$LAYYYTER
No title available
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Discoholic 🪩
pixel skylines
PR's Tumblrdome
Kiana Khansmith
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Origami Around
KIROKAZE
noise dept.
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
The Stonewall Inn
sheepfilms
todays bird
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Keni
shark vs the universe
Cosmic Funnies
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from France
seen from Japan
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Ukraine
seen from Malaysia
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Malaysia
seen from Algeria
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Pakistan
@miusiz
masterlist
BEFORE YOU FOLLOW / REQUEST:
my pronouns are she/her. i stan boynextdoor. i am gongfourz biased, so most of my works will be about them! request anything and i'll find a way to write it (except explicit things).
[ ENHYPEN (discontinued) ]
NISHIMURA RIKI:
the singer's bassist (part one)
bow to me (part one)
[ BOYNEXTDOOR ]
SUNGHO:
nothing yet.
RIWOO:
nothing yet.
JAEHYUN:
nothing yet.
TAESAN:
nights like this
LEEHAN:
nothing yet.
WOONHAK:
nothing yet.
DAMN, SOME1 TRIED 2 STEAL MY B!TCH ── HAN TAESAN
🎸 Let the fans dream… he’s all yours anyway.
GENRE : fluff, kinda suggestive PAIRING : rockstar!bf!taesan x fem!reader CONTAINS : jealous dynamics, rockstar/fan interactions, teasing banter, and backstage tension. WORD COUNT : 2.1k PLAYLIST : Rockstar Lifestyle by Ken Carson NOTE : the demons won... [written 8 feb]
The arena is already shaking before he even comes on.
You feel it through the concrete floor backstage, through the metal bench you’re perched on, through your ribs. Bass thumps like a second heartbeat. Someone nearby is counting down under their breath. A stagehand jogs past, radio crackling.
Then the lights drop.
The scream that follows is deafening.
You lift your head instinctively, eyes snapping to the monitor mounted on the wall. For a split second, it’s just darkness and noise—then the spotlight hits center stage.
Han Taesan steps into it like he was born there.
The crowd loses its mind.
He’s dressed in black, of course. Guitar slung low, jacket hanging loose, hair already a little messy like he’s been running his hands through it. He grins as the noise crests, head tipping back slightly as if he’s soaking it in.
You smile despite yourself.
That’s him. That stupid, unreal confidence. The way he doesn’t rush the moment, lets them scream until they’re breathless before he even says a word.
“Good evening,” he says into the mic, voice smooth, teasing.
The reaction is feral.
You shake your head softly, fond. You’ve seen this a hundred times—soundchecks, rehearsals, smaller venues before the tours got bigger, louder. Still, there’s something about seeing him like this, commanding thousands of people at once, that makes your chest feel tight in the best way.
He launches into the first song, and the arena moves with him.
Lights strobe. The crowd jumps. He paces the stage like it’s an extension of himself, voice roughening on the chorus, eyes sharp and alive. Sweat darkens the collar of his shirt almost immediately.
You lean closer to the screen without realizing it.
Halfway through the set, you notice the shift.
It’s subtle—just a glance toward the edge of the stage, a half-smile tugging at his mouth. You know that look. You’ve seen it when he’s about to do something reckless. Something he knows will make people lose it.
“Oh no,” you murmur.
Sure enough, he jogs toward the front, still singing, and before security can fully close in, he hops down into the pit.
The scream that erupts is almost painful.
The camera scrambles to follow him, the image shaking as he lands right against the barricade. He doesn’t miss a note. He leans in close to the crowd, mic in one hand, the other braced casually against the railing.
Hands reach for him instantly.
At first it’s just fingertips brushing his arm, grabbing at his sleeve like proof he’s real. You tense, eyes glued to the screen.
Then it escalates.
Someone’s hand slides along his forearm and stays there. Another grips the side of his jacket, tugging him closer. Fingers flatten briefly against his chest, right over his heart.
Your stomach twists.
Taesan laughs into the mic.
Not nervous. Not uncomfortable. He laughs like he’s enjoying himself, like the attention is a current he knows how to ride. He leans closer, voice dropping lower as he sings directly into the crowd, eyes half-lidded, dangerous and playful all at once.
You straighten, arms crossing tight over your chest.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
He lets it happen—lets them touch him, lets the moment stretch, feeds off the noise as the crowd screams his name like they own it. Someone grabs his sleeve again, bolder this time, and he doesn’t pull away immediately.
He smirks.
Your jaw clenches.
You tell yourself it’s fine. This is what being a rockstar looks like. This is the line between performer and audience blurring, the intimacy people pay for. Still, jealousy sparks hot and bright in your chest, impossible to ignore.
That’s your boyfriend.
The camera zooms in just as he tilts his head back, singing the last line of the chorus with his eyes closed, hands still within reach of strangers.
You look away for half a second—then force yourself to look back.
Finally, he pushes off the barricade, laughing breathlessly as security closes in. He vaults back onto the stage in one smooth motion, barely breaking stride. The crowd roars even louder, victorious.
He finishes the song glowing, triumphant, completely at ease.
You are not.
Backstage, someone cheers. Someone else claps. You stay silent, eyes still fixed on the screen as he blows a kiss into the crowd and moves on to the next song like nothing just happened.
He comes offstage buzzing.
You hear him before you see him—laughter, breathless talking, the scrape of boots on concrete. The curtain shifts and then he’s there, flushed and glowing and grinning like the night personally did him a favor.
“Did you hear that crowd?” Taesan says to no one in particular, tugging an in-ear loose. “They were insane—”
Then his eyes land on you.
His grin softens automatically. Like muscle memory.
“There you are,” he says, voice dropping into that familiar warmth. He starts toward you without thinking, arms opening just a little. “I was looking for—”
You don’t let him finish.
You grab his wrist.
Not rough. Just firm enough to stop him short.
He blinks, surprised. “Uh—hi?”
You turn on your heel and start walking.
“Wait,” he laughs, stumbling a half-step to keep up. “Where are we—?”
You don’t answer. You just keep pulling him down the hallway, past open doors and road cases and people who are too busy to question it. Someone calls his name. Someone else gives you a knowing look.
Taesan’s still laughing, confused but clearly entertained. “Okay, okay, I know I did great, but this feels aggressive.”
You find the storage closet and shove the door open. He barely has time to react before you tug him inside and shut it behind you.
The noise of backstage dulls to a muffled hum.
Taesan leans back against the wall, breathless now for an entirely different reason. He looks at you, eyes bright, lips still curved in a smile.
“…What was that for?”
You stare at him.
He waits.
You wait longer.
His smile starts to falter. “Why are you looking at me like that.”
“Oh, now you notice,” you say.
He squints. “Notice what?”
“You,” you snap. “Being very friendly with your fans.”
His eyebrows shoot up. Then—slowly—a grin creeps back in. “Ohhh.”
“Ohhh nothing,” you say. “You were letting them touch you.”
“I was in the crowd,” he says reasonably. “That happens.”
“They had their hands all over you.”
“They were excited.”
“You laughed,” you accuse. “You leaned in. You did that stupid little smirk.”
“My stupid little smirk?” he repeats, offended. “That smirk has a name.”
“Yeah?” you challenge. “What is it.”
He thinks. “Fan service.”
You scoff. “I hate fan service.”
He laughs outright now. “You loved fan service when it was paying for dinner.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“It wasn’t them grabbing you like you were—” you gesture vaguely, frustrated “—like you were up for grabs.”
He steps closer, hands sliding easily onto your waist, thumbs settling like they’ve always belonged there. His tone softens, but the teasing spark stays.
“I wasn’t up for grabs,” he says. “I came back, didn’t I?”
“That’s not the point.”
He tilts his head. “What is the point, then?”
You glare up at him. “You enjoyed it.”
He doesn’t deny it immediately. That alone tells you everything.
“…It’s loud,” he says finally. “It’s a rush. It’s not personal.”
“Didn’t look very impersonal when that one person had their hand on your chest.”
He winces. “Okay, yeah, that one was—”
“Bold.”
“Very bold.”
You cross your arms. “You didn’t stop them.”
He sighs, smiling despite himself. “You’re jealous.”
“I am observant.”
“You’re jealous,” he repeats, delighted.
“I’m territorial.”
“That too.”
You step closer, invading his space on purpose. “They don’t know you. They don’t get to touch you like that.”
His grip on your waist tightens just a fraction. He’s staring at you now, something soft and unmistakably lovestruck settling into his expression.
“You know,” he says quietly, “I could hear ten thousand people screaming my name out there.”
“And yet?”
“And yet this is scarier,” he finishes, smiling.
You fight the urge to smile back. “You think this is funny.”
“I think,” he says, leaning in, “that you dragging me into a closet because you’re mad I’m hot is kind of adorable.”
“I’m not mad you’re hot,” you snap. “I’m mad other people noticed.”
He laughs, low and fond. “That’s worse.”
“You’re mine,” you say, firm.
He doesn’t even hesitate. “Yeah.”
You blink. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he repeats easily. “Han Taesan. Boyfriend. Taken.”
You search his face for smugness—but all you find is sincerity, steady and warm.
“…Still annoying,” you mutter.
He grins. “Still jealous.”
A knock echoes faintly through the door.
“Taesan,” someone calls. “We need you.”
He sighs dramatically but doesn’t move, eyes still locked on yours, hands still warm on your waist.
“See?” he says softly. “World wants me.”
“And?”
“And I want you,” he finishes. “Even when you’re glaring at me.”
You roll your eyes—but you don’t pull away.
The knock comes again, louder this time.
“Taesan,” the voice says. “For real. Two minutes.”
He glances at the door, then back at you, entirely unbothered. “They’re impatient tonight.”
You snort. “Shock.”
“They miss me,” he adds smugly.
“Oh my god.”
He laughs, then stills when you step closer again. Really close this time. Close enough that you can see the faint crease between his brows that only shows when he’s paying attention.
“Don’t get cocky,” you say. “You were this close to being in serious trouble.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Was I?”
“Yes.”
“For… existing?”
“For letting strangers act like they had a claim on you.”
Something in his expression shifts—not defensive, not dismissive. Thoughtful. He tightens his hands on your waist, grounding you both again.
“They don’t,” he says. “You know they don’t.”
You nod once. “Still didn’t like it.”
“Okay,” he says gently. “That’s fair.”
You blink. “…That’s it?”
He smiles. “What, you wanted me to argue?”
“A little,” you admit. “So I could win.”
He laughs. “You’re already winning.”
You roll your eyes, then reach up, fingers brushing over his shoulder. You kiss the fabric of his jacket there—deliberate, unmistakable.
“That’s where someone grabbed you,” you mutter.
His breath catches. “You’re keeping track?”
“I have eyes.”
You kiss his arm next. Then his chest, right over his heart, like you’re drawing invisible lines only you’re allowed to cross.
“They don’t get to leave anything behind,” you say. “No memories. No claims. No—”
You look up at him.
“No this.”
He’s staring at you like you just rewired his brain.
“You’re ridiculous,” he murmurs, awed.
“You like it.”
“I love it,” he corrects. “You get all intense and bossy.”
“I am not bossy.”
“You dragged me into a closet.”
“Because you deserved it.”
He laughs softly, leaning his forehead against yours. “You know what I was thinking out there?”
You squint. “If this is about the crowd—”
“I was thinking,” he interrupts, “that I can’t wait to tell you about it after.”
You pause. “Why?”
“Because you always listen,” he says simply. “You don’t scream. You don’t grab. You just… see me.”
The jealousy loosens its grip, just a little.
Still—you tilt your head. “You still enjoyed it.”
He hums. “I enjoyed performing.”
“Liar.”
He grins. “Okay, fine. I enjoyed being wanted.”
You huff. “Unbelievable.”
“But,” he adds quickly, squeezing your waist, “being chosen is better.”
You look at him then—really look. No stage lights. No crowd. Just him, warm and familiar and entirely yours.
“You’re mine,” you say again, quieter but firmer.
His smile turns soft around the edges. Lovestruck. Gone.
“Yeah,” he says. “Hell yeah I am.”
You kiss his lips then—brief but certain. Not rushed. Not shy. Just enough to make your point.
When you pull back, he’s smiling like he just won something important.
“Han Taesan,” he says, mock-serious. “Property of one very jealous person.”
You scoff. “Watch it.”
He laughs, then nods toward the door. “Come stand side-stage with me.”
“So I can supervise?”
“So I can behave,” he says, eyes glinting. “Because I know you’re watching.”
You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he says, opening the door, “you’re coming with me.”
The noise floods back in as the door opens. The tour rolls on. The world waits.
But his hand stays firmly on your waist as you step out together.
And this time?
Everyone can tell who he belongs to.
creds: gradient lace by @cursed-carmine, red line by @bhavihelps, hearts by @uzmacchiato, please support by @dollywons ♡
tags: @tsanho ⸝⸝ @pupillary ⸝⸝ @taestulipss ⸝⸝ @leehanaholic ⸝⸝ @beomtomie ⸝⸝ @mwotgata ⸝⸝ @kaixlix ⸝⸝ @haede-shi ⸝⸝ @ivehan ⸝⸝ @angelwings-fly ⸝⸝ @kjunebuggie ⸝⸝ @niiqv ⸝⸝ @haeonniie ⸝⸝ @blossomnet @daydreamnet @k-records @fruiteronet [wanna be tagged in my next fic? comment on the reader registry!!]
˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡ back to masterlist
when words fail
taesan x fem!reader (self insert lowk)
summary: a new job at the convenience store introduces you to a love you never thought you would find :3
wc : 4.9k
friday nights are usually your designated nights. you enjoy spending time cuddled up in your bedroom, duvet draped over your body while you watch your favorite kpop band perform on your laptop screen.
despite being unable to see them live, the feeling is electric—unreal, even. but those nights of solace are no longer, and all because you decided to get a job. it isn’t easy finding a place suitable to your taste, but you manage to find one at the convenience store on the corner of your street, a place you frequent.
of course you don’t choose to get a job out of the blue, there’s an underlying reason. that being your desire to see your favorite band in concert. though watching through the screen is enjoyable, the feeling of seeing them live is unmatched.
listening to their heavenly vocals, seeing their elaborate and skilled dance moves along with their angelically crafted faces in person? you’d be a fool to turn down a chance at experiencing that.
that’s why you’re standing in the doorway of the convenience store, application in hand as the owner, an older man with graying hair, leads you inside the store. “come, come!” he ushers you in warmly, a gentle smile on his face.
“i’m sure you got the email about getting the job already.”
you nod, following closely behind as he leads you to the register. the register that changes the course of your experience at your new job, and all because of one boy.
he’s gorgeous. extremely tall and sharp featured with high cheekbones and the cutest pouty lips. his face holds no expression, but his eyes, his eyes speak to you more than you believe he ever could.
“ah, this is taesan!” your manager introduces excitedly, ushering the boy to come out from the counter. he complies, steadily making his way out until he’s in front of you.
“taesan, this is yn. she’s the new employee i was telling you about.”
you bow, to which he reciprocates, before offering your hand out for a handshake. he glances down, slightly surprised, before taking your hand in his own. his hand is soft, but you can feel the slight callouses—a testament of hard work.
“nice to meet you.” he says, voice silky smooth and full of honey. this job is only supposed to be a means of getting money, but your introduction to taesan makes you second guess your intentions.
would it be all that bad to find romance if you were still making money?
“i’m hoping you can start soon. i know it’s short notice, but can you come in tomorrow?”
“definitely,” you reassure him, offering a small smile. your manager thanks you, before leading you around the backroom where the employees stay. all the while, you find it hard to keep your eyes off of taesan.
he’s just so captivating.
you’re in for a lot of trouble.
–
the next day, you begrudgingly roll out of bed an hour earlier than usual. yes, having money is exciting, but your beauty sleep will always be more important. nonetheless, you make it to the store in just the knick of time, quickly greeting a bored looking taesan who lazily nods in acknowledgment.
“morning,” you mumble, bowing quickly, before disappearing into the back room. taesan’s eyes follow your figure, a slight quirk of the corner of his lips making an appearance at your disheveled semblance.
“rough morning?” he asks when you finally emerge from the room, hands hurriedly tying the straps of your apron behind your back. you nod, brushing your hair out of your face before joining him at the register.
he just chuckles, and holds his hand out. you tilt your head in confusion.
“huh?”
“phone.” he says simply, brows raising expectantly.
you pout, muttering under your breath as you dig in your pocket to hand him your phone. then he laughs, a genuine laugh, and it makes you look up at him, and the sight makes your breath hitch.
he’s even cuter when he smiles.
“i’m just messing with you. i’m supposed to be training you today though. are you ready?” he leans against the counter, eyes never leaving your face.
you nod, speechless, to which he claps his hands together.
“alright, first up i’ll teach you about the register.”
training goes relatively smoothly, as smooth as it can go, with a few blips here and there. he teaches you the ins and outs of using the register, including all of the shortcuts he’s managed to create since working there.
he also goes over how to take inventory (something so tedious it quickly becomes your least favorite task), and of course what he likes to call “standard” customer service skills. though to you, the skills are a lot more than just the bare minimum.
taesan is impossible to ignore. he’s extremely kind to the customers, speaking lightheartedly to them as if it’s second nature. it’s obvious to you that he’s grown a reputation around the store, judging by how receptive customers both young and old are to him.
it’s kind of endearing to watch.
“you’re good at that,” you comment once rush hour ends. he shrugs, picking a piece of lint from off of his apron. “it gets easier when you get used to it.” you nod, continuing to wipe down the counter.
the sun has already begun to set by now, the moon illuminating brightly, casting dark shadows along the sidewalk. you look through the window, huffing at the sight. today goes by quicker than you expect.
if every work day is like today, you wouldn’t mind having a job at all. especially with eye candy like taesan.
“ah, almost forgot,” he says suddenly, weaving past you and toward the shelves. you watch him, confused, when he motions for you to follow him. “forgot what?”
“another shortcut.” he says matter-of-factly, leading you to the 3 layered carts filled with crates of what you assume to be merchandise.
“i was going to teach you tomorrow, but doing it like this makes it so much easier.”
“doing what like what?” you ask, bewildered.
“stocking, duh?” he says as he crouches down to lift a box of merchandise from the cart. you nod in understanding, grabbing a box of your own. but what you don’t realize is that convenience store snacks can be so heavy, and you nearly topple over at the mere weight of the box.
“what’s in this, bricks?” he chuckles at your expense, plopping the box he holds down to assist you with yours. you thank him, heading over to the aisle that corresponds with the box.
“it’s pretty self-explanatory, just make sure you arrange them neatly or the owner gets mad. doing it the night before makes your job so much easier.” he explains, crossing his arms, his body leaning against the shelf.
“i’ll help you today, but most days we split up the work.”
you nod, shooting him a thumbs up, turning to get to work. stocking is pretty easy, and it quickly becomes your favorite task. taesan is right about everything being relatively simple— all you have to do is find the correct spot and organize it in a neat way, something you enjoy doing anyway.
in fact, you enjoy it so much you secretly wish you could rearrange all the shelves, but you don’t get paid enough for that. everything goes smoothly until it’s time for you to reach the dreaded top shelf.
you click your tongue, turning to see if there’s a stool nearby, but there isn’t. so being the ever independent girl you are, you figure out a way to reach the top shelf—for the most part.
brilliantly, tossing the bowls of ramen on the shelf seems to be working perfectly. they even manage to align themselves correctly, something you chalk up to divine intervention. but as you near the front of the row of ramen, it gets more difficult.
you huff, shifting on your tippy toes, hands stretching as far as they can to slide the final bowl of buldak on the shelf, but you’re just short of it.
then, warmth.
the feeling of something—someone—coming up behind you makes your body grow slack, your weight shifting back to your heels as taesan’s hand grabs the cup from your hand, effortlessly sliding it into place.
you feel your breath catch in your throat, cheeks warming at the feeling of his body so close to yours, but the feeling only lasts a second. he dusts his hands off, placing them on his hips with a sigh.
“next time, ask for help.” he says simply, as if he hasn’t almost just given you a heart attack. you feel like a freak for reading into it, but how could you not? your oddly attractive new coworker just comes up behind you and helps you reach the top shelf.
it’s like something straight out of a drama. “whatever.” you stumble over your words, hiding your face as you quickly walk over to the backroom. taesan watches you, a perplexed look on his face, before shrugging.
–
for the next few weeks, you consistently go to work, and things run smoothly. customers start to warm up to you, the tasks become muscle memory, and the job isn’t too tiring, so you still have enough time to have a social life outside of it.
needless to say, getting this job is a blessing.
as for taesan, he’s still his usual polite self, but he’s sort of closed off, you notice. at first it kind of bothers you, but you chalk it up to him being an introvert. plus, it’s better this way.
who knows how fast you would fold if a friendship bloomed between the two of you.
but after a while of smooth sailing, taesan starts growing increasingly agitated at the unspoken awkwardness that seems to loom between the two of you. yeah, you’re friendly—sometimes even having small conversations here and there—but there’s still this odd feeling of tension. heavy, yet unserious at the same time.
it’s driving him insane.
so he does what any other logical person would do: he decides to confront you about it.
the first time taesan tries to bring it up, it doesn’t go too well. in truth, it just makes things even more awkward than they were.
“yn?” he calls for you one day while you’re busy restocking the shelves.
you pause, dusting off your apron and walking toward him.
“yeah?”
“is everything… okay between us?” and the way he says it—hesitant and soft—makes it so hard for you not to believe there’s a double meaning behind his words. makes it hard to believe he doesn’t mean something else by it. but as delusional as you are about your favorite band, you know the difference between fantasy and reality.
and this is reality. taesan doesn’t mean anything by it. “of course, why?” you chuckle to ease the awkwardness. he just scratches the back of his head, nodding before motioning for you to go back to work.
after that, you make sure to keep extra distance from him. whenever he’s talking to a customer, you hide on the opposite side of the store so he can’t pull you into the conversation.
during breaks, you insist on eating after him just so you won’t be alone with him in the breakroom.
but taesan isn’t stupid. he notices, and it bothers him. but he doesn’t know if he’s reading too much into it. maybe you have a reason, or maybe it really is just all in his head.
he won’t know for sure unless he tests it—so he does.
“yn, i need your help with the register!”
you quickly jog up to him, slipping behind the counter to assist.
“what’s up?”
he hums, tapping a few random buttons, hoping you won’t notice his blatant acting. “i keep getting stuck on this screen when i try to exit.”
you look up at him, confused, tapping a few buttons before the register returns to its original screen. “how do you not know this? you’ve been working here longer than me,” you tease, turning to head back to your task.
“wait,” he suddenly says, reaching a hand out to stop you. you glance down at his hovering hand before he quickly retracts it, motioning for you to come back.
“there’s this thing too,” he says, inching closer to where you stand in front of the register. and you, being you, notice this, and begin to scoot further and further away from him.
“what thing?” you accidentally stutter, forehead creasing in embarrassment. you hadn’t meant to show your nervousness, it just happens.
“this.” he taps a random button on the screen, attempting to lean in closer to you again. this time, you take a full step back, nervously giggling at your sudden closeness.
this time, there’s no mistaking it. you deliberately take a step away from him when he moves close to you, and he wants to know why. so he moves again. then you move again—away from him.
the two of you play this little dance until he has you backed against the wall, your hands raised in surrender. it doesn’t help that he refuses to break eye contact the entire time.
“what are you doing?” you ask, your voice coming out as a squeak.
he doesn’t say anything. his eyes continue to bore into your face, engraving every feature of yours into his memory.
then, finally: “why do you act so awkward around me?”
you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding when he steps back, arms crossing. you shrug, trying to wave him off, trying to pretend han taesan didn’t just have you cornered against the wall.
that you hadn’t just seen his gorgeously carved face up close—too close.
“i don’t. it’s just my personality.”
but taesan doesn’t buy it. instead, he scoffs, muttering something under his breath, still refusing to let it go.
“well if we’re going to be coworkers we need to be comfortable with each other. let’s spend our lunch break together.” he insists, leaving no room for refusal.
you sputter, blinking in confusion while he nudges you from behind the counter. “now get back to stocking.”
—
when lunchtime rolls around, your nerves are on ten. taesan closes the store, flipping the open sign to closed, leaving you absolutely no options for escape.
you know it’s ridiculous to be this nervous about sharing lunch with him, but it’s impossible not to be—especially when he looks like that, when he looks at you like that. like you’re the only person in the world.
you touch your finger to your lips, tracing them—a nervous habit you’ve picked up. taesan finally enters the backroom, two bowls of steaming ramen in hand as he sets one down in front of you.
“alright, let’s get to know each other.”
you snort at the way he says it, like it’s a mission that has to be completed. that earns you a slight smile from him, and in that moment, you wish you were a comedian just so you could see that radiant smile every day.
“ask me any question, i don’t bite,” he adds, picking up his chopsticks. you nod in thought, swirling the noodles in your bowl before mustering up the courage to speak.
“when did you start working here?”
“i started a year or two ago, in my first year of university,” he answers, taking a big bite of his ramen. you take one of your own, humming in understanding.
“university? how old are you, and what are you studying?”
“i’m twenty, and i’m studying music production.” you don’t miss the way his eyes seem to twinkle at the topic of music—it’s kind of cute.
“enough about me. what about you?”
you cover your mouth as you chew, freezing at the sudden question.
“me? what do you want to know?”
“everything you asked me.”
you hum, setting your bowl down. “i’m eighteen, i’m in my first year of university, and i’m studying math.”
he gasps, making a dramatic face of disgust. “math? who does that to themselves?”
you smile, rolling your eyes. “intelligent people.”
the two of you keep eating and chatting, and the more time you spend with him, the more you realize how much you enjoy just being around him. maybe avoiding him hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
“oh, i’ve been meaning to ask,” he says suddenly, just as the conversation begins to wind down. “is there any particular reason you got a job?”
you pause, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. you’ve got two options: lie and say it’s for tuition, or be honest. judging by the way he’s looking at you, option one sounds appealing—but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to lie.
“don’t laugh at me…” you start, hanging your head in shame.
he laughs before you even get the words out. “i won’t, i won’t.”
you exhale, shutting your eyes. “i’m saving up to fund my obsession with this boy band,” you finally admit.
taesan puffs his cheeks, a terrible attempt at holding in his laugh, but it bursts out all at once. “you only got a job for kpop?” he sputters between laughs, hunched over in his chair.
“that’s some serious dedication,” he teases, once he’s caught his breath and sips his water.
“see, this is why i didn’t want to tell you,” you whine, fiddling with the cap of your water bottle. he shrugs, clearly not serious.
“i’m just teasing you. what group is it?”
“it’s this band called boynextdoor,” you say, already pulling out your phone to show him a song. he hums, feigning interest. if he’s being honest, the idea of a kpop group you’re obsessed with doesn’t exactly excite him, but if pretending to care makes you happy—he’ll do it in a heartbeat.
he hums along as you scroll through photos of them littered across your pinterest board, explaining the lore of the group. “they sound alright,” he comments, trying to sound casual.
“alright? they’re more than alright! let me show you their newest album!”
–
for the next few weeks, you and taesan grow closer—a lot closer than you intended or imagined. spending lunch breaks together becomes part of your daily routine, and if you’re honest, you look forward to them every single day.
taesan also gets much more comfortable around you, which means the teasing starts. relentless teasing. he constantly pokes fun at how your cheeks puff up when you eat, how your voice goes an octave higher when talking to older customers, or how you have this oddly specific system for organizing shelves.
of course, you cherish this new bond between the two of you. but the more time you spend together, the more your crush grows. at first, it was just physical attraction—but now, after actually getting to know him, it’s worse. or better. depending on how you look at it.
he’s sweet. he’s thoughtful. and he’s stupidly talented. falling for him was inevitable, and honestly, you can’t even blame yourself. but you’re not going to act on it. that would just make things weird, so instead—you set boundaries.
invisible boundaries that taesan seems determined to ignore.
he’s surprisingly touchy. always resting his hand on your shoulder, hovering near your waist when he brushes past, placing his palm lightly on your lower back if you’re in his way.
he also makes weird comments sometimes—calls you cute, slips in random compliments like it’s nothing. it’s confusing. he’s confusing. and impossible to gauge. still, you brush off the moments, chalking them up to his personality. until today.
today was supposed to be a normal day. rush hour ended early, which meant the store was quiet. quiet enough for you to pull out your phone and fangirl over your favorite group, who just so happened to be performing live tonight. the timing was awful—their set landed during the last hour of your shift—but with no customers, you had more than enough time to indulge.
taesan’s off sweeping the floor, music blaring through his earbuds, completely unaware as you prop your phone up against the register and clap your hands like a kid on christmas. the live starts, and you’re already grinning at the comment section flooding in.
“yn, i finished—” he pauses, catching the pure joy on your face. he’s never seen you look this animated before. it’s… kinda cute.
“what are you doing?” he asks, eyes flicking to your phone.
“my favorite group performs tonight!” you practically squeal, looking up at him with genuine excitement.
he hums, sets the broom aside, and walks over, arms crossed as he leans in slightly to see your screen.
“that’s what’s got you this worked up?” he teases. normally, your heart would flutter at how close he’s standing, but you’re too focused on the angels on your screen to care.
taesan glances sideways at you, a weird twinge of irritation rising in his chest. he doesn’t get what’s so great about these guys. hell, you haven’t even looked at him since they came on.
then, it happens.
you squeal—loudly—as one of the members lifts his shirt to flash his abs. taesan squints at the screen, scoffing.
“did you see that? he just showed us his abs! oh my gosh, they’re glorious! if i could see that in person…” you gush, completely in your own world, rambling about how unreal it’d be to see them live.
taesan rolls his eyes. “they’re not that cool. anybody can have abs.”
“tch, not just anybody. look at you, for example.” you shoot back without missing a beat, eyes still locked on the performance.
he frowns—actually frowns—at how easily you dismiss him. he knows you’re joking, but something about your total lack of attention gets under his skin.
“oh yeah? you want to bet?” he says suddenly, leaning in even closer.
you wave him off, still replaying your favorite part of the performance. “yeah right—”
“how am i supposed to show you if you won’t even look at me?”
you scoff, finally turning to give him a piece of your mind—but stop cold when you see what’s in front of you.
taesan’s hands are gripping the hem of his shirt, lifting it just enough to reveal a sliver of his abs.
“what are you doing?! stop!” you squeak, immediately turning away, flustered out of your mind.
he laughs—really laughs—smoothing down his shirt like he didn’t just flash you.
“i’m taking fifteen,” you mumble, cheeks burning as you practically sprint to the backroom. you fan your face, glaring at the sound of his laughter echoing from the front.
you cannot believe he just did that.
but taesan? oh, he’s smug. leaning against the counter with a smile tugging at his lips, proud of himself for successfully pulling your attention off your beloved boy band—and back onto him.
–
later that night, your face is buried in your pillow, a poor attempt at self-suffocation. no matter how hard you try to erase the image from your mind, that moment with taesan plays over and over like a broken record.
he makes it so hard not to like him.
you scream into your pillow, fists pounding the mattress, when a notification sounds from your phone. confused, you reach over, mouth falling open at taesan’s name flashing on your screen.
taesan: what’s so great about boynextdoor anyway? anyone could do what they do you: are you seriously still on that? taesan: yes, you were going crazy over them you: yeah, bc they’re amazing. they can sing, dance, rap plus their beauty is hard to find taesan: not really you: yes really taesan: who’s cuter me or them? you: stop asking weird questions
(read 11:09 pm)
you sigh, dropping your phone back onto your pillow. the more you think about it, the more delusional you feel about the chance taesan might actually like you back.
come to think of it, he’s been acting weirder than usual lately—complimenting you more, always finding reasons to be close, even now asking questions about what you think of him.
of course you think taesan is cuter, but you’d never tell him that. that would just make everything awkward.
then, another notification.
this time, it’s a voice message from him. your breath catches as your finger hovers over the play button.
you press play—and immediately regret it.
it’s taesan singing, his voice steady and smooth, filled with emotion. of course, he chose a song from your favorite group.
and just as the message ends, you hear his voice—low, sleepy—
“goodnight yn.”
–
work is unbearable. things between you two are awkward, and it’s mostly your fault. you absolutely refuse to make eye contact with him, and when you can, you avoid him. taesan looks slightly confused by the sudden change in your attitude.
the two of you had made so much progress — only for it to unravel in exactly one day. he isn’t going to let that slide.
“yn,” he hums, as you pretend to be busy wiping down the counter.
