Icecream (specifically cookies 'n' cream, because I love oreos), cats, winter, gold, candles, reading, sun ( but I also thrive at night), reading, going on walks, the moon, krnb, and music in general, Greek mythology, poetry, rainy / cloudy weather.
Hates ⊰
eggs, drinking plain milk, liars, hot weather (i hate sweating), having a heavy school bag, bananas (specifically anything artificially banana flavored), fruit chocolate flavors, mostly orange chocolate.
Scared of ⊰
Animals (i dont know why ok it's a very irrational fear), the ocean (even pools), heights, roller-coasters.
Fav colour ⊰
This weird mix of dark green (kind of like a slytherin green but a tiny bit more vibrant) , dark blue, red and hot pink.
Fav animal ⊰
owls (because they're my spirit animal), but ih really really love jellyfish.
Stans ⊰
Lesserafim, enha..
Fun fact⊰ if I were to be a pen I would most likely be a fountain pen with black ink.
Book recs ⊰
The lunar chronicles, boys of tomen, five survive, I hope this never finds you, Heartless, the cruel prince, crying in H-mart, Ariadne, Rebecca, a good girls guide to murder.
ⓘ I will keep updating this post, so if anything changes yk why.
People keep saying there’s a ceasefire but every single day we wake up to another explosion, another family destroyed, another name added to the list of martyrs. I’m writing this because the world thinks Gaza is “calm” now.
It’s not. The bombs didn’t stop. The drones didn’t stop. The funerals didn’t stop.
During this so-called ceasefire, dozens of people were killed. Homes were burned. Children were pulled from under the rubble. You’ll see the photos I’m adding below - all taken during the “pause”. This is what our reality looks like.
My own family is suffering too. We lost relatives. We lost our home.
312 Palestinians have been killed, entire families wiped out during a time that was supposed to bring safety.!
Here is the donation link for my family’s emergency fund:
PRECIS. the chances of you confessing to your crush sums to zero when you realise you have to pretend to have a crush on sunghoon, just to help your friend hide her feelings for the ice prince.
or, alternatively, in which you borrow an eraser from your friend, yi kyeong, which has sunghoon’s name written on it ( or so you think ) so, when the mentioned boy sees it, you have no other choice but to lie that you have a crush on him to avoid disclosing your friend’s secret.
GENRE. humour, fluff, angst if you squint hard enough, coming of age
WARNINGS. very minor angst ( 4.14k )
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you’re considering changing schools, really.
ignoring sunghoon doesn’t help. he’s too hashtag deep into getting to know you better that he accompanies you almost everywhere. your mornings for the past three days have been commencing with sunghoon and ending with him as well. moreso, you have people looking at you while you commute through school as if you’re on a red carpet. you wake up and greet your a couple hundred new followers on instagram who have you added in a group called ‘sunghoon shrine.’ it makes sense. the school's most popular boy, who has never shown interest in anyone, suddenly started talking to you and acting like you’re his top priority. it makes completely, hundred percent sense. you’d be curious too if your favourite celebrity suddenly started hanging out with some random person.
it’s like a revolution and you don’t want to be a part of it.
“tired?” kyeong asks, sitting next to you by the track field. “looks like you’ve gotten busier.”
yeah, you have, and the pain is visible on your face. you want to get back to the days when people paid you no mind and continued with their life. waking up to a bunch of notifications and post-it notes on your locker, asking for sunghoon’s number or one of his exclusive pictures is draining you out; and surprisingly, you don’t have sunghoon’s number in the first place. “kyeong, help me,” you whine, leaning onto her shoulders as she shoves you away.
“i’m sure the gossip will die down in a few days,” enjoy the fame while you can, yes. you know she was going to add that too. however, this isn’t fun. as much as you’re enjoying this special treatment from sunghoon, it feels as if you’re walking on eggshells; like your life resonates between the flight of bumblebee and hall of mountain king as your theme songs.
besides, kyeong likes sunghoon and you’re practically deceiving her. even though she knows you and sunghoon as just friends, that’s simply what you wanted her to know. she doesn’t know he’s trying to get to know you better for the sake of a relationship, or that sunghoon knows about the eraser but he thinks you have a crush on him instead of kyeong.
it’s a mess, and it’s hard trying not to break someone’s heart. she doesn’t know the truth. she doesn’t even know you have a date with sunghoon after school.
“whatever, are you going to audition for that cinderella play?” oh, right. you forgot about it. you don’t have a picturesque memory either way and sunghoon is simply making it harder for you to focus on things that are not him. you’re sure kyeong would say something along the lines of ‘you’re down bad,’ if you ever told her about your dilemma, and honestly, you are. you are down bad to escape sunghoon, get out of his life or just get him out of yours; whichever is faster and easier.
“are you?” you counter as a football rolls near your legs, your eyes following the player following it shortly. it’s sunghoon, and he— wait, he plays volleyball, so why is he on the field playing in the football team? whatever, it’s none of your business anyway. you pass the ball, a soft thank you slips off his lips as he runs away. a pause, you are getting ideas and maybe, maybe sunghoon is about to become your business if you put enough effort into it. “do you think sunghoon will audition for prince charming?”
you see her smirk as he nudges your shoulders. “why, are you planning to be his cinderella?”
“what? ew, no,” okay, maybe the ew was an exaggeration. though, the thought of you being cinderella when he’s prince charming makes you want to puke. “i’m just asking because he’s the most suitable candidate. besides, you can audition for cinderella.”
oh, you feel so smart for coming up with the plan : have them casted, they kiss and fall in love. probably the smartest you’ve ever been. cupid has a competition and it’s you.
“why would i audition for cinderella if—” she pauses, lips curling into a smile as her eyes set on something behind you. kyeong doesn’t waste another moment, proceeding to stand up and pat the dust off her uniform. “senior,”
you feel the air around you shift.
“hope i’m not interrupting something,” she’s quick to shake her head in denial, the smile never leaving her lips while you witness the whole scene from the sidelines. “i was hoping you’d audition for cinderella in the play. no pressure, just that your performance was great in last year’s play,”
“ah, of course, i would. are you audi—”
a frown sets on her face as the supposed ‘senior’s’ phone rings. you feel the air shift, yet again. “i have to answer this. see you in the club room later!”
“see you!” you’re not sure what you saw. yi kyeong, your friend, the yi kyeong who’s known for decking people in her first year switched personalities like it was her favourite colour. “turns out, i’m auditioning,”
yeah no, you couldn’t care less about the senior or the personality shift. at least, he made your job a tad bit easier. now, all you need to do is convince sunghoon.
.
.
.
“do you need something?” sunghoon asks, grabbing his earphones from the locker. now, how do you explain that you need him to audition for prince charming’s role so that you can set him and your friend up?
“oh, nothing? i was just curious about what you were doing,” and park sunghoon is actually gullible enough to buy that. honestly, your excuse is not baseless, considering how you both are in the ‘talking stage’ of the relationship. “have you heard about the auditions for the cinderella play?”
he nods, closing his locker. “yes, jake is one of the hosts. why do you ask?”
“uhh, i was wondering if you’d like to audition for prince charming?” you could’ve voice it better. you know, more confident, making it sound less like you’re plotting something. you’re in no state to answer any questions, if he ever asks.
he blinks, and then blinks again. a few seconds bask in silence and you’re ready to apologise but sunghoon beats you to it. “will you audition for cinderella?”
as proven, you’re in no state to answer questions, especially that one. why would you even audition for cinderella? first of all, you can’t act to save your life. second of all, even if you could, you wouldn’t audition when sunghoon is the most probable candidate for the main lead. “why do you ask?”
“i’ll register if you audition for cinderella,” nah, ain’t no way park sunghoon just did that and walked away like he didn’t just flip your head upside-down. you turn around, watching him waltz through the hallways like king louis xvi or something. at this point, you’re simply resisting the urge to yell at him.
you almost give up. almost.
you’ll get a number of opportunities to set him and kyeong up together, maybe the luck isn’t on your side. moreover, sunghoon is the only suitable candidate for prince charming in your eyes. there’s no way the theatre club is accepting someone else if a man like him is breathing among the peasants. so, in the end, they will cast him no matter what. yes, you’re right, they will.
but what if they don’t? you hate your mind for holding onto that question and making it your living crisis but truthfully, you have this situation under your control. all you have to do is audition and surprise, sunghoon’s already casted. besides, you do feel bad for backing off when you can literally save everyone some time and help them for your greater good.
all you have to do is audition, it’s easy, like a cakewalk, taking a lollipop from a kid. maybe not the last one since, kids these days are animalistic ( you’ve heard a few barking on streets ) it’s still easy, very easy.
you can do it.
.
.
.
yes, you can do it.
you have another plan. all you have to do is go to the stage and give the most mind-rotting, heart-stopping, life-ruining audition ever. you have to unleash the unskilled actor inside you, make it look like you can do anything but act. you have to drag the cinderella role around and make it seem like even the one playing as the tree in the backdrop is a better actor than you.
yes, it’ll leave you embarrassed. you’ll actually have to switch schools, probably; but it’s fine, as long as sunghoon gets the prince charming role.
“alright, next.” one of the club heads announce and surprisingly, the senior from earlier today is present as well. you watch the participant walk up the stage and god, everyone auditioning for cinderella looks drop dead gorgeous. “kim sunoo, you’re auditioning for cinderella?”
“yes.” he replies.
“why?”
“do you think there’s anyone else who fits the role more than me?” you almost scoffed out loud. the confidence? the charm? the smirk on his face? he fits the role of evil step mother more than cinderella. while waiting for your turn, you search for kyeong, remembering you haven’t seen her in the club room at all. a part of you wonders if she dipped— even though she isn’t like this— you couldn’t help but worry about your whole plan going down the drain.
you excuse yourself out of the club room, halting by the neighbouring classroom when you see a familiar figure sitting by the teacher’s desk. “yi kyeong?” turns out it’s actually her, and you release the breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding in for a while now. “what’s wrong?”
despite doing everything for your own good, you couldn’t help but worry about her. kyeong is perhaps the most self-righteous person you’ve ever met, in a good way. she’s confident in herself, she knows what she’s capable of and what not. she’s not afraid to try, even if she thinks it’s beyond her limits. so, seeing her all alone like this, it felt just like failing a test of a subject you’ve mastered.
she looks into your eyes, a hint of hesitation settling on her face. “yn, i’m scared. everyone here is so good.” you want to laugh, not the right timing, but you want to.
“no, stop. you’re better. you received the best female lead award last year, you can do it.” you assure, and it’s really funny coming from someone who’s probably the best candidate for cinderella’s role, saying that she’s scared. you wouldn’t say other participants auditioning are unskilled, neither do you know if there’s anyone out there who’s better than her. however, little do you know that your performance is definitely going to make her confidence fall back at her feet for kyeong to pick it up.
“yn, they’re calling you inside.” one of the club members informs you. a sigh spins into the air as you look at your friend, nodding as she shoots you an assuring smile. you can do it. you’re going to give your worst.
“yn— oh, you’re yi kyeong’s friend!” the club president exclaims as soon as you step in front of perform and ironically, it’s the senior; something seonghwa, as his jacket says. “i’m looking forward to your performance.”
yeah, no don’t. you don’t want anyone to look forward to anything you’re going to do for the next five minutes or so. this is about your reputation, your dignity, your highschool life, and everything else. and, how you had dreamt of a highschool life like in those movies, peaceful like quilts falling on glistening water; but, after all, movies are just movies. real life is much different, because right now you’re going to embarrass yourself in front of everyone for your best friend and the guy she likes.
“i’ll start,” you shook an awkward smile, a deep breath, it’s now or never. “here . . . kitty kitty kitty kitty . . . c’mon kitty . . .” a pause, your voice dies of shame and regrets. “Lucifer! come here—” that was so loud, you practically see a few people flinch.
“wait, wait,” one of the judges interjects, shuffling through their script. “which scene are you enacting?”
you cock your face to your left, awkwardly. “the opening scene?”
seonghwa sighs. he’s probably regretting looking forward to your performance. “no no, do that one. the one with the prince, where cinderella runs away.”
you get in stance, clearing your throat for another life-threatening performance. “oh . . . but i must go—”
“stop,” the judges interrupt again and this time, you’re fueling with anger. maybe if they didn’t want you to perform, they shouldn’t have added your name in the first place. “yn, there’s the passion?”
