I just wanted to come on here to send love to all writers/authors (since I’ve seen such a toxic environment in the writing community this past year, esp in the enha fanfic community)
…just wanted to say my voice may be small but I’m so grateful for your works and everything you put on this platform … and that your works have made me happy as I get excited to read whatever new fic has been uploaded after a long hard day🤍
thank you for taking time out of your day to respond to asks that people ask….
thank you for taking time in uploading stories (even when you all have your own personal lives) …
thank you for your service (genuinely) and even sticking around when there’s people who are either mean to you/your friends on this platform …..
thank you for making me (and others !) smile and giggle as I/(we) read your works 🤍
thank you for being so passionate about a fandom that you pour your all into these fics 🤍
thank you for coming up with wonderful ideas 🤍
thank you from the bottom of my heart and I send love to each and every one of you and I hope that you all know that you always have people who are there for you!
with much much much much much much love and hugs 💗
-pixie
just wanna tag some authors of fics I’ve read recently (to show them love and support but this message goes to everyone): @jakesimfromstatefarm @jongst4r @siyalogue @nephynes @si3rren @jaysbaefie @babeyun @gyuuberryy @leejenowrld @starryjake @elikajinnie @heejamas @arlyxn @mssishipi @thatfeelinwhenyou @swiftjay23 @paarksunghoon @heesmiles @heesdreamer @liuhsng @dazzlingjaeyun @simpjaes @m-hypen @intromortal @hoonstrology @en-ternity @sundives @angelicbyhoon @cherry-lala @kikidoul @cutehoons02 @0210sjy @jaylaxies @junsfriend @fatalhee @hoonkitti @tobiosbbyghorl @romancentold @brokenengene
p.s. to all you haters sending hateful words anonymously… I hope you know that there’s people behind these screens with actual feelings and that words can hurt very much……
This isn’t just about anon asks and sending hate to authors but in general plz think about what you’re going to say first and think “would I like it if someone told me this?” If the answer is no then you shouldn’t be saying those hurtful things in the first place…
SYNOPSIS⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀starting college in a new city, you’re settling into your apartment and trying to make it feel like home. on your first day, a fluffy calico cat appears on your neighbor's balcony, jumping towards yours as if to greet you, stealing your heart instantly. but when a voice calls out for the cat from the next balcony, panic sets in—you rush back inside, too shy to meet your new neighbor. that neighbor turns out to be yang jungwon, a fellow student in the same university who’s also new in town. thanks to his mischievous and adventurous cat, the two of you keep running into each other in the most unexpected ways. a friendship blossoms, slowly turning into something deeper—though jungwon keeps insisting it’s nothing more than friendship. as feelings grow stronger, the question remains: will their bond turn into something more—or remain just a college memory?
⠀
⠀
pairing⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀college student!yang jungwon x college student!f.reader.
featuring⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀all enhypen members (soon), le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon (soon), aespa winter and karina (soon).
word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀2.241k
genre⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, kinda slow burn, college life, university life, slice of life, comedy (although i don't find myself funny), friendships, relationships, and the cat distribution system. (it has chosen you and gave you two lovely cats.)
warnings⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀drinking alcohol, parties, getting drunk (obviously), misunderstandings, jealousy, denial (jungwon is in denial), lots of flirting and tension, cat keeps breaking into your apartment, kissing, skinship, reader (aka us) is very delusional and does a lot of overthinking, a bit cringe (i think it's cringe bcs i wrote it), and might contain suggestive content in the later parts that are yet to be posted. lowercase letters intended. very proofread. tell me if i'm missing anything.
mæw's notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀hi guys, this will be my very first enhypen au / fanfic here in tumblr. i will be cutting this fanfic in multiple parts instead of posting it all at once because it already has a word count of 40k.
i am still new to this so i will surely make mistakes. please be patient with me and i hope you guys enjoy my work. this story will be added to my masterlist.
also, don't even try copy-pasting my work into an ai detection website, because i already tried it and it still said that parts of it was written by ai, even though i literally wrote it on my phone in front of my cousin.
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.
⠀
library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part two.
⠀
“are you completely certain you have everything, sweetheart?” your mother asks for what feels like the hundredth time, her voice tinged with both worry and affection. you can’t help but chuckle softly, rolling your eyes in fond exasperation as you roll two suitcases out through the front door.
behind you, she follows closely, reciting the list of college essentials she helped you pack, while your father lingers not far behind.
“mom, for the tenth time—literally—you packed with me. you know i’ve got everything,” you reply, turning to face her. she frowns slightly, reluctantly folding her list and slipping it into her pocket.
she reaches for your hands and clasps them tightly, as though letting go meant letting you go forever. “i’m sorry, sweetie. i just can’t help but worry. i’m going to miss you so much,” she says, her eyes already glistening with unshed tears.
you felt your heart ache as you pulled her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her as tight as you can. “oh, mom...” you murmured, voice muffled in her hair, “i’m going to miss you, too. and dad. and everyone. but this isn’t goodbye forever, okay? it’s just college—four years, tops. i’ll be back before you even realize i’m gone.” you reassured her while smiling.
“is it my turn now?” came your dad’s voice from behind, cutting through the moment with the kind of comedic timing only he had. you turned to him, confused.
“yes, honey, go ahead,” your mother says with a small smile, eyes still misty.
he cleared his throat, stepped forward like he was preparing a speech, and asked, “are you absolutely certain the place you’re renting is fully furnished?”
you blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the practicality of his concern, but nodded. “yeah, dad. it is. i saw the pictures online, and the landlord sent us updated ones too. you showed them to me, remember?”
“it’s got the basics: a living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, a little dining area, even a mini walk-in closet. and a balcony,” you added, lifting your eyebrows as if that would finally put his mind at ease. “some furniture’s getting delivered tomorrow, but other than that, i’m all set.”
still, you know deep down they won’t stop worrying—not really. it’s just what parents do.
so you took their hands, holding them like you were anchoring the three of you in that little moment.
“mom. dad. i know you're worried. i really do. and i get it. but i have to do this—for me. for my future. remember how we talked about this?” you said softly, giving their hands a small swing.
they sighed, looking down at the pavement as if it held some kind of comfort. your mom’s lips trembled as she said, “i just can’t believe my baby girl’s going to college. it feels like just yesterday you were painting rocks in daycare and telling us they were ‘magical artifacts.’”
you laughed as she started to cry again, and without missing a beat, your dad stepped forward, wrapping the both of you in a warm, protective hug. the three of you stood there for a few seconds in silence—breathing each other in like this was the last chance you’d get.
“i promise i’ll visit when i can,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “and if anything happens, i’ll come running back home. always.”
your mom sniffled loudly, then pulled away just enough to cup your cheek. “nothing will happen to you. you hear me? you’re going to be fine. just... don’t stress too much. and don’t let yunjin drag you into too many parties. you know how she is.”
your dad nodded in agreement. “yeah. remember—college is about studying, not setting new records for the number of red cups you can balance.”
you burst into laughter, shaking your head. “you guys are unbelievable. i’m your daughter, remember? i’ve got at least some common sense.”
“barely,” your dad muttered, and you playfully elbowed him in the ribs.
amidst the bittersweet laughter, the sound of a car pulling up interrupts the moment.
“oh! that’s my uber,” you say, adjusting your backpack. “dad, can you help with my suitcases?”
“on it, bud,” he said, already hoisting both bags with that exaggerated dad-strength that never failed to impress you.
he waved to the driver, who rolled up to the curb. the trunk popped open, and your dad loaded everything in then dusted off his hands and turned back. “is that everything?” he asked.
“yes, dad. i’m going to college, not new york fashion week,” you tease, earning amused chuckles from both of them.
they escort you to the car, your mom opening the door for you. but as you settled in, she suddenly tapped gently on your window. you roll it down.
“yes, mom?”
she leaned in. “sir,” she said, addressing the uber driver with a gravity that made you look at her in confusion, “if my daughter says she’s feeling dizzy or needs a break, please pull over.”
“also, you’re going to the right address, yes?” your dad added, stepping in like he was interrogating a suspect.
you let out a groan and sank into your seat, using your backpack as a shield to hide your face. “guys, seriously...”
“and don’t drive too fast or weave between cars,” your mom continued. “please drive safely. she’s very precious cargo.”
“okay mom! dad! i love you both! please let the poor man do his job,” you said quickly, waving goodbye before whispering to the driver, “you can go now. before they make me wear bubble wrap.”
the driver chuckles as the car pulls away. you lean out the window, waving until your parents become small figures in the distance.
“i’ll call when i get there!” you shout back before sinking into your seat, heart full and heavy all at once. you breathe in slowly, gaze drifting out the window.
you can do this. it’s not going to be that hard... right?
⠀
⠀
after what felt like an eternity of winding roads, shifting scenery, and the soft hum of tires against asphalt, you finally arrived. the car rolled to a gentle stop in front of the building that would now be your new home for the next four years of your life.
you turned your head toward the window, eyes tracing the unfamiliar landscape, taking it all in—wide sidewalks dappled in sunlight, joggers weaving between pedestrians, laughter spilling from a group of cyclists, someone playing fetch with a very enthusiastic golden retriever.
the air held a certain freedom you hadn't even realized you'd been craving until now. it smelled like possibility, like the beginning of something beautifully unknown.
“alright, ma’am. we’ve arrived. would you like help with your suitcases?” the driver’s voice interrupted gently, his tone patient, practiced.
you blinked yourself out of your daze, glancing at the man in the rearview mirror before answering, “yes, please. just to the entrance would be great. thank you.”
you stepped out of the car, greeted by the sight of the tall, clean-lined building. you took a breath—deep, grounding—then turned to help the driver with your bags. the two of you wheeled the suitcases together toward the entrance.
you then turned to him, pulling out a small amount of cash. “thank you so much. really. and here—this is a little extra for putting up with my parents earlier.”
he let out a warm laugh as he accepted the tip. “ah, it was nothing. i’ve got kids myself. i know how it feels to watch them grow up.”
you smiled, heart swelling. “well, if they’ve got a dad like you, i’m sure they’re growing up wonderfully.”
“that’s kind of you to say. stay safe, ma’am.”
“you too, please drive safely,” you said with a grateful nod, before turning your attention to the double glass doors ahead of you. “alright... let’s do this.”
you mumbled to yourself as you wrestled your bags inside. the first thing that greeted you was the hum of the lobby’s air conditioner and a wall of metallic lockers neatly lined up to your right.
“oh thank god, elevators,” you sighed, eyeing the silver doors to the side. but before you headed up, you pulled out your phone to reread your landlord’s message, squinting at the little instructions tucked inside a cheerful block of text.
⠀
landlord 🏘️:
good day, miss y/n. here are a few instructions before entering your apartment.
on the first floor, you’ll see multiple lockers designated for deliveries and mail.
please locate locker no.508. that will be your personal locker. inside, you’ll find the keys for all the doors inside your apartment and all necessary passcodes, especially the passcode of your apartment.
the passcode to unlock your locker is 0628.
thank you again for choosing us. we hope you enjoy your stay, and please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions.
⠀
with a determined nod, you pocketed your phone and made your way through the lobby towards the right where the lockers are. polished silver doors with numbers engraved in neat rows. you scanned quickly until your eyes landed on 508.
you keyed in the code with a quiet click, and the locker door swung open.
inside were all the essentials: a set of keys, neatly labeled passcodes on a printed sheet, a few manuals for the appliances, and a small envelope titled 'welcome to your new home'.
“keys, check. passcodes, check. instructions, check. emotionally prepared? debatable,” you muttered, collecting everything before shutting the locker.
you hauled your bags into the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. the soft hum of the elevator was oddly comforting, a brief moment of stillness.
the doors opened with a quiet chime, revealing an empty, serene corridor lined with identical doors. you walked slowly, counting off the numbers until you reached 508 once again—this time, your door.
you typed in the passcode, heart thudding with an unfamiliar mix of nerves and excitement. a soft beep, a click, and the door opened.
your eyes widen.
“oh god. this is really happening,” you whispered, stepping inside.
the apartment was... perfect. minimal but welcoming, clean lines and cozy corners. the sunlight streamed in from the windows, dancing across the hardwood floors.
you grinned, walking deeper into your new space. “it’s even better in person! it really has everything i—wait... the balcony!” your voice shot up an octave, already halfway to the glass doors.
you threw your backpack aside and stepped out onto the balcony. the breeze kissed your skin as you exhaled slowly, taking in the view. you pulled out your phone and took a handful of photos—one of the scenery, one of the sky, two of your grinning face—ready to send them to your parents with a reassuring caption.
you were about to hit send when you heard a small sound, high and soft.
“meow.”
you froze.
you turn, the sight before you making you gasp. sitting on the next apartment's balcony is the fluffiest calico cat you’ve ever seen. “oh my gosh, hi sweet angel– no, wait! don’t jump–” but it’s too late. with the grace of a furry ninja, she leapt from one balcony to yours, landing with a perfect thud and zero regrets.
you blinked. “well. who am i to reject a royal visit?”
you kneel and gently stroke her fur before completely sitting down on the floor. “what’s your name?” you murmur. as if on cue, the cat shifts, revealing her collar. “yami? aww, what a lovely name.”
she nestled into your lap like you were long-lost friends. you let out a delighted gasp, “oh no. not the cuteness. you’re too powerful,” you whispered, gently running your fingers through her fur, trying not to explode from cuteness aggression. the last thing you wanted was to scare her away.
you had no idea how much time passed. minutes? hours? you didn’t care. it was just you and yami, and the world could wait.
until—
“yami?”
you flinched.
the voice was male. close. way too close. and getting closer.
you got startled, which in turn startled the cat—violating the sacred cat law: if a cat sits on your lap, you don’t move. ever. but you did. and now you felt like an unforgivable criminal.
“yami,” the voice called again, now just on the other side of the glass. “there you are. what are you doing? hanging out on our neighbor’s balcony again?”
you peeked ever so slightly through the curtain. the guy was in a hoodie, the hood over his head, and pajama pants, hair sticking out, probably tousled like he’d just woken up. he also sounded young so he's probably close to your age. he crouched down and scratched yami behind the ears, completely unaware of your presence.
“are you excited to meet our new neighbor?” he asked the cat, who meowed back in response, tail flicking happily.
he laughed to himself and disappeared back into his apartment.
you exhale, not realizing you’d held your breath. ‘why did i even hide?’ you scold yourself. ‘i didn’t do anything wrong.’
shaking the embarrassment away, you pull your suitcases into your bedroom. it’s bare, except for a mattress, blanket, and a few pillows. your furniture will arrive tomorrow.
you sigh and begin to unpack, preparing to shower and change into something more comfortable.
“this is going to be a long month,” you murmur to yourself, unaware that this—this quiet, chaotic beginning—was only the start.
⠀
⠀
taglist⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀ @morganaawriterr @wondoras @mypolka @meowwwon @dolliehue @in-somnias-world @yjwonsgf @kirijuns @iifrui @momisanalien @vieniee @drunkjazed @hhyvsstuff @readinmidnight @noona-neomu-yeppeo @cutehoons02 @robotinvenus @starfallia (taglist is still open)
final note⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed, part two will be posted next saturday. thank you so much for reading.
SYNOPSIS⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀starting college in a new city, you’re settling into your apartment and trying to make it feel like home. on your first day, a fluffy calico cat appears on your neighbor's balcony, jumping towards yours as if to greet you, stealing your heart instantly. but when a voice calls out for the cat from the next balcony, panic sets in—you rush back inside, too shy to meet your new neighbor. that neighbor turns out to be yang jungwon, a fellow student in the same university who’s also new in town. thanks to his mischievous and adventurous cat, the two of you keep running into each other in the most unexpected ways. a friendship blossoms, slowly turning into something deeper—though jungwon keeps insisting it’s nothing more than friendship. as feelings grow stronger, the question remains: will their bond turn into something more—or remain just a college memory?
⠀
⠀
pairing⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀college student!yang jungwon x college student!f.reader.
featuring⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀all enhypen members (soon), le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon (soon), aespa winter and karina (soon).
word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀2.241k
genre⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, kinda slow burn, college life, university life, slice of life, comedy (although i don't find myself funny), friendships, relationships, and the cat distribution system. (it has chosen you and gave you two lovely cats.)
warnings⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀drinking alcohol, parties, getting drunk (obviously), misunderstandings, jealousy, denial (jungwon is in denial), lots of flirting and tension, cat keeps breaking into your apartment, kissing, skinship, reader (aka us) is very delusional and does a lot of overthinking, a bit cringe (i think it's cringe bcs i wrote it), and might contain suggestive content in the later parts that are yet to be posted. lowercase letters intended. very proofread. tell me if i'm missing anything.
mæw's notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀hi guys, this will be my very first enhypen au / fanfic here in tumblr. i will be cutting this fanfic in multiple parts instead of posting it all at once because it already has a word count of 40k.
i am still new to this so i will surely make mistakes. please be patient with me and i hope you guys enjoy my work. this story will be added to my masterlist.
also, don't even try copy-pasting my work into an ai detection website, because i already tried it and it still said that parts of it was written by ai, even though i literally wrote it on my phone in front of my cousin.
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.
⠀
library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part two.
⠀
“are you completely certain you have everything, sweetheart?” your mother asks for what feels like the hundredth time, her voice tinged with both worry and affection. you can’t help but chuckle softly, rolling your eyes in fond exasperation as you roll two suitcases out through the front door.
behind you, she follows closely, reciting the list of college essentials she helped you pack, while your father lingers not far behind.
“mom, for the tenth time—literally—you packed with me. you know i’ve got everything,” you reply, turning to face her. she frowns slightly, reluctantly folding her list and slipping it into her pocket.
she reaches for your hands and clasps them tightly, as though letting go meant letting you go forever. “i’m sorry, sweetie. i just can’t help but worry. i’m going to miss you so much,” she says, her eyes already glistening with unshed tears.
you felt your heart ache as you pulled her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her as tight as you can. “oh, mom...” you murmured, voice muffled in her hair, “i’m going to miss you, too. and dad. and everyone. but this isn’t goodbye forever, okay? it’s just college—four years, tops. i’ll be back before you even realize i’m gone.” you reassured her while smiling.
“is it my turn now?” came your dad’s voice from behind, cutting through the moment with the kind of comedic timing only he had. you turned to him, confused.
“yes, honey, go ahead,” your mother says with a small smile, eyes still misty.
he cleared his throat, stepped forward like he was preparing a speech, and asked, “are you absolutely certain the place you’re renting is fully furnished?”
you blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the practicality of his concern, but nodded. “yeah, dad. it is. i saw the pictures online, and the landlord sent us updated ones too. you showed them to me, remember?”
“it’s got the basics: a living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, a little dining area, even a mini walk-in closet. and a balcony,” you added, lifting your eyebrows as if that would finally put his mind at ease. “some furniture’s getting delivered tomorrow, but other than that, i’m all set.”
still, you know deep down they won’t stop worrying—not really. it’s just what parents do.
so you took their hands, holding them like you were anchoring the three of you in that little moment.
“mom. dad. i know you're worried. i really do. and i get it. but i have to do this—for me. for my future. remember how we talked about this?” you said softly, giving their hands a small swing.
they sighed, looking down at the pavement as if it held some kind of comfort. your mom’s lips trembled as she said, “i just can’t believe my baby girl’s going to college. it feels like just yesterday you were painting rocks in daycare and telling us they were ‘magical artifacts.’”
you laughed as she started to cry again, and without missing a beat, your dad stepped forward, wrapping the both of you in a warm, protective hug. the three of you stood there for a few seconds in silence—breathing each other in like this was the last chance you’d get.
“i promise i’ll visit when i can,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “and if anything happens, i’ll come running back home. always.”
your mom sniffled loudly, then pulled away just enough to cup your cheek. “nothing will happen to you. you hear me? you’re going to be fine. just... don’t stress too much. and don’t let yunjin drag you into too many parties. you know how she is.”
your dad nodded in agreement. “yeah. remember—college is about studying, not setting new records for the number of red cups you can balance.”
you burst into laughter, shaking your head. “you guys are unbelievable. i’m your daughter, remember? i’ve got at least some common sense.”
“barely,” your dad muttered, and you playfully elbowed him in the ribs.
amidst the bittersweet laughter, the sound of a car pulling up interrupts the moment.
“oh! that’s my uber,” you say, adjusting your backpack. “dad, can you help with my suitcases?”
“on it, bud,” he said, already hoisting both bags with that exaggerated dad-strength that never failed to impress you.
he waved to the driver, who rolled up to the curb. the trunk popped open, and your dad loaded everything in then dusted off his hands and turned back. “is that everything?” he asked.
“yes, dad. i’m going to college, not new york fashion week,” you tease, earning amused chuckles from both of them.
they escort you to the car, your mom opening the door for you. but as you settled in, she suddenly tapped gently on your window. you roll it down.
“yes, mom?”
she leaned in. “sir,” she said, addressing the uber driver with a gravity that made you look at her in confusion, “if my daughter says she’s feeling dizzy or needs a break, please pull over.”
“also, you’re going to the right address, yes?” your dad added, stepping in like he was interrogating a suspect.
you let out a groan and sank into your seat, using your backpack as a shield to hide your face. “guys, seriously...”
“and don’t drive too fast or weave between cars,” your mom continued. “please drive safely. she’s very precious cargo.”
“okay mom! dad! i love you both! please let the poor man do his job,” you said quickly, waving goodbye before whispering to the driver, “you can go now. before they make me wear bubble wrap.”
the driver chuckles as the car pulls away. you lean out the window, waving until your parents become small figures in the distance.
“i’ll call when i get there!” you shout back before sinking into your seat, heart full and heavy all at once. you breathe in slowly, gaze drifting out the window.
you can do this. it’s not going to be that hard... right?
⠀
⠀
after what felt like an eternity of winding roads, shifting scenery, and the soft hum of tires against asphalt, you finally arrived. the car rolled to a gentle stop in front of the building that would now be your new home for the next four years of your life.
you turned your head toward the window, eyes tracing the unfamiliar landscape, taking it all in—wide sidewalks dappled in sunlight, joggers weaving between pedestrians, laughter spilling from a group of cyclists, someone playing fetch with a very enthusiastic golden retriever.
the air held a certain freedom you hadn't even realized you'd been craving until now. it smelled like possibility, like the beginning of something beautifully unknown.
“alright, ma’am. we’ve arrived. would you like help with your suitcases?” the driver’s voice interrupted gently, his tone patient, practiced.
you blinked yourself out of your daze, glancing at the man in the rearview mirror before answering, “yes, please. just to the entrance would be great. thank you.”
you stepped out of the car, greeted by the sight of the tall, clean-lined building. you took a breath—deep, grounding—then turned to help the driver with your bags. the two of you wheeled the suitcases together toward the entrance.
you then turned to him, pulling out a small amount of cash. “thank you so much. really. and here—this is a little extra for putting up with my parents earlier.”
he let out a warm laugh as he accepted the tip. “ah, it was nothing. i’ve got kids myself. i know how it feels to watch them grow up.”
you smiled, heart swelling. “well, if they’ve got a dad like you, i’m sure they’re growing up wonderfully.”
“that’s kind of you to say. stay safe, ma’am.”
“you too, please drive safely,” you said with a grateful nod, before turning your attention to the double glass doors ahead of you. “alright... let’s do this.”
you mumbled to yourself as you wrestled your bags inside. the first thing that greeted you was the hum of the lobby’s air conditioner and a wall of metallic lockers neatly lined up to your right.
“oh thank god, elevators,” you sighed, eyeing the silver doors to the side. but before you headed up, you pulled out your phone to reread your landlord’s message, squinting at the little instructions tucked inside a cheerful block of text.
⠀
landlord 🏘️:
good day, miss y/n. here are a few instructions before entering your apartment.
on the first floor, you’ll see multiple lockers designated for deliveries and mail.
please locate locker no.508. that will be your personal locker. inside, you’ll find the keys for all the doors inside your apartment and all necessary passcodes, especially the passcode of your apartment.
the passcode to unlock your locker is 0628.
thank you again for choosing us. we hope you enjoy your stay, and please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions.
⠀
with a determined nod, you pocketed your phone and made your way through the lobby towards the right where the lockers are. polished silver doors with numbers engraved in neat rows. you scanned quickly until your eyes landed on 508.
you keyed in the code with a quiet click, and the locker door swung open.
inside were all the essentials: a set of keys, neatly labeled passcodes on a printed sheet, a few manuals for the appliances, and a small envelope titled 'welcome to your new home'.
“keys, check. passcodes, check. instructions, check. emotionally prepared? debatable,” you muttered, collecting everything before shutting the locker.
you hauled your bags into the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. the soft hum of the elevator was oddly comforting, a brief moment of stillness.
the doors opened with a quiet chime, revealing an empty, serene corridor lined with identical doors. you walked slowly, counting off the numbers until you reached 508 once again—this time, your door.
you typed in the passcode, heart thudding with an unfamiliar mix of nerves and excitement. a soft beep, a click, and the door opened.
your eyes widen.
“oh god. this is really happening,” you whispered, stepping inside.
the apartment was... perfect. minimal but welcoming, clean lines and cozy corners. the sunlight streamed in from the windows, dancing across the hardwood floors.
you grinned, walking deeper into your new space. “it’s even better in person! it really has everything i—wait... the balcony!” your voice shot up an octave, already halfway to the glass doors.
you threw your backpack aside and stepped out onto the balcony. the breeze kissed your skin as you exhaled slowly, taking in the view. you pulled out your phone and took a handful of photos—one of the scenery, one of the sky, two of your grinning face—ready to send them to your parents with a reassuring caption.
you were about to hit send when you heard a small sound, high and soft.
“meow.”
you froze.
you turn, the sight before you making you gasp. sitting on the next apartment's balcony is the fluffiest calico cat you’ve ever seen. “oh my gosh, hi sweet angel– no, wait! don’t jump–” but it’s too late. with the grace of a furry ninja, she leapt from one balcony to yours, landing with a perfect thud and zero regrets.
you blinked. “well. who am i to reject a royal visit?”
you kneel and gently stroke her fur before completely sitting down on the floor. “what’s your name?” you murmur. as if on cue, the cat shifts, revealing her collar. “yami? aww, what a lovely name.”
she nestled into your lap like you were long-lost friends. you let out a delighted gasp, “oh no. not the cuteness. you’re too powerful,” you whispered, gently running your fingers through her fur, trying not to explode from cuteness aggression. the last thing you wanted was to scare her away.
you had no idea how much time passed. minutes? hours? you didn’t care. it was just you and yami, and the world could wait.
until—
“yami?”
you flinched.
the voice was male. close. way too close. and getting closer.
you got startled, which in turn startled the cat—violating the sacred cat law: if a cat sits on your lap, you don’t move. ever. but you did. and now you felt like an unforgivable criminal.
“yami,” the voice called again, now just on the other side of the glass. “there you are. what are you doing? hanging out on our neighbor’s balcony again?”
you peeked ever so slightly through the curtain. the guy was in a hoodie, the hood over his head, and pajama pants, hair sticking out, probably tousled like he’d just woken up. he also sounded young so he's probably close to your age. he crouched down and scratched yami behind the ears, completely unaware of your presence.
