not rrlly a request but do u have any writing tips? i wanna start writing fics but idk how to write good..
My advice is “just start writing”. Sorry to disappoint you but i don’t really have any tips. When i write fics , first i write down the idea in small words in my book and yk the scenes flow and then i write in my book , turn the words into sentences and look up for the similar words in google. I kinda don’t like all my writing especially the first one but some people appreciate those and i feel happy. So just remember someone needs your writing and write. I promise if you send me your writing, i will read it. 💕
As soon as you spot Seongje, your thoughts spiral instantly.
For a second, you consider turning around and taking another road home.
But then your stomach growls, painfully reminding you that you actually need to eat.
Why am I acting like this anyway ?
Just go in, grab food, leave.
At least, that’s what you tell yourself.
Seongje clearly has other plans.
He’s sitting outside the convenience store with a bowl of ramen in front of him, one arm lazily resting on the table.
Then he notices you.
A grin immediately spreads across his face as he lifts his hand and waves you over.
You hate how normal he looks.
Like yesterday didn’t exist.
Great.
You sigh quietly and cross the road anyway, making your way toward him.
“I saw you trying to avoid me,” he says, clearly entertained.
“You should probably get your eyesight checked,” you shoot back. “It’s getting seriously bad.”
He laughs.
You can’t tell if he’s laughing at you or genuinely amused, but either way, it makes something flutter in your chest.
It shouldn’t.
“So,” he says before taking another bite of noodles, “are you gonna keep standing there, or are you actually getting food?”
“I’m just grabbing something.”
“Oh, come on.” He gestures to the seat across from him with his chopsticks. “Sit with me.”
You roll your eyes at him, annoyed at yourself more than anything, and walk into the store
Cold air brushes against your skin as the automatic doors slide shut behind you.
Rows of snacks and drinks stretch across the store, but you barely know what you’re looking for anymore. You pull out your wallet and quietly check the money you have left.
Just enough for a cup of ramen. Off-brand, obviously.
You grab one from the shelf before making your way to the register, paying quickly without looking up too much. After that, you head to the small counter near the microwaves to prepare it, taking your time on purpose.
Anything to avoid thinking about the fact that Seongje is still waiting right outside.
Your ramen is finally ready, and at this point, there’s not much else you can do to stall.
If you stay any longer, you’ll just start looking suspicious.
So, with a quiet sigh, you accept your fate and step out of the store.
The second the doors slide open, your eyes immediately land on him.
Seongje glances up from his phone when he sees you, a small grin on his face.
“Yeah, don’t get all worked up. I just didn’t have food at home, I had to buy something.”
“And yet you’re sitting with me,” he says, teasing you.
You fight the urge to roll your eyes again as you sit across from him, carefully avoiding looking at him for too long.
His eyes drop to the cup in your hands.
“That one’s terrible.”
“Thanks. I already bought it.”
“You should’ve asked me first.”
“Why would I ask you about ramen?”
Seongje shrugs lazily. “I’m basically an expert.”
You stare at him.
“That might be the saddest thing you’ve ever said.”
He laughs again, and you find yourself smiling too.
You open the lid of your cup, pretending to focus on mixing the noodles when he says, after a moment,
“You were really trying to avoid me earlier, though.”
“Oh my God, you’re still on that? Forget it.”
“But I’m right.”
“No.”
“I am.”
“Whatever, man.”
“Yeah, sure,” he says with a look.
You take a bite of your noodles, and both of you stay in silence for a moment.
You can feel his eyes on you as you slurp the noodles, but you don’t have the courage to look at him right now.
Cars pass occasionally on the road nearby, headlights flashing across the convenience store windows. Somewhere in the distance, someone’s music plays.
“Why did you skip today?” you say eventually.
“I was busy,” he says, his tone colder now, avoiding your gaze.
You nod, like that answer is enough.
You try to move on, but you can’t help but ask again.
“Busy doing what?”
A faint smile tugs at his lips.
“Why?” he replies instead. “Did you miss me or something?”
“Oh, fuck you,” you say as you go back to eating.
He laughs now, his eyes disappearing slightly.
“Woah, calm down. I was joking.”
“I don’t care, actually,” you say flatly, finishing the last of your food. “I’m done eating. I should head back home now, it’s getting late.”
“Hey,” he says softly, grabbing your arm for a second before letting go when he realizes.
You look at him, trying to understand what he meant by that.
He clears his throat before speaking.
“Don’t start acting all bold now. Come on, we were having fun.”
“Fun? We’re at a convenience store, Seongje,” you say, one eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, so? I’m all the fun you need.”
“Ew. Just shut up,” you say, annoyed.
Liar.
As you were about to speak again, you notice a faint blue color on his knuckles.
So it’s true.
Your eyes linger a second too long, and he notices.
Seongje shifts his arms under the table, hiding his hands from view.
You don’t dare ask him what happened. You already know. And even if you did, he would deny it.
“We should go,” he says suddenly, pushing himself up from the seat.
“Weren’t you the one who said we should stay?” you ask, confused.
“Yeah, well I changed my mind.”
“I-”
“Come on,” he cuts you off, already gathering everything on the table and tossing it away before you can even react.
You try to help, but he’s faster.
You grab your bag, sliding it over your shoulder as he finishes.
“Don’t forget your phone,” he says, holding it out to you.
You take it, fingers brushing his for a second too long.
You feel it immediately and look away before it can register properly.
Something about it sits wrong in your chest.
You both walk down the three small steps outside the store and start along the side of the road.
His hands are back in his pockets, posture casual again, like nothing happened.
“I’ll walk you home,” he says.
“No, it’s okay, I- ”
“God, you’re so stubborn,” he cuts in immediately. “I said I’m walking you home. The end.”
You blink at him.
“Okay, dude. Don’t get mad,” you say, slightly stunned.
Both of you keep walking in silence.
The street is quieter now, the convenience store already fading behind you, its neon glow shrinking in the distance.
Neither of you speaks at first.
You steal a quick glance at Seongje. Still the same expression. Not showing anything.
“Do you always walk people home?” you ask, breaking the silence.
“No,” he says. “Just you.”
You scoff immediately. “That’s creepy.”
“You asked.”
You don’t reply to that.
Instead, you look forward again, focusing on the empty road ahead.
After a few seconds, you can’t help but say,
“Your hand…”
“What about it?”
You hesitate, then immediately regret starting.
“Nothing,” you say.
Seongje hums like he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push it.
You keep walking, but your eyes drift again toward his hand. He notices.
You look away quickly.
A moment passes before he speaks again.
“It’s nothing,” he says quietly.
You don’t answer.
The walk falls back into silence.
Seongje adjusts his pace slightly, staying beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“You don’t have to walk me all the way,” you say.
“I know,” he replies. “Just keep walking.”
So you do.
Until suddenly, you’re in front of your apartment.
Both of you stop.
He looks at you for a second, hands still in his pockets.
“Well,” he says, “goodnight, I guess.”
You hesitate.
Then
“Do you want to come in?”
Silence.
Your brain catches up a second too late.
What did I just say?
You already feel your face heating up.
He looks at you with disbelief, but tries to hide it.
“That’s a new one.”
“What?”
“I didn’t expect you to say that, honestly.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“I know,” he cuts in, smiling slightly. “Relax.”
There’s a beat where neither of you moves.
Then Seongje exhales lightly, like he’s made a decision without making it a big deal.
“I’ll come in,” he says.
Your brain takes a second to catch up.
“Oh.”
It comes out much smaller than you meant it to.
He glances at you.
“Is that a problem?”
“No,” you answer quickly.
He steps closer to the door as you unlock it, hands still in his pockets, posture relaxed, but there’s nothing careless about it anymore.
You push the door open.
You kick off your shoes a little too quickly, trying to pretend this is normal.
It isn’t.
Seongje stays near the entrance for a second, glancing around briefly before looking back at you.
“Nice place,” he says.
“Thanks,” you reply automatically.
Then the silence comes back again. You notice he doesn’t sit or move, just stands there.
“You can sit,” you say.
“I know,” he replies, sitting down.
You walk to the kitchen just to do something, grabbing a glass and filling it with water even though you’re not really thirsty.
Your hands feel slightly too aware of themselves.
You take a sip anyway.
Behind you, Seongje shifts slightly.
“You’re thinking too much,” he says.
“I’m not.”
“You are,” he repeats, calmer this time.
You can feel him watching you without turning around.
That alone makes your chest tighten.
Then suddenly
“I know what happened, you know.”
He freezes slightly at your sudden voice.
“What?”
Seongje is leaning back against the chair now, but the relaxed posture from earlier is gone.
“I heard people talking about it.”
“Talking about what exactly?” he says, his tone colder.
“At school,” you say quietly. “About what happened with those guys.”
His expression barely changes. He already knows exactly which guys you mean.
“People talk too much,” he says eventually.
“Why would you even do that?” you say, turning around to face him.
He doesn’t answer immediately. A faint exhale leaves him through his nose, almost irritated.
“They crossed a line.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Seongje doesn’t react right away. He just watches you, like he’s deciding how much of the truth you’re allowed to have.
“It is,” he says finally, getting up and walking toward you.
Now he’s facing you fully, barely any space left between you.
Your breath catches slightly before you can stop it. He’s looking at you differently. Not softer. Not harsher either. Just focused.
“Why do you care so much?” he asks quietly.
That makes you blink.
“I don’t,” you say too fast.
He doesn’t believe you, you can tell.
His gaze drops for a second, briefly, before returning to your face.
“You’re lying,” he says simply. “And that’s all you need to know. I’m not talking about this anymore.”
You don’t answer immediately.
You were ready for more words, but there’s nothing.
Like the conversation has already ended in his head, even if yours is still catching up.
You open your mouth slightly, then stop.
Because whatever you were going to say doesn’t feel solid anymore.
“What were you going to say?” he asks.
“Nothing. You said you’re not talking about this anymore,” you reply, irritated, almost embarrassed.
You don’t wait for his response. You move past him, leaving the kitchen and stepping into the living room.
A second later, you hear him follow.
And something in you tightens because of it.
Because it’s always like this, him never fully explaining, never fully saying anything that actually makes sense to you. Just enough to shut things down. Just enough to stay in control.
You hate that it gets to you this easily.
Tears start to form in your eyes before you can stop them. You tilt your head slightly, quickly, like it might push it back down before it shows.
Like he won’t notice.
“Hey” he says, awkwardly.
“I’m fine,” you say sharply.
“I didn’t mea-”
“Yeah, I know,” you cut him off. “You never mean to.”
A beat.
“Where is this going?” he asks.
He doesn’t get an answer right away.
Your mouth opens slightly, then closes again.
Because you don’t actually know.
Then Seongje exhales softly, like he’s given up trying to read you from a distance.
A tear slips down your cheek.
You don’t even notice it at first.
And before you can lift your hand to wipe it away, his hand is already there.
He brushes it off your skin with his thumb careful, almost hesitant, like he didn’t fully think before doing it.
You shiver at the touch and he notices immediately.
His hand pulls back instantly, awkward and unsure.
“Sorry,” he says quietly.
The word lands differently than you expect.
That alone is enough for the tightness in your chest to loosen slightly, not gone, just unsettled in a different way now.
He never says that.
You look away first.
Your body hasn’t decided what emotion it’s supposed to stay in.
He shifts slightly, like he’s about to step back properly this time.
“Do you want me to go?”
“I don’t know,” you say, dropping your head.
Then you feel him move closer again, not sudden, not confident. More like a decision he’s making as he goes.
His hand hesitates in the air for a second before gently brushing through the side of your hair, slow and careful. Not forcing anything. Just there, like he’s testing whether you’ll push him away.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, quieter this time.
That does it.
Your shoulders loosen slightly, like something you’ve been holding up for too long finally stops resisting.
You don’t even realize you’re moving until you are.
Your head tilts forward just enough to rest against his chest.
His hand stills immediately.
For a second, he doesn’t react at all, like he’s afraid that if he moves, you’ll disappear or change your mind.
Then his hand settles on the back of your head, gently, almost cautiously at first, before steadying.
“Hey,” he says again, softly.
“You’re an asshole, you know that,” you say against him.
He lets out a small, uneven breath, almost a laugh, but not really.
“Yeah,” he says quieter. “Probably.”
Neither of you moves right away.
His hand is still in your hair, like he hasn’t fully decided to let go yet.
“I should go,” he says, but he doesn’t sound fully convinced. “You’re tired.”
You try to hide the disappointment as you slowly lift your head from his chest.
Your hair falls forward, partly covering your face.
Before you can fix it, he reaches out, brushing it gently to the side, careful, almost absent minded, like it’s instinct rather than thought.
“Yeah, okay,” you say in a whisper.
He drops his hand and looks at you for a last moment before heading to the door.
“Text me when you get home,” you say, voice light again, slipping back into sarcasm. “You know, in case you get kidnapped.”
“I’ll do that,” he says with a small smile, before closing the door.
the years between us | han su-gang and she spent half their lives pretending they didn’t want each other. A cheating scandal, a luxury wedding cruise, and years of buried jealousy later, that lie finally starts falling apart.
han su-gang x reader . sensual . 6.4k words
Han Su-gang was a person she had known for so long that separating her life from his felt almost impossible. From the moment she entered the world, he had already been there. Not by much. Just a few months older than her.
There was an old photograph buried somewhere inside the countless family albums their mothers obsessively preserved, glossy paper slightly bent at the corners from age, protected beneath a thin plastic sleeve that crackled whenever someone touched it.
In the picture, both of them were babies.
She was wrapped tightly in a pale pink hospital blanket, her face scrunched up in sleepy irritation against her mother’s chest. Beside the hospital bed sat Su-gang’s mother holding her own son, who was barely old enough to support his head properly. Their fathers stood proudly behind them in expensive suits, already joking about future family mergers and lifelong friendship while the exhausted mothers rolled their eyes.
That was the first picture they ever took together. Two babies too young to understand anything. And somehow, neither of them ever really left the other’s side after that.
There were hundreds of photographs afterward. In every birthday party picture, he appeared somewhere nearby like he naturally belonged there.
One photograph from her fourth birthday showed her sitting in front of a massive cake, cheeks sticky with frosting while she cried dramatically because another child grabbed one of her gifts before she could open it. In the background, tiny Su-gang, equally small, equally spoiled, looked absolutely furious on her behalf. Seconds after the photo was taken, he apparently bit the other child hard enough to make him cry too.
Their mothers still laughed about that incident.
At age five came the kindergarten field trip photograph. The teachers dressed all the children in matching yellow hats and tiny backpacks before lining them beneath rows of cherry blossom trees. Every child smiled brightly toward the camera except her and Su-gang.
She stood with her arms crossed, already impatient and irritated by the heat and beside her, Su-gang wore the exact same expression. Even as children, they looked less like innocent classmates and more like two tiny aristocrats deeply offended by public inconvenience. The teachers used to joke that the two of them were either soulmates or future dictators.
Elementary school brought sports festivals, piano recitals, award ceremonies, and endless pictures their parents insisted on framing. One sports day photograph showed her standing proudly on the first-place podium with a gold medal around her neck while Su-gang stood beside her on second place looking personally betrayed by the results. Other children grinned happily for the camera, but he stared only at her with narrowed eyes while she smirked victoriously back at him.
Another picture from the same day captured the exact moment he grabbed her arm after she nearly fainted from exhaustion behind the gymnasium. She looked angry about being manhandled. He looked angrier that she had scared him in the first place.
Neither of them smiled.
That became a pattern over the years.
Middle school was where things changed.
There was one particular excellence award ceremony photograph she hated looking at. Both of them stood at the front of the auditorium wearing dark school uniforms while holding academic certificates beneath hard camera flashes. On the surface, the pictured looked ordinary, two elite students from wealthy families receiving recognition.
But she remembered that day too clearly. To this days she blames the stupid thing called ‘puberty’ which had ruined her life. Until then, Han Su-Gang had simply been… Su-Gang. Her childhood friend, her constant rival, the boy who fought with her over everything. And then suddenly, one day, he wasn’t just that anymore.
In the photograph, his tie sat slightly loose beneath his collar, dark hair falling over sharp eyes as he stared indifferently toward the cameras. His shoulders had broadened that year. His voice had deepened unexpectedly. Even his face had changed, softer childhood features replaced with something colder, sharper, unfairly attractive.
Meanwhile she stood beside him looking perfectly calm in the picture. No one could tell that earlier that day she had locked herself inside a bathroom stall because her heart started racing after he casually leaned across her desk to borrow a pen.
That was around the time she began lying.
To everyone.
Especially herself.
By high school, their graduation pictures looked less like memories between friends and more like evidence that something went downhill. In every group photo, they somehow ended up standing far apart. Not intentionally but it just happened naturally.
If she was surrounded by her friends near the front, Su-gang would be somewhere in the back with his own crowd. If he stood near the center, she would drift toward the opposite side without even noticing it. Yet somehow, despite the distance, they always remained aware of where the other was.
It was instinct at that point.
If she won an award, Su-gang looked irritated for the rest of the day. If he appeared on stage beside another girl, her mood noticeably worsened afterward.
Neither of them thought much about it. That was simply how things had always been between them.
Both of them had their first relationships. Awkward dates hidden from news. Public breakups their parents pretended not to notice. People came and went through their lives naturally, the way relationships usually did at that age.
Han Su-gang dated beautiful girls.
She dated successful men.
And because life moved forward whether people were ready or not, the two of them slowly stopped orbiting each other constantly. At least, that was what it looked like from the outside.
By university, articles had already started comparing them publicly.
The perfect heirs.
The young successors.
Future corporate rivals.
Their convocation photographs barely looked like graduation pictures anymore. Tailored black suits. Controlled smiles. Luxury watches glinting beneath stage lights. Two future monsters of the business world standing side by side while pretending complete indifference toward each other.