“i’m giving my everything, jay.” what a liar.
“you aren’t giving shit.” jay deadpans, rolling his eyes as you stand with your hands on your hips as if you’ve just served an oscar worthy performance. “you sound dead inside, as if you didn’t want to go to the ball in the first place.” no he’s right, you didn’t want to. you’re the only cinderella in the whole world who wants to avoid the ball and the prince, at all cost. you are, in fact, dead inside.
“alright, let’s try again—”
“no, thank you.” you refuse, or more like, take your time and try your shot at getting out of this place right now. “that’s all i had. i hope i get selected.” funny, very funny. only fools would select someone as talented as you for a play that’s supposed to be streamed live on the school's youtube account.
you rush your way outside the club room, ignoring the giggles and murmurs that followed. it’s fine, you anticipated this and brought this upon yourself. you don’t know why you feel bad, though. maybe because everyone is making fun of you, or perhaps, it’s kyeong and how she’s finally going to get the role; happy tears, for sure. or maybe, it’s because of sunghoon. maybe you expected him to be there, no matter how ugly and unclassy your performance was. after all, you did it for him. he asked you to audition, and for someone who wants him out of their life, you sure are more upset than you should be.
“i was looking for you,” you look up in the direction of the voice, eyes residing upon sunghoon as he hands you a bottle of water before standing next to you, by the classroom window. “i thought you wanted to watch yi kyeong’s performance.”
you chuckle. you don’t need to be there to know she’d do great. you just know it. she has always been the ideal student and it’s for a reason. “i know she’ll do amazing, as always.”
“are you jealous?” it’s a question that catches you off guard. you don’t know where it came from, or what made him think you’re jealous of kyeong. she has a lot of qualities, and honestly, you have wished for wanting to be like her; but jealousy is not the right word. “sorry, that didn’t sound right. but, you did your best, too. it was good.”
you laugh, and it’s probably the only genuine one so far today. ‘doing your best,’ it’s funny. you know you could’ve done better, you are better, but you did it for your friend, for him. you don’t know if sunghoon means his word. you’re not sure if he actually found your performance good or if he’s consoling you just for the sake of it. it’s probably the latter, however, you’re thankful for it, even if it’s just fake comfort.
“thanks?” yeah, it’s just fake. after all, everything so far is fake. the confession, the rejection, it sounds scripted. maybe, this is the most you and sunghoon have talked till date. you do want to stay away from him, you still do, but today can be an exception. “are we still down for today?”
you didn’t mean to ask that. you don’t know why you asked that, but when you notice the corner of his lips curl up, you realise that it was the right move. “the date? of course.”
thinking about it now, you haven’t seen sunghoon smile. well, you have, but not with you. not like you are a reason for him to smile, but you’d be lying if you say you don’t find his smile pretty. it’s adorable, especially the way his nose scrunches up and the way his eyes close completely when he grins. it’s cute, you think, and then find yourself too stunned to think further when you realise you just called him cute inside your head.
“uh, i’ll go.” yeah, it’s better to leave. you’re losing your mind after talking to him. god knows what made you think staying around sunghoon was a good idea.
“yn,” he calls your name, having you turn around to look at him. “see you later.” and lord, your heart might’ve just done something unspeakable.
.
.
.
it’s arrhythmia.
you’re sure it’s arrhythmia because ain’t know way you’re experiencing increased heartbeats all of a sudden. you’re glad you had only half the classes or you would’ve fainted. to be honest, your current stance isn’t any better. you’re here outside school, waiting for sunghoon to come so that you can go to the cafe together for your silly little ‘date.’ you can’t believe you had to lie to kyeong about it.
on another note, he’s late. you’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes. you didn’t know school’s heartthrob has no punctuality. you wonder if the teachers would get upset if they know that their favourite boy makes his date wait for over fifteen minutes. you’re about to give him a call when your phone rings inside your pocket and coincidently, it’s a call from him.
“hi yn, i’m sorry for being la—”
“hello to you too mr. park sunghoon.” you cut him off, slight mockery evident in your tone as you feel him hesitate on the other side. “if i may remind you, we have a date.”
you hear him sigh through the phone. “i know, i’m sorry. i didn’t know the coach would hold us back for extra practice. if you want, i can try asking to leave early.”
“no, please. i’m joking. you don’t have to skip practice for me,” you smile, pacing around the school exit. well, normally you would’ve been feral but logically, it would be a waste for him to skip practice for a date that isn’t even real. “i’ll go home. we can go out some other day,”
“no wait, yn. at least let me walk you home,” that’s completely, totally, certainly, unasked for. you don’t know whether you should be happy or sad, or going crazy and dancing in the middle of the road. “we had to cancel our date so let me make it up to you. do you mind waiting for another fifteen minutes?”
“no.” it’s a quick response, one that leaves you surprised at yourself. you do mind waiting. it’s getting dark, you don’t know why you said you didn’t, and that too fifteen minutes. even so, you can’t bring yourself to say the truth.
“great. i’ll be there soon,” you feel him smile through his words, reciprocating a smile back without your knowledge. “wait for me.”
and so you do. you could’ve waited in the library or some nearby cafe or the volleyball gym itself. however, you stayed where you were : by the exit. of course, you’ve had a fair share of students and passers-by shoot you with varied looks of concern, but you successfully fooled them by pretending to be on a call, or so you think. it’s crazy how you’re here wasting time on a boy you want out of your life. you hate how you’ve only known sunghoon for a little over four days and discovered parts of you that you never knew existed before.
you wouldn’t say you like him, but he’s not a bad guy either. sunghoon was never the wrong option in your eyes, honestly. he’s simply not the right one for you. there are differences that you can’t ignore, and certain things about him that you loathe. for example, how time seems to pass slowly when he’s not around.
“yn!” finally. an involuntary smile makes its way to your lips as you hear a familiar voice approaching you from a distance. “did i make you wait for too long?”
you chuckle, looking at sunghoon, who’s panting for air. his hair is in a mess, the chains on his bag aren't fully done, and from looking at the bottle in his hands, you realise he didn’t even drink water after practice. “i don’t know, you tell me.”
“i’m sorry,” your smile grows bigger at his soft apology.
you pat his shoulders, navigating through the streets illuminated by dim street lamps. “it’s okay, i was joking.”
“by the way, i got selected for prince charming’s role.” suddenly, your smile vanishes into thin air. you don’t know why that happened. in fact, you should be happy. kyeong and sunghoon acting together in the play, it’s what you’ve wished for the whole day. this is what you sacrificed your reputation for and yet for some reason, you find yourself forcing a smile at him. “and kyeong as cinderella.”
“isn’t that amazing? she’s good at what she does,” it’s not a lie and sungoon knows that. if there’s something you’ve learnt about her over the years, it’s her sheer determination. you snicker, thinking about the morning when kyeong said she was ‘scared’ to audition. looking back at it now, maybe that was just a prank to mock you, even though she would never do that. it truly is amazing, watching the prince charming and cinderella come together. “you both look really good together.”
on other days, you would have regretted saying that. however, today you don’t have any plans on taking it back. what’s true is true, and there’s no point denying it. “i wouldn’t be surprised if you both receive the best actor and actress this year,” another forced smile, another wave of suspicion passes over sunghoon. “you know, for the couple event at the school festival, you should participate with her. she’s really good at games, just like you. besides, she thinks you’re cool so—”
“what about you?” the question leaves you speechless, fiddling with your fingers as you bite your inner cheeks while thinking of a response. “what do you think about me?”
god, it’s back, the arrhythmia.
at this point, you don’t even care about the question. you’re worried that if sunghoon kept staring at you like this, you’d pass out. “me, uh, why does it matter?”
“it does. it matters to me.” you can’t defend yourself anymore. sunghoon knows his way around with words. he doesn’t talk much, but he says a lot in the way his eyes look at you. though, unable to interpret his gaze, you find yourself experiencing a funny feeling in your chest as your face heats up alarmingly. “why do you keep recommending yi kyeong to me? you don’t like me anymore?”
once again, you’re taken aback. you can’t tell the truth, and you don’t want to lie. so, you simply recite the facts. “i mean, i do but, isn’t kyeong better? she has good grades, she’s pretty, she’s good in extracurricular activities, she's everything that i’m not. why do you even bother going out with someone like me?” maybe, that’s a lot of facts in one. it hurts for you to say those words, but at the end of the day, it’s true. being with sunghoon wouldn’t change the fact that yi kyeong deserves him more than anyone else in the whole world.
“she’s not you,” he gulps and for the first time, you sense fear in his voice. you don’t know why, you just do. “she gets good grades, she’s good in extracurricular activities but she’s not you. and i like you, not her. so, don’t even use the ‘someone like me’ phrase for yourself ever again.”
before you realise, you’re already in front of your house. actually, you’ve been standing here for around ten minutes, just too lost in each other to even notice. you’re not sure if you process his words completely or correctly. all you know is that you’ve made a mistake, and now his words are stuck inside your head. he mutters a faint goodbye before proceeding to walk away, leaving you with all the uneasy feelings intoxicating your heart.
“by the way,” he says, making you flinch a little as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt while awaiting his words. “you are beautiful.” and then all you can remember is falling for the boy who never belonged to you in the first place.
NOTE. skdjjs getting into the story ayo ??? pls i had so much fun writing the last scene it's what inspired me to write this series. like i can't believe im writing this for one scene godbless. there's a big hint in this chapter pls ive you've watched the show you know, if not, you try to find it ( i dont think it's that hard to figure it out skskks ) lol anyway good night wish me luck for my bio exam tmr rip
Tags: fluff, first meeting, first kiss, strangers to lovers
Summary: When the power goes out while you’re in an ATM vestibule, you come to realize you’re stuck inside until the police come to open the door. But there’s one problem, you don’t speak a lick of Korean, and the man inside doesn’t seem to speak an ounce of English.
———
A/N: Please note that sentences that are Italicized are meant to be in Korean and sentences that are regular text are in English.
‘How are you?’ - English
‘I’m fine thank you, and you?’ - Korean
—————————————————————————
Luck was not on your side today.
It’s not like you’re an unlucky person as a whole, no, that’s not it. Today was just one of those days that when you say ‘How could this get any worse?’, the universe takes it as a challenge.
Perhaps you should’ve just kept your mouth shut after you spilled coffee on your blouse this morning. But, you’ve always been such a ‘glass-half-full’ sort of person that you tried to take every inconvenience in stride. Everyone has their limit, though.
Before you came here on a business trip, you had heard about the Korean Monsoon season.
Everyone and their mother told you about how much it would pour, how it would feel like the skies suddenly opened up. But, you didn’t take anyone’s warning seriously. You would wave them off with a scoff.
“It’s just rain,” you thought. “How bad could it be?”
You’re eating those words now as you run through the streets in your nice, newly-soaked, professional heels. Your slacks are sticking to your legs, making the fabric ten times heavier. With your bag held over your head, you look around frantically for the bank.
It doesn’t help that it’s close to 10 PM and visibility is already horrible at this time. Yes, you should have gone earlier, but you were distracted!
Where is it? Where is it?
There!
You spot the glass doors and practically sprint up to them, grab the handle, and rip the door open.
A giant sigh of relief comes out of your lips as you step inside the tiny vestibule.
The only other man inside the place jumps a bit at your noise. He glances over his shoulder at you, but immediately turns back to what he’s doing at the ATM. You pay him no mind as you shake the rainwater off of your bag.
It’s after hours at the bank, meaning the only thing open and available is one ATM inside the room between the bank itself and the streets of Seoul.
Soft beeping comes from the ATM as the other man presses a few buttons. There’s an umbrella on the floor at his feet.
After brushing the water off your jacket, you bring your bag in front of you and start fishing out your card. Countless items inside your bag are now completely soaked.
Ugh, there goes all those business cards you collected at the meeting. Most of the ink is bleeding off the cardstock. Maybe, if you try really hard, you can make out the phone numbers on the cards.
