reblogs are important so this blog will be of full support, here we will have all the stories I liked, if I reblog something of yours and I couldn't please send me a message, I don't want any misunderstandings i'm 20
Could you maybe do something where reader helps Riki with his sleeping problems?
Quad shot of expresso
insomnia! riki x reader
sypnosis: you are a barista at the local cafe and riki is your regular, hes been struggling with insomnia so u offer him some remedies, those worked, only for a while tho. however, your touch? works like magic on him.
warnings: flufff, angst, kissinggg
now playing🎧- coffee- beabadoobee
📍a/n: hiiii thank you for your requestttt, took a bit of time but i hope youll enjoy it!🤍 edit: this is my draft ahhhh
The sweet aroma of roasted coffee beans and hazelnut syrup usually filled you with a sense of calm, but lately, your attention had been entirely captured by a specific regular.
Ni-ki.
He was a dancer, and it showed in the fluid way he moved, even when he was completely exhausted. Every single afternoon, he would walk into your café, dark hair slightly damp from a grueling practice session, and order a quad-shot iced americano.
"You know," you said one rainy Tuesday, leaning over the counter as you handed him his cup. "Drinking a quad-shot of espresso at 4:00 PM is basically a crime against your sleep cycle. Aren't you worried you won't be able to sleep?"
Riki let out a low, rough chuckle, his long fingers wrapping around the plastic cup. "Bold of you to assume I sleep anyway. The caffeine doesn't change anything. My brain just doesn't have an off-switch after dance practice."
That was the day you found out about his insomnia. Feeling a sudden wave of sympathy for the exhausted dancer, you started researching. The next day, instead of just handing him his coffee, you slipped a small, hand-labeled brown paper bag across the counter.
"Chamomile and valerian root," you explained, smiling at his confused expression. "Steep it for ten minutes before bed. No sugar."
Riki blinked, a genuine, lopsided smile breaking across his tired face. "Are you prescribing me tea?"
"Consider it a barista's intervention."
That tea opened the floodgates. He came back the next day, claiming it actually gave him a solid three hours of rest. You exchanged numbers so you could send him a list of other remedies—lavender sleep drops, magnesium sprays, specific white noise tracks. For a couple of weeks, the remedies seemed to work. You two text constantly, and Riki started coming to the café not just for the coffee, but specifically to sit at the counter and talk to you during your slow shifts.
Slowly, those late-night texts and café banter turned into real, fluttering feelings. But the honeymoon phase of the remedies didn't last.
Soon, Riki was walking into the café looking more exhausted than ever, the dark circles under his eyes returning. The teas and sprays had stopped working. His body had adapted, and his stubborn insomnia was winning again.
A week later, you were browsing the snack aisle at the local grocery store after your shift when a tall figure suddenly leaned over your shoulder, dropping a bag of chips into your basket.
"You have terrible taste in snacks," a deep, familiar voice teased.
You spun around to see Riki, wearing an oversized black hoodie, looking tired but incredibly happy to see you.
"Hey! These are classics," you laughed, defending your choices.
Riki looked down at you, his dark eyes softening. "Hey... I'm having a movie night at my place. Mostly because I'm too tired to move, but I don't want to be alone. Want to come over?"
Ten minutes later, you were sitting on his living room floor, leaning against his couch. Riki sighed heavily, rubbing his face with his hands. "The treatments aren't working anymore. Nothing works. My body is just permanently wired and tired."
Looking at how stressed and exhausted he was, your heart fully ached for him. Without overthinking it, you patted your thigh. "Come here. Lie down."
Riki blinked, surprised, but his body was too heavy to argue. He carefully lowered his head, resting it right in your lap. He felt incredibly warm, his long frame stretching out across the floor. Slowly, you reached out and ran your fingers through his messy, dark hair, gently massaging his scalp.
"Close your eyes, Riki," you murmured softly. "Don't think about dance, or the tea, or sleeping. Just listen to my breathing."
Your fingers kept moving in slow, hypnotic strokes through his hair. Within ten minutes, the tense line of his jaw completely relaxed. His breathing slowed, becoming deep and even. He was asleep.
When Riki woke up, a soft beam of morning light was filtering into the room. He blinked against the light, realizing his head was still in your lap. Your hand was still resting gently in his hair, though you had fallen asleep yourself, your head tilted back against the cushions of the couch.
He stared up at you in pure shock. He had slept for six hours. No teas, no music—just you.
After that night, it became a regular thing. Whenever his brain wouldn't shut up, he'd ask you to come over, and the magic touch of your fingers in his hair was the only thing that could lull him to sleep. The feelings between you grew heavier, sweeter, but neither of you had dared to cross the line.
Until today.
You were working a busy afternoon shift at the café when Jake, a friendly regular who lived in your apartment complex, came up to the register. He was leaning against the counter, flashing a bright smile, playfully teasing you about a clumsy mistake you'd made the day before. You laughed, a genuine, bubbly sound, entirely missing the dark, intense gaze fixing onto you from a corner table.
Riki was sitting there, his knuckles white around his iced americano. Seeing you smile at another guy sent a sharp, agonizing stab of jealousy straight through his chest. Jake was handsome, outgoing, and clearly interested. A sudden, suffocating fear gripped Riki—the fear that he was going to lose you before you were even his.
That night, Riki tried to go to sleep without calling you. He told himself he was being selfish, relying on you so much. But the moment he closed his eyes, all he could see was you laughing at Jake's jokes. His chest burned with jealousy and anxiety. By 10:30 PM, his brain was a chaotic, furious storm.
He couldn't take it anymore. His fingers trembled as he grabbed his phone.
Riki: Are you awake? Please tell me you're awake.
Riki: I need you.
You had just clocked out of your closing shift, pulling your jacket on, when your phone buzzed. Seeing his panicked texts, your heart dropped. You didn't even reply; you just ran straight to his building, using your spare key to let yourself into his apartment.
The living room was dark, and Riki was pacing the floor, looking completely frantic, his hair a messy, tangled ruin from where he'd been gripping it.
"Riki!" you breathed, dropping your bag. "What's wrong? Why couldn't you sleep? Did something happen at practice?"
Riki stopped pacing. He looked at you, his eyes wide, dark, and vulnerable. "It wasn't practice," he said, his voice raw and cracked.
"Then what is it?" you asked, stepping closer, reaching out to touch his arm.
Riki pulled back slightly, his chest heaving. "Jake."
You blinked, completely bewildered. "Jake? The guy from the café?"
"He was flirting with you," Riki burst out, the words tumbling out of him in a desperate, jealous rush. "You were smiling at him. You laughed at his jokes. I sat there and watched it, and my chest felt like it was exploding. I tried to sleep tonight, I really did, but every time I close my eyes, I just think about him taking you away from me. I'm losing my mind, because I'm so exhausted, but I can't sleep if I think you're going to belong to someone else."
You stared at him, completely stunned. Then, slowly, a soft, amused smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and a small laugh escaped you.
"You're laughing?" Riki asked, looking deeply hurt and confused.
"Riki, you idiot," you said softly, stepping right into his space and forcefully grabbing his waist so he couldn't back away. "Jake is my neighbor. He has a boyfriend. He was teasing me because I dropped an entire gallon of milk yesterday."
Riki froze, his brain trying to process the information. "He... he has a boyfriend?"
"Yes," you murmured, looking up into his dark eyes, your heart pounding. "I don't like Jake, Riki. Romantically, I don't care about anyone else. Because I'm completely, entirely crazy about a stupidly stubborn dancer who can't sleep."
Riki’s eyes widened, the heavy storm of jealousy instantly evaporating, replaced by a sudden, intense heat. "You... you like me?"
"I love you, Riki. I thought that was obvious by the amount of tea I buy you."
A breathless, euphoric laugh escaped Riki's lips. Before you could say another word, his large hands cupped your face, and he leaned down, crashing his lips against yours.
The kiss was desperate, full of all the pent-up jealousy, relief, and deep affection he’d been harboring for months. It was a firm, sweet, and demanding rhythm that made your knees go weak. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as he groaned softly into the kiss, his grip on your waist tightening as if he were finally anchoring himself home.
When he finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Riki rested his forehead against yours, a massive, brilliant smile breaking across his face—the happiest you had ever seen him look.
"Good," he whispered, kissing the tip of your nose. "Because I'm never letting you go now."
He guided you over to the bed, pulling you down with him under the heavy duvet. Riki immediately curled his long body around yours, burying his face into your neck, his strong arms locking you securely against his chest.
You smiled in the dark, reaching up to slowly stroke your fingers through his hair, gently massaging his scalp just like you always did.
"Close your eyes, Ni-ki," you whispered.
"I love you," he mumbled against your skin, his voice already turning heavy and thick with blissful, peaceful exhaustion.
Within minutes, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest calmed down. Safe in each other's arms, with his jealousy cured and his heart full, Riki fell into a deep, dreamless sleep—and with your hand still tangled in his soft hair, you drifted off right alongside him.
invisible string theory — yang jungwon. acquaintances to lovers. high school au. slice of life.
inspired by that one line from glue song, “you’ve been hiding in plain sight, then appeared” (2.6k words)
The problem with having 60 students per classroom is you were bound to make a stranger to at least thirty of them. And for someone who doesn’t talk much, it was like meeting half of your classmates for the first time every morning.
You kept close to your circle of friends, just like everyone else did, and kept in mind where to make eye contact when your homeroom teacher announces a group activity. You liked working with the same group of people, so you held a pretty stable and balanced routine at school. Always sitting at the same seat, always staying in the classroom with your packed lunch during break time, and always riding the same train home.
Though, from time to time, a few anomalies would pose themselves to your perfectly lined scheduled—the rain always increased the time it would take to get to school, a predetermined group stands as a barrier between the people you know you work well with, and apparently Mr. Snuffles and his paws that had messed up your alarm clock. The culprit lays on your bed as you hurriedly rush around your room to get to school in time. You’re sure you could make it if the station followed the schedule of when the trains would depart. Preparing your lunch, however, would be impossible, and you would just have to stop by a convenience store before attending homeroom.
You disliked the canteen. Students lived off of crowds, an impossibly long line, and an even poorer selection of food than what you can find in a convenience store. It would take half of your break just to get food, and the rest of the half eating. It’s better when you can hold time in your hands in the classroom.
Opening the door to the convenience store, it was almost a relief to find it almost empty, save for a few students who were probably either getting breakfast, lunch, or a snack. When it was your turn to have your meal checked out, it takes you about 10 seconds to realize you might’ve left your wallet at home. And it takes even faster to confirm when you rummage through your bag and come out empty-handed.
Damn you, Mr. Snuffles.
You realize you didn’t spare the time to double check your bag when your sister had borrowed it over the weekend and probably put some of your essentials out.
Burden raced and dropped down your shoulders as you struggled to explain to the cashier if she could disregard scanning it in the first place. Though, you aren’t given ample time to get your thoughts across when money is handed to her from next to you.
He looks familiar, the boy with the short and a little disheveled hair. It looks pretty, falling over his forehead, like he came off a 90s magazine. He gives you a look, enigmatic almost, though smiling as he puts his wallet back in his bag.
“Thank you.” You spoke shyly, though he only grins, showing off his perfect white teeth.
“You’re (Name), right? I’m Jungwon, we’re in the same class.”
So that’s why he looked familiar. The only thing you knew about him was that he had a dog, had introduced him on the first day of class with a photo. Everything else, you learned from those around you; he was smart, taking most of the offered advanced subjects, he had multiple senior friends whom he eats with at the canteen, and he was apparently a great dancer.
“Ohh, I knew you looked familiar.” Your mouth parts in recognition. “Thanks again for saving my ass back there. My cat had messed up my alarm and I left my wallet so today’s just been a disaster so far.” You laugh a little at the tangent your schedule had gone off to.
“You have a cat?” Jungwon’s eyes light up, and you instantly pull out your phone to show him a picture. “This is Mr. Snuffles.”
“Mr. Snuffles.” He repeats softly, smiling down at your phone as he shows you his own lockscreen.
“Now I feel inclined to introduce Maeumi.”
“Your Maltese puppy, right?” He watches as you dip your head down to look at his phone, grin spread out prettily as you coo quietly.
“How’d you know?”
“You introduced him back during first day, I think.” Jungwon looks genuinely surprised that you remember, mouth dropping before he nods his head with the same soft smile on his lips.
“Well, since we’re heading the same way, do you wanna walk together?”
For an answer, you grin up at him and say a brisk “sure”, matching your footsteps with his as you walk up the stairs of your school together.
Conversation flies easy with Jungwon, almost too easy as you talk for the entirety of the short walk to your classroom. You discuss about your poorly functioning lockers, your plans for the upcoming Christmas break, and complain alike about the multitude of projects assigned to you for the first half of the school year.
“How’s your Biology project holding up?” The instant groan that leaves your lips triggers a laugh from Jungwon. Though, he should’ve been able to predict your reaction after previously just complaining about Ms. Hwang and her 20-page paper about cell division.
“I swear my head’s gonna explode if I read one more article about mitosis and meiosis.”
You whine as you walk through another flight of stairs, and his laughter continues to mix with your light-hearted complaints.
“No, same. My eyes were falling out while I was working on page 12 yesterday.” Jungwon’s hand brushes against yours as a group of students run by you, pressing his shoulder against yours and holding out an arm to make sure they don’t bump into you.
“Well, they look like they were in a hurry.” He only chuckles before peeling himself away from you. He gives you his full attention. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” You laugh, and he smiles at the confirmation.
“I can’t believe this is the first time we’re actually talking.” There’s disbelief in his tone as he pushes the doors to your homeroom open. “This was fun.”
“I’ll pay you back tomorrow!”
“There’s really no need.”
The bell interrupts your conversation, and you walk to your respective seats just as your homeroom teacher slips into the classroom.
+
You don’t meet Jungwon for another month.
After that conversation, you had both returned to the routines you had set for yourselves, and you go back to treating that day as a single anomaly in your perfectly curated schedule. Though, now you find your ears perk up at the slightest mention of his name.
Similarly, Sunoo’s confused by his friend’s sudden interest when your name had slipped past his mouth. It was something Sunoo had said in the passing, you were simply a side character in the story he’s narrating, yet Jungwon seems to put an awful amount of attention to that part of his story.
“Are you even listening to me?” A whine leaves Sunoo’s lips.
“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you were in the same club as (Name).”
“You know her?”
“Yeah… well not really. She’s my classmate, but we aren’t close.”
“Sounds to me like you have a crush.” He smirks, taking a bite out of his lunch before looking at Jungwon with an accusing eye.
“I do not have a crush. I was just asking!” Defensive. Just like he always is when he’s getting caught for lying. Jungwon knows better than to hide something from Sunoo.
“I literally just said (Name) passed me a paintbrush and you’re acting like she’s the main character of my story which, by the way, is ME.”
“I don’t have a crush.” Jungwon grumbles.
“Look, there she is right now.”
Jungwon’s head whips at an impossible rate, an impressive distance over time that Isaac Newton might as well have made a fourth law of motion. His head is craned, scanning over the cafeteria in search of you before a pin drops in his head and he turns back in shame at having been fooled by Kim Sunoo of all people.
Sunoo laughs, and Jungwon drops his head on the cafeteria table in embarrassment. “Wipe that stupid smile off your face.”
Though, despite Jungwon’s sudden interest, it still takes almost thirty days after your chance encounter for you to meet again at the same convenience store. It was another day to grab a small breakfast from the quaint store, and it looks like you had the same idea when the bell rings and Jungwon spots you already in line.
“Do you mind if I could wait in line with you? It’s getting pretty long.”
