voice low and soft.
you exhaled, leaning back with a groan. “i don’t know how to start this.”
leehan glanced at the screen, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in closer. “just write the first thing that comes to mind. you can always edit it later.”
“easy for you to say,” you muttered. “you’re just clicking a button. i have to actually make sense.”
he rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched with amusement. “you think photography is that easy?”
you shrugged, teasing. “pretty much.”
he shot you a mock glare, then grabbed his camera, holding it out to you. “here. let’s see you take a decent shot then.”
you hesitated, fingers brushing against the cold metal. “i don’t know how to use this.”
“i’ll teach you.”
and he did.
he showed you how to adjust the settings, how to find the right angle, how to capture light and shadow. his voice was patient, his hands occasionally guiding yours, his touch warm and careful.
you ended up taking a picture of a half-empty cup of coffee, the light from the window hitting it just right. it was a terrible shot, the focus all wrong, the composition awkward.
but leehan looked at it like it was something special.
“not bad,” he said softly. “you’ve got an eye for this.”
you tried to ignore the way his words made your heart flutter.
then there was the day he showed you his portfolio.
“it’s nothing special,” he mumbled, clearly embarrassed, as he handed you his tablet.
you started scrolling, taking in shot after shot—landscapes drenched in golden light, candid moments of laughter, the vibrant energy of city streets. his photos were alive, bursting with emotion and movement.
“leehan,” you breathed, eyes wide with awe. “these are... incredible.”
he ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “thanks.”
then you saw it.
you almost scrolled past it, but something made you stop. it was a shot of the broadcasting club room, sunlight filtering through the window, the warm glow wrapping around a familiar figure.
you.
your profile turned to the side, a small, thoughtful smile playing on your lips as you scribbled something in your notebook. your hair fell gently over your shoulder, your expression soft and serene.
your heart skipped a beat. “w-when did you take this?”
leehan froze. his eyes widened, panic flashing across his face. “oh... uh... that... i was just testing the lighting, and you were there, and...” he trailed off, clearly flustered. his cheeks turned a light shade of pink, and he looked away, suddenly very interested in his shoes.
you tried to keep your voice steady, tried to ignore the heat creeping up your own cheeks. “it’s... a good shot.”
he glanced at you, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge your reaction. “really?”
you nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “yeah. you’re really good at this.”
for a second, he just stared at you, his expression softening, his shoulders relaxing. then he looked away, his ears tinged red. “thanks...”
after that, things changed—just a little.
he started showing you more of his photos, and sometimes, you’d catch glimpses of yourself in them. blurry, candid shots. nothing posed, nothing intentional. just stolen moments.
you never asked why. and he never explained.
but slowly, leehan’s presence became a constant in your life.
he’d seek you out during breaks, sitting across from you at the couch, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing quietly beside you.
other times, you’d find him standing outside the broadcasting club room, his hands tucked in his pockets, waiting for you without saying a word. you’d walk out together, your footsteps falling in sync, a comfortable silence wrapping around you both.
and then there were the little things.
like the way he’d slide over an extra bottle of water when he noticed yours was empty. or how he’d subtly adjust the window blinds so the sunlight wouldn’t glare on your laptop screen.
or how he’d hold out his hand when you were struggling with carrying too many things at once, his fingers brushing against yours just for a second before he took the burden off your hands.
you never talked about these moments. never addressed the way his gaze would linger a little too long, or how your heart would race whenever he was close.
it was slow, a delicate dance of stolen glances and soft smiles, of shared silences and unspoken words.
but somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, you and leehan were getting closer.
---
what you had with leehan wasn’t loud. it didn’t demand attention, didn’t clamor to be seen or heard. it was quiet, gentle, almost delicate in its existence. but it was yours.
it started as something small. something almost insignificant.
maybe it was the way your eyes flickered to the door more often than they should, a subtle glance that betrayed the anticipation curling in your stomach. you weren’t waiting for him, not really. but some part of you hoped. hoped that, maybe, leehan would show up, like he always did.
and then, like clockwork, the door creaked open.
your head lifted before you could stop yourself, heart skipping just a little when you saw him step inside. he was balancing a cup of fruit in one hand, a fork in the other, a piece of pineapple poised between his lips. his hair was slightly tousled, like he had run his fingers through it on his way over, and his eyes crinkled as they met yours.
he waved, the motion casual, easy. “hey,” he mumbled around the fruit before quickly chewing and swallowing.
you tried to fight the smile threatening to break free but failed miserably. “hey.”
he walked over, dropping his camera bag onto the chair with a soft thud, the familiar scent of his perfume trailing behind him. it was subtle, a delicate blend of something fresh and slightly woody, tinged with a sweetness that lingered in the air long after he had settled into his seat.
you tried not to notice. you really did.
but it was getting harder.
especially when you started noticing... everything.
like how he always had that cup of fruit with him. pineapple, melon, sometimes apple slices. you weren’t sure why it stood out to you, but it did. maybe it was because of the way he ate, with a sort of quiet focus, his eyes fixed on the cup, his brows drawing together just slightly. or maybe it was the way his lips would curve upwards every time he tasted something particularly sweet.
you’d never paid much attention to it before, but now it seemed like the most obvious thing in the world.
you filed the thought away, only for it to be replaced by something else.
like the way his voice dipped lower when he spoke in hushed tones, the words wrapping around you softly, lingering in the air long after he’d finished speaking. it was calming, a gentle rhythm that soothed even the most restless parts of you.
or the way he tilted his head when he listened, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made you feel like the most important person in the room. he didn’t just hear you; he listened. truly listened. and somehow, that meant everything.
and then there were the little things, the ones that shouldn’t have mattered but did.
the mole in his neck, peeking out from the collar of his shirt. you weren’t even sure why your eyes kept drifting there, but they did, tracing the shape absently, memorizing the way it stood out against his skin.
or the way he laughed. soft and breathy, like he was trying to hold it back. but when something was really funny, his laugh would break free, louder, more genuine, and he’d immediately cover his face with his hand, his shoulders shaking with embarrassment. you found yourself wanting to hear that laugh more often, wanting to be the reason for it.
you didn’t realize you were staring until he looked up, his eyes meeting yours.
“what?” he asked, a curious smile playing at his lips.
you blinked, heat flooding your cheeks. “nothing,” you mumbled, quickly looking down at your notebook, pretending to be engrossed in whatever you were scribbling.
out of the corner of your eye, you saw him shrug, going back to his fruit, his foot lightly tapping against the leg of your chair.
and just like that, the world felt a little more grounded.
you didn’t know when it happened—when the quiet presence of leehan became something you looked forward to, something you anticipated without even realizing it. but it did.
because it wasn’t just the moments filled with conversation or laughter that you found yourself craving. it was the silences, too. the ones that stretched comfortably between you, where no words were needed because his presence was enough.
sometimes, you’d both be working on different things, the only sound in the room the soft clicking of keys or the scratch of a pen against paper. yet, you felt more at ease in those moments than you ever did surrounded by noise.
and it was strange—how easily he had slipped into your life, into your routine. how his presence felt natural, like he belonged there, across from you, his fruit cup balanced precariously on his knee as he scrolled through photos on his camera.
you didn’t question it. you were too afraid of what the answer might be.
so you let it be. let yourself notice the way his hair fell messily over his forehead, or the way his fingers drummed absently against the table when he was lost in thought.
let yourself memorize the subtle curve of his smile, the warmth in his gaze whenever he looked at you.
---
leehan had always been observant.
it was something his friends teased him about constantly, claiming he paid too much attention to things that didn’t matter. but to him, the small things did matter. they were what made up the fabric of his world, the tiny details that others overlooked but he found himself lingering on, almost obsessively.
like how the jaehyun, the club president always spun a pen between his fingers when he was deep in thought, his brows knitting together as he tried to piece together the next news segment.
or how the lights in the broadcast room flickered ever so slightly every few minutes, a barely noticeable glitch that seemed to go unnoticed by everyone but him. or how taesan would doodle absentmindedly in the margins of his notebook, his sketches chaotic but oddly charming. or how woonhak had this habit of humming under his breath whenever he was editing videos, the soft tune weaving through the air like a whisper.
leehan noticed all of it. every little thing.
but most of all, he noticed you.
he noticed how you always sat in the same spot on the worn-out couch, legs tucked under you, your body curled in a way that made you look smaller, softer. how you’d have a cup of coffee within reach, the steam curling upwards, and a piece of bread in your hand, nibbling on it absentmindedly as you reviewed scripts or edited recordings.
he noticed how your brows would furrow when you were focused, your nose scrunching just a little, and how your lips would part ever so slightly when you were deep in thought. he noticed how you’d occasionally hum under your breath, a quiet melody that you probably didn’t even realize you were singing.
he noticed the way your hair would fall messily over your face, how you’d push it back absentmindedly, fingers brushing against your cheek with a sort of careless grace that made his chest tighten.
he noticed how your eyes would light up when you laughed, the way your shoulders would relax, your entire body leaning into the joy as if nothing else in the world mattered in that moment.
and he noticed the way his heart would stutter every single time.
leehan wanted to talk to you from the very first time he saw you.
it was the first day of the semester, and you had walked into the broadcast room, shoulders slightly hunched as if you were trying to make yourself smaller. you were wearing a faded sweatshirt, the sleeves too long and frayed at the edges, your hair a little messy, like you had rushed out the door without bothering to fix it. you had looked around the room, your gaze flickering nervously before settling on the couch, where you had sat down, curling into yourself like you were trying to disappear.
and that was when it happened.
his heart did this strange, stupid little flip, a fluttering that made him feel lightheaded and dizzy. he didn’t understand it, didn’t know why his chest suddenly felt tight or why his palms were getting clammy. all he knew was that he couldn’t look away.
he wanted to say something, anything, but his throat closed up, the words dying on his tongue. he wasn’t good with people—never had been. talking to someone new was hard enough, but talking to you felt impossible. because you were beautiful. painfully so. and that terrified him.
so he did nothing.
instead, he watched. quietly, carefully, from the corner of the room, his eyes drifting back to you every few seconds, his heart beating a little faster each time.
“dude, you’re staring again,” taesan muttered beside him, his voice low enough that no one else would hear. “it’s getting creepy.”
leehan tore his gaze away, heat rushing to his cheeks. “i’m not staring.”
taesan rolled his eyes. “right. and i’m practically your best friend, dude.” he nudged leehan’s shoulder, a teasing grin on his face. “just go talk to her already.”
“i can’t,” leehan mumbled, his eyes unconsciously drifting back to you. “i... i wouldn’t know what to say.”
“just say hi,” woonhak chimed in, leaning back in his chair. “it’s not rocket science.”
leehan’s stomach twisted at the thought. just the idea of walking up to you, of saying something and potentially making a fool of himself... it was enough to make his palms sweat.