“yn,” he says again, more urgently this time. you exhale and finally tear your eyes away from the counter to look at him.
“yes, taesan?”
“why are you being weird again?”
you wish you could slap him for asking such a stupid question, but you’ve learned by now that taesan is just naturally oblivious. any girl in your position would avoid him after the stunt he pulled yesterday.
it’s hard to believe he’s even asking.
taesan tilts his head, genuine confusion written across his face as he waits for an answer.
“are you serious?” you scoff lightly, turning back to resume wiping.
taesan huffs, annoyed, and inches closer. you freeze, hand still pressed against the damp cloth.
“is it because of yesterday?” his voice is teasing as he leans in again, and in that moment you briefly consider whether physical violence would be so bad. you step back, holding your hand out to create distance between you.
“you’re being weird…” you mutter, eyes darting everywhere but his.
taesan’s brows knit in frustration. he’s starting to feel bad — you look so uncomfortable, and that wasn’t his intention at all. he thought the feeling was mutual.
“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable,” he says quietly, kicking at dust on the floor. you blink, looking up at him in surprise.
“no, no, i’m not uncomfortable, it’s just…” you trail off, searching for the words.
taesan gives you a moment, then grows impatient. he tilts his head again, leaning closer so you can see his face. your breath catches as you fight the urge to meet his eyes, but it’s no use.
“just…?” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.
that’s your breaking point.
taesan keeps doing things — the skinship, the voice messages, the random compliments. it’s driving you insane. not the actions themselves, but the fact that he does it so mindlessly.
taesan doesn’t actually like you. he’s just being himself, and that’s what bothers you. you thought it’d be okay at first — accepting his teasing — but it’s become unbearable. your feelings for him are unbearable.
you have to put an end to it.
but before you can speak, your tears say it for you. they pool in your eyes, and you blink furiously, trying to hold them back.
“oh, wait, yn, are you okay?” he suddenly steps back, concern written all over his face. you shake your head, sniffling as you wipe the tears from your cheeks.
“i’m fine, i just… just stop teasing me before i think you’re serious.” your voice cracks, your bottom lip trembling as you finally say the words you’ve been avoiding.
taesan’s eyes widen in shock as he watches you cry, unsure what to do. he isn’t good at moments like this — and making you cry was never his intention. what did you mean, you thought he wasn’t serious? he was serious.
“wait, i’m sorry if i’ve been confusing you but i am serious,” he stumbles over his words, eyes closing in frustration as he tries to find the right way to say it. but you don’t hear any of it — your shoulders only shake harder, tears spilling over.
you don’t even know why you’re crying. you’re not usually emotional, but now the waterworks won’t stop no matter what he says.
“it’s fine. i think i just need a minute.”
you sniffle again, turning toward the breakroom. but just then, taesan moves — finally finding the courage to act. to prove he’s serious about you, that he always has been.
his arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you into his chest. your eyes widen as your arms instinctively circle his wrists. he rests his neck in the crook of yours, breath warm and tickling your collarbone.
“i am serious about you, yn. i just tease you because i like you so much.” his voice is low and gentle, the scent of his cologne warm and comforting as he hugs you tighter.
then he pulls back, turning you gently to face him. his hands stay on your shoulders as he says:
“i like you, yn.”
his hands find their way to your cheeks, cupping them as he pulls you in for a brief peck on the corner of your lips. somehow, that small gesture was more intimate — more romantic — than a kiss on the lips could have ever been.
your tears fall again as you bury your face in his shirt, fist limply punching his shoulder.
“i like you too, stupid,” you say between sniffles.
taesan smiles, rubbing soothing circles on your back.
“i know you do.”
you punch him again, earning a small laugh.
“don’t be so confusing next time.”
taesan just smiles, pressing his lips against the crown of your head.
“i promise.”
-
m.list
︵⠀IN THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT ⠀◌Ⳋ ✧ ── when the anger speaks louder and you forget that words can cut like a knife, you need to reassure the broken person that your heart is still full of them and to promise to be better.
pairing: sungho x gn!reader wc: 1.1k words warnings: mentions of alcohol
ᯓ★ “and i said i wouldn’t call, but i’m a little drunk and i need you now”
Letting out your anger and saying things you don’t really mean to in the middle of a fight is not right, but it’s also not a sin. Sometimes you don’t even notice that the words came out until you see the person’s reaction.
That’s why you and Sungho were always careful about the choice of words when you were fighting, but this time the argument was too intense, too hurtful. Things came out of your lips that you wish they didn’t, the three cursed words included. I hate you.
God, you would do anything to get back in time and never say the things that you said to Sungho. You wanted him to feel hurt as much as you were feeling, but at what cost? The look on his face as he heard you was slowly turning into an extremely hurt expression. It felt like you were watching you break his heart in a matter of seconds.
He didn’t even fight back, he just turned around and left without any excuses or explanations. You couldn’t say he was wrong for doing that, you would’ve probably done the same thing as him.
When the anger subsided, you found yourself at a bar, drinking to forget your mistakes and sorrows. You knew that you should go after Sungho and apologize, tell him how much you love him and promise that you’ll do your best to never repeat that same mistake again. But you didn’t have the courage to do so.
After a couple bottles of soju, the alcohol had intoxicated you already as you found yourself all alone and remembering all the sweet moments you had with him. How you first met him, all those serenades, the nights full of laughter or full of passion, the times when he kissed and praised your insecurities and showed you how much he loves you and finds you perfect, all the promises of a beautiful and nurturing future together.
Tears started to fall from your eyes abruptly as you mumbled his name and felt your heart ache. You needed to apologize to him, to show him that you could never hate him, that your heart was so full of him that it couldn't even be called yours anymore.
Your fingers tapped the phone’s screen as you dialed his number like the act of calling his number became such an habit that it’s now a part of your autopilot mode. Once he picked up, your phone was already glued to your ear.
“Sungho? Love…?” The pet name came out hesitantly, as if you were scared of saying it.
There was a brief silence before you finally heard the voice that you were dying to hear the entire night. “I’m here.” You let out a shaky sigh when he spoke up, sobering up when you took note of his tired and teary tone.
“I… I need you, Sungho,” you inhaled, trying to take a deep breath, even with your nostrils clogged from crying so much. “I need you here with me. I think I drank a little too much and I really wish you were here… I’m sorry for what I said earlier, I didn’t mean any of that,” you let out a sob and looked around the bar, trying to find him even though you knew he wasn’t there. “You know I love you more than anything in this world.”
“Are you at the bar near your place?”
“Yes…”
“Don’t move, I’m on my way.”
After a few minutes of staring at the bar’s door that seemed like hours, you saw the door opening for the 10th time, but this time it was Sungho who was entering the bar. He looked around and when his eyes landed on your face, you could see his expression softening.
“Sungho…” You mumbled and smiled when you saw him walking towards you. His hand found your cheek as he lifted your face and studied it, making sure that you weren’t too drunk. You looked up at him and leaned into his touch. “You came.”
He sighed and took a seat next to you before asking for the bartender a cup of water. “You called.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No, I’m not mad at you.” He kept his eye on the bartender, watching him fill up a glass of water and place it on the counter right in front of you.
You frowned. “You should be, I hurt you, I said things I shouldn’t have.”
“I’m not mad,” he looked at you. “I’m upset, Y/N. It’s not easy to hear your partner that you love so much telling you that they hate you and a lot more shit.”
“I know,” you bit your lower lip in order to not cry. “And I know that what I did was wrong, but I didn’t mean any of that. I was hurt and wanted to hurt you as well. I’m so sorry, Sungho.” You took his hand and held it like you were holding the most precious diamond in your hands. “You are my everything and I shouldn’t have said all those things. In the heat of the moment I broke your heart — something I promised myself I would never do. I can’t take what I said back, but I can prove to you that I don’t think any of that and that that shit will never happen again. Please, can you forgive me?”
Sungho took a deep breath and wiped away your tears with a gentle touch, his thumb caressing the skin under your eyes. His lips turned into a little smile that warmed up your heart. “Ah, Y/N…” He pressed his lips against your forehead for a moment and leaned back looking into your eyes. “What should I do to you, hm?”
Sungho chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You smiled at him, your body felt light and you felt funny, and you didn’t know if it was because of your boyfriend or because of the alcohol.
“We make mistakes, it’s what makes us humans. But don’t do that to me again, my heart won’t take it. I thought I would die when you told me those things.”
You nodded repeatedly. “I promise you I will never do that again. I love you way too much and it hurts me to know that I upset you.”
Sungho pressed his lips against your forehead once again before letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”
“No. Maybe,” you giggled. “Just a little bit.”
“Gonna let you rest for a moment before I take you home, okay? Gonna take care of the love of my life. But once you’re sober, you give me the best princess treatment ever because I deserve it.”
You chuckled and gave him a quick peck on his neck. “Got it, Sungho, my special princess.”
“I love you, Y/N.”
“I love you too, Sungho, more than you can imagine.
A Fool In Love
BND Park Sungho x female! reader
Summary: Being in love with your best friend isn’t easy, especially when they keep dating other people who aren’t right for them, so what do you do? You try your best to show them that they, well, belong with you.
Warnings: Jealousy, a lot of crying over stupid people, a guy who can’t take a simple no, lots of joking, drinking (all of them are of age), (Y/n) getting a bit drunk,
Wordcount ≈ 21.7k (I got very carried away but I hope you guys will enjoy it either way) Not proofread
Loosely based on pretty much all of BND’s title tracks
All the bnd members are the same age in this story,
Please reblog! And enjoy!
Third Person POV
Park Sungho met (Y/n) when he was seven years old, on a summer afternoon that smelled of fresh grass and melted ice cream. The sun was high in the sky, casting warm golden hues over the playground where he and his friends were playing soccer. He had just scored a goal when a small voice cut through the cheers of his teammates.
“Hey! That’s not fair! You guys took over the whole field!”
Sungho turned around, wiping the sweat from his forehead. A little girl, around his age, stood with her arms crossed, her expression one of determination. She had a plastic jump rope clutched in one hand and a few colorful chalk pieces in the other.
“We were here first,” she added, chin tilted up defiantly.
Sungho blinked, surprised by her boldness. Most kids would have just found another spot to play, but she stood her ground, staring him down as if daring him to argue.
Jaehyun, one of Sungho’s teammates, scoffed. “What are you gonna do about it?”
(Y/n) narrowed her eyes, then suddenly threw a piece of chalk at him. It hit Jaehyun square in the forehead, leaving a pale blue smudge on his skin.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, to Sungho’s surprise, he started laughing.
“That was awesome,” he said, looking at her with newfound admiration.
She seemed caught off guard by his reaction, but then she grinned. “Well, you guys should share the field.”
Sungho glanced at his friends, then shrugged. “Alright, let’s make a deal. Half the field for soccer, half for whatever you were gonna do.”
She considered for a moment before nodding. “Deal.”
And that was the start of everything.
~~~
From that day on, Sungho and (Y/n) became inseparable.
They lived in the same neighborhood, their houses just a few streets apart, and they went to the same elementary school. They would race their bikes to class every morning, competing to see who could get there first—(Y/n) won most of the time, much to Sungho’s frustration.
After school, they would meet at the playground, sometimes playing with Jaehyun and the other boys, other times just the two of them, building castles in the sandpit or making up silly stories.
“Someday, I’m gonna be a famous soccer player,” Sungho declared one afternoon as they lay on the grass, staring up at the clouds.
(Y/n) turned her head toward him. “Yeah? And what if you don’t make it?” “I will make it,” he insisted. She giggled. “Fine, but if you don’t, you can always be a comedian. You’re kinda funny.” Sungho rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “What about you? What do you wanna be?”
She hummed, thinking. “I don’t know. Maybe a writer? Or a vet? Something fun.” “You should be a writer,” he said. “You tell good stories.” (Y/n) beamed. “Really?” “Yeah. Your story about the flying cat was kinda cool.” She laughed. “That was just a dream I had!” “Well, it was still cool.” She nudged him with her elbow. “Thanks, Sungho.”
It was little moments like that—laughing over silly things, sharing their dreams, just being together—that made their friendship feel so natural.
~~~
By the time they reached middle school, their friendship had deepened. They still did everything together—studying, eating lunch, walking home after school—but now, people had started to notice.
“Are you two dating?” one of their classmates asked one day, smirking. Sungho almost choked on his milk carton. “What? No! We’re just friends.” (Y/n) made a face. “Ew, Sungho’s like a brother to me.” Sungho didn’t know why, but hearing that made him feel… weird. He ignored the feeling and shoved it aside. “You guys act like a married couple,” another friend teased. (Y/n) rolled her eyes. “Just because we’re best friends doesn’t mean we like each other.” Sungho nodded quickly, but for some reason, the words stung a little.
Still, they carried on like usual, ignoring the teasing. They had each other’s backs no matter what. When Sungho got in trouble for accidentally breaking a classroom window during soccer practice, (Y/n) was the one who helped him apologize to the teacher. When (Y/n) got stage fright before her first class presentation, Sungho stood at the back of the room and gave her a thumbs-up, making silly faces until she smiled.
They were best friends. And that was all that mattered. Or at least, that’s what Sungho kept telling himself.
~~~
By the time they reached high school, things had started to shift.
(Y/n) had grown into one of the most popular girls in school—not just because of her looks, but because of her personality. She was funny, smart, and kind to everyone. Meanwhile, Sungho, Jaehyun, Riwoo, Taesan, Leehan, and Woonhak had solidified their reputation as one of the best soccer teams in the school’s history.
Girls started paying more attention to Sungho too, but he barely noticed. His focus remained on soccer and, of course, on (Y/n). But she had started to change, even if she didn’t realize it. She started talking more about boys—other boys.
“I think Jisung from Class 2 is kinda cute,” she mentioned one day as they walked home. Sungho scoffed. “Jisung? The guy who got suspended for cheating on his math test?” (Y/n) shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but he’s got a nice smile.” Sungho rolled his eyes. “You have terrible taste.” She laughed. “Oh, shut up.”
Little things like that started happening more often. She would talk about who she thought was attractive, who asked her out, who she had a tiny crush on. And Sungho would listen, nodding along, acting like it didn’t bother him. But it did. Because somewhere along the way, the weird feeling from middle school had come back—stronger this time. And for the first time, Sungho realized something that scared him. He didn’t just care about (Y/n) as a friend. He liked her. Maybe even more than that. And she had no idea.
~~~
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the soccer field as Park Sungho dribbled the ball down the pitch. His usual sharp movements were sluggish, his passes slightly off-target, and he wasn’t running at full speed. It was unlike him.
Jaehyun, the team captain, narrowed his eyes as Sungho missed an easy shot—one he would usually score without a second thought. He let it slide at first, but when Sungho spaced out again, letting the ball get stolen right from under his feet, Jaehyun had seen enough.
“Alright, that’s it! Break time!” Jaehyun clapped his hands together, signaling for the team to gather. “Dude, we’ve only been practicing for twenty minutes,” Riwoo pointed out. Jaehyun ignored him and pointed straight at Sungho. “Yeah, well, somebody looks like he left his brain at home.” Sungho, who had been standing off to the side staring at absolutely nothing, blinked in confusion. “Huh?” Jaehyun gestured for everyone to sit. “Circle up, gentlemen. We need a team intervention.”
The boys flopped onto the grass, some stretching their legs, others lying down dramatically like they were dying. Sungho sat in the middle, still confused. “What is this?” Sungho asked, raising an eyebrow. “This,” Jaehyun said, clapping a hand on his shoulder, “is us figuring out what the hell is wrong with you. Because right now, you suck.” “Like, seriously, dude,” Taesan chimed in, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen you play this bad. Did you hit your head?” “Did you fail a test?” Woonhak added. "Did your dog run away?” Leehan asked. “I don’t have a dog.” “That’s the problem,” Leehan said solemnly.
Jaehyun rolled his eyes. “Alright, shut up. Sungho, talk. What’s going on?” Sungho exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. He hesitated, but then—why bother hiding it? They’d just keep pestering him until he spilled anyway. “…I think I’m in love with (Y/n).”
Silence.
Then, all at once—
“You think?!”
Sungho groaned as his teammates erupted into laughter. Jaehyun actually clutched his stomach, Taesan wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, and Woonhak dramatically fell back onto the grass. “Oh my God. He just figured it out,” Riwoo gasped between laughs. “I can’t—this is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.” “Wait, wait,” Leehan sat up, grinning. “Sungho, are you telling us that you just now realized you’re in love with (Y/n)? Like, just now?” Sungho scowled. “Okay, first of all, I didn’t say ‘just now’—”
“You might as well have,” Taesan interrupted, smirking.
Sungho sighed, rubbing his temples. “I don’t know, okay? It just hit me recently. Like, every time she talks about other guys, I get this weird, awful feeling. It’s like… like someone’s squeezing my chest, and I just hate hearing about it.” Jaehyun hummed. “Sounds a lot like jealousy.” “Yeah, thanks, genius.” “And let me guess,” Woonhak grinned. “You wanna punch every guy she dates?” “…Maybe.”
Riwoo smirked. “You’re so in love.”
Sungho groaned, flopping onto his back. “This is a disaster.” Jaehyun nudged his leg. “Why? You’ve liked her for years. You just didn’t realize it. Now you know. So… do something about it.” Sungho scoffed. “Oh yeah, great idea. Let me just walk up to her and say, ‘Hey, (Y/n), you know all those guys you like? Yeah, well, I hate them because I’ve actually been in love with you this whole time. Wanna date me instead?’”
Taesan nodded. “Yeah, sounds solid.” Woonhak gave a thumbs-up. “Go for it.” Sungho glared. “Shut up.” Jaehyun chuckled. “Alright, alright. But seriously, you gotta do something. You can’t just sit around waiting forever.” “Yeah,” Riwoo agreed. “She’s gonna keep dating other guys. Can you handle watching that?”
Sungho hesitated. He already knew the answer. No. Not anymore.
Jaehyun patted his shoulder. “Then it’s time to step up, man.” Sungho exhaled. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was time. But the thought of confessing? That was terrifying.
~~~
Meanwhile with (Y/n):
The café was alive with soft chatter, the hum of coffee machines, and the occasional clinking of spoons against ceramic cups. (Y/n), Yujin, and Lily sat in their usual booth by the window, drinks half-finished, as they leaned in conspiratorially.
“So, let me get this straight,” Yujin said, twirling her straw in her iced Americano. “You got another confession note?” (Y/n) sighed, holding up a neatly folded piece of paper. “Yep. This time, it was in literature class. The guy just casually slipped it onto my desk when the teacher wasn’t looking.” Lily’s eyes widened in excitement. “Did he sign his name?” (Y/n) unfolded the note and skimmed through it. “Nope. Just the usual—‘I think you’re really pretty, I’d love to take you out sometime’ kind of thing.”
“Ugh, boring,” Yujin groaned. “Come on, where’s the effort? If you’re gonna confess, at least go big. Flowers? A poem? A serenade?” (Y/n) laughed. “A serenade? In the middle of class?” “I’d respect the boldness,” Lily said, grinning. “Are you gonna say yes?” (Y/n) made a face. “I don’t know. I don’t even know who he is! What if he’s, like, some creepy guy who watches me from across the hallway?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Yujin muttered. (Y/n) groaned. “Don’t remind me.” Lily leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. “Still, you date a lot, but none of them ever seem to work out. Maybe this mystery guy could be different?” (Y/n) shrugged. “Maybe. But I don’t wanna get my hopes up. You guys remember last semester, right? The guy who called me his ‘future wife’ after one date?”
Lily shuddered. “Yeah, that was a disaster.” “And don’t forget the one before that,” Yujin added. “What was his name? Junho? The one who texted, like, fifty times a day and got mad if you didn’t respond in five minutes?” (Y/n) sighed. “Yep. That was fun.” Lily gave her a sympathetic smile. “You really don’t have the best luck, huh?”
“I really don’t.” (Y/n) took a sip of her caramel macchiato. “Maybe I should just give up on dating for a while.” “Pfft.” Yujin waved a hand. “Yeah, right. You love being in love. You’ll be crushing on someone new by next week.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes. “I hate that you’re not wrong.” Lily giggled, checking the time on her phone. “Speaking of which, isn’t Sungho’s practice ending soon?” (Y/n) glanced at her own phone and immediately started gathering her things. “Yeah, I should go.”
Yujin smirked. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to keep your beloved best friend waiting.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “You guys are ridiculous.” “Tell Sungho we said hi,” Lily called out teasingly as (Y/n) walked away. She just shook her head with a laugh, heading toward the soccer field like she always did—completely unaware of the conversation that had just taken place there minutes ago.
~~~
The soccer field was still buzzing with energy, even though practice had officially ended. The players were scattered around, cooling down or chatting amongst themselves—except for two.
Sungho was sprinting across the field, his expression twisted in frustration, while Woonhak ran ahead of him, laughing maniacally with Sungho’s phone in his hand.
“Woonhak, you little gremlin! Give it back!” Sungho shouted, lunging forward. “Not until you admit what you were looking at before practice!” Woonhak teased, easily dodging Sungho’s reach. Jaehyun, Riwoo, Taesan, and Leehan sat nearby, watching the chaos unfold with amused expressions. “What do you think it was?” Taesan mused. “My guess? Something romantic,” Leehan said, smirking. “Maybe he was reading love poems,” Riwoo added, nudging Jaehyun. “Or maybe,” Jaehyun drawled, stretching his legs out, “he was looking at ways to finally confess to (Y/n).” Sungho groaned. “You guys are not helping.”
Just then, a familiar laugh rang through the air, and Sungho’s stomach did a tiny flip. (Y/n) stood by the entrance of the field, watching the scene unfold with amusement. She always found Woonhak’s boundless energy endearing. He reminded her of an overenthusiastic puppy—always eager, always playful, and always listening to her as if every word she said was a direct order from his master.
“Woonhak,” she called out, smiling. Immediately, the younger boy skidded to a stop and turned to face her, his face lighting up. “(Y/n)-noona!” “Give Sungho his phone back.” Without hesitation, Woonhak jogged over to her and placed the phone in her hands like an obedient pup. “Here you go!” She patted his head. “Good boy.”
Woonhak grinned. “See, this is why you’re my favorite.” Sungho finally reached them, slightly out of breath, and shot Woonhak a glare. “I hate you.” Woonhak only smirked. “Love you too, hyung.” (Y/n) chuckled as she handed the phone back to Sungho. “Here. You need to learn how to keep your stuff safe from mischievous puppies.” Sungho took the phone, his fingers brushing against hers briefly. He swallowed. “Thanks.”
(Y/n) smiled, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go.” Sungho nodded, falling into step beside her as they left the field together. The two walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes before (Y/n) broke it.
“Today was interesting,” she mused. Sungho glanced at her. “Oh?” She held up the folded note from earlier and waved it slightly. “Got another confession letter.” Sungho’s stomach twisted. Not again.
“Another one?” he asked, forcing his voice to sound lighthearted. “At this rate, you’re gonna need a whole separate backpack just to carry all of them.” (Y/n) laughed. “Right? It’s kinda sweet, though.” Sungho didn’t reply. Sweet wasn’t exactly the word he would’ve used.
“I still don’t know who wrote it,” she continued. “But honestly, I’ve already been thinking about someone else.” Sungho’s breath hitched. Was she finally noticing him? “Who?” he asked, keeping his tone casual. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “There’s this senior. He’s really attractive.”
His heart sank.
“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Uh… what’s so great about him?” (Y/n) hummed in thought. “I don’t know. He just has this cool, confident vibe. Plus, he has really broad shoulders. I don’t know why, but I find that so attractive.” Sungho felt like someone had just punched him in the gut.
Broad shoulders. Of course. “Sounds… nice,” he managed to say. She sighed. “Anyway, it’s probably nothing. I doubt he even knows I exist.” Sungho wanted to scream, I exist. I’ve always existed for you. But instead, he just nodded. “Yeah. Maybe.”
They reached her house, and she turned to him with a soft smile. “See you tomorrow?” Sungho forced a smile. “Yeah. See you.” She disappeared inside, and he stood there for a moment, staring at her door. Then, he turned and walked home, his mind racing with a single thought.
~~~
Sungho stood in front of his full-length mirror, his jaw clenched. His shoulders weren’t small. Compared to his friends, he had the broadest build out of all of them. But compared to an actual gym-goer? A senior? Not enough. Not enough for her to look at him the way she looked at every other guy. He rolled his shoulders, examining himself from different angles. Would (Y/n) notice if he worked out more? If he got stronger, broader? Would she finally see him?
A determined expression settled on his face. He opened his phone and started searching. “Best workouts to get broader shoulders.” Tomorrow, he’d start. And maybe—just maybe—(Y/n) would finally see him as more than just her best friend.
~~~
Sungho had been working out since the middle of their second semester in high school. At first, it was just frustration-fueled effort—desperate attempts at sculpting himself into something (Y/n) would notice. But reality didn’t work like that. Muscles didn’t form overnight, and broad shoulders didn’t just appear after a few weeks of lifting. It wasn’t until the last semester of their final year that his hard work started showing.
He still remembered the day (Y/n) had casually mentioned it. “Damn, Sungho, you’re getting buff. It suits you.” He had felt his heart do somersaults, but her words didn’t carry the weight he wished they did. She said it the same way she’d compliment a new haircut or a stylish jacket. Nothing more, nothing less. It stung. But he didn’t stop.
Partly because he still wanted her to notice him, but also because working out made him a better athlete. It made him faster, stronger, more efficient on the field. His hard work had landed him a solid reputation in their school’s soccer team, and now, with just one week left until his final high school match, he knew scouts would be watching.
This match could mean the difference between playing soccer in college or leaving the sport behind for good. But when his phone buzzed during practice, everything else became irrelevant.
Sungho stood on the soccer field, wiping sweat from his forehead as Coach blew the whistle for a water break. He pulled out his phone, expecting a text from his mom or maybe one of the guys messing around in the team’s group chat.
But his heart stopped when he saw (Y/n)’s name.
(Y/n): Are you busy?
That alone made his stomach twist.
She never asked if he was busy. She usually just sent something random, assuming he’d respond whenever he could.
Sungho: At practice. Why?
The reply came almost instantly.
(Y/n): I got dumped.
Sungho froze.
His fingers clenched around his phone, his jaw tightening as a wave of emotions hit him all at once.
Anger. Frustration. A helpless kind of sadness.
It had happened again.
(Y/n): He was cheating on me. And using me for my notes.
Sungho exhaled sharply through his nose.
He should’ve known. He did know. The guy was too smooth, too charming in a way that felt practiced. Sungho had seen the warning signs, but what could he have done? (Y/n) never listened when he tried to subtly warn her about her choices in guys.
And now here they were. Again.
“Sungho!” Jaehyun’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Water break’s over, let’s go!”
His grip on his phone tightened.
This was an important practice. His last few before the big game. His future in soccer depended on how well he performed next week.
But the choice wasn’t hard.
Sungho: Where are you?
(Y/n): My house.
Sungho: I’m coming.
Without hesitation, Sungho shoved his phone in his pocket, grabbed his bag, and jogged toward the edge of the field.
“Where are you going?” Jaehyun called out. “Something came up,” Sungho muttered. Coach raised an eyebrow as Sungho passed him. “You’re skipping practice a week before the biggest match of your life?” Sungho didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” Coach sighed but didn’t stop him. Jaehyun, however, jogged up beside him, lowering his voice. “Is it (Y/n)?” Sungho didn’t answer. Jaehyun sighed, shaking his head. “Dude, you can’t keep doing this.” Sungho turned to face him. “She needs me.” Jaehyun held his gaze for a long moment before exhaling in defeat. “Fine. Go.”
Sungho didn’t waste another second. He ran.
(Y/n) sat on her bed, her arms wrapped around her knees. The room was dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the soft glow of her bedside lamp. A half-eaten pint of ice cream sat on her nightstand, untouched.
She wasn’t crying. She was too tired to cry. Instead, she just felt stupid. How many times was she going to let this happen? How many times was she going to ignore the red flags, only to end up here—alone, humiliated, and feeling like an idiot? A knock on her window made her jump. She turned her head, only to see Sungho standing outside, his usual hoodie pulled over his head, his expression unreadable.
With a small sigh, she got up and slid the window open. “You know, you could just use the front door.” Sungho shrugged. “This is faster.” (Y/n) stepped aside, letting him climb in. He landed on her floor with practiced ease, like he had done it a thousand times before.
“Did you really skip practice?” she asked as he straightened up. “Doesn’t matter,” he said simply, sitting down on the edge of her bed. “Tell me what happened.” She hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside him. “It’s the same old story.” Sungho didn’t say anything. He just listened. So she told him.
How the guy had been acting distant lately. How she found out through a mutual friend that he was seeing someone else. How, when she confronted him, he hadn’t even tried to deny it—just shrugged and said, “What did you expect?”
Sungho clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. “Do you want me to kill him?” he asked, only half-joking. (Y/n) let out a dry laugh. “No fighting, remember?” Sungho exhaled slowly, unclenching his fists. “Right.” They sat in silence for a moment before (Y/n) rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m so tired, Sungho,” she whispered. “Why do I keep doing this to myself?”
Sungho swallowed hard, his heart pounding at the warmth of her touch. Because you don’t see me, he wanted to say. But instead, he just rested his head against hers. “Because you’re too kind. You believe in people, even when they don’t deserve it.” She sighed. “Maybe I should stop.” Sungho forced a small smile. “You won’t. It’s who you are.”
They sat like that for a long time—her leaning on him, him holding himself together. And in that moment, Sungho realized something. It didn’t matter if he got broad shoulders. It didn’t matter how strong he got, how much he changed, how much he sacrificed. Because at the end of the day, he would always be the one picking up the pieces. And she would never notice.
After nearly an hour of sitting in silence, (Y/n) had stopped crying. Her body had long since relaxed against Sungho’s side, her breathing even, her weight light but comforting against him. The half-eaten ice cream had melted into a sticky mess on her nightstand, completely forgotten. The only sounds were the occasional sniffle and the faint ticking of the clock on her wall. Sungho hadn’t moved. He didn’t want to.
He wasn’t sure if she had fallen asleep, but she had gone still, and for a moment, he allowed himself to pretend that this was something more. That maybe she wasn’t leaning on him just because she was hurting, but because she wanted to. He let his eyes drift shut, pretending, just for a little while, that he was allowed to have this. Then he felt it.
A small hand slipping into his. His entire body tensed. (Y/n) had taken his hand in hers, her fingers lightly tracing over the rough callouses he had developed from years of soccer. It was a simple touch, so casual that it probably meant nothing to her. But to him? It was everything.
His heart skipped—no, tripped—over itself, his stomach twisting as if he had just been launched into free fall. He held his breath, afraid that if he moved, she would realize what she was doing and pull away. Then, in the quietest whisper, she murmured, “Thanks, Sungho.” His throat tightened.
He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to thank him. That he would always, always come running whenever she needed him. That it didn’t matter if it was the middle of the night, or if he was in the middle of the most important soccer match of his life—if she called, he would answer. But before he could even process what she had said, she spoke again, this time a little louder. “You idiot,” she muttered, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. “You skipped practice for me.”
Sungho barely resisted the urge to smile. So she did know. She must’ve thought he was asleep, because her tone wasn’t her usual teasing one. It was softer, a little more raw. “You should be more serious about your future,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if you lost your chance to impress the scouts?” Sungho, who had been forcing himself to keep still, finally broke. He let out a quiet laugh, his chest vibrating against her side.
(Y/n) gasped and sat up straight. “You were awake?” He grinned, tilting his head to look at her. “The whole time.” Her face twisted in embarrassment as she smacked his arm. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “I was comfortable,” he said with a shrug, stretching his arms above his head. “And I wanted to hear what you’d say about me when you thought I wasn’t listening.”
(Y/n) groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “I take back my thanks.” “No, you don’t.” She peeked at him through her fingers. “Ugh, you’re so annoying.” Sungho just smiled. For a moment, she stared at him, and he could see that she was feeling a little lighter now. There was a small, tired smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and it made all of this worth it.
Then she sighed, rolling her shoulders. “Still. You should’ve gone to practice.” He shrugged. “You were more important.” She blinked, then smacked his arm again. “That’s not how this works! What if your coach benches you for skipping?” “Then I’ll make up for it at the game.” She sighed again, shaking her head at him. But this time, she smiled. “I’ll be there, you know.” Sungho raised an eyebrow. “At my game?” She nodded. “Yep. Front row, wearing your number, screaming my lungs out.”