“are you excited to meet our new neighbor?” he asked the cat, who meowed back in response, tail flicking happily.
he laughed to himself and disappeared back into his apartment.
you exhale, not realizing you’d held your breath. ‘why did i even hide?’ you scold yourself. ‘i didn’t do anything wrong.’
shaking the embarrassment away, you pull your suitcases into your bedroom. it’s bare, except for a mattress, blanket, and a few pillows. your furniture will arrive tomorrow.
you sigh and begin to unpack, preparing to shower and change into something more comfortable.
“this is going to be a long month,” you murmur to yourself, unaware that this—this quiet, chaotic beginning—was only the start.
⠀
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taglist⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀ @morganaawriterr @wondoras @mypolka @meowwwon @dolliehue @in-somnias-world @yjwonsgf @kirijuns @iifrui @momisanalien @vieniee @drunkjazed @hhyvsstuff @readinmidnight @noona-neomu-yeppeo @cutehoons02 @robotinvenus @starfallia (taglist is still open)
final note⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed, part two will be posted next saturday. thank you so much for reading.
many knew his name around campus. he was handsome, rich, heartless, and the star ice hockey player for the university’s team.
also known as the ice prince. you didn’t find the appeal.
known for his over all skating skills, speed, stick handling, passing, and agility, he was one of a kind on the ice. per rumor, he already has professional coaches wanting him. he was co-captain with lee heeseung, another beast on the ice.
one thing all the men had in common on the hockey team was their anger. specifically jake sim, he was the one to get into fights the most on the team. nishimura riki second.
sunghoon never got mad it seems. you don’t think he’s ever had a meltdown on the ice before. if he had, you’re sure it would be all in the university’s news column and spread like a wild fire around campus.
you walked into your business law and ethics course, a few students already sitting in their usual seats. you headed straight to your seat in the back, by the window, over looking the garden in memory of the man who funded this lecture hall.
many if the students in this university came from money, wealth, high status families, or knew someone of money, wealth, and high status.
while most here were excited for the parties, ragers, hook ups, you couldn’t be.
you made a promise to your parents university wouldn’t be fun for you, but more so for you to get your degree and have a better life for yourself. for them. for what they failed to provide.
you didn’t come from money. you came from land. your parents owned a farm, and yes, was well respected in the community and had a decent amount of wealth, but they wanted more for you. they wanted you to be the one to be a big time ceo, wearing suits and bossing people around.
even if that’s what you didn’t want. you wanted to teach. but you were studying economics and business to please your parents. they are the ones that paid for your university tuition on top of the many scholarships you received.
one being the ‘strong hero’ award that was made just for you. you were thankful your old coach sponsored a scholarship in your honor, but seeing the plaque hanging on your wall back home just brought painful memories.
painful memories of that day that ruined your dream.
closer to 10:50 am, more students started to trickle into the lecture hall, dreading the professors upcoming pair assignment.
you knew no one in this class. only knew of people. and that included the four coming into the lecture hall currently.
lee heeseung. kim sunoo. yang jungwon. park sunghoon.
the four took up two tables behind you, their presence already known to other girls in the lecture hall. begging for their attention.
you rolled your eyes internally. you couldn’t judge though. your friend and roommate, juria, had a small crush on jungwon, but poor girl was too afraid to speak to him!
you heard buzz around the classroom of students talking about the upcoming pair assignment.
instead of a final exam, or final independent essay, your professor mentioned a pair assignment of choosing a case study relating to the course, writing a paper and power point on it, and presenting to the class.
you rather write that paper independently.
looking around, you wouldn’t even know who you would want to be paired with, without being the one to do all the work.
“okay class settle down,” professor ma came in right on the dot at 11:00 am. “the first 45 minutes of class, i will be going over the requirements and expectations of the assignment. then the ten minutes, i will send out the email with your assignment pairs and allow you all to meet during class. this will be the only class time for that.”
you anxiously twirled your pen between your fingers. would you get paired with wonyoung? hopefully not, and there are many reasons for that. taeyun would be a good choice, however, he’s extremely quiet and weird. sometimes you’d catch him staring at you weirdly. maybe sophia? she was smart and kind.
drumming your pen against your notepad, you hadn’t realize it was distracting to a certain fella behind you.
“can you stop that?” he says quietly.
you turn around slowly, hoping your eyes would kill with the way you were shooting daggers. you did stop tapping your pen though. rolling your eyes you faced back to the front.
sunghoon scoffed at the attitude. you were the one not being considerate and you had the audacity to get annoyed by him?
sunghoon barely knew you, but knew of you, since he was childhood friends with sullyoon, who happened to be your friend and roommate.
he only realized when sullyoon brought him back to the dorm as she had to make a quick stop, and you came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, your hair wet.
any ideas sunghoon had were thrown out the window immediately as soon as you opened your mouth calling him a creep because he was staring at you like a child who was caught sneaking into the cookie jar.
10:27 am, and the professor sent out the list of the pair assignments.
“who’d you get?” heeseung asked his friends and teammates.
“chanelle,” jungwon smiles.
“i got,” sunoo says, focusing his eyes on the screen, “jiheon,”
“she’s cute man,” heeseung smirks, sunoo blushing. heeseung looks over across the room to a pretty girl in the front, “i’m paired with manon.” he smiles.
“sunghoon who did you get?” sunoo asks. sunghoon was still in his seat. eyes blazing at the screening, hoping what he was seeing wasn’t reality. heeseung on his left, and the other two on his right leaned over his shoulder to look at the screen.
sunghoon slowly looked up, as you turned around in your own seat, a look of displeasure. then, a teasing smirk came to his face, “well, hello partner.”
you gripped your pen so tight, you were sure it would burst in your hand.
some of your classmates went to meet with their partners, including sunghoon’s friends, but you turned back in your seat, sliding down hoping this was a nightmare.
after dismissing class, you quickly gathered your things, running out the classroom, ignoring your name being called from behind.
sunghoon bids goodbye to his friends, a stream of ‘good luck’ to him from them.
he yells your name again, before he caught up to you, stepping in front of you to stop you from getting away. “what sunghoon?” you crossed your arms in defeat.
“well, one we are partners. i don’t have a way of contacting you unless you want me to find you on social media?”
he knew what your social media handles were. but you didn’t know that.
you held out your hand, signaling for him to hand you his phone and he did. punching in your number, you left your contact.
“we can start meeting tomorrowz how about 5ish?”
sunghoon shook his head. “i have practice until 7. how about meet me at the rink and we can go to the nearby cafe?”
you hesitated. you hadn’t been in an ice skating rink for years. “um,” you swallowed, “okay.” he did say meet at the rink, not in the rink.
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staying out of the rink turned out to be harder than you thought as the frigid weather made you shiver, seeking warmth immediately.
for late november, the temperatures were already below 40°f, and even light snowfall had began.
your jeans, cream thick sweater, brown coat, did nothing to keep you warm. you would need to buy a hat, gloves, and scarf soon. maybe even some winter boots.
stepping into the arena, your chest thumped in anticipation. with your bag on your shoulder, your gripped it tighter, inching closer to the actual ice rink, hearing the sound of the blades scraping. coach yelling. boys arguing. whistle being blown.
you found yourself at the top of the bleachers, watching the team below run drills. your eyes easily found park sunghoon. it was hard not to. the boys were great. but he was better. he was smooth and knowledgeable of the ice. he owned the ice.
you sat down, watching in awe. chest aching with want. dread. sadness. memories.
lacing up your skates. your favorite blue dress, with the lace. the itchiness of the tights that matched your skin. the last one you wore now ripped, still buried in the deep of your closet.
your ankle began aching at the thought. your hands when to your left ankle, rubbing to soothe the pain that was no longer there.
the whistle blew, signaling the end of practice. boys huffing, their endurance slipping as it was challenged for the past two hours. the coach praised his team, calling out a few for nasty hits in between.
sunoo, the goaltender, nudged sunghoon and nodded his head up. sunghoon looked up seeing you rubbing your ankle as if it was hurting, your eyes watching the boys one by one leave the rink and head to the showers.
“i’ll meet you all in there. just need to let my partner know i don’t want to go to the cafe stinky.” sunghoon informs, sunoo nodded and walked the back way towards the locker room.
staring off to the space, memories flooding your brain, you hadn’t noticed sunghoon walking up the bleachers to stand in front of you.
“is your ankle okay?” he says, startling you. you looked up at him, hands stopping mid rub, your eyes glossy.
“oh, yeah, i’m fine.” you lied with a smile. “ready?” you ask standing up.
sunghoon chuckled. “unless you want me going to the cafe smelling like this, i think it’s best i shower before leaving.”
“oh, right.” you didn’t want to spend another minute in here, but you also didn’t want to stand outside.
“i’ll be in the lobby.”
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fifteen minutes later and sunghoon was done with his shower, his teammates saying bye one by one to you. sunghoon was the last one to leave the locker room, his bag carried over his shoulder.
“ready now?” you asked, standing up from the uncomfortable chair.
sunghoon nodded. “yeah, but i forgot my school backpack at home. i was in a rush gathering my hockey stuff, i forgot.”
you rolled your eyes. “by the time you go home to get your bag, the cafe will be closed.” you sighed, looking down at the time on your phone. 8:48 pm. the cafe closes at 10 pm. it wouldn’t even be worth it to be at the cafe for less than 30 minutes. you groaned, leaning your head back. hours of your day, wasted.
“why don’t we just go back to my place?”
your head whipped forward, eyes narrowing. “i think the fuck not.”
“why not? it’ll be less distracting than the cafe. i’ll order us food.”
food. you always agree when food is involved. “as long as you’re paying.” your finger poked his chest.
“of course.”
“and this better not be a tactic to get me in bed, because that won’t work, ice prince. i know your reputation and i am immune to it.”
sunghoon snorted, “trust me, you’re not my type.”
“and what is your type? easy to court? or maybe wonyoung—,”
sunghoon’s eyes darken, “don’t mention her name.”
your mouth slammed shut. well those rumors were true. something happened between him and wonyoung young and it did not end well.
“my car is this way.” he began walking towards the parking lot in the back of the arena, only a handful of cars left.
and of course, the rich ice prince owns and drives a maserati. “of course,” you mumbled.
sunghoon didn’t say a word as he opens the passenger door for you. a habit he has for any woman that gets into his car. “sorry, a habit.” he mumbles an apology when you give him a questionable look. “promise i’m not trying to make moves on you.”
sunghoon threw his practice bag in the trunk, and jogged to his side of the car, quickly warming it up once starting it. “butt warmer?”
you nodded. one non-negotiable for when you finally get your own car—a car with butt/seat warmers.
the ride to sunghoon’s was quiet other than the soft music playing in the background. his apartment was off campus, about a fifteen minute drive.
of course he pulled up to one of the fanciest, newer apartment complex’s. “well damn, how rich are you?”
sunghoon said nothing, driving under the parking garage after entering behind the steel gate. he parked in his spot, 1105.
you both got out, you careful to shut his car door, not wanting to put a scratch on this precious thing.
the walk and ride up the elevator to his was, awkward. no words exchanged. just glances to each other here and there.
what happened to the loud, obnoxious hockey player people talk about?
“you’re quiet.” you say as the elevator doors opened to the eleventh floor.
he walked out first, you behind. “and that’s a shocker?”
“well yeah, i thought you’d be loud and obnoxious.”
“did your parents ever tell you to not believe gossip?”
you shrug. “it’s only gossip if it can’t be proven. i’ve seen you play hockey. i’ve seen the way you interact with your friends.”
“doesn’t mean i’m loud and obnoxious, sweetheart.” he goes to his door, placing his key to the fob. when it opened you were met with a sleek design in the interior.
“wow.” you were blown away. “this is a lot nicer than the dorms on campus.”
“my parents wanted me to have a nice environment so i can succeed in my studies and hockey career.” he says as if he’s reading a script.
you toed your shoes off, walking further into the apartment, to the living room, finding comfort on the cushions.
“i’ll go get my study materials.” sunghoon hands you his phone, “order whatever you want.”
“what about you?” you frowned.
“i’ll eat whatever you eat.” he says and walked towards his room, you’re assuming.
unbeknownst to you, he knew what you would order and eat. and he would eat the same. you both were more alike then you knew.
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11:52 pm
you yawned, your laptop open in front of you on sunghoon’s coffee table. you sat on the floor in front of it, your legs crossed. sunghoon sat on his couch, his right knee by your head, him leaned back to stretch his limbs, his own laptop on his lap.
empty food containers surrounded you both.
with another yawn, you stretched your arms up, sunghoon watching every movement. infatuated with you. shit.
“i didn’t realize how late it was!” you say tiredly, your eyes finally wondering to the time on your laptop.
sunghoon swallowed hoping you didn’t slap him for what he was about to propose, “do you want to stay the night?” heat bloomed within him, ears turning red. “i mean, i have a guest room, you can sleep in there. lots of my friends sleep in the guest room the it’s too late.” he begins to ramble, “it’s so dark and cold out, i would hate for you to have to walk home, and i mean i could drive you—,”
sunghoon stopped talking seeing a smile creep on your face. he’s cute when he rambles. “i’ll take the guest room.” you say standing up, joints cracking. “try anything and i’ll have your head, park.”
you both packed up your stuff quietly, sunghoon showing you the guest suite. queen bed, minimal decor, but a comfy room for guests.
“feel free to shower and whatever.” he mumbles leaning against the doorway, watching you carefully.
“why? do you can stare at me while i’m in my towel again?” you clicked your tongue.
sunghoon leaned his head down, embarrassment creeping over him. “goodnight.” he says instead leaving you alone.
you took the opportunity to take finally take a nice warm shower with a good amount of water pressure. the bathroom had a towel warmer, and in the closet, there were basic men’s clothes so you grabbed a pair of boxers and an oversized shirt to wear to bed.
the mattress was extremely more comfortable than the ones at your dorm. you melted into the mattress and sheets, sleep taking over you immediately.
so this is what it was like to be rich, huh.
in the other room, sunghoon was spiraling. he pulled out his phone to search your social media. he had to learn more about you. there was just something.
mainly the way he observed you at the ice rink. there were times he saw you sitting there, a look of longing behind your eyes. missing something. how you unconsciously rubbed your ankle.
he took his laptop and phone back out to the kitchen to sit at the island, a soju opened.
he looked through your twitter, your instagram (you should really private that—not everyone deserves to see your bikini pics—sunghoon thought licking his lips), lastly, your facebook. you didn’t post much. just random memes.
he did find you tagged in a post form years ago. at a local ice skating rink near your home town. his eyes widening seeing you in a dress—in mid air as you did a jump on the ice.
you were a figure skater. but after that post, he found nothing else. it was like you had it all erased.
which you did. that you knew of.
but sunghoon was smarter than that. he typed your full name, and your home town in the search bar.
bingo.
stories of you. you dominating the figure skating world. he ran his fingers through his hair, his dark locks sticking in every direction.
then, an article published from 4 years ago. your junior year of high school. a jump didn’t go right. your partner wasn’t there for you.
you got injured. not only springing your wrist, but shattering a bone in your ankle.
ouch. someone had actually taken a picture of your broken ankle, and it almost didn’t look real.
“it’s four in the morning dude.” you say behind him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.
you saw a quick glance at his screen, your body freezing before he could close the laptop.
he stood up quickly, stumbling due to the more than half empty bottle of soju.
“what are you doing?” you whisper. almost scared to even speak of what you used to be.
“you used to be a figure—,”
“don’t!” you held up his hand to stop him. you took a deep breath with your eyes closed before opening once more. “go to sleep, sunghoon.” you say softly.
he couldn’t imagine the pain he would feel if something happened and he had to stop hockey. you went to turn away, but he grabbed your hand. “i’ll go to sleep if you tell me about what happened.”
you hesitated, “not now, sunghoon.”
“please.” he pleaded.
“why?” you asked in an accusatory tone.
his eyes search yours. he didn’t really know why. “i saw you while i was at practice. you longed to be on the ice. want to know why you haven’t tried to get back out there?”
“who’s to say i haven’t?” you say. a moment of silence before you tell him goodnight for the final time, walking back to the guest room.
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two weeks have passed and sunghoon hasn’t brought up your past life since that night. he would give you looks during your time with him for the project, but he held back.
the project and presentation was due in two weeks, but you both had made good progress. sunghoon would have tournaments coming up, so he wanted to make sure you both had enough work done for days he wouldn’t be available.
today was one of those days to catch up and get ahead. you walked into the rink, the familiarity welcoming you with ease. it was quiet, not hearing any boys yelling or fighting each other.
instead, you saw his teammates walking towards the lobby with their bags on their shoulders.
“there’s the ice princess.” heeseung smiles and your body gets immediate chills. you haven’t heard that nickname in years.
“what did you call me?” you asked breathlessly.
“ice princess.” jungwon says as it was no big deal.
“why would you call me that?” you spat. was he mocking you?
heeseung looked taken back by the venom in your voice, “because hoon is called the ice prince? and you’re partners for the project so it only makes sense?”
your shoulders relaxed. “sorry.” you mumbled embarrassed, and pushed past the group of men, going straight to the rink.
sunghoon was still on the ice, skating around, hitting the pucks with much force into the goal.
“well calm down there, ice prince. you might break something.” you called out with a smile.
not only have you an sunghoon gotten much work done in the past two weeks, but you both have grown a lot closer. as friends of course. sullyoon likes to beg to differ, but what she thinks (or knows) doesn’t matter.
a guy like sunghoon doesn’t fall for a girl like you. it was proved when you saw wonyoung hanging off his arm a few days ago. must be back together.
sunghoon skated towards you with ease, stopping like a pro. he forehead was damp from sweat, mouthguard in making his lips pucker even more.
“you know your co-captain called me ice princess?” you raised your eyebrow. “haven’t been called that in a long while.” you say holding on to the edge of the glass barrier.
“why would he do that?” he asks taking off his helmet.
“something about me being partners with the ice prince so it only made sense.”
“it only would make sense if we were a couple.” he says nonchalantly, stepping onto the floor. one thing about sunghoon, he was always blunt with his answers.
“right.” you nodded. you looked behind him, the fresh skate marks making your heart skip.
gosh you missed it.
“want to get out there?” sunghoon asks.
you shake your head. “no, i’m okay.”
he laughs. “oh come on! you have a new nickname to live up to now, sweetheart,” he teases. “or shall i say, ice princess.”
“sunghoon i haven’t been on the ice since my injury, okay? well i tried once, but it didn’t go too well.”
“do you trust me?” sunghoon asks, eyes locked onto yours.
you stared at him. did you trust him? you barely knew him. but your best friend, sullyoon did. has he given you a reason to not trust him? he hasn’t.
“you haven’t said no, so that means you’re thinking about it. which means, you have a little trust in me.”
before you knew it, sunghoon had a pair of skates dangling in front of you.
like muscle memory you put them on, thankful you wore comfy jeans and a hoodie.
when it came to getting on the ice, you hesitated, but sunghoon held out his hand. “i’ve got you. i won’t let you fall like that.”
the fact you had more trust in sunghoon, a guy you barely knew over your old partner for skating of almost 10 years is insane.
but you believed him. you believed he wouldn’t let you fall.
you stepped on the ice like a new born deer, but it didn’t take long before memories came back, and you skated with ease. with a smile on your face.
sunghoon mirrored that smile. he was worried you put more up a fight, but deep down, he knew once you actually put on skates and got on the ice, you’d be happy.
“isn’t it nice to not frown at the ice anymore?” he says. “or be scared of it?” you shot him a glare. but then, as a tease, you pushed his shoulder and skated off, causing sunghoon to laugh and chase you.
you stuck out your tongue as you skated backwards. it was like you never left.
in the shadows, someone was watching. wonyoung. arms crossed, brows furrowed, with a scowl on her face.
oh no. this won’t do. she cleanched her jaw. sunghoon never smiled at her like that.
she turned to walk off, not wanting to witness the friendliness in front of her anymore.
back on the ice, sunghoon quickly caught up to you, and grabbed you around your waist to spin you around. with a loud laugh, joy overwhelmed you.
after a while of skating around, and light conversations, you both skated towards the bleachers, to sit and take off your skates to replace back with your shoes.
“thank you, sunghoon.” your voice was light, with happiness.
“eh,” he held up a finger, “that’s ice prince to you, sweetheart.”
“and that’s ice princess to you.” you replied shyly, your hair coming out of your ponytail.
sunghoon reached out to move a piece behind your ear. his fingers lingered against your cheek.
you met his eyes, a look of uncertainty behind them. but a look of want. suddenly he was leaning towards you, and as you felt his lips ghost yours, you pulled back.
“you’re dating wonyoung.” you say.
his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “no we’re not.”
“she was hanging off your arm the other day, sunghoon.” your voice felt small as you said it.
he shook his head. “she was trying to convince me to get back together with her. i’m not interested in her.”
“oh.” you say. your heart leaped in your chest. why—why did that make you happy? you bit your lip to hold back a smile. “then, are you interested in someone?” you ask your voice cracking as you looked ahead at the ice.
sunghoon’s cold hand met the back of your neck, and when your head turned towards him, his lips met yours in a deep kiss.
soft and cold lips. him tasting your chapstick. his hand never left your neck, to push you further to him if possible. the kiss deepened, and when you opened your mouth for a fresh breath of air, he took the opportunity to have his tongue explore your mouth.
a whine escaped your lips, as your hands gripped his jersey tight in your fists, pulling him closer. somehow, you ended up on his lap, straddling his hips. your body rocking along with his. sunghoon felt he couldn’t pull you close enough.
gosh, you both probably looked like desperate, horny adults. but that’s exactly how you felt.
horny. needy. wanting sunghoon to crush the ache. he did have a reputation of also being a godsend in bed.
you grabbed his hands to put on your hips, and he more than happily rested them there, giving you a squeeze before his hands snaked around to grab your ass. a loud moan escaped you.
he suddenly pulled away, catching you off guard. because of that, you accidentally tugged at his bottom lip, a whine coming from his own mouth.
you traced your bottom lip with your thumb, as if to remember the feeling of his lips.
sunghoon cleared his throat, “sorry, didn’t, um—,” he adjusted in his seat, you still in his lap. “didn’t want to take it too far.” he quickly stood up, easily moving you back to the seat you had started in, “let me go get changed and then we can go work on our project a bit more.”
as he stood, nothing could hide the obvious boner as he discreetly tried to hide it as he walked off as fast as he could in his skates.
a blush crept on your cheeks, a laugh not being able to stop from escaping your lips.
sunghoon’s ears and cheeks became red at the remembrance of kissing you. how soft you felt. how you leaned into him. his back met the wall of the locker room, and a big, bright smile came on his face.
he wanted to kiss you more, but he was afraid that it would turn into him taking you right there on the bleachers. he had no shame. or control.
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a text message interrupted your thoughts days later while in your math class.
ice prince: do you want to come to my away game this weekend?
ice prince: i mean, of course if you want. sully is coming.
you could imagine that his ears were red, and he was trying to play it cool. which, he was.
sunghoon was in his own statistics class, sitting next to heeseung, who was trying not to laugh at sunghoon’s attempts to ‘ask you out.’
nervously, he picked at his lip, then ran his hand through his hair, anxiety prickling in him. his stomach dropped when you texted him back.
ice princess: i will be there.
sunghoon found himself, once again, smiling because of you.
“you’re like a love sick puppy. i’m scared.” heeseung says teasingly.
sunghoon was too busy staring at the text of yours to even come up with a snark reply to heeseung.
.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆ .𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆ ˚❆
“is this appropriate for a hockey game?” you ask sullyoon as you looked at the floor length mirror at the hotel you’d be staying at.
the away game was only an hour from the university, but you knew sully wouldn’t want to drive back in the late at night. plus you were sure if the boys won, it would be full at the local bar of your university’s students.
sully looked like a deer in headlights. “you’re—,”
“what?” you looked down at your outfit in panic. jeans, jersey with your university’s colors, comfy shoes.
“you’re wearing sunghoon’s jersey number.”
you were. “oh, well, um,” you stumbled over your words, glancing towards the clock in the hotel room, “we should go! game starts in 30!”
you quickly grabbed your coach and bag, leaving sullyoon behind shaking her head.
you were stopped at your door, seeing a bouquet of roses and a card.
can’t wait to see you. meet me before the game? south wing by the locker rooms. — your ice prince
“i told you!” sully exclaims, lightly shoving your shoulder.
all you could is smile, a light bloom of heat reaching your cheeks. “whatever, let’s go,” you say, grabbing her hand that didn’t hold the roses, pulling her to the rink which was a five minute walk from the hotel.
once arriving at the rink, it was buzzing with excitement. you felt so giddy inside. the roses were still in your hand, the card deep in your pocket.
you told sully you would meet her at the seats, and walked to meet sunghoon by the south wing locker rooms, most likely where the team was stationed.
smelling the roses, you came to a halt around the corner, to hide yourself when you heard two voices.
sunghoon. wonyoung.
“i’ve missed you hoonie.” wonyoung’s voice was sultry, sounded like nails on a chalkboard.
you didn’t hear sunghoon reply. so when you peaked around the corner, your body locked with rage, fighting back tears.
you dropped the roses, with a soft thud, covering your mouth trying to hide the sounds of a sob escaping.
he kissed her.
after hearing a noise, sunghoon forcefully removed his lips from wonyoung’s, his heart dropping seeing your face. he said you name. once. twice.
sunghoon began walking to you, but every step he took closer, you took a step back. you turned around to walk away, but he yelled your name for a third time, sounding closer than before.
“what sunghoon?” you whipped around, anger searing through you. you sniffled, trying to hold back tears.
his mouth opened to say something, but you cut him off, not wanting to hear a lame excuse.
“did you feel sorry for me? was i your charity case? is that why you asked me to come?”
“charity case, what do you mean?” his voice wavered. he reached for you, but you pulled back, sinking back in disgust.
you laughed, “ice prince, park sunghoon, leads on retired ice skating farm girl for a charity case.” you waved your hands in front of you like you were reading a billboard. “what a wonderful headline that would be for the university’s newspaper, huh?”
“it wasn’t like that,” he says desperately. “please hear me out.” he begged.
you looked over his shoulder seeing wonyoung with an innocent smile, as she twirled her hair. your eyes glared to her, then back to sunghoon.
“you know what really sucks about falling for a guy you know you're not right for? you fall anyway because you think he might turn out to be different.”
sunghoon was confused. he glowed inside at the thought of you falling for him, but then his throat tightened with sadness chest tightening with fear.
he couldn’t lose you.
“we’ll figure out the project separately.” finally you made, “thanks for all the getting me back on the ice, but i'm done skating. goodbye, ice prince.” you say, lip and voice quavering turning your back to him and wonyoung, ignoring every voice crack of your name coming from his lips.