“i’ll just... i’ll just wait,” he muttered, sinking lower in his seat. “for the right moment.”
taesan sighed. “you’ve been waiting for the right moment for months, dude. at this rate, you’ll graduate before you even say hi.”
leehan didn’t respond. because taesan was right. he had been waiting.
and waiting.
and waiting.
but the moment never came.
so he watched instead. and he noticed.
he noticed how you always showed up early, at least fifteen minutes before the rest of the team. how you’d settle into your spot on the couch, sipping your coffee slowly, your shoulders visibly relaxing as the room remained quiet and empty.
he noticed how you always brought a piece of bread, usually something simple—plain toast, a croissant, sometimes a muffin. you’d nibble on it absentmindedly, your eyes fixed on the papers in front of you, occasionally brushing crumbs off your lap.
he noticed how your handwriting was neat but slanted, the letters curving gracefully across the page. how you always underlined your titles twice, the lines perfectly straight, no ruler needed.
he noticed the way you laughed—soft, melodic, the kind of laugh that made his chest feel warm and tight all at once. how you’d cover your mouth when you laughed too hard, your shoulders shaking, eyes crinkling at the corners.
and he noticed how his heart would ache every single time.
“you’re hopeless,” taesan said one day, watching as leehan’s gaze followed you across the room.
leehan sighed, his shoulders slumping. “i know.”
“just talk to her, man,” taesan pressed. “what’s the worst that could happen?”
“everything,” leehan muttered.
at this point, his friends had stopped listening.
but he couldn’t stop. he couldn’t stop noticing you, couldn’t stop wanting to be near you, to talk to you, to make you laugh. he couldn’t stop his heart from racing every time you looked his way, even if it was just for a second.
he couldn’t stop the way his chest tightened when he saw you smile, or the way his mind would go blank whenever you were close enough for him to catch the faint scent of your shampoo.
he couldn’t stop falling for you, even if you didn’t have a clue.
but then one day, everything changed.
it was break time, and leehan was heading toward the coffee station when he saw you.
sitting on the couch.
with his book.
well, not his book, but the book. the national geographic book about fishes. the one he had practically lived in as a kid, flipping through the pages until he had every fish species memorized.
his breath hitched. his hands clenched. his mind went into overdrive.
she likes that book? does that mean she likes fishes? what if it’s just random? what if—
he caught himself before spiraling. no. he needed to act normal. he needed to breathe.
step. step. breathe.
before he could fully comprehend it, he was standing right in front of you. close enough to see the delicate curve of your eyelashes, the way your fingers gently held the pages.
his lips parted, his voice coming out shakier than he wanted. “t-that’s a cool book.” just loud enough for you to hear.
you looked up.
oh. oh god.
leehan swore his heart stopped. just for a moment, he saw the gates of heaven when your eyes met. there was a pause, long enough for the world to blur around the edges, leaving only you in perfect focus.
“yes, i love reading this every now and then,” you blinked, looking up at him through those impossibly pretty eyes.
his mind went blank. completely, utterly blank. then, somehow, words tumbled out. “you… like fishes?” he sounded as stunned as he felt, like his mouth was moving before his brain could catch up.
you stared at him, and he could feel his pulse racing, each beat echoing in his chest. then, you nodded, a small smile forming on your lips.
“i have some,” you said softly, your voice delicate, almost shy.
leehan’s heart did a weird little flip. “some?”
you hesitated, closing the book halfway but keeping your fingers in place. “i have six. a small tank in my apartment.”
leehan’s eyes widened, and before he could stop himself, he sat down on the other end of the couch. he needed to be closer, needed to hear more.
“what kind?”
his voice was soft, almost reverent, like he was asking about something sacred. because to him, it was. you were.
you shifted, and leehan felt the slight dip of the couch, felt the warmth of your presence. “a mix… two bettas, a couple of neon tetras, and some corydoras.”
he let out a breath, a sound that was almost a laugh, his heart feeling light in a way he didn’t know it could. “you really know your fish.”
you shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. “i just think they’re interesting.”
god, he wanted to bottle that smile and keep it forever.
“you have fish, too?”
leehan leaned back just enough to look at you fully, his eyes taking in every detail. “yeah… a planted tank. mostly rasboras and shrimp.”
your eyes sparkled with curiosity. “how do you keep shrimp alive? mine never last longer than a few weeks.”
he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s all about the water parameters. i can show you sometime if you want.”
the words were out before he could think, hanging in the air between you. he held his breath, waiting, hoping.
your eyes softened, your lips curving into that gentle smile again. “i’d like that.”
leehan felt his heart swell, warmth spreading through his chest. he could’ve floated right off that couch.
and then, as if some invisible barrier had shattered, the conversation flowed. effortlessly, beautifully.
you talked about fish, about aquariums, about water conditions and tank setups. your voice was like music, your laughter light and airy, filling every corner of his heart.
he was completely, utterly captivated.
leehan couldn’t believe how easy it was, how natural it felt. he had never talked this much before, never felt this comfortable. but with you, words just came.
he was falling. hard. and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
not that he wanted to.
---
“hey, are you listening?” you snapped him back to reality. stopping him from literally reliving the past mid-conversation.
he stared at you, and blinked, heat rushing to his cheeks. had he been staring? he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. “y-yeah, of course. i still think the joel and clementine deserved a second or third chance...”
you have been talking about movies for the past hours and it's just so that you got to talking about eternal sunshine of the spotless mind.
you laughed, and the sound was so soft, so genuine, that it made his heart skip. “we moved past that like five minutes ago.”
“oh,” he mumbled, feeling utterly stupid. “right… yeah, i knew that.” you shook your head, amused.
“you’re kind of weird, you know that?”
“yeah,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck, a sheepish smile forming. “i get that a lot.” he expected you to laugh again, to make another teasing remark, but instead, your expression softened.
“it’s… kind of cute.”
leehan’s heart stopped.
did you just call him cute?
he replayed the words in his head, over and over, trying to convince himself he hadn’t imagined it. the way you looked at him, eyes warm and gentle, the smallest smile on your lips—he was sure he was dreaming.
“w-what?” he stammered, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched. he cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. “i mean… really?”
you shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but the slight pink on your cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. “yeah, in a weird, clueless kind of way.”
“oh.” his heart was racing, pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. “well… thanks, i guess?”
you smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through clouds, warm and dazzling. “you’re welcome.”
leehan swallowed hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the tiny space between you on the couch. he could feel the warmth radiating from you, could smell the faint scent of your perfume. it was intoxicating.
“so… um,” he started, desperately searching for a topic to break the tension that had settled between you, but his mind was blank. “you, uh… you never told me who your favorite character was.”
you looked at him, surprised. “from eternal sunshine?”
he nodded, grateful his voice didn’t crack. “yeah. you said you liked the movie, but you never said why.”
you tilted your head, your eyes drifting to the ceiling as you thought. “i think… i think it’s joel. he’s awkward and complicated, and he overthinks everything. but he feels everything so deeply, even when he tries not to.”
leehan’s breath caught. it was like you were describing him.
he wanted to say something, to tell you how much he understood, how he also overthought everything, how he was feeling everything so intensely right now it almost hurt. but the words wouldn’t come.
“what about you?” you asked, your voice gentle. “who’s your favorite?”
he looked at you, his chest tightening. “joel,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours. “definitely joel.”
for a moment, neither of you spoke. the air was thick with something unspoken, something electric. leehan could feel his heart racing, his palms growing sweaty.
then you looked away, breaking the spell. “yeah… he’s great.”
leehan swallowed, realizing he had been holding his breath. he let it out slowly, trying to calm the storm inside him.
you leaned back against the couch, eyes drifting to the book he let you borrow, resting on your lap. “you really know a lot about fish,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the spine absentmindedly. “i never would’ve guessed.”
leehan smiled, his heart fluttering at the way you said it, like you were genuinely curious. “yeah… it was kind of my whole life growing up. i used to spend hours reading about them, watching documentaries… i even had this imaginary aquarium business when i was a kid.”
you laughed, the sound bright and warm, and leehan felt his chest tighten. “really?”
he nodded, his cheeks flushing. “yeah… i’d make these little paper tanks and pretend to sell them to my stuffed animals.”
you laughed even harder, your eyes crinkling at the corners. “that’s… that’s adorable.”
adorable.
his heart skipped. he wanted to hear you say it again, wanted to make you laugh like that a thousand more times.
he looked away, his face burning. “yeah, well… i was a weird kid.”
“i think that’s sweet,” you said softly, your voice gentle. “you were passionate, even then.”
leehan’s heart thudded in his chest. how were you doing this to him? how were you turning his most embarrassing childhood stories into something beautiful?
“i… i guess so,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.
you smiled, your eyes lingering on him a moment longer before you looked down at the book. “you know, i’ve had this book for years, but i never really understood half of what’s in here. maybe… maybe you could teach me sometime?”
leehan’s eyes widened, his heart leaping. “r-really? i mean, yeah! yeah, i’d love to.”
“cool,” you said, your smile soft, almost shy. “i’d like that.”
leehan felt his heart swell, warmth flooding his chest. he wanted to memorize this moment, to etch every detail into his mind. the way your hair fell softly over your shoulder, the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him, the way you said you wanted to spend more time with him.
he fell. hard. he fell so bad he swore that you could hear his heart beating maniacally because of you.
---
it was a saturday morning, lazy morning for the whole broadcasting club, and you? you have other plans to spend this lazy saturday.
you found him in the broadcasting room, hunched over the soundboard with his brows furrowed, headphones around his neck. his fingers moved expertly over the controls, adjusting levels with a focused determination that made your heart skip.
you hesitated at the door, gripping the edges of your notebook, your palms clammy. asking him to watch a documentary shouldn’t be this hard, right? it was just… a documentary. about fishes. something you figured he’d like. nothing weird about that.
so why were your hands shaking?
“you gonna stand there all day?”
you jumped, heat rushing to your cheeks as you looked up to see taesan leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a lazy grin on his lips. his eyes sparkled with mischief, like he knew exactly why you were hesitating.
“i-i was just…” you stammered, struggling to come up with an excuse, but taesan only raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.
“leehan’s in there, you know.” he jerked his head towards the room. “and he’s been staring at that soundboard for the past hour. pretty sure he could use a distraction.”
your heart fluttered at the thought, and before you could second-guess yourself, you took a deep breath and walked inside.
leehan looked up at the sound of the door, his eyes widening slightly when he saw you. “oh… hey.”
“h-hi.” you cursed yourself for stuttering. get it together. “i… um… i wanted to ask you something.”
his eyebrows lifted, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “yeah?”
you opened your mouth, the words on the tip of your tongue, but they refused to come out. your mind went blank, and all you could do was stand there, staring at him like an idiot.
leehan shifted, a hint of pink coloring his cheeks. “is… is something wrong?”