---
The chauffeur opened the door for her immediately. Cool evening air brushed against her skin as she stepped out of the black sedan, the sharp heel of her show striking against the pavement with a clean, expensive click. Above her, golden lights spilled from the towering glass exterior of the restaurant, warm against the darkening skyline.
She adjusted the sleeve of her coat. Her phone screen glowed briefly in her hand.
7:47 PM.
Three missed calls from her father. Two unread emails marked urgent. One message from her boyfriend.
I’m already here.
She slipped the phone back into her bag. Normally, he would have complained first about her being late, about her prioritizing work, about how difficult it was to schedule time with her lately. But tonight, the message was unusually short. No emoji either. And that along irritated her slightly.
The hostess greeted her immediately the moment she stepped inside. “Good evening, Ms. Y/N. Your reservation party is waiting upstairs.”
Of course they recognized her. Places like this always did.
Her heels echoed softly against dark marble as she walked toward the private section.
And then she saw him. Her boyfriend sat near the window, posture stiff, both hands wrapped tightly around a glass of water he clearly had not touched. Even from a distance, something about him looked… nervous.
She slowed slightly. That was unusual too. He noticed her approaching and immediately stood from his seat. The movement almost knocked against the table.
“Hey,” he said with a strained smile.
She gave a small nod as she sat across from him. “You sounded serious on the phone.”
“I…” He swallowed. “Yeah.”
A waiter appeared almost instantly to pour her water, placing down a menu she barely glanced at before dismissing him with a polite gesture.
Silence settled across the table afterward. She leaned back slightly in her chair, studying him carefully beneath the low lighting. His tie was crooked. He kept flexing his against the glass. Avoiding eye contact with her.
For a brief moment, she wondered if he was going propose, but that thought was so absurd that she nearly laughed. “So,” she said. “What exactly was important enough to drag me across the city during quarter-end reporting season?”
He looked like he wanted to throw himself into the river outside. “I think…” he started weakly before stopping. But she waited patiently. She was good at waiting. Years of business meetings had perfected that skill.
Eventually, he exhaled sharply. “I think we should break up.”
For a moment, she simply stared at him. Not because she was heartbroken. Oddly enough, she wasn’t. But because the situation itself felt almost offensive. She had rearranged three meetings for this.
Her pride stung a little due to the fact that this the the first time she was getting broken up with. Usually it would be her breaking up with her partners. But she avoiding thinking much about it.
Until.
“I met someone else,” he admitted. “and…” he took out a card. No. An invitation. A wedding invitation. “We are getting married.”
Oh boy. He had done it. For a full three seconds, she simply stared at the cream-colored envelope resting neatly against the table between them. Something cold and dangerous settled quietly beneath her ribs.
Humiliation.
Her hands reached out to the envelope, as she opened it to see who he was marrying and the name that she read almost made her lose her mind even more. It was the girl that Han Su-gang was currently dating.
Her gaze lifted from the invitation to him, “What kind of stunt are you pulling here?”
His expression tightened instantly. “It’s not a stunt.”
She let out a short laugh under her breath. It was taking everything in her to not smash the glass on his head. “You cheated on me,” she said calmly, tapping one manicured nail lightly against the wedding invitation, “with Han Su-gang’s girlfriend.”
“Now… Ex-girlfriend,” he corrected nervously.
Her eyes glared toward him. The poor man visibly regretted speaking.
So this was what being publicly humiliated felt like. The daughter of one of the largest conglomerates in the country had just been dumped for another woman like some ordinary girlfriend in a melodrama. Worse, the woman in the question was Han Su-gang.
Out of every person in this city.
Something ugly twisted inside her chest at the thought of him eventually hearing about this.
No.
Not eventually.
He probably already knew.
“How dare you even invite me?!” Her voice raised. “You attending would make the stocks go up.” he admitted defensively. She couldn’t even believe her ears anymore. She could throw him out of the window if she could. She had given him her time when she could. Introduced him publicly. Attended his events. Remembered his schedule. Bought him gifts. Allowed him into spaces of her life most people never entered.
Was that not enough?
“You know what the funniest part is?” she asked lightly.
He said nothing.
“You could’ve cheated with literally anyone else.” Her smile widened slightly. “And somehow you chose Han Su-gang’s girlfriend.”
“That wasn’t intentional.”
“You think that bitch is better than me?”
His shoulders stiffened.
Honestly, it almost felt comedic. The sheer audacity. Then suddenly her phone vibrated violently against the table. Both of them glanced down automatically. The screen lit up with a single name.
Han Su-gang.
She stared at the screen for one second. Then answered. “What.”
No greeting. No softness. Just immediate aggression. Across from her, her ex-boyfriend visibly paled. Han Su-gang’s voice came through the phone low and sharp. “Where are you.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “At dinner.”
A pause and then, “With your cheating boyfriend?”
She went silent. He knew. And the most surprising fact was how her ex-boyfriend sitting in one piece right now. This whole situation might have been humiliating for him as well right? And given his personality, he would’ve done something.
And before anything.
He should’ve told her if he knew to save her from getting humiliated like this.
---
The television mounted across the office wall played quietly in the background, its volume low enough to sound almost polite despite the damage it was doing. She sat behind her desk with one leg crossed over the other, staring blankly at the screen while slowly stirring melting ice through a glass of whiskey she had not touched yet.
Three days. It had been exactly three days since the restaurant. The situation had only become worse afterward. Because the media found out about the wedding.
Onscreen, the news anchor spoke with carefully disguised excitement.
“unexpected relationship development between the heirs of the Seo and Park families has become one of the most discussed topics online this week…”
Pictures flashed across the screen.
Her ex-boyfriend smiling beside Su-gang’s ex-girlfriend at some charity event months ago.
Another photograph.
Then another.
Then-
A split-screen image of her and Su-gang appearing at separate business events wearing identical cold expressions beneath camera flashes.
Underneath it, bold headlines scrolled endlessly.
CORPORATE POWER COUPLES COLLAPSE. CHEATING SCANDAL INVOLVING TWO HEIRS. NETIZENS CALL SITUATION “KARMA”
Her jaw tightened slightly. From the couch across the room, Su-gang let out a humorless scoff. Unlike her, he looked completely untouched by the scandal externally.
He had the perfect suit, perfect posture, perfect composure. But she had known him long enough to notice the signs immediately. The cigarette burning untouched between his fingers. The slight tension near his jaw. And the dangerous stillness. He only became that quiet when he was furious enough to ruin someone’s life.
“The media is enjoying this too much,” she muttered.
The television continued mercilessly.
“Online reactions have been especially intense due to the unusual circumstances of the scandal, with many netizens joking that the former couple ‘swapped partners.’”
She reached for the remote.
Too late.
The screen suddenly shifted toward scrolling social media comments.
Maybe the exes deserved it LOL
Han Su-gang finally lost at something
Y/N got dumped for another woman I KNOW her ego is in hell right now
This is actually hilarious
Maybe they should date each other instead since nobody else wants them
It’s so funny how everyone supports this cheating scandal 😭
Silence. A very dangerous silence. She slowly cleaned the remote hard enough that it would break. Across the room, Han Su-gang exhaled smoke toward the ceiling with frightening calm.
The office suddenly felt several degrees colder.
“I want these people dead,” she said finally.
Su-gang nodded once. “Reasonable.”
Another comment appeared onscreen.
Their exes probably bonded over surviving toxic relationships 💀
That one did it. She grabbed the remote and muted the television violently. The sudden silence rang through the office. For several seconds, neither of them spoke. Then Su-gang finally looked toward her properly for the first time since arriving.
“You know what irritates me the most?”
She leaned back slowly in her chair. “There are several options. Be specific.”
His eyes narrowed slightly toward the muted television screen. “That man.”
Her brows lifted. “My ex?”
“He walked into your life looking like a rejected actor from a toothpaste commercial,” Han Su-gang said coldly, “dated you for two years, cheated on you, publicly humiliated you, and somehow still thinks he’ll survive this city.”
She stared at him. There it was again. That strange thing he did sometimes. The excessive hostility. Honestly, Su-gang had always reacted too aggressively toward the men she dated but she had stopped questioning it years ago.
Probably territorial rivalry nonsense.
Or ego.
With him, it was always ego.
“You’re one to talk,” she said dryly. “What did you even see in her? She isn’t even that pretty.”
For a brief moment, the atmosphere inside the office shifted into something sharp and familiar.
This.
This was normal.
They never said any good things about eachother’s past partners. This constant hostility between them had always been far more natural.
Su-gang leaned forward slowly on the couch, forearms resting against his knees as he stared at her. “You realize everyone thinks this is funny.”
“I noticed.”
“They think we lost.”
That made her eyes narrow slightly. Because there it was. The real problem. Not the cheating. Not the breakups. Losing. Humiliation. Public embarrassment. Their exes had not merely betrayed them. They had made them look ridiculous.
And in families like theirs, reputation was worth more than love ever would be.
She finally picked up her whiskey glass and took a slow sip. Then she asked calmly, “So.”
Su-gang tilted his head slightly.
“What do you want to do about it?”
---
Even later, neither of them could properly explain how everything escalated this badly. One moment they had been fighting. The next, she was sitting on his lap inside the jacuzzi of his suite, steam curling thickly into the cold midnight air while dark ocean waves crashed somewhere beyond the balcony.
Her chest pressed against his. His hands rested tightly on her waist beneath the water, grip growing harsher each time she shifted against him. And somehow, despite the heat surrounding them, Su-gang still looked furious.
“what did you just say?” he repeated sharply.
She swallowed once. “I said I liked you since middle school.”
The water shifted as Su-gang suddenly straightened beneath her, one hand tightening instinctively against her waist. “Why,” he asked quietly, “am I only hearing this now?”
She looked away briefly. “Because every time I looked at you, you were dating someone else.”
A humorless laugh escaped him at that. His grip on her waist tightened again. “And whose fault was that?” he muttered. “You kept showing up with different men every year acting like you actually liked them.”
“You dated people too.”
“Because you did first.”
The answer stunned her into silence. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The warm water moved softly around them while the cruise ship drifted through the dark ocean.
Then Su-gang looked at her again, jaw tightening slightly. “You have any idea how many times I wanted to drag you away from those idiots?” he asked quietly. “Watching them touch you like they belonged near you used to drive me insane.”
Her heartbeat stumbled violently. Because Han Su-gang had always looked jealous around her boyfriends. She just never realized it was actual jealousy.
“And you think I enjoyed your girlfriends?” she snapped back. “That woman practically hung off your arm every event.”
“She annoyed you that much?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
The question landed directly between them.
She opened her mouth but then stopped. Because the answer was suddenly obvious and all her life she tried her best to not be obvious about her feelings. Su-gang stared at her for one long second before laughing softly under his breath, like he had finally understood something devastating.
“We really wasted years being idiots.”
The words settled heavily between them.
And somehow, what was originally supposed to be a petty revenge appearance at their exes’ wedding cruise had turned into this instead, years of jealousy finally rotting through both of them at the exact same time. And neither of them knew how to stop it anymore.
Three days earlier.
The original plan has been simple. Humiliate their exes. That was it. Nothing emotional, nothing complicated. Just mutual destruction fueled by wounded pride. Su-gang and she had accepted the invitation to the joint bachelor-bachelorette cruise trip fully intending to make the show about themselves.
It was their exes greed that led them to sending invitations. Every high society face that would’ve appeared at the trip would’ve benefited their stocks and yeah, both Su-gang and her were petty enough to show up and turn the tables.
Stocks would benefit.
But not Seo’s and Park’s.
It would be theirs.
By the end of the first night, nobody was talking about the bride and groom anymore. The internet cared only about them because photographs of Su-gang stepping beside her at the harbor spread across social media so quickly that several business accounts began speculating about a corporate engagement before midnight.
Stocks actually moved.
And she nearly cried laughing when she saw that. “I love this!” She cheered while dancing around in the room, as Su-gang looked at her with a small curve on his lips while sipping wine from the couch.
Things only escalated afterward. At breakfast the next morning, they sat beside each other purely because they knew even if media isn’t allowed on the cruise, the other rich brats attending will be quick to gossip and send over the information on the land.
The second night onboard featured what the organizers dramatically called a “unity ballroom event.”
The ballroom glittered beneath enormous crystal chandeliers while ocean waves crashed softly beyond the massive glass windows. Couples moved elegantly across the dance floor dressed in formal black and gold, conversations blending together beneath classical music and low laughter.
She nearly burst out laughing the moment she realized the event included partner-switch dancing.
“This is so sick,” she muttered into her champagne glass.
Beside her, Su-gang looked deeply entertained. “Your ex looks like he’s about to start crying.”
Good.
Across the ballroom, the bride and groom already looked tense. Which honestly made sense considering the internet had spent the last thirty-six hours discussing Han Su-gang and her more than the actual wedding itself.
Everywhere she looked tonight, people were staring at them. Like everyone onboard could sense something unfolding in real time. The orchestra music shifted softly through the ballroom as couples moved across the floor beneath warm golden lights. Then suddenly the host announced the partner-switch portion of the evening.
And right now, everyone switched to the next partner and unfortunately, the first switch paired her with her ex.
The moment his hand settled against her waist, irritation immediately crawled up her spine. Around them, guests continued dancing politely while the orchestra played something soft and romantic enough to make her want to commit crimes.
“You need to stop this,” he said quietly.
She blinked once. “Stop what.”
“This.” His jaw tightened slightly while guiding her through another turn. “Whatever you’re doing with Han Su-gang.”
She nearly laughed in his face. “Oh?” she asked sweetly. “And what exactly am I doing?”
“You’re turning the entire trip into a spectacle.”
Her smile widened.
That was literally the point.
Across the ballroom, she caught sight of Su-gang dancing with his ex-girlfriend. Even from a distance, he looked deeply uninterested in whatever conversation she was attempting. His eyes lifted briefly.
Straight toward her.
Like instinct.
Her ex noticed immediately and his expression worsened. “Can you at least stop embarrassing us publicly?”
“Us?”
“You know what I mean.”
She almost admired the audacity honestly.
This man cheated on her publicly, hijacked months of media attention, invited her onto a wedding cruise for stock benefits and now wanted dignity.
Unbelievable.
The orchestra swelled softly around them. Then he made his fatal mistake. “Please stop ruining things for my future wife.”
She stared at him for one long second and then she laughed loudly. Several nearby guests glanced over immediately.
“What?” she asked incredulously. “I came here with my new boyfriend to attend your little party.” Her smile sharpened beautifully. “Be grateful I didn’t destroy your company instead.”
His face paled instantly.
Across the ballroom, Su-gang was suddenly looking at her openly now, something darkly amused flickering across his face like he already knew exactly what she had said.
The music changed again. Another partner switch. And then suddenly Su-gang’s hand was back around her waist. The difference felt immediate. Violent almost. Her ex had touched her carefully.
Su-gang touched her like he already belonged there.
The ballroom seemed quieter suddenly despite the orchestra continuing around them. Guests subtly slowed nearby, attention shifting toward them automatically the moment they stepped together onto the center of the floor.
She tilted her head slightly. “Your ex looked annoyed.”
“She asked if we were actually dating.”
“And?”
“I told her it was none of her business.”
She smiled faintly. “Coward.”
Su-gang’s hand tightened slightly against her waist. Then he pulled her closer. Not enough to scandalize. Enough to destroy people emotionally. The orchestra swelled dramatically around them while he guided her effortlessly across the ballroom floor. And honestly, dancing with Su-gang had always been a terrible idea because everything with him felt dangerously natural.
Too smooth.
Too practiced.
Like they’d spent their entire lives learning each other’s rhythm without realizing it. Around them, conversations had started fading again. People were watching them instead of the engaged couple.
And somewhere near the edge of the ballroom, the bride looked moments away from homicide. Unfortunately, that only encouraged her further. “Smile,” she murmured lightly.
Su-gang looked down at her. “Why.”
“I want that bitch to lose her mind.”
For the first time all evening, Han Su-gang actually laughed.
The third night onboard somehow became even more excessive than the previous two. Which honestly should have been physically impossible.
The upper deck had been transformed into an open-air luxury afterparty glowing beneath gold lights and towering floral arrangements while expensive alcohol flowed endlessly across marble bars overlooking the dark ocean. Music pulsed softly through hidden speakers while wealthy heirs, celebrities, investors and socialites drifted through conversations worth more money than most people would see in their entire lives.
And at the center of all of it-
Han Su-gang and she were having the time of their lives.
That was the worst part.
Because none of this felt forced anymore.
Originally, the revenge plan had simply been to ruin the spotlight for their exes. But somewhere along the way, they had started genuinely enjoying themselves.
Enjoying each other.
She hadn’t laughed this much in years.
Champagne blurred pleasantly through her system while Su-gang stood beside her with one hand resting lazily against her lower back, both of them openly entertaining groups of investors who now seemed far more interested in them than the actual engaged couple hosting the trip.
Everywhere she looked tonight, people were smiling at them.
Watching them.
Drawn toward them.
Meanwhile the bride looked progressively closer to psychological collapse.
Honestly, she almost felt bad.
Almost.
“You’re enjoying this too much,” Su-gang murmured beside her while handing her another champagne glass.
The internet had apparently exploded again after leaked photographs from the ballroom dance spread online. Their names were trending. Investors were speculating. Gossip accounts were practically foaming at the mouth.
Even onboard, guests had started treating them differently.
Unfortunately, the bride noticed that too.
And after three straight days of watching her own wedding events become completely overshadowed by the people she cheated on, she finally snapped.
She was midway through a conversation with an older CEO when sudden movement cut sharply through the crowd. And then pain exploded across her face.
The sound of the slap cracked violently across the deck.
Silence.
Complete silence.
For one terrifying second, nobody moved.
Her head turned slightly from the impact, champagne glass still loosely hanging between her fingers while strands of hair fell across her cheek.
The bride stood in front of her breathing hard, rage practically shaking through her body.