His heart did a double take. “What?” he asked, sure he had misheard. (Y/n) stretched her arms above her head, yawning a little. “I said I’ll wear your jersey. Since you don’t have a girlfriend to do it, I guess I’ll have to suffice.” Sungho forgot how to breathe.
His jersey. She was going to wear his jersey. For the first time in years, she was going to have his name and number on her back—not some random senior’s, not some guy she was dating—his. He swallowed. “You— you don’t have to do that.”
(Y/n) shrugged. “Nah, I want to. Gotta make up for making you skip practice.” Sungho wanted to tell her that she didn’t owe him anything. That this—this moment, this feeling—was already more than he could have ever asked for. But all he could do was nod. And hope that she didn’t hear how loud his heart was beating.
~~~
The stands were packed. It was Sungho’s final match, and the pressure was heavier than ever. College scouts were watching, his coach was counting on him, and the entire school had turned up to see the team play their last game. But none of that mattered. Because as Sungho jogged onto the field, his eyes immediately found her.
(Y/n) sat in the front row, right where she said she’d be. And there it was—the sight that made his chest tighten, that made his hands shake, that made all the noise in the stadium fade into nothing. She was wearing his jersey. His name. His number. On her back, on display for everyone to see. His heart soared. (Y/n) caught his gaze and waved, flashing him a bright smile. “Play well, idiot!”
For the first time in his life, he felt invincible. And that feeling carried onto the field. Sungho played like a man possessed. Every move was calculated, every pass crisp, every shot clean. He ran faster, pushed harder, gave everything he had. It was as if all the years of training, all the sacrifices, all the heartbreak had built up to this moment.
And by the time the final whistle blew, their team had won. The crowd erupted into cheers, but Sungho barely heard any of it. His teammates swarmed him, congratulating him, slapping his back, ruffling his hair. He caught sight of the scouts nodding approvingly from the stands.
But all he cared about was running straight to her. (Y/n) was already waiting at the edge of the field, grinning at him. “You played amazing!” Sungho, still breathless, grinned back. “It was because of you.” She rolled her eyes, but her smile didn’t fade. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll take the credit.” He chuckled, shaking his head.
For once, just for a fleeting moment, it felt like maybe—just maybe—she was his. Even if it was just a jersey. Even if it was just for today. He would hold onto this moment forever.
~~~
College had come faster than either of them had expected. Graduation was a blur of flashing cameras, tight hugs, and tearful goodbyes. Sungho had walked across that stage with a diploma in one hand and (Y/n)’s hand in the other as they cheered for each other, promising that no matter what, they would stay close. And they had.
Now, months later, college life had settled in. Sungho had grown even more popular than before, which wasn’t surprising. As a key player on the university’s soccer team, his name was known across campus. Add his devastatingly good looks, broad frame, and the way he carried himself—girls were obsessed with him.
But he barely dated. No one understood why. It wasn’t that he didn’t have options. If anything, he probably had too many. Everywhere he went, someone was trying to get his number, slide into his DMs, or “accidentally” bump into him on campus. And yet, every single time, he turned them down.
Because the only girl he wanted was sitting right next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder, groaning as she lost another round of Mario Kart. “Ugh, this game is rigged!” (Y/n) whined, tossing her controller onto the couch. Woonhak, who had been absolutely demolishing everyone in the game, grinned. “Nah, you just suck.” “Watch your mouth, Wonnie,” (Y/n) shot back, flicking his forehead.
The entire dorm was packed with laughter. Sungho and his roommates—Jaehyun, Taesan, Riwoo, Leehan, and Woonhak—had all gathered for their usual game night, and as always, (Y/n) was right there with them. It was almost like high school again. Almost. Except now, things were different.
Now, (Y/n) had a boyfriend. An insecure, controlling, jealous boyfriend. Sungho tried not to think about him too much because if he did, he’d probably end up punching a hole in the wall.
The guy was an asshole—the type who threw a tantrum if (Y/n) spent too much time with other guys, the type who went through her phone when she wasn’t looking, the type who made her feel guilty for hanging out with her best friend. The only reason she was even here tonight was because the guy was out of town for the weekend.
And Sungho? He was doing what he had always done—waiting in the background, silently wishing she would realize that he was right here.
~~~
They had been playing for over an hour when (Y/n) suddenly turned to Sungho with a grin. “So, I have this friend,” she started. Sungho’s shoulders tensed. “No.” (Y/n) blinked. “I didn’t even say anything yet.” “I already know where this is going.” “You don’t even know her.” “I don’t need to.” (Y/n) groaned, dramatically flopping against his side. “Why do you never date anyone?”
Jaehyun, who had been lazily scrolling through his phone, smirked. “Yeah, Sungho. Why don’t you tell us why you’re the most eligible bachelor on campus but refuse to actually be a bachelor?” The other guys snickered. Sungho rolled his eyes. “I’m focusing on my career.” Jaehyun snorted. “You’ve been using that excuse since high school, bro.” “Maybe because it’s true.”
(Y/n) frowned, nudging his arm. “Still, you should at least try. You’ll never find ‘the one’ if you don’t put yourself out there.” Sungho could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. Oh, the irony. Here she was, pushing him to date someone—anyone—without realizing that he had already found ‘the one.’
She was sitting right next to him. And she was completely oblivious. His grip tightened on the controller. For a brief, reckless moment, he wanted to say it. He wanted to grab her hand, look her in the eye, and tell her that the reason he never dated anyone was because no one else could compare to her. That every time she looked at another guy, it made his chest ache. That he had been trying to tell her in a million different ways, but she never seemed to see it.
But then he remembered her boyfriend. The possessive jerk who already hated how much time she spent with him. Sungho clenched his jaw and swallowed the words down. Instead, he forced a chuckle. “I’ll date when I have time.” (Y/n) sighed. “Fine, fine. But don’t complain when you end up alone with just a soccer ball for company.”
Leehan snickered. “I mean, the guy’s basically married to soccer at this point.” Taesan smirked. “Maybe he does have someone in mind but doesn’t wanna tell us.” “Definitely,” Riwoo added. “There’s no way he’s staying single by choice. There’s gotta be someone.” Sungho gave them all a warning glare, but Jaehyun just smirked. “Ohhh, I bet I know who it is,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.
Sungho shot him a sharp look. Jaehyun just smirked harder. “Relax, I won’t say it out loud.” Sungho swore he was going to kill him. (Y/n), however, just laughed. “I swear, you guys act like Sungho’s some tragic love story waiting to happen.”
If only she knew. Sungho swallowed hard and focused on the screen, pretending he wasn’t feeling like a complete idiot. He had been in love with her for years. And somehow, she was still completely blind to it.
~~~
After everyone had left and the dorm was finally quiet, Sungho lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The conversation from earlier kept replaying in his head. “You’ll never find ‘the one’ if you don’t put yourself out there.” He let out a dry, humorless chuckle. She really had no idea, did she? He turned onto his side, exhaling slowly.
(Y/n) had always been the one he wanted. And no matter how hard he tried to move on, no one else ever seemed to matter. But she was still dating him. And so, just like always, Sungho stayed silent. And hoped—prayed—that one day, she’d finally see him.
~~~
Sunday arrived like a storm waiting to strike. (Y/n) had spent the entire weekend with Sungho and his roommates, laughing, playing video games, and forgetting—if only for a little while—about the suffocating grip of her relationship. But then, he came back. And all hell broke loose.
~~~
The moment (Y/n) walked into her boyfriend’s apartment, she could tell something was wrong. He was already sitting on the couch, arms crossed, jaw tight, his phone in his hand as if he had just gotten the worst news of his life. His eyes flicked up at her entrance, dark and stormy. (Y/n) barely had a second to speak before his voice cut through the room.
“So, did you have fun?” She blinked. “Huh?” He scoffed, standing up. “Don’t ‘huh’ me. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Confused, (Y/n) dropped her bag on the counter. “I literally just got here. What’s wrong with you?” “What’s wrong with me?” He let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you spent the entire weekend hanging out with Sungho and his little soccer crew?”
(Y/n)’s stomach twisted. Of course. Of course his friends had told him. She sighed, crossing her arms. “I don’t see why that’s a problem.” His nostrils flared. “You really don’t?” “No, I don’t,” she shot back. “They’re my friends. You act like I was cheating on you or something—”
His hand slammed against the wall beside him, making her flinch. “Because that’s what it looks like, (Y/n)!” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how it makes me look when my girlfriend is running around with some guy all weekend?” She took a step back, hands curling into fists. “I wasn’t ‘running around’ with anyone! I was just—” “With him,” he cut in, voice sharp. “Always him.”
Her breath caught in her throat. She had known he was insecure, but this… this was something else. She shook her head. “You’re being ridiculous.” His lips curled. “Am I?” “Yes! Because nothing is going on between me and Sungho!” He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “You really expect me to believe that? That guy has been in love with you for years!”
(Y/n) froze. For a second, she thought she misheard him. “What…?” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, don’t play dumb. Everyone knows. His friends, your friends—hell, even my friends knew before I did.”
(Y/n)’s heart was pounding. Sungho… in love with her? No. That wasn’t possible. If that were true, she would have known. Right? But before she could even process it, he stepped closer, his voice dropping lower. “I bet you like it, don’t you?” he muttered. “Having him wrapped around your finger. Knowing that no matter how many guys you date, he’ll always be waiting for you like some pathetic little puppy.”
Her blood ran cold. “That’s not—” “Shut up.” She stilled. The air in the room changed. The way he looked at her now—it wasn’t anger. It was something darker. Her stomach turned. For the first time in their entire relationship, she felt… unsafe. And then it happened.
His hand moved. He didn’t hit her. Not really. But he raised his hand as if he was going to. And that was enough. (Y/n) didn’t stay to see what happened next. She turned, grabbed her bag, and ran.
~~~
By the time she made it to Sungho’s apartment, she was breathless, shaking, barely able to see through the tears streaming down her face. She knocked frantically, heart hammering against her ribs. Seconds later, the door swung open. Sungho stood there, dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, hair messy from what must have been a nap. The moment he saw her face, his entire body went rigid.
“(Y/n)?” His voice was urgent. “What happened?” She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. She just collapsed against him, sobbing. His arms were around her in an instant, warm, steady, grounding. She gripped his hoodie, shaking. “I—I didn’t know where else to go.” Sungho’s jaw tightened.
He didn’t know what had happened yet, but he knew it had to do with that bastard she called a boyfriend. His grip on her tightened. “You’re always welcome here". She sniffled, nodding against his chest. For a long time, neither of them spoke. Sungho just held her, rubbing soothing circles on her back, waiting. Eventually, her breathing evened out. And when she finally pulled away, wiping her face, Sungho guided her inside without a word.
She sat down on his couch, and he crouched in front of her, searching her face. “Tell me,” he said softly. Her lips trembled. “We fought.” His hands curled into fists. No shit. But he kept his voice calm. “About what?” She exhaled shakily. “About you.” Sungho’s stomach twisted. Of course. Of course it was about him.
“I told him nothing was going on,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “That we’re just friends. But he… he didn’t believe me.” Sungho swallowed hard. “Did he… did he hurt you?” She hesitated. And that hesitation was enough. Sungho shot to his feet.
That motherf—
“No!” (Y/n) grabbed his wrist, panicked. “He didn’t hit me! He just—he almost did. But he didn’t.” Sungho’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles went white. Almost wasn’t good enough. He had tried. That bastard had tried to hurt her. And for that, Sungho was going to kill him. But then (Y/n) pulled him back down, shaking her head. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t do anything. Just… stay.”
His heart cracked. She was terrified. And right now, she didn’t need a fight. She needed him. So, with every ounce of restraint in his body, Sungho took a deep breath and sat beside her. She leaned her head against his shoulder, exhausted. And once again, just like always, Sungho was there. Holding her together when she was falling apart. Even though, deep down, he knew… She would never look at him the way he looked at her.
~~~
(Y/n) had cried herself to sleep. Sungho stayed beside her until her breathing evened out, her fingers still curled slightly into his hoodie, as if holding onto him even in sleep. He wished—God, he wished—he could stay there. Just lie down, pull her into his arms, and let her know that no one would ever hurt her again. But he knew better.
She didn’t need that from him. Not right now. So, with a quiet sigh, he carefully untangled himself from her grasp, tucked the blanket around her, and stood up. If he couldn’t hold her, he would do the next best thing. Take care of her.
Sungho wasn’t exactly a chef, but he knew his way around a kitchen. Growing up with his mom working late shifts meant he had to learn how to cook pretty early on, and now, it was just second nature. Opening the fridge, he took stock of what he had. Eggs. Rice. Leftover chicken. Some vegetables. Good enough.
As he started cooking, his mind wandered back to what had happened. The rage was still there, burning in his chest, barely contained. That bastard. That absolute coward. The fact that he had almost hit (Y/n) made Sungho’s blood boil. What kind of man even thought of raising a hand against the person they claimed to love?
It took everything in him not to grab his keys, storm out, and track the guy down himself. But he didn’t. Because she had asked him not to. So, instead, he let out a long breath and focused on chopping vegetables, the rhythmic motion calming him—if only slightly.
Right as he was stirring the rice, the front door swung open. Jaehyun, Taesan, Riwoo, Leehan, and Woonhak all walked in, talking loudly about their day—until they saw Sungho. Standing in the kitchen. Cooking. Alone. Which was weird, because usually, (Y/n) would be sitting on the counter or at the table, chatting with Sungho as he cooked.
Jaehyun raised a brow. “Uh… bro?” Sungho looked up. “Yo.” Taesan crossed his arms. “Where’s (Y/n)?” “Asleep,” Sungho said, lowering his voice. “In my room.” A beat of silence.
Then—
Woonhak’s eyes went wide. “HYUNG?!” Sungho’s head snapped toward him, glaring. “Not like that!” Riwoo smirked. “Damn. Thought you finally made a move.” Jaehyun frowned. “Wait. If she’s asleep here, then…” His voice trailed off, eyes darkening. “Did something happen?” Sungho exhaled. Then, quietly, he filled them in.
By the time he was done, the room was dead silent. Sungho didn’t need to look at his friends to know they were pissed. Jaehyun was gripping the back of a chair, knuckles white. Riwoo had his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap. Taesan, usually the chillest one, was staring at the floor, shaking his head.
Leehan muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Where does he live?” And Woonhak—who was usually bouncing off the walls—was completely still. It was Jaehyun who finally spoke. “Let’s kill him.” Sungho sighed. “No.”
“Why not?” Riwoo snapped. “Because she asked me not to do anything.” “That’s a dumb reason.” “I know.” Jaehyun let out a sharp breath. “At least let me break his nose.” Sungho shook his head. “Fine,” Jaehyun muttered. “But if I see him…” No one needed him to finish that sentence.
They tried to stay quiet after that, though the occasional curse still slipped out under their breath as Sungho finished cooking. Despite their anger, they knew that right now, what mattered most was (Y/n). She was safe here. With them. With him. And Sungho would do everything in his power to make sure she stayed safe.
~~~
Sungho had barely set the last dish on the table when he realized that nearly 30 minutes had passed since he left (Y/n) in his room. She should have woken up by now. Something wasn’t right. A flicker of concern passed through him as he wiped his hands on a kitchen towel and made his way to his bedroom. The moment he pushed the door open, his chest tightened.
There she was. Sitting on the bed, legs curled up against her chest, shoulders trembling. Her phone was in her hands, the screen dimly glowing. And silent tears were streaming down her face. Sungho felt his heart drop.
He had seen her cry many times before—more times than he ever should have—but this was different. This wasn’t just sadness. It was defeat. Wordlessly, he stepped closer and sat down beside her on the bed. She didn’t acknowledge him at first, too lost in whatever pain she was drowning in. It wasn’t until he gently took the phone from her hands that she finally spoke.
“I shouldn’t have checked.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, thick with emotion. “I knew I shouldn’t have checked, but I did.” Sungho’s jaw clenched as he glanced at the screen. A text from her ex. “You’re nothing without me.” “You’ll come back. You always do.” Sungho had never wanted to punch a phone more in his life.
His fingers curled tightly around the device before he forced himself to put it down. He inhaled sharply, pushing the rage away, focusing only on the girl in front of him. “Hey,” he murmured, shifting closer. “Look at me.” She did. Her eyes were red-rimmed, lashes clumped together from the tears, lips trembling. God, it hurt to see her like this.
Sungho reached out, gently brushing a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. “He’s wrong.” His voice was steady, firm. “You don’t need him. You never did.” (Y/n) sniffled, her lips pressing together as if she wanted to believe him—but couldn’t. So he kept going. “You know what you do have?” He gave her a small smile. “A bunch of annoying soccer players who would commit arson for you.”
A tiny, watery laugh escaped her lips. “Arson?” He grinned. “Jaehyun’s idea, not mine.” She shook her head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Sungho felt his chest loosen just a little. “You’re not alone, (Y/n),” he continued, his voice softer now. “You have us. You have me.”
For a moment, she just looked at him. And then, to his surprise, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “Thank you,” she whispered. Sungho closed his eyes for a second, inhaling the scent of her shampoo, the warmth of her against him. He wished he could stay like this forever. But instead, he chuckled, nudging her gently.
“Come on,” he said. “I made food.” She pulled back slightly, wiping her tears. “You cooked?” He smirked. “Don’t sound so surprised.” “I’m just saying, last time you tried to make ramen, you almost set the kitchen on fire.” “First of all, that was one time. Second, that wasn’t even my fault! The stove was possessed or something.” (Y/n) let out a real laugh this time, and Sungho felt a sense of victory flood through him. He stood up, holding a hand out to her. “Come on, before Woonhak eats everything.” (Y/n) hesitated only for a moment before placing her hand in his.
The moment they stepped into the kitchen, (Y/n) froze. Because there they were. Jaehyun, Taesan, Riwoo, Leehan, and Woonhak—already seated, waiting for her. Plates set, food still steaming. And just like that, tears welled up in her eyes again—but this time, not from sadness. From happiness.
Because even after everything… She still had them. She still had him. Sungho squeezed her hand gently. “You okay?” She looked up at him, a teary-eyed smile on her lips. “I am now.”
Dinner with the boys was exactly what (Y/n) needed. At first, she had been quiet, her mind still reeling from everything that had happened, but her friends—her family—refused to let her dwell in the pain for too long. Woonhak was the first to start reminiscing.
“Remember when we were in high school and Sungho hyung tried to impress a girl by doing that trick shot during practice?” Sungho groaned, already regretting being born. “Don’t—” “Ohhh,” Jaehyun smirked, leaning back in his chair. “The one where he tripped over his own feet and face-planted in front of the entire team?” (Y/n) gasped. “You didn’t!” “I did not.” “He did,” Taesan corrected, nodding solemnly. (Y/n) burst into laughter, the first genuine, unrestrained laugh she had let out in days. Sungho rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile. At least she was laughing.
The teasing continued throughout dinner, with the boys throwing out story after story—from Woonhak getting locked in a janitor’s closet by accident to Riwoo completely forgetting his jersey before an important match and having to borrow one from a fan. For a little while, (Y/n) forgot. Forgot the heartbreak. Forgot the pain. But the moment they started clearing up the dishes, reality came crashing back. She still had so many of her things at her ex’s apartment.
Clothes. Jewelry. Books. Memories. And she didn’t want to leave them there. But the thought of going back alone—of seeing him again—made her stomach twist in anxiety. Sungho immediately noticed the shift in her mood. “You okay?” He nudged her gently as he dried a plate. (Y/n) hesitated.
Then, in a quiet voice, she admitted, “I still have a lot of my stuff at his place.”
The entire kitchen went silent.
Even Woonhak, who had been humming some random tune, stopped in his tracks.
It was Jaehyun who spoke first. “You want us to go get it for you?”
She bit her lip. “No, I… I should go myself.”
Sungho’s grip on the dish towel tightened.
“You don’t have to,” he said. “We can handle it.”
She shook her head. “If I don’t do it myself, I feel like… I don’t know. Like I’m running away.”
He hated that she was right.
(Y/n) was always the type to face things head-on, even when it hurt.
Sungho respected that about her.
He also hated that about her.
Because it meant she would willingly put herself in situations where she could get hurt again.
He exhaled, placing the towel down. “Then I’m coming with you.”
Her head snapped up. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.”
She looked at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her eyes.
Then, she nodded.
“Okay.”
Sungho gave her a small, reassuring smile.
Whatever happened next…
She wouldn’t face it alone.
~~~
The night passed in a strange mixture of comfort and tension.
(Y/n) had borrowed one of Sungho’s oversized shirts to sleep in, drowning in its fabric, the sleeves slipping past her fingers. It smelled just like him—clean, fresh, and familiar.
She had teased him about the size.
“You’re way too buff now,” she had joked, tugging at the loose collar. “You used to be a skinny little thing back in high school.”
Sungho had laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… things change.”
She hadn’t thought anything of it.
But to him, those words held a heavier meaning.
She had changed too.
She had changed in ways that made his heart ache, in ways that made him want to shield her from the world.
And yet, here she was.
Curled up in his bed, stealing his blankets, her face peaceful as sleep overtook her.
Sungho, on the other hand, lay awake on the mattress on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
His mind wouldn’t shut off.
Because tomorrow…
Tomorrow, they would go back to her ex’s place.
And Sungho was ready for a fight.
~~~
The smell of coffee filled the apartment the next morning.
Sungho had woken up early, unable to sleep much anyway, so he had taken it upon himself to make breakfast.
(Y/n) walked out of his room, hair a little messy, still wearing his shirt.
Sungho nearly burned the eggs.
She needs to stop looking so good in my clothes.
“Morning,” she yawned, rubbing her eyes as she sat at the kitchen counter.
“Morning,” he replied, sliding a plate of toast and eggs in front of her.
She blinked at it. “You’re really trying to prove to me that you can cook, huh?”
He smirked. “Maybe.”
She took a bite, humming in approval. “Alright, Chef Park. I approve.”
Sungho chuckled, sitting down across from her, but the lighthearted moment was short-lived.
Because they both knew what was coming next.
(Y/n) set her fork down, exhaling.
“Are you sure you want to come with me?” she asked, her voice softer now. “I don’t want to drag you into drama with him.”
Sungho leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “You are not going there alone.”
She studied his face for a moment, then nodded.
“Okay.”
Sungho clenched his jaw, already preparing himself.
Her ex hated him.
But that didn’t matter.
Because Sungho hated him more.
And if he so much as breathed the wrong way toward (Y/n)…
There wouldn’t be a fight.
There would be a war.
~~~
The drive to her ex’s apartment was tense.
(Y/n) sat quietly in the passenger seat, fiddling with the hem of her sweater, her nerves eating at her. Sungho could feel it—see it—in the way she kept bouncing her knee, in the way her hands twisted together every few seconds.
She was nervous.
Scared.
And he hated that she had to feel that way because of him.
Sungho’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles turning white.
He had seen her go through heartbreak before, had watched her wipe her own tears and piece herself back together time and time again.
But this time felt different.
Because this time, she had almost been hurt.
Physically.
Sungho exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. He had to stay calm—for her.
He glanced at her briefly, reaching out to place a warm hand on her knee. “You okay?”
(Y/n) let out a small breath. “I will be.”
It wasn’t a yes.
But it wasn’t a no, either.
And for now, that was enough.
When they arrived at the apartment complex, (Y/n) hesitated for a second before stepping out of the car.
Sungho was immediately by her side, his presence grounding, steady.
The text she had sent to her ex had been left on read—no response, no acknowledgment.
She had no idea what to expect.
And that terrified her.
Sungho, on the other hand, was prepared for anything.
The moment the door swung open, (Y/n)’s ex leaned against the frame, an unimpressed look on his face.
“Well, well,” he drawled, crossing his arms. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”
(Y/n) swallowed hard. “I just want my stuff.”
Her ex scoffed, looking her up and down before his gaze shifted to Sungho.
And there it was.
That look of disgust.
That mocking smirk.
“You really can’t do anything without him, huh?” The ex tilted his head. “I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised. You always ran to him whenever things got hard.”
Sungho’s fists clenched at his sides.
(Y/n) inhaled sharply. “Just let me get my things, and I’ll be out of your way.”
The ex let out a humorless chuckle, stepping aside. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
(Y/n) didn’t waste time.
She hurried inside, grabbing her bags and whatever else she could carry while Sungho stood by the doorway, his eyes locked onto the ex like a hawk watching its prey.
It should have ended there.
It could have ended there.
But the ex just had to keep talking.
“You know,” he mused, leaning against the wall, “it’s pathetic, really. The way you follow her around like some lovesick puppy.”
Sungho’s jaw tightened.
“She’s never gonna love you back, you know that, right?” The ex smirked. “You’ll always just be her backup plan.”
And that was it.
The final straw.
Before Sungho even realized it, his fist connected with the guy’s jaw with a sickening crack.
The ex stumbled back, clutching his face. “You son of a—”
Sungho was already moving to hit him again, but—
“Sungho.”
One word.
One voice.
(Y/n)’s hand was on his arm, her fingers gentle yet firm.
And just like that, he stopped.
Breathing heavily, he glared down at the ex, his voice low and dangerous.
“She’s not yours to talk about,” he seethed. “Not anymore.”
The ex wiped his bloody lip, glaring up at Sungho.
“Let’s go,” (Y/n) whispered, pulling him away.
And this time, Sungho listened.
Because the only thing that mattered now…
Was getting her away from this place.
~~~
Chapter Fifteen: A Chance Given
The rhythmic sounds of water running and dishes clinking filled the kitchen as (Y/n) and Sungho worked side by side, washing and drying the plates.
Despite the weight of their earlier conversation, things between them had settled back into normalcy—like nothing had happened.
They talked about their professors, about college, about how Jaehyun had nearly set the microwave on fire last week by trying to heat up an aluminum-wrapped sandwich.
It was comfortable.
Safe.
Until (Y/n) said something that nearly made Sungho drop the plate he was drying.
“I’d give you a chance.”
Sungho froze.
“…What?”
(Y/n) turned her head slightly, looking at him as she handed him another plate. “I said I’d give you a chance.”
Sungho blinked, trying to process her words.
A chance?
A chance for what?
To explain himself?
To move on?
To—
His hands clenched slightly around the dish towel as he swallowed. “I… don’t understand.”
(Y/n) sighed, rinsing the last plate before turning off the water.
She wiped her hands on a towel, then turned fully to face him.
“What I mean is,” she said slowly, “I don’t have feelings for you right now—or at least, I don’t think I do. But… that’s because I’ve never looked at you as anything more than a friend before.”
Sungho remained silent, watching her intently.
She hesitated for a moment, then continued.
“But if I try—if I give myself a chance to see you as more than just my best friend—” she bit her lip, “—maybe I will fall for you.”
Silence.
The only sound in the kitchen was the soft dripping of water from the sink.
Sungho stared at her, unsure if he had actually heard her correctly or if his mind was playing some cruel joke on him.
“…Are you serious?” he asked finally.
(Y/n) gave him a small, uncertain smile. “Yeah.”
His heart pounded in his chest.
After years of standing in the background…
Years of watching her fall for all the wrong guys…
Years of wondering if she’d ever look his way…
She was saying this?
Sungho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
“You don’t have to force yourself,” he muttered, looking away. “I don’t want you to pity me, (Y/n).”
(Y/n) frowned, stepping closer.
“It’s not pity,” she said firmly. “It’s a realization.”
He glanced at her, skeptical. “A realization?”
She nodded. “That maybe… just maybe, I’ve been looking in the wrong places this whole time.”
Sungho’s breath caught in his throat.
He wasn’t sure what to say.
What to think.
He had spent so long preparing himself for a lifetime of unrequited love.
And now, here she was, telling him that maybe—just maybe—he had a chance after all.
“…So,” he started cautiously, voice quieter than before, “what does that mean? For us?”
(Y/n) took a deep breath.
“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “But I want to find out.”
A slow, hesitant smile tugged at Sungho’s lips.
“…Yeah?”
She nodded.
And for the first time in a long time…
Hope bloomed in his chest.
~~~
A movie played in the background, but Sungho barely registered what was happening on the screen.
His mind was spinning.
(Y/n) said she’d give me a chance…
The words echoed over and over, replaying in his head like a broken record.
What did that mean for him?
How was he supposed to act?
Should he do something different? Should he try harder to win her heart?
Or should he just be himself?
He wasn’t sure.
He was too lost in his thoughts to notice that (Y/n) had gone quiet beside him.
She had stopped watching the movie.
Instead, she was staring at him.
Or more specifically—at his hand.
Her brows furrowed, concern flashing in her eyes. “Sungho… your hand.”
He blinked, pulled out of his daze.
“What?”
(Y/n) grabbed his wrist and turned his hand over, gently running her fingers over his knuckles. They were bruised, slightly swollen from earlier.
“You punched him.” She looked up at him, scolding. “Why didn’t I notice this earlier?”
Sungho shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?” She scoffed. “Sungho, what if you broke your hand? What about soccer? Your future?”
He hesitated.
She wasn’t wrong. He should have been more careful.
But at that moment—when her ex kept running his mouth, throwing insult after insult—he just… snapped.
“I didn’t think about that,” he admitted quietly.
(Y/n) sighed. “Of course, you didn’t.”
She gently ran her thumb over his knuckles again, making him shiver slightly at the soft touch.
Then, to his surprise, she held his hand in both of hers.
“…Thank you,” she said, voice softer this time. “For standing up for me. But next time, don’t be so reckless, okay? I don’t want you to ruin your career because of me.”
Sungho felt his heart squeeze.
He swallowed thickly, looking at their intertwined hands.
“Even if it was reckless… I don’t regret it.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
(Y/n) glanced up at him. “Sungho…”
Before she could say anything else, she suddenly stood up and pulled him along with her.
“Come on.”
He blinked. “Huh? Where are we going?”
“To take care of your hand.”
Sungho let her drag him into the bathroom, where she pulled out a bottle of lotion and some ointment from the cabinet.
The way she was fussing over him, scolding him one second and then carefully tending to his bruises the next…
She definitely felt like a girlfriend right now.
And he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or terrified.
~~~
Sungho sat on the closed toilet seat as (Y/n) carefully applied ointment to his bruised knuckles.
The warmth of her hands against his sent an uneasy flutter through his chest.
She was focused, her bottom lip slightly jutted out as she worked. It was a look he’d seen a thousand times before—when she was studying, reading, or even concentrating on beating him at video games.
But this time, it felt… different.
And that scared him a little.
Sungho had spent years dreaming about this moment—(Y/n) seeing him as something more.
Now that it was happening, he had no idea how to act.
Should he be more flirty? More confident? Or should he just act like nothing changed?
The uncertainty was eating at him.
“…I have to ask,” he finally said, breaking the silence.
(Y/n) hummed in acknowledgment, still focused on his hand.
“How am I supposed to act now?”
She paused for a second before looking up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” Sungho sighed, rubbing his free hand over the back of his neck. “You said you’d give me a chance, right? That you’d try to look at me as more than just your best friend.”
(Y/n) nodded slowly.
“Well… how does that work?” He chuckled awkwardly. “Am I supposed to do something different? Or should I just… be me?”
(Y/n) was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking.
Then she put the lotion bottle down and sat back, crossing her arms.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, tilting her head slightly. “I mean… I do like you, Sungho. I care about you a lot. But I’ve never really thought about you in a romantic way before, so I don’t know how to just switch that in my head.”
Sungho nodded, trying not to let her words sting. It wasn’t like she was rejecting him—she was just being honest.
(Y/n) sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Maybe we should try going on dates.”
Sungho blinked. “Dates?”
She nodded again. “Yeah. I mean, how else am I supposed to start seeing you as a boyfriend instead of just my best friend?”
His heart stuttered in his chest.
Dates.
With her.
Sungho swallowed. “So… like, real dates? Not just us hanging out like usual?”
(Y/n) smiled slightly. “Yeah. Real dates.”
He could feel his ears burning.
This was actually happening.
He had been waiting years to hear those words, and now they were coming straight from her lips.
“Okay,” he said, voice steady despite the storm inside him. “Then let’s do it.”
(Y/n) grinned. “Alright then.”
And just like that, everything between them changed.
~~~
That night, both (Y/n) and Sungho lay awake in separate rooms, lost in their own thoughts.
It was weird—this nervousness between them.
They had spent so many nights in the same apartment before, hanging out until late, watching movies, playing games, or just talking about life. But now, the air felt different.