Is that a 6 or an 8?
Or maybe the email addresses will be easier to understand. Surely, it just their names and their company’s–
There’s a bright flash of lightning followed immediately by a booming clap of thunder at the same time the lights in the ATM vestibule flicker and go out completely.
You fight the yelp that bubbles in your throat. The man in front of you seems to lose the fight against his reactions and lets out a tiny yip.
His shoulders come up and he seems to bristle like a cat.
“You’re kidding,” you mumble, looking up at the lights. It was almost pitch black inside now, save for the tiny emergency lights that kick on on either side of the glowing Exit sign.
The man lets out a grumble and a sigh.
You look over and see that the ATM has completely shut off. Figures.
The storm must’ve triggered some sort of power outage. Great. Now you’ll have to find some other ATM.
Why, oh why, did the restaurant that your boss wanted to take you to tomorrow morning have to be cash only?
Whatever, there should be a bank a few blocks from here.
Your heels click on the tile as you make your way to the door. When you grab the handle and pull, it doesn’t budge.
There’s a beat.
You try again, really putting your back into it this time.
“Am I stupid or what?” you whisper to yourself, trying the other door and pulling equally as hard.
“They’re not going to open,” the man behind you says. “The fail-safe locks probably kicked in once the power went out. It’s a security measure.”
You turn around and look at him with a blank look on your face. “Oh, ah, um… s-sorry, no… no Korean.”
The man blinks at you. “You don’t speak Korean?”
You blink right back at him. “Um…” All you can do is shake your head with wide eyes and a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry,” you repeat.
Another series of blinks are exchanged.
“No… Korean?” he asks slowly. His English sounds so unsure.
You nod. “No… no Korean.”
A tiny, exasperated sigh comes from his lips and he looks around, as if anything inside this tiny little room would be able to help him communicate with you. Meanwhile, you turn back to the door and give it another sharp tug to no avail.
“No,” he says firmly, drawing your attention back to him. He motions down to the door handles and then shakes his head.
“No?” you repeat, a bit confused.
“No.”
Honestly, the primitive conversation between the two of you would be somewhat laughable if you didn’t feel frustrated beyond belief.
“Why?” you ask, becoming annoyed. Obviously, he knows something that you don’t.
The man blinks at you and shifts around nervously on his feet. His hands motion around as he tries to conjure up a sentence in English. “N… No. Closed?... Closed.” He nods, saying the word rather confidently.
Yes, you know the door is closed. But, why?
After a second, he sees that whatever he said evidently isn’t good enough, so he points back to the ATM, to the light that is now off due to no power, and then to the locks. You follow his pointing and the cogs in your brain start turning slowly.
“Fail-safe locks,” you state and then finally release the door handles.
“Fail… Fail-safe locks,” he repeats slowly. “Fail-safe locks.”
“Fail-safe locks?” you parrot his Korean back to him and he nods.
A small hum comes from your chest and you take a step back from the door finally. “How long do you think–” you cut yourself off when you look over at him. The man is staring at you, not following a word you’re saying.
Your hand comes up and you brush some wet hair off your forehead and then scratch the back of your head as a nervous tick. There’s no point in even asking the question, he won’t be able to understand anything you’re saying.
If you were in his shoes, you’d probably be a bit annoyed too. But at the same time, he’s already been kinder than most would be in this situation.
He’s locked in an ATM vestibule with someone who doesn’t speak the same language as him– in his own country. He’s been more than kind. Most people would just wave you off and forget trying to communicate at all.
But here he was, talking slowly and making sure you can understand what he’s saying. He’s going so far as to point around the room to make sure you understand.
The man notices you give up and he lets out a tiny sigh, turning to then peer out the glass doors at the streets of Seoul. There’s basically no one out there, everyone has taken shelter from the squall.
“We’ll have to wait until the police come to open the door.” He pats at his pockets, searching for his phone.
Even with how terrible your Korean is, you still pick up on a few words. “Police?” A beat. “Police?”
“Yes,” he answers in English, taking his phone out and tapping the screen a few times before holding it up to his ear. The man continues to look through the glass doors, watching all the different cars drive by, none of them police cars.
You decide to turn around, walking around the tiny room.
All of the lights are off except for the emergency lights. They cast a dull glow through the entirety of the vestibule. There's barely enough light to see from one side of the room to the other.
Rain starts hammering against the glass as the man speaks into his phone. “Yes, hi, hello. I am currently trapped with another woman inside the ATM vestibule of Metrobank Seoul… Namdaemunno… Yes, that one.”
Your ears perk up when he mentions the name of the bank and the address. Ah, he must have called the police. His face pulls into a slightly annoyed look, but he doesn’t speak with a hint of it through the phone, at least, not that you’re really able to tell.
The man says a few more words into the phone before he hangs up with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair and then down his face in an exasperated fashion before turning to look at you. His mouth opens to say something, but he thinks better of it and he grimaces even more.
Your own features pull into a sympathetic expression and you look away, slightly embarrassed. Should you have learned more of the language before coming here? Absolutely. But at the same time, you didn’t have much time to prepare once you were told you had to travel here for business.
He shuffles from foot to foot and looks around, shoving his hands in his pockets and desperately trying to remember every English class he took in school.
“Police…” he says slowly, thinking through every word he wants to try and say. “Police are… busy.”
“Busy?”
“Yes. Busy. Busy with… car…” He brings both of his hands together and claps and then makes an explosion noise with his hands.
“A car accident?”
He snaps his fingers and points to you, as if you’re a team during a game of charades.
“Car accident,” he says in Korean.
“Car accident,” you repeat and he nods.
Despite the reality of the situation, you smile. The humor in all of this does not escape you. You decide to try and meet him halfway, even with your butchered pronunciation.
“Police… time… long?” Your head cocks to the side and you point to your watch. He shakes his head and shrugs in exaggerated movements.
Scoffing, you roll your eyes. The accident was that bad, huh? No wonder the power went out then, the car must have smashed into electrical lines after that loud clap of thunder. This probably means all of the traffic lights and such are out too.
The police are most likely directing traffic and making sure no one gets injured; two idiots stranded in an ATM vestibule are the least of their concerns. Honestly, you can’t be in a safer place. Well, unless this guy is a murderer, but you haven’t gotten a harsh vibe yet.
You sigh and lean against the wall near the corner across from the ATM. Your body slides down to the floor and you stare straight ahead. It seems like you’re going to be in here for a while then.
The man takes one last look outside the doors before walking in your direction. He leans against the adjacent wall and takes a seat on the floor with you. His shoes almost touch the side of yours. It’s at this time that you let yourself take a moment to really look at him.
He has to be around your age; older than a college graduate but younger than someone settled into their career. Something that definitely doesn’t escape your attention is how… pretty he is. His skin is near perfect and so is his hair. Everything, down to the clothes he’s wearing, is absolutely flawless– and he’s only in sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie!
Next to him, especially in your current drowned rat state, you probably look like something worse than a hot mess. You quickly comb your hair off your forehead once more and pull at your soaking wet clothes sticking to your skin.
The man’s lips purse for a moment and he opens his mouth as if to say something, then promptly stops, opting for a grumble of frustration.
After a moment, an idea flickers through your mind and you hold up one finger to him to say ‘one moment’. You reach down into your pocket for your phone and take it out, tapping at a few screens and bringing up the Translate app.
‘What’s your name?’ you type into the phone and it immediately translates it into Korean below it. You turn your phone around and hold it up to him.
The man looks at you, then your phone, and his eyes light up. If you’re not mistaken, you even see a little bit of relief flash over his features. A tiny smirk pulls at one corner of his lips before he looks back at you.
“Minho,” he answers and motions to you.
“Y/N,” you reply. “Nice to meet you, Minho.” You hold your hand out for a handshake.
Minho looks at your hand and his smirk gets wider before he grabs your hand and shakes it gently. The skin on his palm is so soft. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”
After shaking his hand, you bring your phone back up to your face and type another sentence into the translate app.
‘I’m very sorry for not knowing Korean, I’m here on business.’
Minho looks at your phone, reading the statement before shaking his head and pulling out his own phone. He types away and then holds it up for you to read.
‘No need to apologize. With my line of work, my English should be better. It’s a very hard language to learn.’
A little laugh huffs from your nose and you nod and type.
‘Try learning Korean.’
Minho laughs with you and his smirk grows into a playful smile. Jesus Christ, this man is gorgeous. He looks down and taps a bit on his phone and then he holds it up to you. With the way his smirk pulls at his lips, it almost reminds you of a devious little cat.
‘I could tell you were a foreigner when you first came into the bank.’
Your eyebrow raises. “Oh, really?”
He’s chuckling when he brings his phone back to type more and then hold it up for you to read.
‘You don’t have an umbrella.’
Laughter leaves your lips when you read that and your head tilts back to rest against the wall. The wetness from your clothes is beginning to seep into your bones. Plus, the feeling of the fabric sticking to your skin is starting to become overstimulating.
But, you try and keep it together. You don’t really have another option at the moment.
You type a message back to Minho.
‘People tried to warn me about the Monsoon Season. As you can see, I didn’t listen.’
He reads your message and sucks his teeth with a smirk. Minho shakes his head and motions to the glass doors, as if to say ‘Look!’.
“I know, I know!” you laugh and look outside at the sheets of rain pouring from the sky. Puddles have turned into small ravines flowing down the sides of the road. Any car that passes by creates a huge splash as they pass through them.
Every once in a while, the sky will light up and thunder will follow it quickly.
Minho laughs with you. “Next time… you listen.” He nudges your leg with his foot.
You look over at him. “I will, trust me.”
A long look is shared between the two of you. There’s this tiny nagging feeling at the back of your mind, it’s that same feeling you get when you see someone in public that you swear you’ve seen before. Maybe he just has one of those faces?
No, you definitely haven’t met him before. You would remember if he was someone you shook hands with in the last few days. A man that gorgeous would never slip under your radar, you’re certain.
Minho stares back at you, eyes flitting about at your soaking wet hair matting to your skin. It looks like his one hand twitches for a moment and then he shifts in his seat.
Back to the app.
The two of you type away on your phones and hold them up at the same time with the exact same question on them.
‘What do you do for work?’
‘What do you do for work?’
Again, the two of you let out little huffs of laughter and he motions to you as if to tell you to go first.
So you do, you type down on your phone a little answer for him.
‘Right now, I’m only the assistant to a CEO for a huge company. Wherever he goes, I go. I write all his contracts; everything he does goes through me first. I’m more of an administrator than an assistant, though.’
Minho reads your answer carefully and then types out a small response with a tiny crease in between his brows.
‘Why do you say ‘right now’?’
A sad smile spreads on your face as you look down at your phone to type out a response.
‘I studied hard and have a Mathematics degree. But no matter where I apply, they say I don’t have enough experience. Back in America, the job market is absolutely horrible. So, I’m stuck.’
Minho’s eyes scan through your message and a frown pulls at his lips. He looks back up at you, meeting your eyes and then back to your phone before he begins to type his own message.
Your silent communication warms your heart a little bit. The glow from his phone lights up his features and you study him carefully. His teeth poke out from his top lip– it’s absolutely adorable.
He seems to think for a long moment before his thumbs fly over his screen.
Rain is coming down in sheets outside the door, it’s the only other sound inside the room besides the light clicking of the haptics on his phone.
You reach back and once more run your fingers through your hair– it seems to be drying now, but not in a good way. The humidity of the rain is apparent in the way it's starting to frizz up.
Minho turns his phone around after a moment of typing.
‘I’ve heard about how hard it is to get a job in America, I’m very sorry it’s so unfair. For what it’s worth, I think there’s nothing wrong with the job you have now. Hard work is hard work no matter if it's an assistant or a scientist.’
His words strike a chord within your heart, they tug at your chest and at the corner of your lips which twitch into a wistful smile on your face.
“Thank you,” you say to him in Korean, looking directly into his eyes. Minho smiles back at you when he hears it.
“You are welcome,” he answers in English.
His smile seems so warm for a stranger. He looks at you as if you’re an old friend, not like a woman, still soaking wet from the rain, sitting on the floor with him inside an ATM vestibule. He’s so genuine.