“There,” she snapped loudly. “Now everyone’s looking at me again.”
Nobody spoke.
Because they knew that stuff was going to get dangerous here. Slowly she turned her head back toward her. The bride’s expression faltered immediately, because the way she was being glared her almost gave her flashes of the future.
Which unfortunately didn’t take long before coming true.
A rock hard punch met her face, making her stumble back and knock into a table. The groom reached out to her but Su-gang stepped and held his wrist before it could touch her shoulder.
A sharp crack echoed across the deck the moment Su-gang twisted the groom’s wrist hard enough to force him backward.
“Don’t touch her,” he said flatly.
Unfortunately, the groom had apparently lost all remaining survival instincts tonight. “Get your fucking hands off me-”
Su-gang released him with enough force to nearly send him stumbling into another guest.
Around them, the entire party had dissolved into chaos. Conversations stopped completely. Phones appeared everywhere. Several horrified socialites were already pretending not to watch while very obviously watching.
Excellent.
She slowly flexed her jaw once before stepping toward the bride again. “You know,” she said conversationally, “I almost respected you a little.”
The bride wiped angrily at the blood beginning to drip beneath her nose. “You think you’ve won something?”
“I know I did.”
The bride’s face twisted instantly. “Won?” she snapped. “He chose me.”
She burst out laughing.
Actually laughing.
The sound felt almost insulting considering the situation.
“Oh my god,” she breathed. “You really think all of this is about him? I couldn’t care less about that trash.”
The crowd nearby visibly reacted to that.
The groom’s expression darkened immediately. “Maybe if you actually cared about the people you dated-”
That did it. Su-gang moved before she even could.
“Careful,” he said softly.
Terrifyingly softly.
The groom scoffed bitterly. “Why? Gonna hit me too?”
“Sure, if that’s what you want.” Su-gang replied calmly.
The bride looked moments away from a complete psychological breakdown now. “You two deserve each other,” she snapped viciously. “You’re both selfish, narcissistic psychopaths.”
And everything just went extremely downhill from here. The entire situation had four adults fighting each other like high schoolers. It was almost funny because Su-gang and her were enjoying the entire fight while the bride and groom lost their minds.
---
Later, she was in the bathroom of Su-gang’s suite. Water dipped slowly from her chin into the sink while she stared at her reflection. Beside her, Su-gang calmly rinsed blood from his knuckles beneath running water like tonight had merely been a mildly inconvenient networking event.
The alcohol in her system wasn’t helping her as she looked at him. Neither was the fact that his dress shirt sleeves were rolled carelessly to his elbows, exposing toned forearms still damp with water. A faint bruise had already started forming near his jaw from where the groom managed to hit him once.
She frowned immediately at the sight. “That looks ugly.”
Su-gang glanced toward the mirror lazily. “It’s nothing.”
Silence settled briefly between them again, softened only by the sound of running water and distant music vibrating faintly through the suite walls from somewhere lower on the ship.
Then suddenly Su-gang reached toward her face.
She froze instinctively.
His fingers brushed lightly against her cheek, turning her face slightly toward the bathroom lights. The movement felt careful despite the irritation still lingering in his expression.
The red mark from the slap remained faintly visible.
His jaw tightened instantly. “She hit you hard.”
The words came out quieter this time. Dangerously quiet.
She swallowed once. “It’s fine.”
“No it isn’t.”
Something strange twisted low in her stomach at how quickly he answered that. For one brief second, neither moved. His hand still rested lightly against her jaw.
Too close.
Way too close.
She suddenly became painfully aware of everything at once. The warmth radiating from his body. The scent of alcohol and expensive cologne lingering against his skin. The way his eyes kept flickering toward her mouth before dragging themselves back upward again like he was actively fighting himself.
Oh, that felt dangerous.
So naturally, her first thought was to ruin the moment immediately. But a second thought came. Did it even matter now? Running away from this had already stolen years from them. Years of pretending. Years of watching other people touch him while silently wondering what it would feel like if she just-
Oh, to hell with it.
The alcohol burning warmly through her system probably deserved some blame for what happened next. Or maybe not. Maybe this was simply something she had wanted for too long.
She grabbed the front of his shirt suddenly and pull him down toward her. Then she kissed him. Not is a soft and careful way, it was years of frustration collapsing at once.
Su-gang froze instantly against her mouth, like his brain physically failed to process what was happening. For one second, she almost pulled away but then his hand moved from jaw to the back of her neck, and everything got worse.
Because he kissed her back like he had been holding himself back for years. Like was angry about it. The force of it pushed her backward slightly against the marble counter, his grip tightening instinctively as though he needed to make she was still there.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
God.
This was bad. This was catastrophically bad. Because the moment he kissed her back, she realized something horrifying. Nothing else had ever felt remotely like this. Not her ex-boyfriends. Not the awkward university relationships. Not anyone.
It had always been him.
Somewhere between the heat of the alcohol and the years of tension finally snapping apart, her fingers tightened against his shirt while his hand slid against her waist, pulling her closer without hesitation.
Like he had wanted to do this for a very long time too.
The realization alone nearly made her lose her mind. When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathing unevenly, the bathroom suddenly felt too small.
Too hot.
Su-gang stared at her for one stunned second before letting out a short, disbelieving laugh under his breath.
And from there, they didn’t stop. There were no words between, the way they touched each other was enough to speak for itself. How they ended up in the jacuzzi was a mystery of it’s own.
His hands travelled slowly across her back beneath the heated water, fingers pressing firmly against her skin each time she shifted against him. The movement pulled a rough breath from Su-gang as her hips rolled against him.
His head tipped back briefly and she took immediate advantage of it. Her mouth found the side of his neck, lips pressing against heated skin while her fingers slid into his hair. His breathing grew noticeably uneven beneath her.
A quiet curse slipped from him under his breath. His muttered her name, voice rougher than she had ever heard it before. She only tightened her fingers slightly in his hair in response.
Petty satisfaction curled instantly through her stomach at the sound of his breathing.
God.
So this was what it felt like to finally have him like this.
---
After a while, the chaos between them finally settled into something quieter. She rested her back against his chest, her skin still warm from everything that had happened moments earlier. One of his arms remained wrapped loosely around her waist beneath of the water while the other rested lazily along the edge of the jacuzzi.
“Why didn’t you tell me when we were younger?” Su-gang asked eventually.
She stared silently at the rippling water for a moment before answering. “I didn’t want to admit it,” she muttered. “So I kept trying to run away from it instead.” A small humorless laugh escaped her. “Dating other people seemed easier.”
Behind her, Su-gang laughed softly under his breath. “You make it sound like dating me would’ve been worse.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
She frowned slightly.
Honestly?
She still didn’t fully know herself.
“I just…” She exhaled slowly. “I didn’t want to confess.”
The words sounded pathetic out loud. Su-gang’s hand shifted slightly against her waist, thumb brushing absentmindedly against her skin. “Then what changed now?”
She tilted her head back slightly to look at him before narrowing her eyes immediately. “Quit interrogating me.”
His brows lifted slightly.
“What about you?” she shot back. “If you liked me so much, why didn’t you confess?”
That earned another quiet laugh from him. “Darling,” he said lazily, “I didn’t exactly think you were secretly in love with me while dating half the men in the country.”
“Shut up.”
“You literally developed a coping mechanism involving other people.”
“I said shut up.”
She clicked her tongue irritably and tried sitting up straighter, only for Su-gang’s arm around her waist to tighten immediately, pulling her right back against him. Like he wasn’t willing to risk distance anymore now that he finally had her here. The realization made warmth crawl unpleasantly up her neck.
“I think I love you.” Su-gang murmured near her ear. And she quickly turned to look at him.
“You think?” She questioned, “you just think you love me?”
He was slightly confused for a second before realizing exactly what part of the sentence offended her. A quiet laugh escaped him immediately. Unbelievable.
Even now, while sitting in his lap half-soaked in jacuzzi water after confessing feelings they had both suppressed for years, she was still capable of getting irritated over phrasing.
“You’re seriously focusing on that?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“That I said think?”
“Yes.”
Su-gang laughed again, softer this time. His forehead dropped briefly against her shoulder as though he genuinely could not believe her. “You’re insane.”
“And you’re bad at confessions.”
“Hm.” His fingers tightened slightly against her waist. “Fine.”
She waited.
Some deeply embarrassing part of her actually waited.
Su-gang lifted his head again slowly before turning her slightly toward him. The teasing amusement faded from his expression little by little until only something quieter remained.
Something far more dangerous. The kind of softness she had almost never seen from him before.
“I love you,” he corrected softly.
The words landed directly in her chest. Not dramatic. Not loud. But somehow that affected her more than everything else tonight combined. More than the kisses, the touching, the years of tension finally snapping apart between them.
She stared at him silently for a moment, her thoughts completely falling apart.
Su-gang’s brows lifted slightly after a few seconds. “What?” he murmured. “Aren’t you going to say it back?”
She turned fully toward him, straddling his lap properly. And then she kissed him again. This one was soft, unlike the desperate kisses from before.
Su-gang let out a quiet breath against her mouth the moment she kissed him, his hands instinctively settling against her waist like they belonged there naturally.
“You have no idea…” she whispered between kisses, her forehead brushing against his, “how much I love you.”
For a moment, Su-gang just looked at her.
Completely still.
And then suddenly his hands tightened around her hard enough to pull a startled laugh from her as he buried his face briefly against her shoulder.
“We really were idiots.”
a/n - I genuinely don't know if this is good or bad. I was loving it when I started writing but eventually I had mixed feelings about this piece 😭 But I hope you could still enjoy something.
hii...i absolutely love your works with seongje..can you take this request where seongje is the reader's bf and he finds out they the reader is best friends with eujang gang?...thank you 🥰
Neon Reputations
Pairing : Geum Seong-Je x reader
Genre : Fluff
Warning: Mention of violence, swearing and ooc
A/N. : sry if u dun like it tho, i can’t think anything welp”) every interaction is appreciated pretties!!
Dating Geum Seongje is not all sunshine, pretty dates, and playful arguments that end with him kissing your forehead like he did nothing wrong.
There are ugly parts too.
Yes, he is attractive enough to make girls stare at him wherever he goes, charming in that dangerous kind of way that makes people curious about him even when they know they should stay away, but you also have to deal with random girls trying to flirt with your boyfriend right in front of you as if you are invisible.
Yes, he spoils you more than anyone ever has, buying you things just because they remind him of you or because you stared at them for more than five seconds, but you also have to deal with him disappearing without warning whenever Union business gets serious.
Yes, he fights well, almost too well, but it also means you spend half your life patching cuts on his knuckles and cleaning blood off his face while he sits there acting like he is perfectly fine.
And yes, he spends most of his free time with you, follows you around like your personal shadow whenever he can, and remembers tiny things about you that even you forget yourself, but sometimes he still has no idea how to communicate like a normal boyfriend instead of someone who threatens people for a living.
Being loved by Geum Seongje means being protected all the time, whether you asked for it or not.
If he cannot follow you himself, he sends Baek Dong-ha or Do Seong-mok instead, because those are the only people he trusts enough to keep an eye on you without screwing things up. He knows you are more than capable of slipping away from random Union kids if you really want to, but that does not stop him from worrying anyway.
At least he stopped sending strangers after you once you admitted it made you uncomfortable.
That alone was probably considered progress for someone like him.
Geum Seongje knows every single one of your classmates and almost all your friends, not because he enjoys socializing but because he likes knowing exactly what kind of people you spend your time with. He never outright tells you his opinions either. Instead, he silently watches them from afar, analyzing the way they speak to you, the way they look at you, the intentions hidden underneath their smiles before deciding whether they deserve to stay around you or not.
And if someone happens to be talking to you only because they want homework answers or favors?
Well.
They usually stop showing up near you after that.
You never understand why you somehow avoid fake friendships so easily, but your boyfriend makes sure of it behind the scenes.
You also have online friends, though the one you are closest to is someone named WhiteDumpling (Seo JunTae)
You never asked for his real name, only knowing that he is another high school student around your age who likes games, memes, and complaining about school as much as you do.
Of course Seongje knows about him too.
One time he logged into your Roblox account just to “check something,” ended up playing games with WhiteDumpling for almost an hour, and afterwards spent the entire night asking if you were absolutely sure WhiteDumpling was not secretly a girl.
Now, however, Seongje is out in Seoul with Na Baek-jin for some important Union business that apparently requires both of them to be there personally, which probably means somebody is getting beaten half to death.
Dong-ha and Seong-mok are busy at the bowling alley too.
And you?
You are painfully bored.
You are scrolling through TikTok in bed when a notification suddenly pops up.
WhiteDumpling22 added you to a group chat.
You blink curiously before opening it, only to find three more usernames already inside.
RED Lettuce.
KickKick.
Blackpen.
Which somehow sound even more ridiculous than WhiteDumpling.
Seo Juntae immediately starts introducing everyone like an excited child showing off his new toys.
RED Lettuce is apparently Park Humin.
KickKick is Go Hyun-tak.
And Blackpen is Yeon Si-eun.
You end up getting comfortable with them surprisingly quickly, mostly because Humin and Hyuntak talk so much that silence is physically impossible around them. The conversation jumps from manga to anime to movies to complaints about teachers assigning work like they enjoy ruining lives.
Si-eun, meanwhile, contributes absolutely nothing except the occasional thumbs-up emoji before disappearing for thirty minutes at a time.
You honestly cannot tell if he hates all of you or if that is just his personality.
Eventually, Humin and Hyuntak invite you to their basketball practice the next day.
And because you clearly make questionable decisions, you agree.
The next morning, you head to the address they sent, which thankfully turns out to be only twenty minutes away from your place. On the way there, you stop by a convenience store to buy snacks and drinks because showing up empty-handed feels wrong when you are technically meeting online friends in real life for the first time.
When you arrive, the basketball court is already loud.
Humin and Hyuntak are practically screaming at each other while playing one-on-one, both acting like the fate of humanity depends on who scores next, while Seo Juntae awkwardly watches from the side beside Si-eun, who looks like he would rather be literally anywhere else.
Si-eun notices you first.
Of course he does.
He quietly says your name, and suddenly all three boys turn toward you at once.
Humin immediately runs over like he just reunited with a long-lost sibling.
Hyuntak greets you with that stupidly bright smile of his.
Juntae looks genuinely excited that you actually came.
And Si-eun simply gives you a small nod before returning to his drink.
Very on brand.
Eventually, the awkwardness disappears.
You end up laughing more than expected, learning basketball rules from Hyuntak, listening to Humin ramble nonstop about random nonsense, and somehow oversharing your middle school heartbreak story after Juntae asks one innocent question.
Three hours pass without you noticing.
You are sitting on the bench catching your breath when your phone vibrates.
Your face brightens instantly at the contact name.
GS : wyd?
You : omg you’re alive??
You : out with friends!! yk WhiteDumpling and his friends!!!
GS : that girl?
You : HE IS A BOY I TOLD U THIS 100 TIMES
GS : whatever
GS : back this evening
You : really??? i’ll wait at your place
You : want to eat anything?
GS : hmm you
You : stop joking seongje im serious
GS : cup noodles are fine
GS : don’t tire yourself out
You cannot help smiling at your screen like an idiot.
Eventually, you tell your friends you have to leave because your boyfriend is coming back from Seoul.
Humin refuses to let you go until you promise to come to the arcade with them on Sunday.
Hyuntak tells you to block Humin if he gets annoying.
Juntae gives you two yogurt drinks “for you and your scary boyfriend.”
And Si-eun simply nods goodbye again like a mysterious divorced man trapped inside a teenager’s body.
You are rearranging the dishes for the second time when the apartment door finally opens.
Geum Seongje walks in with a wrinkled black shopping bag hanging loosely from one hand, fresh cuts still visible across his knuckles while his glasses rest low against his nose.
He still somehow looks unfairly handsome.
The moment you see him, you rush forward and throw your arms around him.
“Hi, handsome. I missed you.”
For a second, his body relaxes against yours.
“I missed you too, princess.”
His voice comes out quieter than usual as he presses a kiss against your forehead before handing you the bag.
Inside are two plushies.
Small. Cute. Ridiculously soft-looking.
You look up at him immediately.
“Thought you’d like them,” he mutters casually before sitting down at the table like he did not just melt your heart in two seconds.
You squeal softly anyway, already taking photos of them while he watches from across the table.
And honestly?
Seeing you happy like this might genuinely be his favorite thing in the world.
Not Union.
Not fighting.
Not power.
Just you smiling over something stupid he bought because it reminded him of you.
By the time you finally look up from your phone, he is already halfway through eating.
“Seongje, why don’t you shower first?”
“A shower can wait.”
You laugh quietly under your breath.
“Dirty bastard.”
He only smirks faintly before continuing to eat.
The next day passes lazily.
You two spend most of it at home playing games, watching random movies neither of you fully pay attention to, and occasionally arguing over snacks before making up five minutes later.
At night, Seo Juntae messages you.
WD : hello ___
WD : ur still coming tomorrow right??
WD : we’ll wait for u (⊃｡•́‿•̀｡)⊃
You : ofc see u tomorrow!!
You turn toward Seongje, who is lying beside you while playing games on his phone.
“Seongje, I’m hanging out with my friends tomorrow at the arcade. Wanna come?”
Without even looking up, he answers immediately.
“I’ll pick you up.”
The arcade the next day is packed with noise, neon lights flashing across every machine while teenagers crowd around rhythm games and claw machines.
You spend almost two hours running around with the Eunjung boys.
Basketball games with Hyuntak.
Zombie shooters with Humin.
Dance battles with Juntae.
Racing games with Si-eun, who somehow destroys everyone without changing expression once.
Afterwards, the five of you collapse into seats at a nearby café while debating what to order.
That is when your phone rings.
You immediately brighten at the caller ID.
Outside the café window, you spot Seongje approaching in his black windbreaker, cigarette resting between his lips while his usual unreadable expression settles across his face.