Your head turns at the sudden voice. Soft tones as always.
“Jungwon, hi! Sure.” You allow him to stand with you in line, and he curiously peeks down at the meal in your hands. The same lunch bowl from a month ago. “Don’t you eat lunch in the classroom? Did Mr. Snuffles do something again?”
“You can say that.” You chuckle. It’s endearing that he remembers.
And just like a month ago, you walk to class together. He waits for you by the door, only resuming his walk when you’ve caught up to him. “So the Biology paper?”
His eyes flicker to you when you laugh.
“Almost done, finally.”
“So, your head didn’t explode?”
“Thankfully not. I think I have Mr. Snuffles to thank for that. He enjoys just putting a paw on my hand as I work, though he is quite distracting. We even got him this little laptop toy so he’d stop stepping on mine.”
Jungwon smiles. “I’ve read about that somewhere, how cats imitate what you do or somewhere along those lines.”
“Does Maeumi do anything silly like that?”
“Well, it might’ve actually been my fault.” He holds onto the paper bag with your meals, fiddling with the paper. “I thought it would be cool to teach him to get the newspaper by walking her to the door and giving her a treat when she’d carry it back. Long story short, one morning, I found every paper from the street.”
You shake when you laugh, it’s something Jungwon has noticed. It’s breathy and full as you picture it in your head, and Jungwon brightens up at being able to make you laugh.
That morning, you learn of Jungwon’s own routine, just like you. Every morning, he walks to school and accompanies some kids from his neighborhood, dropping them off at the preschool before heading to school. It’s why he doesn’t have time to eat breakfast at home. He plays with Maeumi a little bit too, running around with her in the sun despite having just woken up. At school, he sits at the front and minds his own business, and he eats at the cafeteria to accompany his friends. It’s the only free time they share together.
It’s nice talking to him. You think it might be the first time in a while that you’re talking to someone outside your small circle, and it’s a little refreshing to be offered a fresh sight of the world around you. He thinks differently, the type of person that has something to offer for your personal growth, the type that casts a life-long impression.
So, as you near your classroom, your shoulders drop at having to say goodbye to him again.
You think it’ll take another thirty days to talk to him, but it turns out, as insane as Ms. Hwang is, you might owe a bit to her for pairing you and Jungwon up to do an errand for her. It’s something about the coming Science Camp your school holds, and the need to get signatures from a few teachers. You don’t know why she’s letting two high school students do her job for her, but you comply because you have no choice.
“The school always plans disastrous events. I remember our Freshman day, when they let us play those games, that was a whole thing in itself.” You mumble, holding onto the piece of paper and scanning over the list of faculty offices you have to visit. So far, you’ve successfully gotten five signatures out of twelve.
“I remember that! I played in the balloon game, and I was partnered up with a girl. My friends did not stop teasing me for weeks.”
“Wait, I played in the balloon game too.” You look up at him, eyes bright as you recall the memory.
“Don’t tell me.”
“Were you wearing a black shirt?”
“I was! What the hell!” He pulls out his phone to look for a photo of that day, scrolling through his phone before shoving the screen to your face. “That’s me!”
“Oh my god.”
You lock your eyes to his, and the two of you fall in shared laughter at the chances. You would’ve guessed the possibility falls at less than 1% considering the amount of freshmen students at the time, and the thought that Jungwon had been tied to you by some invisible string on that day is something so enchanting.
As if, since that day, you’d been tied together and were slowly inching closer and closer until this very moment years later.
“I can’t believe it was you! My friends couldn’t let me catch a break when I caught you before you could fall face flat.”
“Look, I’m not the most coordinated person. You put me in a game where people are out to pop the balloon tied around my ankle and you’re basically asking me to fall over my own feet.”
“But we won, didn’t we? Wasn’t I a good protector?”
“You were alright.” You tease, and he gasps dramatically in response.
“Go ask for the rest of the signatures by yourself.”
“I was kidding! I was kidding! You were the greatest protector of them all, I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” Jungwon smirks, though, he feels like he’s about to melt in a puddle.
“That’s better.”
The rest of the time gathering signatures are spent in conversation and laughter. Jungwon would’ve hated staying behind to do more work, would’ve complained about it in the group chat with his friends, but he finds himself enjoying it because he’s with you. It would’ve been hell if it wasn’t with you.
“I can’t believe we’ve talked more this past month than the last couple years.” You hold onto the straps of your backpack as you leave school together. The sun is starting to set, and the impatient moon peeks from afar.
Jungwon is almost open-mouthed when the sun hits your face like that. When you look back at him because he’s suddenly falling behind, eyebrow lifted with a smile on your face. He’s sure you know your hypnotizing effect, and you still have the nerve to act oblivious about it.
He takes a step closer.
“Do you maybe wanna grab a bite? It’s getting late, and I’m a little hungry.” His words come out hitched, and he’s punching himself over the very obvious nervousness in his voice–as if the way he looks at you isn’t obvious enough to how he feels.
“I’d like that.”
A few months later, Jungwon would ask you to be his and Mr. Snuffles would get all the treats he could possibly want for altering the course of your routine and allowing you to bump into Jungwon.
+
“Babe, you seriously need to stop leaving your wallet. I’m starting to think this is all a ploy so I’ll keep paying for your meals.”
“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly.
“I was kidding. I may have lost a couple won, but I got you out of it.”
God, you look so pretty
When you tell me that you love me
⋆˚✰ ݁˖⭑.ᐟ Where Sunghoon is just incredibly in love with his gorgeous, perfect girlfriend.
𑣲⋆ pairings - sunghoon x fem! reader
𑣲⋆ warnings - established relationship, pure unadulterated fluff, sunghoon is down bad, domestic relationship, wholesome
lemme know if i missed anything <3
𑣲⋆ TITLE IS FROM SELF-AWARE BY TEMPER CITY
𑣲⋆ eunnie's notes - can u tell I feel earth-shatteringly single rn? *loudest sigh ever* 😪
Sunghoon is exhausted.
All he wants to do now is go home to his beautiful girlfriend and eat dinner with her, then cuddle with her as they fall asleep. He hurries into the elevator to their apartment complex with that exact thought echoing in his head like a mantra.
Pushing open the door to their apartment, he smiles as he slips out of his shoes. He hears the pitter-patter of feet next, and his smile widens out of instinct.
"Hi, baby," you say in your soft, honeyed voice, and Sunghoon almost melts into a puddle on the floor. You're staring at him with that gentle affection sparkling in your eyes, lips curved into a pretty smile that shows off your dimples, dressed in an oversized shirt, unmistakably his, with the way it almost reaches your knees.
"Hi, princess," he says gently, tone soft in a way only reserved for you, as he drops his bag to the floor to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your cocoa moisturizer and something inherently you that makes his head spin.
You wrap your hands around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, nails scraping against his scalp gently. "Tired, sweetheart?" you ask softly. The touch sends a shiver through him. Your gentle fingers slide through his jet-black hair. That tiny sensation, the light pressure, the rhythmic movement, sent waves of comfort through him. It was so simple, so domestic; yet it unraveled that knot of tiredness in his chest. Sunghoon leaned into it instinctively, pressing closer to you like a cat seeking pets.
"Better now," he mumbles against your neck, and you chuckle, planting a kiss on the side of his head. "Go shower and come eat with me, darling. You took way too long, and I'm fucking starving," you huff as you push him back by the shoulders, but he refuses to move, whining against your neck.
"Just a minute more,"
"Go change out of your outside clothes, and you'll get all the cuddles you want, baby."
He pulls back from you reluctantly, a pout plastered on his lips. "Stop being such a baby, go change," you say with a laugh, pushing him towards your bedroom.
He walks out 15 minutes later in some sweats and an old t-shirt that probably needs to be thrown out. Hair still damp from his shower, he stalks over to the kitchen, where you're standing at the stove, probably heating up dinner.
He leans against the fridge, eyes trained on you, simply staring as you talk to him about your day. His eyes trace over the outline of your pretty face, the way your hands move about animatedly as you talk about a client who pissed you off, the way you smile when you tell him that the barista at Starbucks complimented your outfit, the way your velvety laugh rings out at your own jokes, quoting memes mid-conversation.
He loves this domesticity; coming home to you every day is the only thing that keeps him sane at work, knowing that he's going to go home to you, your animated talking, your random memes, your dulcet laugh, and your gorgeous face.
God, he's so in love with you, isn't he?
He doesn't realize when you've stopped talking, too lost in his own thoughts to realize that you're just staring at him in confusion, eyebrows furrowed together. "Hoonie? Where'd you go?"
Unable to resist any longer, he strides towards you, cupping your face in both his hands, "You are so beautiful, my love," he says in the most smitten tone ever, eyes sparkling with pure affection, mirroring your own.
It's rare for him to show affection so openly. He's always been a bit more reserved, but you can't say you hate this side of him at all. You flush in his hands, a smile spreading across your face, "Really?" you ask quietly, and he nods, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.
"Have I ever lied to you, Y/n?" he asks with a smile, hands leaving your face to rest on your waist, pulling you closer.
"Umm...yes, you have, Park Sunghoon. That day at the carnival, you said you had "epic shooting skills" and then proceeded to make me pay for five tries of that shooting game because you wanted to be an 'awesome boyfriend' and win me a teddy bear." You deadpanned, hand braced on his shoulder as he groans, "That was ONE TIME! COME ON!"
You giggle at his exasperated reaction, and Sunghoon's lips tug upwards on their own accord.
"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"
"Nope, never ever in the history of time. But, you got something out of it too..."
"What? You teasing me about it till my death?"
"That was the day I fell for your loser aura, Park Sunghoon, be grateful. Why do you think I kept paying for your tries?"
He laughs at that, a wide grin spreading across his face, fangs on display. "My loser aura? Are you saying you're in love with me because I'm a loser? Okay, ouch. Ya' think you know someone." He huffs.
You laugh at that, head tipping back. "Yes, Sunghoon-ah, I am in love with you because you're a loser. But you're my loser now, aren't ya'?" you say with a cheesy grin. Sunghoon seems to melt at that, the lovesick smile never leaving his lips as he cups your face again.
"God, you look so pretty when you tell me that you love me," he sighs onto your lips reverently, eyes shining with love and affection so deep you feel it in your bones. "I love you too, baby. More than you'll ever know," he says, the low timbre of his voice dripping with adoration.
That's when you know, you're going to spend the rest of your life with Park Sunghoon.
pairing. older brother's bestfriend!jay x reader
tw. age gap (both of you are adults)◞ getting caught◞ fluff◞ dumb and dumber◞ jay's lwk a shameless flirt but in a funny way obviously
wc. ± 500
note. HAPPY JAY DAYYYY ᯓ★ OUR RICH UNCLE'S FINALLY 24 WE CHEERED !!
your brother’s gone out to get snacks for movie night, leaving you and jay alone on the couch
the empty middle spot between the two of you, previously taken by jake slowly gets smaller, then it escalates— like it always does.
little touches that last too long. words that mean more than they should. it's risky but exciting at the same time like two kids playing hide and seek, trying not to get caught but giggling constantly
“you’re trouble” you whisper and he leans in slightly, voice dropping “yeah? you’re still here though”
your heart stutters.
“you’re my brother’s best friend” you say, like that’s supposed to stop him from grabbing your face and kissing you until the air is knocked out of you at any moment
“and you’re the girl i’m in love with” he replies
with that you two move closer...
and closer...
the door SLAMS open
“YO I FORGOT MY—”
everything freezes. world pause.
you’re wayyyy too close. jay’s hand is on your waist, the other cupping your jaw. your back is half against the couch.
jake stands there
staring
processing
“…oh.”
there’s a long. painful. deadly silence.
jay somehow, is the first to recover
“what?” he says casually, not even moving back. “why are you looking at me like that?”
jake blinks once. twice.
then—“YOU WANNA EXPLAIN??”
you immediately shove jay away “IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE”
jay scoffs “it looks like we were talking.”
“YOU WERE NOT JUST TALKING” jake snaps “YOU WERE LIKE—” he gestures aggressively, failing to form words “—THIS CLOSE??”
jay shrugs “personal space is subjective”
“JAY.”
“JAKE.”
you slap a hand over your face, cringing at the fact that you had just been caught. in that position. by your brother. “oh my god”
jake’s pointing his finger at jay like he’s about to throw hands “you. my best friend. her. my sister. this—” he gestures again, more violently this time “—ILLEGAL.”
jay rolls his eyes. “relaxxx.”
“RELAX??” your brother nearly chokes. “you’re telling me to RELAX??”
your boyfriend sinks back comfortably against the couch—he’s smiling. slightly. like he’s enjoying this
“we didn’t do anything,” he says as jake narrows his eyes “yet”
you freeze.
jay pauses.
jake gasps “YET????”
“okay—” you cut in quickly “that was taken out of context—”
“there WAS no context!” jake fires back “I walked in on a TRAILER for something I do NOT want to watch”
jay snorts
“THIS IS NOT FUNNY” jake snaps
“it’s a little funny” jay mutters
jake runs a hand through his hair, pacing now “i leave for THIRTY MINUTES—”
“twenty” jay corrects “you’re ten minutes early” he tsks
jake whips around “WHAT? SO YOU TWO CAN EAT EACHOTHER’S FACES OFF? WAIT—THAT’S NOT THE POINT. NO—ACTUALLY IT IS”
you groan “can you both stop yelling??”
they turn to look at you at the same time
“no” they say in unison
you sigh “i hate both of you.”
jay glances at you, smirking slightly “no you don’t”
jake gasps. “OH MY GOD???” a beat then— “nah nah nah” he walks over and settles between you two “i need to know what’s been going on behind my back. spill. now.”
honestly, jake’s secretly relieved that the boy u got together with was someone he could entrust you with— not like he’d ever admit that out loud anyway but oh boy was this gonna be a looong night
i'm SO late but I HOPE I CAN MAKE YOU GUYS SMILE WITH THIS ONE 😫
hiii!! idk if ur requests are open or wtv cuz my tumblr is lwk lagging rn sorry if they arent open tho!
either ot7 or just an individual member like being ur best friend but theyre jealous because you hung out with a boy that turned out to be your cousin
so sorry if i wrote this while ur requests are closed!
📁 2026.works. ╰ 📂 OT7 : SMAU! jealous!bf after seeing you with a ‘random’ guy
—. my reqs were closed when you sent that tbh djejf but it’s okay i still chose to write it cuz it was easy to write and fun. did it text format i hope you won’t mind!! thx for sending me your request, appreciate it<3
IN WHICH ── you think riki is annoyed with you because you talk to him too much, so you try to tone your talkative self down with jungwon's help—but riki doesn't like the sudden change in your behavior at all.
• close friend!ni-ki x gn!reader ── angst fluff crack friends to lovers profanity misunderstandings jealousy overthinking bsf!jungwon petnames (cutie) 21 screenshots. || 1 2 3
like && reblog if u enjoyed !!
author's note : ANDDD IT'S DONE!!!! hope u guys liked it heheheh
IN WHICH ── you think riki is annoyed with you because you talk to him too much, so you try to tone your talkative self down with jungwon's help—but riki doesn't like the sudden change in your behavior at all.
• close friend!ni-ki x gn!reader ── angst fluff crack friends to lovers profanity misunderstandings jealousy overthinking bsf!jungwon 18 screenshots. || 1 2 3
like && reblog if u enjoyed !!
author's note : bruh even jay is sick of the yearning that he had to talk jungwon about it smh smh omg these losers
Heeseung, his girlfriend, and their ability to fall asleep anywhere.
At first, it was small.