⟢ a simple favor by @abriizeyday ⋮ wc ?? ♯ smut, handyman!shotaro, neighbours, possible switch!shotaro?
anton
⟢ always yours by @imsosoheee ⋮ wc 4.8k ♯ smut, long distance bf!anton, angst, emotional make up sex
·˚TXT
soobin
⟢ distraction by @calumcxke ⋮ wc 9.1k ♯ smut, best friends to lovers, reader is scared of thunder, rough comfort sex
⟢ midnight spirit by @filmsbyun ⋮ wc 17k ♯ smut, strangers to lovers, festival guide!soobin, mutual pining, lantern festival
⟢ chapter seven by @monoceros-in-ink ⋮ wc 10k ♯ smut, puppy hybrid!reader, heat, overstimulation, cum play
⟢ dream team? more like cream team by @yuumax553 ⋮ wc 1k ♯ smut, best friends to lovers, confession, dry humping, cumming in pants
(๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑) these were just some fics i have saved in my notes app lol :p i will keep updating this list! i couldn't include everything since i can't find some users anymore sadly :( i will soon add recs for james as well! keep coming back every few days to see my updates if you wanna :3
i hope everyone is doing fine. i know that it is taking so long for the last update of tcds and im really sorry but having three jobs is kicking my ass rn.
it sucks working at home but you have three jobs.
i have been working on the update even tho i am having a writer's block and cant think of anything to write even tho i know what i want to happen in the story.
as an apology, here is a sneak peek of the last chapter, chapter OO9 of tcds! please enjoy and please forgive me!
good day to everyone waiting for tcds part eight. i have some bad news—unfortunately, it’s taking me longer than expected to finish it because of my schedule. with work, graduation, and my birthday coming up, i have so much on my plate right now.
i hope you all understand and can be patient with me. i'm really sorry it’s taking this long. i’ll update as soon as i’m free and have the time. thank you so much for supporting and loving tcds. i love you all!
SYNOPSIS⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀starting college in a new city, you’re settling into your apartment and trying to make it feel like home. on your first day, a fluffy calico cat appears on your neighbor's balcony, jumping towards yours as if to greet you, stealing your heart instantly. but when a voice calls out for the cat from the next balcony, panic sets in—you rush back inside, too shy to meet your new neighbor. that neighbor turns out to be yang jungwon, a fellow student in the same university who’s also new in town. thanks to his mischievous and adventurous cat, the two of you keep running into each other in the most unexpected ways. a friendship blossoms, slowly turning into something deeper—though jungwon keeps insisting it’s nothing more than friendship. as feelings grow stronger, the question remains: will their bond turn into something more—or remain just a college memory?
pairing⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀college student!yang jungwon x college student!f.reader.
featuring⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀all enhypen members (soon), le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon (soon), aespa winter and karina (soon).
word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀4.813k
genre⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, kinda slow burn, college life, university life, slice of life, comedy (although i don't find myself funny), friendships, relationships, and the cat distribution system. (it has chosen you and gave you two lovely cats.)
warnings⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀drinking alcohol, parties, getting drunk (obviously), misunderstandings, confusion, jealousy, denial (jungwon is in denial), lots of flirting and tension, cat keeps breaking into your apartment, kissing, skinship, reader (aka us) is very delusional and does a lot of overthinking, a bit cringe (i wrote it so i think it's cringe), and might contain suggestive content in the later parts that are yet to be posted. lowercase letters intended. very proofread. tell me if i'm missing anything.
mæw's notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀hi guys, i'm finally able to post pt2! i hope you guys enjoy!
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.
library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part one.
#⠀OO1⠀:⠀THE AWKWARD BALCONY MEETING.
you groaned softly as the alarm pierced the silence of your apartment. eyes still heavy with sleep, you reached out blindly to silence it, then sat up in bed, lingering in the quiet. for a brief moment, the temptation to fall back under the covers tugged at you—until the memory of your scheduled furniture delivery pushed through the haze. with a resigned sigh, you began your morning.
you moved through your routine with quiet precision: a splash of cold water to the face, a brush of teeth, a quick sweep of your hair. the routine was grounding, familiar. once done, you padded into the kitchen, brewing a cup of coffee to chase the last remnants of sleep from your mind.
mug in hand, you stepped onto your balcony, the morning air still tinged with a gentle chill. you stretched lazily, shoulders rising and falling as a yawn escaped your lips. just as you were about to turn back inside, a sound stopped you in your tracks.
“meow.”
the drowsiness vanished in an instant, replaced by a smile that bloomed effortlessly. turning your head, you spotted her—yami—perched with the same regal poise she always carried, now on your balcony as if she belonged there.
“well, good morning to you too,” you murmured, voice soft with affection as your hand found her silky fur. she purred in response, pressing into your touch with a sense of trust that warmed your chest.
you took a sip of your coffee, the taste lingering on your tongue as you set the mug on the railing. with practiced gentleness, you scooped yami into your arms, cradling her carefully, fearful of startling her despite her calm demeanor.
wrapped in your arms, she seemed content. and for a moment, you forgot she wasn’t yours—that she belonged to someone else entirely.
lost in the simple joy of holding her, you barely noticed the voice that drifted over from the neighboring apartment.
“yami? where are you, girl?”
you froze, lifting your gaze only to be met with the most beautiful view you've seen this morning (aside from yami): a young man—tall, broad-shouldered, tiny waist, with blonde hair that caught the morning light like fire.
his eyes widened as they met yours, registering the sight of his cat in your arms. and just like that, the world paused.
you stared. he stared. and then—you screamed.
startled, he jolted, while you turned away, covering your face with yami in a poor attempt to shield yourself. “woah– what’s wrong? are you okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned. you peeked through strands of fur and caught sight of the problem—he was wearing nothing but boxers.
he followed your gaze and immediately covered himself with his hands.
“i-i’m so sorry! wait a minute! please don’t go anywhere!” he blurted out, vanishing inside in a blur of limbs and embarrassment. you remained where you stood, cheeks warm, yami still cradled in your arms.
what could you say? he told you to stay put. you were weak when it comes to pretty faces.
soon, you heard shuffling, then footsteps. the door slid open again, revealing him—shirt half on, hair tousled, but now fully clothed and smiling softly.
“hi. i'm sorry about earlier... you must be the new neighbor. my name's jungwon,” he said, voice laced with warmth as he smiled at you. you nearly melted on the spot. that smile was dangerous.
“yes, i moved in just yesterday,” you replied, stumbling over your words. “you must be mine—i mean, my neighbor. i'm y/n, how long have you been living here?”
he chuckled at your flustered tone, leaning against the balcony railing with casual charm. “only two weeks. my university’s nearby—classes start next month.”
“wait, university?” you asked, placing yami carefully on the railing. “are you going to grand horizon university?” his brows rose in pleasant surprise. “yeah. you too?” you nodded, and he laughed—an easy, melodic sound that made your heart flip a little.
“wow, so we’re neighbors and we’re going to the same university. what’s your course though? if we end up in the same one, i might have to believe in soulmates.”
“bsba hrm. business administration, human resource management. you?” as soon as he heard your response, he playfully feigned despair. “damn it. we almost had it. my course is bs arch, bachelor of science in architecture.”
“oh no! i could’ve been your soulmate!” you whined dramatically, jokingly feigning despair before burying your face into yami’s fur. “i mean, i could just steal you right now,” you whispered towards yami with a playful pout.
his laughter rang out again, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watched you. “i see yami’s chosen you,” he said, feigning betrayal. “she’s always sneaking over to your balcony—even before you moved in. what’s wrong with mine, huh yami?”
she meowed back as if answering him, prompting a theatrical gasp from him. “young lady, i did not raise you to be this way!”
you laughed, the ease of the moment wrapping around you like a warm breeze. “you really do give off cat dad energy.” he smiled, softer now. “i’ve always loved cats. ever since i was a kid.”
“i can tell,” you said, continuing to stroke yami gently. suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket. you glanced down, eyes widening as you read the message.
“oh shit, i forgot,” you muttered, quickly typing out a reply. “what’s wrong?” he asked, concern returning to his features. “my furniture’s being delivered soon—they’re already on the way.”
“do you need help?”
you hesitated. “we just met…”
“i don’t actually mind helping you,” he said casually, the corners of his mouth curving into a smug little grin. “i’ve got nothing planned today anyway, so why not? besides, it’s good practice. i am going to be an architect one day, after all.”
he proudly jabbed a thumb toward himself, as if telling you to count on him.
you raised an eyebrow, arms loosely folded, amusement already dancing in your eyes. “so basically… you’re using me?”
his smirk faltered in real-time, his confidence visibly crumbling as his eyes widened. “w-what? no! that’s not what i meant.” his hand flew to his chest in mock (or maybe real) panic. “i swear, i wasn’t trying to exploit your interior design crisis for academic gain.”
a laugh burst out of you before you could stop it, light and full of mischief. “i’m just messing with you.”
he blinked, then exhaled the breath he didn’t know he was holding. his arms folded tightly across his chest in mild protest, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “you shouldn’t do that,” he muttered, half-pouting. “i’m too young to have a heart attack.”
“okay, okay, my bad.” you said, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “so… later? should i just come out here and call you?”
he shook his head with an amused smile, then extended his hand toward you. “can i see your phone for a sec?”
without hesitation—without even questioning it—you handed it to him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. there was something disarming about him, something that made you trust him almost too easily.
“i’ll give you my number,” he said, already typing away. “that way, you can call me whenever you need help—or if you just get bored and wanna bother someone.”
“oh right, why didn’t i think of that?” you mentally facepalmed yourself which made him grin. “maybe you just wanted an excuse to see my face.”
you chuckled, shaking your head. “see you later, jungwon.”
“yeah. see you,” he said, watching as you disappeared into your apartment.
he turned to yami and smiled, “time to go home, troublemaker.” and as if she understood, yami leapt down and trotted back inside without protest.
#⠀OO2⠀:⠀THE BARON PERSONIFIED.
you were halfway through organizing your closet, folding shirts into neat squares, and hanging jackets with a kind of casual precision when your phone buzzed softly on the nearby shelf. a message had come in from the delivery crew scheduled to bring your furniture.
you dropped the shirt that you were currently folding, grabbed your phone, and typed out a quick reply, telling them you'd meet them at the lobby of the building.
you lingered on your home screen for a moment. your thumb hovered above your contact list before scrolling deliberately. it stopped on a name that made your stomach twist in the gentlest way: jungwon (yami’s dad).
a quiet pause stretched in your apartment. were you really about to message him just because he said he would love to help you?
you barely knew him. you had only just met. and yet—there was something about him. something warm. maybe it was the way he smiled, or how his eyes held a softness behind the amusement. maybe you just wanted to see yami again. it didn’t matter.
all you knew was that something about him made you want to be closer. maybe as friends. maybe even... more.
you blinked at the screen, startled. he replied almost instantly.
so he really had nothing else going on today? or—was he just expecting a message from you? you shook your head quickly, trying to dispel the thought before it bloomed further.
but still, you could imagine it vividly—him smiling down at his phone, thumb tapping lightly as he responded to you.
no. stop.
you sat up straighter and forced your mind back to the task. you needed to be direct, nothing more.
you:
so, about your offer earlier…
are you still up for it? 😅
you groaned quietly and placed a palm over your face.
“why are you like this?” you muttered to yourself. “you said something straightforward! ‘my furniture is arriving.’ easy. simple. what is this awkward, drawn-out attempt at conversation?”
but there was no taking it back now. all you could do was wait.
jungwon (yami's dad):
yes, of course.
are they on their way?
wanna go to the lobby together?
your heart thudded—once, loud and embarrassingly dramatic, like a clumsy drummer missing his cue in an otherwise silent theater.
he was just being polite, you told yourself, mentally pinching your temples. don’t romanticize this. don’t blow it out of proportion. don’t be that person.you tried to tame the fluttering in your chest with logic.
it’s just to the lobby.
it’s not a date.
you:
sure, let's meet up in the corridor after 5 mins?
jungwon (yami's dad):
sure, see you y/n :))
you locked your phone and stood there for a moment. and then, for reasons you didn’t want to admit even to yourself, you headed for the bathroom.
just to check.
you fussed with your hair a little, fixed your clothes even if they were fine, and made sure you didn’t look like someone who had spent all morning battling a closet before heading to your door.
you inhaled deeply and opened the door.
and there he was—already in front of your apartment, hand raised mid-air, ready to knock.
both of you flinched ever so slightly in surprise, but he recovered quickly, offering a sheepish smile as he dropped his hand and rubbed the back of his neck.
“hey,” he said, soft and casual, “i was just about to knock.” you laughed quietly, tilting your head with a playful glint in your eye. “missed me already?”
he blinked, visibly caught off guard. the tips of his ears reddened slightly as he struggled to find a response. you patted his shoulder and let out a light laugh. “kidding. payback for earlier.”
you turned with a swish, closing the door behind you with a satisfying click before heading toward the elevator. you didn’t need to look back to know he was following—his quiet footsteps and faint muttering confirmed it. still trying to shake the leftover embarrassment off like dust on his hoodie.
as the elevator doors slid closed, trapping you both in a space much too small for subtle tension, he glanced over and quipped, “was that your attempt at flirting? i gotta admit—kind of impressive.”
you flipped your hair dramatically, chin lifted in mock arrogance. “there are layers to me, you haven't even scratched the surface yet.”
“hmm,” he mused, voice dropping just a bit, “maybe i should take this chance to... get to know some of those layers.”
you blinked, unsure if he was still playing along or testing the waters. then he moved—closer. casually, but with purpose. instinctively, you backed away, your spine soon pressed to the cool steel wall of the elevator. your gaze darted to the reflection, catching the smirk on his face as he slowly boxed you in.
your hand flew to his chest, trying to create some space between the two of you while laughing nervously. “hahaha… okay, message received. i surrender. no more teasing, scout’s honor.”
but he didn’t budge. instead, he leaned in further, one arm resting against the wall beside you in a textbook, dramatically cliché kabe-don. your laughter turned from amused to slightly panicked, and you looked up at him with wide eyes.
“jungwon,” you warned, voice tight with laughter and disbelief.
he tried holding a serious expression, but your nervous giggle, the slight tremble in your voice—it cracked him. a tiny snort escaped before he lost it completely, his shoulders shaking as he leaned against the wall, laughter spilling out like he'd been holding it in all day.
his laugh was ridiculous—eyes squeezed shut, gums showing, hands on his knees—and somehow it made you laugh too, even as you smacked his arm in mock offense.
“you’re the worst!” you said and playfully smacked his arm again.
“i’m sorry!” he wheezed, half-laughing, half-apologizing. “your reactions are just so priceless!”
he stumbled out of the elevator still breathless from laughter, while you followed, glaring holes into the back of his head. you were so focused on sulking that you didn’t even notice you’d reached the lobby—until you stopped short, your eyes wide in disbelief.
“oh my god…” you murmured, halting in your steps.he paused too, following your gaze.
two delivery men were hauling in an enormous box, followed closely by another two carrying what appeared to be your couch. they lined everything up right in front of you, almost ceremoniously.
“are you miss y/n?” one of the delivery men asked, clipboard balanced in his hand, his voice loud enough to rise over the subtle grunts and shifting boxes. behind him, two others climbed back into the truck, retrieving the next round of cargo.
you blinked, caught off guard, then straightened your posture a little. “y-yes, that’s me.”
“great. we’ll just need to know which floor your apartment is on so we can start moving everything up.”
you exhaled, a breath you didn’t realize you were holding slipping out in quiet relief. “thank goodness. it’s the fifth floor. we can help carry things too—if that’s alright?” your gaze slid over to jungwon, almost instinctively seeking his confirmation.
jungwon, who had been standing beside you with a relaxed stance and mild amusement tugging at his lips, nodded without hesitation. “yes, sir. we’ll help.”
as soon as the movers turned away, jungwon leaned closer, trying—and spectacularly failing—not to laugh under his breath. “looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”
“i’m so sorry,” you said with a wince, brows knitting together. “i really didn’t think they were delivering the heavy stuff today.”
he let out a soft laugh and reached over to ruffle your hair, the gesture both gentle and teasing. “don’t worry about it. i did sign up for this, remember?”
and he wasn’t lying. not once did he complain—not during the multiple elevator trips, not while hauling boxes that made your arms ache, not even when one of the furniture legs jabbed him squarely in the side.
the hours blurred together after that, marked by clunky footsteps, the hum of the elevator, the occasional hiss of packing tape, and intermittent bursts of shared laughter. jungwon, despite claiming in one of your conversations in the elevator that he wasn’t much of a gym guy, turned out to be surprisingly sturdy. you started suspecting he’d been modest on purpose.
by the time you picked up the final box—a small one, feather-light in comparison, probably filled with decor—aesthetic trinkets you ordered on impulse.
while convincing yourself they’d spark joy—your body felt like jelly, and your clothes were clinging to you in all the wrong places.
as the elevator doors opened once more to reveal the familiar hallway of your floor, you spotted jungwon already walking ahead. he glanced over his shoulder, noticed the box in your arms, and immediately turned around, meeting you halfway.
without a word, he took it from you like it weighed nothing. “is this the last one?” he asked, a slight sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead, though his tone remained light.
“yep,” you sighed as you practically collapsed onto the couch—still in its protective plastic wrap. “i even tipped the movers. they were incredible.”
he set the box down carefully beside the others and turned to look at you, hands on his hips. “you, my neighbor, are officially moved in.”
you stretched your legs out, dramatically groaning. “and officially dead.”
jungwon laughed, stepping over a few rogue packing peanuts. “well at least you're lucky that i’m here. no one helped me when i got here two weeks ago.”
you chuckled softly at what he said before rising from the couch, arms stretching toward the ceiling in a lazy arc. your muscles protested after the day’s exertion, but there was a strange sort of satisfaction in the ache.
jungwon simply watched you with a small, amused smile, arms loosely crossed as if observing a particularly entertaining scene.
“now i just need to make my bed,” you declared, almost too cheerfully for someone who was just complaining earlier.
with that, you disappeared into your bedroom. you knelt beside a suspiciously large box, its contents rattling slightly when touched, and retrieved a booklet—the so-called instruction manual.
it was written in english, accompanied by a series of overly simplified diagrams. but as you flipped through the pages, trying to decipher the minimalistic illustrations and vague arrows, it may as well have been written in some ancient, long-forgotten dialect of confusion. your eyes scanned the page again. and again.
meanwhile, jungwon had casually leaned against the doorway, arms still folded, watching your face contort in quiet, increasingly dramatic dismay.
“need help?” he asked, voice laced with amusement and concern.
you got startled slightly, not having noticed him there. “uh, no—it’s fine. you’ve helped a lot already. i can probably do this on my own.” you added that last part as if trying to convince yourself more than him.
he tilted his head, unconvinced. “are you sure?”
you straightened your back and gave him the most dignified nod you could muster. “yes. i am a grown, independent woman. i’ve got this.”
you did not, in fact, got this.
jungwon chuckled and raised both hands in mock surrender. “alright, alright. i’ll be in the living room. just yell if you decide being independent is overrated.”
time passed. slowly. excruciatingly. nearly twenty minutes ticked by in silence—no clinking of metal, no triumphant exclamations, not even the soft thud of progress. it was suspiciously quiet.
jungwon frowned, pushing himself off the couch just in time to see you emerge from your room, manual clutched tightly in both hands, looking utterly defeated.
“how was the—”
“i need help,” you blurted out, cutting him off mid-sentence before he could even finish the question.
your voice came out quicker than expected, as if your pride had loosened its grip just long enough to let the words slip. it hung awkwardly in the air for a moment, raw and slightly sheepish.
you looked at him, eyes flicking away almost instantly, heat blooming at the tips of your ears. you couldn't even bring yourself to pretend confidence anymore—not after your earlier declaration, so full of misplaced bravado, insisting that you were perfectly capable of handling the bed assembly yourself.
it was a bold statement, one born of pride, your morning coffee just kicking in, and maybe a little bit of delusion.
but now? now you were standing in front of him with your metaphorical tail between your legs, internally mourning the fact that you were not, in fact, handy manny.
not even close.
you were more like... mildly useful martha. and even that was pushing it.
he tried not to smile, really, he did. “you could’ve just said that earlier,” he said, gently taking the manual from your hands.
“i really tried,” you muttered.he glanced at you over the top of the manual, a small grin playing at his lips. then, without another word, he turned and strode into your room.
you followed closely behind, watching as he crouched by the chaotic spread of parts and began sorting them with methodical precision, muttering to himself as he matched bolts and boards like a puzzle savant.
“i can help,” you said, straightening up quickly. “just tell me what to do.”
he paused, glanced back at you with a twinkle in his eye, and then nodded. “for now, i need water.”
“on it.”
you all but dashed into the kitchen, grabbing a cold bottle and returning before handing it with both hands. he accepted it with a soft “thanks,” cracking it open before taking a long drink.
“ready to work?”
you nodded with newfound determination.
“here,” he said, handing you a pair of worn gloves. “i borrowed these from the movers. forgot to return them. figured they’d come in handy.”
you chuckled as you slipped them on, flexing your fingers like those doctors in the er. side by side, the two of you worked—the architect and the apprentice. he guided, you assisted. you handed him screws, held up wooden planks, occasionally squinted at the manual just to feel involved.
and slowly, piece by piece, what once looked like chaos began to take form—a bed, real and sturdy, built with mismatched gloves, a little teamwork, and just the right amount of shared frustration.
when he tightened the last bolt with a satisfying click, he straightened, brushed imaginary dust from his hands, and gave you a triumphant grin.
“we’re done,” he declared, the pride in his voice unmistakable.
you let out a joyful laugh and raised your hand for a high-five, which he met with a satisfying smack.
“thank you! seriously, i was already considering crashing on the couch tonight,” you said, half-laughing as you shoved the mattress onto the freshly assembled frame.
he jumped in to help, shoulder bumping yours playfully. “glad i saved you from such a tragic end.”
and then, without warning, he flopped dramatically onto the mattress, limbs splayed like a starfish.
“just testing if it's sturdy enough,” he said, though the way he rolled over like a child suggested otherwise. after a few experimental bounces, he sat up with a lopsided grin. “yep. solid. i approve.”
you chuckled, shaking your head as you walked toward the kitchen to grab water. he trailed after you, before settling himself on one of the stools like he belonged there.
“do you need help with anything else?” he asked, chin resting on his hand, eyes quietly curious.
you shook your head, brushing a stray hair from your cheek. “just have to unpack the rest now.”
he hummed softly, tapping his fingers against the counter in thought. after a beat of silence, he asked—casually, but with something delicate beneath his tone—“so... should i go now?”
you blinked, caught off guard. his voice may have been light, but his eyes held something softer. something almost... hopeful.
your cheeks warmed. you tried to play it cool, aiming for casual even as your pulse betrayed you. “i mean, you can stay for a bit. if you want.”
his whole face lit up, like someone just told him he won a prize he didn't realize he’d been hoping for.
“really?” he said, clearly delighted. “i could help decorate! i have amazing taste.”
he leaned forward eagerly, and as he did, you studied his face a little closer. the curve of his cheekbones, the way his eyes narrowed when he smiled—it struck you suddenly.
“you look like yami,” you murmured before you could stop yourself. then, tilting your head, you added, “no... you look like a cat.”
he blinked, caught off guard.
“you look like her when she stares at me before leaping from your balcony to mine?” you said, overly amused with your discovery.
then, without thinking—driven by some strange mix of affection and amusement—you reached up and gently patted his head. his hair was soft, messier than usual from the day’s effort. his ears turned a very telling shade of red.
realizing what you were doing, you jerked your hand back like you’d touched fire, suddenly hyperfocused on your water bottle as if it held all the wisdom of the cosmos.
he looked at you, smiling—soft, teasing, a little smug. “i guess that means you think i’m cute.”
you inhaled, squinting at him. “you know what—”
“nope,” he cut in, grinning. “you can’t take it back. it’s already out there. said and sealed.”
you groaned into your hands while he laughed, clearly reveling in your reaction.
then—quietly, almost under his breath, like a secret slipping through the cracks—he added, “you’re cute too.”
you heard it. of course you did. but you pretended not to, eyes still on your bottle.
just then, a soft tap interrupted the moment.you both turned toward the balcony door.
there, standing as regally as ever, was yami—pawing at the glass with the self-assurance of someone who knew she was always welcome.
“this cat,” jungwon muttered under his breath as he pushed himself off the stool to go let her in.
you watched him, heart beating just a little too loud in your chest, wondering when exactly your day turned into something this warm.
the rest of the afternoon was a blur of laughter and shifting furniture. jungwon stayed the whole time, helping arrange the apartment into something that finally felt like home.
hours slipped by like water through fingers. the sun had begun its slow descent behind the city skyline, casting golden streaks of light across the walls, like the final brushstrokes on a canvas nearly complete.
“i kept you here all afternoon,” you murmured, voice laced with guilt as you watched him pick up yami and cradle her in his arms.
he glanced at you and smiled, as if you’d said something ridiculous. “i offered, remember? besides—now you owe me a meal.”
you hesitated, brushing your fingers along the back of the newly positioned couch. “still...”
“seriously, it’s fine.” he leaned slightly against the doorframe, one hand gently supporting yami as she blinked slowly in his arms. “i gained something too—real life experience, and memories. it was a good day.”
your lips curled into a quiet smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “thank you. if it weren’t for you, i’d probably still be halfway through building that bed… or curled up on the couch in defeat.”
he laughed—a soft, genuine sound that echoed lightly. “you're welcome. we should head out. it’s her dinner time.”
“right,” you said, nodding. “i’ll walk you out.”
you walked him and yami to the door, then stood there as they walked to their apartment. when they reached their door, he turned and gave you a small wave.
you waved back, watching as he disappeared into his apartment with yami nestled against his chest.
and just like that, the quiet returned—but it wasn’t empty anymore.
your apartment, once bare and impersonal, now pulsed with a quiet kind of life. furniture in all the right places, walls still glowing with the last remnants of sunset, and the faint trace of laughter still lingering in the air.
you smiled to yourself, chest humming with the flutter of something sweet and uncertain.
back in your room, you began preparing your bed, smoothing the sheets with more care than usual. but your mind wasn’t on the task. not really. his words from earlier kept floating back to you, uninvited but welcome nonetheless:
“now you owe me a meal.”
you bit your lip, fingers pausing on the edge of the blanket.should you cook something? would he expect that? or would taking him out be more... casual?
you glanced at your phone on the nightstand, heart tapping lightly against your ribs.when in doubt—ask the expert.
you grabbed the phone and typed quickly, thumbs flying as you sent the message to the one person who always seemed to know what to do.
you:
hey, can we meet up tomorrow?
you stared at the screen for a beat longer, then set the phone down with a small sigh.
taglist⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀ @morganaawriterr @wondoras @mypolka @meowwwon @dolliehue @in-somnias-world @yjwonsgf @kirijuns @iifrui @momisanalien @vieniee @drunkjazed @hhyvsstuff @readinmidnight @noona-neomu-yeppeo @cutehoons02 @robotinvenus @starfallia @nijisanjigenshin @kkamismom12 @kinamurariki @soobundle1009 @supershy3 @nodoubtily (taglist is still open, comment to be added.)
final notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed! part three will be posted on saturday! see you guys then!
also, to those who don't know who the baron is, i shall provide a picture.