The moment his eyes land on you, his expression softens slightly.
Then he notices who is sitting behind you.
And instantly goes cold again.
You wave excitedly before dragging him toward the table by the wrist.
The reaction is immediate.
Humin’s face drops.
Hyuntak straightens up.
Even Si-eun looks mildly concerned.
“___,” Humin says slowly, staring directly at Seongje,
“are you being held hostage?”
Hyuntak subtly moves closer to you too, like he is genuinely prepared to protect you from your own boyfriend if necessary.
Seongje scoffs.
“The fuck?”
You blink between them in confusion.
“No? He’s literally my boyfriend. Wait—do you guys know each other?”
“None of you are fighting,” you warn immediately before things escalate further.
“Because I’m ordering food for everyone.”
And somehow, against all logic, they actually listen.
So eventually, they all end up sitting at the same table like some kind of cursed peace treaty that could fall apart at any second.
The atmosphere feels strange at first.
Not awkward exactly.
Just tense in a way that makes you feel like everyone except you knows something important.
You are too busy deciding between two drinks on the menu to notice the silent staring contest happening across the table.
Geum Seongje leans back lazily in his chair, one arm resting over the back while his cigarette spins slowly between his fingers, though his eyes never fully leave the boys sitting across from him.
Part of him genuinely considers leaving.
It would honestly be easier.
He knows exactly who the Eunjang guys are, and they know exactly who he is too. A few months ago, half of them would have tried throwing punches if they saw him standing this close.
But then his gaze shifts toward you.
You are sitting beside Seo Juntae now, enthusiastically arguing with him over which drink tastes better while Hyuntak keeps trying to steal fries from your tray only for you to smack his hand away dramatically.
And for the first time in a while, you look genuinely relaxed around other people.
That alone makes him stay.
Because before him, you used to have more friends.
After dating him?
Some people avoided you completely the moment they found out you were Geum Seongje’s girlfriend, acting like you personally committed crimes with Union, while others simply drifted away because they were too scared to be associated with him.
Yet through all of it, you never once blamed him for the loneliness that occasionally followed.
You stayed.
You stayed through the late nights, through the bloodied knuckles, through the disappearances and the ugly rumors and the fact that sometimes loving him meant standing beside a monster everyone else feared.
So the least he can do is let you keep the few people who make you smile like this.
Even if those people happen to be Eunjang.
Eventually, Seongje exhales slowly before looking directly at Humin.
“You bastards better not tell her anything about Union,” he says flatly, though the threat underneath his tone is impossible to miss.
For a moment, Humin actually looks surprised.
Not because of the warning.
But because Geum Seongje is willingly letting his girlfriend stay around them at all.
Humin studies him for another second before replying more seriously than usual.
“You better not break our best friend’s heart either.”
The words hang in the air for a moment.
Hyuntak immediately nods beside him like he has already decided he would throw hands if necessary.
Meanwhile, Si-eun quietly sips his drink while looking vaguely exhausted, probably wondering how his life somehow led to sitting at the same table as Union members.
Seongje lets out a dry scoff.
“What? You gonna kill me?”
“Try it,” Humin shoots back instantly.
And honestly?
You would probably be impressed by how dramatic they are if you were actually listening.
Instead, you return to the table balancing drinks and snacks in your arms while the boys suddenly go suspiciously quiet.
Your eyes narrow immediately.
“Why do you all look so tense?” you ask while placing the trays down carefully.
“You guys look like sworn enemies or something.”
“No, princess,” Seongje replies smoothly before anyone else can speak, the corner of his lips lifting into a lazy smirk.
“Baku’s just upset because he can’t pull someone as attractive as me.”
Humin nearly chokes.
“The hell are you talking abou—”
“Oh my god not this again,” you interrupt quickly before another fight starts, immediately sitting between them like a tired kindergarten teacher separating violent children.
Hyuntak bursts out laughing.
Even Juntae looks like he is trying not to smile.
And surprisingly, Seongje actually looks calmer once your attention shifts back onto him.
So you start rambling instead.
About the dance machine earlier.
About Humin almost falling during basketball.
About how Si-eun somehow destroyed everybody in racing games while looking emotionally disconnected from reality.
Most of the conversation comes from you, Humin, Hyuntak, and Juntae.
Si-eun barely speaks.
Seongje speaks even less.
But both of them listen.
And slowly, the tension eases enough that everyone almost forgets they technically used to beat each other up.
Almost.
By the time the café starts emptying out, the sky outside has already darkened into deep shades of blue and orange.
Eventually, you all say goodbye outside the cafe.
Humin reminds you three separate times not to disappear forever just because you have a scary boyfriend.
Hyuntak tells you to message them once you get home safely.
Juntae hands you another yogurt drink “for the road.”
And Si-eun simply gives you a small nod before walking away with the others, hands shoved inside his pockets.
You wave until they disappear around the corner.
Then finally, you turn back toward Seongje.
The walk home is quieter.
Not uncomfortable.
Just peaceful.
Streetlights cast soft reflections across the pavement while Seongje walks beside you with one hand inside his pocket, cigarette resting between his lips as smoke curls into the cold night air.
For a while, neither of you says anything.
Then you glance up at him.
“You know…” you begin softly, fingers brushing against his sleeve,
“Thank you for today.”
He looks down at you then, finally snapping out of whatever thoughts were circling inside his head.
For the first time the entire evening, his expression softens properly.
wolf keum x reader , 3.3k words , in which ; wolf keum tries asking you out multiple times , cw ; wolf SUCKS at communicating, fluff?, aged-up characters, bartender!reader, drinking
જ⁀➴ part 1, part 2 (here!)
1.
What do you do now?
You successfully had a conversation with Wolf on your phone.
It was the typical first conversation—greetings, a few questions, a few random pauses where you have to pretend like it wasn’t awkward, then a goodbye.
You wouldn’t call it horrible.
You also wouldn’t call it anything special.
Except you couldn’t stop replaying every word, every silence, every second after the typing bubbles appeared and disappeared.
You expected the next conversation to happen on its own, the way most things started to move after someone knocked on the door.
He had knocked.
Then the door stayed closed for a week.
You had expected him to initiate the next text. After all, he was the one who asked for your number.
From what you’d heard about him, he wasn’t shy. He wasn’t the type to wait for permission. When he wanted something, he didn’t soften it or hide it—he made it obvious.
He would walk in a room full of strangers, shout something stupid, then leave, if he wanted to. Meanwhile, even the thought of a presentation would make your stomach twist.
So why hadn’t he texted since?
You stared at your phone again.
Your thumb hovered above the screen with the usual weight of indecision.
You told yourself you didn’t want to look desperate.
You also told yourself it wasn’t desperate. It was communication. Which, by the definition, was definitely not embarrassing.
You could handle that.
Right?
You picked up your phone for the tenth time that day and set it back down immediately, as if the device could sense how badly you wanted it to fix your life by updating the conversation thread.
No new message.
You opened your notes app and began typing random things.
Study reminders. Grocery lists. That stupid plan you promised yourself you’d follow.
You deleted half of it. Rewrote it. Repeated the cycle until the words stopped making sense.
Laundry sat in the basket. Your textbooks stared from the desk like they were judging you for not meeting your emotional quota.
Still, your phone pulled you back.
Every two minutes.
You even tried leaving the room—moving to the kitchen to pretend you’d lost interest. You drank water you didn’t need and leaned against the counter, waiting for your brain to find something else to latch onto.
It didn’t.
You returned to your room and dropped onto the bed with a thud.
The mattress swallowed you.
You stared at the ceiling until your eyes burned and your chest tightened into something uncomfortable.
Just message him. Your brain insisted.
Then another thought followed, sharp and mean :
He was the one who asked for your number. He can text first.
You sat up again. You grabbed your phone and opened the chat thread.
You expected nothing like all the times you’ve checked.
You got something.
Three little dots appeared at the bottom of the screen.
Your heartbeat stumbled like it tripped on its own shoelaces.
You didn’t move. You didn’t blink. You watched the screen like it was a live performance.
Typing…
Then the dots disappeared.
Silence.
You waited longer than you should have. Your fingers curled around the phone tighter than it should be.
You told yourself he might be distracted, might be busy, might have started writing and then—
The typing dots returned.
For three seconds.
Then they disappeared again.
You stared, numb, and the screen reflected your face back at you—your expression doing its best impression of ‘calm’ while your soul was running in place.
Maybe he got called somewhere.
Maybe his phone died.
Maybe he changed his mind.
You didn’t want to accept that last one, so you refused to. You pressed your lips together hard enough to hurt and waited a little more.
Nothing.
You watched the chat window for so long the screen dimmed.
Eventually, the reality settled.
He gave up.
Your stomach sank, and you hated yourself for expecting more. Congratulations : you were now emotionally invested in a man who treated texting like a limited edition drop.
You typed a message anyway.
Short. Neutral. Not too eager.
Just : ‘Hey’.
You stared at the sentence afterward, wondering if it sounded pathetic.
You deleted it.
Rewrote it.
Deleted it again.
In the end, you couldn’t bring yourself to send anything. You set the phone face-down on your bed like it had insulted you.
Then you tried to study again.
You failed.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
2.
Bar nights were predictable. You could map them in your head—the rush times, the calmer stretches, the moments where drunk laughter blended with the clink of glasses.
You had built your routine around those patterns.
Then Wolf Keum ruined your brain by disappearing from your phone.
So, when you heard the door chime that night, you didn’t lift your head right away.
You were working. Customers needed service. A person walking in wasn’t your business.
You poured a drink for someone. You adjusted bottles. You smiled at a man who was actually polite unlike other customers.
You repeated the motions until your body felt numb.
Then you felt it.
Attention.
Not the kind you imagined from romance stories. Not warm. Not sweet.
This attention had weight.
You looked up.
Light purple hair passed through the crowd with the same certainty as always. He didn’t pause at the entrance. He didn’t call out his order. He didn’t scan the bar like he needed something.
He walked in and, for a second, the air changed.
You saw him out of the corner of your eye first—his silhouette, his shoulders, the way people instinctively made space without anyone asking.
Then your gaze met his.
He didn’t approach you.
He didn’t even come to the counter.
He went in his own direction, to the side seating where the booths hid people from the center stage of the bar.
Still, his eyes returned again and again. Brief. Unmistakable. A quick side eye that made your skin tighten and your stomach tense with irritation.
Were you being silly?
Were you reading too much into a look?
He wasn’t staring at you with softness. It wasn’t playful curiosity.
It was attention with a purpose you couldn’t identify.
He looked away when you caught him.
Not embarrassed.
Not guilty.
You forced your focus back to work. Your hands stayed busy. Your mind kept counting seconds between each glance like it was a timer for some invisible cooking competition.
When you passed the bar’s centre again, you looked over.
Wolf sat in the same spot.
His posture didn’t relax.
He held his drink but didn’t lift it to his mouth, not right away. He kept his focus on your side of the bar, where your station was.
You couldn’t tell if he was waiting or intimidating you.
The frustration grew sharper as the night continued.
You tried to calm yourself by thinking about something else—your studies, your apartment, your laundry, Alodia’s dog that she was talking about earlier, anything.
Then the door chime rang again and another customer walked in.
You served them.
But your mind refused to leave Wolf alone.
When the rush ended, you finally found a moment to breathe.
You turned, expecting him to be gone.
He wasn’t.
He still sat there, watching.
You swallowed and returned to cleaning.
By the time your shift dragged toward the end, you were tired in a way sleep couldn’t fix. Your body moved automatically. Your thoughts stayed stuck on one question.
Why did he come back if he wasn’t going to talk?
Why did he look at you if he refused to reach for you?
And why did your heart react like he was delivering flowers instead of…mystery-staring?
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
3.
You ran into him on the streets by accident.
You were on your way home after evening class, weaving through the crowded sidewalk like you were trying not to bump into everyone else’s personal space.
Your bag was heavy on one shoulder. Your phone was dead enough that you kept forgetting to check it.
Your mind was finally quiet.
Then you felt it—the weight in the air.
You turned.
Wolf stood at the corner like he had been placed there for maximum dramatic effect. Light purple hair caught the streetlights. His eyes looked the same as they always did, grey and sharp.
But his face didn’t.
Bloody bandages covered part of his knuckles.
He tried to patch himself up quickly and hoped it held through pure stubbornness.
You froze. Your body remembered danger before your brain understood the situation.
You stepped back half a pace.
Wolf didn’t move first.
Then he approached, not with aggression, but with urgency that didn’t allow hesitation.
“You.” He said.
Just one word.
Your throat tightened. “Me?”
He looked at you like the answer was obvious.
“Walk.” He ordered, and then he realized how harsh it sounded. His jaw flexed. His tone dropped lower. “Come here.”
You stared at him.
The street around you kept moving—people talking, footsteps clapping on the pavement.
Nobody seemed to notice his injuries except you, and apparently the entire sidewalk was ignoring the fact that Wolf was actively falling apart.
Your eyes tracked the bandages, the faint bruising beneath, the way his hand was held differently than it should be.
Your voice came out smaller than you wanted. “Did you get into another fight?”
Wolf’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes narrowed like you had asked the wrong question in a test he didn’t study for.
“It’s none of your—” He started.
Then he stopped.
Maybe he realized he didn’t want to argue with you in public.
Maybe he didn’t care.
Either way, he took another step toward you. “I need something."
You should have stepped away. You should have kept walking.
Instead, you did the opposite.
You insisted. “You need bandages.”
His brows lifted slightly, annoyed.
“I have them.”
“No,” You said, cutting in before fear could rewrite your sentence into something weaker. “Those aren’t enough. Look at your hand. I know what a proper patch looks like.”
Wolf stared at you, his gaze going still.
“You talk too much.” He said.
You didn’t respond. You tugged the sleeve of your bag open with your free hand. A small part of you hoped you weren’t overreacting.
The larger part of you insisted you had to fix it, because your brain apparently thought you were a designated first-aid person in this story.
“Come with me,” You said. “There’s a pharmacy nearby. I’ll buy whatever you need and you can let it get done properly.”
He looked at you like you had just suggested something in the middle of a storm.
“A date." He said suddenly.
Like the words forced their way out.
Your eyes widened.
“A—” You started.
You swallowed hard.
He was asking you out.
And he was injured.
Your priorities weren’t perfect, but they weren’t cruel. You couldn’t stand the idea of him leaving the situation half-fixed.
You forced your voice to stay calm even when your stomach twisted. “I’ll go on a date. But first you get patched up.”
Wolf’s stare sharpened.
“That’s not—”
“It is,” You insisted. “If you keep your hand like that, you could—” You stopped, realizing you didn’t know the exact medical consequences, only the obvious fact that pain doesn’t disappear just because someone ignores it.
Wolf’s jaw clenched.
People passed between you, brushing shoulders with both of you like they didn’t know they were walking through a conversation that actually mattered.
His shoulders lowered a fraction.
“Fine.” He muttered.
Your relief came fast.
You held the bandage kit you kept in your bag, then looked at him. “You’ll sit. No arguing. You can yell later.”
Wolf’s eyes flickered.
For a second, the harshness in his face softened into something else—recognition, maybe. Or surprise.
Then he looked away, like he refused to let you see him react.
“You’re annoying.” He said.
“I’m responsible.” You shot back, and you meant it. “Come on.”
Wolf followed, and you walked beside him toward the pharmacy. Your steps kept pace with his injury-protective posture.
Behind you, the city rushed.
Ahead of you, a date still felt uncertain.
But for the first time, Wolf had asked directly.
Even if you didn’t accept in the way he wanted.
Even if he didn’t get the answer he planned.
He still tried.
Which, honestly, was more than what most men in your life had ever managed.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
4.
You decided, after that, that he would try again.
The street incident couldn’t count as a success. You hadn’t said yes the way he meant it.
But he didn’t ignore you either.
So you told yourself the next attempt would come in the form of something easier. A message. A proper request. A plan.
Then four days passed.
Nothing.
No text.
No call.
No suggestion.
You kept going to class. Kept working. Kept wiping counters and serving drinks. Your hands moved without you noticing.
Your mind stayed stuck on the idea of him asking—and you insisting on injuries first.
Your brain did this cruel thing where it turned your kindness into a mistake.
He wanted a date. Your mind said.
You made it about something else.
You tried to hate yourself for overthinking.
It didn’t work. Overthinking was your hobby now. It had a routine. It paid your rent in stress.
Then one night, you saw him at the bar again.
He came in late. Not when the crowd was thick, but when the noise had already settled into a rhythm.
He didn’t look for you at first.
Instead, he sat near the back, eyes scanning the room.
When the door chimed, Alodia glanced toward your station. “You okay?” she mouthed.
You didn’t answer.
Your body already felt tense.
Wolf finally stood.
He walked toward the counter, but not directly.
He paused just out of reach, like he wasn’t sure whether committing to a conversation required paperwork.
He glanced at you.
Then away.
Then back again.
He placed cash on the counter without ordering anything.
You stared at the money as if it might explain his intentions.
“You didn’t order.” You said carefully.
Wolf’s eyes flickered with annoyance at the reminder. He didn’t speak for a moment, then muttered. “Strawberry champagne.”
You did your routine.
You slid it across the counter.
Wolf took it and sipped once.
His eyes didn’t look satisfied.
He set the glass down.
You stared at him because you didn’t know what to do.
Wolf’s eyes narrowed, like he hated being watched.
You waited.
He looked at you, then to the side again. His jaw tightened. “Go out tonight.” He finally said, voice low.
You frowned. “With you?”
“Yes.”
“Where?” You asked.
Wolf stared at you for a second too long.
Then he shifted his weight like he wanted to leave but didn’t know how.
He said nothing.
Your patience snapped into place. “Wolf, you can’t just—ask and then disappear.”
His eyes hardened.
“I didn’t disappear.” He snapped.