After a few seconds of just looking at him, you bring your phone up to type once more.
‘Your turn. What do you do?’
Minho stares at your phone for a long time, seemingly reading the sentence over and over again. His bottom lip pulls between his teeth and he seems to weigh something in his mind.
His brown eyes flick to yours, then back to the phone, then back to you again before he looks down at his phone.
You never realized how much just body language alone can convey.
He types slower, his thumbs not moving as quickly as before. Why does he seem so apprehensive?
Eventually, he turns the phone around.
‘I’m an idol.’
“Oh,” you say softly. Your shoulders shrug a bit and you cock your head to the side. “Like a K-pop idol?”
Minho nods in response. “Stray Kids.”
The name rings a bell, it’s just one you’ve heard floating around for a few months now. You think one of your friends is into them, but you can’t remember. She’s into so many different groups, it’s hard to keep track anymore.
You type in your phone.
‘I’ve heard the name before. Weren’t you guys at the MET Gala?’
With a breathy chuckle, he nods. A smile spreads across your face.
‘Wow, I’m trapped in a room with a celebrity then. You know, people write stories like this.’
Your joke definitely lands because he snorts a huff of laughter as you type on your phone a little bit more after that.
‘Don’t worry, I won’t take pictures and post them all over Twitter or anything. This will just be a funny story for me to tell my friends when I get back home to America.’
“Thank you,” Minho says softly with genuine gratitude in his voice. God, you can’t even imagine what it’s like being an idol. There probably wasn’t a single place he felt safe going to anymore. There are always cameras just waiting to take his picture.
‘When do you go back to America?’
‘In a few days. My boss loves to extend his business trips at the last minute. So, I could be here three more days or seven more days. It’s very hard to pack to come on these trips.’
A bittersweet expression settles on his handsome face.
You think for a long moment before typing away at your phone and showing it to him.
‘Have you ever been to New Jersey? That’s the state I’m from.’
Minho’s lips purse as he thinks for a long few moments. Very slowly, he nods, almost unsure. He types in his phone, then thinks for a moment, then types again.
‘I think we’ve been there twice. Is Newark in New Jersey?’
Excitedly, you nod. “Yes, that’s up in North Jersey!” You’re so excited that you forget to type down on your phone. “Oh!” you say with a laugh, looking back down at your phone.
‘Yes, that’s in the northern part of the state, about an hour or so from my hometown. I grew up in the central region, right on the beach. It only takes ten minutes to get to the beach from my house.’
Minho’s smile widens and he looks at you with a slightly envious look in his eyes. You giggle in response.
‘Two other members love the beach, but they’re from Australia.’
‘Australian beaches are probably not that different from American beaches. But I’ve never been to Australia. Have you?’
Minho nods and you see him close his translation app and switch over to his camera roll. His fingers quickly begin scrolling up through the countless amount of photos he has on his phone.
Not wanting to invade his privacy, you look away from his phone and out the doors in the vestibule once more. Not a single soul is walking– or running– along the sidewalks anymore.
Due to the power outage, there’s not even street lights illuminating in the puddles, it’s almost eerie looking. But, surprisingly, you don’t feel uneasy at all. Especially not with Minho sitting at your side.
Said man hums to get your attention, shuffling closer to you, and you look down at his phone. The picture is absolutely gorgeous.
It’s a photo of the beach, you’re assuming in Australia. The red sun is peeking above the horizon and painting the sky a beautiful wash of reds, pinks, and purples, all of the colors melting into one another. The clouds are wispy and glow in the morning sun.
The ocean seems so beautifully blue, even the foam at the crash of the waves is beautiful.
In front of the ocean is a gaggle of boys, it looks like there’s about seven of them. Each of them have bright, beautiful smiles on their faces reaching their eyes.
You’ve never been able to feel joy radiating from a photo like this, it seems to be contagious since you find a smile pulling at your own lips.
“This photo is beautiful,” you whisper, not taking your eyes off of it.
Minho hums, maybe he understood what you said. His thumb moves and he scrolls to the next picture where two of the boys have taken one of the others by his legs and arms and seem to be pretending to toss him into the surf.
A soft giggle comes from your lips and you find yourself leaning towards him a bit to get a better look at the photo. Truly, you didn’t even notice your shoulders brushing against each other, and by his lack of reaction, it seems Minho didn’t either.
“Friends?” you ask him in your choppy Korean.
Minho looks over at you, his face closer to you than before. His eyes widen a bit at your proximity, but he doesn’t back up at all.
“Family,” he corrects you in his soft English.
An even warmer feeling spreads through your chest and you look back down at the photo. They must be his band members, but they just look so much closer than that. It reminds you of all of your friends back home.
Before you can even think twice, you’re opening your own camera roll, scrolling through an endless sea of memories before finding one specific morning you woke up to go watch the sunrise on the beach.
A tiny, awe-struck noise comes from Minho when he looks down at it.
“Sunrise,” you say and then think for a moment. You’re not sure of the Korean you want to say. “Favorite… time.”
He’s so patient when you speak, it absolutely melts your heart. There’s a different air about his softness with you too. He’s not treating you like a child just learning how to speak, no, he’s just being… nice. He’s being sweet and genuine and it speaks volumes about his character.
“Sunrise,” he says in Korean.
“Sunrise,” you repeat, looking up at him. His eyes were already trained on your face by the time you looked up. A tiny dusting of pink covers your cheeks. How long has he been looking at you?
A happy smile spreads over his lips, the edges curl up playfully. He nods. “Sunrise. Sunrise.”
“Sunrise.” Your voice says softly once more before looking back down at your phone.
Swiping through a few more pictures, you show him the boardwalk that runs down the beaches by your house. Everything from shops, to amusement park rides, to lemonade and ice cream stands litter the entirety of the shore.
He points down at the ferris wheel and shakes his head. “No,” he says simply.
“No?” you ask with a laugh. “Why not?”
“No… no high,” he shakes his head and motions his hands around to emphasize his point.
“Best picture,” you giggle holding your hand up in the air to emphasize the height aspect, then you’re swiping to the next picture taken from the top of the ferris wheel. This time, it was sunset. “Sunset.”
“Sunset.” A pause. “My… My… favorite time.”
A soft hum bubbles up in your throat. He loves sunset whereas you love sunrise. How cute.
“Sunset is beautiful,” you say slowly. Your eyes are still on your phone when you swipe to another photo.
“Beautiful,” Minho whispers softly.
Humming, you nod. “Yes, beautiful.”
A soft puff of air comes out of his nose and fans out over your cheek. When did he get this close? You look up at him and almost bump his nose with yours.
Minho’s head flinches back a bit at your sudden movement, but he makes no move to get further away from you.
He sighs softly, his eyes flitting all over your face, taking in every one of your features. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.
Your eyes widen, that pink blush making its way back to your face. You can’t even help the tiny, giddy giggle that bubbles in your throat. You look down shyly, biting your bottom lip.
Tender, gentle fingers lift your chin back up. Truly, you didn’t notice how cold your skin was until his warm touch spread on your skin.
Is this really happening?
A shiver races down your spine and a soft shudder comes out of your lips. Minho’s eyes look down at your lips and then down at your arm where goosebumps begin to raise.
He pulls away gently, making your brows furrow. Did you do something wrong? Maybe you misread his–
He’s shrugging off his hoodie.
Oh, he thinks you're cold.
Before you can even think to tell him you’re okay, he’s pulling your shoulder forward a bit so he can drape it over your back, bundling you up in such a pleasant, soft warmth. With small, fussy movements, he’s closing the hoodie around your body.
Perhaps you didn’t even notice how cold you were until you were suddenly surrounded in a warmth that can be compared to the fuzziest blanket you own. Not to mention the absolutely delightful scent that wafts upwards into your nose from the fabric.
It’s such a clean, cozy, calming scent. It’s like you buried your nose into the Mahogany Teakwood candle at Bath and Body Works.
Your eyes stay trained on his face while he bundles you up tightly. His hands gently grab your arms and rub up and down a few times to create even more warmth.
“Better,” he murmurs, finally looking up to meet your eyes.
How is it that a stranger has wormed himself into your heart like this? His tender gaze makes your soul feel calm, like those pictures of the morning surf under the sunrise.
“Thank you,” you whisper back to him. Your hands come up to grab at the hoodie, curling into the fabric.
Minho smiles back at you, you can see how his smile grows as he watches you relax into his clothing. There’s no space between your shoulders as you rest against adjacent walls, your two bodies have melted into the corner.
There’s a clap of thunder outside, but neither of you move. Your feet shuffle on the floor as you bring your knees closer to your chest. His legs adjust around yours, feeding them under your bent knees and tangling your limbs up further.
It’s so hard to break Minho’s eye contact, but you do it slowly, looking down at your phone and opening up the translate app once more. His soft breathing hits your cheek with every exhale.
‘You’re too nice to a stranger.’
Minho hums, almost in agreement. He picks up his phone and types back.
‘I’m usually not.’
You read the statement and then look at him, your head cocked to the side. Your brows furrow in confusion, but he types more before you can even ask another question.
‘I don’t know why I feel drawn to you.’
The text looks right back at you. Your heart flutters in your chest and you know that your cheeks get redder and redder by the second. Still, you can’t contain the giddy laugh that makes its way past your lips.
You bite the inside of your cheek to try and hide the smile, but it only makes Minho smile wider. His hand slowly comes up towards your cheek. Right before he’s able to make contact, he stops, hovering over your skin and gazing into your eyes.
A silent question is asked through his eyes. It’s a language that you don’t need any sort of app for. An answer is communicated right back.
Soft, tender warmth spreads over your cheek, radiating all throughout your body in the most gentle glow. His thumb caresses over your cheek bone, swiping gentle strokes back and forth.
You feel the same as him, that’s the strange part. There’s something so alluring about him that you just can’t put your finger on it. He’s pulling you in like a magnet and you don’t even want to fight against it.
There’s so many words sitting on the tip of your tongue, but you know that each and every one of them would fall on deaf ears. Nothing that you can say in the moment would make sense to him.
Exhales are shared and mingled together in the minimal space between your faces,
“Beautiful,” he whispers for your ears only. Not like there’s anyone else to hear it except the ATM sitting dormant in the corner of the vestibule. Not even the mice in the walls would have been able to hear his murmur.
Love at first sight was something you always gawked and scoffed at. You always thought that it was such a Hallmark invention, that there was no way you would be able to just look at someone once and immediately fall head over heels for them.
But here you were, sitting on a dirty floor, feeling your heart beating faster and faster in your chest. Letting your face be cradled by a man you didn’t know two hours ago. By the man who patiently worked with you to communicate.
How is this even possible?
You can count on one hand the amount of things you know about one another.
Minho, who is a famous idol in Korea, who loves sunset and hates heights, who has the most expressive brown eyes you’ve ever seen.
Minho, who did whatever he could just to talk to you when he could have just as easily sat in silence on the other side of the vestibule.
His hand slowly drags down your cheek, each finger gliding down your skin towards your jawline to lift under your chin.
Another silent question passes through both of you in the one language you seem to both be fluent in.
Your eyes flick down to his lips and he hears you loud and clear.
Minho leans in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a featherlight touch. But, despite how soft the kiss is, heat spreads through your body in a grand wave, rushing through your fingertips and into your toes.
The first press is long and sweet, the two of you simply melting into the sensation of being locked together.
He pulls away only for a moment, his eyes gazing down at your lips before he swoops in again, this time his movements a bit quicker.
His hand returns to your cheek, guiding your head to tilt to the side to gain better access to your lips.
A soft sigh leaves your nose and your own hand travels up to grab at his shirt gently, just needing to hold onto him in any way possible.
Minho responds to your sigh, his lips moving a bit faster against yours. Both of your lips part and close, moving like mirror images of one another. Every few kisses, your noses brush against one another, but it doesn’t deter you from your actions at all.
Slowly, your hand travels from his shirt up to his neck, running up the side of his flushed skin. He feels feverish to the touch and it only spurs you on to keep moving. At the contact on his own body, Minho lets out a tiny grunt against your lips, his kisses stutter for a moment but he’s back to kissing you after just a moment.