SYNOPSIS⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀starting college in a new city, you’re settling into your apartment and trying to make it feel like home. on your first day, a fluffy calico cat appears on your neighbor's balcony, jumping towards yours as if to greet you, stealing your heart instantly. but when a voice calls out for the cat from the next balcony, panic sets in—you rush back inside, too shy to meet your new neighbor. that neighbor turns out to be yang jungwon, a fellow student in the same university who’s also new in town. thanks to his mischievous and adventurous cat, the two of you keep running into each other in the most unexpected ways. a friendship blossoms, slowly turning into something deeper—though jungwon keeps insisting it’s nothing more than friendship. as feelings grow stronger, the question remains: will their bond turn into something more—or remain just a college memory?
⠀
⠀
pairing⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀college student!yang jungwon x college student!f.reader.
featuring⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀all enhypen members (soon), le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon (soon), aespa winter and karina (soon).
word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀2.241k
genre⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, kinda slow burn, college life, university life, slice of life, comedy (although i don't find myself funny), friendships, relationships, and the cat distribution system. (it has chosen you and gave you two lovely cats.)
warnings⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀drinking alcohol, parties, getting drunk (obviously), misunderstandings, jealousy, denial (jungwon is in denial), lots of flirting and tension, cat keeps breaking into your apartment, kissing, skinship, reader (aka us) is very delusional and does a lot of overthinking, a bit cringe (i think it's cringe bcs i wrote it), and might contain suggestive content in the later parts that are yet to be posted. lowercase letters intended. very proofread. tell me if i'm missing anything.
mæw's notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀hi guys, this will be my very first enhypen au / fanfic here in tumblr. i will be cutting this fanfic in multiple parts instead of posting it all at once because it already has a word count of 40k.
i am still new to this so i will surely make mistakes. please be patient with me and i hope you guys enjoy my work. this story will be added to my masterlist.
also, don't even try copy-pasting my work into an ai detection website, because i already tried it and it still said that parts of it was written by ai, even though i literally wrote it on my phone in front of my cousin.
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated.
⠀
library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part two.
⠀
“are you completely certain you have everything, sweetheart?” your mother asks for what feels like the hundredth time, her voice tinged with both worry and affection. you can’t help but chuckle softly, rolling your eyes in fond exasperation as you roll two suitcases out through the front door.
behind you, she follows closely, reciting the list of college essentials she helped you pack, while your father lingers not far behind.
“mom, for the tenth time—literally—you packed with me. you know i’ve got everything,” you reply, turning to face her. she frowns slightly, reluctantly folding her list and slipping it into her pocket.
she reaches for your hands and clasps them tightly, as though letting go meant letting you go forever. “i’m sorry, sweetie. i just can’t help but worry. i’m going to miss you so much,” she says, her eyes already glistening with unshed tears.
you felt your heart ache as you pulled her into a hug, wrapping your arms around her as tight as you can. “oh, mom...” you murmured, voice muffled in her hair, “i’m going to miss you, too. and dad. and everyone. but this isn’t goodbye forever, okay? it’s just college—four years, tops. i’ll be back before you even realize i’m gone.” you reassured her while smiling.
“is it my turn now?” came your dad’s voice from behind, cutting through the moment with the kind of comedic timing only he had. you turned to him, confused.
“yes, honey, go ahead,” your mother says with a small smile, eyes still misty.
he cleared his throat, stepped forward like he was preparing a speech, and asked, “are you absolutely certain the place you’re renting is fully furnished?”
you blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the practicality of his concern, but nodded. “yeah, dad. it is. i saw the pictures online, and the landlord sent us updated ones too. you showed them to me, remember?”
“it’s got the basics: a living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, a little dining area, even a mini walk-in closet. and a balcony,” you added, lifting your eyebrows as if that would finally put his mind at ease. “some furniture’s getting delivered tomorrow, but other than that, i’m all set.”
still, you know deep down they won’t stop worrying—not really. it’s just what parents do.
so you took their hands, holding them like you were anchoring the three of you in that little moment.
“mom. dad. i know you're worried. i really do. and i get it. but i have to do this—for me. for my future. remember how we talked about this?” you said softly, giving their hands a small swing.
they sighed, looking down at the pavement as if it held some kind of comfort. your mom’s lips trembled as she said, “i just can’t believe my baby girl’s going to college. it feels like just yesterday you were painting rocks in daycare and telling us they were ‘magical artifacts.’”
you laughed as she started to cry again, and without missing a beat, your dad stepped forward, wrapping the both of you in a warm, protective hug. the three of you stood there for a few seconds in silence—breathing each other in like this was the last chance you’d get.
“i promise i’ll visit when i can,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “and if anything happens, i’ll come running back home. always.”
your mom sniffled loudly, then pulled away just enough to cup your cheek. “nothing will happen to you. you hear me? you’re going to be fine. just... don’t stress too much. and don’t let yunjin drag you into too many parties. you know how she is.”
your dad nodded in agreement. “yeah. remember—college is about studying, not setting new records for the number of red cups you can balance.”
you burst into laughter, shaking your head. “you guys are unbelievable. i’m your daughter, remember? i’ve got at least some common sense.”
“barely,” your dad muttered, and you playfully elbowed him in the ribs.
amidst the bittersweet laughter, the sound of a car pulling up interrupts the moment.
“oh! that’s my uber,” you say, adjusting your backpack. “dad, can you help with my suitcases?”
“on it, bud,” he said, already hoisting both bags with that exaggerated dad-strength that never failed to impress you.
he waved to the driver, who rolled up to the curb. the trunk popped open, and your dad loaded everything in then dusted off his hands and turned back. “is that everything?” he asked.
“yes, dad. i’m going to college, not new york fashion week,” you tease, earning amused chuckles from both of them.
they escort you to the car, your mom opening the door for you. but as you settled in, she suddenly tapped gently on your window. you roll it down.
“yes, mom?”
she leaned in. “sir,” she said, addressing the uber driver with a gravity that made you look at her in confusion, “if my daughter says she’s feeling dizzy or needs a break, please pull over.”
“also, you’re going to the right address, yes?” your dad added, stepping in like he was interrogating a suspect.
you let out a groan and sank into your seat, using your backpack as a shield to hide your face. “guys, seriously...”
“and don’t drive too fast or weave between cars,” your mom continued. “please drive safely. she’s very precious cargo.”
“okay mom! dad! i love you both! please let the poor man do his job,” you said quickly, waving goodbye before whispering to the driver, “you can go now. before they make me wear bubble wrap.”
the driver chuckles as the car pulls away. you lean out the window, waving until your parents become small figures in the distance.
“i’ll call when i get there!” you shout back before sinking into your seat, heart full and heavy all at once. you breathe in slowly, gaze drifting out the window.
you can do this. it’s not going to be that hard... right?
⠀
⠀
after what felt like an eternity of winding roads, shifting scenery, and the soft hum of tires against asphalt, you finally arrived. the car rolled to a gentle stop in front of the building that would now be your new home for the next four years of your life.
you turned your head toward the window, eyes tracing the unfamiliar landscape, taking it all in—wide sidewalks dappled in sunlight, joggers weaving between pedestrians, laughter spilling from a group of cyclists, someone playing fetch with a very enthusiastic golden retriever.
the air held a certain freedom you hadn't even realized you'd been craving until now. it smelled like possibility, like the beginning of something beautifully unknown.
“alright, ma’am. we’ve arrived. would you like help with your suitcases?” the driver’s voice interrupted gently, his tone patient, practiced.
you blinked yourself out of your daze, glancing at the man in the rearview mirror before answering, “yes, please. just to the entrance would be great. thank you.”
you stepped out of the car, greeted by the sight of the tall, clean-lined building. you took a breath—deep, grounding—then turned to help the driver with your bags. the two of you wheeled the suitcases together toward the entrance.
you then turned to him, pulling out a small amount of cash. “thank you so much. really. and here—this is a little extra for putting up with my parents earlier.”
he let out a warm laugh as he accepted the tip. “ah, it was nothing. i’ve got kids myself. i know how it feels to watch them grow up.”
you smiled, heart swelling. “well, if they’ve got a dad like you, i’m sure they’re growing up wonderfully.”
“that’s kind of you to say. stay safe, ma’am.”
“you too, please drive safely,” you said with a grateful nod, before turning your attention to the double glass doors ahead of you. “alright... let’s do this.”
you mumbled to yourself as you wrestled your bags inside. the first thing that greeted you was the hum of the lobby’s air conditioner and a wall of metallic lockers neatly lined up to your right.
“oh thank god, elevators,” you sighed, eyeing the silver doors to the side. but before you headed up, you pulled out your phone to reread your landlord’s message, squinting at the little instructions tucked inside a cheerful block of text.
⠀
landlord 🏘️:
good day, miss y/n. here are a few instructions before entering your apartment.
on the first floor, you’ll see multiple lockers designated for deliveries and mail.
please locate locker no.508. that will be your personal locker. inside, you’ll find the keys for all the doors inside your apartment and all necessary passcodes, especially the passcode of your apartment.
the passcode to unlock your locker is 0628.
thank you again for choosing us. we hope you enjoy your stay, and please don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions.
⠀
with a determined nod, you pocketed your phone and made your way through the lobby towards the right where the lockers are. polished silver doors with numbers engraved in neat rows. you scanned quickly until your eyes landed on 508.
you keyed in the code with a quiet click, and the locker door swung open.
inside were all the essentials: a set of keys, neatly labeled passcodes on a printed sheet, a few manuals for the appliances, and a small envelope titled 'welcome to your new home'.
“keys, check. passcodes, check. instructions, check. emotionally prepared? debatable,” you muttered, collecting everything before shutting the locker.
you hauled your bags into the elevator and pressed the button for the fifth floor. the soft hum of the elevator was oddly comforting, a brief moment of stillness.
the doors opened with a quiet chime, revealing an empty, serene corridor lined with identical doors. you walked slowly, counting off the numbers until you reached 508 once again—this time, your door.
you typed in the passcode, heart thudding with an unfamiliar mix of nerves and excitement. a soft beep, a click, and the door opened.
your eyes widen.
“oh god. this is really happening,” you whispered, stepping inside.
the apartment was... perfect. minimal but welcoming, clean lines and cozy corners. the sunlight streamed in from the windows, dancing across the hardwood floors.
you grinned, walking deeper into your new space. “it’s even better in person! it really has everything i—wait... the balcony!” your voice shot up an octave, already halfway to the glass doors.
you threw your backpack aside and stepped out onto the balcony. the breeze kissed your skin as you exhaled slowly, taking in the view. you pulled out your phone and took a handful of photos—one of the scenery, one of the sky, two of your grinning face—ready to send them to your parents with a reassuring caption.
you were about to hit send when you heard a small sound, high and soft.
“meow.”
you froze.
you turn, the sight before you making you gasp. sitting on the next apartment's balcony is the fluffiest calico cat you’ve ever seen. “oh my gosh, hi sweet angel– no, wait! don’t jump–” but it’s too late. with the grace of a furry ninja, she leapt from one balcony to yours, landing with a perfect thud and zero regrets.
you blinked. “well. who am i to reject a royal visit?”
you kneel and gently stroke her fur before completely sitting down on the floor. “what’s your name?” you murmur. as if on cue, the cat shifts, revealing her collar. “yami? aww, what a lovely name.”
she nestled into your lap like you were long-lost friends. you let out a delighted gasp, “oh no. not the cuteness. you’re too powerful,” you whispered, gently running your fingers through her fur, trying not to explode from cuteness aggression. the last thing you wanted was to scare her away.
you had no idea how much time passed. minutes? hours? you didn’t care. it was just you and yami, and the world could wait.
until—
“yami?”
you flinched.
the voice was male. close. way too close. and getting closer.
you got startled, which in turn startled the cat—violating the sacred cat law: if a cat sits on your lap, you don’t move. ever. but you did. and now you felt like an unforgivable criminal.
“yami,” the voice called again, now just on the other side of the glass. “there you are. what are you doing? hanging out on our neighbor’s balcony again?”
you peeked ever so slightly through the curtain. the guy was in a hoodie, the hood over his head, and pajama pants, hair sticking out, probably tousled like he’d just woken up. he also sounded young so he's probably close to your age. he crouched down and scratched yami behind the ears, completely unaware of your presence.
“are you excited to meet our new neighbor?” he asked the cat, who meowed back in response, tail flicking happily.
he laughed to himself and disappeared back into his apartment.
you exhale, not realizing you’d held your breath. ‘why did i even hide?’ you scold yourself. ‘i didn’t do anything wrong.’
shaking the embarrassment away, you pull your suitcases into your bedroom. it’s bare, except for a mattress, blanket, and a few pillows. your furniture will arrive tomorrow.
you sigh and begin to unpack, preparing to shower and change into something more comfortable.
“this is going to be a long month,” you murmur to yourself, unaware that this—this quiet, chaotic beginning—was only the start.
⠀
⠀
taglist⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀ @morganaawriterr @wondoras @mypolka @meowwwon @dolliehue @in-somnias-world @yjwonsgf @kirijuns @iifrui @momisanalien @vieniee @drunkjazed @hhyvsstuff @readinmidnight @noona-neomu-yeppeo @cutehoons02 @robotinvenus @starfallia (taglist is still open)
final note⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed, part two will be posted next saturday. thank you so much for reading.
pairing⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀college student!yang jungwon x college student!f.reader.
featuring⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀all enhypen members, le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon.
word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀11.445k
genre⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, kinda slow burn, college life, university life, slice of life, comedy (although i don't find myself funny), friendships, relationships, and the cat distribution system. (it has chosen you and gave you two lovely cats.)
warnings⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀SUGGESTIVE, drinking alcohol, parties, mentions of bars, getting drunk (obviously), misunderstandings, jealousy, denial (jungwon is in denial), cowardice behavior (jungwon is still a bit of a coward), lots of flirting and tension, teasing, lots of planning and scheming, kissing, skinship, mentions of surgery, mentions of cat sickness/illness/disease, reader (aka us) is very delusional and does a lot of overthinking. lowercase letters intended. proofread. tell me if i'm missing anything.
mæw's notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀hi guys, part seven is finally up! i hope you guys enjoy it—we’re getting close to the end of tcds! we're finally at the suggetive parts of the fanfiction! thank you so much for your love and support!
i’m also gonna apologize. you guys obviously don't know why i’m apologizing, you'll find out soon.
also, this is jungwon's outfit inspiration.
library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part one. part two. part three. part four. part five. part six.
#⠀OO8⠀:⠀STAY HERE AFTER HOURS.
you were now nestled into your solo couch, your posture straight yet your mind anything but composed. internally, you were trying to find the perfect words to explain yourself. meanwhile, across from you, your three friends sat like a panel of judges, each one silently interrogating you with their eyes—sharp, knowing, unyielding.
you didn’t meet their gaze. not because you felt guilty. no, of course not. definitely not. you simply… couldn’t multitask. yes, that was it. (a lie, and a feeble one at that.)
you glanced up eventually, only to find them with arms folded tightly across their chests and legs crossed in synchronized judgment. it was the kind of stance that screamed: start talking.
you inhaled deeply, as if pulling courage straight from your lungs, and began.
“okay… so you guys already know that after that—uh—balcony incident with jungwon, we weren’t talking, right?” you paused for a beat. “but… yami still visited me.”
at the mention of the fluffy calico, their expressions softened by a degree. of course they remembered yami. she had become a sort of unofficial fifth member in your friend group. they nodded, prompting you to continue.
“so, one evening,” you said, fingers fidgeting against the edge of your seat, “yami came over like she usually does, but something felt… off. i called her, but she didn’t come to me like she usually would. no meows, no slow little strut. she just lay there.”
the room fell still.
“when i got closer to her,” you continued, voice quieting with the weight of memory, “i realized she wasn’t just resting. she was weak. really weak. and then… she vomited.”
the collective irritation that had once lingered on your friends’ faces immediately gave way to worry. their arms dropped, eyes wide now with concern.
you nodded gently, understanding their reaction.
“i didn’t know what else to do. i couldn’t just sit there. so… i ran to jungwon’s apartment and called him,” you said, looking down at your hands. “we brought her to the veterinary hospital together.”
you explained how the vet diagnosed yami with closed pyometra, and as you gave them a simplified explanation of the condition—how dangerous and life-threatening it could be if left untreated—they listened intently, brows furrowed with concern.
“she needed immediate surgery,” you said softly. “while we waited, jungwon noticed that i’d come barefoot… i didn’t even realize. i was too panicked. he then suddenly kneeled in front of me and wiped my feet clean with a tissue—so gently—and helped me put on these hospital slippers he got by asking the hospital receptionist.”
you paused for a second, the memory of that moment still vivid, still warm.
“and then i just… broke down,” you admitted. “right there in the waiting room. and he didn’t hesitate. he held me. comforted me. and i started to think maybe… maybe he’s not a jerk. maybe he did what he did back then because there’s something inside him he hasn’t figured out yet. or something he’s afraid to admit.”
you dared a glance at your friends and caught the slight curve at the corners of their lips. they were trying not to smile. trying very, very hard. but the pink rising on your cheeks was definitely not helping your case.
you cleared your throat and pressed on.
“after yami’s surgery,” you said, voice lowering, “he apologized. like… really apologized. he asked to be my friend again and said he missed me.”
you might as well have set off fireworks with that sentence. your friends didn't say a word, but the room was buzzing with unspoken squeals and suppressed teasing. the kind that only best friends could master.
you shook your head with a shy laugh, covering your face briefly.
“anyway,” you continued, bringing it to a close, “after she was discharged, i kept helping him. mostly because i still felt responsible—i mean, she collapsed in my apartment. so whenever he had classes and i didn’t, i’d go over and look after her.”
the room fell into a contemplative hush.
you had told them everything. no lies. no embellishments. just truth wrapped in awkward emotions and soft memories. you weren’t sure if they were going to jump to forgiveness just yet, but you had laid everything bare. and somehow, it felt… a little lighter.
now all you could do was wait—for their verdict, their sarcasm, or maybe their unexpected grace.
the silence that followed was heavy but not hostile—more like the calm after a storm, when the sky is still processing what just passed. your friends sat there, slowly nodding, their minds clearly working through every detail you’d just poured out to them.
then, almost in unison, all three of them exhaled a long, synchronized sigh and turned their gazes toward you.
“okay,” yunjin said, her brows raised, tone gentle but inquisitive. “we get it now… but why didn’t you just tell us?”
you glanced down at your hands, suddenly fascinated by the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. your lips pouted on instinct. “i didn’t know how you guys would react,” you murmured. “i was scared you guys would get mad at me.”
they looked at you with a mixture of exasperation and fondness, shaking their heads as if you were a toddler who’d just confessed to sneaking cookies before dinner.
“if you just explained it to us from the start,” chaewon said, her head tilting in that sweet, knowing way of hers, “we would’ve absolutely understood.”
“i know,” you sighed, your pout deepening, “i’m really sorry, guys.”
“well,” kazuha chimed in, arms crossed like a bodyguard taking notes, “you two can be friends, sure… but if he hurts you again, i’m not above pulling a full john wick on him.”
you nodded solemnly, trying not to laugh. “he promised he wouldn’t. and actually… i found something out.”
you didn’t mean to sound mysterious, but your voice dipped into a whisper by the end—and naturally, your friends pounced like cats catching the scent of drama.
“what did you find out?” chaewon leaned forward, narrowing her eyes as they all noticed the very obvious blush now blooming across your cheeks.
you hesitated, only for a second, before confessing.
“so earlier, when i stopped by his apartment again… i kind of… accidentally overheard him talking to yami.”
“wait—like a cat therapist session?” yunjin asked, eyes wide in amused disbelief.
“yes,” you nodded, biting back a smile. “he was talking to her like she was his emotional support animal. which, in fairness, she kind of is.”
they leaned in even more, sensing the good part was about to begin.
“he was telling her about his feelings for me,” you said softly. “how confused he was about when they started but that he knew they were serious. he said that being around me made him feel… like he wanted to protect me. like i belonged in his life.”
there was a beat of silence before your friends exploded into delighted squeals, all restraint now officially out the window. they were blushing and bouncing in their seats, hands gripping your shoulders as if you might float away from the weight of their giddy joy.
“he even said he loved all the little things,” you added, smiling bashfully. “the lunch boxes, the post-its and reminders about yami's medicine, the way i take care of yami…”
“stop it right now or i might cry,” chaewon groaned, fanning her face dramatically.
“this is better than any drama we’ve ever watched,” yunjin whispered, looking genuinely moved.
“he said he didn’t want to lose me anymore,” you went on, “and that he wants me to be a part of his life for a long time.”
“ugh, marry him already,” kazuha grinned, practically vibrating from secondhand butterflies.
but just as the atmosphere turned dreamy and rose-colored, you hit them with the twist.
“but…” you said, dragging the word out with a sigh, “he also said he’s scared to confess. that i might not feel the same… or that i still hate him after what happened between us.”
their dreamy smiles instantly dropped into disappointed groans.
“seriously?” kazuha huffed. “he had us in the first half, not gonna lie.”
“just when i thought he had finally unlocked his main character energy,” yunjin muttered, shaking her head like a disapproving mother.
“he really folded at the finish line,” chaewon clicked her tongue. “typical.”
the three of them sat back, arms crossed, lips pursed like a council of judges who were now reviewing jungwon’s romantic application with a more critical eye.
you could only smile, cheeks still flushed, heart still fluttering—and now with your friends on your side, fully and completely.
“but you did say he already knows what he’s feeling, right?” yunjin asked, arching a brow as her gaze landed squarely on you.
you nodded, a bit sheepishly. “yeah… he said it out loud to yami.”
“then he just needs a little push,” she replied, her lips curving into a sly smile that instantly put everyone on alert.
you and the others turned to her, your expressions equal parts intrigued and suspicious—because when yunjin smiled like that, it usually meant someone was about to be dramatically emotionally compromised.
“what kind of push?” chaewon asked cautiously, squinting as if trying to read the fine print of a very dangerous contract.
instead of answering, yunjin slowly shifted her gaze toward chaewon and kazuha, who both immediately groaned in unison like they already know what's going to happen. they covered their faces with their hands, already bracing themselves for whatever insanity yunjin was about to drag them into.
you blinked, watching the exchange with mild confusion… until you glanced at yunjin, and she gave you that same smile. the one that said, ‘you’re not getting out of this either, babe.’
and that’s when it clicked.
the first part of the plan was a job only chaewon and kazuha could handle.
you inhaled sharply through your nose, a laugh threatening to spill. oh, this was about to be ridiculous.
“do you still need to be there for yami?” yunjin asked then, her voice slipping back into casual concern. “or is she mostly healed now?”
“mostly healed,” you said with a small nod. “i’ve just been dropping by their place to check on her. we’re not letting her go out to the balcony yet, just in case… better safe than sorry.”
they all nodded, understanding the quiet worry in your voice. even if she was better, yami’s sudden collapse had left a mark—a reminder of how quickly things could shift.
“perfect,” yunjin declared, clapping her hands once in triumph. “operation push jungwon to his limits and make him confess begins tomorrow. tell jungwon you’re busy, and don’t even think about mentioning that we know anything. act normal—suspiciously normal.”
the grin that followed was pure mischief. she looked like a villain in a drama who just got handed the perfect backstory for redemption.
you sighed, already exhausted by the mere idea of what tomorrow would bring. it was going to be a long day. but, you thought, as your friends began discussing their “battle plan” like generals preparing for war—it was also going to be kind of fun.
the next day arrived much faster than you'd hoped, and with it came a heavy flutter of nerves in your chest. yunjin’s plan, which had sounded bold and mischievous under the forgiving light of last night’s excitement, now felt real—terrifyingly real—in the sharp glare of morning.
the plan was simple in words but heavy in implications: chaewon and kazuha would finally approach sunoo and riki after not talking to them for two months. not to reveal everything, of course—just enough. they’d ask them to gather their entire friend group after dismissal at the design & arts café. everyone would be there.
everyone except jungwon.
and that was the whole point.
you were finally going to meet jungwon’s full circle of friends face to face. you'd known who they were, seen them across the courtyard or in passing on campus, but outside of heeseung and jay—who shared the same club as you, albeit a little tensely since the incident—you hadn't really interacted with any of them that much besides that day at the library.
today would be your official introduction. not just as a name they’ve heard from a distance, or the girl jungwon talks about all the time and used to ignore—but as you. the very real and authentic version of yourself.
you kept glancing down at your watch between lectures, your pulse speeding up with every tick. anxiety danced with excitement in your chest, and your legs practically itched to sprint the moment the professor so much as hinted at class dismissal.
the second you were free, you swept your things into your bag without any regard for order and rushed out of the classroom, already pulling out your phone to text him.
you:
hey! i won’t be able to come by today. i’ve got something to take care of.
i’ll check in on you and yami tomorrow instead!
his reply came almost instantly, as if he’d been waiting.
he even attached a gif of a very sad, very dramatic cat curling into a blanket. it made you snort softly in the hallway, drawing a few confused stares you were far too amused to care about.
you:
thank you! tell her i said i love her. 😽
you didn’t wait for another reply—you were already out the door.
by the time you reached the café, your heart was pounding for a whole new reason. through the glass windows, you spotted them immediately: the cluster of familiar faces, all gathered in one booth near the back. laughter floated into the street even through the glass. sunoo was clinging dramatically to chaewon’s arm, while she patted his head like an exhausted babysitter. kazuha was sipping something pink. riki, halfway through a laugh, was mid-spill with his drink. jay and heeseung were deep in conversation with jake, sunghoon, and yunjin.
you paused just outside the door to fix your appearance—fingers smoothing down your hair, adjusting the strap of your bag. you took one deep breath.
then, you pushed the door open.
the familiar chime of the café’s bell made heads turn, and yunjin’s face immediately lit up with something that could only be described as mischievous pride.
“our main character has arrived!” she announced with dramatic flair, throwing her arm out toward you as if she were introducing royalty.
instantly, every pair of eyes turned to you.
your breath caught for half a second as a blush spread across your cheeks. you walked quickly to the table and gave yunjin a gentle smack on the arm before slipping into the seat beside her. “stop it,” you whispered under your breath, cheeks still warm.
you then started to greet everyone and your greeting was met with easy smiles and cheerful hellos from the group. surprisingly warm ones, actually. sunoo even gave you a tiny wave with his fingers still looped around chaewon’s arm.
the first few minutes were light and easy. introductions flowed naturally—name, age, course, random facts—and the tension you’d been so worried about gradually melted into something almost comfortable. they were a lot less intimidating than you’d expected. chaotic, yes. loud, definitely. but kind.
after a while, yunjin clapped her hands once, her eyes glinting with something suspiciously close to drama.
“alright,” she said, her voice slicing through the chatter like a conductor calling for silence, “now that we’re all friends here… let’s get to the good part.”
“we just found out something rather interesting from our dear friend here,” yunjin said, her voice laced with playful mischief as she turned to face you with a knowing smirk. “care to share it with the class, y/n?”
all eyes shifted to you.
you could feel the weight of their attention settle across your shoulders like a velvet curtain being drawn back onstage. you sat up a little straighter, cleared your throat, and offered them a small, tentative smile.
“so…” you began, voice wavering slightly. “me and jungwon… we’re friends again.”
for a heartbeat, silence clung to the air like a held breath—then it shattered all at once.