Alodia made a quiet noise behind you—either a gasp or suppressed laughter. She was both terrible and loyal, which was basically her brand.
Your voice softened despite yourself. “Then why haven’t you texted?”
Wolf’s gaze flickered.
Not guilty.
Not angry.
Just…defensive, like someone had stepped on a nerve.
“I was busy.” He replied.
“You could still text.” You insisted.
Wolf’s lips pressed together.
He looked at you, and for a heartbeat you expected violence—expected him to slam words into you the way he slammed doors.
Instead he exhaled sharply and turned away.
He left the money on the counter.
He left without ordering anything else.
He left you holding unanswered questions and a half-finished attempt.
Alodia leaned closer when he was gone. “Did he ask you out?” she whispered.
You swallowed.
“He…tried.” You said.
You stared down at the counter, feeling the sting of being dismissed without a clear yes or no.
Wolf Keum had asked.
Then he had retreated.
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹
5.
Wolf Keum showed up early—too early for your brain to pretend you didn’t notice.
When he walked in, he didn’t do the usual thing—no long scan, no hovering by the booths, no side-glances that made you paranoid.
He headed straight for you. Stopping at your station.
“Hi,” You said, because you were not going to be caught looking nervous.
Wolf didn’t answer like a normal person—which he never does. He didn’t smile. He didn’t even look at you for long.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded paper, and set it on the counter with careful, deliberate pressure—like he was afraid it would fly away if he didn’t hold it down.
You unfolded it.
A reservation slip. Clean handwriting. Two seats.
Café Miro — 7:30 PM
Your eyebrows lifted before you could stop them. “So you’re…asking.”
The muscles in his face tightened and loosened, like he was trying to force his expression into something reasonable and failing halfway. “Yes.”
That was it.
No dramatic speech. No clever joke. No rehearsed confession that tried to soften the impact by wrapping it in humor.
Just a blunt confirmation and an expression that said he’d already decided he’d rather look awkward than risk being silent again.
You let out a small laugh, surprised by how easy it felt. “Okay."
Wolf exhaled. His eyes flicked toward the counter, then back to you. He didn’t make eye contact long, as if looking too directly might cost him whatever nerve he’d managed to gather.
Then, quieter—like he didn’t want the words to hear themselves: “Don’t—wait too long.”
You tilted your head. “For what? You to show up?”
He stared at you for a beat. Then nodded once.
“Yes.” His face said, even if his mouth didn’t bother.
…Was he basically telling you he might be late?
You tapped the reservation slip lightly against the counter, aligning it like it mattered. “Okay. I’ll wait. But if you don’t show—”
“I will.” He cut in immediately.
The interruption was almost aggressive, like he didn’t want negotiations.
But his tone didn’t match his statement. It was too steady for panic, too tense for confidence. His hands—where they hovered near his pockets—looked like they wanted to do something useful.
You swallowed your smile, because teasing him felt like it might break the spell. “Right. And if you are late…”
Wolf paused, and you saw it—just for an instant—the way he didn’t really have a response prepared. Like he’d drafted the question in his head, but not the answer.
Then he lifted his chin slightly, stubbornness trying to cover the uncertainty. “Then…I’ll make up for it.”
You picked up the reservation slip, folded it neatly back into place. Your fingers moved without hesitation—habits you could rely on, even when your thoughts weren’t. “Alright, Wolf.”
His name sounded different on your tongue. Not softer. Not kinder.
Just…more real.
“I’ll go.”
For the first time tonight, his shoulders loosened like he’d been bracing all week for you to say no.
His eyes stayed sharp, but something behind them finally shifted—relief, quick and unguarded, like it slipped out before he could trap it again.
He didn’t thank you.
He didn’t make it dramatic.
He just nodded once, decisive. “Okay.”
And then he left.
Now your night had a time, a place, and a person who had finally stopped hiding.
kyungmi’s note. first post kinda nervousss but I’m so in love with this man you guys don’t understand! ugh.
content warning. bullying, blood, reader is depressed and feels like the world is out to get her, seongje is not a jerk ( somewhat ) falls for reader QUICK, kissing, and a whole lot of touching. that man is so touchy. love it.
now playing. . .
──── ୨୧ ──── ──── ୨୧ ────
2 months—of nothing but enduring bullying from the same group that for some reason wouldn’t leave you alone. for some reason.. hated you. so so much. why? no one knew. not you. not the others in the class with you and not a single soul protected you. stood up for you or even tried to defend you. not once. how could people be so cruel? how could people ignore bullying?
tripping you at lunch. slapping you across the face in the bathroom until your nose bled, until your cheeks were stained with tears. no one helped. no one cared to ask if you’re okay. no one stood in front of you and protected. absolutely no one. until.. seongje. the day you met him was the day the sun was bright and warm. the sky was blue and the wind blew—blew hard and forceful. a flower landed in front of your shoes and he, the seongje himself, bent down to grab it. you watched as he stared at it for a few minutes almost as if he was checking for something, something you weren’t aware of and then.. he handed it to you. it was simple. quick. he left without saying a word and wasn’t seen again for a few more weeks. a few more weeks of pure agony.
“you’re such a fucking moron. why’d you come here?”
you never said anything back. it would make things worse for you. instead you’d try to get up, fight back at times but.. the group had a few males who would use their strength against you. it wouldn’t stop no matter how much screaming you did. that was until you felt a shake. small. quick. your head lifted and beside you laid the same guy that had slapped you earlier. furrowing your eyebrows, you looked up slowly and in a weak manner. seongje. you sat on your knees and watched him take down each one that tournented you. he did it so easy. so effortlessly. quick. moves were smooth.
“get up.”
is all he said as he offered his hand for you to grab and weakly you took it. his strength pulled you up within seconds. you flinched when he raised his hand and his eyes softened but he continued, brushing off your uniform that had been ruined for the 20th time now.
“t-thank you..” your voice shaky. soft but weak.
he didn’t say a word. nodded and pulled out a pack of cigarettes which your eyes widened. smoking.. inside the school bathroom? he was trouble. so much trouble that pulled you in. you wanted more. needed more.
for the next few weeks, you saw him. his eyes would be on you already and it took your breath away. he’d wink or even smirk. something so small as that made you.. weak. fall to the ground and hope you’d see him again. you did. in school. after school. all around. he followed you and you didn’t mind. not at all. stopping at your favorite convenience store nearby—you bought all of the snacks that made you feel whole. like a human again since everything else made you feel like a rotten corpse. birds pecking at you and eating you for as long as they could. opening the gimbap package with your teeth and happily taking one, he sat next to you. he, who you already knew was seongje. the smell of his cologne and cigarettes was the first thing you could recognize and you turned to look at him. he was already looking at you with a small smirk across his lips.
“give me one.”
he was demanding but you gave him one anyway and he ate it with that same smirk. it didn’t drop. it didn’t even move. did he feel sorry for you? all of the rumors that surrounded him were true. you had seen it with your own eyes at some point. he was in the union which was a scary place filled with the most dangerous students from different schools. he was the main minion and it didn’t scare you. not even a little bit.
“why do you follow me? and.. help me?”
he shrugged. it caused a slight sting at your heart only because you thought maybe he would come up with something a bit more interesting than that. or maybe you desperately wanted him to like you in a way that was romantic. what you didn’t know is that, he did.
“for some reason i hate seeing you get bullied. usually i wouldn’t give a shit but you’re different.” he stopped to look at you, “i hate that you’re different. pisses me off.”
you didn’t say a word. turning away from him you took a small bite of your gimbap and looked out the window. watching couples and friend groups walk past. sadly you didn’t know the feeling of a friend group or a.. boyfriend in any sort of way. it was you and only you.
“follow me.”
and you followed like a lost puppy. like a pathetic girl who’s down bad for.. the bad boy. maybe you were? or maybe you liked his company so far. whatever it was, you wanted more. he walked close to you. close enough that you felt his warmth. smelt his scent which was comforting in a weird way. you had no idea where he was taking you but you continued to follow until you stopped in front of a large door. it looked creepy in a way but you continued to trust him. he led you inside and took a seat on the couch. you brushed off the side you were going to sit on and slowly sat down, looking around. his eyes? were on you. only you. always you.
“come here after school. those pricks won’t follow you or touch you. they know not to come here. not after the things I’ve done to them here. alright? come here.”
you nodded. wanting to be.. near him. always.
after school you’d come here to this same spot. he would be there and sometimes he had things to deal with which he told you to put his headphones on until he was finished. you stayed in the room he left open for you, listened to music, and took them off when he returned. it was like this for weeks. months. everyday it was something new and he even started keeping you there when he had meetings or.. a very intimidating but handsome guy there speaking with him. sometimes you’d listen and it didn’t sound like they were on the best of terms. maybe back then but not now.
“finished. come sit with me.”
so you did. you sat far so he had space but he was quick to close that space when his hand reached for your own and pulled you against him. you gasped and he smirked. silly girl, he thought. cute. soft. sweet.
“fuck. it’s been a long week. sick of this shit. you? make it better for some reason. it’s fucking annoying.”
compliment? maybe. his compliments were weird. rude but nice. sassy but rugged. he gave you chills in a way you’ve never felt them. his hand left your own and was on your waist in seconds. you jumped at the feeling but he squeezed your hip, wanting you to know he wasn’t going to do anything to you. just wanted to touch you. keep you close. “let me lay on your lap. come on.”
you laid back and so did he but he laid his head on your lap and shook it—wanting you to what? your hands were in the air unsure what to do and how to place them since he didn’t ask you, “hey. don’t be so scared. play with my hair. it ain’t going to hurt you. do it.” and so you did. slowly moving your hands into his soft brown locks that felt so good against your fingers. he was perfect even if his words weren’t exactly perfect.
you two were in this position for hours until the sun had completely disappeared and he sighed, lifting himself off your lap but he didn’t say a word. instead? he stared at you. you stared back and your entire body heated up. his gaze was.. mesmerizing. it almost pulled you in and wouldn’t let you out. slowly he inched closer to you.
without warning his lips were on yours. the kiss was not soft. sweet. or romantic. he was quick. messy. it was hot and something you’ve never experienced before but it was.. enjoyable. especially when his hands were on your hips pulling you into his lap. it wasn’t sexual but comfortable. he didn’t touch you in a way that scared you but it was enough tension. when he pulled back he stared at your swollen lips, thumb wiping them before caressing your cheek. he licked his lips before going in and kissing you again. deepening the kiss by tilting his head and biting down on your bottom lip—that’s when you pulled away and he chuckled, pushing his glasses back up correctly on his nose. “you’re so sweet.”
seongje brought you everywhere. he walked with you hand in hand at school. you sat with him during his boring meetings and he even downloaded games on his phone for you. it was quick. sudden but.. it felt so right. good. normal. as if it was meant to be. as if him helping you that day was the start to something so special and beautiful. seongje was your savior and you felt thankful that he had been there during the most difficult time in your life. no one messed with you again and not a single person disrespected you. not when he was around. not when he wasn’t around. it felt like the world had changed colors. from a dull grey to a bright and beautiful yellow that was filled with hope and joy.
“come on baby. follow me.”
he was still the same. the only difference now was he used pet names. held you by the waist, kept you close and kissed you often. his favorite thing to do was kiss you. glasses stayed on. he’d wrap his jacket around you and keep you close to his chest. kissing you down your neck and nipping at the skin in a teasing way. you’d let out a whine and he’d chuckle knowing that he was getting to you. that was his favorite thing ever.
summary; after a whole day of feeling sick, seongje takes care of you
warnings; fluff, established relationship, some swearing, use of ‘baby’, reader is sick, seongje is being soft and is completely whipped
notes; i feel like it’s too long and it might be ooc, i’m sorry if the writing his bad, i got super lazy toward the end:( also just to clarify than english isn’t my first language so if there are any mistakes, i’m sorry
the sound of rain hitting the windows was the only sound that enveloped the library, which was surprisingly very quiet at this hour.
a few people walked between the aisles looking for a book, while students sat at tables, engrossed in their homework or study books.
school ended a few hours ago, the sun was already beginning to set, the sky taking on a grayish color due to the bad weather. streetlights were already shining, some flickering like dying stars.
you were slumped over the table your friends had chosen two hours ago, your head resting against your arms as a faint snoring sound escaped your parted lips.
“[name]..” your friend that was sitting right next to you gently shook your shoulder as she tried to wake you up. but it was mission impossible. you had fallen asleep an hour ago and nothing seemed to bother you in your sleep.
your friend shook your shoulder again, this time a little bit stronger. “she’s drooling on her textbook.” your other friend who was sitting in front of you said, the both of them chuckling at the sight.
as she pulled her phone to capture the moment, you seemed to know an embarrassing amount of pictures were going to be taken and suddenly woke up, groaning softly.
you lifted your head up, feeling a pang of pain shooting right up your neck because ot the uncomfortable position you had been sleeping in. your two friends laughed even harder when they noticed the mark of your bracelets on your cheek as you looked around a bit confused.
last time your eyes were open, it was still bright and sunny. now, it was just rainy and getting dark which made you pout in frustration. “why didn’t you wake me up?” you said with your voice a bit raspy, feeling completely exhausted and sore.
your head was pounding even more than before you fell asleep, your throat hurt whenever you tried to swallow and you felt so cold. you weren’t feeling any better than this morning.
“we tried, believe us or not.” your friend sitting on your right said as she looked back at her homework. the other one stared at you for a few seconds before unexpectedly reaching over the table to touch your forehead with the back of her hand.
the touch caught you off guard, your body slightly leaning back to avoid it, but she was already making a weird grimace. “you’re burning up. are you sure you’re okay? you’ve been acting differently all day.” she said worriedly.
your other friend reached out to touch your forehead too, making you pull back again with a ‘tsk’ as you hated being touched on the face. you ended up using the back of your hand to touch your forehead anyway, feeling that you were indeed burning hot.
“i don’t know. i’ve been feeling sick since this morning. i thought sleeping for a bit would help but i just feel worse.” you spoke more quietly, scratching the top of your head.
both of your friends looked at each other with concern before looking back at your tired face. “you should probably go home. get some rest and eat something.” one of them said softly as she closed some of your open notebooks on the table.
“yeah, we’ll study with you another time.” the other said as she patted your shoulder once in a sign of affection, but you barely noticed it as your head started hurting even more. you just nodded, starting to pack your things up.
they helped you, silence settling between the three of you until your bag was filled with all your textbooks. “do you want me to call a taxi for you?” the one on your right asked as you put on your coat. you stopped for a second, looking at the time on your phone.
“no, don’t worry, i’ll text seongje.” you said softly, putting your scarf on in a messy way. they just nodded, knowing it wasn’t something to argue about.
when you were ready to go, you waved at the both of them while grabbing your bag. “take care, [reader]. text us when you get home.” one of them said as you smiled at her. “i will!” you assured them, making your way to the exit.
it was only you now, making your way down the stairs to the main lobby, feeling completely sick and tired. it wasn’t just a little cold, you knew it. your head was pounding way too hard and your body felt way too sore to just be something so small.
it was still raining outside. maybe less than a few minutes ago, but the weather was still just as cold and discouraging. you sat down on a bench near the door, pulling your phone out of your pocket with a sigh.
it’s only now that you noticed the texts seongje sent you in the last hour:
seongje<3
are u still at the library? 5:08pm
call me if you need anything 5:10pm
i’m dealing with some bullshit rn 5:11pm
miss u baby 5:13pm
you smiled softly at your screen, thumbs hovering over the screen as you thought about if you should bother him or not. he said he had things to deal with, probably related to the union, so it must be important.
but then again, you were feeling completely shitty and you didn’t have any energy left to walk home or take the bus.
you
can you please come and pick me up? 5:58pm
seongje<3
is there something wrong baby? 5:59pm
i’m omw 5:59pm
you
i just don’t feel so good 6:00pm
i wanna go home 6:00pm
seongje<3
alright 6:02pm
wait for me inside i’ll be there soon 6:02pm
you simply locked your phone after receiving the confirmation that he was coming to get you, sighing as your head hit the back of the wall right behind you.
a few people passed by, some coming in to protect themselves from the rain, others going outside while unfolding their umbrellas. you watched them through half lidded eyes, waiting for a familiar face to appear.
the bowling alley wasn’t that close to the library, so you thought you’d had to wait for a bit longer, but only ten minutes after his last texts, seongje entered the building.
he was wearing his infamous black and red windbreaker, his hair a bit messy from the wind outside, his glasses sliding down his nose.
even if you weren’t feeling good at all, you still managed a small smile on your face. as if on cue, he noticed you. his expression, which seemed a bit harsh and cold, softened a little bit as his eyes met yours.
“there you are.” he said with the usual raspy tone he had whenever he smoked too much. he was obviously a bit worried, but he got even more concerned about you when he noticed how red your cheeks were and honestly just your state in general.
he frowned, his hand reaching out to touch your forehead which was in fact burning up, like you didn’t already know that. you slightly leaned back again, eyebrows furrowed. “what is it with people and touching my forehead like that.” you mumbled, scratching the spot he had just touched.
he simply smirked, his hand retreating to his pocket. “you’re sick.” he said in a flat tone, making you raise your eyebrows with sarcasm. “no shit sherlock. i’ve been feeling all sore and bad since this morning.” you said with a slight pout, opening your arms widely. “hug me.”
you were waiting, bouncing slightly on your heels, but seongje didn’t lean forward. instead, he pulled your arms down. “i don’t wanna get sick too.” he said playfully, knowing it would annoy you. and it did. you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “idiot.” you mumbled.
“you can’t even put your scarf on properly.” he huffed playfully, noticing how it was too loose around your neck and he quickly fixed it up with a gentleness that’s always so surprising coming from him. you looked up at him as he tied it back properly, noticing how focused he was. “no wonder you’re sick.” he quietly said, looking back at you.
you looked too cute in his eyes, even if it was clearly noticeable that you were sick. the way you looked up at him with admiration made his heart warm in a way he’ll never get used to. to make this soft moment last less than his pride could take, he pressed a quick kiss on your forehead before grabbing your wrist in his hand, and your backpack in the other.