A member would walk into the living room and find you curled up on one end of the couch, Heeseung stretched out on the other—both asleep, completely unaware of each other.
Or they’d catch one of you dozing off in a chair while the other scrolled on their phone nearby.
It was harmless. Kind of funny, even.
“Again?” someone would mutter, nudging Heeseung awake while you stayed completely knocked out.
He’d blink, confused, hair a mess. “…What?”
“Why are you always sleeping?”
He’d glance over at you, still peacefully out, and just shrug.
Then it started overlapping.
It wasn’t just random naps anymore. It was naps together.
During practice breaks, the members would come back into the room expecting noise—music, talking, chaos—
Instead, silence.
And in the corner?
You and Heeseung.
Knocked out.
Sometimes on the couch, your legs thrown over his lap while his arm rested loosely around your waist, both of you completely out.
Other times… on the floor.
Literally the floor.
“Are you serious right now?” one of the members groaned, staring down at the two of you tangled together on the practice room mat.
Heeseung was on his back, one arm under his head, the other draped over you like it belonged there.
You were half on top of him, cheek pressed against his chest, using him like a human pillow.
Neither of you moved.
“…They didn’t even make it to the couch this time,” someone whispered.
It got worse.
They’d lose you.
Constantly.
“Where’s Y/N?”
“Wasn’t she with Heeseung?”
“…Wait—where’s Heeseung?”
Cue ten minutes of searching.
Only to find you both in the most random place imaginable.
Storage room?
Asleep.
Backstage couch?
Asleep.
Corner of the practice room behind the speakers?
Somehow asleep.
Once, they found you both sitting upright against the mirror.
Not even lying down.
Just—
Heads tilted toward each other, shoulders touching, completely knocked out.
“…How are they even comfortable like that?”
“I don’t think comfort matters to them anymore.”
Managers started keeping an eye on you.
Didn’t help.
“Stay awake, okay? You have rehearsal in ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
Five minutes later?
Gone.
Both of you.
One night, after an especially long practice, the members left the room for a quick break.
“You two better not fall asleep,” Jake warned, pointing at you and Heeseung.
Heeseung scoffed lightly. “We won’t.”
You nodded. “We’re fine.”
They came back six minutes later.
Six.
Silence.
“…No way.”
There you were.
Your head on Heeseung’s lap while his head rested on the wall behind him, one hand loosely gripping your sleeve like he needed to make sure you didn’t disappear.
Both of you?
Completely. Out.
“…I give up,” Jay sighed. “They’re actually hopeless.”
다니 ⦂ sorry this has been rotting in my drafts since october
LEE HEESEUNG
you’ve never been one for pda. heeseung knows that. he's used to the way you slip your hand from his when others pass by, the way you brush off kisses with a quiet smile. you’re usually cool, distant, never the type to show affection when eyes are on you. but tonight? oh, tonight was different. some girl was laughing a little too close, her manicured hand brushing his arm, and before he could even blink, you were there. “missed you,” you murmur, fingers curling around his jaw, tilting his face toward yours. your lips press against his. his hands find your waist instinctively, grounding himself because holy shit. when you finally pull back, he’s grinning, eyes half-lidded, voice low. “oh, you missed me, huh?” he teases, smug as hell. you roll your eyes, but your arm stays around him this time, tight.
PARK JAY
when you’re upset, it’s never loud. no raised voice, no sharp sighs like any normal person would. just that calm, steady tone that makes jay’s chest tighten instantly. he finds you sitting on the couch, legs tucked up, scrolling on your phone like nothing’s wrong, but he knows better. you’re silent, eyes glued to your phone, lips pressed tight. “princess, talk to me.” he’s already pulling you closer, his hand resting gently on your waist, his thumb rubbing slow circles. when you don’t answer, he kisses the top of your head, his fingers brushing through your hair, "please, baby, don’t be mad.” you finally speak, voice low, “you didn’t text when you said you would.” he blinks, trying not to smile, but his heart aches at how serious you are. he feels a rush of relief that it’s not something bigger, but that doesn’t stop him from being apologetic. his hand moves to cup your cheek. "won’t happen again, promise,” he murmurs.
SIM JAKE
jake’s eyes are locked on you, the rare, soft curve of your lips catching him off guard. you don’t smile much, but when you do, it’s like everything stops for a second. he freezes, his heart stuttering, and for a split second, he forgets how to breathe. he’s trying to play it cool, leaning casually against the wall, but his gaze is fixed on you like he’s trying to memorize the way you look when you smile. “god,” he mutters. he swears it's the prettiest thing he's ever seen, and he can't stop watching you. he leans in closer, voice low and teasing, “you know, princess, you should smile more. it's pretty on you," "don't tease me," you murmur, but he can't help but smile back.
PARK SUNGHOON
you walk half a step ahead of him, hands buried in your coat pockets, expression unreadable, eyes fixed forward. sunghoon knows better. he drifts close anyway. he doesn’t comment on it. his shoulder brushing yours, and casually hooks his pinky around yours like it’s nothing. you don’t look at him. you don’t slow down. you definitely don’t react. he smiles to himself. but you don’t pull away either. later, when he squeezes your hand and calls you his pretty girl, you let him (just this once).
KIM SUNOO
you’re quieter than usual, curled into his side on the couch, fever-warm and tired enough than you gave up pretending you weren't sick. sunoo frowns immediately. “look at me. you’re burning. you didn’t tell me you felt this sick,” he says, fingers already in your hair, brushing it back like it’s muscle memory. you mumble, “didn't want to worry you,” and he clicks his tongue. “that’s not an excuse. you have to drink water. and eat. and rest.” he cups your face anyway, thumbs warm against your cheeks. you huff a weak laugh, and he smiles like he’s won something. “sunoo,” you mumble. “mm?” “can you stay?" he grins. “always.”
YANG JUNGWON
jungwon’s leaning against the counter, arms loose, watching you like he always does. “you’re doing that thing again,” he says, stepping closer. . “what thing,” you reply flatly, not moving, just looking at him. he hums, crowding your space, hands sliding to your waist. “waiting.” you don’t answer. he leans in slowly, teasing, noses brushing, and you tilt your head just a fraction. he smiles and pulls back on purpose. "idiot." you grab his jaw with two fingers and pull him back into a kiss. he laughs against your lips, kissing you slow.
NISHIMURA RIKI
you’re both tangled in blankets, knees bumping, riki poking your side for about the tenth time. “move, you’re stealing all the covers,” he whispers. “cry about it,” you mumble, eyes half closed. he grins in the dark. “say it. say you love me.” you roll your eyes, deadpan, staring at the ceiling. “you talk too much.” “that’s not a no,” he grins. you sigh, barely audible, smooth like it slips out on accident. “i love you.” he hums, distracted, still teasing. then freezes. five seconds pass. “wait.” he props himself up. “what did you say?” you turn away. “nothing.” “no, no, repeat it,” you groan. “shut up and go to sleep, idiot.” he kisses your temple anyway. “whatever you say, love,” he smirks. this asshole.
— idol!han jisung x fem!reader in which, han jisung thought that you being a half foreigner in blood doesn't speak korean. so he started speaking the language to express his hidden feelings towards you, not knowing you could understand him all too well.
a/n: I originally send this as an ask thought to @kloversung if I am not mistaken. I started writing it up just to refresh my brain cause i have been working on a series and a event, and i think i need some rebooting of my brain. so here, for the meantime 😭. I know this is short, it was supposed to be just a little drabble, so bear with me.
word count: 1.1k words
Han Jisung is a very oblivious guy.
He takes things as they come, clumsy as he is, often stumbling through the simplest situations. Yet when it comes to music, his mind works in ways that go far beyond anyone else. Inside the studio, behind cameras and long recording sessions, he’s brilliant—focused, passionate, almost untouchable in his craft.
But outside of that world?
He’s just a soft, sweet potato of a person. Cute, warm, and very much cuddly. Maybe that’s exactly why you find yourself admiring him so much.
Jisung sometimes struggles to express himself properly, yet he always manages to find his own way to let out what he’s feeling. And honestly, you find that incredibly admirable. When he gets frustrated, he rarely lashes out. Instead, the only thing you’ll notice is a small hint of aggression in the way he moves or sighs—nothing too harsh, just enough to show what’s going on inside his head.
And of course, you let him be.
To him, it simply looks like part of your personality. He assumes you’re naturally accommodating because you’re a foreigner, someone trying to respect the way he grew up and the culture around him.
For what it’s worth, Han Jisung usually speaks to you in straight English. That’s how Felix and Chan communicate with you most of the time anyway. Even though you’re half Korean, the Aussie duo knows you prefer speaking English since you spent most of your life outside Korea. And being the considerate people they are, they always choose whatever makes you most comfortable.
That trait is something the youngest member of 3RACHA picked up from Bang Chan.
Jisung saw how Chan quietly looked after you, how he adjusted things to make sure you felt included. Somewhere along the way, Jisung decided he wanted to do the same. Unfortunately, his clumsiness—and his obliviousness—never really went away.
You had told everyone before that you preferred speaking English not because you weren’t fluent in Korean. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Your Korean was actually very good. Your parents spoke it at home all the time, so you grew up understanding it naturally. But English just felt easier to you. It flowed more naturally.
Somehow, though, Jisung misunderstood that. And because of that misunderstanding, he eventually started speaking to you in straight Korean whenever he wanted to say something he thought you wouldn’t understand.
Little did he know, you understood everything.
One morning, for example.
“아침 일찍부터 이렇게 예뻐야만 하는 건가요?” (Do you really need to be this pretty early in the morning?)
He had said it the moment he spotted you stepping out of your dorm early that day. You understood every single word. And it made you blush.
Meanwhile, Jisung simply assumed you liked hearing him speak Korean.
Sometimes he would mix the languages without realizing it.
“여보, have you seen the music sheet Channie-hyung lent me last night? I can’t remember where I put it.”
You had to purse your lips together just to stop yourself from smiling. Of course, Jisung noticed the reaction immediately—and it only made him feel proud of himself.
“I placed it in your room earlier,” you replied after steadying yourself. “It’s in the drawer of your side table.”
Other times, he would say things that made your heart do things you weren’t prepared for.
“나와만 함께 있어 줄 수 없어? 매번 질투나게 하잖아.” (Can’t you just spend time with me? You keep making me jealous.)
He would say it whenever you were hanging out with Felix more often. Each time, the words would twist your insides and leave you feeling strangely floaty and giddy. Meanwhile, Jisung simply interpreted your reaction as you being charmed by his Korean accent. Which, to be fair, wasn’t completely wrong.
So when he asked you to be his date to a small party celebrating I.N’s birthday and graduation, you didn’t hesitate to say yes.
And that night, you showed up wearing the most beautiful dress Han Jisung had ever seen. The words slipped out before he could stop himself.
“너 정말 예쁘다. 네가 내 여자친구였으면 좋겠다.” (You’re so beautiful. I wish you were my girlfriend.)
He said it softly, almost breathless. And just like that, you melted where you stood. Your eyes stayed fixed on him, warm and bright, a wide smile spreading across your face. For a moment, Jisung could only stare back, as if the rest of the world had disappeared and it was just the two of you standing there.
He only snapped out of it when he heard you speak.
“You know…” you began gently. “내가 한국어를 할 수 있다는 거 알지?” (You do know I can speak Korean, right?)
And just like that, his entire world stopped. The color drained from his face first before it rushed back all at once, turning his ears and cheeks bright red. You burst into genuine laughter at the sight. He looked like someone had just dropped him into a completely different dimension.
“W–wait—what?” he stammered, struggling to form proper words as realization slowly crashed down on him. His eyes widened.
“Does that mean you understood everything I said before?”
He sucked in a breath before covering his face with his palm.
“Spot on, king,” you teased, giggling as he dragged his hand through his hair before burying his face again.
“You should have told me!” he groaned. “That was so embarrassing!”
He crouched down, hiding his face in his arms like the world had just betrayed him. You crouched down too, lowering yourself until your face was level with his.
“It wasn’t embarrassing,” you said softly. “If anything, you were cute trying to impress me with your Korean.”
You tilted your head with a teasing smile.
“And to be honest… it worked.”
Jisung responded with a soft, dramatic whine, still trying to process the fact that he had unknowingly confessed so many things in front of you. You watched him for a moment before speaking again.
“And about what you said earlier…” You paused.
“I don’t mind. 네 여자친구라는 게.” (Being your girlfriend, that is.)
Jisung groaned loudly, dragging his hands down his face.
“Can you let me breathe for a bit first?” he whined. “Let me recover from the first one before you drop another bomb on me, 아이구!”
summary. making a fool out of himself in front of three thousand people on the regular sure never taught heeseung how to talk to pretty girls—a realization he only has when you (the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen) walk into his soul-sucking economics class and all he’s got in manpower is himself, his idiot friends, and a deeply unhelpful twitch chat.
pairing. streamer!heeseung x y/n
↳ ft jay, jake, sunghoon, and twitch chat
genre. college au, twitch streamer au, fluff, classmates to lovers
word count. 12.0k
disclaimers. heeseung-centric/pov, swearing, alcohol use, kissing/suggestive activities while drunk, smoking, some crudeness bc they're stupid college guys, pacing is highkey ass i'm sorry
released. 03.09.2026
author's note. this is a prequel to sparks but the events are slightly tweaked and can be read entirely as a standalone! my take on loser heeseung and the pinnacle of my streamer!enha career. i hope no one minds that it's told from hee's pov :( pls tell me all ur thoughts about everything!!
masterlist
any feedback is appreciated ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ᗜ<)
burgermuncher123: what fucking idiot streams their course selection
When Lee Heeseung goes live at a time of day that isn’t four in the morning, people fear the worst.
The most widely accepted explanation is that he was kidnapped because he “looked kidnappable.” Some propose that he must’ve been beaten up by those kids he was cyberbullying on Among Us VR a few days ago. Something, something, “Mr. Beast video”—the stream notification might as well have been a national emergency alert.
But as they flood into his corner of Twitch, everyone quickly realizes that their streamer was, in fact, perfectly fine.
There he is, in all his unassuming, wonky headset glory. The storage room he passionately defends as a bedroom is still comfortably barren, bathed in a cozy golden light by the morning sun that filtered in through the dented shutters—something softer on the eyes than the blinding white of his ring lights. His keyboard collection is tucked away in one corner, a bulky dehumidifier running in the other.
gopissgirl: Bro this fucking ragebaiter. look at his Stupid ass
mavuikasbikecanrunmeover: HE’S NOT DEAD!!!!!
xyz_: yo his bald spot finally isn’t reflecting the light peepoCheer
Heeseung cracks his knuckles. Twists his neck, then his back.
“Alright, chat.” A sigh from the depths of his soul leaves him. “We’re fighting a war today.”
It turns out the earth-shattering event that warrants a Heeseung stream at nine-thirty in the morning is his second-year course selection. Or, in more efficient terms, war—because if he had to spend one more second in the torture chamber that is Professor Jenkins’ circuits lecture, he will die in those trenches.
hoonbot: ARE YOU TAKING 12 COURSES HELLO
jeikeushim: i will NEVER regret switching to accounting
user14: why the fuck are u taking econ1130 man 😭😭
“Okay, okay, chat,” Heeseung hunches forward, elbows knocking into a crumpled Monster can before firmly planting on the desk. His hands are steepled, voice low and dead serious, as if he’s about to deliver the most unrivaled, undeniable justification for why he, an engineering student, is going to take Economic History in the Twentieth Century.