Sungho had stolen Woonhak’s room for the night, letting (Y/n) have his own. Woonhak wasn’t coming home anyway, so it didn’t matter. But even though Sungho had the whole bed to himself, he couldn’t sleep.
She agreed to date me. We’re actually going on a date tomorrow.
He felt like a middle schooler experiencing his first-ever crush all over again.
What if he messed this up? What if she realized that she couldn’t see him that way?
But still, despite his nerves, there was one overpowering emotion.
Happiness.
Even if this didn’t lead to anything… even if she didn’t fall for him the way he had fallen for her years ago… at least he got the chance.
That alone was enough.
The next morning, Sungho woke up earlier than usual. He stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, mentally preparing himself for the day.
A date. With (Y/n).
Their first real date.
After washing up and changing into a decent outfit, he headed to the kitchen where he found (Y/n) already making breakfast.
She turned and smiled at him. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
He grinned. “You’re only calling me that because I woke up after you.”
“Exactly.”
Sungho chuckled, stepping beside her to help.
For a moment, it felt normal again—like they were just best friends hanging out like always.
But then he remembered.
No, this is different now.
Their first date was simple. They didn’t have much time to plan anything extravagant, so they decided to go for a walk around a nearby park.
At first, it didn’t feel much different from their usual hangouts.
They talked about their classes, complained about assignments, and made fun of their friends.
It was normal.
Too normal.
Sungho wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
But then… he made a move.
With all the courage he could muster, he reached out and gently took (Y/n)’s hand in his.
It wasn’t the first time they had held hands.
They had done it countless times before—while running from the rain, while crossing the street, while dragging each other to new places.
But this time, it felt different.
And (Y/n) felt it too.
She tried to ignore the fluttery feeling in her stomach, tried to pretend it was nothing.
But her fingers tightened slightly around his.
And Sungho?
He smiled.
Because maybe—just maybe—this could really lead to something after all.
~~~
Chapter Nineteen: A Small Step Forward
As their walk neared its end, they stumbled upon a small café nestled between two larger buildings. Neither of them had seen it before, and the warm, inviting scent of freshly baked pastries drifted through the open door.
(Y/n) turned to Sungho, eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Should we check it out?”
Sungho glanced at the name on the sign—Sweet Haven—and nodded. “Why not? We have time.”
The café was cozy, decorated with soft lighting and shelves filled with plants and books. It wasn’t crowded, just a few other customers enjoying the calm atmosphere.
As they approached the counter, (Y/n) looked over the menu. “Hmm… what should I get?”
Sungho smirked. “Whatever you want. I’m paying.”
(Y/n) raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh? Big spender today?”
He shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’m a gentleman. And it’s our first date, so of course, I’m paying.”
(Y/n) grinned. “You always spoil me, you know.”
Sungho chuckled, nudging her shoulder lightly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
In the end, they each ordered a drink and a pastry—(Y/n) went for a chocolate croissant while Sungho chose a cinnamon roll.
After picking up their order, they found a quiet table by the window. Sungho watched as (Y/n) took a sip of her drink, her shoulders relaxing as she took in the café’s peaceful atmosphere.
“This place is nice,” she said, setting her cup down. “We should come here more often.”
“Yeah,” Sungho agreed, taking a bite of his cinnamon roll. “It’s a good spot for studying too.”
(Y/n) groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. We have that test next week.”
Sungho smirked. “Oh, now you remember?”
“I remembered, I just chose to ignore it.”
They laughed, falling into an easy conversation about their classes.
Then, in a moment of spontaneity, (Y/n) decided to test the waters.
She broke off a piece of her croissant and, without thinking too much about it, held it out toward Sungho.
Sungho blinked at her, his brain short-circuiting for a moment.
Was she… feeding him?
(Y/n) simply tilted her head. “Come on, try it. It’s really good.”
Sungho hesitated for only a second before leaning in, opening his mouth, and letting her place the pastry on his tongue.
The moment he chewed and swallowed, he felt his face heat up—burning up, actually.
He tried to act normal, but (Y/n) caught the way his ears turned bright red.
She giggled. “Why do you look so embarrassed?”
“I—” Sungho coughed, grabbing his drink and taking a quick sip. “It’s nothing.”
She grinned. “Oh, it’s definitely something.”
Sungho groaned, covering his face with his hands. “You’re evil.”
(Y/n) just laughed, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction.
After finishing their drinks and pastries, they got up to leave.
As they walked toward the exit, the café owner—a sweet-looking elderly woman—smiled warmly at them.
“You two are such a lovely couple,” she said.
(Y/n) and Sungho froze at the same time.
Sungho glanced at (Y/n), waiting for her to correct the woman.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she simply smiled and gave a small nod.
“Thank you,” (Y/n) said softly.
Sungho’s heart did a little flip in his chest.
As they stepped outside, he shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to fight the giddy smile forming on his lips.
Maybe—just maybe—this was really happening.
~~~
Chapter Twenty: Not So Subtle
As Sungho and (Y/n) walked back to the apartment, their hands still loosely intertwined, Sungho felt like he was floating. His palm was warm against hers, and she hadn’t pulled away the entire walk home.
It wasn’t their first time holding hands, but this time, it meant something different.
(Y/n) had said she would try to look at him as more than a friend. And maybe—just maybe—this was a small sign that she already was.
But before Sungho could dwell on the thought too much, they stepped inside the apartment and were immediately greeted by a chorus of noise.
“HEY, PASS THE CONTROLLER!”
“WOONHAK, STOP BUTTON MASHING!”
“Jaehyun, you absolute menace, how did you do that combo?!”
The living room was pure chaos. The five boys were sprawled across the couch and floor, completely immersed in an intense video game match. Well, except for Taesan, who was sitting in the corner with a book in his hands, eyebrows furrowed like he was trying to read but failing miserably because of the noise.
However, the second they noticed Sungho and (Y/n) entering the apartment, everything stopped.
Jaehyun paused the game mid-battle.
Woonhak dropped his controller.
Riwoo nearly choked on his drink.
Leehan blinked in shock.
And Taesan, who had barely been paying attention, finally glanced up from his book—only for his eyes to widen slightly.
Because there, in clear view for everyone to see, were Sungho and (Y/n)’s intertwined hands.
For a solid three seconds, there was absolute silence.
Then—
“HOLY SH—”
“NO FREAKING WAY.”
“OH, THIS IS BIG.”
Sungho barely had time to react before Jaehyun leaped over the couch like an excited golden retriever.
“ARE YOU GUYS—” He pointed at their hands. “IS THIS—”
Riwoo gasped dramatically. “Are we witnessing the birth of a new power couple?”
Leehan grinned. “Took you long enough, dude.”
Meanwhile, Woonhak’s reaction was arguably the loudest. He jumped up and started hopping around like an overexcited child. “GUYS, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS? MY SHIP IS FINALLY SAILING!”
(Y/n) laughed, shaking her head. “Your ship?”
Woonhak nodded aggressively. “YES. I’ve been rooting for you two since high school!”
Sungho groaned, covering his face with his free hand. “Oh my god.”
(Y/n simply giggled, her fingers still wrapped around his. “I didn’t realize we had fans.”
“Oh, you do,” Jaehyun confirmed, slinging an arm around Sungho’s shoulder. “We’ve all been watching this painfully slow love story unfold for years.”
Sungho rolled his eyes. “You guys are being dramatic.”
Taesan, who had been quiet this whole time, finally spoke up. He closed his book and leaned back against the couch, smirking slightly. “So… does this mean you’re actually dating now? Or is this still a ‘trial period’?”
(Y/n) gave Sungho a quick glance before answering, “Let’s just say we’re figuring it out.”
The boys groaned in unison.
“UGH, NOT THIS AGAIN.”
“JUST DATE ALREADY.”
“YOU’RE KILLING US.”
(Y/n) laughed as Sungho rubbed the back of his neck, feeling both embarrassed and amused.
Jaehyun clapped him on the back. “You better not mess this up, man.”
Sungho shot him a glare. “I wasn’t planning to.”
Leehan smirked. “Good. Because if you do, we’re stealing her.”
(Y/n) grinned. “Oh? I have options now?”
Woonhak dramatically placed a hand over his heart. “Of course! You’re the honorary little sister of this group—”
“We’re the same age,” (Y/n) reminded him.
“Details.”
Sungho sighed, shaking his head. “I regret everything.”
(Y/n squeezed his hand. “No, you don’t.”
And he didn’t.
Because as chaotic as his friends were, this moment—holding (Y/n)’s hand and seeing her trying to look at him differently—it was everything he had been waiting for.
~~~
The apartment was loud, warm, and smelled like everything delicious and bad for your health. Fried chicken, pizza, kimchi stew—all of it spread across the coffee table, barely leaving space for drinks and napkins. Everyone had finally agreed that no one was cooking tonight, and delivery was the only answer.
(Y/n) was nestled comfortably between Sungho and the couch, her legs stretched out as she leaned against a floor cushion. She picked at a piece of fried chicken while Woonhak was dramatically retelling a story about how he almost slipped in the locker room and blamed a ghost.
Jaehyun interrupted him halfway through. “That was just soap, you idiot.”
“It moved on its own!”
“That’s literally what soap does on a wet floor.”
“Guys,” (Y/n) said through a laugh, “Can I just eat in peace without imagining haunted soap trying to kill Woonhak?”
Sungho chuckled next to her, holding up a piece of tteokbokki with his chopsticks. “Here,” he said, gently nudging it toward her. “Open up.”
(Y/n) blinked at him, surprised. “What?”
“You looked distracted. Thought I’d feed you,” he said, a little teasing but still casual.
She narrowed her eyes at him playfully, but opened her mouth anyway, letting him feed her the spicy rice cake. “You just want me to owe you,” she said after chewing. “You’re going to collect this moment later, aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” Sungho grinned, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “But you already owe me for last weekend’s ice cream.”
“You offered!”
“Still counts.”
Taesan shook his head, smiling over his book. “You two are hopeless.”
“Hopelessly adorable,” Woonhak added, mouth full.
Then, casually and without warning, Leehan, who had been quietly munching on a slice of pizza at the edge of the group, looked up and said, “Honestly, if you two start dating, (Y/n) should just move in. She’s here all the time anyway.”
Sungho froze, drink halfway to his lips.
(Y/n) blinked. “…Excuse me?”
Jaehyun practically exploded. “YES! Thank you! I’ve been thinking this for months! She’s basically our sixth roommate already.”
“No,” Woonhak corrected him. “Seventh. You’re forgetting Riwoo.”
“Right, right. Sorry, bro.”
Riwoo, unfazed, popped a fry into his mouth. “She brings good snacks. I support this.”
Taesan finally lowered his book. “It would be kind of nice to have another calm presence around here. And someone who doesn’t shout while gaming.”
“I DO NOT—!” Woonhak started, then paused when everyone looked at him. “Okay. Fine. I shout a little.”
(Y/n) looked around, stunned. “You guys have all thought about this?”
“Not seriously,” Leehan replied with a shrug. “But it makes sense.”
She turned to Sungho beside her. He hadn’t said a word. He was looking at her, wide-eyed but with the tiniest smile threatening to form.
“Well?” she asked, tilting her head. “Would you want me to move in?”
His answer came without hesitation. “Yeah. I would.”
Her lips curled into a soft smile, and she looked down at her now-empty plate, clearly thinking it over.
“I’ll… think about it,” she said finally, and the smile she sent him was enough to make his heart race.
Then Jaehyun ruined the moment.
“God, please just do it already. You’re both acting like you’re still in a K-drama slow burn.”
Woonhak laughed. “Yeah, come on. Give us all the drama without the twenty-episode wait.”
“You watch twenty-episode dramas?” Taesan asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jaehyun shot him a glare. “Shut up. That’s not the point.”
Sungho was still staring at (Y/n), his heart somewhere up in his throat. She caught his eye and gave him a tiny nudge with her shoulder, as if to say, We’ll see.
And though they all moved on to arguing about who had to take out the trash, there was a different kind of buzz between them now. Something unspoken, something tender.
The kind of feeling that only came when something good was just beginning.
~~~
A light breeze rustled the leaves on the campus courtyard trees as Sungho waited just outside their lecture hall, balancing a small paper bag in one hand and constantly checking his phone with the other. He wasn’t sure why he felt nervous—he saw (Y/n) nearly every day—but there was something different about the way his stomach flipped when he spotted her weaving through the students, two iced coffees in her hands and that familiar bright smile on her face.
“Hey, look at you being all sweet,” she said, nodding at the bag he held.
“I could say the same,” Sungho replied, grinning as he took one of the drinks from her. “Thanks, you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” she said simply. “Pre-exam treat.”
He handed her the bag in return. “Your favorite chips. And those little chocolate-covered almonds you always steal from me anyway.”
(Y/n)’s eyes lit up. “You’re the best.”
Sungho felt his ears tinge red. He ducked his head, sipping his coffee and trying to will his heart to calm down. It wasn’t working.
They stood there for a few minutes, leaning against the railing, sipping their drinks and chatting about everything and nothing—trying to distract themselves from the fact that a difficult exam loomed right around the corner.
Sungho gave a long exhale. “I swear, if Professor Park throws another trick question about that one random formula we saw once, I’m leaving the room.”
(Y/n) laughed. “You’re not leaving. You’d sit there stewing in silent rage like you always do and then get an A anyway.”
He nudged her shoulder playfully. “What can I say? I’m academically driven… and terrified of failure.”
Just before the professor called them into the classroom, (Y/n) hesitated and turned to him, biting her lip like she was trying to choose her words carefully. “Hey… after the exam, do you wanna go out again? Like—just the two of us? It feels like we haven’t had a real moment alone in days. The boys are sweet, but they’re also… always around.”
Sungho blinked. His heart did that stupid little leap again. “Yeah,” he said quickly, nodding. “Yes. Definitely. I—actually, I know a place. But it’s kind of fancy.”
She raised a brow, amused. “Fancy?”
“Like… you might have to wear something nice. Not, like, ballgown nice, but, you know—nice.”
Her lips curled into a soft smile, amused and intrigued. “Oh? Since when are you a five-star-restaurant guy?”
“I’m not,” he admitted with a shy laugh. “But I’ve always wanted to take you somewhere nice.”
That made her pause, her cheeks turning just a little pink as she looked away for a second, trying to hide her smile. “Then I’ll find something nice to wear.”
Sungho pretended not to beam like a fool. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”
“Make it 6:45, and you’ve got yourself a date.”
And with that, they shared a lingering look before stepping into the classroom, nerves for the exam replaced—if only slightly—by the excitement for what came after.
~~~
The exam had drained most of their energy, but the idea of the date kept them both going—separate and jittery, preparing for what felt like their first real step into something new.
At Sungho’s apartment
Sungho stood in front of his open closet like a man staring into the abyss. Clothes were scattered across his bed, and his expression was a blend of panic and confusion.
“Why do I own so many t-shirts?!” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “None of these say, ‘Hey, I’m a mature, emotionally available man who knows how to treat a woman.’”
Woonhak flopped down on the bed, holding up a plain white button-up. “This one says ‘I might own a plant and ask you how your day was.’”
“Ew,” Jaehyun said from the doorframe. “Too soft. He needs something more smolder, less sensitive plant dad.”
“What does that even mean?” Sungho muttered, already trying on the shirt.
“It means this,” Taesan said, finally stepping in with a simple black dress shirt. “Dark. Sleek. You keep the top button open, roll the sleeves just a bit. Trust me.”
Riwoo peeked in. “You’re all doing a lot for someone who’s already smitten.”
Sungho gave him a look. “This is the first date. Not just a date. Our date. It has to be good.”
Jaehyun grinned. “He wants her to fall head over heels.”
“Obviously,” Woonhak chimed. “He’s been in love since like, grade school.”
Sungho threw a sock at him. “Shut up and help me figure out what pants go with this.”
Taesan smirked. “I’d suggest confidence, but dark jeans work too.”
At (Y/n)’s apartment
(Y/n) was surrounded by dresses. Lily sat cross-legged on the floor, tossing out suggestions like a fashion show judge, while Yujin rifled through accessories on the dresser.
“No. That one’s too soft-girl,” Lily said, holding up a pale pink option. “You’re not going to a picnic. You’re going on a date.”
“I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard,” (Y/n) said, chewing her lip. “It’s Sungho. It’s just… Sungho.”
Yujin looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Girl. Exactly. It’s Sungho. The guy who skipped practice for you, who cooks for you, who hit your ex for you. If anyone deserves effort—it’s him.”
(Y/n) let out a little laugh, then pulled out a deep burgundy dress. It was fitted, not too short, with elegant straps and just enough detail. “What about this?”
Lily whistled. “That’s the one.”
“Sexy, but not trying to be sexy,” Yujin nodded. “It’s like ‘oops I didn’t mean to stun you’ but also ‘yes, I’m very much dateable.’”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes with a smile. “You two are so dramatic.”
“You’re nervous,” Lily said gently. “But it’s okay to be. It’s different now, isn’t it? It’s not just best friends hanging out.”
(Y/n) nodded slowly. “Yeah… it feels different. But good-different. I just hope I don’t ruin it.”
Yujin came over and started helping with her hair. “You won’t. He’s already halfway in love. You just have to let yourself see him the same way.”
As her hair was styled into a soft half-up look, (Y/n) caught herself in the mirror. She looked… like someone about to go on a date with someone she cared about.
She smiled at her reflection.
And for the first time in a while—she was excited.
Back at Sungho’s place
Sungho was dressed and ready, nervously adjusting his collar for the fifth time. His roommates stood around him like a team prepping their star player before a big match.
“Okay,” Jaehyun said, holding up his phone. “Wallet, keys, gum. You’ve got all three?”
Sungho nodded.
“Remember,” Riwoo added, “don’t try too hard. Just be you. But the cool, composed version. Not the ‘tripped over his own shoelace freshman year’ version.”
Sungho groaned. “I knew you’d bring that up.”
“You’re gonna kill it, hyung,” Woonhak grinned, giving him a thumbs up. “She already loves you. She just hasn’t realized it yet.”
Sungho exhaled deeply.
Yeah… maybe.
But tonight, he’d help her see it.
~~~
At exactly 6:45, right on the dot like always, there was a gentle knock on (Y/n)’s dorm room door.
She took a deep breath, smoothing down the front of her dress with slightly shaky hands. One last glance in the mirror—and then she opened the door.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Sungho stood there, dressed in a fitted black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up just like Taesan had suggested. He’d styled his hair just enough to look effortless, his cologne faint but warm, and his posture—confident, relaxed… different. Everything about him tonight screamed boyfriend material. No—boyfriend goals.
“Wow,” she breathed before she could stop herself.
Sungho blinked, his breath catching the moment she stepped into the light. He’d seen (Y/n) dressed up before—school dances, formals—but this wasn’t the same. This wasn’t high school. She wasn’t just his best friend anymore. In that burgundy dress that hugged her figure just right, her hair half-up and falling over her shoulders, she looked like the kind of person you couldn’t take your eyes off of.
“Damn,” he muttered under his breath before quickly correcting himself. “I mean—you look… You look amazing. Like—really amazing.”
A soft smile curled at her lips. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
“Yeah?” he asked, subtly tugging at the edge of his shirt sleeve, trying to act casual.
She gave him a playful once-over. “The shirt, the sleeves—whoever styled you knew what they were doing.”
Sungho chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I had four guys yelling about sleeve length and masculinity, so I had no choice but to listen.”
(Y/n) laughed, easing into the familiarity between them. “Well, they did good. You look very… boyfriendy.”
His eyes flicked to hers, catching the teasing note in her voice but clinging to the word she used—boyfriendy. It wasn’t a declaration, but it felt like a hint, a little green light in this unfamiliar territory they were walking.
He offered his arm, just a little awkward but still charming. “Shall we?”
She looped her arm through his without hesitation. “We shall.”
As they walked down the hallway toward the stairs, (Y/n) glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her heart still fluttering. Maybe this whole dating-your-best-friend thing wasn’t going to be as strange as she thought.
In fact, it was already starting to feel pretty perfect.
As they arrived at the restaurant, (Y/n) stepped out of Sungho’s car and immediately blinked up at the grand building in front of her.
“What the… Sungho,” she said, looking from the glittering chandeliers visible through the wide windows to the uniformed valet who just opened the door for them. “When you said fancy, I didn’t know you meant this fancy.”
Sungho chuckled nervously, walking around to her side. “I wanted to treat you to something nice,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “figured we could celebrate surviving that exam in style.”
(Y/n) glanced down at herself, suddenly tugging at the hem of her dress. It was pretty, and she had felt confident earlier, but now she wasn’t so sure. The other women walking past them were in sleek gowns, heels clicking on marble tile, and their makeup looked professionally done.
Sensing her hesitation immediately, Sungho’s expression softened. “Hey.” He stepped closer, gently touching her hand. “You look stunning. Seriously.”
She gave a tight smile, still clearly unsure.
“No, no, come on—look at you,” he insisted, taking both her hands and giving her a playful but genuine twirl. (Y/n) let out a small, surprised laugh as he spun her, the skirt of her dress fanning slightly.
When she stopped, Sungho’s hands settled at her waist naturally, and hers—without thinking—landed on his shoulders.
“I mean,” he said, locking eyes with her, “if anyone in there doesn’t think you’re the most beautiful person in the room, they’re clearly wrong.”
She bit her bottom lip, trying not to smile too widely, but her eyes sparkled. “You’re too smooth sometimes, you know that?”
He grinned. “Only for you.”
The hostess greeted them and guided them to their table, which was tucked away near a wide window overlooking a garden lit up with fairy lights. The mood was soft and elegant, with the clinking of cutlery and quiet hum of string music in the background.
Dinner started with them talking about the exam. Sungho playfully groaned about the one essay question he knew he messed up, while (Y/n) admitted she completely blanked on a multiple-choice question that had seemed simple at first.
“I swear, my brain left my body for a minute,” she said, sipping from her wine glass.
“At least your soul came back in time,” Sungho laughed. “Mine’s probably still floating above campus, wondering why I didn’t just guess C like everyone else.”
They laughed together, their usual rhythm returning easily. But soon, the topic shifted to his upcoming soccer game.
Sungho leaned back slightly, swirling the ice in his water glass. “This next match… it’s a big one. The team we’re up against is brutal. Like, they’ve crushed almost everyone this season.”
(Y/n) leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. “Are you nervous?”
He hesitated. “A bit. I mean, we’ve trained for this, but still… it’s one of those games that scouts might really pay attention to. One wrong move and—” he stopped, exhaling through his nose. “It’s a lot.”
She reached across the table, brushing her fingers against his. “I get that. But if anyone’s gonna play their heart out, it’s you. And I’ll be right there cheering you on. Like always.”
His eyes softened as he looked at her. “That actually helps more than you think.”
She smiled. “Just remember—broad shoulders, big brain, golden retriever energy. You’ve got this.”
Sungho let out a laugh, his shoulders relaxing instantly. “You’re never gonna let that ‘broad shoulders’ comment go, are you?”
“Nope,” she teased, winking at him. “Especially now that I know you worked out for a year because of it.”
He flushed, mock groaning as he covered his face. “You’re evil.”
“You love it.”
And maybe he did. Maybe, sitting across from her in that moment, laughing over expensive food and candlelight, he loved everything about her—even the way she teased him mercilessly. Especially that.
Because tonight didn’t feel like just a date.
It felt like the start of something real.
~~~
As the night air wrapped around them in a gentle breeze, Sungho and (Y/n) exited the restaurant, both of them a little full, a little giddy, and quietly reluctant for the date to end. The soft click of (Y/n)’s heels echoed on the sidewalk as they walked toward his car, the occasional streetlamp casting golden light onto the pavement like little spotlights on an already magical night.
Sungho opened the passenger door for her, bowing slightly in exaggerated gentleman fashion. “Your carriage, milady.”
(Y/n) giggled and gave a small, joking curtsy before slipping into the car. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, you agreed to a second date with me,” he shot back with a grin, shutting her door.
The drive back to campus was filled with soft music and light conversation, both of them too content to speak much. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was warm, a kind of calm that only came when two people were fully at ease around each other.
When they finally pulled up outside her dorm, (Y/n) unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door, but Sungho was already out of his side, walking around to open it for her.
“You didn’t have to walk me to my door, you know,” she said with a small, amused sigh as they climbed the steps.
“I know,” Sungho said, hands tucked in his pockets, “but I wanted to. Plus, what kind of gentleman lets the prettiest girl on campus walk to her door alone?”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes but her cheeks turned pink under the glow of the porch light. She turned to face him, her hand already on the doorknob.
“Well… thank you,” she said softly.
Sungho gave her a warm smile, ready to say goodnight—but before he could, (Y/n) suddenly reached up on her toes, leaned in, and pressed a quick, featherlight kiss to his cheek.
His eyes widened.
Then—
“Goodnight,” she said in a rush, flashing a nervous smile before slipping into her room and gently shutting the door.
On the other side of the door, (Y/n) leaned back against it, clutching her chest as if to keep her heart from flying out. Oh my god, what did I just do? she thought, pressing her fingertips to her lips. Her heart was racing, but she couldn’t stop smiling.
Outside, Sungho stood completely still for a long moment.
Then he blinked. Then he grinned. Then he looked up at the sky like it had personally just given him a reason to believe in miracles.
He practically floated back to his car, whispering a low, “She kissed me—she actually kissed me.”
By the time he got back to the apartment, it was already buzzing. The door barely shut behind him before five pairs of eyes turned toward him like wolves smelling blood.
Jaehyun was the first to pounce. “SO?! Spill. Now. Don’t leave anything out.” “I swear to god if you don’t give us details I will cry,” Woonhak added dramatically from the couch, holding a throw pillow like a teddy bear. Riwoo leaned over the back of the couch with an intense gaze. “Did she laugh at your jokes? Was there a moment? How was her dress?!”
Leehan, already sitting cross-legged on the floor with a cup of tea, added calmly, “Please tell me there was a romantic rooftop moment or a slow dance. Don’t disappoint me.”
Taesan, the most composed as always, just raised an eyebrow. “You look like you just won the lottery. Something happened.” Sungho tried to be chill. He really did. But then he cracked and exploded into a grin. “She kissed me.”
A beat of silence.
And then—
All five of them screamed.
Not yelled. Screamed.
“OH MY GOD—ON THE LIPS?!”
“No, no,” Sungho said, laughing. “On the cheek.”
Cue five guys collapsing in various ways. Jaehyun fell off the couch. Woonhak screamed into a pillow. Riwoo looked like he was about to cry actual tears of joy. Leehan was gently nodding like a proud parent. Taesan gave a satisfied smirk, his version of a celebration.
“That’s even better,” Woonhak wailed. “It’s so pure! You’re living in a K-drama, bro!” “She kissed you goodnight,” Leehan said dreamily. “It’s the beginning of the end. In a good way.”
Sungho laughed, his cheeks still red, his heart still pounding. And as they all sat in the living room, grilling him for every last detail and squealing over the fact that their boy finally got a kiss—even if it was “just the cheek”—Sungho knew one thing for sure:
He was already falling even harder for the girl who made one little kiss feel like the best moment of his entire life.
~~~
The morning sun had barely risen above the campus rooftops when (Y/n) sent the message to Lily and Yujin:
Can we meet? I need to debrief. Urgent.
Within minutes, they had a plan—coffee shop at 10. By 10:01, (Y/n) was seated across from them at their usual table, clutching her drink like a lifeline, her knee bouncing under the table. She hadn’t even taken a sip yet when Lily leaned in with narrowed eyes. “Okay. Spill. Now.”
Yujin nodded, already stirring her iced americano like it was background music for the drama about to unfold. “You better not leave anything out.”
(Y/n) took a deep breath, then launched into it.
“I don’t even know where to begin, honestly,” she said, cheeks already heating. “I guess… the second I opened the door and saw him—he was in this black dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair styled, and just… wow. Like, jaw-on-the-floor, heart-skipped-a-beat kind of wow.” Lily and Yujin exchanged a look. The kind of look that said “we called this.”
“And then,” (Y/n) continued, “we get to the restaurant and it’s fancy-fancy. Like, actual linen napkins fancy. And I started to feel super underdressed but he immediately noticed and—ugh—he spun me around and said I looked stunning and like—he had his hands on my waist and everything.”
Lily clapped both hands over her mouth. “Are you telling me this man twirled you like a princess? We’re in act two of the romance novel already?!”
Yujin leaned in. “Tell me you kissed him. Please tell me you kissed him.” (Y/n) buried her face in her hands and groaned. “I kissed him. Just… on the cheek. Before I went into my dorm. I panicked. I literally kissed him and then RAN INSIDE like a coward.”
The girls squealed in unison.
“Oh my god, you gave him a drama kiss and a dramatic exit?!” Lily gasped. “Queen behavior.” “You kissed him!” Yujin beamed, her voice an octave higher. “You kissed him! Do you hear yourself right now?” (Y/n) peeked through her fingers. “It wasn’t a big deal…” “It was a HUGE deal,” Lily interrupted. “That wasn’t a ‘just friends’ kiss and you know it.”
“Right,” Yujin added, suddenly serious. “And the way you talk about him? You lit up when you described him in that shirt. You said he made you feel safe when you got insecure. That’s not just friendship anymore, babe.”
(Y/n) looked down at her drink, swirling it slowly. “I don’t know… I mean, maybe you’re right. Maybe I just needed time to see him that way. I didn’t even notice before. But last night felt… different. It felt like a date. It felt like I was on a date with someone I could maybe… love someday?”
The table went quiet for a beat, the weight of those words hanging softly in the air. Then Lily broke the silence with a teasing grin. “Sooo… third date is when you kiss him for real, right?” (Y/n) laughed, cheeks flushed. “Shut up.”
Yujin leaned back in her chair, smug. “All I’m saying is: it’s happening. You’re catching feelings. And honestly? It’s about time.” (Y/n) sipped her drink, smiling to herself. Maybe they were right. Maybe it was more than friendship. Maybe those butterflies in her stomach weren’t just nerves.
Maybe… she was falling for him.
~~~
The moment (Y/n) stepped into the store, she should’ve known she wouldn’t get out unnoticed. She spotted them near the snack aisle—Riwoo lazily pushing the cart while Woonhak practically bounced alongside him, scanning shelves with a mischievous glint in his eye. As soon as Woonhak spotted her, his entire face lit up.
“(Y/n)!!” he called out, his voice carrying through the store. “There she is!” She groaned playfully, half-hiding behind her basket. “Oh no…”
Too late. Woonhak was already trotting over, wide-eyed and grinning like a puppy. “I need your version of the date story,” he said without preamble. “Sungho told us everything but I want your side! For science.”
“You mean for gossip,” (Y/n) said, raising a brow. “Same thing,” Riwoo chimed in, coming to stand beside Woonhak with a smirk. “You know he won’t stop bothering you until you spill, right?”
(Y/n) crossed her arms. “I’m not telling you anything.” Woonhak’s face dropped into full-on puppy pout mode, bottom lip trembling in dramatics. “But (Y/n)… please? Pretty please? With extra kimchi on top?”
She groaned. “Ugh. You’re too powerful. Fine. One condition—lunch is on you.” Woonhak and Riwoo looked at each other and nodded. “Deal,” Riwoo said, pulling out his phone. “Actually, hang on—this deserves a bigger audience.” He sent a quick message into the group chat:
Sungho’s girl is about to drop tea. Come to the BBQ spot. Now.
By the time they got to the restaurant, Taesan and Jaehyun were already there, drinks in hand, smirks already forming. They barely even said hi before Jaehyun leaned over the table.
“Alright, (Y/n), hit us. Start from the top. I want cinematic detail.” Woonhak leaned his elbows on the table, eyes shining. “Tell us about the moment you opened the door and saw him.”
(Y/n) sighed but couldn’t help smiling. “Okay, fine. So he knocks at exactly 6:45—because of course he’s on time—and when I open the door, there he is. Black dress shirt. Sleeves rolled up. Hair perfect. Looking like a boyfriend from a drama.”
The boys all groaned and leaned back like they were being fed actual candy. “See?” Woonhak whispered to Jaehyun. “Told you she’d say ‘boyfriend.’”
(Y/n) tossed a napkin at him but kept going, telling the story exactly like she had with Lily and Yujin—about how he made her feel beautiful when she doubted herself, how dinner was both comforting and romantic, and then of course… the kiss.
“And then I kissed him. On the cheek. And ran away.”