“no! no, nothing’s wrong,” you blurted, heat flooding your face. “i just… um…” you looked down, your fingers twisting nervously. “i found this documentary. about fishes. and… and i thought… maybe… you’d want to watch it… with me?”
there. you did it. you actually did it.
the silence that followed was deafening. you forced yourself to look up, panic bubbling in your chest when you saw the way his eyes widened, his lips parted in shock.
oh god. this was a mistake. this was a huge mistake. you shouldn’t have asked. you should’ve just watched it by yourself—
“i-i mean, you don’t have to,” you rushed to add, waving your hands frantically. “it’s totally fine if you’re busy or not interested or—”
“no!” his voice came out louder than intended, his eyes widening in horror at his own outburst. he cleared his throat, his shoulders hunching as he looked down, his fingers fidgeting. “i… i mean… i’d like to. watch it. with you. i… i’d like that a lot.”
your heart skipped, hope flaring in your chest. “really?”
he looked up, his eyes softening as he nodded. “yeah. it sounds… fun.”
a smile spread across your lips before you could stop it, relief washing over you. “o-okay. great. um… during break time, then?”
“yeah.” his lips curved into a small, shy smile, his fingers fiddling with the headphone cord. “during break.”
you nodded, your heart pounding. “okay. cool. um… see you then.”
“y-yeah.” his eyes lingered on you as you turned to leave, and you swore you could feel his gaze on your back long after you walked out.
the moment you were out of sight, you leaned against the wall, your knees weak. did that… did that just happen? did he really say yes?
“well, that was cute.”
you jumped, whipping around to see jaehyun leaning against the lockers, arms crossed and an infuriatingly smug grin on his face.
taesan stood next to him, his own smirk firmly in place. “didn’t know watching fish could be so romantic,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.
your face burned. “shut up,” you muttered, hugging your notebook to your chest as you tried to walk past them, but they blocked your path, their grins widening.
“honestly, it was painful to watch,” jaehyun drawled, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “i almost went in there myself just to ask him for you.”
“good thing you didn’t,” taesan added, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “i was enjoying the show.”
you glared at them, but they only laughed, clearly amused by your embarrassment. “you guys are the worst.”
“maybe,” taesan admitted, shrugging, “but at least we’re not the ones hopelessly crushing on leehan.”
your jaw dropped, heat rushing to your face. “i-i’m not—”
“sure, you’re not,” jaehyun said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “and leehan totally wasn’t staring at you like a lovesick puppy the entire time you were in there.”
taesan chuckled, crossing his arms. “you two are so obvious, it’s painful.”
you opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. because deep down, a part of you hoped they were right.
---
the room was quiet, save for the hum of the old tv and the soft narration of the documentary. the dim light from the screen cast a gentle glow on your face, illuminating the spark of excitement in your eyes.
leehan couldn’t look away. he was supposed to be watching the documentary—supposed to be fascinated by the vibrant corals and the graceful dance of the fishes—but all he could see was you.
you leaned forward, eyes wide with wonder as the camera followed a school of angelfish gliding through the water. “look at that,” you whispered, your voice tinged with awe. “they’re so beautiful.”
leehan swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “yeah… beautiful.”
he wasn’t talking about the fish.
your shoulder brushed against his as you shifted closer, and his breath hitched. the contact was barely there, just the slightest touch, but it sent electricity down his spine. he fought the urge to lean in, to close the distance between you, to feel your warmth against him.
his fingers twitched, ghosting over yours. he wondered what would happen if he took your hand, if he dared to intertwine his fingers with yours. would you pull away? would you look at him with that soft, curious smile? would you let him hold on, just for a little while?
his heart raced at the thought, his chest tightening painfully.
he didn’t dare.
“you’re quiet today,” you murmured, turning to look at him. your face was so close, your eyes searching his. “are you… are you okay?”
leehan blinked, realizing he had been staring. heat rushed to his cheeks, and he quickly looked away, eyes glued to the screen. “y-yeah. just… just focused on the documentary.”
you tilted your head, studying him. “you must really like this, huh?”
“yeah,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. “i… i like watching it with you.”
the words slipped out before he could stop them. his eyes widened, his heart freezing in his chest. he dared a glance at you, panicking when he saw the way your eyes widened.
but then, slowly, a smile spread across your lips. “me too,” you whispered, your voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it. “i like watching this with you, too.”
his heart skipped, his breath catching in his throat. was this real? were you really looking at him like that, your eyes warm and gentle, your lips curved into that beautiful smile?
he was dreaming. he had to be dreaming.
the documentary continued, the narrator’s voice droning on about coral reefs and marine ecosystems, but leehan couldn’t focus. not when you were this close, not when he could feel your shoulder brushing against his, your warmth seeping into him.
you shifted, your head tilting to rest against his shoulder, your hair brushing his neck. he froze, his entire body going rigid.
you were leaning on him. your head was on his shoulder.
he didn’t dare move. he barely dared to breathe.
he could feel his heart pounding, his pulse racing as he slowly turned his head, eyes wide as he looked down at you. your eyes were still fixed on the screen, a peaceful smile on your lips, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside him.
he wanted to stay like this forever.
“you know,” you murmured, your voice soft, “i think this is my favorite documentary.”
he smiled, his heart swelling with warmth. “yeah… me too.”
he had watched this documentary a hundred times, knew every line by heart, but this was the first time it felt so special. because he was watching it with you.
your fingers twitched, brushing against his. it was barely a touch, just the lightest graze, but it sent his heart spiraling.
he looked down, his breath catching as he watched your fingers, so close to his own. his heart raced, his mind screaming at him to just reach out, to take your hand, to hold on.
his fingers moved, slowly, hesitantly, until they were resting against yours, his pinky brushing against your own.
you didn’t pull away.
leehan’s heart stopped.
your fingers curled, just the slightest bit, brushing against his. it was so subtle, so delicate, but it was enough.
he looked at you, his eyes wide, his heart in his throat. you didn’t look at him, your gaze still fixed on the screen, but there was a soft smile on your lips, so small he almost missed it.
his heart pounded, his chest tightening painfully. he wanted to say something, to tell you how much this meant to him, how much you meant to him, but the words wouldn’t come.
so he stayed silent, his fingers brushing against yours, his heart racing.
and as the documentary continued, as the narrator’s voice filled the room, leehan knew he was completely, hopelessly, undeniably in love.
genre: enemies to lovers, idiots to lovers, crack (bonedo dynamics mentioned) pairing: jaehyun x afab!reader wc: 4.6k warning: they're both a mess, non-stop banters. they kissed at the end. fought because of an egg. listen: antukin — rico blanco, i like me better — lauv, gusto ko lamang sa buhay — itchy worms, but i like you — boynextdoor
you don’t even remember the last time you and jaehyun had a normal conversation. not that you ever really did—because for as long as you’ve both been part of your respective sports teams, the only thing you’ve ever exchanged were complaints.
it started with the mess.
“seriously?” you had scoffed one evening, walking into the gym after the basketball team’s practice, only to find discarded water bottles, sweaty towels, and even an empty sports drink bottle rolling across the floor like a sad little tumbleweed.
the volleyball team had practice right after, and nothing pissed you off more than stepping onto a court that looked like a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
so, like any responsible captain, you took it upon yourself to find the root of the problem. and that root had a name: myung jaehyun.
“hey, jaehyun, clean up your team’s mess next time,” you had called out after one of your shared gym sessions.
jaehyun, who was in the middle of chugging a bottle of water, raised a brow at you. “our mess?”
“yes, yours.” you gestured to the abandoned pile of trash near the bench. “you leave the place looking like a hurricane hit.”
he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shrugged. “not my fault you’re allergic to a little dirt.”
“not my fault you guys are allergic to basic hygiene.”
leehan, who had been dribbling a basketball nearby, snorted. “dude, she’s got a point.”
“whose side are you on?” jaehyun shot him a glare before turning back to you. “we don’t even leave that much of a mess.”
you let out a short laugh, stepping forward and kicking an empty bottle toward him. it rolled to a stop right by his foot. “oh yeah? then whose bottle is this?”
sungho, who had just been passing by, took one look at the scene and immediately pointed at jaehyun. “definitely his.”
jaehyun gave him a betrayed look. “are you serious?”
“i mean, statistically speaking, it’s more likely to be yours than mine,” sungho said with a lazy shrug. “i actually clean up after myself.”
“that’s a lie and you know it.”
“okay, but do i leave sports drink graveyards on the court? no.”
you crossed your arms and smirked. “see? even your own team thinks you’re the problem.”
jaehyun groaned, bending down to pick up the bottle before lazily tossing it into the trash can. “there. happy now?”
“ecstatic,” you deadpanned. “now do that, but every time.”
from then on, it became an ongoing battle. jaehyun’s team kept leaving behind their junk, and your team kept glaring at them from across the gym. you never actually fought, not really, but there was an unspoken war between the two of you—one built entirely on glares, sarcastic remarks, and aggressively wiping down volleyballs while jaehyun walked past you like he owned the place.
one time, after another particularly messy practice, you had stormed into the basketball team’s locker room, ignoring the immediate groans and complaints from the players inside.
“again?” you huffed, pointing toward the gym doors. “why do i have to keep reminding you guys to pick up after yourselves?”
leehan, who was in the middle of changing into a fresh jersey, blinked at you. “damn, i thought we locked the door.”
“she probably kicked it open,” riwoo muttered, adjusting his towel around his neck.
jaehyun, who was seated on the bench, barely looked up as he tied his shoelaces. “maybe if your team spent less time complaining and more time training, you’d actually win more games.”
your jaw dropped. “excuse me?”
he finally glanced up, a teasing glint in his eyes. “just saying.”
taesan whistled lowly. “oh, you’re dead.”
woonhak patted jaehyun’s shoulder like he was saying his final goodbyes. “it was nice knowing you, man.”
you took a deep breath, shaking your head as you turned on your heel. “you know what? forget it. next time i see even one of your bottles on that floor, i’m chucking it at your head.”
“looking forward to it,” jaehyun called after you, clearly amused.
god, you hated him.
as if the universe wasn’t already laughing at you, things got even worse when your teams had to start training together.
your school had decided that since both the basketball and volleyball teams shared the same gym, you might as well train under the same program for conditioning sessions. this meant early morning drills, weight training, and endurance exercises—together.
it was hell.
not because the training was hard (you could handle that), but because it meant spending more time around him.
the first morning session was already off to a bad start.
“alright, everyone, pair up,” the coach announced. “we’ll be doing partner drills for today’s endurance training.”
immediately, you turned to find one of your teammates, but before you could move, a familiar presence slid up beside you.
“guess we’re stuck together,” jaehyun said, his voice way too chipper for someone who just ran two miles as a warm-up.
you scowled. “who says?”
he gestured around. sure enough, all the pairs had already been formed, leaving you and jaehyun as the only ones unpaired.