“Listen. I need to fulfill a breadth credit this year and Jay said the prof is super chill. Plus, I saw a guy on Reddit say this was a bird course. I’ll be fine.”
applesauceeater: oh this guy’s so Cooked
girlqueenpussyboss67: whenever sunghoon starts talking about coding i like to come watch u cuz it reminds me that it’s ok to be a little stupid in the head <3
“I like to come watch you because it reminds me that it’s okay to be a little stupid in the he—” A loud, indignant sputter. He pushes himself up, walks to the back of the room (“the gall,” the microphone manages to pick up) before sitting back down and scooting back towards the camera.
“Mods, ban the guy who said that. Also, ban the guy who brought up the bald spot I do not have, and ban the word ‘bald’ from my chat.”
Heeseung needs to kill Jay.
And that one guy from Reddit. And himself from two months ago.
Some would argue that he’s being too much of a hater barely a week into the term, but Heeseung can barely find enough fucks to give about this class at all, let alone question the ethics of his internal Death Note.
Circuits with Jenkins, Heeseung decides, was heaven compared to this. The classroom hadn’t been bad. Jake and Sunghoon had shared it with him, so he could spend his classes fucking around on Roblox Fruit Tycoon Simulator rather than paying attention. Sometimes, Jenkins would grace the class by rambling on about her ongoing divorce with her good-for-nothing husband. In retrospect, what had he been complaining over? Certainly nothing worse than this.
The Economics department holds its courses in one of the campus’ oldest buildings: a quaint, beautiful thing—Romanesque in its turrets and arched windows and brickwork. It’s a shame the outside is the only part of it that seems maintained at all, since Heeseung’s lecture hall seems a cough and two sneezes away from falling apart completely.
No windows, awful ventilation, sticky tables. The sound of the professor’s gnarly smoker voice. Heeseung laments about how he can’t enjoy the daylight he never enjoys anyway—and promptly decides to make it Jay’s problem.
Jay—who’d been having a steak burrito in the student commons between classes before being intercepted by Heeseung and cursed out so colourfully he’d have thought he’d killed his parents—blinks at his friend.
“Dude,” he says, more dumbfounded than anything. “Do you not background check your classes? Even a little? The economics building is straight dogshit. Everyone knows that.”
Heeseung wonders why his hands are still at his sides and not wrapped around Jay’s throat. “That’s not the point. You said that he was chill,” he seethes.
Jay takes another bite, voice muffled by the food in his mouth. “He is chill. Plays golf with my dad on Sundays at our country club.”
“He sounds like he chain-smokes twenty-five cigs a day. He calls everyone ‘kid’, but it’s, like, condescending. Not in a cool way like Brad Pitt does it.”
“Nothing to do with how chill he is, man. Besides, you’re lucky you only have to take an easy course and not something like econometrics.”
“I know you did not just say that to me of all people,” Heeseung grits out, having to physically restrain himself from making a colouring book joke.
A thinly veiled snicker, hastily covered up by a weak cough. “Well, you’re outta luck. Can’t drop courses until next week.”
“Whatever, I’ll just skip until then—”
“Go and I’ll give you fifty dollars for it.”
Unbothered by how Heeseung is gawking at him, Jay finishes the last bits of his food, crumpling the foil into a little ball. For all the pity he felt that Heeseung actually took the class he’d only recommended as a half-joke, he also felt a strong urge to make his friend suffer, to put it ineloquently. One of his eyebrows is slightly quirked, as if to ask if it was a deal or not.
God, rich people are freaks, Heeseung curses in his mind. On what planet does he benefit from that? What am I, his little show pony? This is ridicul—
“Deal, you son of a bitch,” he hisses, snatching his bag and storming out.
Making bank, Heeseung resolves, has to take priority.
Not that he particularly wants to indulge Jay’s sick, twisted wishes—but rather because fifty dollars is fifty dollars, and to someone like Jay, fifty dollars is a tissue to blow his nose with.
Three more agonizing lectures go by before the day miraculously arrives: the last time Heeseung would ever have to attend this godforsaken class. Never again would he have to hear a lick about post-war economic development or anything of the sort.
The lecture hall is still as dreadful as ever, though noticeably emptier than it’d been the first week, which Heeseung decides that he cannot wait to contribute to. He slumps into an empty seat (still uncomfortably warm from whoever was sitting here before him), slots his headphones over his ears, and prepares to mentally clock out for the next two hours.
Perhaps the universe is finally on his side.
Sure, having to be here at all is a huge drag—but for once, the walk to the Economics building hadn’t been polluted with the smell of chemicals from neverending construction. His Discover Weekly had refreshed and wasn’t ass.
And now, in a few hours time, he would officially be fifty dollars richer, spending his sweet new free time playing FIFA and fucking up a bag of M&M’s and—
Someone taps his shoulder.
Heeseung jolts at the touch, eyes sliding half-open. Despite half his vision being blocked by his hood and music blasting him towards deafness, he can vaguely sense a presence next to him. Figuring it’s someone passing through, he moves to pick his bag up from where it is at his feet—but the tap comes again.
One of his hands moves to pause his music, the other sliding his headphones off one ear.
“—cuse me, sorry. Is this seat taken?”
Heeseung finally bothers to look up, and—
Fuck. Oh, fuck my life.
There’s little that can phase a guy who accidentally ripped his pants on stream and made “BUZZ LIGHTYEAR BOXERS” the number one trend on Twitter for a full twenty-four hours. He’s seen it all, done it all—worn the maid outfit, read fanfiction of him and Sunghoon, the works. Figured he'd already been enlightened to the highest degree after watching Megan Fox in Jennifer's Body when he was fourteen.
So, maybe he should feel a little pathetic about how openly he's gawking, but he's far too busy trying to figure out if he's hallucinating the ridiculously pretty girl in front of him.
Lips pursed, you manage a small, nervous smile. Your head swivels to look around the lecture hall. “Um, if it’s taken, I’ll just—”
“It’s not taken,” Heeseung blurts out, as if his tongue had finally screwed itself back on. “It’s— no one’s sitting here, no. You can sit.”
Your eyes soften with relief, mumbling a quiet “thanks.”
Heeseung closes his eyes. Shuts them so hard that they start to hurt from the pressure and colours start exploding behind his eyelids. Anything to distract himself from how his throat is closing up because the prettiest girl he never even fathomed could exist had just knocked her knee into his as she's settling into the cramped seat.
So much for mentally clocking out.
The lecture hall quiets as the professor coughs into the mic. Lights dim, and a PowerPoint that was easily made ten years ago is projected onto the pull-down screen, crooked from the audience's point of view. Heeseung can feel the drowsiness from the warm, stuffy air threatening to pull him under.
Breathing in heavily, he’s ready to drown himself out again, but a whisper comes from beside him, making him stiffen. “This class has been going on for a while, right? Did I miss anything?”
He swallows, voice rough. “Uh, no. Just standard syllabus stuff… this guy drones a lot.”
A giggle, followed by a sarcastic sigh. “Read his reviews so my hopes aren’t high. But it’s required, so what can you do?”
Your elbow is propped up on the seat arm between him and you, jaw cradled in the palm of your hand—just shy of brushing against the fabric of his hoodie. “I would’ve taken it in the winter term, but there was one person in a group chat I’m in who said he was ‘super chill’, so he can’t be that bad, right?”
Heeseung could kiss Jay on the mouth.
For the remainder of the lecture, the two of you are silent. You’d since slipped on a pair of clear-framed glasses, perched on the slope of your nose as you diligently take notes—while Heeseung’s trying not to piss himself every time you tuck a loose lock of hair back behind your ear in the corner of his vision.
When noon hits, the lecture hall rumbles with noise again as everyone is filing out. Heeseung from literally two hours ago would be bewildered by his current self still being in his seat rather than having already sprinted out the door.
“I never caught your name,” you say, cutting through the noise. He can hear your voice clearly now that you aren’t whispering. “I’m Y/N.”
He wets his lips. “Heeseung,” he manages.
“Nice to meet you. I’ll see you around?”
“Y— Yeah.”
Heeseung does not drop Economic History in the Twentieth Century.
He'd spent a good ten minutes logged into his student portal—the 'withdraw' button he'd been so ready to press staring him down as if daring him to even think about it anymore—before closing out of the tab. Admitting defeat.
Which means he doesn’t free up any time in his schedule to play FIFA, nor does he get fifty dollars from Jay (despite his negotiations that he’d technically fulfilled what he’d been asked to do).
All he really got out of this ordeal was unsolicited emotional turmoil over a girl he’s had barely half a conversation with.
Two full days have passed since he's met you, and not once had you strayed from his thoughts for more than a few minutes. In all honestly, he's can't remember exactly what your features look like from off the top of his head—but he remembers that you had outrageously pretty eyes and hair and a sweet lilt to your voice that makes him want to tear his hair out. The feeling you'd caused to stir in his chest lingers, stubbornly refusing to leave.
heeshings: alt revived bc my streamer got action. we all cheered
washingmachine42069: Yo you talk to women ?
Heeseung groans loudly, hands dragging down his face. “You don’t get it, chat,” he fake sobs. “She’s so fucking pretty. Like—”
Shooting up, his arms wave around as he attempts to defend himself. “—I literally sat down, ready to honk, shooo, mimimimi pass out, and then I feel this tap on my shoulder. I’m like ‘bro, who the fuck is this’. I turn my head and boom. I'm at the pearly white gates. It's God. I saw God—I literally entered heaven. You guys wouldn’t drop the class either! Stop pretending you would!”
user8: based on how you’re reacting to this i can tell u had No game
jayparkk_ ✔: respond to my msgs
jayparkk_ ✔: shouldn’t u be thanking me licking my shoes or some shit i literally locked u in for life
“‘I literally locked you in for life’ you didn’t lock me into shit,” Heeseung grits out, pointing an accusing finger at the webcam. “All you’ve done is made it so I have to keep going to these fucking awful classes.”
jayparkk_ ✔: aint no one forcing you into anything lil bro 😹😹😹
rima_ovo: “all you’ve done is cause a gorgeous woman to enter my life” my steak too juicy. my lobster too buttery. We need to kill this guy
xddd111: dw bout it we’re gonna manifest her for you KEEP YO CHIN UP KING 💯💯💯
The aged playground swing creaks as Sunghoon settles into it.
“I thought you dropped that class,” he comments, offhanded.
Perhaps it's a bit concerning—and sad—for three grown men to be loitering at the local children's playground at one in the morning. Even the stray tabby that likes to wander around the area is giving them what could seriously be a stink eye.
But Heeseung had been throwing so egregiously in Valorant that it was making Sunghoon rank down, so the latter had to put his foot down and stage an intervention.
Heeseung's quiet from his spot in the whale spring rider.
His lanky form is folded up in the small space, chin perched on his tightly drawn-up knees. Frigid air chips at his cheeks as he stares at no particular spot on the ground. “I was going to. Jay was even gonna give me fifty bucks for it—” neither Jake nor Sunghoon comment on how that makes no sense, “—But I raise you this: pretty girl.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “You didn't drop the course that made you want to kill yourself because of some eye candy?” he asks incredulously.
Jake snorts loudly, fishing a pack of cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans. Flicking the top open, he slips one out with slender fingers. “Hoon, haven't you been eye-fucking your stats TA for weeks now? Don't think you're reaaaaally one to talk.” —to which Sunghoon shamelessly ignores.
“First of all, speak on her with some respect,” Heeseung retorts. “She's not just eye candy. Have you considered that she had a good impact on my mental health? Exhibit A: I don't want to kill myself when I think of that class anymore.”
“Man, if this girl is as great as you make her out to be, you gotta shoot your shot or something,” Jake says, voice slightly muffled. “Cig?”
Heeseung declines. Lighting a flame, then taking a drawn-out drag, Jake continues: “'cause you can't just sit around on your ass all day, hoping she'll pick you if you ogle her stupidly enough.”
“Fuck off, I wasn't gonna do that anyway. Either way, literally what business do I have shooting my shot? I don't know anything other than her first na—”
“Y/N L/N,” Sunghoon's drawling cuts through the air.
“Philosophy, politics, and economics major. Wants to go to law school. Transferred from Hanhwa Women's College. Sister's...” he squints at his screen. “—sister's a big shot lawyer downtown.”
Silence. “How the fuck did you do that?”
Shrugging, Sunghoon plucks the cigarette from between Jake's fingers, bringing it up to his own lips. “Not hard. Here, want to see it again?”
He taps around on his phone for half a minute or so. “Jason's seeing Charlotte Kim. The volleyball one.”
Jake shoots up from where he's been lying on the ground, several woodchips stuck to the back of his hoodie. “He is?”
Sunghoon pulls up a photo on his screen, which Jake immediately snatches into his own hands. “Yeah. He's your neighbour, dumbass. How the hell do you not know this?”
“Dude, I've been crashing at Lambda recently 'cause Minjun's on exchange, so his room's empty. It's fucking sick, Ren's girl makes the craziest Belgian waffles—”
The sound of a car horn blares through the quiet of the night, causing a flock of birds to flee from where they'd been nestled in the trees. Heeseung's gaze snaps over, squinting as Jay's familiar figure locks the sleek convertible before slinking up to the group.
He's baffled at the sight. “The fuck are you guys doing?”
“Therapy,” Jake calls out, shaking the cigarette pack in the air. “Cig?”
Jay takes one, catching the lighter Sunghoon tosses his way. “I saw you guys on 360. You know you look really fucking weird, right?”
“We, gang. If we went down right now, you'd be part of it.”
Heeseung's hates how Jay turns to him with a gleam in his eyes.
“Listen, Heeseung,” he starts. “I know you already sorta owe me your first-born child for being the best wingman ever, but since I'm so gracious—I have a plan, and on my balls it's going to end your bitchless streak.”
Planting a solid hand on Heeseung's shoulder, he says, with all the seriousness in the world: “You've gotta talk to her.”
The three of them stare at him in complete silence, broken only by the woodchip Sunghoon chucks at the back of his head. “Shut the fuck up, dude. You're pissing me off.”
Jay hisses, shooting a scathing glare at Sunghoon while rubbing at the spot he'd been struck. “If you'd let me finish,” he snarks, turning back to Heeseung. “You've gotta get her to warm up to you. Be proactive. Women love that shit. But only if they like you.”
“And what if she, I don't know, doesn't like me?”
“That's what the talking part is for, idiot. You've gotta gauge whether she fucks with you or not. She's friends with Chaewon, so I can even help you on that front. Then, if she seems sorta into you, invite her to the Lambda party.”
Heeseung blinks. “You want me to win her over by talking to her and then inviting her to a frat party?” he sputters. “Who am I, Jake?”
“Do you want to become co-president of the eye-fucking club with Sunghoon and expect her clothes to magically be on the floor?”
Another woodchip is aimed at Jay's head, which he manages to dodge this time—only for another to fling square into his forehead, this time from Heeseung.
“Ow!” Jay yelps. “Fuck's your problem?”
“I'm not trying to fuck her, dickhead.”
Jay gives him deadpan look. “What I mean is that the bar's in hell. You've gotta raise it at least a little.”
His gaze is determined. Unwavering. Freakishly inspiring. It has Heeseung nodding along, despite not knowing and, frankly, being scared of why. As if a weird seed of motivation was planted inside of him, growing, snowballing.
Jake's cigarette is on its last legs. He's about to let it drop and snuff it out with his sole until it's snatched out of his grasp by Heeseung, who hastily presses it between his lips.
A rough inhale. Nicotine courses through his thrumming veins. A calm exhale.
He nods firmly. “I'm going to do this.”
Slam.
The wood of his desk is cold against Heeseung's forehead. “Chat, I can't fucking do this.”