Up, up, up, your hand travels over his moving jaw, to his cheek, then moving back to thread in his soft, brown trusses of hair. God, everything about him is just so perfect. It’s like you’re combing your fingers through the softest of cotton.
His kisses are getting deeper, little sighs come from both of your mouths as the passion continues on. Minho’s body turns towards yours a bit more, his knees canting up and almost forcing your legs onto his lap.
Tentatively, you feel his tongue poke out from between his lips, licking gently at your lower lip. You don’t even hesitate to give him access to your mouth. A gentle moan claws its way up your throat as his tongue licks into your mouth.
The hand on your cheek grips you a bit tighter, holding your face to his– as if you would want to try and move away from Minho and his addicting kisses.
“I just can’t help it,” he whispers in Korean against your spit, soaked lips before capturing them once more. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Y/N.”
All you catch is your name and it sends a shiver down your spine. You don’t even need to know what else he said, his tone says it all. The way it comes out in a breathy exhale is enough to send your mind reeling.
“Please,” you murmur into his mouth before he presses his lips to yours once more with the same amount of passion and need in his actions.
More and more rain hits the glass doors, becoming the only sound that can be heard in the room except for your shared exhales, pants, and breathy moans.
Slowly, the kisses begin to calm down. Minho pulls away for a moment to take a long breath. His thumb moves to brush against your lower lip like a butterfly landing on a flower.
His eyes open just a crack, gazing down at your mouth with a hazy look in his eye. As he slowly catches his breath, he presses his forehead against yours, his fingers brushing along the heated skin on your face.
“Forgive me, I didn’t do things in order,” he whispers. “I should’ve taken you out first.”
Your eyes open and you look at him in confusion. “Hm?”
His jaw clenches before he swallows and he takes another long moment to look over your face, his features soft and welcoming.
There’s some movement as his other hand blindly pats around his lap for his phone. He can’t physically tear himself away from you long enough to even look down.
Another tiny laugh comes from your lips.
Your fingers move out of his hair to come around and gently run over his features, brushing against his jawline, to then trace up to his lips and up the length of his nose, memorizing each and every detail.
Minho melts into your touch, his face moving closer to your touch, seeking you out.
His hand finally finds his phone and he grabs it blindly, flipping it around in his lap and tearing his gaze away from your face to glance down at it.
Thumbs are flying across the screen to type at his translate app. He’s typing so quickly on his phone that you can't help but laugh a bit.
Before he’s able to turn the phone around, there are a few sharp knocks against the glass of the vestibule. The two of you practically jump out of your skin and your heads whip over to the doors.
Red and blue lights are flashing outside and it looks like two police officers are standing outside, peering in at you both. They wave when they see they’ve caught your attention.
Minho looks at the police officers, then to you, then back to the officers, and then back to you once more. His mouth opens and closes a few times and he tries to form a few words but you’re untangling your limbs from one another.
In a moment, you’re both on your feet as the officers work on unlocking the doors from the outside.
Minho gently grabs at your arm and you look down where he’s touching and your heart sinks a little. His eyes look a little questioning and desperate.
“Oh,” you say sadly. You shrug off his jacket, and hand it back to him. Minho’s eyebrows pull together and his lips part. He looks down at the jacket and then up at you.
“No,” he says firmly.
“Are you two alright?” The police officer calls inside in Korean.
“We’re okay,” Minho responds without breaking eye contact with you. He puts a hand on his jacket still dangling over your arm and pushes it back towards you.
“Minho?” you ask, looking at him and then at the officer approaching you both.
“We apologize for the delay, but we knew you two were safe, so we had to prioritize,” the officer says.
You blink at him blankly for a moment before then looking back at Minho.
“She’s a foreigner,” he says to the officer, finally looking away from you. “She doesn’t know Korean.”
“Ah,” the officer responds. “My apologies. You can tell her that she’s free to go.” He nods at the two of you and motions towards the door. You take his hint and slowly begin follow him.
Once again, Minho tugs on your arm and you pause, turning around to look at him. He’s holding his phone up to your face with a pleading look in his eye.
‘Can I please buy you a drink?’
A wide smile spreads across your cheeks and you can’t deny the relief that you feel inside your chest. The moment your lips twitch upwards, Minho immediately mirrors it.
“Yes,” you respond. “I love to go.”
He chuckles at your choppy Korean once more before taking his jacket out of your hands and wrapping you inside it once more. This time, he grabs the hood and pulls it up over your head.
With a satisfied hum, he nods and laces your fingers together.
ONLY IF YOU SAY YES (Dionysus!Jake x Ariadne!fem!reader)
This ain't no phase
I promise I'ma be the one who stays
˚｡⋆‧ XO (Only if you say yes)
WC:2.1k
CW: fluff, being abandoned, betrayal, and I think that's it
Y/n had woken up a few hours after the sun rose to paint the earth canvas with its light, the same light that covered her skin like a cloak, the warmness of the sun heating her body after the abysmal coldness of the night had weakened the strength that she had left, she looked to the horizon, to the reflection of the sky over the see, how there was no longer a ship on the deck, how she had arrived accompanied to the island of Naxos, but now she was alone, there was no ship, no food, and of course, no Theseus.
Her eyes closed, her body still lying on the blanket Theseus decided to leave her with, his last act of mercy if it could have even been called that; in the silence of the day she had no other thing to than remembering, longing for her old live who now seemed so glorious compared to the vanity of her situation now, how only a week ago she was still a princess in Crete, how she was free, oh how she longed now for that liberty, she remembered how she had decided to help Theseus…out of the kindness of her heart
She remembered the palace the gardens that surrounded it, the labyrinth under it, which hid a minotaur, only the gods knew for how long that beast was roaming around, and King Minos of Crete, y/n’s father, in an attempt to protect his kingdom selected seven young men and seven young woman, who then were taken to the minotaur’s labyrinth, each and every year the tributes arrived to satiate the beast’s hunger and thus for maintaining the treaty between the kingdom of crete and the kingdom of Athens.
That was until Theseus decided to put the massacre to an end, hoping to become the hero the prophecies told of him had prepared him to be, he sailed with the other young men promising justice and vengeance to his land and that each and every young men and women would visit their families again.
It was time for the tributes to be seen and presented before King Minos, however the young y/n was accompanying her father, she had no interest in the politics and the sacrifices, however she couldn’t contradict her father, so she just watched and stood quietly along him, that was until her eyes were focused on the young Theseus…
That same night she arrived at the dungeons where the tributes were made to sleep and rest, she stood next to Theseus' cell and whispered for only him to listen
“I think it would be a waste for someone like you to die in here” she pronounced
“Oh, but if it’s the princess y/n herself, to what do I owe the pleasure?” answered Theseus, his voice filled with bittersweet discomfort.
“I will help you to escape the labyrinth” she whispered, taking a ball of yarn and a sword, “Here, you will use this yarn to make a path and this sword will allow you to kill the beast… I must confess I do this just because I don’t wish for my hands to have the blood my father has spilled”
“Or… you could just admit you fancy me, I saw how you eyed me up there” he said, a crooked smile on his face.
Her empathy was nearly reduced to an object of desire, and although she had thought of Theseus as a young handsome men, she wished for freedom more than she did for a lover but there was something in him that tried to proof her wrong, and the deafening silence spoke for itself, maybe y/n was in love after all.
Once Theseus had put and end to the minotaurs life he ran away along y/n to the island of Naxos, after betraying her country, she had become a runaway, yet the crown over her head still reminded her that she was Theseus queen… until he decided she wasn’t.
There she was, alone in Naxos, Theseus had what he wanted, freedom for his people and glory attributed to his name, because y/n had helped her in secret, no one would know the secret behind his great escape from the labyrinth.
She had no food to eat, no cloak to cover her from the night’s coldness, she was alone on her own, no kingdom, no lover, how could she bear living?
Her eyes opened again, the sun had set already, and in an attempt to eat she started to walk through the island, searching for something that could satiate her hunger.
“Who are you?” a voice spoke from behind the bushes, that made her turn around searching for the recipient of said voice.
“Who are you?” she answered, fear in her voice yet the sound was still firm.
Silence then a low chuckle, “You are quite a brave mortal to even dare to speak to me”
The young god stepped outside from his hidings, and now in front of y/n stood Jake, a cursed god, yet the less cruel of them, his body was astonishing and so was his face, a god of wine and festivities that had a face that could be worshiped, yet to his eyes the women in front of him was an enigma, beauty adorned her face contrasting the torn edges of her dress and her arms a product of the bushes and thorns that surrounded the area, the smirk drawn on his face turned to confusion, the same confusion that adorned on her face and pricked under her skin.
“Are you hurt?” he asked his voice turned to a soft almost melodious tone, “I’m Jake, I’m sorry if I scared you, don’t cry please”
The tears in her eyes weren’t teared for him, they belonged to Theseus as her old self, yet now she was in front of Jake, a god so delicate and kind because of his mortal mother, of how he had shared the feelings and sadness that humans felt as well, all of that hidden through the pleasures and theatricalities of his facade.
“You didn’t scare me, I’m just searching for something to eat, I haven’t eaten in so long”
“And why are tears in your eyes? if they are from hunger I can bring you something to eat, and something to change too… whatever you need I can give you that”
“I betrayed my country to save the life of the prince of Athens, we escaped from Crete because otherwise we would’ve been killed, I thought he liked me but then this morning he just abandoned me… his ship is gone and so is every trace of him”
Jake was cursed by Hera into madness, but not only that, his own mother was a mortal, so unlike the many gods that existed and wandered through the earth, he was far more compassionate and understanding of the human emotions and the complications that the same ones created, so when he heard about what had happened to the beautiful young women in front of her, he couldn’t feel anything else than sadness and pure anger.
“Well for being a prince he is such a prick” Jake scoffed after the princess had told him each and every piece of the story.
She looked at him for a second and chuckled, “Well he is a prince, aren’t all of them the same?”
“Well, they’re mortal…”
“You forget the fact I am mortal as well” she scoffed, playfully acting as if his words had hurt her, placing her left hand over her chest.
He got close to her, taking her hand and putting it to the side of her body, a genuine smile drew from his lips, “Of course darling, but you are you”
y/n blushed at the remark, and freed her hand from his hold.
“I stand by my offer”, Jake continued, “whatever you want I will give you, you can follow me, I can show you a place where you can stay for however long you wish, I’ll take care of you”
He offered her hand and for a brief moment y/n remembered Theseus and the empty promises he had made her, but this time when she held his hand it was all different, this time there was no risk no what-ifs, this time she knew it as clear as the water that surrounded her, she wouldn’t be left alone.
The days passed by and as promised, Jake had provided for her anything he desired, dressing his affect and love for the princess as mere chivalry, however she was smarter than that, she knew for a fact that there was something else than a deep bonding because of their circumstances, then the day arrived where in the midst of gazing at the stars at night she held her courage and decided to ask him.
“What’s it that’s going between us?”
“What do you mean darling?”
“I mean this, I don’t understand, is it pure kindness or chivalry? and if it is, then why do you keep looking at me with those eyes and smile at me with that damned beautiful smile… I think I’m in love with you, but then…”
She was in the middle of her ranting when she felt a pair of lips crashing into hers, inviting yet full of tenderness, Jake’s arms found her back and hugging her close, he separated from the kiss, now her head rested on the crook of his neck and his hands played with the strings of her hair
“I’ve loved you since I saw you for the first time in those bushes, you took quite a long time to decipher that… I thought I made myself obvious when I told you I would give you whatever you wished for” he whispered to her, kissing her forehead.
“Well, you should’ve specified… what if I told you I wanted to be a goddess?” She replied, hoping that her comment would take him off, instead just a small chuckle left her mouth.
“Then I would’ve given you ambrosia and made you a goddess, my goddess if that’s what you wanted, if you wanted to I would give you a whole constellation…”
“And what if I told you I wanted us to get married?”
“Just give me a date and we’ll make that happen”
she looked at him doe-eyed, she couldn’t even understand how she had gone from being a princess, to a runaway, to alone to herself again, and now she had the opportunity to be herself with Jake by her side, and now there she was, with him hugging her tight protecting her body with his whispering sweet nothings and “I love you”s every few seconds.