“unless you want to run laps alone, i’d say this is fate,” he added, smirking.
you groaned. “curse.”
the drill was simple—one person would hold a plank while the other jumped over them repeatedly. then, you’d switch. simple in theory. infuriating in practice.
you started first, dropping into a plank position while jaehyun jumped over you. the first few were fine. but by the fifth jump, you were sure he was messing with you.
“are you—” you gritted out, arms burning from holding yourself up, “—doing this on purpose?”
jaehyun landed smoothly before hopping over you again. “doing what?”
“jumping so damn slow.”
“you should be thanking me. i’m giving you more time to work on your arm strength.”
you clenched your jaw. “i swear to god—”
“switch!” the coach called.
you got up, shaking out your arms before shooting jaehyun a glare. “watch how it’s actually done.”
he smirked, lowering himself into a plank. “looking forward to it.”
you took a step back, bounced on the balls of your feet, and leapt.
you might’ve landed a little too close to his back.
“jesus—are you trying to kill me?” jaehyun yelped, bracing himself.
“oops,” you said, not looking the least bit sorry.
from then on, training together became a battle of who could annoy the other more.
—
but the worst part? meal times.
since both teams had the same conditioning schedule, the coaches thought it would be a great idea for you all to eat together in the dining hall. something about team unity and bonding.
you called it suffering.
because every single meal, without fail, jaehyun would find a way to sit across from you.
like today.
“morning, partner.”
you didn’t even look up from your tray of eggs and rice. “go away.”
“nah, i like it here.”
you stabbed at your food aggressively. “why are you like this?”
“like what?” he asked, reaching over to steal a piece of your egg with his fork.
you smacked his hand away. “like that!”
leehan, seated next to jaehyun, chuckled. “dude, one day she’s gonna actually throw hands.”
“and i’ll be ready,” jaehyun said, grinning at you.
you rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to your food, determined to ignore him. but then—
clink.
you glanced up. jaehyun had casually placed his sports drink on your side of the table.
you frowned. “what?”
he smirked. “just marking my territory.”
sungho nearly choked on his juice. “bro, that sounds so wrong.”
taesan snickered. “he means his half of the table.”
you glared. “i hate you all.”
━
and then there was the winking.
the first time he did it, you thought it was an accident.
the second time, you realized it definitely wasn’t.
but by the fifth time? you were convinced he was just doing it to piss you off.
during games, during practice, even in the hallways—jaehyun had made it his personal mission to wink at you whenever he got the chance.
like during one of their practice matches.
you had been forced to stay behind in the gym, waiting for your team’s turn. so, unfortunately, you had a front-row seat to watching jaehyunshow off.
you sat on the bleachers, arms crossed, watching as jaehyun dribbled past a defender with ridiculous ease. he moved with that effortless confidence, quick on his feet, spinning past his opponent before driving straight to the basket.
the ball swished through the hoop, nothing but net. his teammates erupted into cheers.
jaehyun turned, scanning the gym, and then—
wink.
you scowled immediately. “oh, for fuck’s sake.”
your teammate, yuna, who was sitting beside you, snorted. “what is his problem?”
“he is the problem,” you muttered, gripping your water bottle with unnecessary force.
yuna hummed, clearly entertained. “you know, for someone who ‘hates’ him, you sure do pay a lot of attention.”
“i have to! someone needs to keep his ego in check.”
as if to prove your point, jaehyun jogged back to his side of the court, smug as ever, and made direct eye contact with you again.
you knew what was coming.
another wink.
you groaned dramatically, throwing your head back. “i hate him.”
woonhak, who had overheard from the bench, grinned. “that’s funny, ‘cause he sure loves pissing you off.”
you shot him a glare. “gee, really? hadn’t noticed.”
━
the winking didn’t stop. if anything, it got worse.
during practice, in the dining hall, even when you passed him in the hallways—he somehow found a way to send you that stupid, infuriating wink.
like today, after your volleyball practice.
you had just finished a brutal set of drills, sweat dripping down your back, when you spotted the basketball team lingering near the entrance. they must’ve been waiting for their turn in the gym.
and, of course, jaehyun was right at the front.
you barely spared him a glance as you grabbed your water bottle from the bench, but that didn’t stop him.
“looking good, captain,” he called out.
you narrowed your eyes. “shut up, jaehyun.”
he laughed, raising his hands in surrender before winking.
you swore you saw red.
leehan, standing beside him, sighed. “dude, what if she actually kills you?”
“nah,” jaehyun said, grinning, “i think she’d miss me too much.”
you threw your towel at his face.
━
but as much as you hated to admit it, life was never boring with jaehyun around.
even when the two of you were forced into situations that made you want to rip your hair out—like the latest disaster your biology professor had cooked up.
the day had started out normal enough. until you got your test results back.
you stared at the glaring red F on your biology test, feeling your soul leave your body.
beside you, jaehyun whistled, holding up his own paper with an identical F. “ouch.”
you turned to glare at him. “why are you failing?”
he shrugged. “dunno. wasn’t paying attention.”
“of course you weren’t.”
before you could spiral into a full-blown academic crisis, your professor cleared his throat, looking way too pleased for someone who had just failed half the class.
“since many of you didn’t do well on the test,” he began, eyes twinkling mischievously, “i’ve decided to give you all an opportunity to redeem yourselves.”
murmurs filled the classroom. you remained suspicious.
“you will be given a partner—someone who also failed.”
you immediately got a bad feeling.
“together, you will complete an assignment on responsibility and care. an experiment, if you will.”
you glanced at jaehyun, who looked just as confused.
the professor smiled. “for the next week, you will take care of an egg.”
silence.
then—
“a what.”
the professor clasped his hands together. “an egg! consider it a simulation of caring for a delicate, fragile life. you must protect it at all costs and document your progress. and, of course, your partner will be chosen randomly.”
your stomach dropped.
and then—
“y/n and jaehyun,” the professor announced.
you slammed your head onto your desk.
jaehyun, meanwhile, let out a low whistle. “well. this should be fun.”
you turned your head slightly to glare at him, cheek still pressed against the desk. “i swear to god, if you break our egg, i’m breaking you.”
he grinned. “relax, partner. we’ve got this.”
you groaned. “this is literally my worst nightmare.”
jaehyun leaned back, crossing his arms. “nah. your worst nightmare is me leaving the gym extra messy just for you.”
you lifted your head just enough to glare at him. “don’t test me.”
he winked.
you nearly flipped your desk.
“now listen carefully,” your professor continued. “your assignment is simple. you must keep your egg safe for one full week. if it cracks, you fail. if you forget it somewhere, you fail. if i so much as suspect that you’re not taking this seriously, you fail.”
you felt a headache forming.
professor lee’s eyes narrowed. “and trust me, i’ll know.”
a collective shudder ran through the class. professor lee was infamous for his unconventional teaching methods. last semester, he had made students carry around cabbages as part of a psychology experiment. cabbages.
you glanced at jaehyun, who was still grinning like he had won the lottery.
he thinks this is a joke.
you groaned. “i’m so screwed.”
“nah,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “we got this.”
you turned to him, deadpan. “jaehyun. you literally failed this class.”
he placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “so did you.”
“yeah, but at least i actually tried.”
he snorted. “right. well, don’t worry, partner. our egg’s in good hands.”
you didn’t believe that for a second.
“one last thing,” professor lee added, holding up a basket. “before you leave, come up and receive your child.”
you almost choked.
child?
yuna was practically vibrating with laughter beside you. “you’re gonna be a great mom.”
“shut up.”
jaehyun, on the other hand, was already making his way to the front, completely unbothered. when he returned, he was holding the egg in his palm, studying it like it was some ancient relic.
“alright, partner,” he said, plopping into his seat. “meet our kid.”
you stared at it.
it was just a normal egg. nothing special. fragile, small, and already giving you anxiety.
“we’re so failing this,” you muttered.
jaehyun scoffed. “have a little faith.”
you gave him a pointed look. “jaehyun. be honest. how long do you think you can go without dropping it?”
he paused.
then—
“...three days?”
you groaned again.
this was going to be the longest week of your life.
—
the first day of the project was already testing every ounce of patience you had.
you and jaehyun sat at one of the library tables, your so-called child resting in an old coffee cup between you. professor lee had made it clear that this assignment wasn’t just about keeping the egg safe—you had to document everything. feeding schedules (which made zero sense), bedtime routines, and even bonding activities.
you hated every second of it.
“this is the dumbest thing i’ve ever done,” you muttered, tapping your pen against the table.
jaehyun, who was busy doodling little lightning bolts around the word thunder in your shared notebook, smirked. “that’s because you lack vision.”
“oh, i have vision. i see our grades plummeting.”
he leaned back in his chair, tossing his pen in the air before catching it effortlessly. “relax, co-parent. we just have to act like responsible adults for a week.”
you squinted at him. “you literally left the egg unattended five minutes ago to go buy chips.”
he waved you off. “our kid was fine. independent.”
“it's an egg.”
“it's our egg.”
you exhaled sharply, choosing to ignore him as you scribbled in the notebook. but then, out of the corner of your eye, you caught him reaching for the cup.
you tensed immediately.
“what are you doing?”
“holding my child.”
“no. no touching.” you moved the cup further away. “i don’t trust you.”
he looked genuinely offended. “wow. you were the one who almost knocked it over earlier.”
“because you distracted me!”
“because you were making that stupid face while writing.”
“stupid face?” you gawked at him. “i do not make a stupid face.”
he shrugged. “if the shoe fits.”
you smacked his arm with the notebook. “contribute to this or i’m making you do the whole thing by yourself.”
“fine, fine,” he sighed, taking the pen from you. he twirled it between his fingers before scrawling something next to your notes.
you glanced at the paper.
“bonding activity: jaehyun teaches the egg how to shoot a three-pointer.”
you stared at him.
“you’re a menace,” you said.
he grinned. “and yet, here we are. bonded for life.”
you groaned, dropping your head onto the table.
and somewhere in the distance, leehan and taesan—who had been watching from another table—exchanged glances before bursting into quiet laughter.
the first time you stepped into jaehyun’s room, you had one goal: check on the egg, make sure it was intact, and leave.
but of course, nothing was ever that simple with him.
“welcome to the nursery,” jaehyun said, kicking the door shut behind him.
you rolled your eyes. “nursery? it’s your room.”
“our son lives here now,” he replied, completely serious. “show some respect.”
you sighed, stepping past him. his room was… surprisingly neat. you expected a mess—basketballs lying around, clothes thrown over furniture, maybe even an unmade bed. but aside from a few scattered notebooks and a pile of hoodies in the corner, it was normal.
too normal.
“where is it?” you asked, crossing your arms.
jaehyun walked over to his desk and held up a small shoebox. he lifted the lid, revealing the egg nestled in a bundle of socks.
you blinked. “you put it in a box?”