Something might have genuinely possessed him last night, because whatever speck of conviction Heeseung had about getting to know you was nowhere to be found the second he woke up that morning.
He's been spiralling in a whirlpool of preemptive humiliation and despair since—so much so that he went live with the stream title “FUCK MY STUPID BAKA LIFE!!!!!!”, which his mods, fearing the wrath of Twitch's Terms of Service, lovingly re-titled to “heeseung girl crashout #2”.
Jay accompanies him this time, sprawled out on armchair at the back of the room. Legs propped up on an ottoman as he plays Geometry Dash on his phone.
“I don't know what you're freaking out about,” he says wryly, not looking up. “Plan's not flawless, but it is flexible.”
“She's gonna think I'm a sleaze!” Heeseung exclaims, dropping his face into his hands. “I'm gonna fuck up my shot before I even have a chance to shoot it!”
Setting his phone aside, Jay crosses his arms. “Alternatively, she might be into you and think that you're not into her because you're not doing anything about it.”
ikeuekeu: TRUTH NUKE
xx_gamer42_xx: my brother in christ how are u gonna get a golden ticket and be too much of a pussy to go into the chocolate factory
The last message is read out by the text-to-speech, sending Jay into a fit of howling laughter, having to muffle it against the nearest cushion he can grab onto. Heeseung hardly manages a weak “shut up” that sounds lame even to his own ears.
He lets his eyes close, expecting respite. Reprieve, even.
He sees your face instead.
An aching groan rumbles from his lips. “Fine, fine! I'll do it!”
user12: any updates on the girlfriend arc ?
“Fuck.”
The sharp curse flies out of Heeseung's mouth as he watches his Valorant agent fall to the ground, shot dead. He cards a hand through his hair, murmuring a low “52, Chamber” into his comms before letting his gaze flit over to his vertical monitor.
“'Any updates on the girlfriend arc?'” he scoffs. “Is that what we're calling it?”
At that moment, a notification pops up on his phone—a small ding that vibrates against his desk.
Heeseung flips it over in his hand. The blue light of the screen reflects in the sheen of his eyes. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth, the faintest trace of a smile threatening to appear.
shinramyeo_n: IS THAT A SMILE I SEE
jakelikestobake: oh my god bruh my streamer's the Rizzler
Heeseung has never, in the history of his existence, ever been this indecisive.
After fucking around the whole summer after first year, he put hardly two thoughts worth of deliberation into choosing which branch of engineering he wanted to major in. Only went to one showing when he was apartment hunting because “as long as there's an ethernet port and I can run 144 Hz, it's chill.”
Yet, he's on the path to the Economics building—a walk he's made way more times than he expected—for the sole reason that he might hit it big and catch a glimpse of you again, and he's been stuck in a never ending push and pull the entire way there.
Passes the construction site that's started up work again. ('Jay's a— a no nonsense type of guy. Straightforward and logical. Isn't he trying to bag a job at McKinsey or whatever? He's good at this solution-giving shit, right?')
Stops at a wooden bench in front of a courtyard fountain, burying his face in his hands. ('Who am I kidding? Jay? Jay made his LinkedIn in ninth grade! He doesn't have a soul—')
Eventually, Heeseung manages to back-and-forth himself into the threshold of the lecture hall's northernmost entrance, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans as his eyes scan down the rows of seats.
('Alright, well. Didn't instantly see her the second I stepped in so my life's over. Time to lea—')
A hand waves at him from three rows down.
Face lit up with recognition, you turn around in your seat, whispering something to your friend before waving him over a little more energetically.
Heeseung's breath catches as he spots you. Several thoughts are whirling around in his head (the most coherent one being slight confusion about how you still recognize him). Panic seems to keep the soles of his feet glued to the floor—until they're suddenly moving.
“Heeseung, right?” A smile graces your lips, small but warm. “Do you wanna sit? I was originally saving this seat, but someone—” you shoot a playful glare at the girl next to you, “—has an interview she has to leave for.”
He vaguely recognizes her as Chaewon, one of Jay's friends from high school. She's looking at him knowingly, head cocked to the side—a look he conveniently doesn't meet.
“I...” He dares to peer into your eyes for a half a second. Doesn't catch the slightly optimistic glimmer in them before already looking away. “...Yeah, sure. That'd be great, thanks.”
Class goes by relatively similarly to the first time he met you: in sum, you're actually paying attention to the lecture while Heeseung does anything but. It's only at the end where, rather than leaving, you're still hovering next to him.
Waiting for him, he slowly realizes. “You're staying behind?”
It's the first time he sees your expression shift into something more timid. “If you're free—” you start, “—would you wanna come to the library with me? I have some things to work on, and... I'd like the company.”
It's noon on a weekday. Sunghoon would probably be at the library, slaving away at whatever computer science assignment currently had him shackled to the wall. If Heeseung, God forbid, runs into him at any point and he sees him trailing behind you, there would be a clowning in the group chat like never seen before.
And, sure enough, about two minutes after he walks by a Sunghoon-shaped figure slouched at a bureau, Heeseung feels his phone start to buzz violently in his pocket.
You tilt your head to the side, lips quirked in a teasing smile. “Popular much?”
Embarrassed, he chuckles dryly, silencing his phone with a swift click. “I wish.”
Heeseung's friendship with you is a simple one.
Uncomplicated in a way that, despite the two of you not doing too much actual talking, puts him at ease—a boat drifting on a calm wave. He's never been the type to try and fill dips in conversation by piling on more, but he'll still feel the weight of it—whereas with you, you'll simply be studying, spinning a pen between your fingers and humming a soft tune under your breath, while he tries to peek at you as discreetly as possible.
Silence with you is comfortable.
Then, when momentum builds (“I've gotta go. They're having tryouts for the moot court team in half an hour.” “...Wait—” “Hm? What's up?” “...I've got a ton of physics work to do. Uh, so I'll probably be locked up in the library for the rest of the week, haha.” “Then... then I might join you sometimes. If that's okay, of course.” “Yeah, yeah, no yeah, that's okay. Feel free.”), conversation weaves itself into the space between you.
Heeseung learns that you transferred here from the women's university across town on a scholarship. Your sister had gone here for law school, and you, wanting to do the same, figured it give you the best chance if you did your undergrad and built a network here.
All very academically diligent things that Heeseung, to put it frankly, couldn't really resonate with—but he likes watching your eyes glint as you talk about it. You're determined, he knows that much.
He learns that you're quieter than he'd assumed, based on how readily you spoke to him the first time you met. A bit clumsy, he realizes as the two of you trudge to the nearby shawarma truck and you occasionally bump into his shoulder. He has to pretend like he isn't holding his breath each time you do, and when he finally swallows his nerves down, he manages to puff out his chest enough to tease you about how you “can't walk in a straight line.”
It's sweet, he thinks. You're sweet.
fluffydogpng: someone clip this RIGHT NOW
0148593: hardstuck gold 3 but there's a pretty girl in his dms so maybe we're the real losers in this scenario 💔💔💔💔
The notification is from you. Some create mode reel that you're losing your shit over.
It's stupid. So stupid.
Eyelids drooping, Heeseung reads through it a second, then a third time, before finally flipping his phone back face-down.
Jay's gritting his teeth, trying to ground himself as the muscles in his upper body sear with heat. Two beats goes by—then, he forces himself to push the barbell upward from his body, finishing the last rep in his bench press set.
Metal clangs against metal as he deposits the bar back into its hooks. A gruff sound is drawn from his throat. He stays lying down, taking a few moments to catch his breath before his eyes dart to Heeseung, who's hovering over him.
“That's it? Just classes and the library?” Jay huffs out.
“Pretty much.” Heeseung leans his weight against the equipment. “Food, sometimes.”
Slowly sitting up, Jay unwraps the black wrist straps bound around his wrists, just to wrap them around again more tightly. “Okay, she's clearly not disgusted by you. Invite her.”
“I don't want to, man. She doesn't... seem like the type. She really cares about school.”
“What, so she's a nerd?”
Heeseung kicks him in the shin.
A loud hiss of pain. “I was kidding,” Jay mocks, trying (and failing) to swat him back. “This isn't a teen movie from the 2000s, dumbass. You think that just because she cares about school, she's not gonna want to go to a party? Look at Hoon—those aren't mutually exclusive.”
He gestures for Heeseung to toss him the G Fuel bottle at his feet. “Think about it. A party gives you an excuse to dress real fucking slutty. She'll be yours by the end of the night.”
“Do you ever shut up?”
Jay clicks his tongue. “There's no harm in inviting her,” he emphasizes. “If this goes anywhere, she's gonna eventually find out all the stupid shit you do on the internet anyway. I know you want to 'get it right' or whatever, but if a party is what turns her off from you then it's only doomed from here on out.”
A sigh from the depths of Heeseung's soul is pulled from him. He rubs at his temples as an attempt to clear his mind, even if just for a brief moment.
“Did Chaewon say anything?” he eventually asks, voice quiet—not really sure what answer he's looking for.
“Nope,” Jay says, popping the 'p'. His back collides with padded leather as he lies back down. “Something about 'not tossing her to the wolves'. Says you're an open book, though.”
“Oh, fuck my life.”
Everyone knows that the voices in your head clock in each night at nine o'clock to make you go through a micro crisis where you become increasingly miserable about your life. Usually they don't get to Heeseung until really, really diabolical hours—but apparently, when it comes to you, he can barely last a few.
(11:02PM) HEESEUNG: had a quick question
The slices of moonlight that pour into the room through half-closed shutters are the only thing preventing Heeseung from wallowing in pitch-black darkness. One arm draped over his forehead, he scowls at the sent message like it personally offended him with its lameness.
“Who am I fucking kidding,” he mutters to himself.
But just as he's about to unsend it, a small, green dot appears next to your name. His thumb pauses mid-motion.
His heart starts to speed up when he sees you've read the message.
It plummets to his ass when he starts getting a call from you.
In Jay's rundown of seven different possible outcomes that Heeseung forced him to give, not once did he mention you calling him would be involved. He's half-delirious, voice shot to hell after his earlier stream with Jake and Sunghoon—and the girl he has a massive crush on chooses now, of all times, to call him for the first time.
Holding his phone in a death grip, Heeseung represses the instinct to fling it across the room like a hot stone. He prepares himself. Clears his throat. Lightly smacks himself a few times.
He uses a shaky finger pushes accept, phone then hastily pressed to his ear. “Hello?”
“Heeseung?”
Your voice is soft. Somehow melodic through the static of the line. A gentle stream of freshwater.
Heeseung's eyes flutter shut as it washes over him, subconsciously pressing the device harder against the side of his head.
“Hey, I saw your message. I would've replied, but the thing is my hands are sort of occupied. Hope this is okay?”
Slowly, Heeseung rolls over in his bed to lie on his side. It takes a moment for him to find his voice. “No, yeah, it's fine. You're busy, then?”
“No, not busy. It's just that I just did my nails, so they're still drying.” A breathy laugh leaves you. “What's up? Is this about this week's homework?”
“Oh, it's—” A feeble cough. “It's nothing important. I was actually wondering if you, uh, wanted to come to a... party. This Friday,” he says, cringing at how the words feel on his tongue.
The small 'oh' you let out makes his stomach churn, but it doesn't carry displeasure more it simply does surprise. “What kind of party? Like a frat party?”
“Yeah, a frat,” Heeseung mumbles, fidgeting with the loose thread of his blanket. “It's at one of the better known ones. Lambda Delta Nu. I don't know if you've heard of it— I know some of the brothers...” he trails off. “...This Friday's the first one of the year, so it's gonna be really big, I guess.”
You're quiet for an uncomfortably long time.
“You don't have to—”
“No, no, I've just— God, you're gonna think I'm lame,” you laugh wryly. “I've just never been to one.”
Heeseung blinks, before a grin unknowingly appears on his face. “Why would I think you've been to one? You went to an all-girls college.”
“I don't know!” you whine. “I didn't do anything in high school, either. Do you like, bring your own drink? Do you have to pay to get in?”
“No, they have drinks. And girls don't.”
“That's... shameless.”
“Tell me about it.”
Suddenly, a loud, incessant vibration comes from your end. Even Heeseung, with his questionable track record of emotional cues, can pick up on the frustration in the sigh you let out. He cautiously prods. “Something wrong?”
“No, I'm just getting a call from my mom,” you say, tone not as light as before. “I've gotta go, sorry. But I'll be there.”
A small pause. “Good night, Heeseung.”
Heeseung's fingers twitch. His heart clogs his throat.
By the time he finishes dwelling on whether to tell you 'good night'—the words already forming on his lips—you've already hung up the call.
The weight of his leather jacket—Jay's leather jacket, technically, that he'd forced him to wear—is heavy on Heeseung's shoulders.
Even though the party doesn't properly start for another forty minutes, a considerably large swarm of rowdy, half-drunk college students have already accumulated on the house's front lawn, lining up to get in.
Nothing out of the ordinary—Lambda Delta Nu always kicks off the ground with a big, flashy rager. Heeseung can only wrinkle his nose at the thought of how crowded and sweaty it'll get later.
Beer case in hand, he skips past the line, approaching the low, rickety folding table stationed at the foot of the porch. Jake, who's supposed to be helping handle payments, is quite glaringly not doing so—instead sitting backwards atop the table, the neck of an empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers.
“Drinking on the job?” Heeseung deadpans, lightly slamming the case down on the space right next to where Jake is leaning back on his free hand, making the latter startle.
When he turns around, Jake's face splits into a grin. Notoriously lightweight, his cheeks are already flushed a pale red. “I'd personally call it multitasking,” he drawls.
Launching himself up, Heeseung swiftly hops over the table, making his way up to the house and greeting the guys he recognizes along the way. Jake tails along behind him.
“I wanna do some crazy shit tonight,” he says, the scheming evident in his tone. “You gonna match me shot for shot?”
The kitchen island is decked out with all sorts of drinks—beer, liquor, soju, seltzers, coolers, fruit juices. Heeseung's gaze travels over the labels, landing on a Smirnoff Ice.
It opens with a satisfying crack. “Can't. Haven't finished the programming problem set yet.”
Jake stares at him. “Are you deadass?”
“You think I want to be?” Heeseung counters. “Does Minjun have a working PC in his room?”
“I mean, yeah, he does. Wait, so you're going to spend the night doing a fucking problem set?”
“I was busy with stream earlier. I'm basically already done. I'll play one game, go up, do it, and then come back down. It'll take like twenty minutes, max.”
Jake, being familiar with Heeseung's working pace, is thoroughly unconvinced.
Heeseung can't blame him—on any other day, he would be unconvinced too—but today, he would force himself power through.
Because you would be here.
Earlier in the day, you had sent him a voice message (that he replayed an embarrassing number of times) asking him when you should get there, if there was a dress code, and a small catalog's worth of other questions.
You sounded nervous, and he was so, very endeared by it.
Which is why he's so determined to finish his work, submit the shit half-assed if need be, and then come back down. He already isn't fond of the idea of getting to know you at a musty frat party, so he's resolved on at least trying to be a good host.
Fuck, why did he care so much about your opinion?
“Yo, Lee Heeseung! Get your sexy ass over here!” One of the frat brothers, Ren, hollers from beside the beer pong table, echoed by Jake's cackling in the background.
A year older than him, Ren roughly throws his arm around Heeseung's shoulder, messing up his hair as if he were a little kid. “You ready to get shit on?”
“Pfft,” Heeseung scoffs, tongue poking the side of his cheek. “Give me the fucking ball.”
Heeseung's drunk.
He's tipsy, to be more specific. Not fully drunk, but definitely on the way—and far drunker than he expected to be at this point in the night.