“what?!” sunoo nearly shouted, releasing chaewon’s arm and leaning so far across the table you thought he might topple into your lap. his wide, incredulous eyes locked onto yours like you’d just told him the moon had fallen out of orbit.
you nodded, lips pressed into a sheepish line.
jungwon’s entire friend group reacted like a storm had passed through. some blinked in stunned disbelief. others exchanged glances, their expressions flickering between pleasantly surprised and thoroughly betrayed. apparently, none of them had been clued in—and judging by their reactions, they had not expected their famously emotionally constipated friend to suddenly mend the broken bridge between the two of you.
“don’t worry,” kazuha chimed in casually, sipping her drink like she was talking about the weather. “she didn’t tell us either. we literally caught her running out of jungwon’s apartment last night.”
chaos.
you might’ve laughed at the expressions around the table if you weren’t so mortified. jaws dropped. eyebrows flew up. and sunoo, especially, looked as if someone had just canceled his birthday.
they weren’t angry—not really. more like… betrayed, in a melodramatic, overly-invested-in-their-friend’s-love-life kind of way. the kind of betrayal that came from genuinely caring.
“he invited you to his apartment and didn’t even say a word?” sunoo whispered like it was a national scandal, clutching at his chest.
you almost wanted to apologize to him.
before anyone could spiral further, yunjin leaned forward again, her grin widening. “that’s not even the best part.”
you turned to her, already knowing what she meant. she didn’t have to say anything else. with a sigh of surrender, you nodded and addressed the table once more, this time with a touch more courage.
“so the reason i was running out of his apartment,” you began carefully, “was because i… kind of overheard something.”
you could feel the anticipation thickening around you, the way clouds gather before a storm.
“jungwon was in his room, talking to yami,” you explained, glancing briefly at sunoo, whose eyes widened even further. “and i didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really. i’d come back after finally sending my friends away, thinking they’d go home but they obviously didn't..”
chaewon and kazuha both nodded solemnly, the image of your frantic escape from jungwon's apartment still clearly fresh in their minds.
“but i heard him. he was talking to her like she was his little therapist,” you said, a fond smile curling at your lips. “and he… he said some things.”
you hesitated, cheeks warming.
“he talked about me. about us. he told her he wasn’t sure when exactly his feelings started, but that they’re real. he said he treasured the time we spent together, and… that he doesn’t want to lose me again.”
a hush fell over the table.
sunoo looked seconds away from crying, or screaming—or both. riki was slack-jawed. jay and heeseung exchanged stunned, quietly amused glances. while jake and sunghoon just blinked as they process what you just revealed.
“he even said,” you added softly, “that he’s scared to tell me how he feels. because he thinks… maybe i don’t like him back. or maybe i still hate him.”
sunoo let out a groan that could probably be heard from space.
“this man,” kazuha muttered, shaking her head. “just when we thought he was growing a spine.”
yunjin, though, was already getting down to business.
“exactly why we called you all here,” she said, clapping her hands as if to rally a squad. “he clearly knows how he feels. he’s just afraid to pull the trigger.”
she looked around the table, the strategist in her emerging with gleaming eyes. “and that’s where you guys come in.”
“you guys know jungwon better than anyone,” chaewon added, resting her chin on her hand. “do you have any ideas on how to finally get him to confess?”
there was a pause—just long enough for everyone to exchange a glance.
and then the brainstorming began.
after that eventful day at the café, you hadn’t expected the plan to roll out quite so quickly—but apparently, the universe had other ideas. or, more accurately, yunjin and her covert operation had other ideas.
the plan was deceptively simple: do something—anything—to catch jungwon’s attention and make him think you guys have a lot in common. but if he remained tragically oblivious or did not make a first move, then it was back to the drawing board, where your self-appointed love strategists would cook up something even bolder.
the first mission? color theory.
according to sunoo, jungwon had an odd but adorable preference for certain colors—specifically, blue and orange. something about the contrast, he said once, made things feel “alive.”
and so, like a secret agent with a romantic agenda, you began to subtly incorporate those shades into your outfits whenever you stopped by his apartment. soft blues, dusky oranges, a careful balance between effort and nonchalance.
the first day you tried it, you wore a pale blue hoodie. comfortable, oversized, with sleeves that almost swallowed your hands. it wasn’t exactly dramatic, but it did the trick.
jungwon opened the door, expecting the usual casual drop-in, but the moment his eyes landed on you, he paused—his gaze lingering.
his expression flickered from confusion to curiosity to something fond and unspoken.
you pretended not to notice.
as if on cue, yami trotted into the living room with a delighted meow, her fluffy tail high as she greeted you like royalty. you moved to the couch and sat down, letting her claim your lap as her rightful throne. she curled up there contentedly, purring like a tiny motor.
jungwon, still oddly quiet, sat beside you—not too close, but closer than usual. his eyes kept darting to your hoodie. you could feel the stare, like a gentle poke to your side that begged to be acknowledged.
finally, you gave in. you turned to him, head tilted slightly, the universal expression for ‘what?’
he blinked, caught. his hand rose to scratch the back of his neck—his telltale nervous habit—before he spoke.
“that hoodie looks good on you. blue suits you,” he said, eyes dipping briefly to the fabric before glancing away again. “i think i have the exact same hoodie.”
his voice was casual, but you noticed the faint blush blooming across his cheeks. subtle. sweet.
“really?” you asked, eyes lighting up with faux surprise. “can i see it?”
he froze for half a second, as if you’d just asked to see his childhood diary. but then he nodded, disappearing into his room with a bit more urgency than expected.
you waited, smiling to yourself, still absentmindedly petting yami as she purred in your lap. a few minutes later, jungwon returned, holding a hoodie that looked completely identical to yours.
same shade of light blue. same brand. same design. even the same texture.
“twins,” you said with a grin, reaching out to brush your fingers along the fabric before handing it back to him. “why don’t you wear it, too? we can match.”
his eyes widened a fraction. “like… couple hoodies?”
you shrugged, playful. “if that’s what you want to call it.”
his blush deepened, but he didn’t argue. with a quick nod, he retreated back into his room—and emerged a moment later wearing the hoodie.
it fit him perfectly, the soft color making him look even softer somehow. he sat back down beside you, a little more relaxed now, like he’d slipped into something familiar and comforting. you looked at the two of you—side by side, almost completely identical besides the size—and you couldn’t help but smile.
you looked like a pair.
this plan has been going on for a week now. every day, without fail, you showed up at jungwon’s apartment clad in soft blues and burnt oranges—the very colors he subconsciously adored. and every day, like clockwork, he’d compliment your outfit with a shy smile and, more often than not, disappear into his room only to return wearing something that matched. a hoodie. a t-shirt. once, even socks.
you were like a walking color palette curated just for him.
it was sweet, yes. flattering, even. but also... painfully stagnant.
because that was it.
no sudden confessions. no heart-stopping declarations. just matching clothes and stolen glances.
so naturally, after another fruitless day of wearing his favorite shades, you texted the group chat—the now highly classified collaboration between your friend group and jungwon’s.
you:
operation: get this oblivious man to confess.
status: failed. again.
i repeat: we are not making progress. new plan. urgently needed.
and just like that, it was back to the drawing board.
over the course of the next few weeks, the plans escalated from mildly clever to questionably elaborate. it became a symphony of his favorite things: favorite colors, favorite foods, favorite bands, favorite music, favorite movie genres—even a casual detour to his favorite ramen place “by coincidence.”
jungwon, blissfully unaware of the scheming, simply marveled at how much the two of you seemed to have in common.
he thought it was fate. you knew it was group chat coordination and a spreadsheet titled “jungwon's weaknesses.”
but he was happy. so, in a way, you were too.he treasured every moment with you and yami, finding comfort in your growing presence in his life. for him, this was enough—for now.
but your friends? his friends?
absolutely not.
currently, you were all crammed into the modest but cozy dorm shared by yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon. it had officially become mission control—your war room, your crisis center, your love-struck headquarters.
the scene was... tragic.
a few of them were sprawled across the carpet like they’d lost the will to live, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if the answer to all your problems might magically appear there. others were aimlessly scrolling through their phones, munching on chips with the empty gaze of strategists defeated by romance.
the silence dragged until sunoo suddenly shot upright, flailing his arms in sheer exasperation.
“why won’t he do anything?! it’s been a months!” he wailed, as if the heavens themselves had betrayed him.
he collapsed back dramatically, burying his face in a pillow, still muttering indignantly. “one. whole. month. and not even a hint of a love confession. he’s killing me. i am being emotionally murdered by my best friend.”
the rest of the room groaned in agreement.
chaewon looked like she was considering faking a faint just to escape the stress. jay was lying face-down on the floor like a corpse. riki was balancing a cookie on his nose. kazuha was aggressively munching on chips while nodding solemnly.
“it’s starting to feel like we’re trying to romance him,” jake muttered from the corner. “we’ve done everything but write him a love letter ourselves.”
“don’t tempt me,” yunjin said, half-joking, half-not. “i’ll forge y/n’s handwriting and do it.”
you sighed, flopping onto the nearest cushion. “he’s just… happy spending time with me. like that’s enough for him.”
sunghoon raised a brow. “and for you?”
you hesitated. “i also love hanging out with him but… it’s not enough for me.”
the silence that followed was understanding. not pitying. just quiet solidarity, like everyone collectively exhaled the weight of your mutual frustration.
because love, even the most obvious kind, still needed a push sometimes.
a collective sigh swept across the room. your friends looked utterly defeated, heads thrown back, lips pressed into thin lines, while jungwon’s friends resembled mourners at the funeral of common sense—grieving the tragic loss of their best friend’s ability to take a hint.
riki, who had been quietly munching on snacks moments earlier, now rested his head against kazuha’s shoulder with the solemn energy of a small, heartbroken puppy.
“i just wish he’d be honest with himself for once,” he mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor. “like, just say whatever he’s thinking out loud. even if it’s dumb. especially if it’s dumb.”
sunoo, still pouting like a betrayed rom-com sidekick, nodded in agreement. “right? like that one time when—”
his words abruptly halted mid-sentence, as if someone had hit pause on his train of thought. his eyes slowly widened, shifting to riki—who, in perfect sync, blinked back at him.
click.
you could almost hear the spark of realization zip between them like a cartoon lightbulb flickering to life. something had clicked. hard.
and suddenly, without warning, the once hopeless energy in the room transformed. it was subtle at first—the way riki sat up straighter, the way sunoo’s pout curled into a knowing smirk—but it sent a ripple through everyone.
your group looked around in confusion, collectively sensing the shift but too lost to decode it.
“uh... what just happened?” you asked, brows furrowed.
jungwon’s friends, now spring-loaded with new energy, were already standing up and grabbing their bags like a SWAT team mobilizing.
“nothing, nothing. you don’t have to worry,” sunoo said with an excessively sweet smile that immediately made you more worried. “we’ll handle jungwon, okay?”
you, yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon could only stare as the six boys—sunoo, riki, jake, sunghoon, jay, and heeseung—swiftly gathered their belongings with an almost eerie efficiency.
kazuha raised an eyebrow. “you guys have a new plan or something?”
riki turned as the group reached the door, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “yep. and don’t stress. just be ready, because he might start talking tomorrow.”
and with that cryptic farewell, he chuckled and gave a casual wave before they all slipped out into the hallway, disappearing down the corridor like they were on a secret mission.
you and the girls stood frozen at the door for a few lingering seconds before slowly closing it and returning to the couch.
“now i’m scared for jungwon,” kazuha said plainly as she collapsed onto the couch, arms flopping like a tired starfish.
you followed suit, dropping beside her. “same. what are they even planning?”
“who knows,” yunjin murmured.
chaewon leaned her head back, eyes closed. “nah, sunoo could never hurt a fly.”
kazuha looked up from where she had been checking her phone and said calmly, “yeah, but his friends aren’t flies. they’re very much human.”
chaewon blinked at her, processing that for a full second before sighing and muttering a quiet curse under her breath. “why is she right.”
you pulled a pillow into your lap, hugging it as you stared at the ceiling. something told you that tomorrow was going to be interesting—maybe even historic.
whatever jungwon’s friends had planned, it was likely to be dramatic, probably borderline absurd, and definitely chaotic.
but what if it finally made him speak up?
then you were ready.or… at least, you hoped you were.
tomorrow was coming. and with it, possibly, jungwon’s long-awaited confession.
finally?
the next day arrived like a reluctant sigh—slow, inevitable, and accompanied by the low thrum of resistance humming in jungwon’s chest.
he stood in his apartment, tugging down the hem of his cardigan with a subtle frown, not quite in the mood to go out. but after weeks of dodging his friends’ invitations with careful excuses and polite declines, he had finally run out of ways to say no.
they’d been patient. understanding, even—especially after everything that happened with yami. but now that she was nearly fully healed and walking around the apartment like the tiny empress she was, they were expecting jungwon to finally hang out with them.
sunoo, in particular, had taken it personally. he’d pouted dramatically over the phone, threatening their friendship in a tone that was half-joking, half-serious. “if you don’t come out tonight, i’m cutting you off. this is the final straw, jungwon. friendship—terminated.”
jungwon rolled his eyes at the memory, though a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. how could he explain that the reason he kept staying home wasn’t because he was still worrying about yami—but because he wanted to be with you?
of course, it wasn’t something he could admit. not to them, and definitely not to you. not yet.
he glanced at the mirror, smoothing down his light grey zip-up cardigan. the fabric was soft, the kind that almost whispered luxury without trying too hard. he left the zipper partially undone, revealing a bit of the neckline—just enough to look effortless. his sleeves were pushed up carelessly to his forearms, revealing the delicate structure of his wrists and a single, subtle bracelet that gleamed quietly under the light.
his trousers were dark and wide-legged, the tailored fabric falling in elegant folds to his shoes. the contrast of light and shadow in his outfit gave him a clean, poised silhouette that felt both casual and refined.
he looked… good.
not that it mattered. they were just going out for drinks—maybe some bar hopping. nothing serious. nothing that required him to look this put together. and yet, here he was.
he picked up his phone and quickly tapped out a message.
jungwon (yami's dad):
can you stay with yami tonight?
going out w the guys. don’t know how long i’ll be.
you replied almost instantly, enthusiastically even.
you:
ofc! 😺
moments later, you were at his door.
after knocking softly, you typed in the familiar passcode and stepped inside—only to pause mid-step when jungwon walked out of his room.
your breath caught in your throat.
he looked good, so good.
well, he looks good all the time but this was different.
it's the kind of good that made your brain momentarily glitch. the cardigan, the trousers, the sleeves, the slightly tousled hair that looked like it was styled without trying (but definitely was)... he looked like someone who should be stepping out of a commercial, not his apartment.
he noticed your staring.
with a teasing smile, he rolled up his sleeves again, this time slowly and deliberately, as if to say, ‘is this what got you flustered?’
you tried to recover quickly, straightening your posture and pretending not to be affected, even as your cheeks burned with the telltale warmth of a silent blush.
he stopped just in front of you and leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne brushing against your senses—clean, subtle, comforting.
“i’ll be heading out now,” he said, voice soft, eyes flicking toward your forehead as if contemplating something. for a split second, he looked like he might lean forward… like he might kiss your forehead.
but instead, his hand lifted, and he gently patted your head.
your heart dropped in confusion and rose again in flustered disbelief.
“i don’t know when i’ll be back, so don’t wait up,” he added with a little smile.
you blinked. still stunned. the only word that managed to escape your lips was a quiet, “okay.”
he laughed softly at your dazed state before turning toward the door.
you and yami followed him to the door, watching as he slipped into his shoes and cracked the door open.
and just as he was about to step out, he paused.
he turned his head and saw the two of you still standing there.
the scene was oddly domestic. cozy. familiar in a way he hadn’t expected. like you were walking him out the door… like the two of you had been married and living together for years. (delusional)
like this was normal.
the thought made his heart stutter.
he almost stepped back inside. almost said something.
but his phone rang, sharp and abrupt.
sunoo.
with a quiet sigh, jungwon gave one final wave, the blush now clearly blooming across his cheeks, and walked out the door, answering the call.
“yeah, yeah, i’m on my way—calm down,” he muttered, the door shutting softly behind him.
you stood there in the silence, yami weaving around your ankles as if she too sensed that something important had just almost happened.
and maybe it had.
maybe tonight… would finally be the beginning of everything you’d both been waiting for.
you knew something was up the moment jungwon asked you to stay with yami. not just because he rarely left her side, but because of last night’s secretive energy back at yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon’s dorm—your shared war room for scheming, planning, and borderline conspiracy.
riki had said it so confidently. “just be ready,” he’d told you with a sly smile, practically radiating mischief. “because he might start talking tomorrow.”
well, today was tomorrow. and while you knew the plan was already in motion, you were still utterly in the dark about what it actually was. they had refused to say a word more, acting like members of a high-level government operation sworn to secrecy.
meanwhile, outside the apartment building, jungwon had just stepped into the cool dusk air when a sleek dark gray SUV rolled up to the curb like a scene from a low-budget spy movie. the tinted windows hummed down slowly, revealing a familiar face in the front passenger seat—heeseung, grinning like he was up to something illegal along with jay behind the wheel.
jungwon blinked.
at the second row, sunoo and riki were already squished together, waving like kids on a roller coaster. in the very back, jake and sunghoon gave exaggerated thumbs-ups, clearly delighted with themselves.
“get in, loser. we’re rekindling our friendship,” sunoo announced gleefully, leaning out of the window just enough to sound threateningly persuasive.
jungwon laughed under his breath. ‘were they always this dramatic?’ he shook his head, climbed into the SUV, and settled beside sunoo—who immediately looped his arm through jungwon’s like they were about to skip through a field of daisies together.
“finally!” sunoo beamed. “you’re actually hanging out with us again. this is a monumental day. we’re gonna have the best night of our lives. you’re not allowed to escape.”
jungwon chuckled, amused but slightly wary. the energy in the car was way too high for a simple night out. it was… suspicious. very suspicious. but also, a little endearing.
“you guys missed me that much, huh?” he teased, and sunghoon dramatically clutched his chest from the back row.
“more than oxygen,” jake added solemnly.
the drive to the bar was filled with chaotic laughter, bad singing, and increasingly ridiculous stories that may or may not have been fabricated. jungwon smiled, enjoying the moment—genuinely glad to be with them again. maybe he had been too withdrawn lately.
once they reached their destination, jay parked the car and the group prepared to face the bouncer. they lined up, IDs in hand, expecting to be scrutinized for every facial hair and birth year.
but the bouncer? he barely glanced at them before stepping aside with an indifferent nod.
they hadn’t even spoken.
“did we… just pass the vibe check without trying?” riki whispered, impressed.
“we must've looked mature,” jay muttered proudly, fixing the collar of his shirt.
inside, the bar greeted them with pulsing lights, music so loud it practically rearranged their organs, and a potent mix of alcohol, cologne, and lingering vape clouds that clung to the air like fog in a neon forest.
sunoo, ever the planner, had already reserved a table—far enough from the speakers to allow conversation, but still close enough to soak in the lively atmosphere. the table was tucked neatly into a corner, giving them a small bubble of privacy amidst the chaos.
menus were passed around, drinks were ordered, and conversations blossomed with the kind of ease that only long-time friends could afford. the night was young, the energy was high, and jungwon, blissfully unaware, had no idea what storm his friends were brewing around him.
meanwhile, you sat on the other side of the city, curled up on his couch, still unaware of the details—but knowing full well that something was about to go down. and unlike jungwon, at least you had the comfort of knowing.
because while jungwon was sipping his drink in clueless contentment, you were bracing yourself.
for what exactly, you didn’t know.
but you had a feeling the night would end with something unforgettable—for both of you.
you had every intention of staying up for jungwon.
even though he had told you not to wait, had patted your head with that soft smile and said, “don’t wait up,” like it was a gentle command. but something about his absence made the apartment feel a little too quiet, too still. and you were curious—nervous, even. wondering what his friends had schemed, wondering how he was doing, wondering if he'd come back different.
but in the end, sleep had other plans. you had dozed off on the couch, curled beneath a light blanket, with yami snuggled against your hip like a tiny, living heater. the soft rhythm of her breathing, the faint hum of the apartment, and the warmth of the room all pulled you under before you could even fight it.
hours passed unnoticed.
until the doorbell rang.
you groaned softly, peeling your eyes open as if the weight of sleep clung to your lashes. your limbs felt sluggish, your mind still lost in that foggy space between dreams and reality.
the bell rang again.
you sat up in a daze, suddenly struck by the realization: this isn't your apartment.
your eyes widened as you looked around the familiar space. jungwon’s apartment. which meant—that might be him at the door.
but why wasn’t he using the password?
confused and still slightly disoriented, you stumbled toward the door, blinking the sleep from your eyes, and pulled it open.
and there he was.
jungwon.
he stood swaying gently, looking far too relaxed for someone upright. his cardigan was rumpled, and his smile—oh, his smile—was crooked, lazy, too wide for his own face. he looked like someone who had just made friends with the moon.
on either side of him, like glorified babysitters, stood sunoo and riki. each of them had one of jungwon’s arms slung over their shoulders, holding him up like he was made of spaghetti noodles and poor choices.
you blinked. slowly. “what... is this?”
sunoo’s expression was bright and unbothered, like this was all part of a perfectly ordinary evening. “he’s all yours now,” he chirped, not even attempting to hide the amusement dancing in his eyes.
riki gave you a grin, half mischief, half solidarity. “good luck. he gets clingy.”
before you could protest, they helped jungwon inside with theatrical care and let the door close softly behind them.
and just like that, you were alone.
alone with jungwon’s dazed laughter echoing through the room, and yami blinking at him like he had brought chaos home in a cardigan.
he flopped onto the couch with a dramatic exhale, arms spread like he was melting into it. his hair was tousled, the kind of perfect mess that looked like it belonged in a drama scene. a few strands had fallen over his eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. or care.
you stood there for a moment, arms crossed, staring down at him like he was both the problem and the puzzle.
you weren’t sure whether to scold him for coming home like this or wrap him up in a blanket burrito and protect him from the world.
you chose the latter.
softening, you walked to the kitchen, filled a glass of water, and crouched beside the couch. “here,” you said quietly, holding it out to him.
jungwon blinked at you like you were a dream he wasn’t quite sure he deserved. his fingers curled around the glass clumsily, and he took a few slow sips, lips brushing the rim with exaggerated focus.
then he handed it back with care and looked at you—really looked at you.
his gaze was heavy, unfiltered, drenched in quiet affection and a boldness that only came with just enough alcohol to silence overthinking. his eyes didn't move away like they usually did. no. they stayed. steady. sincere.
his gaze held yours with a kind of tender stubbornness, like even the soft haze of intoxication couldn’t dull the clarity of what he felt in this moment.
“you’re… so pretty,” he blurted out, the words tumbling out of his mouth without a filter, carried by something braver than sobriety.
you sighed, equal parts amused and exasperated. “you’re drunk,” you mumbled under your breath as you reached out to help him sit up. he was trying to rise on his own but looked like he was fighting gravity itself—and losing.
but he didn’t stop talking.
“do you know,” he began, his voice low and hoarse, slurred at the edges but still oddly steady, “why i started ignoring you?”
your hands froze mid-motion. your breath caught in your throat. something about his tone—raw, unguarded—felt like a door creaking open.
“why?” you asked quietly.
he smiled. not the kind you were used to—the charming, boyish kind. this one was tinged with something softer. something closer to regret.
“because… you kissed yami. like, a lot.” he said, and even through the thick fog of his drunkenness, he sounded sincerely wounded. “her face was all pink and smudgy. i don't know why but i said that she was so lucky and i think i was jealous?”
you blinked, stunned for a moment. “you were… jealous? of your cat?”
“she got your kisses,” he mumbled, brows furrowing in a pout that should not have looked this tragic. “i didn’t.”
your heart gave a wild, unexpected flutter.
he shifted upright with effort, his body swaying just slightly, but his eyes never left yours. “and then... that night. after the welcoming party. you kissed me too. do you remember?”
you stared at him, your mind flipping through every mental file, every hazy memory. you kissed him? no. surely not. you would’ve remembered something like that... wouldn’t you?
his fingers brushed your cheek then—tentative, reverent. his palm came to rest along the curve of your jaw, cradling your face like it was something delicate. precious.
“you kissed me here,” he whispered, and his lips pressed softly to the apple of your cheek.
your breath hitched.
“and here,” he added, his mouth brushing the tip of your nose like a feather.
“and here,” he breathed as he kissed your forehead before lowering his forehead until it touched yours, skin to skin, warm and close and impossibly intimate.
his lips hovered just above yours now. not quite a kiss, not yet. just a breath. a memory waiting to be rewritten. a question waiting to be answered.
“and then… here.”
you could feel the warmth of his lips ghost over yours—barely there, light as air. your fingers instinctively curled around his wrist.
“jungwon… you’re drunk,” you said gently, quietly. it was half a plea, half a warning, and yet your voice came out softer than you'd intended.
but he didn’t move away.
instead, he pulled you closer with a steadiness that defied the haze in his eyes. slow, unhurried, like this wasn’t just a whim, but something he’d thought about—wanted—for longer than you realized.
your knees ended up on either side of his thighs, settling on his lap as if it was the most natural thing in the world. your palms landed on his chest, feeling the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers.
the space between your faces disappeared entirely now—just breath, and heat, and the tension of something unspoken finally reaching the edge of being said.
and still, he looked at you.
like he was waiting for permission.
“do you really want me to stop?” he asked, his voice a quiet murmur, almost afraid of the answer.
you didn’t say a word.
but silence, as it often is between two people standing on the edge of something fragile and real, was louder than any yes. louder than hesitation.
and that silence—your silence—was enough.
jungwon leaned in and kissed you. softly, at first. tentative, like testing the weight of a dream. his lips brushed against yours with such gentle care it made your chest ache. but then—slowly—need bled into the kiss, a hunger born not of impulse but of everything unsaid between you for far too long. he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, capturing your bottom lip between his and letting it go just to taste it again.
his hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips feathering over your spine like a whisper. your own hands moved to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, seeking something solid in a moment that felt like it might melt around you.
the kiss turned messier—open mouths, breathless sighs, hearts racing beneath skin that begged to be touched.
he tugged at the edge of your shirt, lifting it gently with a question in his eyes, one he didn’t need to voice. you raised your arms, granting silent permission. he slid the fabric off of you in one slow motion, letting it fall to the floor with a quiet rustle. you mirrored the action, unzipping his cardigan before helping it off him completely until nothing separated the heat between your bodies.
bare skin met bare skin.
it was warmth and want and wonder. the soft curve of his back beneath your palms, the steady rise of his chest against yours, the low hum of his breath as he continues to kiss you.
jungwon’s lips trailed to your jaw, his breath trembling slightly as he kissed lower, slower, mapping a path along your neck like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. he left warm, fluttering marks with his mouth, his lips brushing against your collarbone. you gasped—a soft, surprised sound that made his fingers dig a little deeper into your waist.
he smiled against your skin.
but then, just as suddenly, he stopped moving.
you stilled. “jungwon?” you asked, breath catching in your throat.
no answer.
you pulled back slightly, eyes scanning his face.
his eyes were closed. his breathing… steady.
he was asleep.
just like that.
you stared at him for a moment, absolutely dumbfounded. you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—or shake him awake just to scold him.
instead, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaped your lips.