“I love you too” she whispered, which made him smile, then both of them fell asleep.
When the wedding day finally arrived the isle of Naxos was dressed in the most beautiful flowers and trees, the island couldn’t have looked greener than that day, when Jake and y/n stood in front of each other, vowing to love each other forever for the whole eternity, and this time it was meant to be.
“I do” he had said before kissing her again, as he had done many times before and would continue to do many times.
He took the tiara over her head in his hands, taking her by surprise for a second, until he tossed it to the sky where it became no longer visible, confussion lingered over but he assured her that once the night arrived she would understand.
The night arrived sooner that day, thanks to the desire that unraveled between the two young souls, and when y/n took a look over the darkness of cloak that covered the sky canvas, she could see something familiar.
“Is that my tiara in the sky?” she asked quietly, Jake's hands surrounding her.
“Now everyone will know of how much I love you, and when you forget about it too, you can look to the night sky and you'll see”
Life was kind to both of them, allowing them to leave happily with each other, with the pass of time Jake had turned y/n into a goddess, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to exist without her, the proof of their love remained written on the stars above and on the hearts and mouths of the people who told their tale, spreading the rumors of how a princess promised to be a queen became a goddess, and how value comes from the right set of eyes, because in Jake’s eyes, she was the most beautiful and deserving of everything.
summary: while on tour in the US, niki runs into you at a jewelry store, since he’s not the best with speaking english, he tries his hardest to ask you out with as many words as he knows, (and with the help of jake lol)
warnings: none!!
you walked into the jewelry shop on the way to your apartment in hopes to find a new necklace since the one you had on now was beginning to fall apart.
you walked inside, the cool ac of the store refreshing your hot skin, you walked over to the necklace section and began to scan the different necklaces on the shelves,
meanwhile, niki and jake were on the other side of the shop,
jake forced niki to come with him to go shopping for their last day in the US, they had one more show tonight then they were leaving tomorrow morning,
and they’ve been running around all over place, store to store, buying things left and right, but they were having fun,
but now niki was tired, but since jake was taking forever looking at rings from the display, niki groaned and checked the time on his phone, “bro.” he mumbled, jake looked up and chuckled, “5 mins!” jake held up 5 fingers, niki rolled his eyes and decided to walk around to pass time.
as he walked over to the other side of the store, his eyes was stopped on what he thought, was the prettiest girl he’s ever saw.
it was you.
you were standing with two different necklaces in your hands, eyes shifted back and forth on the both to see which one you’d pick. your hair laid perfectly and framed your face in all the right ways.
he truly thought you were beautiful,
obviously, he’s seen several different pretty girls, at concerts, interactions with fans, or even when he’s casually shopping,
but you.. he’s never seen someone so beautiful like you, doe brown eyes, and your outfit was so adorable to him.
he quickly looked away not to make anything awkward if you were to look up, jake then walked over to niki and tapped his shoulder , “why’d you walk off?” he asked, niki looked at jake, then back at you, his ears going all red
jake took the hint, nodding slowly with a smile, he nudged niki, basically telling him to go talk to you, niki shook his head, “my.. my english.. it’s not the best.” niki sighed,
he assumed you were american, or atleast really good at speaking english, since they were in the US and you’re here.
“what do you wanna say?” jake asked.
“uh..” niki rubbed his neck, then shrugged, jake chuckled, “say she’s pretty.. and ask for her number maybe?” jake says, “ask.. for her number?” niki raised and eyebrow, and jake nod. niki felt his palms sweating.
“so say.. ‘hey, you’re really pretty, could i have your number?’” jake says, niki listened to his words clearly,
“hey.. you are- pretty. can i have you—?” he tilt his head, “number.” jake finished, “can u have your number.” niki nods, jake nod as well, “yup! you got it. now go do it!” jake nudged niki, niki let out a breath as jake backed away to watch from afar.
niki cleared his throat and rubbed his palms on his jean jacket before stepping up to you slowly, your head lifted, eyes drifting away from the necklaces and to the handsome guy in front of you.
and you didn’t wanna stare too much, but you couldn’t stop looking at him. he was so beautiful.
his dark jet blue hair laid perfectly over his eyes, his moles all over his face, and his fashion sense, he was so handsome.
“hey..” he says quietly, holy shit was he about to ask you out?
“may i— no.. you’re really pretty..” he says, but he sounds unsure. you immediately could tell english wasn’t his first language, but you smiled at his desire to talk to you anyways.
“thank you.” you smile softly, and he smiled back, before chuckling and rubbing his neck, “can i— can i have your.. number..?” he cleared his throat, and your eyes widened.
you couldn’t believe someone so beautiful like him was asking YOU for your number. “oh.. yes! sure.” you nod, after realizing how long you left him on ‘delivered’.
niki nod and chuckled nervously again, stumbling to get his phone from his jean pocket and handing it to you,
you stared at the phone, ‘Enter Pin’
you giggled awkwardly and showed him he had to put his pin in first, “ah.. sorry.” he face palmed himself before quickly putting the pin in and going to the number dial.
you smiled at his cuteness before typing in your number, and saving your contact name as y/n. niki tried not to stare at you as you saved your contact, but you were so pretty, he stole little glances at you whenever you weren’t looking too much.
you then handed him back his phone, he looked at the screen, eyes drifting to see your name saved at the top of the chat,
“y/n..” he mumbled to himself, “pretty..” he smiled up at you, you felt your face heat up and looked away, “thank you.. what’s your name?” you ask.
“nishi- uh.. it’s niki.” he nods, you smiled, niki was such a nice name you thought, he then looked at the two necklaces you were holding up.
he then grabbed the one with a dark brown pendant, holding it up to your eyes, “it- it’s matching your.. your eyes.” he chuckled, his smile growing as his ears went red,
you covered your face as you giggled. he was cute.
“i’ll get this one then.” you nod and grabbed that necklace and put the other one back, he nod, “okay uh.. i’ll see— it was nice talking.. meeting? ah this is too hard.” he groaned and shut his eyes, you just giggled softly watching how determined he was to talk to you in english.
“it was nice meeting you.. y/n.” he nod and sucked in his lips, “nice meeting you too niki.” you shot him a smile before walking away to check out,
as soon as you walked away, niki rubbed his temples, he felt like he totally embarrassed himself but, deep down you thought he was so cute.
jake ran up, “how’d it go?” jake says, eyebrows raised.
“good.. i- think?” niki shrugged, jake chuckled and pat his shoulder, “you got her number atleast bro!” jake hyped him up, which made niki smiled.
he got a pretty girls phone number, and he was definitely gonna look forward to texting you after tonight’s show.
with the use of google translation of course..
a/n: hi guys!! i’m so so sorry for how inactive i’ve been, it’s been a while since i wrote anything so i hope this isn’t too bad :( if u have any more ideas for me to write, pls send me a request!
박성훈 ──── MILLION DOLLAR LOVE
◟ or, a collection of my rich boy hoon fics
note · there is no order for reading, all the entries can be read as standalone fics. there is no taglist, angsts will be marked with a ★ i don't take reqs, however suggestions for anything under this trope are much welcomed. happy reading !
spoiled rotten
◟ sunghoon is drunk and is trying to break into your room through the balcony.
secret never kept
◟ sunghoon likes getting detentions.
pretty face
◟ all the trouble sunghoon gets himself in lands him in your arms.
(𝓹airing) ── lhs x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓮xes to lovers ? ; idol au, angst, & fluff (𝔀ordcount) one thousand 𝓹eng's note. abrupt ending & not proofread oops 𝓫ookshelf
𝓼ynopsis. the idol life was what tore you and heeseung a part, but now you reside under the same label
lee heeseung is everywhere you go.
both of you are idols under companies under hybe. it’s not a rare occurrence to see your ex-boyfriend walking down the same halls, music shows award shows, flights, and every place imaginable.
it’s not unbeatable of course.
you are used to it, while it seems lee heeseung has erased you out of his memory.
acting normal, cordial, when you bump each each other in the elevator.
it’s like you never existed, like you never were a chapter in his life, but it’s not like you can do anything about it now.
THAT’S JUST THE WAY THINGS GO.
you dated heeseung for most of your teenage years.
as corny as it was, you thought he was the one and spend your whole lives together.
that you would end up marrying your first boyfriend.
you both shared the same dream, to become an idol. thus leading to the two of you auditioning for the same companies and picking one since you both got in.
heeseung and you practiced together in secret.
though he got ahead first, from nearly making it into txt and being picked for iland, heeseung was ready to debut.
on the other hand, you still had to wait a couple of years before hybe would consider debuting a girl group.
so you both agreed to break up in the midst of heeseung leaving to film the survival show.
it hurt, it did, but you spent all the remaining weeks together. a sort of final goodbye dragged out as the both of you didn’t want to let go of your relationship just yet.
it was a weird limbo stage.
the handful of friends who knew of your relationship were informed you two had parted ways while you two stayed glued to the hip in secret.
the morning of your last day with heeseung, you cried in his bathroom while he was still asleep.
you tried not to wake him and let him see you in such a state but he heard you. sliding down on his floor to take you into his arms as you cried.
neither of you talked during your last day together. some whispers of one-word replies every couple of hours but most of the time was solely about being close to the other. basking in each other's touch and presence for one final time.
you knew everything would be different after this survival show.
lee heeseung had everything, he was perfect, he was debut-ready. there was not a single doubt that he wouldn’t win the show and become a beloved idol.
even if there was a sliver of a chance he’d lose, his public debut even as a trainee would garner a fanbase waiting for his debut at another time.
when heeseung inevitably placed fifth overall you were watching in your room. a bittersweet feeling washing over you when you remember this means that it was the official end of you and heeseung. your chapter in his life coming to a close.
the last time heeseung contacts you was two days after the finale of iland aired.
a simple, text wishing you debut soon, that he is going to cut contact due to his dating ban, and needing to focus on his career.
you want to hate heeseung.
to yell at him over the phone and scream in his face about how he can’t just leave you behind like that. say that he can’t just forget about you after everything you’ve been through together.
but the other part of you wants to hope. to beg for him back. whether it meant in the future when you hopefully make your debut and he’s in the clear to date or secretly dating now.
alas, you congratulate him and say only time will tell.
THERE’S SO MUCH LEFT TO SAY, I GUESS I’M JUST THE BIGGER GUY.
now three years past you’ve debuted and are thriving as one of hybe’s newest girl groups.
gaining in popularity with the latest release of your group's first full-length studio album.
which comes with the hectic schedules of filming music shows, variety shows, collaborations tiktoks, and more.
unfortunately or fortunately, enhypen just so happened to have a comeback at the same time. even promoting at the same music show on the same day.
when your manager told you that you were set to make a video with an enhypen member you felt sick. there was a one in seven chance it would be heeseung.
though you had no say whether or not you did it.
nobody knew of you and heeseung’s past and it was planned to stay that way.
as you walked up to the shooting spot the air in your lungs slowly disappeared. nearly choking when you saw heeseung standing there watching your group's dance as he went over it in his head.
“hey,” heeseung whispered shyly when you quietly stood next to him.
you offer him a bow, as he was now your senior, not the boy you spent years loving.
it’s too quiet when you finish filming the tiktok challenge. rewatching it with heeseung after taking one final shot and bowing goodbye.
though after you notice the camera for both of your groups' behinds stop rolling and your manager doesn’t whisk you away just yet.
the amount of staff slowly disappears and you are about to follow after when you feel a grip on your wrist.
tugging you back towards himself, heeseung wraps his arms around your waist and holds you close.
“heeseung?” you question, words coming out airy.
“____,” he whispers, nuzzling his head into your hair, “i missed you.”
“you’re going to get us in trouble,” you mutter, though truthfully you just want to melt into his embrace.
“it’s okay,” heeseung’s grip loosens, only to spin you around in his hold. he looks down at your confused face, “i asked for some privacy with you.”
“why?” you whisper, his mere touch after years of yearning making goosebumps arise on your skin.
“i miss you a lot,” his arm rests around your waist. the other cradles your head and pushes it to rest on his chest, “please, i’m finally able to try us again.”