In his defense, it had been the game's fault. The opposite team had gotten lucky with a streak of successful shots that kept him stuck in position, so now he's about four shots (give or take, he hasn't been keeping count) deeper than he'd like to be. A guttural groan is ripped from his chest as another one lands in a cup, drowned out by sound of multiple slaps on his back and the cacophony of people yelling 'shot!' over and over.
“No, no, fuck off, I'm done for now,” Heeseung says semi-coherently, a lazy grin on his face. There's a shot cup that someone's trying to thrust into his hand from every direction. “Fuck off to hell, all of you.”
Deafening music—some shitty rap song—blares through the air, slightly fuzzy at the edges. It thrums through every single one of Heeseung's nerve endings as he drags himself out of the living room.
If someone told Heeseung that half the fucking city was in the Lambda house right now, he would fully believe them without hesitation.
Every inch of property is flooded by people. Some choose to lounge by the pool in the backyard, some chat with their friends in the kitchen. Some choose to swap spit in the most absurd corner of the house. The air is hot and clammy and smells heavily of cigarette smoke.
“My hair's gonna smell like this for days,” he groans to himself.
Heeseung nearly misses the staircase under the mountain of people piled on top of it. There isn't a single fuck in his body he has left to give about all the sweaty people he's pushing aside, his sole objective just to drive through the throng and get to the second floor without being trampled.
The sooner he can get up there, the sooner he can finish his work. The sooner he can finish his work, the sooner he can go back down and get hammered and find you.
You. Fuck, he’d gotten distracted.
You’d gotten here earlier, didn’t you? He should probably text you.
A chipped banister is Heeseung's saving grace, acting as leverage for him to haul himself up the stairs. Soft, erratic pants escape him when he makes it to the top, body bending at the waist as he leans his weight against the wooden railing.
Nearly the whole first floor can be seen from up here. Heeseung's eyes idly scan the different rooms, taking note of certain things—like how Jake's shirt is now off, Jay's drinking with some of his friends from high school, and Sunghoon's hogging the entirety of a couch to himself with a girl stretched out on top of him.
When they break apart so he can trail sloppy kisses down the side of her neck, Heeseung makes eye contact with him over her shoulder.
He cocks an eyebrow, as if to say: That's her?
Sunghoon promptly flips him off.
Snickering, Heeseung pushes off the railing to leave.
The house's bedrooms are all located along a lengthy hallway, decorated with painted oil portraits of the frat's original founders and framed photos of prior generations of brothers. Dragging himself further down, Heeseung tries each of the doors to find the one with a fucked up lock, knowing that one would be Minjun's. Eventually, he finds it at the very end of the hall, pushing into the room without much grace.
Minjun's room is actually nice, to his credit—minimalistic, sleek black walls, accentuated by silver grey details. A flag of the Lambda Delta Nu letters hangs from the dark oak bed frame, next to a hockey jersey slightly dusty from going unworn for a while. Heeseung recognizes some of the miscellaneous things (namely stray clothes) he knows belong to Jake that are scattered around the room.
Then, to top it all off, the lights are switched on, suddenly plunging the room into a deep shade of red.
He snorts. LEDs? Really? Is he fifteen?
Whatever. It doesn't matter. He has all the time in the world to flame him for it when he gets back from Barcelona.
Gingerly, Heeseung peels the weighty jacket off, the leather having begun to stick to his skin. It's draped over the back of the desk chair, leaving him in a white cotton tank top. The air hitting the bare skin of his arms and chest causes a shiver to run through him at the sudden drop in temperature.
He takes a moment, letting clean, smoke-free air circulate through his lungs, before steeling himself.
Heeseung realizes very quickly that trying to code while tipsy fucking sucked.
What he thought would only take twenty minutes to do absolutely does not take only twenty minutes. Trying to parse through walls of code is hard enough sober, let alone with his brain fighting for its life through the dense fog that had settled over it from the alcohol. The only words that leave his mouth during the process are a litany of 'fuck' and 'shit' variations grumbled under his breath each time the code doesn't run properly.
But if there's one thing that studying engineering does for someone, it's teaching them to accept that their fate is doomed from the start—so he tanks the grade, submitting the shitty code just so he doesn't have to look at it any longer.
Heeseung exhales a long-suffering sigh. He had sobered up a bit, having fished a rare water bottle from Minjun's mini fridge that is otherwise entirely filled with Red Bull and soju. The edges of the chair dig into his back as he slumps against it. His right hand aimlessly palms around on the desk, gripping his phone when he feels its boxy shape.
There's a text from Jay, he muses. Several texts.
(11:52) JAY: Yo where the fuck r u
(11:52) JAY: Y/n's looking for you
(11:53) JAY: Tell me Jake isn't serious is your bitchass actually doing homework rn
(11:53) JAY: Do u want an award for being virgin of the year
(11:53) JAY: I sent her ur way
(11:53) JAY: I'm actually going to beat the shit out of u
Heeseung's brain short-circuits.
He's suddenly very conscious of how much of a mess he looks like right now—probably dead to the world, eyes bloodshot from staring at dense code, hair sticking up in a hundred different directions from how many times he's run a frustrated hand through it.
Meeting you in frat guy's bedroom at a party he invited you to probably looks really bad on his part. What if you came up and he ran his mouth? Scared you off? He shouldn't have let those fuckers shovel shots down his throat. He had to fix his hair. Wipe his sweat. Kill Jay—
There's a soft, hesitant knock at the door.
Heeseung freezes.
His heart beats four counts before he calls out hoarsely, “Come in.”
Hinges creaking, the door is carefully opened from the other side. Your head slowly peeks in, uncertainty marring your face. It relaxes with relief when you register that it's actually him in the room.
“Oh, good,” you breathe out, finally pushing into the room. You're clutching a solo cup in one hand, phone in the other. Your skin shines with a light sheen of sweat. “I was really worried that I was gonna walk in on people fucking.”
If you had looked anymore carefully, you'd notice how Heeseung's Adam's apple bobs up, then down.
The music from downstairs gets noticeably more muted. Or maybe turned off entirely? His fists clench, trying to quell his twitching fingers.
You're drenched in crimson in front of him, the red lights painting you in a way that has his mouth running dry. Every shred of his pitiful dignity seems to evaporate as he trails his trembling eyes over your body, latching onto how your shorts delicately squeeze around your thighs. How elegant your neck stretches when you crane it to the side. How your top is cut just low enough.
God help me, I am no better than anyone else.
If Heeseung wasn't so busy staring at you, he might've noticed you staring at him back.
At his tousled hair. How the muscles in his arms rippled as he flexed them unconsciously.
At his lips, maybe. Who knows.
It takes Heeseung longer than he's proud of for him to reel himself back in and tear his gaze from you. The fog clears, music returning to the volume it was at before.
“Are you drunk?” he blurts, finally standing up from his chair.
Your face breaks into a lazy smile. The alcohol in your system has your tongue feeling heavier than usual, honeying your voice and making your words connect with a barely-there slur.
“Nuh uh. I'm not that lightweight. This is only my second drink of the night.” You hold up the half-full cup, the contents swishing around inside.
Suddenly, you tilt your cheek towards him. “Here. Feel.”
Heeseung's eyes widen. “H—Huh?”
“Feel my face,” you repeat, tilting closer.
Just how drunk are you?
Lifting a hand, Heeseung hesitates for a moment before letting the back of his hand carefully press against your offered cheek. The touch is electric, sending a surge from the tips of his fingers up the length of his arm. Your skin is impossibly soft. It yields under his touch like a cloud.
It's also flushed hot, which he makes sure to point out.
You scoff lightly, feigning offense. “That doesn't mean anything.”
“It really does, Y/N,” Heeseung finds himself murmuring softly. He isn't sure what possesses him to then move his hand from your cheek to your forehead—liquid confidence, maybe—but he does.
You don't lean away.
“I met your friend. Jay, I think,” you finally say, breaking away to walk over to the desk.
Heeseung's gaze flickers with disappointment, following your figure as you plop down into the chair. Quite possibly the worst thing you could've told him, but he bites his tongue.
“He seems nice. Turns out we're in the same Econ program group chat. Was he being serious about you doing homework up here?”
The code he'd been writing is still pulled up on the computer screen, which you take the luxury of scrolling through, much to Heeseung's dread. He moves to try to steal the mouse away, which you respond to by immediately snapping your arm out to keep it out of his reach. “Don't look at that.”
“Why?” you ask, as if you're a kid being denied candy.
“Because I did it while drunk. The code can barely run. I don't even know what I wrote.”
“I'm just curious! It's not like I'm gonna judge you— I don't know jackshit about coding.”
Your brows are drawn in a knot that Heeseung has grown familiar with after a lot of staring during library sessions. It's the same look you get when you're stuck on something—whether it's some theoretical concept you can't wrap your head around, or a flashcard you can't seem to remember, no matter how many times it comes up in rotation.
Now, you're glaring at his code as if it's at fault for not magically bestowing you with god-tier computer science powers the second you'd glanced at it.
Suddenly, you're swivelling around in the chair to face him. “Teach me how to code.”
Heeseung sputters. “What?”
“Teach me how to code,” you repeat, batting your lashes.
Pursing his lips, he tries to push down a smile. “You came to the biggest party of the year and you want to learn how to code?”
“Am I high or are we not at the same party?”
“I wasn't coding willingly. Shit, you really are a huge nerd.”
You whine. “I already did all the party stuff! Chaewon introduced me to her friends and we danced and I watched a few games of beer pong. I already hit the quota I set for night. And... and I want to spend time with you,” you say, voice growing quieter towards the end.
Heeseung knows it's probably the alcohol talking, but that doesn't stop him from instantly softening around the edges.
You're just so— so cute right now. Talkative and clingy in a way that stirs something gooey in his chest, in a way that he never expected to see. He wonders if this is real at all, and yet would actively still jump into the deep end even if he knew it wasn't.
“Okay,” he murmurs softly, poking your forehead. “Don't sulk.”
Heeseung shifts so that he's leaning over you from the side, and this time, you don't resist when he takes the mouse from you, letting your hand fall away. Seconds later, a blank program is pulled up on the screen.
“Three basic things you gotta know about writing code,” he starts. “Variables, conditionals, and loops. Variables store stuff—”
His breath stutters when he feels your chin perch innocently on the nook of his bicep.
You're unfazed when he glances down at you, simply staring ahead at what he's typing. He finds his voice again, meeker than it was.
“—conditionals decide what happens, and loops loop things. So, if I wrote an if statement, like if x is greater than five, then...”
The wonderful world of Python can only keep someone entertained for so long—Heeseung thinks it a miracle you lasted as long as you did before starting to not-so-subtly hint at wanting to do something else.
Drink, that is. Fiending to drink.
The smart decision was probably to get you to pace yourself, yet Heeseung's never claimed to be smart. Nothing he's ever done really has.
He's selfish. Selfish and tipsy. He wants to savour this endearing side of you because he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to see it again.
That's how you both end up here: sat side-by-side on the floor, leaning back against the bed frame, drinking from soju bottles—yours strawberry, his grape—that Heeseung had taken from Minjun's mini fridge. Somewhere in his mind, he makes a mental post-it to buy them back for him.
Conversation flows. You talk about what it was like spending your entire life in all-girls schools, and he might've let it slip that he's a streamer (to which he immediately shuts down all attempts you make at trying to get him to show you his channel, not matter what you said or how you pouted).
Things about school, things about people, things stupid beyond imagination (“D'you think I could get Clavicular to collab with me?” “What?”)—it all comes out in a natural stream of thoughts.
At some point, you start to grow quiet. As if you're sobering up, even though your bottle is getting emptier.
Heeseung notices. He matches you. “Tired?”
You shake your head. “Not yet. This is just how I get when I drink. I get loud and then I get quiet,” you explain, words slurring a bit.
It's later in the night, so the rush of the party had settled down, though there's still a decent amount of commotion, mostly from people hanging out in and around the pool.
“Heeseung?” you mumble.
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever feel like you're just floating through your existence?”
Heeseung's in the middle of taking a swig from his bottle. The question sends him into a mild coughing fit, the corners of his eyes instantly watering. “Don't you think that's a bit—cough—bit too loaded of a—cough—question?”
You give him a sheepish smile before letting your head drop back, a soft thud against the mattress. “Sorry. I'm a little out of it right now. Forget I said anything, actually.”
Wiping his mouth with his hand, Heeseung turns to look at you. “I've done viewer counselling sessions for my streams. My chat says I'm a good listener.” He sounds so lame to himself, but you laugh, and that matters more.
Silence falls over the two of you. Just when he thinks it's cemented itself and you no longer want to talk, you mumble: “I dunno if I actually want to be a lawyer.”
A pause. “Okay,” Heeseung says slowly. Processing the statement, turning it over a few times in his head. “Why?”
You rub at your eyes with the heels of your palms, dragging them down your face. “That's the thing—I don't know,” you groan, words garbled from alcohol. “Like, my mom wanted to be a lawyer but didn't get into law school, so that's why she's in real estate. Then, my sister passed the bar with flying colours and is now this big, successful lawyer who brings home two hundred grand a year. So... so I'm sorta supposed to do all that too, you know? Do my diligence. I'm as much my mother's daughter as my sister is. And I am! That's why I'm here in the first place—”
Heeseung's hands gently grasp your own flailing ones, stilling them before placing them back into your lap. “Woah, woah, chill. You're rambling. A lot.”
“—I just—I know I'm succeeding. I have medals and titles and resources and a scholarship here and yet—when I look at my mom and see how happy she is whenever she brings these things up, I don't... feel what she feels.”
You trail to a close like air escaping a punctured balloon, voice thin as insecurity seeps into your pores. “I don't feel what she feels and I don't know what's wrong with me.”
Heeseung remains quiet for a long time.
Horror is the only fitting word that describes the expression on your face. A shaky hand cards through your hair as you scramble to apologize. “S—sorry. I don't usually... overshare like that, fuck—”
“Y/N,” he cuts you off. “You know I'm only an electrical major because Jake is too, right?”
You blink a few times, trying to clear the dense fog shrouding your mind. “Seriously?” you croak after a moment.
“Okay, no, not fully,” he chuckles dryly. “But like, half seriously. I chose electrical because my highest grades last year were in the electrical courses they make us take. Having a friend sorta tipped it over, I guess.”
Shifting his body so that he's fully facing you, Heeseung props his elbow up on the mattress, resting his head in his hand. “Other reasons were if I chose a major I'm good at, I might have a better chance at scoring internships. Or doing a masters or some other bullshit that would "further my professional career". Point is none of those have anything to do with what I want because I don't know what the fuck I want.”
“Streaming's fun,” he hums. “My dad doesn't think it's a real job, though. So I get what you mean. At least, I hope I do.”
He takes a moment to carefully select his next words, going over them in his head to make sure they'll sound fine rolling off his tongue.
“There's no rule that says you're 'supposed' to do anything. You have free will,” he says. “Right now, being a lawyer sounds more like your mom's dream, not yours. But maybe that'll change, and you actually do want to be a lawyer in the future. Who knows. Either way, you'll be the only one to make that decision when the time comes. Not your mom. Not your sister. You.”
Heeseung can't decipher the emotions that are pooling in your eyes. He's worried it's a bad sign—he's never been the best with empathy or knowing exactly what to say, and he's certain that he's not more graceful while tipsy than he is sober—but you shift to face him.
Legs unfurling from your chest to cross on top of each other. Inching closer until your face is a breath's away from his.