There was a beat of silence before Jaehyun broke into laughter. “You kissed him and then ran? Classic rom-com energy.” “You really kissed him and dipped?!” Riwoo shook his head. “That’s cold, (Y/n).” “She panicked,” Woonhak defended, laughing anyway. “It’s cute.”
(Y/n) rolled her eyes but laughed with them. “I know, I know. It was dumb.” “No,” Taesan said with a small smile, “It was you. That’s why he probably loved it.” That shut them up for a second. Then Riwoo leaned forward again, more serious now.
“Can I say something? And I mean this in the nicest way,” he said. “Sungho… really likes you. And he wants to show it. But he’s holding back, because he’s not sure how much space he has. So if you’re comfortable, you’re kinda the one who has to show him it’s okay to… I dunno, touch you more? Be open.”
The others nodded in agreement, softer now. “He’s dying to be the boyfriend,” Jaehyun added. “But only if you’re cool with it.”
“I know you’ve been trying to figure out what you’re feeling,” Woonhak said. “But just so you know, he’s already all in. And you’re safe with him. Always.” (Y/n) sat back in her chair, a bit stunned by how genuine the teasing had turned. She looked at each of them and nodded slowly.
“Thanks,” she said, quietly. “I really appreciate you guys.” “You’re basically already part of the family,” Taesan said simply. “We’ve all kind of accepted that.” “Yeah,” Riwoo grinned. “Now you just gotta start acting like it.” Woonhak raised his drink. “To Sungho’s girl!”
(Y/n) groaned but clinked her glass with his anyway, heart warm and smile wide. Maybe this was what falling for someone was supposed to feel like.
Safe. Easy. Supported.
~~~
The tension in the locker room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Sungho paced from one side to the other, chewing at the inside of his cheek, occasionally stopping to retie his cleats for the third time in fifteen minutes. His teammates watched with amusement and secondhand stress.
“Bro,” Jaehyun finally said, half-laughing as he lounged on a bench, “if you walk across that floor one more time, you’re gonna dig yourself a tunnel straight through to China.” Sungho just shot him a look but kept pacing.
“He’s gonna explode,” Riwoo muttered to Woonhak.
Just then, a soft knock came from the door. Everyone paused. Leehan, closest to the entrance, stood up and opened it, eyebrows lifting in surprise when he saw who it was. “Oh—uh, yeah. One sec.”
He stepped aside, revealing (Y/n), her eyes lighting up as soon as she spotted Sungho. She looked a little nervous too, but the smile on her face said she came with purpose.
“Can I borrow him for a minute?” she asked sweetly, glancing around at the boys who were already grinning. Sungho blinked, stunned for a second, then practically stumbled toward her. The moment he stepped outside the dressing room and the door closed behind him, he saw it—his jersey on her again, oversized and falling just right, and in her hands, a handmade sign that read:
“Go, Sungho!”
The letters were bold, decorated with little soccer balls and stars, and his name stood out like it was glowing.
His heart nearly stopped. “You wore my jersey again…” he said, his voice a little breathless. (Y/n) gave him a small, knowing smile. “Of course. It’s game day. Plus, I think it brings you luck.” “And the sign…” He looked down at it, then back at her with a blush creeping up his cheeks. “You made this?” She nodded. “Wanted to remind you that I’m cheering you on. Always.”
That did it. His nerves didn’t disappear, but they settled. Like her words had tied them into a knot and tucked them away somewhere safer. He felt like he could breathe again.
“Thank you,” he said, softer than usual, eyes not leaving hers. “Really.” “Now go win this,” she said, bumping his shoulder lightly. “You’ve got this, Sungho.” He grinned. For the first time all day.
Back in the game, it was like something switched on in him. The match was brutal—fast, competitive, full of shoulder checks and close calls. The score stayed tied nearly the entire time, both teams relentless. But Sungho pushed himself harder than ever, his mind flashing back to her voice, her smile, her jersey hugging her frame, the sign in her hands.
And then it happened. Final minutes of the game, one perfect pass, a clean break—and Sungho scored.
The stadium erupted.
He turned in disbelief, arms lifted, just in time to see (Y/n) sprinting toward the field from the stands, her sign forgotten behind her. She didn’t slow down, and he caught her effortlessly as she jumped into his arms. The cheer from the team only grew louder when she kissed his cheek again, this time lingering just a little longer, her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.
“You did it!” she shouted, laughing in his ear.
He held her close, completely breathless—though now, not from the game. If this was what winning felt like, he never wanted to lose again.
~~~
Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the skyline and golden hour bathed the city, the group was buzzing with excitement. The team wanted to celebrate, and not just with snacks in their dorm or a quiet movie night. This win was big, and they wanted to go all out.
“Okay, hear me out,” Woonhak said, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as everyone sat crowded in the common room. “What if… we go to that new club that opened near campus? You know, the one with the rooftop bar and light-up dance floor?”
“Didn’t someone say it was hard to get into?” Jaehyun asked, already pulling up the club’s page on his phone.
“Not if you show up with a whole soccer team fresh off a win,” Riwoo grinned, nudging Sungho. “Star striker’s got some pull.”
Sungho just shook his head, still riding the high from the game, his cheeks pink from the attention. His eyes flicked over to (Y/n), sitting cross-legged on the floor, sipping a smoothie Lily had brought over earlier. She caught his glance, raised an eyebrow, and gave him a playful, questioning look.
“You in?” he asked her quietly, but she heard him over the noise. “If you are,” she smiled. And that was that.
The club was alive with music that vibrated through the floor, the kind that made your heartbeat sync to the bass. Neon lights flickered across the crowd as they moved and danced like waves in the ocean. The rooftop air was cool but not cold, and the energy of victory hung in the air like a buzz of electricity.
Sungho wasn’t usually the type to dance much, but tonight was different. Maybe it was the win, maybe it was the music—or maybe it was (Y/n), who grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the dance floor with a grin that made his knees weak.
They swayed, they laughed, they got bumped into by strangers and didn’t even care. Sungho twirled her once, twice, then pulled her back into his chest, his arms around her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her hands found his shoulders, and their eyes met—both of them smiling too much to speak.
“You’re actually pretty good at this,” (Y/n) shouted over the music, teasing. “Only when I’ve got the right partner,” he shot back, making her laugh as she bumped her forehead gently against his.
At one point, he leaned in and asked if she wanted a drink, and she nodded. He disappeared into the crowd while she stayed near the edge of the dance floor, swaying slightly to the beat, hair sticking slightly to her forehead from the heat of the club.
That’s when he showed up. Tall, confident, and with the kind of cocky smirk she used to find attractive.
“Hey there,” the guy said, sliding up beside her. “You look like you’re having a good time. Want some company?” (Y/n) blinked. “I’m here with someone.” He smirked. “He’s not around now.” She turned a bit away. “Still not interested.”
“C’mon, just one dance—” “I said no, thanks.” Her voice was firmer this time, but he didn’t back off. The guy leaned in closer. “What, you got a boyfriend or something?” “Yes, actually,” she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. “I do.” He raised an eyebrow. “Where’s he at then?”
Right on cue, Sungho reappeared—two drinks in hand, confusion turning to immediate tension as he saw the guy too close to (Y/n), her posture defensive.
Without missing a beat, he handed (Y/n) her drink, then stepped in beside her, placing a casual but unmistakable arm around her shoulders.
“Problem?” Sungho asked, voice calm but edged in steel. The guy looked between them, clearly sizing Sungho up, but seeing no room left to push. “No problem,” he muttered, backing away into the crowd.
(Y/n) let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Sungho turned to her, brows knit with concern. “You okay?” “Yeah,” she nodded, taking a sip of her drink. “Thanks for that.”
His hand stayed on her shoulder for a moment longer before slowly dropping. They didn’t say anything about the “boyfriend” comment, didn’t bring it up—not here, not now. Instead, Sungho gave her a small smile and gestured toward the dance floor.
“Wanna go back out there?” She smiled back. “Yeah.” So they did.
This time, they danced slower. Closer. Her head eventually rested against his shoulder, and his arms wrapped tighter around her waist. Neither of them said a word, and they didn’t have to.
For now, the music spoke loud enough.
As the night wound down and the club started to empty, the energy finally began to settle. The team’s win had been celebrated in full—dancing, drinks, more dancing, and lots of laughter. (Y/n) was leaning into Sungho a little more with every step as they made their way out of the club, her eyes glassy and cheeks flushed from the mix of alcohol, adrenaline, and lingering joy.
“I’m not drunk,” she mumbled, clearly drunk, clutching his arm as they stepped onto the sidewalk, the cool night air brushing against her skin. “Just a little tipsy.”
Sungho looked down at her, amused. “Right. A little tipsy.”
“I can walk straight,” she added proudly, then immediately tripped on the edge of the sidewalk, only staying upright because Sungho caught her.
“Sure you can.” He tightened his grip around her shoulders gently, nodding toward the rest of the guys. “C’mon, let’s all go back to the apartment. It’s late.”
She didn’t protest—in fact, she barely registered what he said. Instead, she just stared at him like he was the most fascinating thing in the world, her fingers absentmindedly brushing through the hair at the nape of his neck, her nails gently grazing his skin. Sungho froze for a second, his entire body tensing at the unexpected, feather-light touch. Then he let out a quiet laugh, both flustered and fond.
“You okay there?” he asked softly, his voice low just for her. (Y/n) nodded slowly. “You have really nice hair.”
Sungho laughed again, shaking his head, and helped her into the backseat of the car while the others piled in around them, all of them pretending not to notice the way (Y/n) rested her head against Sungho’s shoulder with a content sigh.
Once they got back to the apartment, Sungho helped her out of the car and up the stairs, letting her lean on him the whole way. The others walked ahead, still joking and rehashing moments from the night, but Sungho stayed slow and steady, matching (Y/n)’s pace.
As they reached the apartment, she looked up at him with sleepy eyes and mumbled, “You take such good care of me…” He smiled at her, hand brushing her back lightly as he opened the door. “Always.” And he meant it.
Once everyone was home and safe, Sungho made sure (Y/n) had water, helped her change into one of his hoodies, and guided her to his bed while he grabbed a blanket and pillow for himself. She tried to argue that he didn’t have to sleep on the couch, but her words slurred together halfway through the sentence.
He just shook his head with a soft grin. “Let’s not make drunk decisions tonight, okay?” “Okay…” she whispered, already half-asleep. “But you’re really warm…” Sungho stayed by her side for a moment longer, watching her eyes flutter closed and her breathing even out before whispering, “Goodnight, (Y/n).” And even though she didn’t hear him, he smiled anyway, heart full, before quietly stepping out to let her rest.
~~~
The soft aroma of eggs, toast, and something slightly sweet pulled (Y/n) from sleep like a gentle hand. She blinked her eyes open, a little surprised by how good she felt—no headache, no nausea. Just warmth, comfort… and the unmistakable scent of breakfast.
Still half-asleep, she padded out of Sungho’s room, rubbing one eye lazily with the sleeve of the oversized hoodie she wore. It reached mid-thigh, warm and soft, smelling just like him. What she didn’t realize, however, was that at some point during the night, she had wriggled out of her pants and never put them back on.
Sungho was at the stove, humming to himself as he flipped eggs with practiced ease, the sunlight casting soft golden streaks through the window. When he heard the shuffle of footsteps, he turned with a casual smile—only for his jaw to immediately drop.
He nearly dropped the entire pan.
“(Y/n)!” he hissed, darting across the room in a panic. She blinked up at him, confused. “Huh? What?” “You—you’re not wearing pants!” he whisper-yelled, frantically trying to shield her with his body in case any of the guys decided to emerge from their rooms. (Y/n)’s eyes went wide as she looked down at herself. “Oh my god,” she gasped, face instantly heating up. “I—I must’ve taken them off in my sleep—!”
“Yeah, clearly,” Sungho muttered, already ushering her back toward his room, his hands hovering awkwardly like he didn’t know where to touch. “C’mon, before someone else sees—” Once safely back inside, (Y/n) practically dove onto the bed, burying her face into a pillow while groaning. “Kill me now. Seriously.” Sungho leaned against the door with a dramatic sigh of relief, a hand over his heart. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
She peeked at him from under the pillow, her face still flushed. “Thanks for not letting me traumatize your entire apartment.” He gave her a sheepish grin, “Anytime. Though… you looked really cute.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t even.” “No, I mean it!” He laughed, raising his hands. “Just… please never wear that exact outfit in front of the others. Or I might have to throw hands.”
She rolled her eyes playfully. “Possessive much?” “Maybe,” he said with a shrug, smiling softly. “But only a little.” (Y/n) sat up slowly, now tugging the hoodie down over her legs with a sheepish grin of her own. “Noted. No pants outside of this room.” Sungho chuckled and gave her a wink. “Unless it’s just us. Then… I won’t complain.”
She threw a pillow at him, which he dodged effortlessly before turning back toward the door. “Anyway, breakfast is almost ready. Come out when you’ve got pants on, alright?” “Yeah, yeah,” she called after him with a laugh, heart fluttering just a little from the teasing. Somehow, it was becoming easier and easier to imagine what life with Sungho would feel like. And surprisingly… it felt like home.
The kitchen was filled with the low hum of sleepy conversation and the delicious aroma of breakfast—eggs sizzling, toast popping, and the faint sweetness of cut fruit. Sungho stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with an ease that came only when he was in a good mood, which, as the others had learned, usually meant (Y/n) was around.
(Y/n) sat at the table beside Taesan, dressed casually in the hoodie she’d “borrowed” from Sungho, her hair slightly messy but her face glowing in the soft morning light. Jaehyun and Woonhak looked half-alive, both slouched over their plates, eyes squinting as if the sunlight itself was attacking them. Riwoo and Leehan were quiet but content, grateful for the food and the peaceful atmosphere.
“Mmm,” Woonhak hummed, taking a bite of pancake. “Sungho, you really went all out.” “It’s because (Y/n)’s here,” Jaehyun said, rubbing his temples. “He thinks we don’t notice, but every time she’s around, we get like, five-star meals.” Sungho rolled his eyes but said nothing, hiding his smile behind the steam rising from the stove. (Y/n) laughed, nudging her plate toward him when he passed by. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Just then, Taesan, who had been quietly eating and observing like always, set his fork down and looked up at her. “So,” he said casually, “have you thought any more about moving in?” (Y/n) blinked, caught mid-sip of her juice. “Again with this?” “Well, yeah,” Riwoo chimed in. “We already talked about it, but you didn’t say no.” “You basically live here anyway,” Woonhak said, lifting his head with effort. “Your toothbrush has a spot now.”
“She even has snacks in the pantry,” Jaehyun added. “That’s like… next-level unofficial roommate behavior.” (Y/n) looked around the table at all of them, a mix of amused and a little flustered. Her eyes flicked to Sungho, who was setting another plate on the table, but not saying anything yet. He was letting the others talk, but she could tell he was listening carefully.
“I mean…” she began slowly, “I’ve been thinking about it. A little.” “That’s not a no,” Leehan pointed out with a smirk. Taesan leaned back in his chair. “It would just make sense. You’re here most nights anyway, and we all like having you around. Plus, Sungho stops whining about cooking when you’re here.”
Sungho scoffed. “I do not whine.” “You literally threatened to throw away the rice cooker last week,” Riwoo said, sipping from his coffee. “Because someone forgot to clean it.” “Okay, that’s fair,” Sungho muttered. (Y/n) laughed softly, playing with the edge of her napkin. “You guys are really trying to recruit me, huh?”
“It’s not recruiting,” Jaehyun said. “It’s just us making a very logical, very heartfelt case for why this would be the best idea ever.” Sungho finally spoke, his voice quieter but genuine. “Only if you want to, though. No pressure.” (Y/n) looked over at him, meeting his eyes. There was that soft, warm gaze he always gave her lately — the one that made her heart skip just a little. She smiled, nodding slightly.
“I’ll think about it more seriously this time,” she said. “Yesss!” Woonhak cheered with what little energy he had, lifting a piece of toast in victory. “To manifesting it into reality,” Jaehyun repeated, raising his juice glass like a toast. Sungho chuckled as he sat beside her, his knee brushing hers under the table. “No pressure,” he repeated quietly, just for her. (Y/n) bumped his shoulder playfully, her voice equally soft. “I know. But… it’s starting to feel like home anyway.”
~~~
The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the quiet path as (Y/n) and Sungho strolled along, fingers laced comfortably between them. There was an easy rhythm to their walk, their shoulders brushing every now and then as they recapped the night before—laughing over Jaehyun’s terrible dance moves, how Woonhak managed to charm a group of strangers into singing with him, and how somehow, miraculously, no one lost anything or anyone.
Then, Sungho’s tone shifted slightly, softening, almost hesitant. “Hey,” he said, squeezing her hand a little, “I, uh… I wanted to ask you something. From last night.” (Y/n) glanced up at him, brows raised curiously. “Yeah?” “Well…” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “When that guy wouldn’t leave you alone, I overheard you say you had a boyfriend. I just… was that to get him to back off, or… did you mean it?”
(Y/n) blinked, surprised. She hadn’t even thought about it when she said it—her mouth had spoken before her mind caught up. She stopped walking, tugging lightly on his hand to make him stop too. Sungho turned to face her, his expression unreadable but hopeful, his eyes searching hers.
“I didn’t even think about it,” she said softly. “It just came out… like second nature.” She paused, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Which probably means… yeah. I meant it.” Sungho stared at her, his eyes widening just a little. “I have a boyfriend,” she continued, a bit more surely now, “and his name is Park Sungho.” It was like the words lit a fire inside him.
He dropped her hand suddenly and spun away, letting out a half-laugh, half-shout of pure joy as he ran in a little circle, throwing his arms up in the air. “YESSS! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!” he yelled into the open sky, grinning like an idiot. A couple walking past gave him a strange look, but he didn’t care—he couldn’t have cared less.
Then, with a burst of energy, he rushed back to her, stopping only when he was right in front of her, breathless and giddy. He cupped her cheeks gently, eyes locked with hers. “Say it again,” he whispered, like he wanted to hear it one more time just to believe it. (Y/n) laughed, cheeks warming under his hands. “You’re my boyfriend, Park Sungho.”
And with that, he leaned in and kissed her—softly, surely, and completely. Their first real kiss, right there in the middle of the sidewalk, under the warm sunlight and with the world still spinning around them, but for a moment, all either of them could feel was each other.
They stood there for a moment, forehead to forehead, breathing in each other’s laughter and leftover nerves, hearts pounding and lips tingling. (Y/n) was still reeling—how was it possible that Sungho was that good of a kisser? She looked at him, dazed and completely smitten, and he was looking at her the exact same way. It was like the world had quieted around them, just for a bit, to let them live in this new moment.
And then they kissed again. And again. And again—each one a little more confident, a little more full of unspoken promises.
Sungho was the one to finally pull back, just slightly, his thumb brushing against her cheek as he looked into her eyes. His voice was soft, but hopeful. “So… I know the guys already asked you once. Twice, actually,” he said with a small chuckle, “but I’m asking you now… for real. As your boyfriend. Will you move in with us?” He paused, eyes gentle. “With me?”
(Y/n) gave him a mock-serious look, pressing her finger to her lips as if deep in thought. “Hmm… I don’t know. I mean, I do like having my own space… and I’d have to deal with six loud boys every single day…” She glanced at him playfully. “Sounds exhausting.” Sungho raised his eyebrows, pretending to look scandalized. “Wow. Harsh.” She giggled, then leaned in close, her lips brushing his once more as she whispered, “…But I’d do it. I’ll move in.”
And then she kissed him again, her arms sliding around his neck as he wrapped his around her waist, lifting her just slightly off the ground as he spun her once, completely overwhelmed with happiness. “You’re seriously going to be the death of me,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. (Y/n) smiled back, her nose brushing his. “Yeah, but what a way to go.”
familiarity (it’s all sticky) — myung jaehyun
peter parker!jaehyun x spiderman!reader
wc — 4k genre & warnings — exes (to sort of lovers?), angst, touch of fluff, ghost-spider au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), discussions of wounds and depictions of blood, reader’s hair is long enough to be tucked behind their ear, mentions of non-sexual stripping and showering playlist — nonviolent communication by metro boomin, james blake, a$ap rocky, & 21 savage // hummingbird by metro boomin & james blake notes — spidermyung save me... (sunwoo & dk vers) thank u again to cat for betareading the og ver like always <3 posting this because i have another spidermyung fic in the works anyway <3 if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog & leave feedback! request to be part of the taglist! masterlist
synopsis — you’re not sure why you decide to show up at your ex’s place all wounded up from tonight’s battle.
new york city never falls silent. the bustle of every new yorker can be heard through their footsteps, the wheels that glide against the train tracks along with the beeps of taxis sound throughout the city. the metropolis stays alive in every street, every alleyway, every corner. no matter what hour it may be, each pavement is wide awake.
but the lights seem hazy tonight; the luminescence pours out of every building, the led boards are only blurs of silhouettes and illegible words. normally, you would warn against going out if someone could barely make sense of what these signs say, but you never seem to follow your own advice.
as you swing through the city, web clinging onto every building, blood continues to seep through the white spandex that covers you from head to toe. your body feels heavy, the pain in your lower abdomen continuing to spike with every movement—every swing—you make.
you bite on your lip, holding back the whimpers. your eyes dart through every street sign you pass. with every swing, you realize you’re nowhere close to where you should be. instead…
you don’t allow yourself to think it over. maybe the loss of blood has you moving out of impulse, but for now, you can only think of getting rid of the pain.
you swing around the corner before landing down at the familiar fire escape, paint-chipped and rusted just like you remember. a hiss leaves your mouth as your hand reaches out to the spot where the blood continues to seep through, holding it down to keep pressure on the wound.
you’re face-to-face with the window; the reflection of you all suited up in some persona is a sight you’re accustomed to—but not on the glass of his window. you’re not sure why you came back here, injured in an identity he only knew of through word of mouth.
but the throbbing in your abdomen doesn’t give you enough time to think more about it. pushing the window up, you throw one leg over the edge into the apartment. your eyes quickly scan through the familiar space—a room you once treated as yours.
pillows scattered and bedsheets wrinkled, the walls are littered with the same posters of comics he swears to be the best of all time, along with his desk, littered with trinkets you haven’t seen since the day you left him—ones that he talked about to you back then with so much joy.
as you attempt to get your other leg over the edge of the window, you yelp at the sharp pain that strikes. “fuck,” you whimper, gasping out a breath. another groan rips out from your throat as you force your leg over, head resting on the frame with closed eyes, bracing yourself through the wave of pain that follows.
as pants continue to leave your mouth, your senses tingle as your ears catch the sound of footsteps on the other side of the room. you attempt to stand up only for another groan to leave your lips, and you realize it’s too late—the door creaks open, revealing the man you haven’t been face-to-face with since you said your farewell months ago.
dressed in an oversized white tee and a pair of black shorts, jaehyun stands with a bag of chips in his hand and disheveled hair, eyes wide and gaping. you can only assume he was fresh from bed.
“s-spiderman?!” he looks around, noticing the mess that you’re being exposed to. before you can register it, he rushes in, dropping the bag of chips somewhere near the doorway, and tries to tidy his bed. “w-what are you doing here? i think you might’ve entered the wrong room,” he stutters as he attempts to fix his pillows and bedsheets (poorly, if you may say).
somehow, the sight of jaehyun all frazzled makes you smile behind your mask. the idea of your—no, you mean, this guy all worried about you seeing how untidy he lives makes you chuckle.
but as you laugh, pain shoots through your lower abdomen once more. you cough out before hissing, pressing onto the wound. it takes everything in you to keep your body upright until you feel a pair of hands rest on your shoulders. you look up only to be met with his worried expression.
and you spot the way his eyes trail down to where your hand rests. you’re thankful that the mask could hide the heat that rises to your cheeks.
“oh god, you need that treated,” jaehyun’s eyes snap back up to you, and your breath hitches. even after all these months, he still holds stars in his eyes.
it’s been a while since you last saw him up close. the bags on his under eyes have turned a few shades darker, and you notice an eyelash that rests on his cheek. you don’t think about what you do next, your free hand reaching out to his face, and his breath hitches. once you pick it out, you flick the strand off of your fingers, and that’s when you realize the mistake you committed.
“s-sorry,” you choke out. although you try to keep your voice as low and gruntled as possible, he frowns. he bites the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicker between your masked face and the wound.
“i-i don’t know how to help. i can call for an ambulan—”
you grab onto his arm before he can leave. as you shake your head, he gulps. “i can’t really help you,” he says, but your grip doesn’t falter. with that, he lets out a sigh before kneeling in front of you. his hands find themselves on the ledge, his arms now caging your frail figure. “do you have someone in mind who can help you?”
jaehyun’s question is innocent. you’re sure the last thing he meant was to mock your situation—showing up in a “stranger’s” room unannounced—but it strikes a chord in you.
you haven’t spoken to him since you broke up a few months back. when you’re outside of your suit, you avoid him like the plague. in the hallways of campus, you take any possible route to not cross his. but when you’re covered in your second skin, you find yourself on top of buildings watching him from far away. with the distance, you allow yourself to learn about what he’s been up to since you two last spoke.
so you don’t know why you sit in front of him all injured and dressed up in white, black, and pink spandex, because you haven’t spoken to him since that day. shame bubbles within you all while reality slowly slips from your fingertips. and the way your body gets heavier with every second that passes has him mumbling profanities.
his hands hold onto you as he makes you lean your weight on the frame of the window. “wait,” he says as he stands up and walks into his bathroom. before you know it, he comes out with a box.
jaehyun finds his spot back in front of you and he opens what he retrieved. as he looks through the supplies of bandages, alcohol, gauze, and more, he says as his eyes flicker up towards you, “i don’t know how much this will help but it’ll do for now.”
and you should be thankful that someone is willing to bandage you up after the rough night you’ve had, but it feels like a lie to have jaehyun be the one to do it, especially when you haven’t told him the truth.
so when he grabs onto the supplies he needs to treat your wound, your free hand reaches for the underside of your mask. his eyes follow where it rests, and he freezes in his tracks. your fingertips curl on the fabric as you take a deep breath.
“you don’t—”
you shake your head, cutting him off, and you close your eyes before pulling off the mask.
you’re afraid to look at the boy kneeling in front of you, for you can only imagine the annoyance—the disgust—that will paint his features. it’s not like you had a choice to show up at his fire escape this one night, but it was your choice to reveal who spiderman really is behind the mask.
a beat passes.
you’re not sure what to do at this moment. what are you supposed to do after a vigilante reveals who they are?
but when you open your eyes, jaehyun looks back at you with an emotion you can’t pinpoint. he averts his eyes, trailing down to your wound. “let me see it,” he whispers.
you gulp, an attempt to clear your throat and thoughts, before letting your hand move away from the puncture. your hand grips the hem of the top of your suit, peeling it upwards to reveal a bloody wound. from the sight, it looks like you were stabbed, but it’s only a deep cut.
he pulls out a piece of cloth, reaching out and pressing it to your wound. you yelp, eyes squeezing shut at the contact. “i’m sorry, but we need to stop the bleeding a bit more.” it takes everything in you to open your eyes. you’re met with the sight of jaehyun whose face holds a thousand emotions—you can’t identify any of them.
“can you keep pressure on it?” you only nod before you remove your gloves, afraid to touch the wound with fabric covered in grime. you dump your mask and gloves on the space beside you before letting your hand reach to where the cloth is held against. your hand brushes against his for a split second—you retract your hand immediately at the contact with his skin.
at the sudden motion, the cloth against your stomach drops with nothing left to hold it. jaehyun curses in a panic, hand shooting out in an attempt to save it, but you react faster. snatching it mid-fall, you grasp it tightly, placing the cloth back onto your wound. his eyes dart between where your hand rests and your face, a twinge of worry cast on his features, but he doesn’t give you an opportunity to say anything as he stands up quickly and walks back to his bathroom.
you hear the water run for a moment. the noises of the street fill your ears. the lights from outside cascade the floor, hues of yellow and purple filling the room. and then thunder rumbles; it shakes the floorboards. the sounds of raindrops follow, and you feel your back start to get wet from the storm that has entered new york city.
you try to push yourself off the ledge, a groan ripping out of your throat once more. and you’re finally on your feet. but at any moment, it feels like you may collapse.
“wait, wait! what are you doing?” jaehyun exclaims as he rushes out of the bathroom. he quickly grabs hold of you in an attempt to keep you steady. “don’t stand up or that wound might get worse.”
“i-it’s just the rain. i don’t want to leave the window open.” as you turn your torso, another spike strikes where your wound is. the yelp that leaves your mouth has jaehyun grip onto your arm tighter.
“no, just sit. i’ll take care of it,” he says as he brings you to his chair, his hand never leaves your arm. you let out a hiss until your bottom meets the cushion. as soon as your back rests on the chair, you close your eyes for a moment from the pain.
his hand leaves you. you hear the window shut; the car horns and barks from stray animals are now muffled.
when your eyes flutter open, jaehyun crouches in front of you with a wet towel in his hand. “i need to clean it.” you only nod before removing the cloth on your wound. he grabs it from you and places it on his lap.
as he raises the wet towel to your wound, you flinch at the contact. he quickly retracts it and asks, “does it hurt?”
“no, it’s just cold,” you mumble back. he only nods before attempting to clean the area around your wound. while he keeps his eyes on the puncture, your eyes remain on his face; hues of yellow cast upon him.
his skin glows under the city lights—did anyone know about the stars you once carved on it?
“is this why we broke up?” his eyes snap toward yours as he asks that question.
you cannot help but bite the inside of your cheek. “y-yeah,” you choke out.
he hums before his eyes go back down to your injury. “i’m guessing this is why you were distant then, right?”
you don’t bother to speak, letting the silence speak for itself.
he removes the wet towel; the white cloth is covered in patches of red. as he crumples it into a ball, you spot that his white shirt holds splotches of blood as well.
jaehyun stands up to drop the pieces of fabric on the table behind you. “your dad obviously doesn’t know,” he mutters to himself.
it’s a rhetorical question. of course, your father has no clue of your late-night rendezvous. you’re sure he could never look at you the same if he found out because to him, he would never understand what you do. he would see you only as a low-life criminal in the same way the nypd does.
jaehyun then dabs a cotton ball soaked in betadine on your abdomen. you bite on your lip as a hiss leaves your mouth. “fuck,” you curse, and he only continues to clean up your wound.
jaehyun takes over you two. as he bandages you up, you allow yourself to close your eyes. you were thankful to find rest in these small moments. but you don’t miss the warmth of his fingertips on your skin; they feel just like last time.
“why did you come here?” his question has your eyes snapping open, and you are met with a frown resting on his face.
you bite the inside of your cheek. “i-i don’t know.” it’s a lie—one you both know. you had every chance to change the route you were taking. instead, you chose to go to his place—even if it may be on the other side of where you live.
he lets out a sigh. it’s clear that he’s disappointed by your words, but all he says is “okay,” as he gets up. “you can stay here for the night.” he stands in front of you in a shirt covered in patches of blood—it’s proof that his heart still holds a spot for you.
despite the venom that was laced in your words the night you cut ties with him, he leaves you a space for you to fill. it’s another choice you can make, but one you’re not sure if you should take.
jaehyun walks to the desk behind you and flips the lamp on. you swivel the chair so that you’re face-to-face with his slouched figure. you would’ve scolded him, but you’re not in the place to do so—not after what you two had.
but a part of you wishes to chide those words—hey, keep slouching and your back will get worse—for old time’s sake. it takes everything in you to hold back from saying the reminder, but it takes nothing to let your hand grip the back of his shirt. his movements halt.
as you sit up, you let your face bury into the arch of his back. the scent of his laundry detergent (it’s still the same smell of lavender) fills your nose, and you let your hands trail around his torso until they find their home on his waist. even after all these months, your hands knew where to rest—your spidey senses knew who to go to.
you feel his hands rest on your arms, his thumb drawing circles on your forearm. you breathe at the same pace as him. whenever his shoulders move up, yours follow. and you allow yourself to cherish just this once the familiar warmth of jaehyun. you let your soul mesh with his once more.
with closed eyes, you whisper, “i still look for you.” his thumb stops moving, and a shaky breath leaves your mouth. “i’m here because all i know is you.”
it’s half of a lie, but still a lie nevertheless. you shake your head against his shirt. “no,” you rescind. “i know i shouldn’t be here, and i had every chance to go back home, but,” you take a deep breath. “would you let me, just this once, be honest with you?”
your question hangs in the air—it’s not for him but for you. all the choices you took led to this moment, from embracing the persona you were handed through a single spider bite all the way to removing the mask in front of him.
jaehyun spins to face you. he stands in front of you with the remnants of you covering him, his shirt coated in hues of red and your blood dried up on his hands. the light behind him causes a shadow to paint his face.
but when he kneels once more in front of you, you get a good look at his features. he still looks like the same boy you first met—the same one you fell in love with—but you wonder if he was still the one you knew?
that is until his hand reaches toward your face. you hold your breath as it finds its spot on your cheek. but as his thumb grazes your cheekbone, a trembling breath leaves you. you gulp everything down—your fears and anxieties—so that you can finally be honest with jaehyun.