“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you whispered, brushing a few loose strands of hair from his forehead with a kind of fondness you didn’t mean to show so obviously.
he mumbled something incoherent in reply, still lost in sleep.
you kissed him again—just a quick, affectionate peck on his lips, careful not to wake him. then, with a sigh and a small shake of your head, you eased off his lap and gently laid him down fully on the couch, his limbs heavy and completely relaxed.
you spotted his cardigan that you took off, draped over the armrest. slipping it on, you were immediately enveloped in his warmth and scent—his perfume, the smell of alcohol, and something unmistakably him.
after adjusting the blanket over his body and yours, you curled beside him, finding space between his arm and chest. your head rested against his heart, its rhythm calm and grounding. yami jumped up and found her usual place at your feet, her tiny purring adding a soft hum to the quiet.
and slowly—wrapped in warmth, tangled in limbs and cardigan threads, and bathed in the stillness of the moment—you fell asleep.
smiling.
morning came, light slipping through the curtains and onto jungwon’s face with no mercy. his head pulsed with a dull, insistent ache—the hangover had arrived, cruel and unapologetic.
he groaned, voice hoarse, and shifted slightly beneath the blanket, only to realize there was something—or someone—heavy on his chest. in his hazy mind, the answer was obvious.
“yami,” he croaked, eyes still closed. “get off my chest, please.”
nothing.
he furrowed his brows and tried again, his voice a little more desperate. “yami, come on. i’m dying.”
still, no response—until a soft meow broke the silence. but it came from a different direction. a few inches above his head, in fact.
he forced one eye open, squinting against the light.
there she was—yami. perched neatly atop the sofa’s backrest, blinking down at him with a judgmental gaze only a cat could manage. she let out another quiet meow, almost as if to say, ‘don’t drag me into your mess, human.’
jungwon blinked. once. twice.
“…if yami is there,” he muttered to himself, brain still wrapped in fog, “then what the hell is on my chest?”
slowly, hesitantly, he tilted his head down.
and then he saw you.
his breath caught in his throat. time stopped.
you were curled up against him, your head resting peacefully on his bare chest, arm loosely draped around his waist. tangled in the same blanket, legs slightly entwined, breaths rising and falling in quiet sync. your face was relaxed, framed gently by your hair, and far too close to the danger zone that was his heart.
jungwon’s face flushed red instantly, color creeping up his neck to his ears like wildfire.
‘i’m shirtless,’ he realized with a jolt, instinctively pulling his hands away from where they’d unknowingly rested—close enough to feel your warmth.
his mind raced.
‘okay. think. what happened last night?’
he squinted at the ceiling, piecing together fragments of memory—his friends, the bar, music loud enough to shake his bones, too many drinks passed around, laughter, and bad dancing. and then… blank.
nothing about this.
and just as he started to panic further, you moved.
a soft hum escaped your lips as you nestled closer to him, face brushing against the crook of his neck like you belonged there. your hand slid slightly across his chest, warm palm resting right over his heartbeat.
he made a strangled noise—something between a gasp and a prayer.
his heart thudded loudly under your touch, so loud he was certain you’d wake up and hear it screaming. he bit down on his bottom lip to keep himself quiet.
“she’s gonna be the death of me,” he thought, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers to the universe—or at least to why his chest was now a pillow.
after a few deep breaths, he mustered the courage to lift a shaky hand and gently tapped your shoulder.
“hey…” he whispered, as softly as his rattled nerves allowed. “wake up.”
you groaned in response, furrowing your brows. instead of pulling away, you buried your face deeper into his neck, your hand unconsciously splaying more firmly across his chest.
jungwon stopped breathing for a second.
he was certain this moment would either kill him or convert him into a monk.
he couldn’t help it anymore.
‘when will i ever get to hug her like this again?’ the thought whispered through jungwon’s mind like a confession. his restraint crumbled.
before reason could intervene, his arms moved on their own—wrapping tightly around you, drawing you even closer into his chest as though you were something precious he was afraid to lose. his face nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the quiet scent of you—soft, familiar, calming. then, as if overcome by a sudden, overwhelming wave of affection, he began to pepper gentle kisses across the top of your head. once. twice. again. and again.
it was, without a doubt, a case of cuteness aggression. your mere presence in his arms was too much for his heart to handle.
but even in the bliss of the moment, a sliver of panic returned.
‘she’s going to wake up and freak out,’ he thought, dread seeping in. ‘she’s going to scream or hit me or—’
he didn’t know that you already knew. and that you wouldn't be surprised. not even a little.
with a reluctant sigh, he slowly pulled back from the embrace, letting his arms fall away from your frame. he hesitated before gently shaking your shoulder, trying to rouse you from sleep—soft enough not to startle, but persistent enough to work.
and this time, it did.
you stirred with a groan, blinking up at him with a single eye, your features still heavy with sleep. and then, to his complete confusion, you smiled.
‘why is she smiling?’ his mind stumbled. ‘isn’t she supposed to—panic? shove me off?’
but instead, you just said, “good morning,” in that warm, slightly raspy morning voice of yours, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
and then you moved. shifted upward. now fully lying on top of him.
your chin came to rest gently on his chest, eyes gazing up into his, content and unbothered—as though this kind of closeness was your everyday routine. jungwon, meanwhile, was malfunctioning.
he stared down at you, blinking as though he’d forgotten how to speak. the soft morning light was pooling through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your face, illuminating your smile, making you look absolutely ethereal. breathtaking. like a dream.
he felt like his brain had unplugged itself.
you tilted your head slightly, curious at his speechlessness. amused, even.
a few long seconds passed before he finally remembered how to use words. “g-good morning,” he stammered, voice embarrassingly unsteady.
you chuckled, the sound bright and airy. you knew exactly what he was feeling—flustered, completely thrown off-guard by your lack of panic and your excessive proximity.
you stayed like that for a while, tangled in the stillness of morning, the silence between you stretching comfortably. but as you looked down at him, you noticed something odd—his arms were no longer wrapped around you. they were just… floating awkwardly near his head, like he didn’t know where to put them or if he was even allowed to touch you anymore.
you pouted slightly.
he cleared his throat, clearly trying to maintain whatever was left of his composure.
you tilted your head again, brows raised in silent question—‘what’s wrong?’
he spoke at last, though his voice stumbled out in fragments.
“w-what... happened last night?”
you blinked at him, momentarily stunned. then, after a beat, a quiet, amused breath escaped you—something between a laugh and a sigh.
he doesn’t remember.
you thought he was just feeling flustered. you were't expecting him to not remember what happened last night.
you shook your head, lips quirking upward as you looked down at him, amused by how truly lost he looked. jungwon, still blinking rapidly, stared up at you like you’d just started speaking in riddles.
‘why is she laughing?’ his eyes seemed to plead for an explanation. ‘did i say something weird? embarrassing? did i do something—’
“i knew it,” you murmured under your breath, as if confirming something long suspected.
“knew what?” he asked instinctively, but you didn’t answer right away. instead, you leaned down and pinched his cheek gently, earning a startled blink from him.
“good thing you’re cute,” you said, voice laced with mock severity—then kissed his cheek once. twice. and then a third time for good measure.
he froze beneath your touch, brain flickering between mild panic and pure confusion. ‘what is happening?’ he thought, nearly out loud. ‘why is she kissing me like that?’
but before he could find a thread of logic to cling to, your voice returned—light, sweet, but with a sharpness that made him straighten slightly.
“but being cute won’t cut it,” you said casually, brushing your fingers against his jaw. “i’m mad at you for what you did last night.”
his eyes flew open, alarm setting in like a sudden gust of cold air.
‘what did i do? why is she mad? did i say something stupid? did i cross a line? did i—’
you could practically hear the flurry of panicked questions buzzing inside his head, written all over his expression.
you pushed yourself up, and in doing so, you revealed something that nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.
his breath caught audibly.
you were wearing nothing but your bra and—his cardigan. the same light grey one he’d worn out last night, now draped loosely over your shoulders, the sleeves falling past your fingertips, the fabric hanging open just enough to hint at what lay beneath.
jungwon’s brain, already short-circuiting, utterly failed him now. he averted his eyes like they burned, cheeks rapidly turning crimson.
‘why is she in my cardigan? why isn’t she wearing a shirt? are those—’ his eyes darted back to you for a second before retreating again— ‘are those... hickeys? on her neck? on her collarbone? did i... did i do that?’
he gulped audibly.
you let out another small laugh, not unkind—just endlessly amused by how adorably flustered he was. you reached out, cupping his cheek once more, and gently turned his face back toward yours.
“let’s get up,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his skin. “i know you're having the worst hangover right now.”
you sat up properly, tying your hair back with practiced ease. he barely processed it—still staring at you like you were both a miracle and a mystery.
then, without another word, you stood, stretched with a quiet hum, and padded off toward the kitchen, the oversized cardigan swaying around your frame.
jungwon watched you go in stunned silence, still flat on the couch like a man recovering from a fever dream.
he wasn’t sure if he needed water, a cold shower, or divine intervention.
but one thing was certain: he was absolutely, entirely, and hopelessly in trouble.
and he doesn't know why but he didn’t even mind.
a few minutes passed before jungwon finally pulled himself off the sofa. his legs felt heavier than usual, and his mind still lagged a step behind reality. he glanced down, finding himself obviously shirtless, his belt hanging loosely from the loops of his pants—undone, though mercifully still fastened enough to maintain his dignity. remembering the faint trace of hickeys left on your neck and collarbone wasn’t helping his spiraling thoughts.
his gaze fell to the shirt on the floor.
your shirt.
meanwhile, you were already in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you prepared coffee for the both of you—moving with the kind of casual grace that comes from being completely comfortable in someone else’s space, wearing someone else’s cardigan, and looking entirely unbothered by last night’s events.
when you turned around with two mugs in hand, you were momentarily startled to see jungwon standing just across the island counter.
or rather—hiding.
he had draped the blanket from the couch over his head and shoulders like a makeshift cloak of shame, the edges nearly brushing the floor.
you blinked. and then you burst out laughing.
“seriously?” you giggled. “you look like a sad little ghost.”
“i feel like one,” he muttered from beneath the blanket.
still grinning, you set the mugs down and gently slid his toward him. “sit down, ghost boy. drink your coffee before you wither into the afterlife.”
he obeyed, sinking onto one of the stools without saying another word. he murmured a soft thank you, fingers curling around the warmth of the mug as though it could anchor him back to sanity. what it couldn’t help with, however, was the sight of you.
you were still wearing his cardigan—unzipped, loose—and underneath it, just your bra.
jungwon did his best to avert his gaze, sipping his coffee like it was holy water, but every time his eyes drifted, they betrayed him. the curve of your collarbone, the way the cardigan slipped off one shoulder, the slight sway of your hips when you turned...
he was convinced he was going to pass out before breakfast.
you didn’t make it any easier. in fact, you turned away again with a mischievous hum and started grabbing ingredients.
“i’m making toast with bacon and eggs. that cool?” you asked, already slipping slices of bread into the toaster, cracking eggs with practiced ease.
“y-yeah, that’s fine,” he answered, voice barely above a whisper.
you smiled softly to yourself and continued cooking.
once everything was done, you plated the food with care and brought the dishes over. jungwon cleared his throat awkwardly, the silence growing heavier between you as he dared to speak.
“i’m... shirtless,” he pointed out, as if it had just occurred to him.
you looked up from your plate, blinked once, then nodded. “mhm. noticed that earlier.”
he squinted at you. “and are you even planning on giving me back my cardigan?”
you looked down at the soft fabric wrapped around you, then back at him with a smirk playing at your lips. casually, you leaned forward across the island, resting your elbows on the counter and your chin on your hands.
“nah,” you said with a cheeky smile. “i kinda wanna keep it for myself.”
jungwon’s heart practically melted.
‘why is she doing this to me?’ he thought helplessly. ‘why is she so pretty? why is she so dangerous?’
he stared down into his coffee like it held the answers, cheeks still burning as he reached for a piece of toast. you started eating too, the silence now a comfortable one—soft, domestic, filled with the quiet sounds of clinking forks and shared glances.
but eventually, the weight of uncertainty became too much to bear.
he drew in a breath, summoned the last of his courage, and broke the silence again.
“i still... don’t know what happened last night.”
his voice was quiet, sincere. his eyes remained fixed on the rippling surface of his coffee.
the question lingered between you like steam rising from the mugs.
and now, it was your turn to decide what you wanted to give him—truth, reassurance, a tease, or maybe all three.
you were placing the dishes in the sink when he asked.
the plate in your hand hovered mid-air for a moment before you set it down in the sink. a smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you turned toward him.
slowly, you walked over, the echo of your bare feet soft against the tiled floor. jungwon, still wrapped in the couch blanket like some confused ghost, did not lift his gaze. he was doing an impressively terrible job at pretending not to look at you—even though the pink blooming at the tips of his ears gave him away.
he didn’t see you smile.
you came to a stop right beside him. then, gently, you reached out and tilted his face toward yours by the chin.
his breath hitched.
you leaned in, just close enough for your lips to brush the corner of his mouth—a ghost of a kiss, barely there, but it was enough to short-circuit what little brain activity he had left.
his shoulders stiffened. his hands froze around his coffee mug. his pupils dilated like you had cast some sort of spell.
“that’s for you to find out,” you whispered, your voice dipped in honey and mischief.
then your fingers slid up to rest on his cheek, your thumb brushing delicately over his skin—slow, affectionate, and undeniably cruel in the best way. he leaned into your touch without thinking, his eyes searching yours like he was desperately trying to decode whatever language your smile was written in.
“you can handle the cleanup, right?” you asked sweetly, as if you hadn’t just fried his nervous system in one go.
he blinked.
then, still dazed, nodded.
you chuckled—soft and victorious—and turned away. he couldn’t help but watch you as you walked, the hem of his cardigan swaying gently with each step. you pulled it around yourself, zipped it up halfway, and tossed a casual glance over your shoulder.
“i’m keeping your cardigan, by the way. i’ll give it back once you remember. thanks.”
he looked like he was about to combust.
you opened the door, your fingers curled loosely around the frame as you gave him one last wave.
then you were gone, just like that.
the apartment fell into silence again. jungwon remained on his stool, staring at the door like it might offer answers. it didn’t. the only thing that broke the quiet was a soft meow—yami had claimed a seat on the island table and was now staring at him like she wanted answers too.
he groaned, dragging his hands down his face.
“ugh,” he muttered. “she’s trying to kill me. she’s actually trying to kill me. what am i gonna do?!”
his heart was racing. his mind was spinning. and somewhere inside his chest, something unfamiliar and wild and hopeful had begun to bloom.
meanwhile, just next door, you were busy snapping mirror selfies—wearing his cardigan, still warm from him, and grinning like a teenager who just pulled off the perfect prank. the pictures went straight to your group chat with yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon, accompanied by a string of excited emojis and one very smug caption.
you:
mission accomplished. 💅🏻
now all that was left… was to wait.
and see if jungwon would remember—and more importantly, if he’d do something about it.
taglist⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀ @morganaawriterr @wondoras @mypolka @meowwwon @dolliehue @in-somnias-world @yjwonsgf @kirijuns @iifrui @momisanalien @vieniee @drunkjazed @hhyvsstuff @readinmidnight @noona-neomu-yeppeo @cutehoons02 @robotinvenus @starfallia @nijisanjigenshin @kkamismom12 @kinamurariki @soobundle1009 @supershy3 @nodoubtily @vrikisn @jayjw16enxp @skzfangirl143 @0leelina0 @noriiluv @o2whre @nocturnebite @userprdx @fangirl125reader @slvrnm @wonnieswife @joonsflwr @yunmislove @raavenarmy-blog @hhoneyhan (taglist is still open, comment to be added.)
final notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed! part eight, the last update will be posted on wednesday. see you guys! and thank you so much for your love and support!
pairing⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀college student!yang jungwon x college student!f.reader.
featuring⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀all enhypen members, le sserafim yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon.
word count⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀11.445k
genre⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀sfw, fluff, angst if you squint, kinda slow burn, college life, university life, slice of life, comedy (although i don't find myself funny), friendships, relationships, and the cat distribution system. (it has chosen you and gave you two lovely cats.)
warnings⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀SUGGESTIVE, drinking alcohol, parties, mentions of bars, getting drunk (obviously), misunderstandings, jealousy, denial (jungwon is in denial), cowardice behavior (jungwon is still a bit of a coward), lots of flirting and tension, teasing, lots of planning and scheming, kissing, skinship, mentions of surgery, mentions of cat sickness/illness/disease, reader (aka us) is very delusional and does a lot of overthinking. lowercase letters intended. proofread. tell me if i'm missing anything.
mæw's notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀hi guys, part seven is finally up! i hope you guys enjoy it—we’re getting close to the end of tcds! we're finally at the suggetive parts of the fanfiction! thank you so much for your love and support!
i’m also gonna apologize. you guys obviously don't know why i’m apologizing, you'll find out soon.
also, this is jungwon's outfit inspiration.
library⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀part one. part two. part three. part four. part five. part six.
#⠀OO8⠀:⠀STAY HERE AFTER HOURS.
you were now nestled into your solo couch, your posture straight yet your mind anything but composed. internally, you were trying to find the perfect words to explain yourself. meanwhile, across from you, your three friends sat like a panel of judges, each one silently interrogating you with their eyes—sharp, knowing, unyielding.
you didn’t meet their gaze. not because you felt guilty. no, of course not. definitely not. you simply… couldn’t multitask. yes, that was it. (a lie, and a feeble one at that.)
you glanced up eventually, only to find them with arms folded tightly across their chests and legs crossed in synchronized judgment. it was the kind of stance that screamed: start talking.
you inhaled deeply, as if pulling courage straight from your lungs, and began.
“okay… so you guys already know that after that—uh—balcony incident with jungwon, we weren’t talking, right?” you paused for a beat. “but… yami still visited me.”
at the mention of the fluffy calico, their expressions softened by a degree. of course they remembered yami. she had become a sort of unofficial fifth member in your friend group. they nodded, prompting you to continue.
“so, one evening,” you said, fingers fidgeting against the edge of your seat, “yami came over like she usually does, but something felt… off. i called her, but she didn’t come to me like she usually would. no meows, no slow little strut. she just lay there.”
the room fell still.
“when i got closer to her,” you continued, voice quieting with the weight of memory, “i realized she wasn’t just resting. she was weak. really weak. and then… she vomited.”
the collective irritation that had once lingered on your friends’ faces immediately gave way to worry. their arms dropped, eyes wide now with concern.
you nodded gently, understanding their reaction.
“i didn’t know what else to do. i couldn’t just sit there. so… i ran to jungwon’s apartment and called him,” you said, looking down at your hands. “we brought her to the veterinary hospital together.”
you explained how the vet diagnosed yami with closed pyometra, and as you gave them a simplified explanation of the condition—how dangerous and life-threatening it could be if left untreated—they listened intently, brows furrowed with concern.
“she needed immediate surgery,” you said softly. “while we waited, jungwon noticed that i’d come barefoot… i didn’t even realize. i was too panicked. he then suddenly kneeled in front of me and wiped my feet clean with a tissue—so gently—and helped me put on these hospital slippers he got by asking the hospital receptionist.”
you paused for a second, the memory of that moment still vivid, still warm.
“and then i just… broke down,” you admitted. “right there in the waiting room. and he didn’t hesitate. he held me. comforted me. and i started to think maybe… maybe he’s not a jerk. maybe he did what he did back then because there’s something inside him he hasn’t figured out yet. or something he’s afraid to admit.”
you dared a glance at your friends and caught the slight curve at the corners of their lips. they were trying not to smile. trying very, very hard. but the pink rising on your cheeks was definitely not helping your case.
you cleared your throat and pressed on.
“after yami’s surgery,” you said, voice lowering, “he apologized. like… really apologized. he asked to be my friend again and said he missed me.”
you might as well have set off fireworks with that sentence. your friends didn't say a word, but the room was buzzing with unspoken squeals and suppressed teasing. the kind that only best friends could master.
you shook your head with a shy laugh, covering your face briefly.
“anyway,” you continued, bringing it to a close, “after she was discharged, i kept helping him. mostly because i still felt responsible—i mean, she collapsed in my apartment. so whenever he had classes and i didn’t, i’d go over and look after her.”
the room fell into a contemplative hush.
you had told them everything. no lies. no embellishments. just truth wrapped in awkward emotions and soft memories. you weren’t sure if they were going to jump to forgiveness just yet, but you had laid everything bare. and somehow, it felt… a little lighter.
now all you could do was wait—for their verdict, their sarcasm, or maybe their unexpected grace.
the silence that followed was heavy but not hostile—more like the calm after a storm, when the sky is still processing what just passed. your friends sat there, slowly nodding, their minds clearly working through every detail you’d just poured out to them.
then, almost in unison, all three of them exhaled a long, synchronized sigh and turned their gazes toward you.
“okay,” yunjin said, her brows raised, tone gentle but inquisitive. “we get it now… but why didn’t you just tell us?”
you glanced down at your hands, suddenly fascinated by the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. your lips pouted on instinct. “i didn’t know how you guys would react,” you murmured. “i was scared you guys would get mad at me.”
they looked at you with a mixture of exasperation and fondness, shaking their heads as if you were a toddler who’d just confessed to sneaking cookies before dinner.
“if you just explained it to us from the start,” chaewon said, her head tilting in that sweet, knowing way of hers, “we would’ve absolutely understood.”
“i know,” you sighed, your pout deepening, “i’m really sorry, guys.”
“well,” kazuha chimed in, arms crossed like a bodyguard taking notes, “you two can be friends, sure… but if he hurts you again, i’m not above pulling a full john wick on him.”
you nodded solemnly, trying not to laugh. “he promised he wouldn’t. and actually… i found something out.”
you didn’t mean to sound mysterious, but your voice dipped into a whisper by the end—and naturally, your friends pounced like cats catching the scent of drama.
“what did you find out?” chaewon leaned forward, narrowing her eyes as they all noticed the very obvious blush now blooming across your cheeks.
you hesitated, only for a second, before confessing.
“so earlier, when i stopped by his apartment again… i kind of… accidentally overheard him talking to yami.”
“wait—like a cat therapist session?” yunjin asked, eyes wide in amused disbelief.
“yes,” you nodded, biting back a smile. “he was talking to her like she was his emotional support animal. which, in fairness, she kind of is.”
they leaned in even more, sensing the good part was about to begin.
“he was telling her about his feelings for me,” you said softly. “how confused he was about when they started but that he knew they were serious. he said that being around me made him feel… like he wanted to protect me. like i belonged in his life.”
there was a beat of silence before your friends exploded into delighted squeals, all restraint now officially out the window. they were blushing and bouncing in their seats, hands gripping your shoulders as if you might float away from the weight of their giddy joy.
“he even said he loved all the little things,” you added, smiling bashfully. “the lunch boxes, the post-its and reminders about yami's medicine, the way i take care of yami…”
“stop it right now or i might cry,” chaewon groaned, fanning her face dramatically.
“this is better than any drama we’ve ever watched,” yunjin whispered, looking genuinely moved.
“he said he didn’t want to lose me anymore,” you went on, “and that he wants me to be a part of his life for a long time.”
“ugh, marry him already,” kazuha grinned, practically vibrating from secondhand butterflies.
but just as the atmosphere turned dreamy and rose-colored, you hit them with the twist.
“but…” you said, dragging the word out with a sigh, “he also said he’s scared to confess. that i might not feel the same… or that i still hate him after what happened between us.”
their dreamy smiles instantly dropped into disappointed groans.
“seriously?” kazuha huffed. “he had us in the first half, not gonna lie.”
“just when i thought he had finally unlocked his main character energy,” yunjin muttered, shaking her head like a disapproving mother.
“he really folded at the finish line,” chaewon clicked her tongue. “typical.”
the three of them sat back, arms crossed, lips pursed like a council of judges who were now reviewing jungwon’s romantic application with a more critical eye.
you could only smile, cheeks still flushed, heart still fluttering—and now with your friends on your side, fully and completely.
“but you did say he already knows what he’s feeling, right?” yunjin asked, arching a brow as her gaze landed squarely on you.
you nodded, a bit sheepishly. “yeah… he said it out loud to yami.”
“then he just needs a little push,” she replied, her lips curving into a sly smile that instantly put everyone on alert.
you and the others turned to her, your expressions equal parts intrigued and suspicious—because when yunjin smiled like that, it usually meant someone was about to be dramatically emotionally compromised.
“what kind of push?” chaewon asked cautiously, squinting as if trying to read the fine print of a very dangerous contract.
instead of answering, yunjin slowly shifted her gaze toward chaewon and kazuha, who both immediately groaned in unison like they already know what's going to happen. they covered their faces with their hands, already bracing themselves for whatever insanity yunjin was about to drag them into.
you blinked, watching the exchange with mild confusion… until you glanced at yunjin, and she gave you that same smile. the one that said, ‘you’re not getting out of this either, babe.’
and that’s when it clicked.
the first part of the plan was a job only chaewon and kazuha could handle.
you inhaled sharply through your nose, a laugh threatening to spill. oh, this was about to be ridiculous.
“do you still need to be there for yami?” yunjin asked then, her voice slipping back into casual concern. “or is she mostly healed now?”
“mostly healed,” you said with a small nod. “i’ve just been dropping by their place to check on her. we’re not letting her go out to the balcony yet, just in case… better safe than sorry.”
they all nodded, understanding the quiet worry in your voice. even if she was better, yami’s sudden collapse had left a mark—a reminder of how quickly things could shift.
“perfect,” yunjin declared, clapping her hands once in triumph. “operation push jungwon to his limits and make him confess begins tomorrow. tell jungwon you’re busy, and don’t even think about mentioning that we know anything. act normal—suspiciously normal.”
the grin that followed was pure mischief. she looked like a villain in a drama who just got handed the perfect backstory for redemption.
you sighed, already exhausted by the mere idea of what tomorrow would bring. it was going to be a long day. but, you thought, as your friends began discussing their “battle plan” like generals preparing for war—it was also going to be kind of fun.
the next day arrived much faster than you'd hoped, and with it came a heavy flutter of nerves in your chest. yunjin’s plan, which had sounded bold and mischievous under the forgiving light of last night’s excitement, now felt real—terrifyingly real—in the sharp glare of morning.
the plan was simple in words but heavy in implications: chaewon and kazuha would finally approach sunoo and riki after not talking to them for two months. not to reveal everything, of course—just enough. they’d ask them to gather their entire friend group after dismissal at the design & arts café. everyone would be there.
everyone except jungwon.
and that was the whole point.
you were finally going to meet jungwon’s full circle of friends face to face. you'd known who they were, seen them across the courtyard or in passing on campus, but outside of heeseung and jay—who shared the same club as you, albeit a little tensely since the incident—you hadn't really interacted with any of them that much besides that day at the library.
today would be your official introduction. not just as a name they’ve heard from a distance, or the girl jungwon talks about all the time and used to ignore—but as you. the very real and authentic version of yourself.
you kept glancing down at your watch between lectures, your pulse speeding up with every tick. anxiety danced with excitement in your chest, and your legs practically itched to sprint the moment the professor so much as hinted at class dismissal.
the second you were free, you swept your things into your bag without any regard for order and rushed out of the classroom, already pulling out your phone to text him.
you:
hey! i won’t be able to come by today. i’ve got something to take care of.
i’ll check in on you and yami tomorrow instead!
his reply came almost instantly, as if he’d been waiting.
he even attached a gif of a very sad, very dramatic cat curling into a blanket. it made you snort softly in the hallway, drawing a few confused stares you were far too amused to care about.
you:
thank you! tell her i said i love her. 😽
you didn’t wait for another reply—you were already out the door.
by the time you reached the café, your heart was pounding for a whole new reason. through the glass windows, you spotted them immediately: the cluster of familiar faces, all gathered in one booth near the back. laughter floated into the street even through the glass. sunoo was clinging dramatically to chaewon’s arm, while she patted his head like an exhausted babysitter. kazuha was sipping something pink. riki, halfway through a laugh, was mid-spill with his drink. jay and heeseung were deep in conversation with jake, sunghoon, and yunjin.
you paused just outside the door to fix your appearance—fingers smoothing down your hair, adjusting the strap of your bag. you took one deep breath.
then, you pushed the door open.
the familiar chime of the café’s bell made heads turn, and yunjin’s face immediately lit up with something that could only be described as mischievous pride.