Tension permeates the small space, so thick and palpable that Heeseung can practically taste it. His eyes trace the slope of your nose, the curve of your cupid's bow, the strands of messy hair that he ached to brush out of your face. Unknowingly, he wets his lips—a movement your eyes follow.
Hope is scary. Fragile. All it takes it one wrong step, one toe out of line, and it can be extinguished with the gentlest gust of wind.
Heeseung dares to hope.
“If you ask me... I think you're enough just as you are.”
You lean in. He lets you.
You hesitate. He doesn't pull away—and a hundred, thousand fireworks set off in his chest when your lips slot against his.
They're soft, tentative. Just a little bit awkward and uncoordinated in their movements, but Heeseung doesn't mind. He lets you steer the ship where you want it to go.
The kiss is brief, only lasting a couple seconds before your mouth detaches from his with a soft smack. He expects you to pull away, to no longer be able to breathe in the faint notes of jasmine in your perfume on every inhale—but you don't.
You keep the sliver between you an inch wide, nose nudging against his, breath still fanning against his skin in warm puffs. Lingering.
You push yourself up onto your knees, a yelp escaping you as you stumble, the ends of your hair skimming his face. Heeseung's hands instinctively find your waist to steady you. He revels in the way the dip feels against his palms. A meek sorry comes from you, which he returns with a small it's fine.
Shifting closer, the front of your thigh presses against his side. He sucks in a sharp, shuddering breath as you sling yourself over him, helping you down as you settle into his lap, thighs bracketing his.
Heeseung has to crane his neck up ever so slightly to meet your gaze.
You're gorgeous. He's thought that since the very day he met you, but this—your bare skin scorching his hands, the sight of you on top of him—has his mind going mushy and blank. A barely audible groan slips out of him as your arms sling around his neck, fingers gently threading through the hair at his nape.
“You're pretty.” The words come out in a rush, not caring if you know. Needing you to know. “God, you're so fucking pretty.”
“You're buttering me up,” you say, your retort lacking any real contempt. He only shakes his head, reconnecting your lips, deeper, escalating.
Heeseung's heartbeat is in his ears. The ache that's been sitting his chest, tamped down but constantly brewing, springs forth the moment he feels your tongue swipe against the seam of his lips. They part instantly, letting your tongue press in, wet and hot—the strawberry flavouring mixed with the slight bitterness of alcohol you'd been drinking hitting his taste buds.
“I want you.” You sigh the words into his mouth, and he swallows them fervently. “Please...”
Heeseung breathes out a shaky laugh. “Neither of us are sober.”
“You don't want me?”
“Fuck, I never said that.”
Eager hands fist at the hem of his tank, which he lets you slip off and toss aside, his entire top-half left bare. His skin is flushed hot, chest heaving as your lips trail down his neck, his collarbone, his sternum—unable to control the low moan he lets out as they latch onto his abdomen, sucking a hickey into the skin. “F—fuck...”
When you come back up, Heeseung pulls you back down flush against him. One hand slides under your thigh, the other slipping into the back of your shorts, lightly running over the skin there. A full-body shiver runs through him as the tips of his fingers brush against the texture of your waistband.
“Lace?” he muses, as if it doesn't undo him.
“Shut up.”
“I didn't say I was complaining. You know I'm not complaining, right?”
“Shut. Up.”
And how quickly he complies, slanting his lips to yours again. Heeseung feels feverish—choking out a high-pitched gasp as your hips grind down. He's throbbing against your ass, his entire arm wrapping around your waist like an iron band to pull you against him harder, coaxing you to give him more friction, his head lolling back when you do. He finds the ribbon of your top at your back, tugging it loose—
“Shit, someone get him out!”
Someone's shouting outside. Heeseung doesn't hear it, fingers fumbling with the clasp of your bra—
It grows louder. Fucking hell, shut up, he thinks, brows knitting together as he tries to focus on you, on how you feel against him—but your movements slowly come to a halt.
“What's that noise?” you whisper.
Heeseung shakes his head before feverishly kissing down your neck, trying to reassure you. “Nothing, nothing. C'mon, baby, keep going—”
But the commotion only seems to multiply, growing until it's a cacophony of panicked and confused voices. Concerned, you look over your shoulder towards the window, your grip in his hair loosening.
He groans into your skin as he feels you start to shift off his lap. It feels like he's never wanted anything more desperately than to keep you against him—but he lets you climb off, hands falling limply to the side.
Head tilting towards the ceiling, Heeseung blinks a few times, trying to clear the hazy fog from his head (and calming himself down so he doesn't explode) before standing up begrudgingly and dragging himself over to the window.
Heeseung peeks outside. His brow furrows with confusion, then concern. Instead of everyone being littered around the backyard doing their own things, every head is turned towards the pool.
Jake is currently being hauled out of the pool like a wet dog by Jay and Sunghoon, face contorted in pain.
“What's going on?” Your voice is quiet. Uneasy.
“I don't know. I think something happened to Jake,” Heeseung says gravely, breaking away from the window to pick up his shirt from the floor. “I— fuck, I'm going to kill him.”
Pebbles dig into Heeseung's socked feet—he couldn't be bothered with shoes—as he rushes out into the backyard towards where Sunghoon, Jay, and a couple other Lambda guys are crowded around Jake. He calls out, “What's going on here?”
Jake's leaning back against his hands, one of his legs outstretched in front of him. He's red as a lobster, from his face down to his neck, and also soaking wet, clothes sticking to the outline of his body, dripping water down that washes the concrete a darker shade—yet he only waves a dismissive hand.
“Nothing,” he slurs. “I'm—hic—fine.”
Sunghoon scoffs, hands on his hips. “Einstein here decided to jump from the roof and didn't realize he was jumping into the shallow end because he's shitfaced.”
He then turns to Heeseung, looking him up and down. “Where've you been? I haven't seen you in, like, two h— do you have a fucking boner right now?”
Much to his horror, Heeseung looks down to find a very noticeable tent in his pants. He exhales—zen, he thinks, be zen—before slipping his leather jacket off to tie around his waist. “Shut the fuck up.”
Apparently, Jake is coherent enough to stare at Heeseung's crotch, see that he's hard, and put two and two together. “Holy shit, did I cockblock you?”
“Yes, you fu— whatever. It's not important. We need to call the ambulance.”
“Jay's already on it,” Sunghoon says, jerking his head over in Jay's direction.
A small distance away, Ren—who's also visibly drunk but somehow still manages to climb onto a patio table with falling—cups his mouth to create a makeshift megaphone before yelling at the top of his lungs: “Alright, wrap it up! We're done here! If you're not a brother or fucking a brother, get the fuck out!”
Loud groaning resounds throughout the yard. People are evidently upset that they'd been cut off for the night, but eventually, the crowd disperses. Some staggering as their sober friends haul them out, some laughing on their phones—Jake would probably be on a hundred people's Snapchat stories and at the top of the university's subreddit by the morning.
Heeseung finds you standing in the doorway of the sliding screen door that leads to the yard. You look noticeably worried.
His eyes soften.
“What happened?” you ask as he approaches you.
Standing in front of you, Heeseung brings his hands up to cup your face, smoothing out the crease between your eyes with the pad of his thumb.
“Jake's jumped into the pool and fucked up his leg. An ambulance is on the way,” he says, chuckling at your deadpan expression.
Heeseung peers into your eyes. His heart stutters. “I'm sorry,” he whispers. “About us getting interrupted, I mean.”
You shrug, arms wrapping around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest. “'s whatever. In fact, I was kinda going into this whole frat party thing with the expectation that there would be some bullshit.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Were your expectations met?”
A soft, pondering hum leaves you. “Quite.”
The hospital waiting room is deserted at this hour, save for the anxious mother and her sleeping son huddled together. Heeseung's shoes click against tile as he makes his way back to the area, two paper cones filled with water in his hands.
Jake had broken his leg. With his parents not in the country, Heeseung had offered to stay and wait until he gets settled with a room.
You had stayed with him.
Rounding the corner, he sees you yawning. A faint smile tugs at his lips.
“You don't have to stay here, you know,” he says, handing you a cone. It's the third time he's said it since the two of you got here—and you've been stubborn about it each time. “I'll call you an Uber.”
You accept the water, taking a sip before giving him a shrug.
“You'll be bored. Besides, I'm not tired,” you say, as if he hadn't just caught you in the act.
Heeseung looks like he's about to refute you again, but ends up dropping it. He plops down into the hard waiting room chair, throwing the water back like a shot. Ice cold water slides down his dry throat.
Silence. There's an elephant standing in the corner, staring the two of you dead in the eye.
“So,” he starts awkwardly.
You smack your lips. “So.”
“...I, uhm, I think you're cool.”
He sees you turn to face him in the corner of his vision, and absolutely refuses to meet your eyes. “Heeseung, you had your hand in my pants.”
Absentmindedly, he starts folding his empty paper cone, sealing the edges to make a rectangle while grumbling something about how you 'can't just lead in with that.'
“I might like you,” he gets out.
“I might like you,” you copy mockingly.
“I'm being serious!”
“You just told me that you 'think I'm cool.'”
Sighing, Heeseung drops his face into his hands, wrestling with his nerves and feelings and the stupid little flips you make his heart do. Eventually, his words come out in an embarrassed mumble. “I think you're really pretty and sweet and I'd like to go out with you.”
If he had been looking at you, then he would've seen you pursing your lips, trying to hold back a smile.
A few seconds pass before Heeseung feels your head rest on his shoulder.
“I'd like that.”
“Chat,” Heeseung claps his hands together, closing out of his browser so that his camera can be set as full-screen. “I posted on Twitter earlier that we have a special guest joining us today.”
user888: oh my god this is so exciting
heeseungism: DAD PLEASEEE LET US SEE MOM PLEASEEEEEE
Heeseung glances out the corner of his eye.
You're sitting beside him just out of frame, fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of your cardigan. The sight makes his chest tighten with fondness.
“You look nervous,” he points out.
You shoot him a look, despite letting him pull you up to stand. “Am not.”
He only laughs in return, hands warm on your hips as he guides you into view.
“Alright. Chat, this is my girlfriend, Y/N,” Heeseung announces, chin hooking over your shoulder. “She's a little shy, so don't be fucking weird and scare her off.”
cherryxxi: HELLO!!!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹
applejuicemaster: bruh why am i lowkenuinely proud of u
reynakisser_: Wtf she's so out of ur league. pick ME!!!!! HE DONT KNOW HOW TO HANDLE ALLAT
Half-lidded eyes scanning the racing chat, Heeseung's lips quirk upwards at everyone's reaction.
⠀⠀⠀⠀• ₍ 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 ₎ ’ fake bf!enhypen x fake gf f!reader 𝟏𝟐𝐎𝐎𝑦 ♡ w. fluff kissing skinship petnames ✿ 𝑔𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟𝑦.
玉珍 : this is my first work! feedback is much appreciated and i hope you enjoy it! sunghoon and niki’s part were my favorites!
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀´ ᵕ ` reblog for kisses!
HEESEUNG
• “you know, you don’t need to hold my hand outside of campus.” you scold him— yet his thumb continues tracing circles across your knuckles. heeseung laughs it off with a simple, “it’s for practice, y/n.” but you see how his ears and neck slowly turn pink.
• it’s a normal, ordinary day when someone tries to hit on you in the middle of the hallway. within seconds, he’s gripping you arm firmly, pulling you behind him. with his jaw tight, he says, “she’s taken.” heeseung says ‘taken’ with an intensity so strong the guy backs off instantly.
• each time you complain about his affection in public he mutters into your ear, “remember, we’re dating. have to make it real, yeah?”
• at a dance, your kiss felt anything but fake. with his arms wrapped around your waist, trying to pull you closer to himself. heeseung really thought you didn’t hear him whisper against your lips. “i love you.”
JONGSEONG
• jay insists on walking you home, saying something along the lines of, “it’s the least a boyfriend could do.”
• at times, you would catch him giving glares at anyone who got too close— muttering insults and sometimes even curses under his breath.
• before class, as he’s walking beside you, you whisper, “don’t forget, it’s just an act.” you don’t miss the way his hand grips your waist tighter at the word ‘act.’
• whenever you thank jay for protecting you from creeps or anything in general— his eyes soften and he seems to melt into your praise, but his eyes turn hard just as fast. “don’t mention it. it’s just what we have to do.” the lie he told you to your face made him sick.
• “i know that fake dating is suppose to end, y/n.” jay said one night, turning his head to look at you. “but i’m starting to hope whatever we have doesn’t.”
JAEYUN
• jake began with sending sweet good morning texts. he brushed it off by saying it was, “for the bit.”
• he carries your textbooks for you— allowing his hand to linger against yours every time. “carrying them isn’t that hard, jake.” you mumble, fixing the strap of your backpack. “so what? i can’t be a gentleman to my girl?”
• as jake reluctantly wipes away a fake lipstick smudge from his cheek, he says proudly, “we’re actually pretty good at this.” but you can see the slight pout in his eyes as he stares at the red stain on his hand. “hey, y/n.” “yeah?” he pauses before asking, “you should kiss me on the cheek for real next time. it could be more.. ya’ know.. convincing.”
• one day, jake’s tone suddenly became serious when walking you to your next class. “if anyone ever asks— you’re still taken by me until this ends.” the way he says the last part makes it sound like a question.
SUNGHOON
• when your fake relationship began, he treated it like some game. sunghoon teased you, leaned in closer only to pull away a second later just to make you angry. “can’t let you get too used to me.” he says with a cocky, infuriating smirk.
• yet when some rando tries to hand you his number on a paper, sunghoon snatches it before you could read anything. “guess he didn’t see me right behind you,” he mutters with a strained laugh. later, you caught him glaring at the crumped note in his hand. “imagine being mad at a piece of paper,” you say, plucking it from his hand and throwing it in the trash. you don’t miss the way he smiles in satisfaction.
• “you know, i’m starting to think you actually like me, park sunghoon.” you tell him on the roof of the school building. leaning against the railing, he replies, “hmph. and i’m starting to think you like our fake relationship more than you want to admit.” was he really wrong?
• the kiss that came the next day on campus feels almost natural. as if it wasn’t fake at all. and it scared the both of you.
SEONWOO
• sunoo is dramatic about everything— from calling you petnames in front of everyone or cling onto you. the second he sees you tired or in a bad mood, his playful demeanor fades.
• even though it wasn’t necessary at all, he took you on shopping dates. “sunoo, could you get me this?” you ask, pointing at a lipgloss on the shelf. he picks it up, comparing the shade next to your face. “hmm.. i don’t know.” he teases you. despite that, he slips it into the basket when you aren’t looking.
• sometimes, he’d tuck your hair behind your ear— the moment that was just suppose to be for show felt too real. you remind him sharply, “you do know that you’re suppose to pretend to care.” sunoo hums and whispers, “mhmm. pretend.”
• you and him only realize that the relationship was never truly fake when you had your first-year anniversary.
JUNGWON
• jungwon insists that it’s nothing serious. “it’s just for the fun, okay? nothing actually emotional.”
• in the middle of class, you catch the way he steals glances at you— lips parting when you lock eyes. “we should make the act reaaally convincing,” he’d mumble, pulling you for a hug that lasted a second too long.
• during a project, you and him pair up which causes you to complain playfully. but then someone asks you if you wanted to be their partner instead and jungwon’s smile and dimples drop instantly.
• he brags about you to his friends, talking about how you recently for a job and how you treat him so well. “you’re kinda pushing it, don’t you think?” you ask him. jungwon looks at you with a confused look. “i just want them to know how good you are to me, pretty.”