“i wanted to tell you who i really am.” a flicker of confusion flashes through his eyes. “and i know i’m not doing it in the best state,” a chuckle leaves your mouth. “but with every day that passes, and every injury i need to endure, i didn’t know when i would be able to tell you what went wrong with us.” a beat passes. “what went wrong with me.”
he shakes his head. “nothing’s wrong with you. what are you talking about?” a frown takes over his face. “i mean, you’re spiderman, for god’s sake.” you weren’t able to hold back the giggle that slipped from your lips.
but it wouldn’t be fair to just accept his words as is, not after the damage you’ve caused.
you let a hand rest on his, the one that rests on your cheek, and you curl your fingers so that you hold it. “i’m sorry that this is me.” the whisper is loud enough to fill the silence of his room. “i’m sorry that i crashed here all injured and left you to deal with the mess,” your eyes flicker to his bed. “especially on a night when you were resting.”
as soon as your eyes go back to jaehyun, you notice that he’s biting the inside of his cheek. “why are you telling me this?” it’s an honest question, one he couldn’t figure out the answer to. “we haven’t seen each other since you broke up with me.”
and he has every right to be confused with your sudden appearance. after all the months spent avoiding him in the halls while still seeking him on top of buildings, jaehyun was left with no clue as to why you come to him first in such a dire situation. why is it that you chose to reveal such an intimate part of yourself months after you two have drifted?
“do i have to say it?” you ask.
and he looks back into your eyes before saying, “it’s the least you can do.”
so you grab onto his hand, moving it so that it rests in yours. the sight of his fingers and palms covered in splotches of you fills your heart with warmth. it’s proof of the time he spent to patch you up. no matter who you may be—spiderman or not—you will forever be at his mercy.
“we can’t be together. it will only be another cycle of pain.” for both of you. as your eyes land back on his face, you spot sorrow coating his features.
“but i still do.” it’s an unfinished thought on his end. despite the frown you show, all he does is flash you a bitter smile. “i always have and always will.”
and it clicks.
“n-no, jaehyun,” you shake your head. “you can’t.”
he brings your hand close to his lips, letting it linger for a moment. “but you do,” he whispers into your fingertips. “right?”
even after revealing who spiderman truly is behind the mask, you expect jaehyun to rethink everything he knows. the months spent away from you should be enough reason to reconsider how much he knows of you now. but even if you two were to spend years apart, he would still read you as well as he does now.
“i can’t,” you choke out. “i can only offer so much, and you deserve so much more.”
he smiles at you—the same one you used to see every day, no matter what time of the day it may be—as his free hand reaches for your hair, tucking it behind your ear.
“i couldn’t care any less.”
you shake your head. it’s clear he doesn’t understand the gravity of it all; to be with you means to remain in constant danger. “no, jaehyun. you don’t understand. i broke up with you because i’m batshit scared of what will happen to you.”
because it seems to always occur—anyone you come close to becomes another target for your enemies. it’s already hard enough to handle the responsibility of being a masked hero, but you don’t think you could handle a possibility where jaehyun’s death would be on your hands.
but all he does is shake his head and says, “i don’t care. i still love you.”
you haven’t heard him say that to you in months. such a simple phrase causes warmth to fill your limbs and heat to rise to your cheeks. he still has the same effect on you after so long.
there are consequences that this conversation bears. you should have stood up and left as soon as he patched you up. it should’ve been obvious that the longer you stayed, the more you would pour out sentiments that you tried to keep under wraps—under the mask—and it seemed that jaehyun knew how to undo them even better than he did then.
and hearing jaehyun say those words has you falling into a perpetual cycle of torment, one that makes every day intolerable for you can only watch him from afar. but aren’t you already living it the more you deny what’s in front of you two?
so you only nod, and bring his hand close so you can feel his fingertips on your lips. with closed eyes, you whisper, “okay.”
it’s a testament to everything—one to his offer to let you sleep in this very room you once treated as yours, one to his confession that tilted your world’s axis, one to the very situation you’re in—and you’re sure he knows it, too.
he smiles as soon as your eyes flutter open. “let’s go to sleep.”
you know that sleep meant to be wrapped in his arms all while he would leave kisses on your temple. you don’t remember the last time you got enough rest, but you remember that the last time you slept in jaehyun’s arms was the last one you were able to fall into slumber at ease.
so you nod, allowing him to help you out of the chair. and he helps you through it all—shedding the suit off of you, cleaning you of all the grime from tonight’s adventure, and getting dressed in fresh clothes—until you two find your place on his bed.
nothing is said for the rest of the night. for once, you drift into slumber without any secrets stashed away.
networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @blankjournal @onedoornet
boynextdoor permanent tag list: @bndokidoki @0310s @whyilovewhales-pdf
NIGHTS LIKE THIS.
genre / content best friend ! taesan x female reader, fluff, skinship warnings mentions of alcohol, cursing sypnosis after a long night, her best friend takes care of her and unbeknownst to him, awakes feelings wc 4.7k
The smell of cigarettes and vomit envelopes me as I step into what is probably one of the largest houses I've ever seen, much less been in.
Music is blaring through the speakers, so loud that I can barely hear anything else, but at least it's some decent songs they're playing. That seems to be the upside. I'm not sure I could survive tonight if I hated the music.
Though I was forced to come by my friend who thought it would be a great idea to get drunk together to try and get me to 'loosen up', I'm trying to find it in me to try and enjoy myself, so this is the opportunity to do so, even if I'm also forcing myself through it.
However, entering a party alone and without anyone by my side might have not been the best idea—I realize that quickly when I see two guys approaching me, clearly swaying in their step. Their smiles are friendly, but I'd rather not have an encounter with evidently intoxicated guys this early into my night.
I speed up my pace and walk in a half circle around them, even if their faces up closer seemed oddly familiar.
"Hey! Oh, where are you—"
"Hi! Hey, what—"
Their voices fade into the background as I approach a long, spacious hallway. I keep walking, red cups being dropped on the ground surrounding me and their sticky liquids soaking the carpet. Did the person living here not think to remove it if they were gonna throw a party?
Maybe they didn't care. Whoever lives here seems to be pretty damn rich. They could just get a new one.
I sigh, already fed up with everyone clashing into me, not watching their steps. "Watch where you're going!" Someone calls in my direction, and I ignore it—hard as it is after they slammed their shoulder into mine with no mercy. Or an apology, for that matter.
Me: Where the fuck are you?
It takes about thirty seconds until a response brightens the display.
J: Uh
J: A patio...
Spotting two glass doors, I open them, hoping they will take me where I so desperately need to be right now.
"Finally!" I hear as I do and am met with the sight of Jaehyun, somebody I consider a good friend, holding a bottle of beer in his hands—one that he's told me on multiple occasions that he doesn't like.
But no one really drinks beer for its taste, anyway.
"You made it! Sit down, we're not leaving early today."
Taking a seat beside Jaehyun, I spot a few other of our mutual friends, all having their drinks either beside or in front of them. We all eventually fall into conversation, and a bit later, I'm told to drink as much as I want.
Not that I need their encouragement.
I might be shitfaced, but I have no idea how much I have actually had to drink. When I am drunk, I have my moods. I always do. And tonight, I am quite giddy.
Without knowing how I even got here, I find myself dancing among the crowd. At first, I dance by myself, swaying and spinning and then I suddenly have a shorter guy in front of me, whose name I don't quite recall. He takes my hands, and I let him spin me himself, stupid as we might look.
We fall into a rhythm together, and my feet feel numb when I'm spun around once more, and I'm in the hold of somebody else.
This one is taller in comparison to the one before him, so much so that I have to crane my neck in order to look him in the eye. Everybody seems so familiar, like I know who these people are, not only by their faces but also their names, but nothing clicks.
He asks me something, and even though I don't quite understand it, I giggle at him. When I ask him to repeat himself, he does, and I'm pretty sure I giggle even harder in response.
"—already wanted to talk to you when you arrived," I hear him say. "Seemed in quite a hurry to get away from us, though." The guy winks, who might be Riwoo, or Sungho, or maybe Woonhak? Or maybe I'm wrong, and it's none of them at all.
I don't reply, instead stumbling into everyone in my vicinity, but not a single one of them notices.
The guy I'm dancing with after I switched—again—steps on my foot by accident. I'm pretty sure I hear him apologize, notice his lips move as he mouths the apology to me, but all I do is take his hands and let him guide me around the dance floor, as he is just a bit less drunk than I am.
Sungho, he tells me—the one who owns this house, as I learned earlier—and he seems to enjoy my company quite a bit, since he pulls me closer just so that our chests are bumping occasionally—and I let him, although I feel nothing when our bodies touch.
That might be exactly why.
Sungho keeps me from falling to the ground, steadying me each time I start to lose my balance, which makes me laugh, although I am not certain why.
After a few times of him saving me from face planting, he's not as quick anymore, and I nearly fall onto my back. That is, if someone behind me didn't steady me before that happened. Involuntarily, since I fell into them, but still.
Feeling a laugh bubble up once more, I turn around to thank whoever helped me, and come face to face with probably the only face I'd be able to recognize from miles away, even in my state.
"What's so funny?"
Him, with that stupid little grin on his face that I've grown to treasure whenever directed at me. And one that is capable of making me melt. Not that I'd ever tell him this, though.
Taesan. My friend. Best friend, actually. He glances at Sungho, then back at me. I'm still laughing, but he only tilts his head at me, only slightly smiling now.
I step closer to him, so that we're chest to chest—suddenly feeling all kinds of things—and wrap my arms around his middle. I can tell he doesn't expect it, because he stiffens very slightly, though he covers it up quite well, putting his arms around me, wrapping me in a tight hug.
My friends know that I'm not physical. They know me, so they also know that I would never get this close to anyone and be so thrilled about it, if I was sober.
But if there is one person they trust I can show this giddy, oddly affectionate, drunk version of myself to, it is him.
Precisely why not a single one of them has come up to us to get me out of here, although I both feel and see their eyes on me.
I'm dancing with my arms wrapped around him—as good as I can—as a way to postpone the inevitable. I know he came to me because he thinks I went just a little overboard with the alcohol tonight.
"How much did you have to drink?" he asks into my ear, attempting to make eye contact, and although he's quiet, I still catch it.
"Not much," I lie, not meeting his eyes, and he knows it, because he laughs at me in response. The sound is full, and I smile as well.
"You're such a liar," he whispers, taking my hands off his back. Sungho, still standing there, seems to be waiting, looking at me like he wants something from me. What could he possibly need?
"Thanks for your help until now," Taesan speaks, and I'm suddenly imagining him sounding almost cold? No, that can't be it, "but I'll take it from here, yeah?"
It nearly doesn't sound like a question. Did I really drink that much? So much so that it makes me imagine things?
My best friend turns his face to me, and grins at me so warmly, and it's so different from how he just spoke to Sungho that I start blushing. Blushing.
Blushing, too, is out of character for me, and it should especially be when it's me blushing for my best friend, who I've known for ages now. Since we were kids—but this is not the first nor the last time I've blushed for him.
He seems to bring out the unexpected sides of me.
And him being sober and attentive as it is, it's obvious he'd notice it. "Aww, she's blushing now? How sweet," he teases, and I feel my face getting even hotter. Then, not wasting any more time, he's taking my hand in his, slipping his fingers into mine, leading me away.
His grip is firm, but as quick as he was to hold it, I feel his palm slip from mine as someone pushes into my side.
They clash into me, hard, and I suddenly feel my bare leg being soaked. Part of my dress, too. All I can think: thank god I didn't wear my favorite pair of stockings today. And then: but I did wear my favorite dress.
I resist the urge to pout like a child, and suck it up. Or I try to. But I know it's showing on my face. From the corner of my eye, I catch Taesan's frown.
The guy doesn't apologize, instead pushing past me, mumbling something under his breath. Brushing past, he then proceeds to step on my foot, and I suppress a yell, but barely.
But I don't even acknowledge the guy that just poured his drink over me and accidentally hurt me—with no apology—just keep walking, but now I hear commotion behind me, and notice I don't see Taesan in front of me anymore.
The only thing I see as I turn around is my best friend pushing the same guy who shoved me, to the ground. He says something to him, but I don't quite catch it. From here, I can't see his face, and I wish he'd turn around.
Then, he comes right back to me, unbothered—leaving the other guy on the floor, wide-eyed—like a job got done. He stands right in front of me, blocking my view of everyone else, and puts his hand on my cheek.
"Where'd you park your car, love? I'm taking you home." It takes me a moment to realize the use of the pet name, although I should have already grown used to it. But I can't deny one thing: it still has an effect on me, nonetheless.
I realize then, absolutely not in the right state of mind, that I can never let him know that—that there is too many things I can never let him know.
Taesan's waiting for a response, but I feel too dizzy to answer, so I point to our right when we step into the cold night air, me gripping onto his hand as we do.
A sudden urge to save myself from embarrassment makes me mumble out, "But—I can drive myself, I swear," I'm not sure I even believe what I'm saying.
"Do you even believe that?" He smiles, reading my mind.
"Okay, but what about your car?"
He briefly touches the skin beneath my neck, shaking his head. "I'll get it later, just let me bring you home first, yeah?"
I'm still stumbling, holding onto his arm now to hold myself up, and he doesn't mind. In fact, I'm pretty certain he finds me amusing to look at.
Once we reach my car and he opens the door for me to step into, he pulls out a tissue. He looks down at me, and I know he's asking for permission. As soon as he gets it, he's reaching over to wipe my leg dry carefully.
I watch him as he does it for me, although I could likely do it myself, even in this condition.
"Sorry about your dress," he says quietly.
"Don't worry," I say in response, "I can always put it in the washer, can't I?"
I catch his smile before it's gone, replaced with an odd kind of look in his eyes. "Right. It'd be a shame if you couldn't wear that dress anymore." And then, "It happens to be my favorite one of yours."
Glad he doesn't give me a chance to react or answer, he closes my door carefully and walks over to the driver's seat.
My own playlist drowns out the one from the house I've just spent hours dancing and drinking in, and as he begins to drive us to our destination, I finally get the chance to give in to the exhaustion and close my eyes.
I abruptly wake up when the car stops, and my eyes open slowly. I catch my best friend staring at me, and I meet his eyes, even if it's hard not to fall asleep right here, yet again.
I can't stop the smile when he carefully intertwines our fingers, and he can't either. "We're here," he whispers.
He'll walk me to my house and then leave once he's made sure I'm okay and sobering up, but for some reason, I don't even want him to leave. God, I really need to control myself at parties. Drinking so much has really turned me stupid and unreasonable.
Not crossing the line between friendship and love has never been a problem before, and tonight is about to put an end to that. I'm not sure if I want that.
Taesan likely assumes my silence is a result of being ... plastered, when in reality, I'd feel oddly sober if it wasn't for my wobbly legs. Stepping out of the car, it isn't long until he opens the door beside me, unbuckling my seat belt for me.
The next thing I know, I'm being carried in the air, right in his arms, and he heads in my house's direction.
We have done this so many times before that I'm not scared at all of falling. Maybe only of a ... different kind of falling.
Perhaps I'm very, very lonely. Maybe that's it. Why else would I suddenly be feeling things that I have never felt before, for someone that has been in my life ever since I can remember?
I find myself questioning this while he takes me up the stairs leading to my home. I have never felt this before, have I?
"You okay?" he asks. I open my eyes, not having noticed that I'd closed them. "Sleepy," I whisper.
He grins down at me, sincerity in his eyes. It's always stayed there, never dimmed. Not since I've known him. Maybe it's that I like most about him. He is honest, and he is kind. There's not a single thing about him that is not genuine.
"You'll sleep soon, love."
I nod against his chest, and my eyes close involuntarily.
The next time I wake, it's with him setting me on my bed, and I listen to him shuffle in my drawers, picking out my pyjamas and putting them beside me.
Giving him the keys to my house keeps proving itself as a great choice.
"Let me get you some water," he says, and I stand and quickly get out of my dress, the wet spot in it being near unbearable. I run to the bathroom, and when I step out of it, I enjoy the feel of my pyjamas on my skin.
When he comes back with a water bottle and a glass in his hands, I just take the bottle, putting it to my mouth and downing most of it immediately.
"Looks like you needed that."
This might be the least of what I need right now. My newly discovered feelings for him are confusing and scary, and I have no idea what to do about them. I don't know if maybe they're going to ruin the only thing that has ever been consistent in my life.
He sits beside me, hand falling to mine on my side. I notice that it doesn't go further than that. He doesn't squeeze it, doesn't even hold it. He simply rests it on top of mine.
The touch is so warm and inviting that I turn my hand to slip it into his, grip firm, scared he'll want to let go.
But when all he does is squeeze back and look at me in a kind of pleasant surprise, I ask.
"Do you want to stay the night?"
There is one thing that's quite important for context here.
He has not slept over at my house since we were fourteen years old. Scratch that, probably even twelve. Not since the concept of little boyfriends and girlfriends came into the picture, and our parents decided against it. Becoming older, that didn't change. Perhaps we'd gotten used to it by then.
He's always taken care of me and made sure I was safe and happy, but for him (or me) to stay the night was a line we decided not to cross.
Until now.
I expect him to look shocked, perhaps a little freaked out, even? I have no idea what to expect. But when I look up at him—a cute little grin plastered there, right on his face.
"I'll stay if you'd like me to. You're still tipsy, perhaps it's better if I'm close tonight," he says, standing, and I'm imagining things yet again, this time a nervous quiver to his voice.
"And I'll sleep on the couch, but I'll keep the door to the living room open, yeah? Just come to me for whatever you need."
I can't help but feel disappointment over the fact that he's not even sleeping in the same room, but I know that he's doing that mostly because he doesn't know how drunk I still am. He's doing it for me. I barely feel any remnants of the alcohol at all when I think about how warm and kind and understanding he's been to me, all night, all of our lives.
Although he's never slept here, he does have some of his clothes stored in my closet, and he takes them before he makes his way to me.
"Sleep well." His hand goes to my cheek, touch soft. His fingers move across the side of my face in a caress. I don't even think he takes notice of this, but I don't stop him.
If him telling me good night will always be like this, I'd let him stay here every night.
His gaze roams across my face, eyes alight. "You look so pretty. You always do. And I've always thought so," he says, an admission that leaves me feeling everything at once.
My shock likely written all over my face, he tilts my head upward, kisses my nose, just once, and leaves.
I feel a sort of emptiness as I lay in the same spot as I've been in for a long, long time. Definitely hours. It has to be morning now. The feeling surprises me, but most of all, it confuses me.
Never have I not been fine being in bed on my own, wrapped in my sheets with no one beside me to hold, have never wanted anyones comfort as I drift to sleep.
I feel better now, my mind clearing. I'm left wondering whether everything I felt last night was just the alcohol, after all. The possibility occurs to me—that everything about this, all of these feelings and sensations, are simply fleeting—and it fills me both with hope and dread, the combination of those two conflicting.
Though I come to realize the dread overpowers the rest, and I'm up and out of my room before I can think about what I'm doing. I find him on the living room couch, watching what appears to be a documentary on the TV.
The blinds are still down, so it's still almost as dark as it was when we entered.
He only notices me when I sit beside him, startling at the realization of me being there. "You okay? How are you feeling?" he asks, and I pick up on his cautious tone.
"I'm alright. Not sure how much I slept, but I sure can't sleep now."
I pull my legs to my chest and stare at him, and he pats the empty space beside him—the space I'd originally left empty on purpose.
Still, I scoot over to him and don't object when he carefully puts his arm around my shoulders, fingers trailing up and down my upper arm, a motion that I doubt he's conscious of.
"And by the looks of it, you didn't sleep all that much either. You didn't drink, though. So what's keeping you up?" I ask.
I notice his eyes burning into me, but I stare ahead and let the question hang between us until he gives me an answer. "Not sure," he whispers. "Just had some trouble falling asleep tonight. Got a lot on my mind."
That makes two of us. "Well, I'm sorry for ruining the party for you." I didn't realize this when it happened, but I came to the realization earlier that I probably ruined a night out for him.
"You thinking I was there to 'party'," he smiles, "in the first place, is cute," he teases. "But Jaehyun called and said you were in desperate need of a ride. Since they had all drunk, none of them could do it. And well, he knew who to call."
He knew who to call. "Were those his words?" I ask after a few seconds pass.
With a contemplating tilt of his head, he says, "I'm pretty sure he just said you needed me." Of course he did.
My friend, Jaehyun, has a way of meddling in things he has no idea about. For example, he does not quite understand why nothing has ever happened between me and my best friend.
"Go for it. Be brave. I don't understand it. What do you have to lose?" He'd said to me then, adjusting the glasses on his head.
I'd looked at him like he was insane.
"Him, Jaehyun. Him."
Apart from me not wanting to lose the connection we had, I'd always been convinced that I never held any romantic feelings for him like that, anyway. Jaehyun thought otherwise, but then he'd said something that stuck with me.
"You'll never be happy if you keep letting yourself be the one thing holding you back."
"Thank you, by the way," I whisper, swiftly changing the subject.
"What for, love?" he asks, confused.
"You risked getting into trouble for me. You didn't have to, but you did. I'm glad you always stand up for me," I confess, remembering the guy who ruined my dress earlier.
"Oh." A little smile. "Don't worry about that. I can't stand rudeness, and he was being rude to you," at this, he frowns deeply, as if he's reminded of something. "He had to learn."
"Did he ... insult me, or something?" I ask, remembering how he said something when he clashed into me. It's a shot in the blue, but it's not like him to get angry all that easily.
He just nods, not elaborating. And I don't push.
I suddenly wonder what it would be like for this to be a usual thing. Him stepping up so I don't have to, him taking care of me in this way. Because I'm not stupid. As my friend, he didn't have to do all this for me.
But if he were more, this would be natural for us. Expected, even.
"You'll never be happy if you keep letting yourself be the one thing holding you back."
And now I'm here, still only holding myself back. Though these feelings are this new, or rather, newly discovered, at least they aren't a product of the drinks I had. Instead, they were feelings that had been growing for a long time, and today, I finally allowed them.
I feel his finger on my chin, and I shudder. He tilts my head up, slowly, and he's so gentle and there's so much affection in the way he's looking at me when we're at eye level that I have no choice.
"Hey, what's wro—"
He never gets to finish his sentence, interrupted by my mouth on his, featherlight.
I feel him freeze, and for just a second, I fear the worst.
He's going to reject me. He's going to reject me, and I'll look like the fool that I've been feeling like ever since I stepped foot into that party.
And I'm going to have to make him leave because I'll be too mortified to even look him in the face.
Ever again.
Needing to know how he feels, I pull away. I find him staring down at me in something akin to awe. Still, he makes no effort to move, or to speak. He is only staring at me, eyes bulging out of his head, and I panic.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I shouldn't just—"
"Y/N, baby, please tell me you feel fully sober."
I startle, surprised by him speaking to me. Surprised he hasn't run out of the door yet. And then, realizing it only moments later, surprised at the petname.
Baby. I've never heard him call me that before. It feels nicer than I'd like to admit. I almost make him say it again.
"Hey, I swear, I'm sober now—I promise. I would never lie to—"
And then both his hands frame my face, and he kisses me.
Never have I thought about what it would feel like before, but I believe I would have thought that the first time he kissed me, it'd be gentle and sweet.
Nothing about how he's kissing me right now is either of that. It's desperate and it's eager. Even as he guides me to lie down on my couch, wasting no time getting on top of me, I still can't get enough.
Even like this, distracted by hands on my waist and lips against mine, I feel his grin.
He pulls away way too fast.
"You don't have a single clue how fucking much I've been wanting this."
His thumb is tracing along my stomach while he says it, and I make a mental note to tell him how much he touches me without being aware he's doing it.
He's never touched me like this, but it still feels so right, like he's never not done it.
I make space for him beside me, and he smiles at me as he gets comfortable, getting way closer than I am used to, facing me on his side, hand on my hip.
"You're so beautiful," he's saying, and before he even continues, I spot that giddy look on his face that tells me he's about to tell me something that he's been itching to tell.
"I'm not sure how you feel about me, but I'm just going to be honest with you now because you kissed me first, even if I'm still not one hundred percent sure why. I like you. I really, really like you. I have since forever. And when I say forever, I mean it. Ever since we were kids."
The confession leaves me lost for words.
"To be honest, I never planned on telling you, because I thought you'd never like me back. I thought, why not save yourself from the pain of her rejection? And I was fine with being only your friend, never more."
Before he carries on, he shakes his head.
"Fuck that, it killed me to think I'd never get to have you like that. Especially because not only would I have to be your friend forever, I'd have to see you with other guys who you would see as more than that. And well, I wouldn't be strong enough for that." He thinks for just a second.
"But it's scary, because I know I would have tried to be if only it meant I could stay in your life."
He kisses me again, softly this time. And again. And again. "I think I'd do anything for you," he whispers.
And I wish I could find the words to tell him I wouldn't do any less for him, but my mouth won't open, won't make a sound.
I blink up at him, and I'm not sure what he sees in my face that makes him laugh, but he does. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I don't expect more from you than you're willing to give."
I stay silent.
"Okay, actually, I do need you to tell me you weren't just trying to mess around just now and that you do feel at least something for me, or I might go a little insane."
I still don't find the words, feeling like an idiot.
Taesan's face scrunches up. "Hey, are you—"
"I like you."
The relief that floods his face makes me smile. But unlike me, I don't leave him without the ability to speak. "Yeah? You like me?" he teases, putting his hand at my neck, getting closer to my face.
My cheeks flush, like they do only with him. "I like you more than anyone, and I don't want to hide that from you. I still need to fully understand what I feel, but I know I need you with me. As more than my friend."
That response satisfies him, although it is a lot less than what he gave me—I'm reminded of how he's so sweet to me that it hurts—and he rolls on top of me once more. "Well, then let me help you figure things out."
"And how will you do that?" I ask as his fingers find my jaw, stroking it.
"By taking you on a date."
@ miusiz
₊⊹ 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘤𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 ₊⊹
description: fluff ⋆ university au ⋆ fuckboy taesan turned loser
in which fuckboy turned loser taesan finds himself unexpectedly chasing after a sweet and innocent girl he met at a party
pairings: h. taesan x afab!reader
words: 4.6k
warnings: mildly suggestive ⋆ cussing ⋆ mentions of alcohol & sex
author’s note: hiii it’s lynn again!! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) this oneshot is partially inspired by nct dream’s japanese song “stupid cupid” so i strongly recommend that you listen to it while reading (ㅅ´ ˘ `) happy reading !!
tags: @onedoornet
the arrow of love accidentally pierced me
"i'm not going."
taesan groaned and refused to move as jaehyun and leehan pulled his arm insistently to get him off the bed, miserably failing in their attempts to drag taesan to yet another party.
"since when do you of all people say no to parties"
jaehyun scoffed and crossed his arms while taesan glared back at him.
"i wanna have fun instead of being your guys' dd again. i go to parties with you guys and don't even get to drink let alone get laid"
he complained, waving his hands back and forth as leehan sprayed cologne all over the place, obviously bored with the way things were going with jaehyun's horrible attempt at persuading taesan to come.
"you don't have to be dd so pleaseeee come with us. it's literally walking distance to the other building"
jaehyun resorted to begging, dropping to his knees and holding his hands together in front of taesan. taesan just scoffed in amusement before looking at leehan.
"no dd?"
leehan shook his head in response, ceasing his cologne attacks. taesan let out a light sigh, stretching his arms before getting up off the bed.
"dress code is formal"
jaehyun shouted excitedly before running to the other room to grab his own outfit he brought to taesan's dorm.
taesan rummaged through his closet and found a black collared shirt with dress pants. he had no clue who chose the party theme but silently thanked them for giving him an excuse to wear that one shirt that emphasized his arm muscles perfectly.
"pregame~"
jaehyun sang as he came back holding three shot glasses and some soju, quickly pouring it before handing one to each person.
"to jaehyun hopefully getting laid tonight"
leehan toasted as jaehyun shamelessly seconded the wish.
'hopefully me too if these fuckers don't ruin it again'
taesan thought to himself as they all clinked shot glasses, downing them as fast as jaehyun poured them. the three sighed as the familiar slight fuzzy feeling coursed through their veins.
"okay let's go ladies !!"
jaehyun excitedly ushered everyone out the door, practically dragging taesan out of his own home.
"i need want a girl"
jaehyun whined the entire way there, leehan silently shaking his head at his desperation while taesan exasperatedly sighed.
"you say this and fumble every time because of how drunk you get. you think you'd learn after how many times it happened"
taesan shook his head as he raised his hand to ring the doorbell. he didn't even get near it before the door swung open and the most beautiful girl he's ever seen stepped out.
"oh shit it’s freezing- oh sorry, i opened the door kinda fast didn’t i? but hey, welcome in"
you looked up with a smile at the three boys, nodding briefly before stepping outside to go to your car and grab more drinks.
jaehyun and leehan excitedly went in, taesan following suit shortly after looking back to get a good look at you. not being able to see much since it was so dark out, he just went inside to make himself a drink.
taesan forgot about you for a while, instead drinking and hanging out with other people he recognized at the party. he stayed with sungho and riwoo, his upperclassman friends from his class.
"oh y/n!"
sungho called you over and waved after seeing you finally put all the drinks on the counter. you gave him a bright smile and waved back, carefully walking over while avoiding bumping into other people.
"hey guys, how's the party?"
you asked with a slight giggle as you gave sungho a side hug, already a little tipsy from the fruity cocktail you held.
"it's great y/n. glad to see you're finally loosening up"
sungho joked as you nudged his shoulder lightly. taesan just watched your guys' interaction, mostly focusing on you. he recognized you as the one who swung open the door, and he finally got to take a good look at you in better lighting.
you were much shorter than him and wearing a tight, navy blue dress that hugged all your curves so perfectly. your hair was curled and had tiny blue bows in it to match your dress. you had glittery makeup that made you glow even more when you smiled.
it was simple: taesan couldn't keep his eyes off you. and not in the normal 'she's so bad' kinda way. he fell in love on sight.
"he's kidding, i'm actually the one who introduced him to all our regulars who throw parties"
you smiled at taesan with a hint of worry in your eyes at how dazed he seemed. taesan snapped out of it and nodded back at you.
"oh? did you two already know each other?"
riwoo asked in slight surprise, becoming even more amused when the two of you shook your heads. he'd been observing the entire thing, and could clearly see taesan was unusually interested in you.
"oh my gosh, i'm so sorry. i haven't even introduced myself yet. i'm y/n"
you smiled brightly and stuck a hand out for taesan to shake and he took it delicately, squeezing it gently. you just missed the faint blush spreading on the back of his neck before he covered it up with his hand.
"i'm taesan. i think i've seen you around campus. nursing major right?"
you adopted a look of surprise and nodded.
"yeah, how'd you know??"
"your pretty face isn't exactly forgettable, you know"
you froze up in shock at how bold taesan was being for someone you just met. taesan felt like he wanted to die at the corny line.
usually fuckboy taesan was more pulled together and could say stuff like that easily, but around you? he had no idea what had gotten into him.
sungho and riwoo just stared in astonishment at the clear flirting happening between the two of you
"sungho and i are gonna go out to the car real quick. we'll be right back"
riwoo said all of a sudden, pointedly smirking at taesan before dragging sungho off to sit outside for a bit. you watched with slight shock as the two quickly darted through the crowd to get outside, turning your attention back to an equally flustered taesan.
"okay anyways mr. stalker, i haven't seen you around campus. what's your major?"
you asked as you gestured towards the counter, offering to make taesan a drink. he quickly downed the little beer he had left and followed you.
"i'm a kines major. i saw you a couple times when preparing for the sports clinic event"
"ooh so we might be working together soon for the sports clinic event soon?"
you turned to look at him, smiling as you handed him a fruity pink cocktail. taesan looked down and smiled slightly at the glitter coating the rim, praying that it was edible as he took the glass from your hand. he didn't miss the way your hand lingered on his before fully handing it over.