“i made a crib,” he corrected, placing the box gently on his bed. “cozy, right?”
you sat down at the edge of the bed, peering inside. "you could’ve at least used a tissue or something instead of Nike socks."
“those are premium cushioning. only the best for our kid.”
you scoffed, but you couldn’t deny that the egg was perfectly fine. untouched. safe.
and then, jaehyun did something unexpected—he sat next to you. not across from you, not at his desk, but right next to you, so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of him.
the usual chaos, the usual bickering, the usual tension that made you want to strangle him—it was still there. but something else settled in between the silence.
it was different here.
“so,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “how’s it feel knowing our son sleeps in my room?”
you turned to glare at him, but the second you did, you realized just how close he was.
your breath caught.
he was leaning on one arm, watching you with a lazy smirk, the kind that usually annoyed you to no end. but here, in this room, on this bed, it felt like something else.
something you didn’t want to name.
“i don’t care where it sleeps,” you muttered, looking away. “i just don’t want it broken.”
“i’ll take care of it,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his tone.
you swallowed. “good.”
but when you tried to stand up, he didn’t move.
“jaehyun.”
“hm?”
“move.”
he grinned. "say please."
you shoved his shoulder, and he finally let you go with a laugh, flopping back onto the bed as you practically sprinted for the door.
“same time tomorrow, co-parent?” he called after you.
you slammed the door behind you, heart pounding.
your hell starts the moment you start noticing things about jaehyun that you shouldn’t be noticing.
it’s the way he moves on the court—fast, precise, like he already knows exactly where the ball will land before it even gets there. it’s the way he runs a hand through his hair when he’s frustrated, the way he rolls his shoulders before a free throw, the way his eyes flicker to you after making a perfect shot, as if waiting for your reaction.
and it’s infuriating.
because now, even when you’re supposed to be focusing on your game, your team, your own plays—jaehyun lingers at the back of your mind like an annoying pop song you can’t get rid of.
but the worst part? it’s not just at the gym.
it’s when you’re in his room, sitting on his bed, checking on the egg like always. except now, you’re hyperaware of how close he sits, how he sometimes lets his arm rest against yours like it’s nothing. how, when you pout at him over something stupid—like the way he insists on calling your egg “junior” instead of a normal name—his gaze flickers to your lips for half a second too long.
and jaehyun?
he’s in denial.
because this was not supposed to happen. he wasn’t supposed to want to kiss you when you scolded him. wasn’t supposed to feel heat creeping up his neck when you absentmindedly played with your necklace while talking. wasn’t supposed to care that your team captain from another school once called you “impressive” after a practice match.
he wasn’t supposed to want you.
and unfortunately for him, his friends have noticed.
“so,” woonhak drawls one afternoon, lazily dribbling a basketball as they sit on the bleachers, watching you and your team wrap up practice. “when are you gonna admit it?”
jaehyun doesn’t even look up. “admit what?”
leehan snorts. “that you like her, dumbass.”
“i don’t,” jaehyun scoffs, leaning back against the bench.
sungho raises a brow. “right. that’s why you’re staring at her like she personally offended you by existing.”
jaehyun looks away immediately, only for leehan to chuckle.
“you do realize she probably feel the same way, right?”
that makes jaehyun freeze for a second.
taesan hums. “she still argue with you, sure. but i see the way she get all flustered when you compliment her. she didn’t used to react like that.”
jaehyun opens his mouth to deny it again, but then he thinks back.
to the way you stumbled over your words last week when he casually told you your spike was getting better. to the way your breath hitched when he tucked your hair behind your ear. to the way you hesitated before leaving his room the other night, as if you were starting to feel this too.
maybe his friends were right.
and that’s when jaehyun decides: it’s time to test the waters.
so he starts pushing boundaries—just a little.
at the gym, after practice, he doesn’t just wink at you like usual. he lingers, waiting for you to react, grinning when you groan and shove him away.
when you come over to check on the egg, he always has food ready, pretending it’s no big deal when he slides a plate toward you.
“i didn’t ask for this,” you huff, poking at the meal he made.
“didn’t say you did,” he shrugs, sitting across from you. “but you always look tired after practice. eat.”
and that confuses you.
because what the hell is he doing? what the hell does he want?
you’d always known jaehyun as the annoying basketball captain who drove you insane, but now…
now he’s holding your hand a second longer than necessary. now he’s calling you “co-parent” with a lazy grin that makes your stomach twist in a way you don’t want to acknowledge. now he’s casually running a hand through his hair while watching you in between classes, like he knows something you don’t.
and you hate that it scares you.
because if this is just another game to him, if he’s just messing with you—then why does it feel so real?
the egg cracks.
not metaphorically—though, honestly, it might as well be—but literally.
you’re standing in jaehyun’s room, holding what used to be your child (as he so dramatically called it), staring at the jagged fracture running across the eggshell. your breath catches in your throat.
“oh, shit,” you whisper.
jaehyun, who had been leaning against his desk, looks up from his phone. “what?”
you slowly turn to him, the broken egg cradled in your hands like a crime scene.
“we killed junior.”
for a moment, there’s silence. then—
“oh my god,” jaehyun breathes out, eyes widening.
“we’re failures.”
“we’re murderers.”
“professor lee is going to slaughter us.”
“okay, first of all,” jaehyun says, quickly moving toward you, “you’re the one who dropped it—”
“don’t you dare pin this on me.”
“—and second,” he continues, ignoring you, “we just need a replacement.”
you blink at him. “you want to… replace our child?”
“wouldn’t be the first time people switched babies at birth,” he shrugs.
“you’re insane.”
“do you want to fail?”
you purse your lips. no. but—
jaehyun sighs. “look, we can sit here mourning an egg, or we can fix the problem. your call.”
you scowl at him, but he’s right. begrudgingly, you set the cracked egg down and grab your bag.
“fine. but if we get caught—”
“we won’t,” he grins, already grabbing his car keys and intertwining his hand with yours, “let’s go, co-parent.”
—
you manage to replace the egg. you turn in your project. you pass.
but that’s not the ending.
the ending is this:
it’s late, and you’re at jaehyun’s house, sprawled out on his bed like always. the ceiling fan hums softly overhead, casting slow-moving shadows against the walls. the scent of his cologne lingers in the air—clean, familiar, a little too comforting. he’s sitting at the edge of the bed, lazily spinning a basketball on his finger, gaze half-lidded with concentration.
you’re supposed to feel relieved. the project is over. the ridiculous assignment, the stress, the stupid arguments—you survived it all. but your head is still spinning, not from exhaustion, but from something else. something heavier.
because things have shifted. you don’t bicker as much anymore. the teasing has changed. the tension isn’t sharp—it’s something softer now, something unspoken that curls around the edges of your conversations. something that lingers in the way his eyes stay on you a little longer than they should.
“so,” jaehyun says suddenly, voice cutting through the quiet. “you’re still thinking about it.”
you blink at him. “thinking about what?”
he finally looks at you, and the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s amused.
“us.”
your stomach flips. you sit up too fast, the mattress dipping beneath you. “there’s no us.”
jaehyun smirks. slow. knowing. like he’s heard the lie in your voice before you even said it.
“sure,” he hums, spinning the ball again. “but i think about it.”
your breath hitches.
“what?”
he tosses the ball aside. it rolls off the bed, thudding softly onto the carpet, but you barely hear it over the sudden rush of blood in your ears. because he’s shifting, leaning in, invading your space in a way that makes your pulse stutter.
closer than necessary. closer than friends should be.
“i think about how much fun it is to piss you off,” he murmurs, and his voice is different this time—lower, rougher. “i think about how much i like having you around.”
his hand lifts, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. the touch is barely there, but it burns.
“and i think about how, if i kissed you right now, you wouldn’t stop me.”
your breath catches.
because he’s right.
but the worst part? you don’t want to stop him.
you don’t move when his gaze flickers down to your lips. you don’t push him away when his fingers graze your jaw, thumb tracing slow, feather-light circles against your skin.
and when he finally tilts his head and closes the distance, when his lips press against yours in something hesitant but undeniably real—
genre: fluff, co-worker to lovers hehe, reader have a BIG FAT crush on unagi (who doesn’t) mutual pining, self-indulged pairing: crush!woonhak x afab!reader wc: 3176 warning: they both have responsibility crisis, both NUMBBB, lmk if i forgot any !! listen: small girl — lee youngji ft. do, binibini — zack tabudlo, take a chance with me — niki, aya — earl agustin
the soft hum of the refrigerator filled the quiet store, the flickering fluorescent lights above casting a dull glow over the aisles. your shift was dragging, and with barely any customers coming in, you found yourself wiping the already spotless counter just to keep your hands busy.
the air smelled faintly of instant ramen and cheap coffee, the scent clinging to your uniform as you absentmindedly ran the rag over the counter for the third time. your thoughts drifted—mostly to woonhak, as they often did during these long, uneventful shifts.
woonhak was at the back of the store, stacking boxes near the stockroom. from where you stood, you could see the way his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms as he effortlessly lifted each box like it weighed nothing. he made it look easy, just like he made everything look easy.
you bit the inside of your cheek, annoyed at yourself for staring. it wasn’t like he was going to notice anyway. he never did.
at first, you tried convincing yourself that he was just quiet, that maybe he was the type of person who kept his distance from coworkers. but that theory crumbled quickly when you watched him chat effortlessly with customers, throwing in the occasional charming smile or polite nod. even when his friends dropped by, he greeted them with a grin, his usual composed expression softening into something warmer.
but with you? nothing.
sure, he said hi when your shifts overlapped. he’d ask you to stock shelves if he was busy handling the register. but that was the extent of it. no small talk. no casual conversations about school or life outside the store. just simple, impersonal exchanges that made you feel more like background noise than an actual person.
it was frustrating, really. and the worst part? you still couldn’t stop thinking about him.
you sighed, leaning against the counter, when a voice suddenly cut through the silence.
“you missed a spot.”
you jolted, your grip on the rag tightening as you turned to see woonhak standing beside you, peering down at the counter with his usual unreadable expression.
you blinked, your brain short-circuiting for a second. “what?”
woonhak pointed to a barely visible smudge near the register, his tone as casual as ever. “right there.”
you quickly wiped over it, heat creeping up your neck. of course, the first real thing he says to you all shift has to be about cleaning. not school, not work, not even some throwaway comment about the weather—just that.
when you looked up again, he was already walking away, disappearing into the stockroom like the moment hadn’t even happened.
you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, staring after him in disbelief.
was he really that oblivious? or was he doing this on purpose?
either way, it was driving you insane.
the more time you spent working at the store, the more you started noticing the little things about woonhak. not the obvious things—like the way customers always gravitated toward him or how effortlessly he balanced school and work—but the smaller details, the ones you weren’t sure anyone else even paid attention to.
for instance, the way he hummed under his breath when he thought no one was listening. it was always something soft, barely audible over the hum of the refrigerators. sometimes, it was an old song playing faintly through the store’s speakers; other times, it was just a melody with no real pattern. you caught yourself lingering near the aisles whenever it happened, pretending to fix the same row of snacks just to hear it a little longer.
he also had this habit of organizing snacks by color. at first, you thought it was just him being efficient, but then you realized he did it even when it wasn’t necessary. the chips, the candies, even the energy drinks—if he was stocking the shelves, they always ended up arranged in a neat, color-coordinated gradient.