“i’m still on dating ban,” you frown, finally surrendering and hugging your ex-boyfriend back.
“i talked to your manager,” heeseung holds you tightly, “i took care of everything. please give me a chance again.”
it might be three years later, but for you, lee heeseung can wait thousands of years.
Synopsis: relentless schedule and physical distance from his girlfriend has already strained his nerves. But when Ni-ki finally reunites with you after a long month, he is met with useless nagging instead of affection, pushing him over the edge. The harsh words he utters in the heat of the moment may cause severe consequences.
Or
where a childish argument sparks up your silent treatment and a clingy—jealous ni-ki will do anything for your forgiveness.
idol niki x culinary student y/n
The room, seemingly more like the inside of a coffin, dwells in darkness and reeks of ancient pizza, boxes scattered on the dust-covered floor as evidence. You can barely walk without stepping against something grimy and viscous trickling down your bare feet as if protesting against your invasion.
It’s not like you want to proceed inside this filthy den where the air is thick with the stench of rotting food but unfortunate for you, you happen to have a boyfriend who lives in this atrocious environment. Your eyes catch the faint light of his small device in the bleak darkness, and you sigh in frustration as you finally manage to make it to his bed after dodging lumps of dirt, food and empty cola bottles.
He’s rolled over on his stomach with his back to you, a Nintendo switch in his grasp as he’s fully immersed in the game, vigorously pressing his thumb on the buttons.
Your heart almost softens at the sight, but you’re soon reminded of your surroundings as you feel the wetness pooling at the edge of his bed. Your fists clench in frustration, and you reach out to grab his blanket, flinging it off.
Brows knitting up, he turns, preparing to spew insults, assuming Jake has returned to steal more of his clothes. His jaw clenches shut, eyes widening in disbelief as he sees beautiful eyes blink down at him. He almost knocks himself off the bed, blinking in a daze. His lips curve up, a familiar warmth grazing his previously scowling expression.
“Baby?” Ni-ki rasps. Contrasting from his sharp gaze, his gentle tone which he only uses to address you, sparks butterflies in your stomach.
He doesn’t notice the scowl contorting your features— maybe too excited about seeing you after a distraught month as he sits up on his knees and yanks you down in his arms. Your chest tingles at the familiar warmth as his scent washes over you.
Despite the absolute disaster of a room, Ni-ki smells of soap and faint cologne, his damp hair brushing against your cheeks as he holds you tight against his chest. You know he only applies hygienic efforts to himself and not his surroundings.
You want to melt into his embrace and cling to his frame, but the surrounding wreckage snaps you out of it. You push at his shoulders, forcing him away to stand upright.
Now, even the darkness doesn’t hide the absolute disappointment written across your features as you stare down at him. “I come to see you, thinking, finally, I’ll spend one free night with my boyfriend watching a movie, but you’re here snacking and playing video games,” you pointedly accuse, your gaze narrowed in anger.
Ni-ki winces, used to your gentle and sweet tone. Uncomfortable, he straightens up, and you hear his scapula release a crack as if crying in relief. Your anger flares up more at the sound.
“Have you hibernated since the tour? Jungwon and Sunoo said they haven’t even seen you in days and they literally live here.” You fold your arms over your chest, aggravated.
Ni-ki breathes harder through his nose as he stands up, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. Yellow streaks gleam in the brown moss of hair, his gaze running over your face in silence. He hasn’t seen you in weeks, and the urge to drown you in hugs and kisses overrides your infuriated words.
“I missed you— come’re.” He tries to tug you close, but you block his embrace, turning away and trudging through the mess to flicker the lights on.
The abrupt flash of fluorescents makes Ni-ki squint, his lips pressing together and jaw tightening. You settle your eyes on Ni-ki.
Dressed in a grey hoodie and sweatpants, he appears incredibly frail and thin, jawline contorting as he watches you with narrowed eyes. You can’t help but grimace as you notice the eye bags weighing down his face.
Your gaze softens. He looks unhealthily thin and pale. Suddenly, you want to cook him his favourite yakitori, rice, miso soup and teriyaki sashimi.
Truthfully, you loved cooking for your boyfriend. Despite being tired after training, you always made sure to feed him since he called it the best Japanese cuisine, sprinkling in a ‘better than my mother but don’t tell her’ which always made you laugh.
As soon as his vision accommodates, he feels his heart stutter. You’re a sight for sore eyes, bangs falling against your fluttering lashes, plump lips downturned, and brows arched pointedly. Even when you’re irritated, you’re the prettiest.
Ni-ki begins to approach you, making sure to steer clear of the cans of energy drinks loitering on the floor.
“Stay where you are,” you huff as your gaze roams the expanse.
Now, you can clearly see the pizza boxes, tissues and ketchup packs scattered on the floor; clothes and baseball caps that should’ve been in the laundry basket ages ago balled up in the corner of his room; PlayStation wires hanging down the television trailing across the centre, looping over the listless cola bottles.
“Ni-ki, this room is a disaster. Clean it up,” you command, your voice firm and unwavering.
His smile falters, fists clenching as he feels fury bubble up his throat.
After getting done with the hectic tour, Enhypen is finally awarded a break from activities— a two-week long break before he is pulled back into long practice sessions which last till night passes into dawn, till his muscles cry out in torment, till his body craves nothing but the softness of your curves. But of course, you had a job— much like him, and despite his desire to get you to himself, he knows you are a social butterfly, and your heart belongs in the culinary world. He hates this capitalist society and despises your company and his own for overworking you both.
Late-night calls and once-a-week encounters are his only getaway from the draining schedule.
But even these once-a-week encounters when he can recharge are now infected with your anger.
“Can’t you at least greet me with a kiss like a nice girlfriend before turning into my mother?” He snaps, glaring daggers as he watches you grab a few of his jackets from the floor to fold.
You roll your eyes, leaning down to pick up more of his clothes, folding them keenly before setting them on the edge of his bedding.
“I’m heading out to cook. Clean this place up,” you ignore his tantrums, speaking firmly before shifting away to leave.
As he watches you turn away, he feels his blood pressure rise, head pounding in disbelief at the sheer audacity of your actions.
You come to him after what seems like forever, and still, your love for him is less than your love for the arts. He’s certain even if you reunited with him after years, you’d prioritise your passions and leave him to master some fucking expensive caviar recipe you learned from a Russian chef in culinary school.
“Y/N, get back here right now,” he speaks through gritted teeth, and you pause in your tracks, taken aback by the sudden bitterness.
Chest heaving, he approaches you, heat pumping through his pale skin, painting his face red.
Closer than ever, he towers over you, making you feel so small. His eyes are narrower, sharp as a blade, cutting through you as he stares down. For a moment, you think he’ll knock you to the ground, but you see him shake his head, waves of fury coursing through his frame.
“Do you ever fucking miss me?” He utters with so much venom that he shakes with the bitterness of it.
You wince. Your lips part in horror. You want to say something, but the words have dissolved on your tongue.
He waits for a moment and then cracks a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes, running fingers through his strands in a frenzy. “Of course, you don’t. Ten days or ten months, why would you care?” He sarcastically rasps. His words reverberate against the walls and slice through you.
Pure rage fuels through your veins, and you edge closer. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I finished up all my training to hurry to you, but I see you holed up in this stinky dorm room playing video games—” You choke up.
“Don’t show up then!” He shrieks with resolution, eyes widening purposefully. He turns away and kicks at the pile of bottles blocking his path, unleashing his wrath on the inanimate objects. “Get out! Leave me to rot in this stinky dorm!”
The room immediately goes eerily silent.
Except Ni-ki hears the shill thumping of a pulse above his ear, indicating an incoming migraine. His body feels like it’ll burst with how tumultuously the anger and frustration bubble inside his blood. He can feel the heat shoot through his arteries and collect at the back of his pupils. Distressed, he shuts his eyes and rubs a hand down his face as the ache begins to pound within his entire head.
And then, the walls mock him, reverberating the words spewed out of his mouth just a second ago. Like someone’s toppled a bucket of ice over his head, his breath hitches with realisation. He whips around, intending to fall to his knees and kiss your feet for forgiveness.
His jaw tightens.
He meets your absence.
In a fit of rage, he didn’t see your face crumble, lips tremble; he didn’t hear the sniffle and shuffling as you walked out— away from him.
He can count the times he’s unleashed his anger upon you on a single hand. Usually, he holds back, knowing that whatever was to come out in a fit of rage was absolute bullshit.
“Don’t show up then!”
“Get out! Leave me to rot in this stinky dorm!”
He groans, fisting his hair in disbelief. How dare he use such words towards you? Ni-ki fumes and curses himself. He begins to frantically pace when he stumbles against the empty boxes and cans piling up. Suddenly, he feels the urge to throw himself off the Han River.
Of fucking course, you’re right.
It looks like a bunch of apes ransacked his room, dirt and clothes scattered with food and soft drinks spilt on the grimy floor. This isn’t liveable. How did he spend weeks cooped up in this nightmare— he’ll never know.
Ni-ki determinedly leans over and collects the clothing items, hanging his jackets on the rack while folding his shirts and jerseys to keep in a neat pile. He grabs a pack of tissues, dampens them from the bathroom sink and uses it to scrub off the dried juices from the floor.
While gathering the pizza boxes and tissues, he discovers Jake’s long-lost tie under his bed. He grabs the vacuum cleaner from his storage closet, plugs it in and runs it over the remaining crumbs and dust. The machine’s groaning only further riles up his migraine, pinching the nerves in torment; however, Ni-ki is determined to make this place spotless— worthy of your presence.
Two heads poke out from behind the door, lured by the blaring sounds of the machine. Sunoo’s eyes widen, and Jake’s jaw drops at the sight.
“Do you see what I see?” Jake whispers, scared the fantasy would shatter if he spoke any louder, staring in a daze, watching as the younger boy lay on his stomach to push the vacuum under the bed till it scraped the other end.
“Nishimura Ri-ki cleaning? I see it,” Sunoo confirms, blinking rapidly.
“Hell, this must be the end of the world,” another surprised voice joins the duo, and Jake and Sunoo look up, confused at the third intrusion. Heeseung stands towering behind Sunoo’s head, peaking inside with wonder.
Ni-ki simply ignores them, extra concerned with scrubbing the place clean to quickly find his way to you. Gradually, the lair becomes a civilised room with breathable air. Ni-ki lights up your favourite vanilla-scented candles and inhales deeply, observing the expanse.
Primarily, his room was pretty sleek with a tenebrous elegancy, grey curtains, light-toned carpet and a chic black couch custom-made from Japan, all chosen to his liking. The side table carries some figurines and a pile of his favourite manga collections. In the second drawer, he likes to store hair ties, skincare products, and plushies so he can convince you to have a sleepover every time you visit. Even his wardrobe lingers with your presence. Once, when Ni-ki caught Jake wearing a hoodie that still smelled of you, he pounced on him and ripped it off the petrified Australian. From then on, Ni-ki forbade any member from touching his things. For extra precaution, he still separated specific items you liked, sparing a section to all his hoodies you wore.
Ni-ki runs a hand over his messy hair, patting down his pants and hoodie for any dust before heading out of his room.
The hallway is now perturbingly empty, and the adjacent doors to his room are shut. Ni-ki hastens inside Sunoo’s room, usually finding you seated and binging shows. Instead, he discovers Sunoo on his PC, watching some romantic anime. He dashes off and checks Jake and Heeseung’s room, but you’re nowhere to be found.
A surge of panic courses through him, thinking you’ve really left. He hastens down the hallway, stopping to check the guest bathroom (also empty) and dashing down the stairs.
As he hurries down the last step, his frantic gaze roams the expanse before pausing at the open kitchen. He freezes, his foot hanging over the previous step. His heart swells with relief.
Thank fuck, you’re exactly where you belong—right before his eyes.
With denim sleeves rolled up and hair clipped in a messy bun, you’re immersed in stirring the pot, looking absolutely ethereal in your element. Ni-ki’s breath stutters as he admires you in your own little world.
When you stepped into a kitchen, no amount of distractions could shift your focus. It was one of the things he loved about you: putting a little of your heart into everything you do. But it was also something he disliked about you. If everything in the world takes a little of your heart, what’s left for him?