"yeah, and i might be the patient with how sweet this drink looks"
taesan looked at you teasingly as he gestured to the glittery drink, making you giggle as he took a sip.
"how is it?"
"good. it's not too sweet for me, thank goodness"
taesan nodded and you let out a little sigh of relief, a smile spreading on your face as you sipped your own drink.
"so anyways, are you a lightweight?
before you two knew it, you had migrated to the couch to have an actual conversation, taking more than enough twisted teas with you.
"fuck no. bet i could drink more than you"
taesan snorted, looking at your mock offense as you gasped.
"you're on"
you grinned as you clinked cocktail glasses with him, preparing for a long night of drinking with someone new.
"so how'd you get to know sungho and riwoo?"
taesan looked at you while passing a can of twisted tea, clinking your guys' cans together while you thought of how you guys met.
"we met in one of my classes last year. those two basically took me into their friend group and watched over me since i didn't know anyone, and we got close that way. and you?"
"they're kines majors too, so we work together a lot. they're hella cool people"
you hummed and nodded in agreement.
at first it was just small talk and getting to know each other, but it quickly escalated to faint touches and obvious flirting. at least on taesan's part.
"we should meet up sometime to go eat"
taesan turned his head to look at you, both of you sitting sloppily on the couch, already pretty tipsy. you giggled and looked at him.
"i'd like that. wanna go out to eat something together?"
you kept giggling, slurring your words as you reached to clutch taesan's arm for stability before pulling away, laying down in the process. he didn't miss the way you trailed your nails down his forearm before pulling away.
"of course. make it a date?
taesan finished off his can of twisted tea before looking back at you, eyes getting heavy as he reached to interlock his fingers with yours.
before you could even say anything, taesan passed out right next to you. you shot up and checked to see if he was okay before lying back down next to him, laughing nonstop at how ridiculous the situation was.
as if on cue, jaehyun and leehan stumbled into the living room and saw taesan passed out next to you.
"did this loser actually fall asleep?"
leehan snorted as you giggled, shaking your head and clearly having no idea what was actually going on. jaehyun just laughed and worked to drag taesan up and out.
"thanks for hosting y/n. it was fun"
jaehyun gave you a smile and wave before putting taesan on his back. as the three left, your roommate came into the room with a smirk as she picked you up and brought you to your room.
"oh pretty girl, we're gonna have a fun talk tomorrow"
chaeryeong scoffed, an amused smile spreading across her lips as you smacked your lips and smiled contently as you fell asleep.
girl you got me crazy, blame it on stupid cupid
taesan woke up the next morning feeling like absolute shit. he got up to go get water from the kitchen and saw jaehyun sitting at the counter, looking like he was also dying of a fat headache.
"hey"
jaehyun croaked out as he passed taesan a packet of liquid iv and a plate of pancakes.
"hey. did u get anyone's number this time?"
taesan asked as customary after a party, with jaehyun groaning and shaking his head as usual.
"i saw you talking it up with y/n though"
jaehyun teased and a slight smile appeared on taesan's face. before he could say anything, leehan ran into the room.
"you're talking to y/n? of all people you chose y/n??"
leehan said a little too loudly, causing the other two to clutch their heads and hurriedly shush him for how loud he was being.
"what's wrong with y/n? you know her or something?"
taesan's eyebrows furrowed and jaehyun nodded in agreement.
"nothing's wrong with y/n. but you?? and y/n?? mister fuckboy taesan trying to get in the pants of the nicest person in the world??"
leehan questioned as taesan looked taken aback.
"who said i wanted to get in her pants? and why are you so shocked in the first place?"
leehan sighed and took a fat swig of jaehyun's water, ignoring jaehyun's protests.
"y/n doesn't seem like the type of girl you can fuck around with for fun. she gives off the vibe of looking for a genuine relationship"
leehan explained as jaehyun snatched his water back and chugged the rest.
"well good because i actually like her"
taesan scoffed as jaehyun spat out the water across the kitchen island.
"WHAT."
leehan and jaehyun both turned to taesan with the most incredulous looks in their eyes. taesan looked at them and scoffed.
"is it that hard to believe i can like someone?"
"yes."
"dude you're literally the epitome of an emo fuckboy."
"okay rude. maybe not like her, but i'm interested"
taesan rolled his eyes while the other two collected themselves and laughed.
"you and y/n as a couple would be insane"
leehan cackled as he walked out of the room, jaehyun's own laughs quieting as he cleaned up the water.
"whatever. see you in class tomorrow"
taesan glared at jaehyun, going back to the guest room to grab his stuff, promptly leaving to go to his own apartment.
24/7 like a party ... it's going to go out of control, heartbeat
for the next couple days, taesan miraculously saw you everywhere. sure, he'd seen you around campus once or twice, but now? you were popping up around every corner every second of the day, and taesan was going insane.
"bro why do you keep staring at that fountain? it’s the middle of winter. it’s not even running"
jaehyun complained as he looked over at the fountain and saw absolutely nothing. taesan shook out of his daze and turned back to jaehyun.
"just spacing out"
he shrugged and jaehyun gave him a weird look, continuing whatever he was talking about while taesan stayed dazed.
"is that y/n?"
leehan suddenly said and taesan whipped his head towards the fountain again. but you weren't there.
"holy shit he wants her bad"
jaehyun and leehan started laughing as taesan just groaned and put his head in his hands.
"i've been seeing her around here every day and i swear i've never even seen her here before that party. should've gotten her number"
taesan muttered as he lifted his head to look at the two, who were the ones staring at the fountain this time.
"i think you manifested y/n's appearance"
leehan laughed and jaehyun waved at taesan, motioning him to go over to you.
"go talk to her and get her number loverboy"
he hissed and taesan hesitated. seeing you weren't with friends or anything today, he decided to go over before you left.
it's going to be bad if you keep going like this
"y/n?"
you looked up to see taesan walking towards you, acting all surprised that you were there as if he hadn't seen you there for a whole week straight.
"oh hey, taesan right? good to see you again"
you smiled as taesan came to a stop right in front of you.
"how's the clinic been going for you? i haven't seen you around so i guess we didn't sign up for the same shifts or something?"
taesan asked and your smile dropped a little. you really thought you'd see taesan at the clinic sessions, and not seeing him until now made your unusual encounter all the more nerve racking.
"it's been a lot of fun working with my classmates and meeting the kines majors"
your bright smile came back and taesan couldn't help but smile back at you.
"that's great, they're all really good people. um, well, i was wondering if-"
"Y/N!"
you whipped your head around to see sungho calling your name and waving at you. you smiled and waved back while taesan also waved awkwardly.
"oh hey taesan. y/n and i were about to go shopping around the area. wanna join us?"
sungho invited and taesan shook his head.
"i just came over to say hi real quick. jaehyun and leehan are over there waiting for me anyways"
he gestured towards his friends, and you and sungho both nodded in understanding.
"well, bye taesan"
you reached to give taesan's arm a quick, gentle squeeze as you walked by. sungho smirked at the sight as he gave taesan a pat on the back, unknowingly having ruined taesan's attempt to get your number.
taesan walked like a dejected puppy back to his friends who were eagerly waiting to hear the story by this point.
"i got cockblocked and didn't get her number"
he groaned and buried his face in his hands while the other two looked on and laughed.
"never in my life did i think taesan was a loser until now"
leehan chuckled as he calmed down, jaehyun still dying and fighting for his life while taesan continued to look dejected.
all taesan could think about is what that touch on the arm meant. was it casual? did you already pick up on the fact that he liked you? did you reciprocate? he was completely confused.
"watch, i'm gonna get her number soon"
taesan declared as he got up and started walking to his next class after bidding the two goodbye.
"wanna bet that he isn't gonna get it by the time the week is over"
"bet he is"
"$20?"
"you're on"
is it bad? is it good?
taesan was able to poke his head around the clinic to visit you under the pretense of visiting his other kines major friends.
and every. single. time. you drove taesan crazy with the subtle touches you would give in response to his poor flirting.
at first it started simple with a little squeeze of the hand or arm, but then it escalated to interlocking your fingers together while you had a conversation.
taesan thought it was cute with the way you played with his fingers while he talked, but also? it set his heart on fire and he lost his train of thought the moment he felt you rub your thumb against the palm of his hand.
"um, taesan?"
you questioned in response to his silence, to which taesan shook out of his daze and kept yapping about what kines majors do.
taesan thought he was fumbling bad. he stuttered constantly, ears flushed whenever you gave him one of your light touches, and was visibly shaking when you held his hand. the boy was so worried that he was gonna scare you off just by coming off so awkward.
i don't know what to do
“what the fuck”
riwoo woke up to an obnoxious taesan banging on the door, to which he scrambled to open it as soon as possible.
“what’s wrong?”
riwoo croaked out as he saw taesan’s panicked face.
“i think i’m fumbling y/n”
he breathed out as he walked in and collapsed on the couch, a confused riwoo following behind him after shutting the door.
“what did you do”
riwoo collapsed next to him, grabbing a pillow and shutting his eyes while preparing to listen to taesan’s rant.
“i don’t even know but i’ve been hella nervous around her and stuttering and i still haven’t asked for her number and she’s been all touchy with me and i’m scared of what she thinks of me i’m so confused”
taesan said all at once while riwoo stayed silent to process it all.
“wait so are you really interested in something real with her?”
riwoo opened his eyes and admitted defeat since he couldn’t go back to sleep with a yapping taesan.
taesan’s eyebrows furrowed before nodding slightly.
“well thank goodness because she’s not the type to fuck around. anyways, if she’s been touchy and not dry then i think that means you’re okay no? y/n plays dumb but she’s not naive. if she’s acting like that then she’s probably interested too”
riwoo concluded before thinking for a bit again.
“just start by getting her number. i don’t know why you think it’s so hard after having an entire catalog of girls’ numbers, but start by deleting all those if you want something serious. and be good to her. that girl’s my ride or die”
riwoo yawned as he ushered taesan out the door.
“you really think i can get her number?”
“positive, you fucking loser”
riwoo teased as taesan rolled his eyes, taking a deep breath before walking down to find y/n at the clinic again.
he saw you standing in the doorway preparing to take a patient in for a flu shot. you glanced up and gave taesan a small smile before closing the door for the patient’s privacy.
taesan’s heart was racing a mile a minute as he sat and waited for you to be done in the room. he took a while to calm his heart down and steel up his nerves, but he did over the course of the 20 minutes you were gone.
“taesan? what are you doing here?”
taesan jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, not realizing you had walked the patient out already and stood in front of him.
“i came to say hi, maybe ask if you wanted to get lunch or something?”
taesan tried to be as nonchalant as possible while he said that, but the rosy blush on his cheeks gave him away. you couldn’t help the small smile that spread to the corners of your lips.
“i’d love to! just let me get changed really quick”
you grabbed your tote bag and ran off to the dressing room to change as soon as possible. taesan laughed lightly at how you seemed so excited to go eat after probably 6 hours at the clinic.
“ready?”
taesan stood up the moment he saw you come out and you smiled and nodded.
“i was thinking we could walk to somewhere around campus. you craving anything specific?”
taesan looked at you while you two walked and you thought for a minute before looking up at him.
“i’ve kinda been craving udon”
you admitted and taesan looked at you as if you were the most perfect person in the world. udon? in the middle of winter?? with a beautiful girl??? taesan was practically on cloud 9.
“sounds perfect to me”
taesan smiled and you two walked together down to the little area on campus full of restaurants and little shops. the two of you sat down in a small booth and taesan could barely keep eye contact with you. he thanked god that you decided to sit opposite of him or else you would’ve felt the seat shake from how much he was trembling.
“do you have any classes after this?”
you suddenly asked and taesan shook his head.
“do you?”
you sadly nodded your head.
“i have psych in 2 hours so we can still stay here and talk for a good while”
you smiled as you looked at taesan and he couldn’t help but mirror your smile too. the sweet waitress came back with your guys’ bowls of udon, so the conversation quieted for a while, with some small talk and jokes scattered in between bites.
“thank you for coming to see me and taking me to get lunch”
you said happily as you took the check from the waitress’s hands, smile dropping when you saw that the bill was paid for entirely.
“taesan what the hell? you didn’t have to pay for lunch. i can pay you back”
you hurriedly opened your purse until taesan stopped you and shook his head.
“i asked you to lunch so i’m gonna pay. don’t even worry about it”
he said as he guided you to stand up and walk outside. you had a slight frown on your lips, feeling guilty for not having contributed at all.
“let me pay for lunch next time though, please?”
you pleaded with taesan and he looked at you skeptically before laughing and nodding.
“give me your number so we can plan another lunch date?”
you smirked and raised your eyebrows at that, but put your number in taesan’s phone nonetheless.
“you’re not slick han taesan, i see you”
you laughed and taesan looked away in slight embarrassment before laughing with you. in reality, taesan’s heart was bursting with joy, but he wasn’t about to let you know that he was freaking out inside.
“i’ll walk you to class. it’s on the way to the dorms anyways”
taesan looked at you and said, making you smile at him gratefully.
“at least it’s a short walk. ready to go?”
you snaked your arm around taesan’s, holding it close while you two walked back to campus.
“i had a lot of fun talking to you today. i’ve been wondering if you were ever gonna reach out after we talked at my party”
you admitted as you two walked back to school. taesan scoffed in an attempt to hide how happy he was that you reciprocated.
“i had a lot of fun talking to you then too. i wanted to talk to you more but i didn’t have your number”
taesan said as he reached a hand up to cover the blush on his neck. it didn’t go unnoticed by you but you didn’t mention it.
“well you do now. i gotta go but text me whenever so we can go on a longer date next time taesan”
you gave taesan’s arm one final squeeze with a sweet smile before disappearing into the lecture room, slowly disappearing from taesan’s line of sight.
the moment taesan couldn’t see you anymore, he started smiling so widely he thought his cheeks were gonna stretch out.
“bro she’s so sweet and so cute and i finally got her number”
taesan yapped all about you to jaehyun and leehan, who were less than happy to listen but also happy for you. they loved you like a sister and were happy it was taesan of all people who liked you enough to change his fuckboy ways.
however, things usually happen in more ways than one, don’t they? as they say, all’s fair in love and war.
blame it on stupid cupid
“chaer?”
you woke up on the night of your party and rubbed your eyes to find your roommate basically trembling with excitement to hear the story of you and taesan.
“girl you gotta tell me everything that happened between you guys”
chaeryeong jumped onto your bed and waited eagerly to hear the story.
“nothing even happened. he’s just really sweet and wanted to get to know me a little. was too drunk to get my number though”
you said simply, hoping that chaeryeong wouldn’t question it, but she did.
“what do you mean he didn’t get your number? you’re SO FINE i would’ve asked immediately”
she complained and you shrugged. all of a sudden she shot up, startling you in the process.
“fuck no y/n, this is operation ‘get you with taesan’ time”
chaeryeong said and you groaned, not bothering to hide your amused smile.
“lay it on me. what’s your amazing plan chaer?”
“GIRL OKAY so you need to walk by these places every day. taesan passes by them pretty often. i see him all the time walking to class so make HIM come to YOU”
she huffed proudly after she finished her speech and you clapped sarcastically.
“i can try. we also have clinic together so maybe he can ask for my number then too”
“also make sure to touch his shoulder or something. guys are like, from the victorian era. they’ll take ANYTHING as a sign so long as you give it to them”
you weren’t that confident taesan was even interested in you like that, but seeing the way he looked for you every time you passed by the fountain made you wanna keep teasing him by simply passing by.
the moment he actually came up to you was the moment you knew you got him. and so, the actual mastermind behind you and taesan progressing was none other than lee chaeryeong.
girl you got me crazy, blame it on stupid cupid
💌 send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome (this is wonki-luv btw)
oh god hiiiii you're so sweet 😭😭😭😭❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹 thank you so much !!!!! <3
BOW TO ME.
genre / content vampire king ! riki x wolf princess ! oc, born enemies, betrayal warnings death, torture, poison, blood, profanity sypnosis the werewolf princess sneaks into the vampire prince's coronation, who is unbearably charming and beautiful, but also her lifelong enemy, which is exactly why she needs to kill him. wc 4.5k
part one.
BOW TO ME.
Some people think only righteous things can be satisfactory.
My folk, though? We know differently. We know that even the evil can fulfill our needs. Perhaps only that can.
We do not feign goodness, but that does not mean we are not on the right side. Because not everything is split into good and bad. Sometimes one side is bad and the other is worse.
Of course, nothing and nobody is right when you're monsters. Though if you feel you have no other choice, you stop caring about what's right and wrong.
Is that why I am doing this? No, not exactly. Not entirely. The more I think about it, the more I do realize I am doing this for no good reason at all, but justifying it by classifying it as revenge, to do justice for people I have never known.
As I said, I stopped caring.
He sputters, clumps of blood landing on the floor before me, leading him to cough even harder than before. My eyes are something he tries his best to avoid.
He has a nice face, attractive features. Pretty doe eyes. Like a deer. The kind that wolves chase. Also the kind that we enjoy seeing the light snuff out of. For now, though, he is only tied to a chair.
But most importantly of all: he is a vampire.
With tight ropes and cold, metal chains binding him to the stool and me—in front of him and ready to attack—it appears evident that he is not getting out of this room anytime soon. This castle is a fortress, and he is not finding a way out of it. Not with me guarding him.
Whilst he is not looking at me, he observes every obstacle in the room, everything that he believes could grant him an escape attempt. Even though I captured him and defeated him, he likely still thinks he's superior to me.
These vampires are always so overly confident, as though no one and nothing could ever cause real harm to them.
Even if something did.
"Let me out. Let me out and we can talk. Promise. Just let me out of here."
A second long I let him believe I'm considering the offer, and then I shake my head. "I'd rather you talk just like this. You're comfortable, are you not? As comfortable as you will get."
"Please, I beg you. I wasn't trying to—"
"No, no. You didn't try anything, I'm aware. Just that it was truly unfortunate for you that someone like me just so happened to be in the area. Unlucky."
He gasps as he starts to feel the fluid coating the chains. Poisonous for vampires, werewolf blood. Not just any. Royal wolf blood. Grunting, he struggles against them, giving up with a pained expression on his face when he figures out that even if he got out, it would be even worse for him.
Quickly, his desperate, whiny demeanor changes, and he gets agitated, pretty doe eyes converting into fury.
"You fucking wolves. Do you think you're stronger? Better?" he asks, but its not really a question.
"If you needed the element of surprise to catch me, maybe you're not that good after all, huh? Because when I'm out of here, these chains and ropes, I'll show you what it means to have power," he whispers, nodding slowly, "I'll show you."
Sighing, I shake my head, playing with the wooden stake in my hand. "Well, this is taking a bit too long for my liking. Sorry for this, though."
With that, I take big, swift steps toward him, too fast to be of human speed.
The small glassbottle on the floor beside his chair would have been used once we needed to free him, to erase his memories, to leave a blank in his mind where his capture and his stay at the palace had been supposed to be. I guess I am forced to use it now.
Opening the lid, I tip the fluid down, just so it spurts right into his eyes, and he screams.
It is so loud that for a second, I wonder if I might have mixed up a banshee and mistaken it for a vampire, but then his eyes turn a dangerous shade of red. There it is.
"Fuck! I'll fucking rip you apart, bitch!"
"What were you doing in these woods?" I ask, holding his chin that drips with the poison.
For a split second, he blinks, like that event slipped his mind, even if it was where I captured him in the first place. So I remind him. "The blood forest. You were there. Heading toward the Nishimura Castle. Why?"
Agitation is not something I feel quite often, but I do now, when he does not answer me. "What were you doing? Answer me, or I will make it so much worse." I squeeze his throat in my hand, and he chokes.
The shade of red that could be mistaken for blood in his eyes slowly turns white again, and his head tilts, somewhat in pride, but also in defeat. "The vampire prince will be crowned. Tonight."
And a smile sets on my face.
FOUR HOURS LATER.
I wonder what my father would have to say about this. The wolves, especially the ancient ones—which he is a part of—are not to be messed around with. It does not even matter that I am his daughter and of royal blood, he would fucking kill me if he knew about this.
Well, hopefully not literally, because by what I plan to do, he will know.
Smiling at those who smile at me and glaring at those who do not is no problem, but getting past any of them without getting squeezed to death might will be.
And in case they push and make me push back, they will know I am stronger, much stronger than the average vampire. I cannot forget that even if they were to attack me, I would always have an advantage even if I was standing before an equal, I'd still have a weapon against them, because one bite from me will kill any vampire.
With that, I decide to dive into the crowd, roaming my eyes around in search of the king and queen, the princesses and the prince. Soon-to-be-king. Or perhaps not.
Perhaps the wolf princess is here to cause havoc on the prince's coronation ceremony.
Facing the vast assembly of people, I recognize how unproblematic it was to slip in. Despite the crowning of the new monarch, the vampires are not capable to protect their king, who stands amidst danger, since he is not crowned just yet. That only further shows what we all know, which is that vampires are not meant to work in packs, unlike us wolves.
They are so easily fooled. Despite me undeniably standing out, looking lost and a little mischievous, they have no idea that someone that was not supposed to be here, actually is.
When I blend in, lifting my chin and following the vampires, I come to realize that I have arrived a little late. Either that or Heeseung gave me the wrong time on purpose, hoping something would come in my way and I would miss the ceremony altogether.
Without me killing him afterward.
Well, unfortunately for him, the prince stands in the middle of the chamber to my right, his quiet words echoing across our ears.
"My dear people, today, we gather to honor a joyous event, this ceremony marks a historic event in our kingdom's existence."
He seems everything but stiff, his confident tone bringing a grin to my lips that I hope is not suspicious, but when I look around I notice that no one is paying attention to me either way.
They are all looking at him.
And I cannot say that I don't understand it. It is not only that soon, he will be king, but also that he is charming. I will not deny that, because he is. Apart from his speech, the prince has an unforgettable face and has something so captivating about him that it is hard to look away.
"As I now stand before you, clad in this elegant regality, I feel the utmost sense of pride and responsibility for my role as the nation's new leader."
My eye roll is hard to contain, but I manage. A ridiculous sight, a vampire pretending to care about anyone but themselves.
"Many moments of struggle, strife, and heartache have brought us to this moment where I stand before you all."
I would not be so sure.
"However, I shall not attempt to walk this path alone. I shall have you all by my side, to guide me and support me, as I make this transition."
He says that with such certainty, as though he might actually care. I guess vampires can both deceive and be deceived.
"Us, creatures of the night, let us join hands and embark on this new chapter together, one that is full of unity and prosperity."
Vampires and unity cannot coexist. That is a known fact, yet they all nod and believe his words so easily that it makes me wonder if they actually brainwash their folk.
Even though we are enemies from birth, meant and trained to kill each other, we have never actually met.
My family has kept me hidden since I could think, so much so that people know I exist, but they do not know even so much as my name. Therefore, I never got to witness how the prince looked like, how he grew and how he ticked.
This might be the reason why. Now that I see and hear the lies they tell, all I want is to rip it apart. To my family, it is no secret that I am driven by anger and by revenge, perhaps part of why they were afraid to let me show myself in the first place.
Everyone moves at the same time, raises their glass filled with red fluid that leaves no room to question where it comes from. Perhaps a single human, too, lying on the ground with blood pooling around them. Picturing it makes me tighten my fists, and it is only then when I realize I have made myself become conspicuous yet again, since I am the only one that has no glass raised into the air.
Fuck.
Hungry vampire eyes staring at me from every direction, and I wonder if I have truly fucked up and they'll either discover I am an outsider—since I was not even smart enough to ask my captive how the ceremony was going to go and how to blend in well—or if I can get away with this. Somehow.
In the midst of the chaos in my own head, thoughts filled with rage and hatred that is all directed at myself for once, I do something stupid.
I glance at the vampire next to me, glaring in my direction, and that's how I make my choice.
Grabbing his shoulder, I bury my teeth in his neck, but I do not rip the skin from his body, instead, I drop his now passed out body to the floor and lick the blood on my lip, nearly throwing up bile. I grin as I stare at the bloodsucker folk, who I have just tricked into believing I sucked another vampire out.
They cheer for me. The unconscious boy on the floor is forgotten by all.
For a moment, I think all is right. I have managed to fool them, they believe me to be one of them and I have decreased the chance of them identifying me as otherwise.
But when I look at the new king, he is not smiling. He stares at me weirdly, but not suspiciously.
I decide one thing in that moment, going against myself: I will wait. Until the ceremony is thought to be nearly over, I will wait, patiently. And then I will strike.
THREE HOURS LATER.
By the end of the ceremony, there are dead human bodies on the floor, the lives sucked out of them.
It is nothing new to see corpses discarded where it will bother none, though I can't deny that right now, it bothers me more than it ever has, for a reason I can't say. I have always known vampires were cruel—no less than us—and yet, I want to make them all eat my poison.
Perhaps it is exactly that. Perhaps I do not want to find any similarities between us, because that would remind me that while we are enemies, we are also alike.
A fact that I wish was not true.
After having taken care of the man I bit—which translates to having put him into an unguarded basement and let him rot—I made it my mission to focus on the king, find a weakness of some sort, even if I am not certain if he is stupid enough to showcare vulnerability in front of hundreds.
When I found none, I found my familiar anger returning to me. Once I find it to be stronger, with more force, I smile, knowing what's to come.
The moon is visible from here, nearing a perfect circle, fully luminated from where we stand. Just a few more minutes, and there will be no one alive at this ceremony, and no one—not even the king—will be left standing.
"You do not seem to enjoy the ceremony, darling. What is it that you don't like?"
I spin around and am fairly surprised to see the king in front of me, confident in his stance and an arrogant grin on his face, as though he might not be the king after all, or as if I am his friend.
His use of the nickname "darling" has no effect on me, and whilst I cannot roll my eyes—since I have to pretend to be an obedient little vampire—I can make him see that his charm does not work on every woman he blesses with his presence.
Putting on my best pleased face, I smile warmly, hoping he doesn't see through me and that I can act after all. "Oh, worry not. I am enjoying myself a whole lot. I have been the whole day, seeing you has been a true blessing, my king." I bow slightly, and he looks at me oddly, which makes me question if they are ever this polite.
Another thing that would make me appear suspicious.
But he only tilts his head, seemingly not noticing at all, and inspects my face. His gaze wanders, curious. When his thumb touches my chin, I am astonished. I have to force myself not to shy away, because no other woman would. This is their king, and he is all too beautiful, not a single one of them would refuse this.
Even if, were the given circumstances different, I would use the opportunity to come closer and bite hard.
"May I ask what you are doing?" I try and keep my voice soft, but by the way he looks at me, my eyes froze into a hard glare. That doesn't stop him. He has never had anyone reject his advances, and it so painfully shows.
"You may tell me your name." Unlike my question before, he does not ask, he demands. Spoiled little prince. Or king. "And then I might tell."
I feel my body changing.
The blood in my veins is pumping faster, my heartbeat accelerates, my head pounds. It's happening, and he is standing right before me, awaiting me to answer him. Everybody is still here, no one has left.
The kind of perfection you only find in books.
Full moon. What a terrible time to be crowned, and even more so not to consider an intruder during it.
Grinning wide, I know I've won. "It is truely unfortunate that we didn't get to talk before this, otherwise I would have told you. A shame, really."
He frowns, not understanding, but when his eyes widen in surprise, I realize he must think I am about to leave. Without having answered him. It comes as a shock that his mouth turns downward, as though a little upset.
How different. At least the last lesson he ever got was that it was possible to be stood up, after all. After all, I am a great teacher.
I grab the little container in my jacket and gulp it down, reducing pain and duration of the alteration. Just a few moments after I fall to the ground, I will be killing everybody in sight.
"Do not feel bad, Zee, you will realize that monsters do like to kill." My father had told a thirteen year old girl, scared for her life when she had killed her first human, even if it had been in self defense.
"I will never be a monster, Dad. I will never enjoy taking lives!"
What an unfortunate turn things took.
The king stares at the bottle, recognition lighting up his face, and then horror. He is about to scream at me, since vampires don't take anything other than blood, and then he sees my eyes.
"You're a werewolf."
For a second, I feel dizzy, but the commotion around me is impossible to ignore. They yell, they screech, they call for help. If one werewolf is here, they assume I did not come alone. There is nowhere for them to go, though, not anymore. The doors are already locked, every single one in this castle. They will not get past them in time.
"Don't get me wrong, yeah? More than for myself, I'm doing this for my family, you know? To end all of the rivalry between yours and mine. I'm so fucking sick of being trained to kill you when all it took was one fool of a vampire roaming around my territory." I giggle towards the end, drunk on the feeling of my bones shaking in my own body.
He turns bright red. "You're their princess. You're the one they warned me about all my life." His fangs are visible now, ready to bite. But his bite is not nearly as deathly as mine.
"Truly a shame, perhaps we could have been something like friends in another life." I giggle once more as I say it, letting him know that I don't actually mean my words.
I do not expect him to retreat so suddenly when I fall to the floor, bones breaking. The last thing I see, really see, are his eyes contorting in fear.
I groan in pain, and for a split second, I do feel sorry. It has always felt like an obligation to kill him, like I never had another choice. And yet, he had a certain time frame in which he could have attacked me. But he didn't.
Perhaps he doesn't feel the way I do, forced, or he just does not want to destroy me.
It is truly a shame we are meant to shatter each other by nature.
"You're a dirty little killer. Like the rest of us. It's what you are, so why would you fight it?"
The next few seconds are a blur.
As is the next hour.
And the hours after.
When I wake up, everybody around me is dead.
I cannot differentiate the vampire and human bodies as they lie next to each other on the ground.
There is not a single soul I did not get. Everybody is dead. No one was spared, but I feel so empty that I cannot smile. I do not feel guilty, nor do I empathize with any of them, but the satisfaction that I thought I would feel is being ripped away from me.
I wonder if it kicks in once I see the king himself dead.
My clothes are ripped, but in the places to cover, there is still enough fabric so that I don't walk around naked.
I step between the torn up corpses, a blank look on my face. Searching for a certain one, I grow frustrated when he is nowhere to be found. Until I realize one thing: I have looked everywhere but the throne room, where I had last seen him.
Whilst I feel like I am in a hurry, I do not run. I walk calmly, since I have no time to lose. Arriving at my destination, my eyes roam around the room that seems significantly different and torn up since I have last seen it.
And then I find the boy on the floor.
And register the sick grin on his face.
"You missed. Killed anyone but me. You should've sharpened your claws, darling. Unfortunate for you."
He stands, and in my head, I'm going through all the ways I am going to kill him now. Stopping in front of me, he puts his hand on my jaw. There's that look again. The king stares at my face again, now I believe he might just be trying to memorize my features, but that would be so stupid that I cross that idea right out of my mind.
"I knew you couldn't be a vampire from the first time I saw you," he whispers, so low that it might have been meant to be a secret, even though no one alive is around to hear.
"You were too beautiful to be one of us."
I cannot believe he is telling me this. Especially right after I killed the entirety of the empire he was supposed to rule over.
"And you're insane. Like, real fucking insane. How do you not care about anything?" I do not know why I ask, considering I do not even care, but then I glare at his wicked smile and the way his eyes light up the slightest bit.
He doesn't answer. Not to my question, at least. "All of my life, I have been told the daughter of the wolves—yes, that's your title—was a weak, ugly and arrogant girl. And now, I find out she is powerful, flawlessly gorgeous and definitely arrogant."
Before I can interrupt angrily, he continues. "So can't I enjoy this? Our rivalry is definitely over now, anyway. You won. Boohoo for me. I never gave a fuck about being the king, but I do care about finding out your name."
His confession of not caring about being king catches me by surprise. I thought he had seemed quite happy and definitely in his element when he was speaking to his folk earlier.
I should be killing him. I should be shredding him to pieces. But something about him not caring about being enemies from birth even closely as much as I do makes the fight leave my body. I swallow. "Zee."
With an interested tilt of his head, he asks, "Zee? What's that short for?"
"For Zeve. Nobody calls me Zeve." I grow a little uncomfortable mentioning that detail, and he does take notice, and the silliness of this interaction catches up to me once again. Why am I talking to him like this is totally normal?
"Call me Riki. Or your king. Or just yours. Whichever you prefer." He winks at me, and I roll my eyes dramatically.