“you know, no one really cares if the ramen cups go from red to yellow,” you teased one evening, watching as he rearranged a row of instant noodles.
woonhak didn’t even look up. “yeah, but it looks better like this.”
you tilted your head, studying his expression. he wasn’t doing it for the customers. he wasn’t even doing it because his dad expected the shelves to look nice. he just liked things a certain way. it was oddly endearing.
but the thing that really got to you? the way he sometimes looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.
it started small. you’d glance up from the register and catch his eyes flickering away too quickly. or you’d be restocking the shelves and feel the weight of his gaze just before he turned back to whatever he was doing. at first, you thought you were imagining it, that maybe you just wanted him to look at you so badly that your mind was playing tricks on you.
but then it kept happening.
like that time you were leaning against the counter during a slow shift, absentmindedly fiddling with a snack wrapper, when you felt it—that unmistakable pull of someone’s stare. you turned your head just in time to see woonhak, standing by the fridge section, looking right at you.
his expression was unreadable, but his eyes held something unfamiliar, something you couldn’t quite name.
the second your eyes met, he looked away, pretending to check the labels on the bottled drinks.
your heartbeat stuttered.
maybe he wasn’t as oblivious as you thought.
—
the storm rolled in without warning. one moment, the sky outside the store was a deep navy, the streetlights flickering lazily against the pavement. the next, rain was hammering against the windows, wind howling through the cracks in the doors. then—darkness.
the hum of the refrigerators cut out, the overhead lights flickered once, then died. the only thing left was the soft, eerie glow of the emergency lights lining the walls.
“great,” you muttered, setting down the inventory clipboard you’d been pretending to work on.
behind the counter, woonhak sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. he tapped the screen. “no signal.”
of course. just your luck to be stuck in a blackout, in a convenience store, alone with woonhak.
you shifted awkwardly, glancing at him. “should we, uh… do something? or just wait it out?”
he looked around, eyes scanning the dimly lit store. “well, we can’t close up, and we can’t leave.” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “guess we’re stuck here for a while.”
with nothing else to do, the two of you sat down on the floor near the counter, backs against the shelves stocked with instant noodles. the emergency lights cast a faint, bluish glow over his face, making his features look softer, almost unreal.
for a while, neither of you spoke. the silence wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but it was heavy, like something unspoken was lingering between you. then, out of nowhere, woonhak let out a small, breathy chuckle.
“this is kinda weird, huh?” he mused.
you turned to him. “what is?”
“being here like this. we’ve worked together for months, but this is probably the longest we’ve ever talked.”
you blinked, taken aback by his sudden honesty. “yeah. you’ve always been... kind of hard to talk to.”
he raised an eyebrow. “hard to talk to?”
“i mean, you’re quiet. you don’t really say much unless it’s about work,” you admitted, hugging your knees. “honestly, i wasn’t sure if you even liked me.”
woonhak tilted his head slightly, studying you. “i never disliked you,” he said after a pause. “i just… don’t always know what to say.”
you looked at him, waiting, sensing there was more.
he exhaled, leaning his head back against the shelves. “it’s kinda dumb, but… i feel like i don’t have time to just—talk. i’m always thinking about what i should be doing next. school, work, helping my dad. it’s a lot, you know?”
his voice was quieter now, the usual steadiness replaced with something more fragile.
“because you’re the eldest?” you asked softly.
he nodded, a rueful smile tugging at his lips. “yeah. i don’t really have a choice. my dad relies on me, and i don’t want to let him down. sometimes, i think about what i actually want to do, but then i feel guilty, like i’m being selfish.”
for the first time, you saw him not as the woonhak that everyone admired—the perfect son, the dependable coworker—but as a boy who was just… tired.
hesitantly, you said, “i get it. maybe not in the exact same way, but… i understand what it’s like to feel like you have to be something for everyone else.”
he turned to you, intrigued. “yeah?”
you nodded, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “i’ve always felt like i had to prove something. like if i don’t push myself hard enough, i’ll just… fade into the background. i guess that’s why i’ve always been so frustrated with you.”
he blinked. “with me?”
you let out a small laugh. “yeah. you make everything look so easy. it’s like you don’t even have to try, and meanwhile, i’m over here struggling to keep up.”
woonhak was quiet for a moment, then—to your surprise—he smiled. not his usual polite smile, but something softer, more real.
“i didn’t know you thought that,” he murmured. “if it makes you feel any better, i think you work harder than anyone else here.”
you felt your face warm, looking away. “you’re just saying that.”
“no,” he said simply. “i’m not.”
the air between you shifted, something settling into place. and for the first time since meeting him, you didn’t feel invisible.
—
the change was subtle at first, but once you noticed it, you couldn’t unsee it.
woonhak was everywhere.
he was always near, always teasing, always finding little excuses to talk to you. he stopped treating you like just another co-worker and started acting like… well, like someone who actually wanted to be around you.
one evening, after an unusually slow shift, you were restocking shelves when you accidentally knocked over a row of neatly stacked chip bags.
“careful,” woonhak drawled from behind you, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. “you break it, you buy it.”
you huffed, bending down to pick up the fallen bags. “do you ever actually help, or do you just stand there and make fun of me?”
“oh, i definitely just stand here and make fun of you,” he said, grinning.
you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.
and then there was the way he waited for you after shifts. at first, you thought it was a coincidence—maybe he just happened to finish work at the same time as you. but then it happened again. and again.
“why are you still here?” you asked one night, shoving your hands into your jacket pockets as you locked up the store.
woonhak stretched lazily, as if he hadn’t been waiting outside for you. “it’s dark out.”
“so?”
he gave you a pointed look. “might as well walk together.”
you narrowed your eyes. “but your house is—”
“doesn’t matter.” he started walking ahead, then glanced back at you, raising an eyebrow. “you coming, or what?”
you hated how easily he did this—how effortlessly he inserted himself into your routine, into your life, like he had always been there.
you groaned, but the truth was, you liked it. you liked how he matched his pace with yours, how he walked on the side closest to the street, how he never let the conversation die out even when you weren’t sure what to say.
and then there were the snacks.
at first, it was small. a bag of your favorite chips left near the register, a cold drink placed beside your bag without a word. when you asked about it, he’d just shrug.
“it’s nothing.”
but it wasn’t nothing.
one afternoon, after a particularly long shift, you found a neatly wrapped rice ball waiting for you in the breakroom.
you picked it up, turning it over in your hands. “did you—”
“you haven’t eaten, right?” woonhak interrupted, not looking at you as he busied himself with the stock list.
you blinked. “how did you know?”
“you always forget when you’re working.”
your heart stuttered at his words.
he noticed.
he was noticing you now. really noticing you.
you unwrapped the rice ball slowly, trying to ignore the way your hands felt unsteady. “thanks,” you muttered.
woonhak finally looked at you then, and for once, his usual teasing expression softened into something quieter. “don’t mention it.”
and that was how it was. little moments, little gestures, little things that all added up to something bigger.
you weren’t sure what it was, not yet. but you liked it.
and just as you started to believe that maybe, just maybe, this was turning into something more—
you overheard the conversation.
—
it was late, your shift nearly over, when you heard woonhak’s father speaking in hushed tones near the back of the store.
“it’s a big opportunity, woonhak. you’d be crazy to pass this up.”
you froze, your hand tightening around the stack of receipts you’d been organizing.
“i know,” woonhak replied, his voice lower than usual. hesitant.
you inched closer to the back of the store, staying just out of sight behind one of the shelves.
“then what’s the problem?” his father pressed. “you’ve worked hard for this. this isn’t just about the store—this is about your future.”
there was a pause. a long, heavy silence.
then, woonhak exhaled. “it’s just... sudden.”
“that’s how these things work. you don’t always get time to think. you have to act.” his father’s voice softened slightly. “listen, i know you worry about me, about the store, but i’ll be fine. this is your chance to do something more, something bigger than this place.”
your stomach twisted.
what was he talking about? what opportunity? where would it take him?
and why—why did it feel like something was slipping through your fingers before you even had the chance to hold it?
you heard woonhak sigh, the kind he let out when he was deep in thought, troubled.
“i just need time,” he murmured.
his father didn’t push him further, only replying, “just don’t take too long, son.”
you stood frozen behind the shelves long after the conversation ended, your heart pounding in your ears.
because you already knew.
whatever this was—whatever had been growing between you and woonhak, however slowly, however subtly—it wasn’t going to last.
the next few days felt different. not because anything had changed—woonhak still teased you, still left snacks by the register, still waited for you after your shifts like it was the most natural thing in the world. but now, there was something unspoken hanging in the air between you.
you weren’t sure if he knew you had overheard. part of you wanted to pretend you didn’t, to pretend things were the same. but you weren’t sure how long you could keep up the act when every moment with him suddenly felt like it had an expiration date.
then one night, as the store’s closing time approached, woonhak finally said it.
“can we talk?”
you turned to him, heart pounding. “yeah.”
he hesitated before pulling you outside, the cool night air wrapping around you both. the neon lights from the store’s sign buzzed softly above you, casting a faint glow over his face.
for a moment, he just looked at you, like he was trying to memorize something. then, he sighed.
“you heard, didn’t you?”
you swallowed. “yeah.”
woonhak let out a dry chuckle, looking down at his shoes. “figured. you’re not exactly subtle when you eavesdrop.”
“shut up,” you muttered, but there was no real bite to it.
he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “it’s a scholarship. a really good one. i’d be studying abroad for a year—maybe longer, if things go well.”
your chest tightened. “that’s… amazing.”
he scoffed. “you don’t sound like you mean that.”
“no, i do.” you forced a smile. “this is everything you’ve worked for, right?”
“yeah,” he said, but his voice was uncertain. he wasn’t looking at you anymore, staring out at the empty street instead. “but… i don’t want to leave you alone.”
you blinked, caught off guard by his honesty.
he turned back to you, his usual teasing expression replaced with something raw, something real. “i mean it. the thought of being somewhere new, somewhere exciting—it should make me happy, right? but all i can think about is how i won’t be here. with you.”
your throat felt tight. because a few months ago, you never would have imagined hearing those words from woonhak. back then, you weren’t even sure he noticed you. and now here he was, standing in front of you, telling you he didn’t want to leave you behind.
but you couldn’t let him stay just for you.
you reached out, poking his forehead lightly. “you’re an idiot.”
he blinked. “what—”
“you have to go, woonhak,” you said softly. “you’d regret it if you didn’t.”
he frowned. “but—”
“but nothing,” you cut him off, smiling a little. “you won’t lose me.”
he stared at you, and for once, he didn’t have a witty comeback.
you took a deep breath. “i’ll wait for you. no matter how long it takes.”
woonhak exhaled, shaking his head with a small, incredulous laugh. “you’re serious?”