“come on, let’s go home.” he said as he guided you toward the exit. you followed with little steps, feeling a bit dizzy because of your headache. but his hand gripping your wrist in a gentle touch made sure you were steady as you got outside.
thankfully, and as if life was on your side, it had stopped raining, only some droplets of water hitting the pavement. seongje, who knew how cold it was, leaned down to pull your scarf over your nose, careful to cover you up so you stayed as warm as possible.
he then walked ahead again, with bigger steps than yours, but still while holding your wrist, his thumb brushing against your pulse unconsciously. he seemed nonchalant, keeping a neutral face, but inside, he was already thinking about what medicine and food he’ll need to buy for you.
you were in your own world honestly, just letting yourself being guided as you struggled to swallow without your throat hurting. it was really starting to get dark, and colder than a few hours ago. chills ran down your spine as the wind blew in your face, your nose stuffed in your scarf.
before you even realized, you had already made it to seongje’s motorcycle. he let go of your wrist to grab a helmet, turning back around to set it on your head. “there you go.” he said quietly.
with your state, using his motorcycle wasn’t as exciting as it usually is for you, but it was faster than walking for half an hour. so you just zipped your coat higher and sighed.
you both hopped on it, your arms automatically wrapping around his waist. the motorcycle roared, the engine already making your headache worse, but you took it upon yourself.
“hold on tight baby, okay?” he said over the sound, as you squeezed his waist once to let him know that you were all good.
he then drove off, leaving the library behind to take the main road. he wasn’t going as fast as usual, he was being considerate. the wind made your hair fly all around your head, your cheek pressing against his back as you still tried to enjoy the proximity between the two of you.
seongje liked it too. he smirked to himself behind his helmet, knowing how extremely clingy you got whenever you were sick or sad or overwhelmed. well, on every occasion.
the ride was smooth, not too much traffic, so you made it home in less than ten minutes. of course, you were feeling even worse now, but at least you were home.
well, what you called home was just a small flat you rented with seongje. it wasn’t a lot, but it was comfortable for the both of you. you made sure to make it your safe place, and it was by far your favorite one.
the walk from outside to inside the building was quiet. you’d usually be ranting about something, anything, but you weren’t in the mood right now and seongje was never the talkative type anyway.
the moment you got to the staircase, the elevator having a sign ‘out of service’, you immediately turned to seongje who was a few steps behind you. “carry me. pretty please.” you said with an exaggerated pout, holding your arms out. “i’m sick and tired. think about that.”
he just scoffed, mentally cursing the broken elevator. “baby, it’s literally just a few steps. we live on the second floor.” he said with a raspy tone, but you weren’t having it.
he ended up giving you a piggyback ride so you wouldn’t complain too much, but he definitely was the one cursing at every steps.
when you finally made it to your door, getting inside, the warmth of your place hit you hard. it felt good, as if you could finally relax after such a long and difficult day.
there were still things scattered around: a hoodie on a back of chairs, cups from this morning on the table in the kitchen, books in the living room that you forgot to grab.
even if you’d usually clean everything up to stays clean, you were too tired for that right now. instead, you immediately sat on the couch, sinking into the cushions.
seongje, deciding to play your guardian angel, didn’t even scold you for not removing your coat and scarf. instead, he did it himself. he calmly dragged the zipper down, slowly removing the sleeves of the fabric until you were just in your sweater.
he then undid your scarf, but that’s when you decided to wrap your arms around his neck, forcing him into a hug. he had to bend down awkwardly, with you sitting and him standing, but he didn’t complain once.
he chuckled softly in your ear at your eagerness to have a hug, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “my baby’s clingy.” he muttered in your ear before pressing multiple kisses on your cheek.
you exhaled softly, smiling widely even tho he couldn’t see your face. “thank you for coming to get me.” you said quietly, squeezing him tightly. “mhm, at least you saved me from having a talk with baek jin.” he said playfully before giving you a final kiss on your nose.
he broke the hug slowly, standing back up. he quickly pushed his glasses back up his nose, then took a good look at you. he smirked down at you, your cute little face making him all giddy inside even tho he’d never say it out loud.
he leaned down again, this time to push a strand of your hair back behind your ear. seongje being this gentle and calm was surprising, but the more time he spent with you, the more he softened.
“why don’t you go take a shower, warm yourself up, while i go buy some things?” he suggested, putting his hands back in his windbreaker that he hadn’t removed.
you only nodded softly, rubbing your face with your hand as you started to feel sleepy again. “i’ll be back in ten minutes then.” he said before turning to the door.
“be safe.” you said quietly, while stretching on the couch. he didn’t answer, instead quickly getting out so he could come back to you quicker.
the convenience store was just a street away from your place, so it wouldn’t take long anyway. seongje knew exactly what to buy, he didn’t need to ask you what you wanted or needed.
he knew that you liked eating your favorite things when you were feeling sick. it comforted you in a way. so he bought one strawberry and one chocolate milk, a pack of cookies and your favorite kind of ramen.
he also stopped at the pharmacy to get some medicine for your fever. when getting out again to come back, he was deep in thoughts, thinking about what he could make you for breakfast tomorrow morning if you were feeling bad again.
but his train of thoughts were interrupted by a notification on his phone. then another. and another. he groaned, knowing exactly who it was. he grabbed his phone anyway, unlocking it with disdain.
dongha
why the fuck did you disappear 6:49pm
baekjin wants to talk to you. it’s urgent 6:50pm
answer your phone 6:50pm
he didn’t even want to answer. the union was pissing him off enough lately, he had other things to deal with. you were far more important than this shit.
so he ghosted dongha, turning his phone off so no one would bother him again. by the time it was done, he was already back home.
when he opened the door, plastic bag in hand full of things for you, he found you sitting down on the couch, this time in your pyjamas, all washed up and comfortable. you were watching something on the tv, pulling a blanket over your legs.
he made his way over to you after removing his shoes and windbreaker, tossing the bag onto your knees as he sank down on the couch next to you. “this is all for you.” he said like it didn’t make you so happy all of a sudden.
“are you competing for the title of the best boyfriend ever?” you said teasingly, snuggling up with him. he ‘tsk’, but wrapped an arm around your shoulders anyway. “just eat your cookies.” he didn’t look at you, but he surely was smirking.
you dug into the bag, grabbing the strawberry milk. your favorite one. you forgot that you were sick for a moment, sipping on the drink, watching the screen in front of you, with seongje drawing circles on your arm.
you stayed like that for a while. silent, just watching tv, enjoying each other’s company and mostly relaxing. you had finished the milk, tossed the empty box on the small coffee table. your head wasn’t hurting that much anymore.
“you hungry?” seongje asked you, knowing it was getting a bit late and you hadn’t eaten anything yet. “not really, no. at least not right now.” you said quietly, before a yawn escaped from your lips.
yeah, you were definitely tired. you slowly moved to lay down with your head on his lap, making yourself as comfortable as possible.
he knew that you were about to fall asleep, he had noticed your sleepy eyes a few minutes ago. so he didn’t bother you. he simply played with your hair, twirling them around his fingers as you exhaled.
“i’ll wake you up when it’s time to eat.” he said calmly, but didn’t need an answer from you because he knew you were probably already asleep.
he looked back at the tv, on the show you were watching, and he smiled. a real, genuine smile. something that really made an appearance on his face.
he was happy. deep down, he loved moments like these. when you needed him, and he could do anything to help you. when you were clingy. when you were just you.
he didn’t regret ghosting baek jin. he didn’t care, actually.
seongje was right where he wanted to be.
author’s note — yeah so basically i hate this. i had no motivation to write the end so bear with it😭
hii i lovee lovee ur seongje works, can i request a seongje fic where he has a soft spot for reader? like he’ll let her touch his hair or do nails or skincare on him😭 and how union members tease him for this? this might be ooc but you can always ignore if u cant do it ! thank u!
Soju Stains and Glitter Nails
Pairing: Geum SeongJe x fem reader
Genre: fluff
Warnings: alcohol,intoxication and ooc
A/N: i hope you like it. sorry if it is short and bad tho. any support is appreciated pretties! first time writing fluff,kinda nervous
There are six soju bottles scattered beside you and Geum Seongje, four already empty on the table, and yet neither of you shows any intention of giving up, both stubborn in your own ways as if this is some life-or-death competition instead of a stupid drinking game that only started because you wanted to paint his nails with cute, cartoony designs after scrolling through Pinterest at an ungodly hour.
If anyone else had even suggested drawing tiny characters on his nails, he would have punched them without hesitation, maybe even twice just to make a point, but it is you, his girlfriend, the only person who gets to ask things like this and still walk away unharmed, the only person he cannot say no to even when he really wants to, and he hates that sometimes, hates how easily you bend him, hates even more the thought of you doing this with someone else, laughing the same way, leaning just as close.
So he agreed.
Reluctantly.
But not without a condition.
You have to beat him in a soju game.
And now there is a camera set up across the room, recording everything like some kind of evidence, capturing who will pass out first, and you are far too determined to let it be you.
“Seongje yaaaa… just let your pretty girlfriend win…” you mumble, your voice dragging slightly as the alcohol settles in, your head tilting as you look at him with that shameless expression you know he folds for.
“Not happening…” he replies, just as tipsy, his words slower than usual, a faint, lazy smile pulling at his lips as he pours another shot for both of you like this is still completely under his control.
“Hmmm…” you squint at him for a moment before raising your hands above your head, forming little ears.
“Seongje… you look like a cat…”
He lets out a quiet chuckle, the sound softer than what anyone else would ever hear from him, and simply hums in response as he slides your glass toward you, already pouring another round without even asking.
Maybe it is the alcohol, maybe it is the dim lighting of his room casting shadows that make everything feel softer, or maybe he just looks unfairly handsome when he is drunk, because the way his eyes sit behind those glasses, slightly unfocused yet still sharp, is enough to make your stomach twist in ways you refuse to think too deeply about.
“There was a cat… in my house… when I was seven,” he starts, his words uneven, slower than usual, like each one has to be dragged out.
“I don’t remember what it was… but its name was Alexander.”
A pause.
“It was fucking ginger.”
He laughs at that, taking another shot, and you follow right after, watching him more than you should, because for a moment it hits you; how strange it is to imagine him like that, just a kid with a stupidly named cat, before everything, before the fights, before the Union, before he became someone everyone else is scared of.
Because to them, he is ruthless, emotionless, something closer to a weapon than a person.
But to you—
He is just a boy.
A boy who plays games, who struggles to say what he feels, who pretends he does not care when he clearly does, and yes, maybe a boy who solves too many problems with his fists, but still just a boy nonetheless.
You have told him to leave the Union before, more than once, and every single time he gives you the same answer, like it is rehearsed.
“When the time comes.”
“I thought giving it an English name would be… cool,” he mutters, sounding amused at his younger self, shaking his head slightly.
“I hope it got reborn,” you say, your words starting to blur together as the alcohol catches up with you,
“as a ginger… still named Alexander.”
He raises an eyebrow, looking at you like he always does when you say something questionable.
“You’re weird.”
“Correction,” you grin lazily, “I’m romantic.”
He looks at you then really looks. And for a second, his eyes soften in a way that almost feels dangerous.
“Fuck… you’re pretty, love,” he mutters, finishing his drink like it is nothing.
You smile, slow and dazed.
“Hmm… are you even real? Seongje, you’re perfect.”
He lets out a quiet breath, shaking his head, because perfect is the last thing he would ever call himself. Not as a person, not as a student, not even as someone who is supposed to be good for you and yet you sit there looking at him like he is something worth keeping.
“No,” he says, a faint smirk forming,
“I’m fictional.”
“Aww… I’d still love you even if you were fictional, bro,” you reply without thinking.
“…Now that’s romantic.”
And just like that, he drops his head onto the table.
Game over.
You laugh softly, pushing yourself up despite the dizziness, your steps uneven as you walk over to him before lowering yourself beside him, resting your head near his arm, your eyes slowly closing as the room fades into quiet.
____________________________
“Are you done yet?”
He has asked the same question at least five times in the past minute, his patience clearly wearing thin as he watches you carefully paint a tiny star on his thumb like it is the most important task in the world.
“Almost,” you murmur, not even looking up, too focused on getting the shape right.
“Hurry the fuck up, ___.”
“Two more minutes,” you reply, finally glancing up just long enough to give him that pout you know works every time.
And it does.
Of course it does.
He clicks his tongue, clearly annoyed, but he does not pull his hand away, does not complain again, just sits there watching you, his gaze lingering longer than it should.
Because the way you look right now, focused, slightly frowning, eyes shining over something so small.It does something to him he refuses to name.
There are a lot of privileges in this world.
But being loved by Geum Seongje?
That is something else entirely.
One moment, he is out there, smirking, cursing, throwing punches like nothing matters.
And the next—
He is here, sitting still, letting you do this, letting you hold his hand like it belongs to you.
“All done,” you say finally, lifting his hand with a proud smile.
“Look.”
He glances at it briefly, unimpressed as always.
“What’s the point?” he mutters.
“Not like it’ll make me punch faster.”
“The point is that your girlfriend is happy, Seongje,” you say, quieter this time, like it should be obvious.
A small smirk forms on his lips.
“…That’s enough, then.”
—--------------------------------------
The bowling alley is loud in a way that almost feels overwhelming, filled with flashing neon lights that reflect off every surface, the constant crash of bowling pins echoing in the background, mixed with laughter, shouting, and the low, familiar noise of Union members scattered around like they own the place.
In the far corner, away from most of the chaos but still very much part of it, Geum Seongje sits slouched in his chair, completely absorbed in his Nintendo Switch as if nothing else around him matters, while you sit beside him, legs crossed, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok, occasionally letting out small laughs at things you will probably forget in the next five minutes.
You barely notice the two figures approaching until they are already standing in front of you.
Baek Dong-ha and Do Seong-mok, both carrying the food you had casually asked them to pick up earlier, even though you very well could have asked anyone else.
“___, you could’ve just told the kids to buy this,” Seong-mok mutters, clearly not impressed as he hands you the bag.
“Why wait for us?”
You look up at them with a grin that already gives away your answer.
“Well, would they know how I like my food the way my precious friends do?” you say sweetly, dragging out the word precious just enough to make it annoying.
Dong-ha lets out a dry scoff, rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms.
“You only pull the ‘friend’ card when you want us to do something—”
He stops.
Mid-sentence.
Because his eyes finally land on Seongje’s hand.
“…Is that nail polish?” he blurts out, the words slipping before he can stop them, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and barely contained laughter.
You don’t even hesitate.
“Yes,” you reply proudly, sitting up a little straighter.
“And I did it.”
For a second, both of them go completely still, their expressions frozen as if they are trying very hard not to react, but the slight twitch at the corner of Dong-ha’s lips and the way Seong-mok looks away immediately says everything.
They are losing it.
Internally.
Barely holding on.
Before either of them can say anything else—
The sound of a game ending clicks from the Switch.
Seongje looks up.
Just one glance.
That’s all it takes.
Their expressions snap back to normal so fast it is almost impressive, like nothing happened, like they were not two seconds away from laughing at something that could very well get them killed.
“The fuck are you laughing at?” he says, voice flat, eyes sharp enough to cut through both of them without effort.
“Nothing, boss,” Dong-ha answers immediately, too quickly, shaking his head.
“We just think ___ did a good job—”
“Cut the shit.”
The words come out cold, effortless, like he has already lost interest.
And just like that, he looks back down at his game, completely dismissing them as if they were never important enough to begin with.
Conversation over.
Dong-ha and Seong-mok exchange a quick look before stepping away without another word, clearly deciding that whatever joke they had in mind is not worth risking their lives over.
You, on the other hand, are completely unbothered, already digging into the food they brought, happily eating as if nothing just happened.
“When they tell the others,” Seongje mutters after a moment, his eyes still glued to the screen, fingers moving lazily over the controls,
“They're gonna think I’ve gone soft.”
You let out a small laugh, shaking your head as you take another bite.
“Come on, Seongje,” you say, nudging his arm slightly,
“no one’s going to believe that.”
He hums faintly, unconvinced.
You grin, mischief creeping into your expression.
“That’s like saying Yeon Si-eun is secretly a cat boy…”
the way you write is so fun!! :p can you make a fic where the reader is trying to win a plushie from a claw machine or something and she keeps losing, so seongje being “such a good boyfriend” decides to help her only for him to suck at it and now they’re both struggling LOL
CLAW MACHINE;gsj
Geum Seongje x reader
Warnings: Swearing, seongje being humbled by a claw machine.
The arcade on the corner of the busy street near Kanghak High was loud, flashing, and smelled like popcorn, cheap perfume, and teenage sweat. Neon lights blinked aggressively overhead, and the constant beep-boop of games mixed with shouts of victory and groans of defeat. It was a Friday evening, the kind where students blew their allowance on nothing useful.
You stood in front of the claw machine like it had personally insulted your ancestors. Inside the glass case sat the cutest plushie ever, a chubby black cat with big sparkling eyes, tiny white paws, and a little red bow tie. It was perfect. You wanted it. No, you needed it.
For the seventh time, you fed another coin into the slot. The claw hummed to life. You bit your lip in concentration, tongue poking out slightly as you maneuvered the joystick with precision.
“Almost… almost… got it—”
The claw descended, gripped the cat’s head for half a second… and slipped right off. The plushie wobbled mockingly but stayed exactly where it was. The machine made that sad little “try again” jingle.
You let out a long, defeated groan and slumped against the glass. “Why is this thing so rigged? It’s like it hates me specifically.”