“our main character has arrived!” she announced with dramatic flair, throwing her arm out toward you as if she were introducing royalty.
instantly, every pair of eyes turned to you.
your breath caught for half a second as a blush spread across your cheeks. you walked quickly to the table and gave yunjin a gentle smack on the arm before slipping into the seat beside her. “stop it,” you whispered under your breath, cheeks still warm.
you then started to greet everyone and your greeting was met with easy smiles and cheerful hellos from the group. surprisingly warm ones, actually. sunoo even gave you a tiny wave with his fingers still looped around chaewon’s arm.
the first few minutes were light and easy. introductions flowed naturally—name, age, course, random facts—and the tension you’d been so worried about gradually melted into something almost comfortable. they were a lot less intimidating than you’d expected. chaotic, yes. loud, definitely. but kind.
after a while, yunjin clapped her hands once, her eyes glinting with something suspiciously close to drama.
“alright,” she said, her voice slicing through the chatter like a conductor calling for silence, “now that we’re all friends here… let’s get to the good part.”
“we just found out something rather interesting from our dear friend here,” yunjin said, her voice laced with playful mischief as she turned to face you with a knowing smirk. “care to share it with the class, y/n?”
all eyes shifted to you.
you could feel the weight of their attention settle across your shoulders like a velvet curtain being drawn back onstage. you sat up a little straighter, cleared your throat, and offered them a small, tentative smile.
“so…” you began, voice wavering slightly. “me and jungwon… we’re friends again.”
for a heartbeat, silence clung to the air like a held breath—then it shattered all at once.
“what?!” sunoo nearly shouted, releasing chaewon’s arm and leaning so far across the table you thought he might topple into your lap. his wide, incredulous eyes locked onto yours like you’d just told him the moon had fallen out of orbit.
you nodded, lips pressed into a sheepish line.
jungwon’s entire friend group reacted like a storm had passed through. some blinked in stunned disbelief. others exchanged glances, their expressions flickering between pleasantly surprised and thoroughly betrayed. apparently, none of them had been clued in—and judging by their reactions, they had not expected their famously emotionally constipated friend to suddenly mend the broken bridge between the two of you.
“don’t worry,” kazuha chimed in casually, sipping her drink like she was talking about the weather. “she didn’t tell us either. we literally caught her running out of jungwon’s apartment last night.”
chaos.
you might’ve laughed at the expressions around the table if you weren’t so mortified. jaws dropped. eyebrows flew up. and sunoo, especially, looked as if someone had just canceled his birthday.
they weren’t angry—not really. more like… betrayed, in a melodramatic, overly-invested-in-their-friend’s-love-life kind of way. the kind of betrayal that came from genuinely caring.
“he invited you to his apartment and didn’t even say a word?” sunoo whispered like it was a national scandal, clutching at his chest.
you almost wanted to apologize to him.
before anyone could spiral further, yunjin leaned forward again, her grin widening. “that’s not even the best part.”
you turned to her, already knowing what she meant. she didn’t have to say anything else. with a sigh of surrender, you nodded and addressed the table once more, this time with a touch more courage.
“so the reason i was running out of his apartment,” you began carefully, “was because i… kind of overheard something.”
you could feel the anticipation thickening around you, the way clouds gather before a storm.
“jungwon was in his room, talking to yami,” you explained, glancing briefly at sunoo, whose eyes widened even further. “and i didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really. i’d come back after finally sending my friends away, thinking they’d go home but they obviously didn't..”
chaewon and kazuha both nodded solemnly, the image of your frantic escape from jungwon's apartment still clearly fresh in their minds.
“but i heard him. he was talking to her like she was his little therapist,” you said, a fond smile curling at your lips. “and he… he said some things.”
you hesitated, cheeks warming.
“he talked about me. about us. he told her he wasn’t sure when exactly his feelings started, but that they’re real. he said he treasured the time we spent together, and… that he doesn’t want to lose me again.”
a hush fell over the table.
sunoo looked seconds away from crying, or screaming—or both. riki was slack-jawed. jay and heeseung exchanged stunned, quietly amused glances. while jake and sunghoon just blinked as they process what you just revealed.
“he even said,” you added softly, “that he’s scared to tell me how he feels. because he thinks… maybe i don’t like him back. or maybe i still hate him.”
sunoo let out a groan that could probably be heard from space.
“this man,” kazuha muttered, shaking her head. “just when we thought he was growing a spine.”
yunjin, though, was already getting down to business.
“exactly why we called you all here,” she said, clapping her hands as if to rally a squad. “he clearly knows how he feels. he’s just afraid to pull the trigger.”
she looked around the table, the strategist in her emerging with gleaming eyes. “and that’s where you guys come in.”
“you guys know jungwon better than anyone,” chaewon added, resting her chin on her hand. “do you have any ideas on how to finally get him to confess?”
there was a pause—just long enough for everyone to exchange a glance.
and then the brainstorming began.
after that eventful day at the café, you hadn’t expected the plan to roll out quite so quickly—but apparently, the universe had other ideas. or, more accurately, yunjin and her covert operation had other ideas.
the plan was deceptively simple: do something—anything—to catch jungwon’s attention and make him think you guys have a lot in common. but if he remained tragically oblivious or did not make a first move, then it was back to the drawing board, where your self-appointed love strategists would cook up something even bolder.
the first mission? color theory.
according to sunoo, jungwon had an odd but adorable preference for certain colors—specifically, blue and orange. something about the contrast, he said once, made things feel “alive.”
and so, like a secret agent with a romantic agenda, you began to subtly incorporate those shades into your outfits whenever you stopped by his apartment. soft blues, dusky oranges, a careful balance between effort and nonchalance.
the first day you tried it, you wore a pale blue hoodie. comfortable, oversized, with sleeves that almost swallowed your hands. it wasn’t exactly dramatic, but it did the trick.
jungwon opened the door, expecting the usual casual drop-in, but the moment his eyes landed on you, he paused—his gaze lingering.
his expression flickered from confusion to curiosity to something fond and unspoken.
you pretended not to notice.
as if on cue, yami trotted into the living room with a delighted meow, her fluffy tail high as she greeted you like royalty. you moved to the couch and sat down, letting her claim your lap as her rightful throne. she curled up there contentedly, purring like a tiny motor.
jungwon, still oddly quiet, sat beside you—not too close, but closer than usual. his eyes kept darting to your hoodie. you could feel the stare, like a gentle poke to your side that begged to be acknowledged.
finally, you gave in. you turned to him, head tilted slightly, the universal expression for ‘what?’
he blinked, caught. his hand rose to scratch the back of his neck—his telltale nervous habit—before he spoke.
“that hoodie looks good on you. blue suits you,” he said, eyes dipping briefly to the fabric before glancing away again. “i think i have the exact same hoodie.”
his voice was casual, but you noticed the faint blush blooming across his cheeks. subtle. sweet.
“really?” you asked, eyes lighting up with faux surprise. “can i see it?”
he froze for half a second, as if you’d just asked to see his childhood diary. but then he nodded, disappearing into his room with a bit more urgency than expected.
you waited, smiling to yourself, still absentmindedly petting yami as she purred in your lap. a few minutes later, jungwon returned, holding a hoodie that looked completely identical to yours.
same shade of light blue. same brand. same design. even the same texture.
“twins,” you said with a grin, reaching out to brush your fingers along the fabric before handing it back to him. “why don’t you wear it, too? we can match.”
his eyes widened a fraction. “like… couple hoodies?”
you shrugged, playful. “if that’s what you want to call it.”
his blush deepened, but he didn’t argue. with a quick nod, he retreated back into his room—and emerged a moment later wearing the hoodie.
it fit him perfectly, the soft color making him look even softer somehow. he sat back down beside you, a little more relaxed now, like he’d slipped into something familiar and comforting. you looked at the two of you—side by side, almost completely identical besides the size—and you couldn’t help but smile.
you looked like a pair.
this plan has been going on for a week now. every day, without fail, you showed up at jungwon’s apartment clad in soft blues and burnt oranges—the very colors he subconsciously adored. and every day, like clockwork, he’d compliment your outfit with a shy smile and, more often than not, disappear into his room only to return wearing something that matched. a hoodie. a t-shirt. once, even socks.
you were like a walking color palette curated just for him.
it was sweet, yes. flattering, even. but also... painfully stagnant.
because that was it.
no sudden confessions. no heart-stopping declarations. just matching clothes and stolen glances.
so naturally, after another fruitless day of wearing his favorite shades, you texted the group chat—the now highly classified collaboration between your friend group and jungwon’s.
you:
operation: get this oblivious man to confess.
status: failed. again.
i repeat: we are not making progress. new plan. urgently needed.
and just like that, it was back to the drawing board.
over the course of the next few weeks, the plans escalated from mildly clever to questionably elaborate. it became a symphony of his favorite things: favorite colors, favorite foods, favorite bands, favorite music, favorite movie genres—even a casual detour to his favorite ramen place “by coincidence.”
jungwon, blissfully unaware of the scheming, simply marveled at how much the two of you seemed to have in common.
he thought it was fate. you knew it was group chat coordination and a spreadsheet titled “jungwon's weaknesses.”
but he was happy. so, in a way, you were too.he treasured every moment with you and yami, finding comfort in your growing presence in his life. for him, this was enough—for now.
but your friends? his friends?
absolutely not.
currently, you were all crammed into the modest but cozy dorm shared by yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon. it had officially become mission control—your war room, your crisis center, your love-struck headquarters.
the scene was... tragic.
a few of them were sprawled across the carpet like they’d lost the will to live, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if the answer to all your problems might magically appear there. others were aimlessly scrolling through their phones, munching on chips with the empty gaze of strategists defeated by romance.
the silence dragged until sunoo suddenly shot upright, flailing his arms in sheer exasperation.
“why won’t he do anything?! it’s been a months!” he wailed, as if the heavens themselves had betrayed him.
he collapsed back dramatically, burying his face in a pillow, still muttering indignantly. “one. whole. month. and not even a hint of a love confession. he’s killing me. i am being emotionally murdered by my best friend.”
the rest of the room groaned in agreement.
chaewon looked like she was considering faking a faint just to escape the stress. jay was lying face-down on the floor like a corpse. riki was balancing a cookie on his nose. kazuha was aggressively munching on chips while nodding solemnly.
“it’s starting to feel like we’re trying to romance him,” jake muttered from the corner. “we’ve done everything but write him a love letter ourselves.”
“don’t tempt me,” yunjin said, half-joking, half-not. “i’ll forge y/n’s handwriting and do it.”
you sighed, flopping onto the nearest cushion. “he’s just… happy spending time with me. like that’s enough for him.”
sunghoon raised a brow. “and for you?”
you hesitated. “i also love hanging out with him but… it’s not enough for me.”
the silence that followed was understanding. not pitying. just quiet solidarity, like everyone collectively exhaled the weight of your mutual frustration.
because love, even the most obvious kind, still needed a push sometimes.
a collective sigh swept across the room. your friends looked utterly defeated, heads thrown back, lips pressed into thin lines, while jungwon’s friends resembled mourners at the funeral of common sense—grieving the tragic loss of their best friend’s ability to take a hint.
riki, who had been quietly munching on snacks moments earlier, now rested his head against kazuha’s shoulder with the solemn energy of a small, heartbroken puppy.
“i just wish he’d be honest with himself for once,” he mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor. “like, just say whatever he’s thinking out loud. even if it’s dumb. especially if it’s dumb.”
sunoo, still pouting like a betrayed rom-com sidekick, nodded in agreement. “right? like that one time when—”
his words abruptly halted mid-sentence, as if someone had hit pause on his train of thought. his eyes slowly widened, shifting to riki—who, in perfect sync, blinked back at him.
click.
you could almost hear the spark of realization zip between them like a cartoon lightbulb flickering to life. something had clicked. hard.
and suddenly, without warning, the once hopeless energy in the room transformed. it was subtle at first—the way riki sat up straighter, the way sunoo’s pout curled into a knowing smirk—but it sent a ripple through everyone.
your group looked around in confusion, collectively sensing the shift but too lost to decode it.
“uh... what just happened?” you asked, brows furrowed.
jungwon’s friends, now spring-loaded with new energy, were already standing up and grabbing their bags like a SWAT team mobilizing.
“nothing, nothing. you don’t have to worry,” sunoo said with an excessively sweet smile that immediately made you more worried. “we’ll handle jungwon, okay?”
you, yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon could only stare as the six boys—sunoo, riki, jake, sunghoon, jay, and heeseung—swiftly gathered their belongings with an almost eerie efficiency.
kazuha raised an eyebrow. “you guys have a new plan or something?”
riki turned as the group reached the door, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “yep. and don’t stress. just be ready, because he might start talking tomorrow.”
and with that cryptic farewell, he chuckled and gave a casual wave before they all slipped out into the hallway, disappearing down the corridor like they were on a secret mission.
you and the girls stood frozen at the door for a few lingering seconds before slowly closing it and returning to the couch.
“now i’m scared for jungwon,” kazuha said plainly as she collapsed onto the couch, arms flopping like a tired starfish.
you followed suit, dropping beside her. “same. what are they even planning?”
“who knows,” yunjin murmured.
chaewon leaned her head back, eyes closed. “nah, sunoo could never hurt a fly.”
kazuha looked up from where she had been checking her phone and said calmly, “yeah, but his friends aren’t flies. they’re very much human.”
chaewon blinked at her, processing that for a full second before sighing and muttering a quiet curse under her breath. “why is she right.”
you pulled a pillow into your lap, hugging it as you stared at the ceiling. something told you that tomorrow was going to be interesting—maybe even historic.
whatever jungwon’s friends had planned, it was likely to be dramatic, probably borderline absurd, and definitely chaotic.
but what if it finally made him speak up?
then you were ready.or… at least, you hoped you were.
tomorrow was coming. and with it, possibly, jungwon’s long-awaited confession.
finally?
the next day arrived like a reluctant sigh—slow, inevitable, and accompanied by the low thrum of resistance humming in jungwon’s chest.
he stood in his apartment, tugging down the hem of his cardigan with a subtle frown, not quite in the mood to go out. but after weeks of dodging his friends’ invitations with careful excuses and polite declines, he had finally run out of ways to say no.
they’d been patient. understanding, even—especially after everything that happened with yami. but now that she was nearly fully healed and walking around the apartment like the tiny empress she was, they were expecting jungwon to finally hang out with them.
sunoo, in particular, had taken it personally. he’d pouted dramatically over the phone, threatening their friendship in a tone that was half-joking, half-serious. “if you don’t come out tonight, i’m cutting you off. this is the final straw, jungwon. friendship—terminated.”
jungwon rolled his eyes at the memory, though a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. how could he explain that the reason he kept staying home wasn’t because he was still worrying about yami—but because he wanted to be with you?
of course, it wasn’t something he could admit. not to them, and definitely not to you. not yet.
he glanced at the mirror, smoothing down his light grey zip-up cardigan. the fabric was soft, the kind that almost whispered luxury without trying too hard. he left the zipper partially undone, revealing a bit of the neckline—just enough to look effortless. his sleeves were pushed up carelessly to his forearms, revealing the delicate structure of his wrists and a single, subtle bracelet that gleamed quietly under the light.
his trousers were dark and wide-legged, the tailored fabric falling in elegant folds to his shoes. the contrast of light and shadow in his outfit gave him a clean, poised silhouette that felt both casual and refined.
he looked… good.
not that it mattered. they were just going out for drinks—maybe some bar hopping. nothing serious. nothing that required him to look this put together. and yet, here he was.
he picked up his phone and quickly tapped out a message.
jungwon (yami's dad):
can you stay with yami tonight?
going out w the guys. don’t know how long i’ll be.
you replied almost instantly, enthusiastically even.
you:
ofc! 😺
moments later, you were at his door.
after knocking softly, you typed in the familiar passcode and stepped inside—only to pause mid-step when jungwon walked out of his room.
your breath caught in your throat.
he looked good, so good.
well, he looks good all the time but this was different.
it's the kind of good that made your brain momentarily glitch. the cardigan, the trousers, the sleeves, the slightly tousled hair that looked like it was styled without trying (but definitely was)... he looked like someone who should be stepping out of a commercial, not his apartment.
he noticed your staring.
with a teasing smile, he rolled up his sleeves again, this time slowly and deliberately, as if to say, ‘is this what got you flustered?’
you tried to recover quickly, straightening your posture and pretending not to be affected, even as your cheeks burned with the telltale warmth of a silent blush.
he stopped just in front of you and leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne brushing against your senses—clean, subtle, comforting.
“i’ll be heading out now,” he said, voice soft, eyes flicking toward your forehead as if contemplating something. for a split second, he looked like he might lean forward… like he might kiss your forehead.
but instead, his hand lifted, and he gently patted your head.
your heart dropped in confusion and rose again in flustered disbelief.
“i don’t know when i’ll be back, so don’t wait up,” he added with a little smile.
you blinked. still stunned. the only word that managed to escape your lips was a quiet, “okay.”
he laughed softly at your dazed state before turning toward the door.
you and yami followed him to the door, watching as he slipped into his shoes and cracked the door open.
and just as he was about to step out, he paused.
he turned his head and saw the two of you still standing there.
the scene was oddly domestic. cozy. familiar in a way he hadn’t expected. like you were walking him out the door… like the two of you had been married and living together for years. (delusional)
like this was normal.
the thought made his heart stutter.
he almost stepped back inside. almost said something.
but his phone rang, sharp and abrupt.
sunoo.
with a quiet sigh, jungwon gave one final wave, the blush now clearly blooming across his cheeks, and walked out the door, answering the call.
“yeah, yeah, i’m on my way—calm down,” he muttered, the door shutting softly behind him.
you stood there in the silence, yami weaving around your ankles as if she too sensed that something important had just almost happened.
and maybe it had.
maybe tonight… would finally be the beginning of everything you’d both been waiting for.
you knew something was up the moment jungwon asked you to stay with yami. not just because he rarely left her side, but because of last night’s secretive energy back at yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon’s dorm—your shared war room for scheming, planning, and borderline conspiracy.
riki had said it so confidently. “just be ready,” he’d told you with a sly smile, practically radiating mischief. “because he might start talking tomorrow.”
well, today was tomorrow. and while you knew the plan was already in motion, you were still utterly in the dark about what it actually was. they had refused to say a word more, acting like members of a high-level government operation sworn to secrecy.
meanwhile, outside the apartment building, jungwon had just stepped into the cool dusk air when a sleek dark gray SUV rolled up to the curb like a scene from a low-budget spy movie. the tinted windows hummed down slowly, revealing a familiar face in the front passenger seat—heeseung, grinning like he was up to something illegal along with jay behind the wheel.
jungwon blinked.
at the second row, sunoo and riki were already squished together, waving like kids on a roller coaster. in the very back, jake and sunghoon gave exaggerated thumbs-ups, clearly delighted with themselves.
“get in, loser. we’re rekindling our friendship,” sunoo announced gleefully, leaning out of the window just enough to sound threateningly persuasive.
jungwon laughed under his breath. ‘were they always this dramatic?’ he shook his head, climbed into the SUV, and settled beside sunoo—who immediately looped his arm through jungwon’s like they were about to skip through a field of daisies together.
“finally!” sunoo beamed. “you’re actually hanging out with us again. this is a monumental day. we’re gonna have the best night of our lives. you’re not allowed to escape.”
jungwon chuckled, amused but slightly wary. the energy in the car was way too high for a simple night out. it was… suspicious. very suspicious. but also, a little endearing.
“you guys missed me that much, huh?” he teased, and sunghoon dramatically clutched his chest from the back row.
“more than oxygen,” jake added solemnly.
the drive to the bar was filled with chaotic laughter, bad singing, and increasingly ridiculous stories that may or may not have been fabricated. jungwon smiled, enjoying the moment—genuinely glad to be with them again. maybe he had been too withdrawn lately.
once they reached their destination, jay parked the car and the group prepared to face the bouncer. they lined up, IDs in hand, expecting to be scrutinized for every facial hair and birth year.
but the bouncer? he barely glanced at them before stepping aside with an indifferent nod.
they hadn’t even spoken.
“did we… just pass the vibe check without trying?” riki whispered, impressed.
“we must've looked mature,” jay muttered proudly, fixing the collar of his shirt.
inside, the bar greeted them with pulsing lights, music so loud it practically rearranged their organs, and a potent mix of alcohol, cologne, and lingering vape clouds that clung to the air like fog in a neon forest.
sunoo, ever the planner, had already reserved a table—far enough from the speakers to allow conversation, but still close enough to soak in the lively atmosphere. the table was tucked neatly into a corner, giving them a small bubble of privacy amidst the chaos.
menus were passed around, drinks were ordered, and conversations blossomed with the kind of ease that only long-time friends could afford. the night was young, the energy was high, and jungwon, blissfully unaware, had no idea what storm his friends were brewing around him.
meanwhile, you sat on the other side of the city, curled up on his couch, still unaware of the details—but knowing full well that something was about to go down. and unlike jungwon, at least you had the comfort of knowing.
because while jungwon was sipping his drink in clueless contentment, you were bracing yourself.
for what exactly, you didn’t know.
but you had a feeling the night would end with something unforgettable—for both of you.
you had every intention of staying up for jungwon.
even though he had told you not to wait, had patted your head with that soft smile and said, “don’t wait up,” like it was a gentle command. but something about his absence made the apartment feel a little too quiet, too still. and you were curious—nervous, even. wondering what his friends had schemed, wondering how he was doing, wondering if he'd come back different.
but in the end, sleep had other plans. you had dozed off on the couch, curled beneath a light blanket, with yami snuggled against your hip like a tiny, living heater. the soft rhythm of her breathing, the faint hum of the apartment, and the warmth of the room all pulled you under before you could even fight it.
hours passed unnoticed.
until the doorbell rang.
you groaned softly, peeling your eyes open as if the weight of sleep clung to your lashes. your limbs felt sluggish, your mind still lost in that foggy space between dreams and reality.
the bell rang again.
you sat up in a daze, suddenly struck by the realization: this isn't your apartment.
your eyes widened as you looked around the familiar space. jungwon’s apartment. which meant—that might be him at the door.
but why wasn’t he using the password?
confused and still slightly disoriented, you stumbled toward the door, blinking the sleep from your eyes, and pulled it open.
and there he was.
jungwon.
he stood swaying gently, looking far too relaxed for someone upright. his cardigan was rumpled, and his smile—oh, his smile—was crooked, lazy, too wide for his own face. he looked like someone who had just made friends with the moon.
on either side of him, like glorified babysitters, stood sunoo and riki. each of them had one of jungwon’s arms slung over their shoulders, holding him up like he was made of spaghetti noodles and poor choices.
you blinked. slowly. “what... is this?”
sunoo’s expression was bright and unbothered, like this was all part of a perfectly ordinary evening. “he’s all yours now,” he chirped, not even attempting to hide the amusement dancing in his eyes.
riki gave you a grin, half mischief, half solidarity. “good luck. he gets clingy.”
before you could protest, they helped jungwon inside with theatrical care and let the door close softly behind them.
and just like that, you were alone.
alone with jungwon’s dazed laughter echoing through the room, and yami blinking at him like he had brought chaos home in a cardigan.
he flopped onto the couch with a dramatic exhale, arms spread like he was melting into it. his hair was tousled, the kind of perfect mess that looked like it belonged in a drama scene. a few strands had fallen over his eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. or care.
you stood there for a moment, arms crossed, staring down at him like he was both the problem and the puzzle.
you weren’t sure whether to scold him for coming home like this or wrap him up in a blanket burrito and protect him from the world.
you chose the latter.
softening, you walked to the kitchen, filled a glass of water, and crouched beside the couch. “here,” you said quietly, holding it out to him.
jungwon blinked at you like you were a dream he wasn’t quite sure he deserved. his fingers curled around the glass clumsily, and he took a few slow sips, lips brushing the rim with exaggerated focus.
then he handed it back with care and looked at you—really looked at you.
his gaze was heavy, unfiltered, drenched in quiet affection and a boldness that only came with just enough alcohol to silence overthinking. his eyes didn't move away like they usually did. no. they stayed. steady. sincere.
his gaze held yours with a kind of tender stubbornness, like even the soft haze of intoxication couldn’t dull the clarity of what he felt in this moment.
“you’re… so pretty,” he blurted out, the words tumbling out of his mouth without a filter, carried by something braver than sobriety.
you sighed, equal parts amused and exasperated. “you’re drunk,” you mumbled under your breath as you reached out to help him sit up. he was trying to rise on his own but looked like he was fighting gravity itself—and losing.
but he didn’t stop talking.
“do you know,” he began, his voice low and hoarse, slurred at the edges but still oddly steady, “why i started ignoring you?”
your hands froze mid-motion. your breath caught in your throat. something about his tone—raw, unguarded—felt like a door creaking open.
“why?” you asked quietly.
he smiled. not the kind you were used to—the charming, boyish kind. this one was tinged with something softer. something closer to regret.
“because… you kissed yami. like, a lot.” he said, and even through the thick fog of his drunkenness, he sounded sincerely wounded. “her face was all pink and smudgy. i don't know why but i said that she was so lucky and i think i was jealous?”
you blinked, stunned for a moment. “you were… jealous? of your cat?”
“she got your kisses,” he mumbled, brows furrowing in a pout that should not have looked this tragic. “i didn’t.”
your heart gave a wild, unexpected flutter.
he shifted upright with effort, his body swaying just slightly, but his eyes never left yours. “and then... that night. after the welcoming party. you kissed me too. do you remember?”
you stared at him, your mind flipping through every mental file, every hazy memory. you kissed him? no. surely not. you would’ve remembered something like that... wouldn’t you?
his fingers brushed your cheek then—tentative, reverent. his palm came to rest along the curve of your jaw, cradling your face like it was something delicate. precious.
“you kissed me here,” he whispered, and his lips pressed softly to the apple of your cheek.
your breath hitched.
“and here,” he added, his mouth brushing the tip of your nose like a feather.