“dead serious.” you tilted your head at him. “what, do you not trust me?”
“no, it’s not that,” he muttered. “it’s just… funny. the you from a few months ago didn’t even think i knew you existed, and now you’re out here promising to wait for me.”
you felt your face heat up. “shut up.”
but woonhak was grinning now, his usual self creeping back in. “you’re kind of romantic, you know that?”
“don’t push it.”
he laughed, then—to your surprise—reached out and ruffled your hair. “alright, fine. i’ll go. but only because you said you’d wait for me.”
you swatted his hand away, scowling. “like you weren’t gonna go anyway.”
“nope. i was seriously considering staying.” he gave you a lopsided smile, and something about it made your heart ache. “but i guess i have to make this count now. wouldn’t want to keep you waiting too long.”
you rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.
and when he walked you home that night, he stayed a little longer by your door, hesitating like he had something more to say.
but instead of words, he reached out, carefully intertwining his pinky with yours.
a silent promise.
“wait for me,” he murmured.
you squeezed his hand, grinning. “i already said i would, didn’t i?”
and as woonhak laughed, shaking his head like you were the most ridiculous person in the world, you realized something.
for the first time, you weren’t afraid of losing him. because somehow, in his own way, woonhak was waiting for you too.
genre: fluff, established relationship, just taesan being the sweetest !! pairing: bf!taesan x afab!reader wc: 704 warning: reader burnt her hands lol listen: bad — wave to earth
it was routine at this point. every time you and taesan had a date, you were always the first to start getting ready, and taesan, knowing how much time you took, would be the last to hop in the shower. it never bothered him. if anything, he found it endearing how much effort you put into looking your best, even though he constantly reminded you that you were beautiful just the way you were.
this morning was no different—or so he thought. after breakfast, you disappeared into the bathroom, and as usual, taesan waited for you to finish before taking his turn. by the time he stepped out of the shower, towel draped around his neck, he expected to see you standing in front of the mirror, putting the final touches on your curled hair.
instead, you were still seated at the vanity, one side of your hair straight while the other was only half curled. more importantly, you weren’t moving. your hands rested limply in your lap, and when taesan looked closer, he noticed the tears welling in your eyes.
his heart dropped.
“hey, what’s wrong?” he asked, rushing over to you.
you didn’t answer immediately, your gaze flickering to your hand, where an angry red burn had already started forming along your fingers. taesan’s eyes widened in alarm.
“did you burn yourself?” he asked, crouching beside you, carefully taking your injured hand in his.
you let out a shaky breath. “yeah,” you muttered. “it’s not just a little burn either. it’s going to scar.”
taesan frowned, gently brushing his thumb over the unburned skin on your palm. “why didn’t you call me?”
“i thought i could handle it,” you admitted, glancing at the mirror with a defeated sigh. “but now i don’t even know what to do with my hair.”
taesan’s gaze followed yours, taking in the uneven curls. then, without hesitation, he straightened up and held out his hand. “give me the curling iron.”
you blinked at him. “what?”
“you heard me.” he reached for the curling iron, but you pulled it back instinctively.
“taesan, you don’t know how to use this.”
he scoffed, tilting his head. “you underestimate me.” then, gently, he placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face the mirror. “come on, let me do it.”
hesitant but intrigued, you handed him the curling iron. he took it confidently, wrapping a strand of your hair around the barrel with a precision that shocked you. he held it in place for the right amount of time before releasing it, letting the curl bounce into place.
your eyes widened. “wait… how do you know how to do this?”
taesan smirked, continuing his work as if he’d been styling hair for years. “i watch you do it all the time. guess i picked it up.”
“you… learned how to curl hair just from watching me?” you asked, laughing softly despite yourself.
“yeah,” he said, shrugging. “plus, i’ve seen enough k-dramas where the guy helps his girl get ready. i figured it couldn’t be that hard.”
he worked diligently, carefully curling each section of your hair, making sure to keep his fingers far from the hot iron so he wouldn’t end up burning himself too. the concentration on his face was almost adorable, his brows furrowed slightly, lips pursed in focus.
a few minutes later, he stepped back, admiring his work. “there,” he said proudly. “good as new.”
you turned your head side to side, examining the curls in the mirror. they were perfect. better than what you had done yourself.
“okay, i’m officially impressed,” you admitted, looking up at him.
taesan grinned. “i accept payment in the form of kisses.”
rolling your eyes, you reached up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. he turned his head at the last second, making you land on his lips instead.
“taesan!” you gasped, swatting at him.
he only laughed, leaning down to peck your forehead before grabbing your uninjured hand. “come on, let’s go before we’re late.”
you squeezed his hand, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the curling iron burn. “thank you,” you murmured.
taesan gave you a soft smile, intertwining his fingers with yours. “always.”
genre: fLUFF, established relationship, leehan best boy !! pairing: bf!leehan x afab!reader wc: 793 warning: tooth rotting fluff, jk. none, js two love birds listen: dance with me — beabadoobee
the morning light barely filters through the curtains, but leehan is already awake. the soft rustle of his movements stirs the quiet of the room, but he’s careful not to wake you. you don’t notice the faint hum of the kettle boiling in the kitchen or the clink of a spoon against ceramic as he prepares your coffee. just the way you like it—no sugar, just enough milk to make it creamy. he’s memorized it, down to the precise shade of beige it turns when it’s perfect.
by the time the clock strikes six, he’s at your bedside, his voice soft and warm as he sings your name into the morning. “time to wake up, love,” he whispers, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. his voice, his presence—it’s the kind of comfort that makes waking up bearable, even on the hardest days.
you sit up groggily, and there he is, coffee in hand, a smile on his face that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.
leehan has a way of making the world feel less heavy.
—
on days when college assignments pile up, leaving you drained and irritable, he’s there. he doesn’t say much; he doesn’t need to. instead, he sits beside you, pulling your legs onto his lap, his hands warm and steady as they massage the tension from your calves. his touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s telling you with his hands what words cannot fully convey: i’m here. i love you.
he watches you with quiet admiration, the kind that makes your heart swell, and when your head droops onto his shoulder from exhaustion, he presses a kiss to your temple. “take a break,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.
leehan knows you like no one else does.
he’s the kind of person who notices the little things—like how you always forget to bring a towel to the gym or how you need tissues when you get too sweaty on hot days. so, he carries an extra towel in his bag and a pack of tissues in his pocket, just for you. he doesn’t make a big deal out of it; he simply hands them to you when you need them, his eyes crinkling in that way they do when he smiles.
“see? i’ve got you covered,” he says, and you can’t help but laugh, grateful beyond words for his thoughtfulness.
—
sundays with leehan are your favorite.
the two of you fall into an easy rhythm—he takes care of the laundry while you hunch over your desk, finishing assignments. he hums softly to himself as he folds the clothes, glancing at you every so often to make sure you’re not overworking yourself.
when evening falls, you switch roles. he lays on the couch, his head resting in your lap, as your hands knead the tension from his shoulders. “you work too hard,” you tease, earning a chuckle from him.
“and you don’t?” he counters, looking up at you with those warm, brown eyes that make your heart skip a beat.
later, you curl up together, watching your favorite tv show, his arm draped over your shoulders. it’s simple, but it’s everything.
leehan has a knack for turning ordinary moments into magic.
like the time you decided to try a new recipe from a cookbook he’d bought for you on a whim. the kitchen was a disaster—flour dusted the counters, sauce splattered onto the stove, and yet, neither of you cared.
“dance with me,” he said suddenly, grabbing your hand as your favorite song played softly in the background.
you laughed, your cheeks warm, but you didn’t resist. he spun you around the kitchen, his hands steady on your waist as he guided you. the two of you moved clumsily, tripping over each other’s feet and laughing until your sides hurt.
in that moment, the mess didn’t matter. what mattered was the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.
—
at night, when the world quiets down, leehan’s love shines the brightest.
you fall asleep in his arms, your breathing even and peaceful. he watches you for a moment, brushing his lips against your forehead.
“i love you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if the words are meant only for you and the night.
he kisses your temple, then your cheek, before finally settling in beside you. his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, and even in your sleep, you lean into him, as if you know he’s there.
leehan smiles, content, as the two of you drift into the kind of peace that only comes from knowing you’re truly, deeply loved.
LONGGG OVERDUE FOR A FOLLOW OML BUT I LOVE YOUR WORKS SMMM !! CONVENIENCE STORE WOONHAK PT2 BROUGHT ME BACK TO LIFE I SWEAR 😻😻😻
OMGGG STOPP 😭 this means the world fr thank you sm for still keeping up w my works! i’m glad you liked the pt2 this story was so close to my heart so hearing this?? i’m actually sobbing rn 😭🫶
genre: FLUFF, pookie bear lovers, pairing: crush!woonhak x afab!reader wc: 690 warning: might be too sweet!! lmk if i forgot any !! you asked for it and i delivered (jk) listen: so let's go see the stars — boynextdoor
the summer heat settled over the small convenience store, the air thick with the familiar scent of instant ramen and cold soda. the hum of the refrigerator filled the silence, broken only by the occasional rustling of snack bags as you carefully restocked the shelves—by color, just the way woonhak used to.
it had become a habit now, one of the small ways you kept him close despite the miles stretching between you.
your phone, propped up on the counter, lit up with a message.
woonhak: just got out of class. my professor hates me i swear
you smiled, wiping your hands on your apron before typing back.
you: it’s because you talk too much
almost immediately, your phone buzzed again.
woonhak: wow. so mean. do you want me to suffer??woonhak: actually, don’t answer that.
you laughed, shaking your head. this was your routine now—him texting you the second he was free, sending you blurry selfies of him looking exhausted, random pictures of his university, or even just ranting about how unfair life was. and in return, you’d do the same—long messages about customers who annoyed you, the exact number of items you restocked that day, or how the store’s cat had finally let you pet it.
no one had ever said the words out loud, but it was there. in the way he made sure to call you before bed, even when he was exhausted. in the way you caught yourself waiting for his messages. in the way you both existed in each other’s worlds despite the distance.
today was the first day of summer.
you sighed, stretching your arms before grabbing a rag to wipe down the tables. just as you reached the last one, the glass door chimed—a sound you’d heard a thousand times before.
“welcome in,” you called out automatically, too focused on scrubbing away a stubborn stain to look up.
then, a familiar voice.