From behind you came a low, cocky laugh. Seong-je leaned against the side of the machine, arms crossed over his chest, that signature smirk plastered on his face. His school uniform jacket was slung over one shoulder, hair slightly messy in that effortlessly cool way. Even in the harsh arcade lighting, he looked like he owned the place.
“Having trouble there, babe?” he drawled, voice dripping with amusement. “Looks like the machine’s winning. Again.”
You shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted. Dating Seong-je meant dealing with his massive ego on a daily basis. He was Baek-jin’s right-hand man for a reason, brutal in fights, playful when he felt like it, and convinced he was the best at literally everything. Including, apparently, things he had never tried.
“It’s not my fault,” you muttered, poking the glass. “The claw is weak. Or the plushie is too heavy. Or the universe is against me.”
Seong-je pushed off the machine and stepped closer, towering over you with that arrogant tilt to his head. “Or maybe you just suck at it.” He grinned wider when you swatted his arm. “Relax. Watch a pro handle this.”
You raised an eyebrow. “A pro? Since when are you a claw machine expert?”
“Since right now,” he said confidently, cracking his knuckles like he was about to step into a back-alley fight instead of an arcade game. “I’m good at everything, babe… picking up stuffed toys for my girlfriend? Piece of cake. Step aside and learn.”
He fed a coin into the machine with dramatic flair, rolling his shoulders like he was warming up for a title match. You crossed your arms and watched, trying not to laugh already.
Seong-je gripped the joystick with surprising focus, eyes narrowing. “See? You gotta be precise. Calculate the angle. Account for the drop. It’s all about control.”
The claw moved. He positioned it perfectly over the cat’s head.
“Watch this,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “One smooth motion and—”
Down it went. The claw closed… around empty air. It brushed the cat’s ear and lifted nothing. The plushie didn’t even budge.
The machine played its mocking jingle again.
Seong-je stared at the glass for a long second. “What the—? That should’ve worked.”
You couldn’t hold back the snort. “Piece of cake, huh?”
He shot you a look, half-annoyed, half-challenged. “Beginner’s luck for the machine. Try number two.”
Another coin. Another attempt. This time he aimed for the side, trying to nudge it toward the prize chute. The claw grabbed the cat’s paw… and the entire thing slipped free at the last second, dropping the plushie right back into its smug position.
“Fuck,” Seong-je hissed under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.
You leaned against the machine, grinning now. “The great Geum Seong-je, terror of Kanghak High, defeated by a claw machine. I’m telling the whole Union.”
“Don’t even start,” he warned, but there was no real heat in it. His ego was clearly bruised, and that only made him more determined. “This thing is rigged. The claw’s loose on purpose. They want your money.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
He fed in a third coin, muttering strategy under his breath like he was planning a gang takedown. “Come on, you piece of junk…”
The claw descended. Gripped. Lifted.
For one glorious second, the cat rose halfway to the chute.
Then the claw opened prematurely. The plushie tumbled back down, landing face-first in a pile of other rejects.
Seong-je slammed his palm against the glass. “Are you kidding me?!”
You burst out laughing, covering your mouth. “Oh my god, your face. You look like you just lost a real fight.”
“I don’t lose fights,” he snapped, pointing at the machine like it was a personal enemy. “And I’m not losing to this fucking machine either.”
What followed was a slow, hilarious descent into chaos.
Seong-je, the guy who could intimidate entire groups with a single smile, became completely obsessed. He started pacing in front of the claw machine, analyzing it like it was a rival gang’s territory.
“These things have weak spots,” he declared. “You gotta exploit them. Watch.”
Coin four. He tried slamming the joystick at the exact right moment for “extra grip power” (his words). The claw barely moved.
Coin five. He shook the machine lightly, not enough to trigger the tilt alarm, but enough to make you hiss, “Seong-je...”
"Shut, I'm not leaving this piece of junk until I win".
The cat remained untouched.
By coin seven, his confidence had shifted from cocky to stubborn. Sweat was beading on his forehead under the neon lights. His usual playful smirk had turned into a focused scowl that would’ve sent underclassmen running.
You were doubled over laughing at this point, clutching your sides. “Babe, it’s been twenty minutes. We can just buy a plushie somewhere else. Or, you know… admit defeat.”
“Defeat?” He whirled on you, eyes wide with mock outrage. “Geum Seong-je doesn’t admit defeat. Especially not over a goddamn cat plushie. I’m doing this for you. As a good boyfriend.”
You raised an eyebrow, still giggling. “A good boyfriend would’ve won it on the first try instead of trash-talking the machine for half an hour.”
He pointed an accusing finger at you. “You’re the one who wanted it. Now I have to win it. My pride is on the line here.”
“Your pride versus a claw machine. This is the hill you’re dying on?”
“Exactly.”
Coin eight. He tried a new tactic, tilting his body with the joystick like it would transfer “power” to the claw. The arm swung wildly and knocked over a different plushie instead. Not the cat.
“Close!” he claimed, even though it wasn’t.
You wiped tears from your eyes. “You’re terrible at this.”
“I’m strategically wearing it down,” he insisted, feeding another coin. “The machine will crack eventually.”
The arcade staff had started glancing over. One employee looked like he was debating whether to intervene as Seong-je muttered curses at the claw under his breath.
“Stupid weak grip… come on, grab it properly… I’ve crushed skulls harder than this thing…”
You leaned in closer, resting your chin on his shoulder as he concentrated on attempt number ten. “You know, it’s kind of cute watching you fail so spectacularly.”
He paused, turning his head just enough to glare at you. “Cute? I’m not cute. I’m intimidating.”
“Right now you look like a kid who lost his favorite toy.”
Another failed grab. The claw slipped again. Seong-je let out a dramatic groan and banged his forehead lightly against the glass.
“This is bullshit. In a real fight I’d have this thing on the ground in three seconds.”
“You can’t punch a claw machine, Seong-je.”
“Watch me.”
“You’ll get banned from the arcade.”
“Worth it.”
By now you were both laughing, him through gritted teeth, you openly. The absurdity of the situation hit hard: one of the most feared guys at school, known for his brutal streak and playful sadism in fights, was currently losing a battle of wills against a children’s toy dispenser.
He tried one more time. Coin eleven. Perfect positioning. The claw descended with what felt like divine intervention.
It grabbed the cat.
It lifted.
It moved toward the chute…
…and dropped it at the very edge. The plushie teetered for a heart-stopping moment… then fell back inside with a soft plop.
Seong-je stared in dead silence for five full seconds.
Then he exploded.
“Are you fucking serious right now?!” He threw his hands up, voice carrying over the arcade noise. A couple of middle schoolers nearby turned to stare. “That was perfect! The machine cheated! There’s no way—”
You were laughing so hard you had to hold onto his arm for support. “Oh my god, your ego is in pieces. I can see it shattering on the floor.”
He looked at you, cheeks slightly flushed from frustration and embarrassment, and for a second his usual cocky mask slipped into something almost pouty. “This isn’t funny.”
“It’s hilarious.”
Seong-je ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. Then, unexpectedly, he started laughing too, low at first, then louder, that playful, slightly unhinged laugh he got when something genuinely amused him. “Fine. Okay. Maybe the machine’s stronger than it looks.”
“Maybe you’re not as good at everything as you think,” you teased, poking his chest.
He caught your hand, pulling you closer with that signature smirk returning, though it was softer now, edged with defeat. “Don’t push it. I’m still the best at the things that matter.” His voice dropped, playful but with that underlying intensity he always had around you. “Like keeping you around. Or beating up anyone who looks at you wrong.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile was warm. “My hero. Defeated by polyester and cheap mechanics.”
He glanced back at the cat plushie, still sitting there innocently. “One more try. Last one. If I lose, we leave and never speak of this again.”
“You’ve said that three times already.”
“This time I mean it.”
You both knew he didn’t.
Coin twelve. Seong-je took a deep breath, cracked his neck, and approached the joystick like it was a final boss. You stood behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, chin on his back, giggling quietly.
“Root for me or something,” he muttered.
“Go, big strong boyfriend. Show the evil claw who’s boss.”
“Shut up.”
The claw moved. Positioned. Descended.
Gripped the cat’s head and body this time.
Lifted.
Moved slowly, steadily toward the chute.
You held your breath.
Seong-je tensed, muttering, “Don’t you dare drop it…”
The claw reached the drop zone.
It released.
The plushie fell… straight into the prize chute with a satisfying thunk.
The machine lit up and played a cheerful victory tune.
Seong-je froze. Then he punched the air once, sharply. “Yes! I knew it!”
You squealed and immediately bent down to retrieve the cat plushie from the slot. It was even softer and cuter up close. You hugged it to your chest, beaming up at him.
Seong-je turned to you, chest puffed out, ego fully restored in record time. “See? Told you I’d get it. Just needed the right strategy. Persistence. Skill.”
You raised an eyebrow, holding up the plushie. “After twelve tries and a full mental breakdown?”
“Details,” he waved off, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his side. “The point is, I won. For you. Because I’m such a good boyfriend.”
You laughed, leaning into him as you both walked away from the cursed machine. The cat plushie dangled from your hand, ears flopping with every step.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, tough guy.”
He smirked down at you, that arrogant, playful glint back in his eyes. “You’re welcome, by the way. Next time you want something, just say the word. I’ll handle it. No problem.”
“Even if it’s another claw machine?”
“Especially if it’s another claw machine.”
You shook your head, but you were smiling too wide to hide it. Dating Seong-je was never boring. His ego was massive, his temper quick, and his pride ridiculous… but moments like this, when he turned something small and silly into a personal mission just because it made you happy, reminded you why you put up with all of it.
As you left the arcade, the neon lights reflecting in the evening streets, Seong-je stole the plushie from your hands for a second, holding it up like a trophy.
“See this? Proof that even rigged machines bow to me eventually.”
You snatched it back, laughing. “Sure, big guy. Sure.”
He grinned, unrepentant, and pressed a quick, rough kiss to the top of your head. “Damn right.”
The two of you walked home like that, you clutching your hard-won cat plushie, him with his arm around you, bragging the whole way about his “masterful” technique while you teased him relentlessly about the twelve failures.
Neither of you mentioned how much money had disappeared into that machine.
Notes: Im so happy yall liked the last chapter. Thank you!!
Reminder: Dont forget to go back to chapter one and read the last part bc my stupid ass forgot to copy it from my notes T—T
CHAPTER 2:
—The next day—
You wake up to the sharp sound of your alarm.
7:30 am.
Oh god.
The only good thing in your life right now is that your apartment is close to your school. At least you can afford to wake up last minute.
You’re still half asleep, blindly patting around the nightstand, trying to shut the alarm off. You miss it twice before your hand finally finds your phone, and the noise cuts off, leaving a heavy silence behind.
You sit up slowly, steadying yourself on the bed with a frowb. The throbbing pain hits immediately, your back still aching from being slammed against the wall yesterday.
You freeze for a second, then glance down at your arms.
Bruises.
Faint, but visible. Blue spreading unevenly under your skin.
Great. Now I have to cover these up.
You get up, moving a little too stiffly, and start digging through your things, searching for concealer. You dab some over the marks, trying to blend it in, but the color still shows through.
You stare at it for a second, annoyed.
Never mind.
You check the time again. You’re already late.
You grab a long-sleeve shirt instead, black, the first one you find thrown over a chair, and pull it on. Jeans, quickly. No effort beyond that.
You don’t even bother with your hair.
As you pass by the mirror, something catches your eye.
You stop.
There’s a small cut on your cheek.
You frown, leaning in slightly.
Oh my god… where did that even come from?
For a second, you just stare at your reflection, tired, bruised, not fully there.
Then you look away.
You don’t have time for this.
You push your hair forward to cover it as much as you can, grab your things, and head out.
The classroom is louder than usual. Conversations overlap, chairs scrape against the floor, someone laughs too loudly in the back.
You slide into your seat without looking at anyone, keeping your head low as you pull your sleeves down just a little more over your wrists.
You try to ignore it, but you feel someone looking at you. You turn your head.
“You look worse than yesterday.”
It’s Seongje, his tone mocking as always, though there’s a hint of something softer underneath it. Worry, maybe. But you’re probably imagining it. Why would he care?
“Well, thank you for the comment I didn’t ask for,” you say, rolling your eyes and looking away.
“So how did it go?”
“I don’t think you’d be interested in that.”
“Come on, you’re still mad from yesterday.”
Mad?
You let out a quiet, humorless breath.
I nearly got beaten up by his guys, and he calls it mad.
“I’m not,” you say flatly. “It’s just none of your business.”
Your tone comes out sharper than you intended.
“Suit yourself,” he says, turning his attention back to his phone.
You don’t know why, but something tightens in your chest.
Of course he’d say that. What were you expecting?
He wasn’t asking because he cared. It was just something to entertain himself with. Something to laugh at.
And still…
Deep down, you wanted to tell him what really happened.
The bell rings. Class is over.
You quickly shove your books into your bag, sling it over your shoulder, and leave the classroom.
You keep walking with your head down, still trying to cover the cut on your face.
The hallway is less chaotic than the classroom, but still full of movement. Doors opening and closing, footsteps echoing off the walls, voices fading in and out.
You walk slightly faster than everyone else.
Head down.
You just need to get through this day. That’s all.
“I seriously need to know what happened yesterday for you to act like this. Wow, I’ve never seen you rushing like this, like, ever.”
You don’t need to turn to know it’s Seongje.
Great.
Can’t this guy leave me alone for a second?
Of all days, he chose today to keep annoying you.
“And I seriously need you to leave me alone,” you say, still walking.
He doesn’t stop you. Just keeps pace beside you, hands in his pockets like always, calm and annoyingly composed.
“Come on, Mirae,” he says with a teasing tone. “I know you like me being around.”
You pause for a second before answering.
“Oh God, never. I think you’re just really self-centered.”
A half-lie.
You actually don’t mind him being around, you just refuse to admit it to yourself.
You hear him laugh, and it does something you immediately try to ignore.
“Whatever,” he says. “Now tell me how did-”
You both pass by a window.
A gust of air slips through, and the strand of hair covering your face shifts just slightly.
The cut on your cheek is exposed for a second too long.
You react instantly, pulling your hair back down, too quick, too obvious.
“What were you going to say?” you ask, trying to shift the moment.
He stops mid-step.
“What’s that?”
His tone is lighter now, still sharp, but not pushing.
You barely react.
“What?”
He doesn’t repeat himself right away. Instead, his eyes move past your face.
To your cheek, where the cut is.
He pauses, then his gaze shifts slightly lower.
Your sleeve.
You instinctively adjust it before he can say anything else.
“It’s nothing,” you say quickly. "im just clumsy.”
“Right,” he says.
His expression doesn’t fully change, but something in it does, something uncertain. Almost like suspicion he doesn’t act on.
He doesn’t push further.
“I paid for them,” you say suddenly.
“What?”
You glance at him briefly, already regretting bringing it up.
“You were going to ask how I got away with Baekjin. I covered it. With my own money.”
A pause.
“Now I’m basically broke, I guess.”
He looks at you like he’s trying to decide if you’re joking.
Then he laughs.
“You’re absolutely insane.”
Yeah. Being around you would make anyone go insane.
“Well, good for you, Mirae.”
You force a small, flat smile.
“Yeah… anyway, I have to go. I’ll see you around.”
And before he can add anything else, you’re already walking away.
Because if he does, you might just break down in front of him.
And that is not an option.
It’s the end of the day. The sun is almost setting, and you’ve finally finished your classes.
Finally.
After that conversation with Seongje, you didn’t see him at all for the rest of the day.
Not that it’s unusual. He skips sometimes. But when he does, he’s usually still around the school… somewhere behind it, or in the hallways.
Not like you care. Or maybe you do.
You’re walking down the stairs when you hear low voices ahead, whispering, excited.
You tell yourself it’s probably just girls gossiping.
Until you catch a name.
“I can’t believe Seongje did that.”
“What do you mean you can’t believe it? That guy beats people up for a living.”
“No, but why would he do that to his own guys? They work with him. I need to know what happened, oh my god.”
“Word will get out. Don’t worry.”
They stop talking the moment you start walking closer.
You pass by them.
You can feel their eyes on you, but you don’t react. You just keep going.
Out the door.
The air outside is cooler. It hits your face and you close your eyes for a second, letting it settle.
You try not to think about what you just heard.
But your mind keeps circling it anyway.
Seongje.
Did he find out? Is that what it was?
No. That’s impossible.
He wouldn’t get involved in something like that.
At least, that’s what you tell yourself.
Your thoughts don’t settle, no matter how hard you try to push them down, so you open your eyes and start walking home.
On the way, you remember there’s nothing to eat.
Right.
So you change direction and head toward the convenience store.
That’s the only place you can get food from, considering you’re kind of broke now.
You’re almost there when you try to cross the road.
Summary: Was it ever really casual?Or were you just the only one brave enough to feel it?
Warnings: a mutual pining,Kang WooYoung mentioned, ooc
A/N: This is my first Go HyunTak fic and I hope you guys like it! Let me know if you want a sequel for this.
Everything Go HyunTak does with you seems casual but something deep inside you screams that it isn’t.
Was it casual when he came to see you after his basketball matches, just because you were his best friend?
Was it casual when he said you felt like home because you knew the real him, while no one else did?
Was it casual when he murmured your name in his sleep on his hospital bed?
Was it casual when he gave you his basketball jersey just because you looked nice in it?
Was it casual when he went quiet the moment you talked about wanting a boyfriend?
Was it casual when he hesitated to say the word “friend”, or when his tone dropped slightly as he said,
“You’ll always be my home… and you’ll always be my best friend.”
You never asked what the two of you were.
Because HyunTak always answered the same way whenever Park Humin asked.
“Best friend.”
After three years of being delusional about HyunTak liking you, you finally accept it.
He sees you as nothing more than a best friend.
Now you have two choices.
Ruin everything between you by confessing.
Or
Pretend you don’t have feelings for him.
Go on as many dates as you can.