“and here,” he breathed as he kissed your forehead before lowering his forehead until it touched yours, skin to skin, warm and close and impossibly intimate.
his lips hovered just above yours now. not quite a kiss, not yet. just a breath. a memory waiting to be rewritten. a question waiting to be answered.
“and then… here.”
you could feel the warmth of his lips ghost over yours—barely there, light as air. your fingers instinctively curled around his wrist.
“jungwon… you’re drunk,” you said gently, quietly. it was half a plea, half a warning, and yet your voice came out softer than you'd intended.
but he didn’t move away.
instead, he pulled you closer with a steadiness that defied the haze in his eyes. slow, unhurried, like this wasn’t just a whim, but something he’d thought about—wanted—for longer than you realized.
your knees ended up on either side of his thighs, settling on his lap as if it was the most natural thing in the world. your palms landed on his chest, feeling the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers.
the space between your faces disappeared entirely now—just breath, and heat, and the tension of something unspoken finally reaching the edge of being said.
and still, he looked at you.
like he was waiting for permission.
“do you really want me to stop?” he asked, his voice a quiet murmur, almost afraid of the answer.
you didn’t say a word.
but silence, as it often is between two people standing on the edge of something fragile and real, was louder than any yes. louder than hesitation.
and that silence—your silence—was enough.
jungwon leaned in and kissed you. softly, at first. tentative, like testing the weight of a dream. his lips brushed against yours with such gentle care it made your chest ache. but then—slowly—need bled into the kiss, a hunger born not of impulse but of everything unsaid between you for far too long. he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, capturing your bottom lip between his and letting it go just to taste it again.
his hands slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips feathering over your spine like a whisper. your own hands moved to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, seeking something solid in a moment that felt like it might melt around you.
the kiss turned messier—open mouths, breathless sighs, hearts racing beneath skin that begged to be touched.
he tugged at the edge of your shirt, lifting it gently with a question in his eyes, one he didn’t need to voice. you raised your arms, granting silent permission. he slid the fabric off of you in one slow motion, letting it fall to the floor with a quiet rustle. you mirrored the action, unzipping his cardigan before helping it off him completely until nothing separated the heat between your bodies.
bare skin met bare skin.
it was warmth and want and wonder. the soft curve of his back beneath your palms, the steady rise of his chest against yours, the low hum of his breath as he continues to kiss you.
jungwon’s lips trailed to your jaw, his breath trembling slightly as he kissed lower, slower, mapping a path along your neck like he was trying to memorize the taste of you. he left warm, fluttering marks with his mouth, his lips brushing against your collarbone. you gasped—a soft, surprised sound that made his fingers dig a little deeper into your waist.
he smiled against your skin.
but then, just as suddenly, he stopped moving.
you stilled. “jungwon?” you asked, breath catching in your throat.
no answer.
you pulled back slightly, eyes scanning his face.
his eyes were closed. his breathing… steady.
he was asleep.
just like that.
you stared at him for a moment, absolutely dumbfounded. you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—or shake him awake just to scold him.
instead, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaped your lips.
“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you whispered, brushing a few loose strands of hair from his forehead with a kind of fondness you didn’t mean to show so obviously.
he mumbled something incoherent in reply, still lost in sleep.
you kissed him again—just a quick, affectionate peck on his lips, careful not to wake him. then, with a sigh and a small shake of your head, you eased off his lap and gently laid him down fully on the couch, his limbs heavy and completely relaxed.
you spotted his cardigan that you took off, draped over the armrest. slipping it on, you were immediately enveloped in his warmth and scent—his perfume, the smell of alcohol, and something unmistakably him.
after adjusting the blanket over his body and yours, you curled beside him, finding space between his arm and chest. your head rested against his heart, its rhythm calm and grounding. yami jumped up and found her usual place at your feet, her tiny purring adding a soft hum to the quiet.
and slowly—wrapped in warmth, tangled in limbs and cardigan threads, and bathed in the stillness of the moment—you fell asleep.
smiling.
morning came, light slipping through the curtains and onto jungwon’s face with no mercy. his head pulsed with a dull, insistent ache—the hangover had arrived, cruel and unapologetic.
he groaned, voice hoarse, and shifted slightly beneath the blanket, only to realize there was something—or someone—heavy on his chest. in his hazy mind, the answer was obvious.
“yami,” he croaked, eyes still closed. “get off my chest, please.”
nothing.
he furrowed his brows and tried again, his voice a little more desperate. “yami, come on. i’m dying.”
still, no response—until a soft meow broke the silence. but it came from a different direction. a few inches above his head, in fact.
he forced one eye open, squinting against the light.
there she was—yami. perched neatly atop the sofa’s backrest, blinking down at him with a judgmental gaze only a cat could manage. she let out another quiet meow, almost as if to say, ‘don’t drag me into your mess, human.’
jungwon blinked. once. twice.
“…if yami is there,” he muttered to himself, brain still wrapped in fog, “then what the hell is on my chest?”
slowly, hesitantly, he tilted his head down.
and then he saw you.
his breath caught in his throat. time stopped.
you were curled up against him, your head resting peacefully on his bare chest, arm loosely draped around his waist. tangled in the same blanket, legs slightly entwined, breaths rising and falling in quiet sync. your face was relaxed, framed gently by your hair, and far too close to the danger zone that was his heart.
jungwon’s face flushed red instantly, color creeping up his neck to his ears like wildfire.
‘i’m shirtless,’ he realized with a jolt, instinctively pulling his hands away from where they’d unknowingly rested—close enough to feel your warmth.
his mind raced.
‘okay. think. what happened last night?’
he squinted at the ceiling, piecing together fragments of memory—his friends, the bar, music loud enough to shake his bones, too many drinks passed around, laughter, and bad dancing. and then… blank.
nothing about this.
and just as he started to panic further, you moved.
a soft hum escaped your lips as you nestled closer to him, face brushing against the crook of his neck like you belonged there. your hand slid slightly across his chest, warm palm resting right over his heartbeat.
he made a strangled noise—something between a gasp and a prayer.
his heart thudded loudly under your touch, so loud he was certain you’d wake up and hear it screaming. he bit down on his bottom lip to keep himself quiet.
“she’s gonna be the death of me,” he thought, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers to the universe—or at least to why his chest was now a pillow.
after a few deep breaths, he mustered the courage to lift a shaky hand and gently tapped your shoulder.
“hey…” he whispered, as softly as his rattled nerves allowed. “wake up.”
you groaned in response, furrowing your brows. instead of pulling away, you buried your face deeper into his neck, your hand unconsciously splaying more firmly across his chest.
jungwon stopped breathing for a second.
he was certain this moment would either kill him or convert him into a monk.
he couldn’t help it anymore.
‘when will i ever get to hug her like this again?’ the thought whispered through jungwon’s mind like a confession. his restraint crumbled.
before reason could intervene, his arms moved on their own—wrapping tightly around you, drawing you even closer into his chest as though you were something precious he was afraid to lose. his face nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the quiet scent of you—soft, familiar, calming. then, as if overcome by a sudden, overwhelming wave of affection, he began to pepper gentle kisses across the top of your head. once. twice. again. and again.
it was, without a doubt, a case of cuteness aggression. your mere presence in his arms was too much for his heart to handle.
but even in the bliss of the moment, a sliver of panic returned.
‘she’s going to wake up and freak out,’ he thought, dread seeping in. ‘she’s going to scream or hit me or—’
he didn’t know that you already knew. and that you wouldn't be surprised. not even a little.
with a reluctant sigh, he slowly pulled back from the embrace, letting his arms fall away from your frame. he hesitated before gently shaking your shoulder, trying to rouse you from sleep—soft enough not to startle, but persistent enough to work.
and this time, it did.
you stirred with a groan, blinking up at him with a single eye, your features still heavy with sleep. and then, to his complete confusion, you smiled.
‘why is she smiling?’ his mind stumbled. ‘isn’t she supposed to—panic? shove me off?’
but instead, you just said, “good morning,” in that warm, slightly raspy morning voice of yours, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
and then you moved. shifted upward. now fully lying on top of him.
your chin came to rest gently on his chest, eyes gazing up into his, content and unbothered—as though this kind of closeness was your everyday routine. jungwon, meanwhile, was malfunctioning.
he stared down at you, blinking as though he’d forgotten how to speak. the soft morning light was pooling through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your face, illuminating your smile, making you look absolutely ethereal. breathtaking. like a dream.
he felt like his brain had unplugged itself.
you tilted your head slightly, curious at his speechlessness. amused, even.
a few long seconds passed before he finally remembered how to use words. “g-good morning,” he stammered, voice embarrassingly unsteady.
you chuckled, the sound bright and airy. you knew exactly what he was feeling—flustered, completely thrown off-guard by your lack of panic and your excessive proximity.
you stayed like that for a while, tangled in the stillness of morning, the silence between you stretching comfortably. but as you looked down at him, you noticed something odd—his arms were no longer wrapped around you. they were just… floating awkwardly near his head, like he didn’t know where to put them or if he was even allowed to touch you anymore.
you pouted slightly.
he cleared his throat, clearly trying to maintain whatever was left of his composure.
you tilted your head again, brows raised in silent question—‘what’s wrong?’
he spoke at last, though his voice stumbled out in fragments.
“w-what... happened last night?”
you blinked at him, momentarily stunned. then, after a beat, a quiet, amused breath escaped you—something between a laugh and a sigh.
he doesn’t remember.
you thought he was just feeling flustered. you were't expecting him to not remember what happened last night.
you shook your head, lips quirking upward as you looked down at him, amused by how truly lost he looked. jungwon, still blinking rapidly, stared up at you like you’d just started speaking in riddles.
‘why is she laughing?’ his eyes seemed to plead for an explanation. ‘did i say something weird? embarrassing? did i do something—’
“i knew it,” you murmured under your breath, as if confirming something long suspected.
“knew what?” he asked instinctively, but you didn’t answer right away. instead, you leaned down and pinched his cheek gently, earning a startled blink from him.
“good thing you’re cute,” you said, voice laced with mock severity—then kissed his cheek once. twice. and then a third time for good measure.
he froze beneath your touch, brain flickering between mild panic and pure confusion. ‘what is happening?’ he thought, nearly out loud. ‘why is she kissing me like that?’
but before he could find a thread of logic to cling to, your voice returned—light, sweet, but with a sharpness that made him straighten slightly.
“but being cute won’t cut it,” you said casually, brushing your fingers against his jaw. “i’m mad at you for what you did last night.”
his eyes flew open, alarm setting in like a sudden gust of cold air.
‘what did i do? why is she mad? did i say something stupid? did i cross a line? did i—’
you could practically hear the flurry of panicked questions buzzing inside his head, written all over his expression.
you pushed yourself up, and in doing so, you revealed something that nearly sent him into cardiac arrest.
his breath caught audibly.
you were wearing nothing but your bra and—his cardigan. the same light grey one he’d worn out last night, now draped loosely over your shoulders, the sleeves falling past your fingertips, the fabric hanging open just enough to hint at what lay beneath.
jungwon’s brain, already short-circuiting, utterly failed him now. he averted his eyes like they burned, cheeks rapidly turning crimson.
‘why is she in my cardigan? why isn’t she wearing a shirt? are those—’ his eyes darted back to you for a second before retreating again— ‘are those... hickeys? on her neck? on her collarbone? did i... did i do that?’
he gulped audibly.
you let out another small laugh, not unkind—just endlessly amused by how adorably flustered he was. you reached out, cupping his cheek once more, and gently turned his face back toward yours.
“let’s get up,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his skin. “i know you're having the worst hangover right now.”
you sat up properly, tying your hair back with practiced ease. he barely processed it—still staring at you like you were both a miracle and a mystery.
then, without another word, you stood, stretched with a quiet hum, and padded off toward the kitchen, the oversized cardigan swaying around your frame.
jungwon watched you go in stunned silence, still flat on the couch like a man recovering from a fever dream.
he wasn’t sure if he needed water, a cold shower, or divine intervention.
but one thing was certain: he was absolutely, entirely, and hopelessly in trouble.
and he doesn't know why but he didn’t even mind.
a few minutes passed before jungwon finally pulled himself off the sofa. his legs felt heavier than usual, and his mind still lagged a step behind reality. he glanced down, finding himself obviously shirtless, his belt hanging loosely from the loops of his pants—undone, though mercifully still fastened enough to maintain his dignity. remembering the faint trace of hickeys left on your neck and collarbone wasn’t helping his spiraling thoughts.
his gaze fell to the shirt on the floor.
your shirt.
meanwhile, you were already in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you prepared coffee for the both of you—moving with the kind of casual grace that comes from being completely comfortable in someone else’s space, wearing someone else’s cardigan, and looking entirely unbothered by last night’s events.
when you turned around with two mugs in hand, you were momentarily startled to see jungwon standing just across the island counter.
or rather—hiding.
he had draped the blanket from the couch over his head and shoulders like a makeshift cloak of shame, the edges nearly brushing the floor.
you blinked. and then you burst out laughing.
“seriously?” you giggled. “you look like a sad little ghost.”
“i feel like one,” he muttered from beneath the blanket.
still grinning, you set the mugs down and gently slid his toward him. “sit down, ghost boy. drink your coffee before you wither into the afterlife.”
he obeyed, sinking onto one of the stools without saying another word. he murmured a soft thank you, fingers curling around the warmth of the mug as though it could anchor him back to sanity. what it couldn’t help with, however, was the sight of you.
you were still wearing his cardigan—unzipped, loose—and underneath it, just your bra.
jungwon did his best to avert his gaze, sipping his coffee like it was holy water, but every time his eyes drifted, they betrayed him. the curve of your collarbone, the way the cardigan slipped off one shoulder, the slight sway of your hips when you turned...
he was convinced he was going to pass out before breakfast.
you didn’t make it any easier. in fact, you turned away again with a mischievous hum and started grabbing ingredients.
“i’m making toast with bacon and eggs. that cool?” you asked, already slipping slices of bread into the toaster, cracking eggs with practiced ease.
“y-yeah, that’s fine,” he answered, voice barely above a whisper.
you smiled softly to yourself and continued cooking.
once everything was done, you plated the food with care and brought the dishes over. jungwon cleared his throat awkwardly, the silence growing heavier between you as he dared to speak.
“i’m... shirtless,” he pointed out, as if it had just occurred to him.
you looked up from your plate, blinked once, then nodded. “mhm. noticed that earlier.”
he squinted at you. “and are you even planning on giving me back my cardigan?”
you looked down at the soft fabric wrapped around you, then back at him with a smirk playing at your lips. casually, you leaned forward across the island, resting your elbows on the counter and your chin on your hands.
“nah,” you said with a cheeky smile. “i kinda wanna keep it for myself.”
jungwon’s heart practically melted.
‘why is she doing this to me?’ he thought helplessly. ‘why is she so pretty? why is she so dangerous?’
he stared down into his coffee like it held the answers, cheeks still burning as he reached for a piece of toast. you started eating too, the silence now a comfortable one—soft, domestic, filled with the quiet sounds of clinking forks and shared glances.
but eventually, the weight of uncertainty became too much to bear.
he drew in a breath, summoned the last of his courage, and broke the silence again.
“i still... don’t know what happened last night.”
his voice was quiet, sincere. his eyes remained fixed on the rippling surface of his coffee.
the question lingered between you like steam rising from the mugs.
and now, it was your turn to decide what you wanted to give him—truth, reassurance, a tease, or maybe all three.
you were placing the dishes in the sink when he asked.
the plate in your hand hovered mid-air for a moment before you set it down in the sink. a smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you turned toward him.
slowly, you walked over, the echo of your bare feet soft against the tiled floor. jungwon, still wrapped in the couch blanket like some confused ghost, did not lift his gaze. he was doing an impressively terrible job at pretending not to look at you—even though the pink blooming at the tips of his ears gave him away.
he didn’t see you smile.
you came to a stop right beside him. then, gently, you reached out and tilted his face toward yours by the chin.
his breath hitched.
you leaned in, just close enough for your lips to brush the corner of his mouth—a ghost of a kiss, barely there, but it was enough to short-circuit what little brain activity he had left.
his shoulders stiffened. his hands froze around his coffee mug. his pupils dilated like you had cast some sort of spell.
“that’s for you to find out,” you whispered, your voice dipped in honey and mischief.
then your fingers slid up to rest on his cheek, your thumb brushing delicately over his skin—slow, affectionate, and undeniably cruel in the best way. he leaned into your touch without thinking, his eyes searching yours like he was desperately trying to decode whatever language your smile was written in.
“you can handle the cleanup, right?” you asked sweetly, as if you hadn’t just fried his nervous system in one go.
he blinked.
then, still dazed, nodded.
you chuckled—soft and victorious—and turned away. he couldn’t help but watch you as you walked, the hem of his cardigan swaying gently with each step. you pulled it around yourself, zipped it up halfway, and tossed a casual glance over your shoulder.
“i’m keeping your cardigan, by the way. i’ll give it back once you remember. thanks.”
he looked like he was about to combust.
you opened the door, your fingers curled loosely around the frame as you gave him one last wave.
then you were gone, just like that.
the apartment fell into silence again. jungwon remained on his stool, staring at the door like it might offer answers. it didn’t. the only thing that broke the quiet was a soft meow—yami had claimed a seat on the island table and was now staring at him like she wanted answers too.
he groaned, dragging his hands down his face.
“ugh,” he muttered. “she’s trying to kill me. she’s actually trying to kill me. what am i gonna do?!”
his heart was racing. his mind was spinning. and somewhere inside his chest, something unfamiliar and wild and hopeful had begun to bloom.
meanwhile, just next door, you were busy snapping mirror selfies—wearing his cardigan, still warm from him, and grinning like a teenager who just pulled off the perfect prank. the pictures went straight to your group chat with yunjin, kazuha, and chaewon, accompanied by a string of excited emojis and one very smug caption.
you:
mission accomplished. 💅🏻
now all that was left… was to wait.
and see if jungwon would remember—and more importantly, if he’d do something about it.
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final notes⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀i hope you guys enjoyed! part eight, the last update will be posted on wednesday. see you guys! and thank you so much for your love and support!
first love 성훈 𖹭 female reader wc𓈒 1.2k ˃ ᵕ ˂ fluffy, early 80s au, angst WHERE your grandkids ask you about your first love, and you tell them your childhood anecdotes excitedly— and perhaps, too vividly ≛
𝑚. 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍
“gran, who was your first love?”
you sighed at your oldest grandchild, Minjoo, who clung to your sleeve like a lifeline, afraid she'd bump into someone on the street. she had just turned 12, the age where love seemed easy, approachable, and perhaps she had met her first love, no?
Sohee, who held your calloused hands tightly, joined in hastily, strident voice echoing in your ears; “tell us, gran! was he handsome?”
you chuckled to the air, yet the smile didn't quite reach your crinkled eyes. memories washed over you like silk, akin to what a deja vù would make a person feel, and suddenly you felt emotional.
you held them firmly as you crossed the street, feet walking towards the other side of the crosswalk, though they were directionless. your mind was completely astray; “he was good-looking, yes.”
“we want to know! pretty please!” the youngest continued to plead, voice dripping with saccharine.
it was the summer of 1981, when life was careless, easy-going. you had zero concerns besides listening to new pop rock music — hidden, of course, since your mother repudiated all types of tunes if they weren't from church — and preparing yourself for assuming the family's bakery, which would soon be yours if you proved yourself to be deserving of it.
you were seventeen.
reckless; laid-back; fun.
amidst your peaceful environment, going along with it, Park Sunghoon, the guy who laughed bubbly at your terrible dad jokes and joined you on your passing obsessions.
“i bought two, which one?” he queried, stretching two different popsicles under your nose, so close you could barely see it. he didn't give you enough time to answer, though, “why am i even asking? you'll get the strawberry one, right?”
you perked up to look up at him, nodding with a pathetic grin tugging on your rosy lips. he handed it to you, brushing your hands with his icy-cold ones in an electric shock. he kept his arms still for a beat longer than necessary, letting you feel his touch and grow accustomed to it. terrifyingly and deliciously accustomed to it.
when he finally moved away, his head was thrown back as he started cackling nonstop, giving you a perfect view of his milky white teeth, and the melody of his voice coming to your ears like a choir. the sound you could listen to persistently over and over again.
“you think you know too much about me. but i'm a mysterious lady, okay?” you state, chuckling along with him.
he gasps, pretending to be offended, and gives you one of those playful boyish glances you always melted into; “what? did you want the caramel one?”
“no? but it doesn't matter.”
he sits by your side on the wooden bench, shoulders brushing, “you're too mean to me, y/n. you're going to end up hurting my feelings”
you deny it, laughing as he pressed a hand to his chest, portraying how wounded he felt. when you finally convinced him he was the one that was too sensitive, he giggled at you, eyes smiling as well, and although you should feel happy, your chest ached familiarly.
you were betraying yourself. again. allowing yourself to nourish such harmful feelings; to do this to yourself despite second or third judgement.
Sunghoon never knew about your secret crush. nor that everything in you regretted not telling him about it sooner.
perhaps, if you had mustered up the courage to tell him, things may have gone differently; or it wouldn't have hurt so much when you received his wedding invitations, some years later.
what could've happened if, maybe, you released the words that had been stuck in your throat, like a knot, for longer than you could bother to recall?
would he have chosen you?
✪
the evening of his marriage ceremony, you walked into the venue with your heart fluttering rapidly against your ribcage, feeling in your throat.
he was a big friend, therefore it would've been anything but acceptable to not attend it solely because of your past feelings.
except they still felt real. like they've never left
except your pupils still dilated slightly when you looked at him for too long.
you tried not to let your emotions overlap, attempting to shut your longing and pinning down. but it was excessive.
it made you want to throw up. combust eternally until you turned into ashes. it was consuming you.
you treated everyone with extra courtesy, swinging around the dance ball flawlessly, even if you were crumbling down on the inside.
you wished Sunghoon congratulations, gave him the standard amount of money for this kind of celebration and talked plenty.
nobody ever noticed something was wrong. they couldn't even dream of it.
and convincing yourself everything was okay should be enough as well, right?
as the years went by, you also got married, — and invited Sunghoon to it, thought it left you wondering how it would go if he was the groom instead — had children, eventually grandchildren, and grew more and more distant to him.
you missed him occasionally, enough to sting but not enough to suffocate.
you moved on with your life, after all.
now, you are more mature, a responsible, noble woman, with duties and a family to take care of.
yet, you could play pretend and act the same as you acted around him when both of you were 17 and had countless summers left to spend together.
because you never grew up when it came to him. it was like time stopped.
the kids listened to it enthusiastically, restraining themselves from keeping their comments to them. by the end of your anecdote, you'd already been called ‘dumb’ plenty of times and had come to a place completely foreign to yourself after the mark of seventeen.
the Park's diner.
when did your foot lead you here again?
when you opened the metal door, a bell rang with the action. your whole body had shivers running through, because you remembered even the high-pitched sound it made perfectly.
as your eyes wandered around the place — irritatingly similar to what it was when you'd seen it for the last time — it dropped on an elderly man, with starry eyes, wrinkles all over his face and hair turning gray. still, he was dressed impeccably, muttering some old rock under his breath.
he had poorer posture, grip on the broom loosened up. yet, it was him, undeniably.
Sunghoon.
without a doubt, Sunghoon.
he looked up just in time to meet your eyes, and when he did, a flick of awareness washed through his features. then awareness.
his lips curled up in a smile, that same grin you were crazy about, and you returned it.
it didn't hurt. didn't burn.
it just left you wondering why you'd waited so much to do this.
but perhaps, it was because of this feeling. the feeling where you were a hopelessly in love teenager that thought she would never recover from this.
you really didn't recover completely, a stubborn voice inside you shouted, rebelled, but you shut it down hastily.
before you could speak up, your grandkids ran to hug him and give him high-fives, chatting excitedly about school and how their mother was feeling lately.
“Minjoo? you know him?” you asked in a low voice, genuinely confused, and she shrugged it off.
“it’s uncle Sunghoon, gran! he visits us all the time, i thought you knew him”
you nod after some time, letting the information settle itself into your head. you bring your head slowly up to him again, but now it was charged with something else.
gratefulness. longing. an emotion you couldn't describe despite your ‘experience’ in life.
SYNOPSIS — You and Yang Jungwon were both a part of your school’s athletics committee. Usually, in a club, all the members got along, correct? However, that wasn’t the case for you two. Hatred wasn’t enough to describe what you felt for each other. Although, you two had two different roles within the club, he always found a way to get into your head. Even if you hated that aspect of him, your president took it as an opportunity to make you two work together on a very important task—the athletics section of the yearbook. Seems like bad luck does exist.
PAIRING — volleyball-player!jungwon x photographer-fem!reader (ft. enhypen, woonhak from boynextdoor, yujin and wonyoung from ive, ningning from aespa, shotaro from riize, jisung from nct, hong seunghan, jiheon from fromis_9, jongseob and intak from p1harmony, minju from illit, haewon from nmixx, chaehyun from kep1er, and mentions of other idols too)
GENRES(S) — smau + written, enemies to lovers, he fell first he fell harder, forced proximity (?), tutor x tutee, highschool au, nonidol au, sports au, slow burn, fluff, crack, and angst.
WARNING(S) — swearing, random timestamps, bantering, insults, spelling errors (on purpose), kys/kms jokes, threats, mentions of gagging, injury, and mentions of being sick + fainting.
STATUS — completed! (oct 22nd, 2024 - feb 6th, 2025)
TAGLIST IS CLOSED!
ENJOYED? READ THE NI-KI SPINOFF HERE!
PROFILES › ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR
CHAPTER ONE — yang jungwok
CHAPTER TWO — you look schizophrenic
CHAPTER THREE — mistakes my evil twin (0.8k words)
CHAPTER FOUR — OH MY GOD
CHAPTER FIVE — go on without me (0.7k words)
CHAPTER SIX — homozygous
CHAPTER SEVEN — are you stupid? (0.1k words)
CHAPTER EIGHT — BY EMAIL?!$&%
CHAPTER NINE — tell my story thanks!
CHAPTER TEN — road to ***** (0.7k words)
CHAPTER ELEVEN — well….
CHAPTER TWELVE — TAKE IT BACK RIGHT NOW
CHAPTER THIRTEEN — he might fail me yall
CHAPTER FOURTEEN — Who did this to you?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN — that’s kind of kinky…!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN — world pause (1.2k words)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — at what cost? (1.7k words)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — what the fuck (0.3k words)
CHAPTER NINETEEN — Lee Heeseung.
CHAPTER TWENTY — yeah so ABSOLUTELY NOT
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE — attacked with a crutch
CHAPRER TWENTY-TWO — fuck you
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE — k so die
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR — Bro?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE — the return of jungwon…
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX — disgusted (0.6k words)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN — lmaoo wdym ??
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT — no shit ???
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE — Yeah it’s over . bye
CHAPTER THIRTY — for u and ur broke ass
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE — ofc u would biggie
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO — the boy who swore (0.9k words)
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE — ho Speak.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR — you’re on your own, kid
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE — U AINT HOLLYWOOD
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX — #GotSentHome
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN — OH MY GOD??&:%%]
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT — 𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓸𝓷
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE — it must be true love twin!
CHAPTER FORTY — Skin u alive.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE — not once but twice (0.6k words)