“you missed a spot.”
you froze.
your heart stuttered in your chest, your grip tightening around the rag. for a moment, you thought you had imagined it. that maybe, just maybe, the distance was finally making you hear things.
but then you turned.
and there he was.
woonhak. standing in the doorway, grinning like an idiot, his arms spread wide like he was waiting for you to launch yourself at him.
and you did.
the rag dropped to the floor as you ran straight into him, arms wrapping around his waist, burying your face into his shoulder. he smelled familiar—like laundry detergent and the faintest trace of his cologne, like home.
woonhak laughed, the sound vibrating against your cheek as he hugged you even tighter, lifting you slightly off the ground.
“missed me?” he teased, voice warm.
you hit his shoulder lightly, but didn’t let go. “obviously, you idiot.”
he chuckled, rocking you slightly. “good. because i was starting to think you replaced me with the store cat.”
“the cat hates me.”
“fair. but you still like me, right?”
you pulled back just enough to look at him, and the way he was smiling at you made your heart ache in the best way.
you rolled your eyes. “unfortunately.”
woonhak laughed again, his forehead bumping against yours. “guess i’ll have to make it up to you then.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.” he grinned, eyes twinkling. “so, let’s go see the stars.”
you blinked. “what?”
“come on.” he grabbed your wrist, tugging you toward the door. “close up early. let’s go somewhere.”
“woonhak, i can’t just leave—”
“sure you can.” he shot you a look, mischievous and familiar. “you’ve been working too much. i’m back, it’s summer, and i’m kidnapping you for the night. no arguments.”
you stared at him, the warmth of his hand wrapped around yours, the way he looked at you like he had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had.
and then you smiled.
the laughter between you faded into something quieter, something softer. the weight of the moment settled in the air between you—unspoken, but undeniably there.
woonhak was still holding your wrist, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your skin. a touch so light, so fleeting, yet it sent warmth curling through your chest.
“let’s go,” he said again, gentler this time.
you hesitated, glancing toward the counter, the shelves, the quiet hum of the store that had become your second home. “but—”
“no buts.” he took a step closer, tilting his head slightly. “when was the last time you did something just because it made you happy?”
the question caught you off guard.
because the truth was, you couldn’t remember.
you sighed, half-exasperated, half-amused. “you’re really not going to let this go, are you?”
woonhak smirked. “nope.”
you rolled your eyes, but there was no real fight left in you. because the truth was, you wanted to go. you wanted to steal this night, to press pause on reality just for a little while.
“fine,” you mumbled, reaching behind the counter to grab your bag. “but if i get fired—”
“i’ll hire you at my dad’s store.”
you gave him a deadpan look. “woonhak, i already work at your dad’s store.”
he laughed, grabbing your hand and tugging you toward the door. “then i’ll pay you in snacks.”
the two of you stepped out into the warm night air, the world stretching wide before you. woonhak’s car was parked just outside, and he opened the passenger door for you with a teasing bow. “your chariot awaits.”
you snorted, shoving him lightly before sliding in. he ran around to the driver’s side, and as soon as he started the car, the soft hum of music filled the space.
the city lights blurred past as he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming lightly against his thigh. you watched him out of the corner of your eye—the way his hair fell slightly over his forehead, the way his lips curled at the edges whenever he focused.
“where are we even going?” you asked eventually.
woonhak grinned, eyes still on the road. “you’ll see.”
the drive stretched on, the city giving way to quieter roads, open fields, the sky stretching endlessly above. the stars were beginning to appear, scattered like freckles against the darkening blue.
after what felt like forever, woonhak pulled over onto a small hill, the kind of place you only knew about if you spent your childhood sneaking out at night. he turned off the engine, the sudden quiet wrapping around you like a blanket.
“come on,” he said, already climbing out.
you followed, stepping onto the cool grass, the scent of summer thick in the air.
woonhak flopped onto the ground, patting the space beside him. “best seats in the house.”
you huffed but sat down anyway, stretching your legs out in front of you.
for a moment, neither of you spoke. the sky above was endless, the stars flickering like tiny promises.
“i used to come here all the time,” woonhak said suddenly. “whenever things felt too big. too much.”
you turned to look at him. his gaze was fixed on the sky, something wistful in his expression.
“and now?” you asked.
he finally met your eyes, something unreadable flickering in his own. “now i think i’d rather be here with you.”
your breath caught.
the words were simple, unembellished, but they settled deep in your chest.
you swallowed, trying to ignore the way your heart was practically throwing itself against your ribs. “you’re so dramatic.”
woonhak laughed, nudging your shoulder. “maybe. but i mean it.”
silence stretched between you again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. it was warm, comforting.
then, he reached over, pinky brushing against yours. not quite holding your hand, but close enough to set your skin on fire.
you could have moved. could have pulled away, could have closed the space completely.
but you didn’t.
instead, you let your fingers curl just slightly, just enough for them to hook together.
and woonhak smiled.
and under the stars, with the summer air wrapping around you, you realized something—
this wasn’t just a fleeting moment.
this was something real. something yours. something you had been waiting for all along.
omg i loved ur mend me love me fic and how it was set in the 80s!! can you make more time period fics for bnd i love them sm !!
hello! i don’t think i was the one who wrote the mend me love me fic, hon... 🥹 if anything, i think the one who wrote it was @/mountaesan !! i LOVEEE everything they wrote and they’re one of my favorite writers here !!
genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, established relationship, suggestive themes pairing: underground boxer!taesan x afab!reader wc: 1153 warning: mentions of physical violence, blood/injuries (cuts, bruises, stitches), emotional distress, fear of loss, mild codependency themes, hurt/comfort dynamic listen: no. 1 party anthem — arctic monkeys
it always starts the same way.
a knock at the door — not loud, not urgent, just... familiar. three soft taps, spaced apart, like he’s giving you time to prepare for what you’ll see when you open it.
you never are.
you swing the door open and there he is — bruised, bleeding, barely standing. he tries to smile, but it tugs at a split lip, and you immediately step aside to let him in, your heart slamming against your ribs like it wants to escape the moment before it breaks.
“don’t say anything yet,” he says, voice rough. “let me shower. i’ll be easier to look at after.”
you don't answer. you just nod, throat tight, and grab a towel while he drags himself toward the bathroom.
you hate this part — the waiting. the sound of the water running as it washes away blood you didn’t get a chance to clean. the way your hands shake as you lay out gauze and antiseptic and stitch kits like it’s routine. like you haven’t cried over this exact setup more times than you can count.
he steps out fifteen minutes later, hair dripping, body clean but riddled with fresh bruises. a deep purple welt blooms across his ribs, and there’s a long, angry gash above his eyebrow that still seeps a little blood. he's got a towel around his waist and tired eyes locked on yours.
“sit,” you say, voice flat, pointing to the bathroom counter. you’re too tired to yell. too scared to fall apart.
he obeys.
you press a clean cloth to his wound, just a little too firmly. he winces but doesn’t move away.
“you’re gonna get yourself killed one day,” you say. your voice comes out quieter than you meant it to. smaller.
“i’ve had worse,” he mutters.
your hands freeze.
"that’s not the point, tae.”
he sighs. “i know.”
“no, you don’t. because if you did, you wouldn’t keep doing this. you wouldn’t come home every other night with new wounds and old ones ripped open again. you wouldn’t keep making me wonder if the next time the door knocks... it’ll be someone else telling me you didn’t make it.”
the words hang heavy in the air, thick and shaking. he stays silent.
you bite the inside of your cheek to stop it from trembling. you dab at his brow, slower this time, careful. “you don’t have to break yourself to be enough.”
he looks down at his hands. his knuckles are torn open — fresh from tonight. “it’s all i know. fighting… it gives me something. i feel like myself in the ring. it’s the only place i know who i am.”
“and who are you when you’re not bleeding?”
he looks up, startled by your question.
you’re not angry anymore. just aching. tired in a way that sleep won’t fix.
“when you’re here,” you say, voice soft, “with me… who are you then?”
he stares at you, chest rising and falling unevenly. “i’m yours.”
you nod slowly. “then act like it. stay. stop choosing pain over peace. stop making me watch you fall apart just so you can feel whole for a few minutes in a ring.”
“i can’t just walk away from it—”
“i’m not asking you to quit,” you say quickly. “i’m asking you to survive.”
he looks like he wants to argue, but he doesn't. instead, he lets you tend to him — your fingers gentle now as you clean the gash and close it with small, precise stitches. you dab antiseptic over his knuckles, wrap them carefully, and by the time you’re done, your hands have stopped shaking.
but your heart hasn’t.
“you don’t have to do this alone,” you whisper, more to yourself than him. “you don’t have to keep hurting just to prove something.”
his hand reaches out, shaky and hesitant, and finds yours.
“i’m scared,” he admits.
“of what?”
“of being nothing if i’m not fighting.”
you step between his legs, cradle his jaw with both hands, and lean your forehead against his. “you’ll never be nothing. not to me.”
he pulls you into him like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. your arms wrap around his neck as his settle on your waist, and suddenly it’s too much — the fear, the relief, the way he still smells like blood and sweat and safety.
you kiss him — soft, slow, like you're stitching him back together with your lips. it’s not rushed, not desperate, just… tender. the kind of kiss that says i see you. all of you. and i’m still here.
your lips brush against his once, twice, a gentle question, and when he kisses you back, it’s like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. like he’s been starved for something only you can give. his hands tighten at your waist, not to pull you closer — you’re already as close as you can be — but to ground himself, like the feel of you is the only thing tethering him to this world.
his breath shudders against your cheek, and your thumb traces the line of his jaw, careful not to press against any bruises. his skin is warm beneath your fingers, flushed from the shower, from the fight, from you.
you feel it in the way his lips linger — how they tremble just a little when you deepen the kiss, how he sighs softly into your mouth like he’s finally letting go of everything he’s been holding in.
your fingers slide into his hair, still damp, and he tilts his head just enough for the kiss to deepen, mouths moving together in a quiet, aching rhythm. it’s not about passion, not really — it’s about presence. about showing him that he’s more than the blood, the pain, the fight.
when you pull back, just a breath away, his forehead stays pressed to yours. his eyes are closed, lashes damp, and he looks so young like this. like the boy underneath all the bruises is still learning how to be loved.
you press another kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then the cut above his brow. “you’re okay,” you whisper between each kiss. “you’re here. you’re home.”
his hands cup your face then, rough knuckles brushing your skin so delicately it makes your chest ache. he opens his eyes and looks at you like he’s never seen you before — or maybe like he’s finally seeing you the way you’ve always seen him.
“don’t go,” he whispers.
you lean in again, pressing your lips to his in an answer. slow, certain, full of every silent promise you’ve ever made him.
“i’m not going anywhere,” you breathe. “not as long as you keep coming back to me.”
and in that moment, with bruises still darkening and your hands still stained from cleaning his wounds, he feels whole — not because he’s healed, but because you’ve made space for every broken part of him.
titsay
stormborns
snowghoul
kianamaiart
kaledo-art
yousharknotpass
jbbartram-illu
tangentwithtanner
annaxmalina