He gulps down the burning sensation, reminding himself of his earlier stupidity. He kicked you out of his room.
God, he wants to smack himself so badly.
Carefully, Ni-ki takes calculated steps towards the kitchen. And like he predicts, you don’t notice, too consumed by whatever was in the pan. He sneaks up from behind and stands beside you, purposefully brushing his shoulder with yours to make you wary of his presence.
You freeze and spare him a glance. And then he notices the immediate grimace and frown weighing down your beautiful face. His heart drops further into his stomach as you look away, attending to your recipe.
He nibbles on his lower lip. He suddenly feels nervous. His palms itch, and his chest tightens with discomfort. His gaze lingers on your face, yearning for your attention. He internally begs for you to speak— shout— maybe even curse him out. You don’t do any such thing.
Instead, you wash the rice and toss some diced green vegetables in the pan with chicken bits, stir-frying it together. He leans forward, sniffing the steaming chicken, gulping down the tightness in his throat.
He finds his voice. “Teriyaki stir fry— for me?” He tries to sound optimistic, but his voice is weak with tension. His pretence is crystal clear.
Silence. Pin drop- deafening silence. It’s supposed to be good for his migraine, but your silence just makes the throbbing sensation concentrate even more, so much so that he feels a gruesome pain stir up in his neck.
His frustration mounts as he sees you turn away to wash the dirty dishes in the sink.
The silence begins to kill him. Agitated, he grabs at your shoulders, whirling you in his arms. You gasp as your palms flatten against his chest to steady yourself.
You glance up with wide eyes, and his gaze immediately softens. “Say something,” he urges, browns of his eyes drained with yearning.
His touch on your arms sends pleasurable ripples down your body, but you don’t make it known. Instead, you offer him a cold, obstinate expression, your mouth sealed shut in stubborn rage.
He feels pathetic as you look at him with steely eyes before pushing away and returning to wash the dishes. His gaze narrows in frustration. His fists tighten as a horrifying thought plagues his mind: the thought that you’ll give him the silent treatment till his last day in Korea, and he has to fly out before he gets to fix this.
Just the thought of leaving you makes him lose it.
Distressed, he bites his lip and fists his hair.
Think. Think. Think.
He spots the searing chicken, and suddenly, everything plays out before him. He envisions you coming to him with the food. You’ll have to talk to him when you give him his lunch.
He restrains a smile and waits for you to get done, arms folded over his chest as he leans against the kitchen counter, watching you intently.
Soon, you return to the stove and empty the pan on a clean plate. You scoop the rice from the cooker and serve it with sophisticated chef-like precision. You have a knack for presenting any dish—even something as simple as instant ramen—as if it belongs in a Michelin-star restaurant.
His mouth waters as he stares at the heat simmer. He can already taste the juices in his mouth. And then he patiently waits.
Your gaze roams the living room as you hold up the tray. His bashful smile widens as you approach him.
And then both his smile and heart drop when you walk past him towards the hallway— in the complete opposite fucking direction to his room. His jaw tightens as he rushes behind like a lost puppy, his confusion mounting as he sees you approach another room—Jungwon’s room.
The door is answered immediately as if he had been awaiting your arrival.
Jungwon’s smile widens, shaking the bangs out of his sight, his dimple peaking out charmingly. “I told you this wasn’t necessary, Y/N,” he chimes, but he stares at the scrumptious platter, licking his lips in excitement.
As you walked out of Ni-ki’s dorm, wiping tears from your eyes, you bumped heads with Jungwon, who instantly noticed how upset you appeared. He knew you were the most in your element whenever you cooked, so he brought up how badly he craved your stir fry. And that was all it took for you to work your magic.
God, Ni-ki was so lucky.
If Jungwon had a girlfriend as caring and talented in the kitchen, he’d probably lose his mind and devour everything you cooked like a ravenous beast.
“You said you were hungry, so I thought I’d cook you your favourite.” You give him an adorable smile, handing him the warm tray.
“Thank you, our lovely master chef!” Jungwon compliments, and you giggle softly at the nickname.
The sound makes Ni-ki sick. Your breathtaking smile directed towards someone who isn’t him makes him nauseous. The plate carrying flavours you created for someone else to devour makes him burn with resentment. The food that took so much effort to make intended for another member and not your fucking boyfriend makes Ni-ki violent. He’s never hated the sight of your food before today.
As you walk away, ignoring his presence, he hears a dull ringing in his ear. The bubbling frustration and anger have started to take a toll on his body.
It was questionable how ten hours of practice, sleepless nights and continuous shows didn’t make him this ill. But you have the power to bring him to his knees.
Jungwon notices Ni-ki standing motionless by the wall and meets his eyes with confusion.
Worst fucking mistake ever.
Predatory eyes, murderous—poisoning black holes stare him down. It doesn’t help that Ni-ki’s taller, and Jungwon shrinks, his mouth drying up in voiceless horror. Ni-ki steps forward, and Jungwon gulps, suddenly forgetting that he’s older.
Ni-ki grabs the chicken and stuffs it in his mouth. The threatening glare is enough for Jungwon to shut his mouth before Ni-ki marches away.
When Jungwon recovers, he notices only bits of capsicum and onion with plain rice remain.
Fucking Nishimura Ri-ki downed all the steaming chicken in one bite.
Jungwon withholds a groan and slams his door shut.
Meanwhile, you’re back in the living room, answering a phone call from a friend, fretting over the recent assignment. While you’re explaining it to her, you notice a towering presence behind you, his familiar cologne invading your senses even before you can turn to inspect the intrusion.
You ignore his presence, clarifying the assignment’s nuances. You assume he’ll tire out and leave to his room— the one he kicked you out of— eventually, but your breath gets caught in your throat when he grabs your wrist, jerking you close.
Your words morph into a screech of horror as Ni-ki effortlessly hoists you up on his shoulder. You’re upside down, screaming and throwing a tantrum as the phone escapes your grasp, a shrill scream of defiance leaving your mouth. You try kicking him, but he takes determined steps towards the hallway.
In a frantic haze, you catch sight of Sunoo and Jake standing in their doorway, peering to inspect the commotion. You scream for help, and for a second, you think Sunoo’s about to jump in to save your ass, but as if he’s seen a ghost— he freezes in his tracks. His fearful gaze lingers on Ni-ki, and he edges back inside, offering you nothing but an empathetic smile.
You want to curse the cowards out, but by the time you find your voice, you’re already inside Ni-ki’s room, and he’s locked the door shut. He takes you to his bed, then gently sits you on the bedding.
With your blood boiling, you can’t even meet his eyes. You attempt to reach the door, but he clenches your wrist and pulls you back. Consumed by violent rage, you punch his chest.
He takes it—without even a change to his breathing and remains blocking your path like a wall.
One. Two.
Three. Four.
By the fifth one, your fist hurts. You look up in distress.
Finally. He breathes.
You finally spare him a glance.
He feels the burden on his chest lighten, his tense frame easing as you finally spare him your complete attention— unfavourable attention but better than feeling like the discrete air that passes by.
“Give me any bruise you want, curse me out— I beg you, just don’t do this to me,” he’s stuttering, his voice low and brittle as he tries to suppress his fears.
Whenever Ni-ki sulks, his small eyes go round, and his lips pucker unintentionally. You almost falter at the sight, but his earlier words itch your insides, and you rip your wrist from his grasp in resentment.
“I would rather be anywhere else than in your fucking room.” He winces at the cruel tone, his eyes flashing with hurt as you attempt to walk off. Panic-stricken, he pushes down on your shoulders until you’re dropping onto the sheets.
Immediately, he drops to his knees and grabs your hand, pressing his lips to the back in soft kisses.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers, and you feel his lips quiver against your skin. He trails kisses around until he’s peppering them in your palms.
“I’m a fucking moron— I’m sorry,” he chokes up and presses his entire face inside the warmth of your hands. You feel dampness.
Your heart throbs in torment.
“This is your room before it’s mine,” he mumbles and kisses your palms repeatedly. “You were just being your caring self—helping me get my shit together. I— I missed you so badly this month. I haven’t stopped thinking of you since the day I left,” his voice cracks.
Unknowingly, you’re also crying. You realise when wetness trails down your cheeks, and you tremble as emotions overwhelm you.
You lean down and caress his hair. “I missed you too, Riki.”
He feels a tug in his heart when you call him his real name, his chest suddenly tightening as he recalls just how terribly he missed you. And then how awfully he treated you.
He looks up with watery eyes, hair falling against his vision, and his insides shrivel in defeat. He hates your tears. Realising he’s made you cry over his stupidity, he wants to throw himself off the roof. A burning ache pools within his chest.
He releases a groan, wiping at your tears persistently.
“I’m sorry too,” you cry, and he wishes he could really burn himself alive.
“Why the fuck are you apologising?” His eyes burn with restrained anger.
He wishes you’d scold him and call it a day like any normal fucking girlfriend. But you’re his girl, insanely warm and disgustingly understanding—to him, always.
“I know I should’ve wrapped you in my arms before lashing out about how dirty the room is,” you admit, your lips pressing together with guilt. He’s watching you with confused anger as if he wants to refuse everything that escapes your mouth, but you eagerly complete your words.
“I just hate how badly overworked you are. I hate not seeing you for months. And I hate how you can’t be a normal nineteen-year-old like me. I know you aren’t some careless guy throwing a tantrum. You’re struggling to breathe in this rigorous world of stardom where one slip-up means the end of your career, where you cannot be anything less than perfect.”
As you talk about his struggles, he feels a tighter knot begin to clog his throat. Discomfort ceases his chest, and his eyes burn. His chest heaves with unspent tension.
You sniff and wipe at your cheeks. “And I guess walking into this room reminded me of your struggles. And then, I noticed how thin you’ve become— and wanted to cook you some—”
He gets off his knees, pouncing on top of you, his mouth clashing against yours in a passionate kiss. You tumble back with his body pressing down in desperate urgency.
Your breath is caught in your throat, lips frantically trying to match his intensity. His kiss dries your mouth; it’s so demanding and urgent like he’s getting to breathe air after ages. His tongue invades and intertwines with yours, sucking vehemently on your tongue for your taste. You’re a moaning, panting mess as his hands hold down your waist. He squeezes you in his hold, pushing his tongue deeper into your mouth like a depraved man.
You push at his neck defeatedly once you feel oxygen run out. He groans into your mouth, indicating his displeasure, but relents when your nails dig into his neck, forming painful crescents.
His face hovers over yours, heavy breath lingering against your gasping mouth. Impatiently, he stares into your eyes like he wants to transfer some of his energy and resilience to your body so you can let him kiss you however badly he wants. Magically, even his migraine has started to dispel— and his chest feels lighter. He also wants to smile and laugh like a lunatic and kiss you till your mouth bleeds.
The tension in your frame thickens as he rubs his nose against yours, still eyeing your heaving, flushed frame in yearning.
Warmth colours your cheeks, dried tears blinking along your lashes. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He drags his nose against your cheek and drops a noisy kiss on the corner of your mouth.
“But whatever it is, it doesn’t excuse feeding hyung before me.”
You’re confused and ready to argue, but he’s already latched his mouth onto yours, attempting to make up for all the past time. After all, he still needs to put his hands everywhere and remind you of his touch, sulk because you cooked for Jungwon, plead for ramen with tofu to stuff himself full, convince you to sleep over and feed him all night.
synopsis: in which y/n gets a surprise at her family reunion
genre(s): fluff, smau oneshot (maybe), this was made on a whim so it’s really just silly vibes
cast: enhypen, skz I.N, aespa’s karina, riize anton
warnings: dark humor (kys jokes), cursing, might have missed something so just let me know if I did !
coco’s ♥︎ note: I’ve had this idea for so LONG now and after months of writers block/just not feeling the best overall I’ve finally been able to get myself to make it a real thing! I’m not sure how far I’ll go with this idea but please let me know how you like it !
coco’s ♥︎ note (x2): I’m going to post this then go to bed so I’m praying people like it 😭 and when I wake up I’ll be back here to talk about enhypen’s new album !