Eventually move on and keep him in your life.
And because you’re a coward… You choose option two.
Definitely.
“___, where is your textbook?”
Your math teacher’s voice cuts through your thoughts. You look up to see him staring at you, one eyebrow raised.
“I forgot it, sir,” you mumble, lowering your gaze.
You curse yourself for staying up late last night, finishing a fanfic you found at 2 a.m which resulted in you waking up late and rushing to school without even checking your bag.
“The rules are rules, ___.”
He sighs. “Go stand in the corridor.”
You nod and quietly walk out of the classroom, mentally cursing yourself even more.
Three minutes into standing outside, you hear the classroom door open again.
You glance over absentmindedly
Then freeze.
A familiar figure steps out. Blue quarter-zip. School uniform layered over it.
Go HyunTak.
He walks toward you with his usual smile.
That damn smile.
You smile back before you can stop yourself.
“Did you forget your textbook too?”
He shakes his head, still grinning.
“No, of course not,” he says casually.
“I just didn’t want my favorite girl to be bored, so I lied.”
You wince internally.
Favorite girl.
Yeah… just not his girl.
“So,” HyunTak continues, leaning slightly against the wall beside you, “where’s my prize for standing here with you?”
He sounds way too excited.
You laugh softly.
“You cheesy bastard… hmm, let me think.”
“How about you come bake cookies with me tomorrow? You can take as many as you want.”
“That’s new…” he mutters, tilting his head slightly.
“___, you’ve never baked before. What’s the occasion?”
“Well…” your voice softens.
“Remember the guy I told you about? We’re going on a date on Wednesday. Mi Rae said it’s good to bring something on a first date.”
Silence.
Just for a second.
Two, maybe three seconds later,
He smiles again.
But this time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“The guy from Seoul?” he asks.
You nod.
“Of course I’ll come. Sounds like a good deal.”
He avoids eye contact.
Before you can say anything else,
An arm suddenly wraps around both your shoulders, pulling you in.
“Having fun without me, huh?”
Of course.
Park Humin.
“Ah— let me go, Baku! I can’t breathe!” you complain, squirming.
HyunTak immediately starts hitting Humin’s arm.
“What are you, five years old? Grow up, Baku,” he mutters.
“Yesss, dAd and mOm, I’ll be mAtUrE,” Humin replies dramatically.
Your cheeks heat up slightly. HyunTak just laughs.
———————————————-
You stand in the kitchen, preparing the ingredients when he walks in.
Go HyunTak.
Gray hoodie. Slightly messy hair. Hands in his pockets like he owns the place.
Looking handsome as ever.
At this point, you genuinely don’t understand how he has never had a girlfriend. Sometimes you even wonder if he’s into guys instead.
His gaze softens the moment he catches you staring.
The kitchen feels warm, almost too warm. Soft light filters through the window, and the quiet hum of the afternoon settles around you.
It’s… peaceful.
Dangerously peaceful.
“Your hair looks good,” he comments, nodding toward the messy tie you threw together just so it wouldn’t get in your way while baking.
You blink.
You can’t tell if he’s serious or just messing with you.
“Stop being weird,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.
He chuckles under his breath and walks closer.
Neither of you knows where to start.
So, naturally, you both end up on YouTube.
“Let’s follow this one,” you say, showing him your phone.
“It looks trustworthy.”
“Why?” he asks, leaning slightly closer to look at the screen.
You grin.
“Because he’s handsome.”
“What?” HyunTak scoffs, clearly annoyed.
“___, I didn’t know you cared about looks that much.”
You shrug.
“Why not?”
He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair.
“Look, I can’t believe I have to explain this to you,” he says, sounding more serious now.
“You can’t just go for looks when you’re dating someone,too. You have to see if they treat you well, or if they actually have something going for them like skills you know .. basketball ,taekwondo or—”
“So… someone like you?”
You cut him off.
That shuts him up.
Completely.
For a second, the loud, confident HyunTak looks… caught off guard.
Almost like he didn’t expect that.
“Not necessarily like me,” he mutters, quieter this time.
“But… you know. Someone who’s more than just a face.”
He looks back at his phone.
You sigh internally.
For a split second, you thought he might say something.
Admit something.
But there’s nothing to admit, right?
You punch the flour lightly.
Imagining it’s him.
“What about this one?” he suddenly says, holding his phone up.
“This looks like something you’d like.”
Your mood lifts instantly.
Cute fonts. Soft colors. Adorable editing.
Yeah.
You love this kind of thing.
“Okay, we’re doing this one.”
You both follow the steps together.
And just when you think things are going well, He smears flour across your cheek.
You freeze.
“…Go HyunTak..,
Do you have a death wish…?”
He bursts into laughter.
Loud. Unapologetic. Completely entertained.
“I should take a picture,” he says between laughs.
“___, you look so—”
He’s laughing too hard to finish his sentence .
You chase him immediately.
Of course you do.
It ends exactly how you expected.
Flour everywhere.
On your face. On his hoodie. On the floor.
Probably in places it shouldn’t even be.
After a few solid hits to his back, you both calm down.
Barely.
“Let’s just finish it before everything gets ruined,” you sigh.
The rest goes… surprisingly well.
Between random arguments, bursts of laughter, and HyunTak somehow bringing up taekwondo and basketball in the middle of baking.
You actually manage to finish.
The cookies go into the oven.
His phone, still playing YouTube, switches to the next video automatically.
A familiar melody fills the room.
“Can’t Help Falling in Love” — Elvis Presley.
You glance at him.
“You listen to this kind of music?”
You sound genuinely surprised because you always see him listen to songs that hype him.
“Yeah,” he shrugs.
“It’s a classic.”
He pauses for a second.
Then,
He holds his hand out to you.
“May I dance with you, lady?” he says, putting on a terrible fake accent.
You laugh.
Of course you do.He’s ridiculous not to.But you take his hand anyway.
You move slowly, awkwardly at first ,then more naturally as the song carries you.
His hand rests lightly against yours.
Closer than usual.
Too close.
His eyes don’t leave yours.
Not even for a second.And your thoughts spiral.
Wise men say… Only fools rush in…
You’ve known each other for years.
Long enough to know this isn’t just friendship.
Shall I stay… Would it be a sin…
Is it even right to keep loving him while going on dates with someone else?
Should you just let go?Or hold on a little longer?
Like a river flows…
If you’re meant to be, you’ll find your way back to each other. Right?
Take my hand…
Do something, HyunTak.
Say something.Just once.
The music fades.
And you realize..You’re still in his arms.
You haven’t pulled away. Neither has he.
You gather your courage.
“Do you… have something to tell me?”
You step back just enough to look into his eyes.
His gaze wavers.
Hesitates.
Like he’s standing on the edge of something.
“I—”
“If you tell me not to go on that date…”
You swallow.
“I won’t.”
Surprise flickers across his face.
Real, this time.
For a second
You think he might say it.
Then
His phone rings.
The moment breaks.
“It’s Baku,” he mutters quickly.
“I have to go. I— uh… I’m sorry.”
He pats your head like always.Then pulls you into a quick hug.And he leaves.
Just like that.
You stand there.
Frozen for a few seconds.Maybe a little bit longer.
Your eyes sting.
“That damn bastard…” you mumble weakly.
“Couldn’t even help me clean up…”
Your voice cracks.
“First love is supposed to end like this… right?”
___________________________
Go HyunTak can’t stop thinking about it.
Today.
The day you’re going on a date with someone else.
The thought sits heavy in his chest as he shoves noodles into his mouth, barely tasting anything.
Across the table, Park Humin watches him with way too much interest.Then he laughs.
“Man, you look miserable.”
HyunTak doesn’t respond.He just keeps eating faster.
“You should’ve just told her you like her instead of sitting here like a loser,” Humin adds, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying this.
“Shut up, Baku,” HyunTak snaps, tone sharp.
“I don’t like her, okay?”
“Yeah,” Humin nods slowly.
“You don’t like her.”
A pause.
“You’re in love with her, dumbass.”
HyunTak’s chopsticks stop mid-air.
Across from them, Yeon Si-eun and Seong Juntae exchange confused looks, clearly having no idea what’s going on.
HyunTak exhales sharply and looks away.
He doesn’t answer or argue.He doesn't even deny it again.
Instead, he turns to Si-eun.
“You’re from Seoul, right?” he asks, voice steadier now.
“Do you know a guy named Kang WooYoung?”
Si-eun’s expression changes.
Just slightly.
But HyunTak notices.
“He’s from Seoul too,” HyunTak continues quickly.
“I just… want to know if he’s a decent guy.”
A pause.
“For a friend.”
The air shifts.
Subtle.
But enough.
And suddenly,
HyunTak wishes he hadn’t asked.
————————————————
Running has never been a problem for Go HyunTak.
Not during training.
Not during matches.
Not during fights.
But right now it is.
His breath comes out uneven as he runs down the street, pushing past people, ignoring the stares.
Because this isn’t just running.
It’s you.
It’s the thought of you sitting across from another guy.
Laughing. Smiling.
Looking at someone else the way you used to look at him.
His chest tightens.It is not from exhaustion.
From something else.
Maybe it’s not the running.
Maybe it’s the fact that he never realized how much he loved you.
He always told himself it was because you were his best friend.
That’s why he stayed close.
That’s why he cared.
That’s why he couldn’t stand it when you were sad.
But this?
This doesn’t feel like friendship.
He doesn’t want you with anyone else.
Not even a little.
And suddenly, everything makes sense.
Too late.
He should’ve said something.
When you gave him chances.
When you looked at him like that.
When you—
Now?
Now he’s just running after something that’s already slipping away.
From now on
He won’t hold back.
From now on
He won’t pretend.
From now on
He’ll say it.
Do it.
Show it.
From now on—
His steps slow.
Because he sees you.
You’re standing there.
Laughing.
With Kang WooYoung.
Your laugh—
It sounds so light.
So real.
So happy.
It makes his chest ache even more.
Wooyoung points at something nearby, saying something you don’t quite catch.
You turn your head to look.
Just for a second.
And that’s when it happens.
Wooyoung leans in.
And he presses a quick kiss to your cheek.
Your eyes widen as your face turns red almost instantly.You don’t even realize he planned it.
But HyunTak sees everything. And something inside him breaks.
His hands clench at his sides.
His jaw tightens.
Too late.
The thought settles in his chest like something heavy.
You and Seongje have been partners in the Union long enough to know that he's an absolute asshole to everyone, including you.
When a batch of stolen phones your members were handling suddenly disappears, everything becomes a problem. There’s only one person you can rely on, and it might be the worst possible one.
Word count : 800 i think
Notes : First fic so any feedback would mean alot!!
CHAPTER 1
Losing the phones was the worst thing that could’ve happened today. With all the problems that had already piled up, Baekjin had been losing patience with you. You didn’t know what to do or who to talk to, everyone here was just waiting to take advantage of any weakness you showed.
Then it hit you. Seongje.
You didn’t want to admit it, but he might be the only one you could tell, considering he had some kind of connection with Baekjin.
You gathered your courage, swallowed your pride, and decided to go pay him a visit at that café he’s always at.
You’re outside, still wondering if you should really go in. He’ll probably just laugh in your face, but you’re taking the risk. Either way, you’ll end up humiliated.
You take a step forward and enter the café.
The lights are low. All you can see are glowing screens and thick smoke hanging in the air. You look around, searching for Seongje, when someone approaches you.
“What are you doing here? I don’t think it’s for playing,” he says, laughing, his tone mocking.
It’s one of Seongje’s guys, the one who’s always around.
“Where is Seongje? I need to talk to him,” you say, trying to sound irritated.
The guy smirks and points somewhere. You finally spot Seongje and start walking toward him.
He’s so focused on his game, he doesn’t even notice you standing beside him.
His hands move rapidly over the keyboard, and his glasses reflect the flickering screen.
You’re still standing there when you decide to pull him out of his screen. You knock on the table to get his attention.
“Hello? Can you get your eyes off the computer for a second?” you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm.
He looks up at you, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing his face, not because of what you said, but because he’s clearly wondering what you’re doing here.
“Look who the wind brought to us. You sure you're not lost?”
“Save it," you shoot back. “Can we talk somewhere?”
You glance around, trying to find a corner where Seongje’s guys aren’t lurking.
"Didn’t know you were shy. Say it. We’re all listening.”
His response makes you hesitate. Coming here suddenly feels like a mistake. You’re about to say something in front of these people, something that could make you look weak.
You’re still stuck in your thoughts when he speaks again.
“I don’t have all the time in the world, Mirae. Are you going to talk?” he says, tapping his finger impatiently against the table.
“They lost the phones.”
“Who?”
“Who do you think? Those idiots. They had one job, and they screwed it up.”
“And what do you want me to do about it?”
He’s clearly getting annoyed now. You still haven’t answered him.
Then, suddenly, his expression shifts. His face lights up, a slow smile spreading across it.
“Wait… you’re in serious trouble now.” He sounds almost entertained. “You have to get those phones back tonight, or else…”
He lets the sentence hang, then starts laughing.
“What’s so funny, dumbass?”
“What? Can’t I laugh?” He tilts his head slightly. “I don’t want to assume you came here for my help… did you?”
You look away, trying not to let the humiliation show on your face.
“Bingo,” he says, grinning. “I love this game. Can’t wait to see what they’ll do to you.”
“Can you, for once, be serious?” you snap. “I never come to you for help youou know that. It’s just tonight… it’s Baekjin’s last straw. If I fail this, I’m done.”
“I know,” he says flatly. “That’s why I’m done listening.”
He turns back to his computer, already dismissing you, like you’re not even there.
You’re used to Seongje’s indifference. His bluntness. You knew he might react like this.
But somewhere deep down, you’d hoped he wouldn’t. You hoped he would show maybe not compassion, but something close to understanding.
He knew what happens when things like this go wrong. He’d been through it himself.
notes; tbh this is just my interpretation of how seong je would be in a relationship, it might be ooc for some of y’all but i don’t think he’d be manipulative or crazy. i still hope you like it:)
⤷ seongje doesn’t talk a lot, but he’s a good listener. you could be talking about anything, whether it’s important or unnecessary, he still listens carefully even though it doesn’t seem like it. he remembers almost everything that you say, and even if you tell the same story twice, he listens all over again without complaining. he just loves hearing you talk.
⤷ he only has pictures of you as his lock screen, and they’re always the most random ones. when you’re asleep, when you’re cooking, when you’re brushing your teeth or when you’re enjoying something, he takes pictures of you and immediately sets them as his lock screen. it changes all the time, whenever he has a new cute picture of you.
⤷ he doesn’t take small arguments seriously because you’re usually the one to start them, and he knows it’s always about something dumb. he tries to make you less upset by being playful, like tickling you to make you laugh or giving you a kiss that he knows makes you melt. but when you both get into a heated argument, it’s different. he definitely disappears for a few hours to calm down, probably smokes a lot, but he always does his best to apologize. flowers, kisses, even being clingy if it means you’re forgiving him.
⤷ he has been craving for a real connection with someone his whole life, so he’s definitely super attached to you. he doesn’t show it, but the fact that you actually love him and care about him makes him vulnerable inside. he always wanted to find the person that would make him feel worthy, and now that he has you, he isn’t ready to let go.
⤷ he honestly has a soft spot for you. he doesn’t act with you like he does with guys from the union. he tries to be gentle, to be a good boyfriend for you. sometimes, he can say things that hurts or he gets mad pretty easily, but he knows when to stop and apologize. he gets scared of losing you because of his temper, so he really tries his best for you.
⤷ he shows his love and affection for you in so many different ways, most of them being more subtle, like the way he looks at you. it’s always with the same spark in his eyes, and he’s never able to take his gaze off of you. it could be a bit surprising, but he’s also very into physical touch. twirling pieces of your hair with his fingers while you’re laying on top of him, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind whenever you’re cooking, holding your wrist when your walking together so he doesn’t lose you, sliding his hand in the back pocket of your pants to keep you close. he isn’t ashamed of his love for you.
⤷ he’s very loyal. from the moment he first laid his eyes on you, he has been loyal to you. he knows that he only needs you, so he genuinely doesn’t care about anyone else. you’ll never catch him talking to another girl, and he doesn’t even know why you would be scared of him cheating on you.
⤷ he spends all his free time with you. apart from all the union stuff, he doesn’t do anything else. so, he’s always with you. even if it means doing nothing. you could be doing your homework, he would sit beside you and just watch without feeling bored. when he’s busy, he sends you a text every few hours just to ask what you’re doing or if you already ate. sometimes, you’ll receive a ‘miss you so much’ when it’s late at night and he can’t be home with you.
⤷ he genuinely smiles with you, and you're the only one to see him like that. he's always smirking playfully to look intimidating with others, but not with you. when you're happy, when you're yapping about something, when you're having fun, he's smiling softly. sometimes, you even manage to make him laugh. he loves it when his cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing with you.
⤷ he's very patient with you. it doesn't seem like it, but he tries his best to understand you. sometimes, when you're crying over something and can barely speak to tell him what's happening, he'll just hold you and try to calm you down, giving you all the time in the world. if you're upset and refuse to tell him why, he'll patiently try to talk to you, putting all teasing and sarcasm aside.
⤷ he loves to kiss your cheeks a lot. it's random, but he loves how they turn pinkish when he presses his lips against them. so he does it all the time. when you wake up from a nap, he's already by your side, peppering your cheek with kisses and he likes how you always try to push him away with little giggles and your face all red.
⤷ seongje is ready to get a better life just for you. he wants you forever, he's sure of it, and if you ever ask him to leave the union, he will. if it means that he can spend a lifetime with you, he'll do anything.
author’s note – it’s my first time posting i’m so nervous and my account is literally so empty but dw a gotak bf hc is coming!
titsay
prguitarman
baratheonpilled
kianamaiart
gummygunk
2087
janainaart
tangentwithtanner