"Pleasure," I return in the most bored tone possible, which gives me a snort, "but I do have to go back, otherwise they will find me first. So, it was nice, I guess. Sorry for the mess." I turn around, not awaiting an answer, until I hear howling.
"For fuck's sake."
"Uh, I am guessing that's not too good."
I grab him by the collar, sneering whilst I drag him with me. "You're so fucking observant."
Riki actually takes it as a compliment, and his cheeks flush a little. Or is that why? "Well, thank you. You're so quick to fall in love, darling. Let me catch up and I promise, the love story will be epic."
"Funny you say that when you're the one that keeps flirting with me." I push him into another room, into a shortcut I found when I was snooping around the castle, and I am thankful that werewolves can see so well.
"You make it so easy."
I end the conversation by not replying, and don't even know why I am trying to protect him, since I am dragging him into what I believe to be safety, and that if I were to give him to them—the werewolves—they would give me everything I wanted.
My folk would fall to my feet. They would not only serve me, they would accept me as their queen. They would bow to me. The wolves would be mine. I would have my empire, right after I had taken his.
The thought crosses my mind and lingers.
"Lost in your thoughts? You thinking about me? About how attractive you find me? I can read your thoughts so well," he snickers, and I smile genuinely for the first time.
He thinks it is because of his teasing. Poor, naive little prince. Not enough to be king, after all. As I walk, I am content with my choice of not having killed him. That makes this so much more rewarding.
In that moment, I do not even think about the guilt that will strike my chest.
"Come, let's get you out, Riki."
My friendly tone surprises him, and he shows me a happy smile, so much so that it is nearly giddy. He does seem to grow attached to me, and I cannot say that it makes this easier for me to do. The guilt sets in.
He's the vampire king. I am the princess of the werewolves. We cannot coexist, cannot be friends, nor can we live even slightly friendly alongside each other.
We have been made to take. We are monsters. If he had gotten the same opportunity—the one that feels like a betrayal to me even if we are sworn enemies—he would have done the same. He would have taken everything from me, too.
Right?
So it has to be done. I have no other choice. That's what I tell myself as I step out the castle with him walking in front of me. Trees rustle, and I am not enough of a moron to think it is actually the wind.
I keep telling myself that as I kick him to the ground with force, which makes him stare at me in utter confusion, and he opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off before he gets the opportunity.
"I have him! You can come out here, everybody else is dead!"
No other choice, as they come together in a circle around us, curious gazes turning into pure hatred when recognition hits.
No other choice, as I tell them that I caught him for them, like a trophy. The vampire king in possession of the werewolves. A victory that could never be forgotten, not in a thousand years.
No other choice, my mind tries to convince me when I tell them he is a gift, an offer, and most of all, a promise to enrich them with more if they swear to serve me and make me queen. My father looks so proud of his little girl, and he seems to not be able to wait to make me queen.
No other choice, when I tell them my only condition: keep him alive.
No other choice, once he is being dragged away and still screams my name for help.
No other choice, as he stops screaming when he realizes I was never truly on his side after all.
part 2 will be published soon.
I love you recent scenario with Niki, your way of writing is so lyrical !!
thank you! i appreciate you saying that ❤️🩹
THE SINGER'S BASSIST.
content bassist ! riki x vocalist ! oc, featuring guitarist ! jungwon and drummer ! sunghoon, he fell first and harder, it has always been you warnings profanity, assumed dirty implication sypnosis when the annoying bandmate that has always hated her suddenly starts to act strange around the vocalist of the band. wc 3.4k words
part one.
THE SINGER'S BASSIST.
"Sorry, I sang the wrong note. Let's try that part again," I say, biting my lip while I think about how dry my throat feels. Not only did I sing off pitch, but my voice nearly cracked.
"We've been having trouble crossing this part without problems, Zee. If we can't do it during the concert, how do you think we're going to manage?" The guitarist, Jungwon, says to me. He isn't trying to be mean, but it gets to me.
I take a deeper breath than intended. "Yes, I need to focus. I have no idea what's going on with me." Normally, there are no problems with my voice when I am singing this high.
"People are paying to watch you. Live up to their standards." Sunghoon, our drummer, is always the one who is able to make me improve.
The bassist to my side is awfully quiet. Perhaps he is bathing in the contentment he feels knowing I struggle. All I know is that he has been staring at me. The whole day—every day, actually. He always stares, likely waiting for me to mess up so he can laugh in secret.
Because he always laughs in secret, I know he does. Never to my face, like the coward he is, but always when I am not looking.
I do my best to not look at him at all, to give him none of my attention, none at all, but then I peek just one glance at him.
He's looking me right in my eyes, grinning evilly once I meet his, raising his eyebrows in challenge. What an asshole. How I despise him and his pretty face.
Ni-ki. The boy that hates me and, unfortunately, has a very, very pretty face. It makes it even harder to not look at him.
"Yeah, Zeve. Practice," he whispers wickedly, and those beautiful features of his turn into the devil's son's right in front of my eyes. Fucking bitch. He grabs for my wrist, but I swat it away, stepping away from him.
I remember times when I have barely known him, when I desired him and his touch, perhaps even loved it. Back when he didn't hate me for a reason I can't figure out to this day.
My nails dig into my fists, and I say nothing, knowing what he hates the most is when his words don't get to me—when I ignore them.
Once again, I take a deep breath. Then I start right over.
A DAY LATER, THURSDAY.
Being a university student and in a band at the same time turned out to be more stressful than I would have ever imagined. That is only due to the popularity we gained, though. We wouldn't push ourselves to this extent if there was no one who wanted to listen and cheer for us anyway.
Over the last year, ENHYPHEN has become huge. It all started with a song that I uploaded and that was only supposed to be out there for the fans, with no promotion, but went viral. People continued to listen until they found out we were an actual band.
And that's how it all started.
Now, we are having a concert that is happening in a few weeks, and I feel as though I am going to put on a disappointing performance.
If only I—
"My god, this girl is still asleep. Wake the hell up!"
I jolt in surprise, a frown on my face. I don't even need to guess who just interrupted my slumber. "I'm awake, asshole." Sending him my worst glare, I stretch my arms out, not helping my claim in any way.
"Thank fuck, I guess. You need to help me. Now." He way he says it makes it sound like an emergency. As if I would ever even help him. Especially if he just woke me up.
He stands and walks over to my side of the table, heavy with books borrowed from this library, grabbing my chin firmly and sitting down next to me. Lifting it up, he watches my eyes, appearing to forget what he was about to say, then remembering again. "You need to ... assist me with the work, yes?"
When I don't answer him, attempting to fully waken, his eyes go to my mouth, just for that one moment, then gone.
"Well, you certainly have a way to get people to do your stuff. Unfortunately for you, I can't help you with that." And then, I put my head down on the table again—or try, because my cheek meets his hand. How come I didn't realize how close he got? Either way, his hand is warm. My sleepy mind will not let me move, forgetting all about the guy I am trying to take a nap on.
"Zeve, I will force you if I have to. Don't make me. You hate it when I do."
I move my head, lips meeting his soft skin, sliding them across the back of his hand. Ni-ki moves as though a shudder has just gone through him. "Zeve."
Feeling his hand on my cheek, I give in and sit back in my chair. His ears are red, and I cannot tell if they were when he last made me look into his eyes. "What's with your ears?" I blurt out.
"What?" he nearly yells, getting up from his seat and bringing a hand to his left ear. Then, he grabs his beanie and pulls it over his head, covering the entirety of his ears.
I blink. "Okay," I whisper, confused.
"Anyway," he clears his throat, "let's get started now, shall we?" Ni-ki gains his composure and is looking at me exactly as he always does. Like he's challenging me. Messing with me. But just a moment ago, he seemed so flustered. And not just by anyone. By ... me.
A WEEK LATER, FRIDAY.
"We did well today, you guys. Sleep over, and tomorrow we'll practice harder than we did the past four hours. Let's give ourselves a break." Sunghoon is right, we should probably stop working without end. We deserve some time for just our band. To bond like people usually do, not through tirelessly practicing songs.
But Hoon's soundproof room in his house has been my favorite place ever since we started playing here. Before that, it had been my garage, and before that, Ni-ki's backyard, in which we could never be too loud because the neighbors would be complaining about the kids playing their music too loud.
When I turn, I notice half of my water bottle empty. I cannot remember drinking it all. How weird, I think. But then I steal a glance at the smirking boy beside me and feel like stabbing him.
"Don't drink my water, you disgusting shit! I don't want to have all your bacteria in my mouth!"
He raises his brow, looking at me funnily. "You're saying that, but secretly, you wish I put all of my bacteria down your—"
"Shut the hell up! Don't say that. Ever. Again. You little shit. Gross," I reply dramatically, a deep frown on my face. Ni-ki grins at me, his fingers going to my jaw, pouting as though he might actually be sad.
"Aww. Don't want me to kiss you? Scared you'll like it?" When he whispers that, one part of me wants to hit him, tell him that never, ever, would I let him. The other wants to surprise him, putting my lips on his, just so he'll have to live knowing he actually craves kissing me. Because I will make him crave it. And I will be in peace, knowing I do not feel the same.
"You wish," I only answer bitterly, knowing my ego is too big to kiss him first to begin with.
"Alright, you two, now that it's all solved, can we order food?" Jungwon asks, and for a second, I forgot me and Ni-ki were not alone.
He seems to have, too, turning his head in a surprised manner, showing me a perfect view of his side profile. Or, more so, of his ears—a glowing red.
"Please, I'm so fucking hungry," I hear Sunghoon say, grabbing his phone and mumbling about whether he wants pizza or sushi, but I drown it out.
Instead, I go to my room—which is not actually mine, officially, but is the one I always sleep in—and decide to change out of my tight clothes.
Roaming through the closet, I have a big, comfortable shirt in front of my eyes that I have never seen nor worn, with my black shorts that barely cover my thighs, but I often wear. I have never felt uncomfortable about revealing stuff to any of them, not even Ni-ki. They're like my family, like my brothers.
Well, except Ni-ki. Not him, the damn—
There! Shrieking with triumph, I grab out a white shirt, rather a jersey, and put it over my head in an instant. It's so soft, perfect to sleep in. I take a note to thank Sunghoon for having bought this (even if it was for him, not me) once I'm ready for Ni-ki to interrupt me when I do start talking.
With a smile, I trot into the living room, walking to the boys who are split on the couch and at the table. Ni-ki looks at me first. His eyes widen at the sight of me. What's wrong with him? I thought he didn't mind when my legs showed?
But his gaze is not on my legs. It is locked on my shirt. On the jersey.
Am I wearing the number of his least favorite soccer player or something? I turn to the mirror in the hall, perfectly visible from where I am standing, and realize.
10
Riki
Not his least favorite. Mine, rather.
Fuck.
"That's my jersey you're wearing, Zee." His voice surprises me. He isn't seeming to be messing with me. Right now, he seems rather shocked.
I ignore the fact that he just called me by my nickname, Zee, which he has almost never done before. Perhaps that is because we've always lacked the friendship aspect in our relationship, one way or another, but then I don't see why he is calling me that now.
"No shit." My hands to go my hips, thinking about what to do next. Neither Jungwon nor Sunghoon say anything, but I don't miss how they laugh when they catch each other looking at Ni-ki's face.
It's not hard to miss, considering how loud they are in unison.
"Uh, well, I'm gonna—"
"Keep it on. Don't stress over it. You can keep the shirt. I don't need it anyways," he says, the way he's looking at me so different from usually. Ni-ki sends them his worst glare, and I think I might be dreaming.
Now that I think about it, I have never seen him angry or annoyed. Ever. He isn't even in this moment, but it is the closest thing I will get to it. Which I am grateful for.
If I didn't know better, I'd think he wanted me to keep the shirt. His shirt. That if he needed it, he'd still give it to me.
Then it's good that I know he's not romantic. At all. Not in the least. Most of all, not with me. Why would he be? He hates me. He can't stand me. He never could.
He hates you, my mind tells me when I sit on the couch next to him. Don't forget that.
He hates you, I look to him, just once, actually smiling at his red cheeks. And you hate him too.
He hates you, even when he puts a hand on your thigh, caressing it like he might just like you.
My face heats up, and I think about how much I despise anyone having an effect on me. When the bell rings shortly later though, it is what saves me.
In my bed, my eyes are wide open. If I was asked why I am awake now, my mouth would hang open, searching for an answer in my head.
For a lie.
Why are you awake? I can't sleep.
Why are you awake? I don't know.
Why are you awake? I have no idea why I am.
Why are you awake? I am thinking about a boy.
"What boy?"
Jumping in my seat, I turn the chair to face the door. Ni-ki. He's here. Sitting on my bed. Meaning he has been here for at least 20 seconds. Which is about the timespan of all the answers I just gave.
His beautiful face is neutral, curious, but also knowing. Awaiting my answer, so patiently.
I will not give him the satisfaction of telling him that he has managed to get through to me, with ... absolutely nothing. He has done basically nothing, and I am already here, thinking about him as though I'm some sixteen year old girl.
This is all his fault. His flustered face and the thought of kissing him made me like this. The thought he put in my head to begin with.
"I ... I can't tell you."
Face stoic, he stands and walks toward me, determination engraved on his features. "Can't tell me?" he repeats, and weakly, I shake my head.
He kneels in front of me, never looking away from my face, making my heart swell and ache from how pretty he is. It feels good to acknowledge without fighting it. I cannot move from my bed. It feels as though he froze all my movements.
"Hmm. And what can't you tell me?" he asks again, but this time, he drives his hand under my blanket but over my clothes, on my stomach, then my waist, my thigh, driving his fingers across my body, featherlight touches all over my skin, making me feel dizzy.
"The answer to your question," I clench my teeth together.
"And why is that?" He explores my shoulders, my throat, my neck now, the sensation unbearable—I want to have my hands on him, too. Want to feel his body just like this.
"Because I don't want to admit how much I do like you."
The words hang in the air. The touch freezing, and I see a cautious thought behind his eyes. When those beautiful eyes meet mine, I've never wanted to kiss him more.
"Riki," I whisper, putting my hands on his shoulder and neck.
His eyes widen, just slightly. Similarly to how I have barely heard him call me Zee, I have never used the name Riki for him. In his presence. To him. Ever. I can't, for the life of me, remember how I went without calling him by his real name.
His hand covers my own on his shoulder, and when he leads me to sit on my bed next to him, I follow.
Putting both of his hands on my face, he searches my eyes for something. Wheels turn in my head as I ask myself what he could be looking for. My mind can't give me a single reason as to why this could possibly be unusual.
A big smile finds his lips when he looks down, at the shirt that belongs to him, on my body. "It suits you. You should wear my name more often."
"Why ..." I start, and hate myself for the whiny tone of my voice, "why are you like this so suddenly? You've never liked me." My statement makes the corners of his mouth curl up.
"Oh, my poor Zee. You have no idea how wrong you are." He lets go of me, but leans in so close that his nose touches mine, that his red cheeks nearly come in contact with my own.
"Do you even want to know for how long I've liked you? Would that be something you would be interested in hearing—you know, since you don't care about me at all," he mocks, eyebrows raised.
"How can you lie to me like this? And you would think it is the most obvious thing in the entire world that you have always only wanted to bring me down and to make fun of me and my mistakes and never even think to—"
Quite odd how fast things can change when you don't know what's happening.
Just one moment ago, I was angry at him, mad that he would use me like that, that he would so blandly tell those lies right into my face, and the next, his mouth presses hard against mine.
The breath is knocked out of my lungs. For a quick moment, I don't do anything but feel his lips move against mine, firm but soft. In the next, I have my hand on his chest and kiss him back.
He sighs, and I smile against his lips, feeling more satisfied every second and so, so different from just a few moments ago, when I was angry at him. Dizziness slowly clouds my mind. I've known him for years, yet I have never seen him kiss a girl, nor known if he's ever had a girlfriend, therefore it comes as a surprise that he can kiss the way he can.
Even if he would want me to, perhaps if it would even give him reassurance and would surely make him happy, I will never admit how much I like kissing him. But when you find out new things about yourself that you do enjoy doing, sometimes you wonder how you went that long without having done it, that certain thing.
He comes closer, puts one of my legs between his and the other to his right one, brushes a strand out of my face that touches his own, and I have no idea how he makes it feel like we have always been doing this.
Pulling away, he grins at me, looking to my eyes and then down to my lips, smiling wider when he meets my gaze again.
"I have liked you ever since we first met," he interrupts my train of thought, confessing his secret. Shocked beyond thought, I don't respond, I only stare at him, his red, swollen lips.
"If you knew how long I've spent thinking about this, what it would be like. So long to imagine all the different ways I could feel, and still, it can't compare."
My cheeks burn, his are also flushed, and I note how they feel warmer the longer I stroke my thumbs along them. What shocks me is that he actually lets me, that he doesn't protest at all and simply lets himself be touched, even enjoying it. How long have I shied away from his touch? How long have I let myself not enjoy it?
"Zee," he whispers, eyes heavy, and I give him a kiss to his jaw, feeling silly and oddly affectionate toward a guy I would have claimed to hate a few hours ago, before grabbing his hand and bringing him up with me, leading him to his room.
"What are you doing? Where are you bringing me?" he raises an eyebrow, looking at me as though I am somewhat unreasonable. My head can't find a reason as to why that could be, so I continue walking him through the corridors.
Along the way, we hear Sunghoon snoring. "Bringing you to your bed? You're tired, Riki. Hence, you need to sleep." I open his bedroom door, getting ready to leave, but he holds me by the waist.
Bringing his face close to mine, he attempts to get my full attention, and it works. Suddenly, I feel nervous. Riki looks so serious, seems so stern when he's sleepy.
"Why do you think I went to your room in the first place? What if I want to sleep with you?"
My eyes go the most wide they have ever been. "Excuse me?"
"Oh my God, I meant in your room, you moron. Ew. Who do you think I am?" His face contorts in disgust, though a playful smirk is playing on his pretty lips. "What a dirty girl."
I sigh, wanting to go back to my room when I hear his footsteps behind me, blabbering some more in his state of half-sleep. "And perhaps in your bed. I'm not a very great nap-on-the-floor-guy. Forgive me. But you're still dirty."
And I invite him into my room, then watch as he lets himself fall onto the sheets, unmoving as soon as his head hits the pillow.
During the night, in his endless moving and shuffling to find a good position, in a moment that in slumber, feels like a dream, he mumbles a name. "Zee."
my first post on here. this sucks, but i'll still write a second part.
Ooo, soft hoursss. What about Niki with a s/o who's love language is physical touch but he's not really used to that so every little thing they do makes him super flustered. Am I explaining this properly? Probably not. Do I care? Just a little. ╥﹏╥ (Also, if you do decide to do something for this can you make it gn or masc. I forgot whether you do male readers or not ᰔᩚ)
I LOVE THIS IDEA and it gave me a chance to write gamer bf!riki content LMAO ty for the req 🫶! honestly i think i write confident/cocky niki too often so this was fun jshdjd
10:42PM — “i need backup, they’re pushing on bottom!” your boyfriend shouts into his headset from across the room, the aggressive clicks of his mechanical keyboard bouncing through the bedroom.
you lay unceremoniously on riki’s bed, scrolling through social media and yawning every so often. normally, you’d probably complain that the boy should be giving you his full attention, but considering the two of you had spent all day together at the arcade, you decided to let him enjoy his little game for the remainder of the night.
however, this doesn’t mean you couldn’t get a little closer for moral support.
one of your favorite things about riki was that every time you initiated any kind of physical touch, he lost pretty much all his confidence and turned into a blushy mess. perhaps it was because he’d never been in a relationship before, or just because it was you (it was a mixture of both).
the way he’d quickly divert his eyes after a kiss and pretend nothing happened, or when you gave him a hug and he’d freeze into a rock hard statue never failed to amuse you.
you had a feeling that eventually, riki would get used to the idea that your way of showing love was physical touch and use it to his annoying, teasing advantage, but for now, you decide to savor the power you have over him.
“hello am i on mute or something? i’m literally the only one defending down here!” riki continues to blabber, lifting a hand for a split second to push away his black bangs before quickly returning them to his keyboard.
meanwhile, you’ve thrown your phone onto his side table, creeping up quietly behind the focused boy. your eyes glance down to his fingers that move swiftly up and down the keyboard, then to his torso attiring a plain black t-shirt.
his eyes meet yours for a millisecond before they’re back on the computer, murmuring out a ‘hi babe’.
with his big headphones on, you know he won’t hear your response. so instead, you pull his arm away from his keyboard to give yourself just enough time to slip into his lap, back pressed right against the comfort of his chest. riki becomes inert instantly, and the beating of his heart increasing drastically makes an amused smile rush to your face. you think you hear one of his friends yell at him, wondering why his character had suddenly stopped moving just as he has now.
but riki ignores them, pulling off his headset. the poor boy doesn’t know where to put his hands, awkwardly gripping onto his gaming chair’s armrest as he looks down at you in his lap. “wh-what’re you doing?” he gulps.
you gaze up at him with a raised brow, “is this okay? i can get off if you’re not comfortable.”
he quickly shakes his head in disapproval, even going the extra mile of placing his hands around your waist softly. “no i- i like it.”
“oh, you like it?”
he blushes furiously at your teasing, cheeks blossoming an apple red. “that’s not what i meant! i just- i don’t mind, i guess.”
you decide to not embarass him further, chuckling smugly as you get more comfortable in his hold. “keep playing, then.”
so he does. and over the next hour, riki gets more and more comfortable having you in his lap, even building the confidence to rub your sides and leave soft pecks on the top of your head everytime he wins a game.
“can you watch me play like this more often?” he requests quietly.
“like, in your lap?”
you already knew that’s what he meant. you just wanted to hear him ask again.
take (me) out
PROMPT: eating from each others plates
wc: 0.4k pairing: bf!riki x gn!reader genre: domestic fluff warnings: food
🧇: riki soft hours r open. once again. ty for requesting this!! i rlly like this one huhu pls dont flop 💔
maybe ordering takeout was a bad idea.
okay no, ordering takeout was good, just not when you order too much of it.
but in all fairness it was your boyfriends idea so hes to blame.
“baby i told you this would be too much for us.” you sulk, not very happy with the wastage of food. riki smiled at you apologetically.
he didnt mean to order that much but everything just looked so good he couldnt help himself.
“i know im sorry. but hey we can keep them as leftovers and i can come by after school tomorrow and eat it with you. hows that?” he leaves a peck on your cheek, not wanting you to be sad anymore.
the kiss surely seemed to flip your mood. you smiled, “okay fine. now lets finish whatever we can yeah?” your boyfriend nods adorably and starts stuffing in whatever he could eat, making you chuckle at the sight.
“baby calm down please you’ll end up choking on yourself.” you pick up a napkin and wipe the corners of his mouth, which was currently full of food but he was still smiling like an idiot.
after he swallows the rest of it, he picks you up from next to him on the couch and makes you sit sideways on his lap, one hand on the side of your thigh and one on your waist, a silly grin on his face.
“can i try some of your pasta. im bored of eating mine.” you can only roll your eyes affectionately and pick up a spoonful of food from your plate and feed the big baby.
“say aah” you giggle as riki opens his mouth wide and you spoonfeed him. he makes a hum of approval when he tastes the food article.
“now try mine. its really good too.” he picks up some of his lasagna from his plate and feeds you, kissing you on the cheek after he feeds you. when youre chewing your food he looks up at you in complete adoration.
“you like it baby? yeah its good?” as if talking to a small child.
if anyone else had seen the two of you, they would’ve seen how lovestruck riki looked while watching you. moments like these, he always treasured, you could tell it form his eyes. he looked so in love with you.
and he is.
send in a request 🕰️
Just thinking about having a sleepover with Niki and when the others come in to check on you guys, they see that Niki is spooning you with a tight hold and then when they are making breakfast, he’s back hugging you refusing to let go, not caring about the teasing his Hyungs are doing -🧋
love how we’re all in niki brainrot ,, ty for the req boba love hope u enjoy <3
9:18AM — sleeping over at your boyfriend’s dorm taught you that 1) he was not a morning person, and 2) you being next to him in bed seemed to make that fact even worse.
“jus’ a few more minutes baby, seriously,” riki mumbles into the crook of your neck, breath tickling your skin softly. even his leg was wrapped tightly over yours, preventing you from any route of escaping his warm embrace.
you sigh. as much as you love the affection, you felt bad for the boys working hard outside to prepare a meal without you two. “we should go help them, c’mon.”
as if he was listening in on the conversation, sunghoon bursts in at that exact moment, clapping his hands annoyingly loud. “times up, kiddos! food’s almost ready and it’s your turn to help out,” he announces, ignoring how the male in bed lazily attempts to throw a pillow at his face. “and niki-ah, jay told you to leave the door open by at least 3 inches last night.”
all sunghoon gets in response is an annoyed groan as riki attempts to dig further under the sheets, only for you to sit up and throw them off him moments later.
“sorry, we’ll be there in a minute.” you smile awkwardly, elbowing your boyfriend as the elder wishes you a pitiful ‘good luck’ before heading to the kitchen.
luckily, it only takes a couple more promises of attention later and reminders of all the delicious food outside for riki to finally get up himself, adjusting his white tank top and tangled hair before following you out the door. the boys all coo at your entry and offer sweet welcomes and greetings — completely contrasting how niki only gets a few aggressive pats on the shoulder.
“hey y/n, wanna take a turn flipping these?” jungwon gestures to the pan cooking pancakes with a sleepy expression, offering you the spatula with a grin once you accept.
everything was going swiftly; the once empty plate next to the stove now containing a tower of buttermilk pancakes, as well as sunoo’s hashbrowns being halfway done. it was almost suspicious how riki had left you alone for more than five minutes, but your confusion quickly went down the drain as two sly arms wrapped around your waist with ease.
“do you need something?” you mumble, trying your best to wobble over to the cupboards and get the syrup despite having another human glued to your back.
riki scoffs, placing his chin on your shoulder. “i don’t need a reason to hold you.”
you catch sunoo and heeseung roll their eyes with a smile, the other boys working around the kitchen only taking glances in surprise — probably because it was rare for riki to show his affection so openly, but you suppose it’s because he’s still half asleep.
“what?” riki catches their lingering eyes, hands caressing your waist gently.
jake smiles like a proud mom in response. “you two are cute.”
“aw, did you want a hug too hyung?” the younger fakes a pout teasingly.
“nah, i have jungwonnie here to give me hugs!” before the poor leader could protest, he’d already been scooped into jake’s playful arms, whining in annoyance as laughter fills the dorm’s kitchen.
you pat riki’s arm, craning your neck up to meet his eyes with a content smile. “guess you’re stuck to hugging me.”
“i think i can live with that.”
baby came home — n.rk
PROMPT: ‘that gaze–tired, soft, their thumb gently rubbing your cheek, noses touching, silently mumbling an “i love you"’ from list i.
wc: 0.4k genre: fluff/ comfort pairing: bf!riki x gn!reader warnings: none!
🧇: @tyunni for u my love. i love u and riki muah i hope u like it.
nishimura riki was a perfectionist.
weeks into your relationship, you realized how hard the boy was on himself. it worried you, really. you were beyond proud of him for how he is, and you hoped he saw what you saw in him.
so when he came home one day, not his usual happy but tired demeanor, you knew it was one of those days where he just needed words of love, and tight hugs.
“hi riki.” you whisper to him as he walks through the door. he looks tired, he looks disappointed. and you hate that he doesnt believe in himself.
he smiles softly at you, happy that at least youre the one thing right in his life. he throws his arms around you, placing his head in the crook of your neck. you bring your hand up to stroke his hair to comfort him.
you pull away to look at him. you can tell he’s trying to put on a smile for you.
“i made you something to eat. do you wanna eat now? or do you wanna talk for a while? we can do however you like.” you smile at him, caressing his cheek as he replies, wanting to talk to you about his day. it always made him feel better to talk to you.
the two of you moved to the couch, you keep him close to you, his arms around your waist and his head on your chest.
“how was your day?” you ask him. you dont even need a proper answer to know. pressing a kiss to his forehead, you wait for his reply.
he hesitates.
“it was .. alright i guess. i dont think i did my best today.” you feel the quiver in his voice.
he looks up at you, youre smiling softly at him. You move your hands to cup his cheeks in your palm.
“well, i think you did amazing today. i know i wasnt there to see you, but i know you did well. i’m proud of you riki.”
he lets out one, two, three tears at your words. you hold back your tears, wanting to be strong for him too. you press another kiss to his forehead. “im so very proud of you riki. I love you.”
he looks up at you, his gaze ; tired, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek, noses touching. you close the distance between the two of you, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. when you pull away, he pulls you back in, and you dont complain, molding your lips together gently.
He pulls away, after kissing you one more time, silently mumbling an ‘i love you’ against your lips, before connecting it to yours again.
nishimura riki might not think hes perfect. But you do. and hes more than content with that.
[no more requests please!]
OMGGG I CANT STOP THINKING ABT JOCK NIKI AND SHY TUTORRRR I NEED MOREEEEEE
WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THE MAKE OUT SESS IN THE LIBRARY I NEED ALL THE DEETS 😍😍
part 1 lol
PAIRING ! jock!niki x tutor!gn!reader
WC ! 800ish
WARNINGS ! smooching and u and riki being so so cute
a/n: I DIDNT THINK ITD BE THAT EFFECTIVE ON ANYONE HELLO?? IM HONORED OK ENJOY !!
niki pulls away from the kiss, chuckling proudly at the string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his. his right hand still rests on the back of your neck while the other grips the library table firmly. “and that one?” he inquires again.
you gulp, nervously glancing around the surrounding shelves of books. “it.. it was good..” as you mumble pathetically, you suddenly remember what you’re supposed to be doing. “..will you at least tell me what’s below the catella?”
he bursts into a disbelieving giggle, eyes crinkling into half-moons at your words. “all that and you’re still focused on tutoring me?” when you send him a warning glare (which he wasn’t phased by in the slightest), niki smirks. “the tibia.”
you nod, affirming that he was correct. “good job.” before he can do anything else, you swiftly stand to your feet and throw your belongings into your bag quicker and messier than you’ve ever done in your life. what made it all worse was that along with the piercing, hungry stare you could feel on your back the whole time, the taste of the boy was still fully on your tongue and lips.
“so thats it? gonna pack up and pretend nothing happened like last time?” he spits. you thought the jock was just playing with you — finding ways to make his ‘tutor sessions’ a bit more exciting — but you swear a hint of genuine frustration could be heard coating his sharp accusations.
you grit your teeth either way. “niki, this session ended ten minutes ago.”
tonguing the side of his cheek, he stands up himself while running strong fingers through his bangs. “and? fuck the session, i only care about you anyway.” you freeze. niki seems equally shocked, only realising his confession after another moment of silence passes.
“i..”
“look, i know your standards are too high for some fuck up like me so just- just pretend i didn’t say shit.”
it takes you a few blinks to process niki walking away, textbook and pencilcase tucked securely under his arm for you to hurrily chase after him. you pull the back of his navy hoodie with vigor, not taking another moment of hesitation before smashing your lips on his as soon as he stumbles around to face you.
he was the one to pull away first (which, for the record, had never happened before). “wh.. what- y/n?” niki questioningly stares down at you, a shimmer of hope reflecting in his pupils.
“i care about you too. i mean i- i think i like you, too,” you rush out.
his expression morphs instantly, a small beginning of a smirk forming as he leans against the nearest bookshelf. “i never said i liked you, did i?”
you frown, sending him a harsh glare. “niki.”
“sorry.” it was clear the male didn’t have much experience with such conversation judging by the way he scratched the nape of his neck, glancing off into space shyly. “so like.. i have a basketball game friday..”
“mhm..” you try not to laugh at his sudden change of attitude, edging him on with a nod.
“and if you wanna like- i don’t know, wearmyjerseyandcomewatchme or something.. i wouldn’t mind. and- and we can go eat somewhere after if you’re okay with taking the bus.”
you never imagined nishimura riki could be so cute, but somehow it brings butterflies to your stomach. “yeah, sure. that sounds good, text me the details?”
his eyes widen, mouth stammering as he takes in your response. "oh, uh- yeah, yeah i will.” pushing off the wall, niki only begins to walk away before he's quickly swivelling towards you again, rushing to plant a kiss on your forehead before taking off with promises of a text.
you nearly fail to miss the giddy smile on his face as he exits the library — not that you were any better with cheeks as red as your swollen lips.
one chance niki !!!!!!! ++ reblogs n comments r always appreciated if u enjoyed n want more pspsps