• when you ask to ‘break up,’ jungwon looks at you as if it’s the last thing he ever wanted to do. “it’s about time we end things.” you say, observing his face for his reaction. he stares back at you like you just told him to kill his entire family. “no.” jungwon says after about three minutes of standing still.
RIKI
• niki occasionally jokes that he’s the best fake boyfriend. but even when no one is looking when he comes to pick you up, his hoodie drapes over your shoulder. “can’t have you catching a cold on me,” he says, hands stuffed into the pockets of his deep-wash denim jeans. “or maybe you actually care about me?” you tease— in which he responds with an eye roll. yet he doesn’t exactly deny your claim.
• when you flirt with him back as part of the facade, his small smirk wavers just enough for you to see his flustered side. “you’re holding me as if i’m gonna leave you if you let go. and i think i like that.” niki flicks your forehead, pink tint on his cheeks. “shut up. you might end up actually falling for me.”
• the first kiss at some frat party was completely for show. but the second one wasn’t. and all the other ones throughout the party too. “it seems like you can’t get enough of me, y/n.” niki says, smiling. “you kissed me first, idiot.”
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐶𝐇⠀⠀⠀jungwon just couldn't keep his cool, so what does he do?
sᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ ✦ . . . non-idol!jungwon x 𝓕em!reader your eyes only ❕꒱ est. relationship possessiveness ✴ •. 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗. 608 have fun reading! wonirio 2026
if jungwon could describe himself, he would probably say calm and collected.
the type to never jump into conclusions, always observing and using his intelligent mind to solve a certain problem.
or he would probably say he’s mature—very much so.
he’s the type to not really start an argument or make a big deal about something so little. he prefers to be the bigger person, often handling such situations in a very practical way.
but if you were to ask him how he’s feeling right now, he’d probably say something that would be a complete contrast to what he said before—if anyone called dibs and remembered everything he said.
jungwon knew not to pry whenever you interact with other people, preferably your friends. he likes to see you shine when you talk to them—smiling and laughing. he’d choose to lean against a wall, somewhere not too far but not too close either. where you can feel his presence and where he can still see you.
but right now, it’s taking every fiber of his being to not go over where you are right now and claim you as his.
he had been glaring holes at the back of a random man’s head for a few minutes now. often times, men would feel it and directly look at jungwon’s fierce eyes, but this one is too hard headed.
the random man’s smirk widened as he leaned too close to you. “i’m bored,” he said, voice too low. “do you wanna kiss right now?”
before you could react, jungwon’s tall figure stood in front of you, body angled enough to block you from the man’s view but also maintaining his calm composure. his voice was soft, almost casual, but the underlying sharpness in his tone was enough to send a shiver down the man’s spine.
“hey,” his eyes found yours for a second before snapping back to the man. “she’s busy.”
the man laughed, his head shaking—shrugging it off, but there’s a hint of hesitation now, just enough to know that jungwon isn’t something you should go against. jungwon didn’t need to raise his voice, he didn’t need to be physical. his presence is enough to assert authority—dominant, unshakable, protective.
you felt your heart flutter—a mix of relief and probably something else—something that spread from your stomach to your cheeks. jungwon stayed where he was, imitating a barricade between you and the man, but now there was quiet warning brewing underneath his sharp stare. you prayed that the man would not do something stupid to break jungwon’s calm demeanor, because if he did, all hell break loose.
the man finally stood back, hands up high. “damn man, didn’t know she was taken anyway. she was alone and i thought i could keep her company.”
jungwon paid no mind to the man’s remark, his stare remained hard and focused—like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey.
then jungwon’s gaze flicked over yours. he leaned closer—not too close, but enough for you to feel his presence.
“you alright, baby?”
you nodded, smiling softly. he allowed a small nod in return. his arms wrapped around your waist protectively, his eyes observing you before settling his forehead on the curve of your neck and shoulder.
“you’re mine,” he said softly, so low you might have thought you imagined it if it wasn’t for the way his grip tightened around your figure, or the way he left soft feather kisses on your neck.
you swallowed hard, heat rushing to your cheeks.
calm. collected. mature.
that was jungwon. but right now—he was all claim and protect, and it was terrifying how it gave you butterflies.
ฅ^>⩊<^ ฅ wherein jungwon couldn't handle you not being his, so he decided to change that. it's only a coincidence that his birthday happened to be on the same day.
IM JUST THE BOY WHO'S LOOKING AT YOU . . . stucoprez!jungwon × viceprez!reader ───✷ please watch out for profanity, slight mature themes, possible grammer & spelling mistakes, mentions of alcohol (?) n skinship >< (note at the end)
THEME . . . frenemies 2 lovers, fluff, non-idol au, college au, mutual pining, classmates 2 lovers (?), he fell first AND harder (lol), bday boy won. jealous won, angry confession, he's whipped asf
jungwon hated it.
you were talking to literally everyone but him, and it was his birthday party! how could you do such a thing?
right. you two weren't exactly friends.. but still!
he glared at the boy talking to you— soobin? or whatever his name was, like if he stared for long enough, the guy latching onto you would disappear.
“won.” a firm voice snapped him out of his daze, though it was visible he was sulking. “yea?”
“stop staring at them like that.” sunoo scolds, for the third time already.
“I can't help it.. why are they standing so close to each other?” he groans, burying his face into sunoo’s shoulder.
“.. won, they're barely touching.” he tries to reason, but jungwon wasn't having it.
he moved before sunoo could stop him, slipping past the crowd and finally making his way to you.
“y/n” he said firmly, commanding attention, but you only rolled your eyes.
“what do you want?” you said with a hint of annoyance in your tone, and usually, he'd tease you about it, but no, his expression was humorless, and he almost seemed too serious.
"come with me." he said, his voice was stern, leaving no space for argument as you felt his hand wrap around your wrist tightly.
"what?" you start, but he's already dragging you away from the crowd and towards the balcony. "wait- hey!"
once you were inside, he closed the door to drain out all the party noise, and turned to you.
"what's your problem!?" you snap at him.
you and jungwon were always like this. every interaction turned into an argument, every room you stepped into was a war zone once he's there too, however, it was always more playful than this, more teasing. but now? the air feels charged.
"what's yours? huh?"
seriously, what's wrong with him today? he never did this before.
"what the hell are you talking about?"
jungwon took a deep breath, then, "I'll tell you what I'm talking about. It's my birthday, mine. how could you go and talk to everyone but me!? worse than that, you're talking to some guy who just wants to use you!"
"excuse me? what do you mean by using me?" you were offended, to say the least.
"I mean what I said. that guy doesn't even know what he's doing, y/n."
"how would you know, jungwon? because it seems like ever since I met you you've been trying to control everything with your condescending words. this isn't the first time, just stop meddling with my life for the sake of our arguments!"
"he doesn't deserve you, none of these people do." he suddenly says, snapping you out of your anger for a bit.
his voice was soft, softer than usual. you recognize that tone, the one he used when you broke down from pressure and he was the only one there to comfort you, the one he used when he tried to explain himself after making you cry without meaning to, the one he used when he wanted you to understand him.
"jungwon.." you started, unsure of what to say, your heart beat quickening by the second.
this was jungwon. the boy who made fun of you for untied shoelaces, the boy who scared away everyone who hit on you— but brushed it off everytime, the boy encouraged you to run for vice president— in his own way, the boy who you were always somehow comfortable with, no matter how much he teased you.
"do you like him?"
"what? no i-"
"don't hang out with him anymore." he said firmly, his grip on your wrist still there, tightening.
but this was wrong, you can't let him have this much. "jungwon-" you started firmly, planning to dismiss him.
"please." he said again.
"jungwon you can't make a decision like that for me"
"why? why not? all I'm asking for is you keep your space from other men when I'm around it's the least you could do for me on my birthday y/n!" he rambled on, not realizing how much he's revealing with how fast he was talking.
"why does that matter?"
"because I love you!" he confessed, panting heavily.
you froze.
did he really just say that?
"say that again." but jungwon only shakes his head frantically.
he was bright red. his face heated up in no time, his ears were as red as a tomato, and he wished that a hole would open up and swallow him.
you feel the giggles bubbling up inside you before you can stop it. jungwon can only bury his face in his hands to save himself from the embarrassment.
"reject me quickly so we can get over this." he said, his voice muffled by his hands
"excuse me?" you ask in amusement
"I'll make sure to get over you as quickly as possible." he continues.
"jungwon I'm not an assignment you have to hand over"
"give me 3-5 business days." he insists, and it makes you laugh. how could he still be so playful?
you carefully place your hands on top of his, holding them away from his face so you could look at him properly.
your smile widens as you finally catch a glimpse of his face, his rosy cheeks, his teary eyes, his pouty lips.
"you're so cute."
"huh?"
"I wasn't going to reject you, jungwon." you said, and his eyes widen, filled with hope.
"I like you too. I uhm- I wasn't sure if I was good at hiding it, but apparently I am." you said, letting out a nervous chuckle. "I even got you a present for today but I was too scared that it would be obvious how much I like you so I tried to avoid you even though it is your birthday, I know it's stupid but-" jungwon could only smile fondly at your rambling, and before he could stop himself, he leaned in and locked your lips with his own.
the world tilted the moment you felt his lips on yours.
the kiss was steady, tender but fierce as he poured all of the emotions bubbling inside of him into the kiss. it was sweet, his hand reached to cup your cheek as he deepened the kiss further.
when you pulled back, jungwon whined at the loss of contact, his eyes glossier than ever.
"what is it?" you ask softly.
"I just like you so much." he said with a shaky chuckle, tears falling before he could stop them.
your hands immediately fly to his face, gently wiping away his tears.
"I like you a lot too." you say with a smile, and he just engulfs you in a tight hug.
and later, when most people have already gone home, jungwon turns to you with a small smile and says, "i love you, my beautiful girlfriend."
you giggle, "you're so drunk."
"maybe, but it's still true."
"I love you too, wonie."
"and?" he prompts
"happy birthday, love" you add, making jungwon smile wider.
and, for one, jungwon's birthday wish finally came true.
note: hi a short one for wonnie day :3 u can so tell how rushed this was.. ehhh I'm sorry.. ALSO I SUCKKKKKKK at writing kissing scenes as u can tell lolol.. but this is exposure therapy or whatever they call it the more I post my shitty writing the more I improve!! I adore my jungwon soosossoo much omg 🥹 happy won day!!!
Jake feels anything but normal living next door to the girl who recently moved in. In fact, his problems go far beyond an allergic reaction to garlic and a deep rooted hatred of sunlight.
➛ vamp!neighbor jake x reader
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐚𝐩𝐬 : vamp jake is my favourite au
vamp!neighbor Jake who feels the overwhelming urge to rip the landlord’s neck out when he finds out the supposedly empty room next to his was secretly sold, despite him repeatedly insisting he doesn’t want any neighbors.
vamp!neighbor Jake who keeps finding random birds pooping on his windowsill, only to discover they’ve all migrated to the balcony next door where his new neighbor is happily attracting them with an entire buffet of grains.
vamp!neighbor Jake who stands frozen behind his door when you knock to introduce yourself, holding warm homemade cookies and smiling like you don't know you're seconds away from short circuiting an immortal being.
vamp!neighbor Jake who rehearsed a calm, normal greeting all week, only to greet you with, “I don’t bite,” and then immediately wish the earth would swallow him whole.
vamp!neighbor Jake who nearly loses his mind when you decide to hang wind chimes outside looking like an absoluteangel, because now every tiny breeze sounds like an ominous warning bell announcing his eternal doom.
vamp!neighbor Jake who glares at the thin apartment walls because now he can hear everything — your music, your laughter, your heartbeat, and it’s driving him insane for all the wrong reasons.
vamp!neighbor Jake who carefully schedules his grocery runs in the evening to avoid sunlight, only to bump into you in the lobby because your stupid date decided to ditch you in the worst way possible, and he pretends he doesn’t care while memorizing the guy’s scent for… reasons.
vamp!neighbor Jake who insists he’s “not really a dessert person” just to avoid revealing his fangs as you insisted sharing the ice cream which he gave you after noticing your teary eyes.
vamp!neighbor Jake who has to physically grip the kitchen counter when you laugh too close to him, because your heartbeat spikes and he is trying very hard to be a gentleman.
vamp!neighbor Jake who stares at his ceiling at 4AM because he can hear you pacing next door, and instead of being annoyed, he’s worried you’re sad.
vamp!neighbor Jake who absolutely hates sunlight but finds himself standing near the window longer than he should just to watch you water your plants in the morning.
vamp!neighbor Jake who tells himself he’ll keep his distance for your safety… but somehow always ends up standing a little too close in the elevator, painfully aware of every breath you take.
vamp!neighbor Jake who wordlessly hands you his hoodie when you’re shivering outside, acting mildly annoyed about it, but secretly panicking because now you smell like him.
vamp!neighbor Jake who keeps his voice low and distant whenever you talk, afraid that if he softens even a little, you’ll hear how fast his undead heart starts beating.
vamp!neighbor Jake who acts irritated when you text him first, replying with short, dry messages… then rereads the conversation fifteen times afterward.
vamp!neighbor Jake who pretends not to notice when you rest your head on his shoulder in the elevator but doesn’t move a single inch until you wake up.
vamp!neighbor Jake who keeps telling himself you deserve someone warm, someone human, someone normal yet still finds himself standing outside your door some nights, just to make sure your heartbeat sounds steady.
vamp!neighbor Jake who is cold, composed, distant until you smile at him directly, and for half a second, the centuries old restraint in his eyes completely melts.
vamp!neighbor Jake who gently wipes a tear off your cheek with his thumb after you get heartbroken fifth time in a month, movements painfully careful, voice low and steady when he says, “Don’t cry over someone who couldn’t see you properly.”
vamp!neighbor Jake who turns away quickly after that, because if he looks at you any longer, the cold mask he wears so carefully might finally crack.
vamp!neighbor Jake who goes completely still the first time you fall asleep on his shoulder during a late-night movie, every muscle locked in place because if he moves even slightly, he might scare you away so he just sits there for hours, pretending immortality isn’t the only reason he can manage it.
vamp!neighbor Jake who nearly loses that control the first time you get a paper cut in front of him, eyes flashing faintly before he abruptly turns away, voice strained as he mutters, “Be more careful.”
vamp!neighbor Jake who disappears into his apartment for the rest of the night after that, gripping the edge of his sink and reminding himself that you are not prey, you are not prey, you are not prey.
vamp!neighbor Jake who malfunctions the first time you say his name softly — “Jake?” — like it’s something precious, because no one has said it like that in decades and he clears his throat and answers with a curt “What?” even though his ears are burning and his undead heart is trying to remember how to beat properly.
vamp!neighbor Jake who confesses in the quietest voice possible, “You shouldn’t trust me so easily,” because the scariest part isn’t the bloodlust, it’s how badly he wants you.
vamp!neighbor Jake who almost kisses you by accident when you lean in to wipe bread crumbs off the corner of his mouth, both of you freezing inches apart, his eyes flickering darker before he pulls back abruptly, voice rough as he mutters, “Don’t.”
vamp!neighbor Jake who spends the entire night replaying that almost kiss in his head, fingers hovering over his lips like he can still feel your breath there.
vamp!neighbor Jake who doesn’t realize his fangs have descended slightly when you laugh too close, only noticing when your eyes drop to his mouth — and he immediately turns away, jaw clenched.
vamp!neighbor Jake who expects you to scream when you finally see them clearly in the dim hallway light, but instead you just whisper, “Jake…?” and he looks more afraid than you do in that moment, taking a slow step back like he’s already preparing to disappear from your life.
vamp!neighbor Jake who admits it in the quietest, most strained voice possible, “I’m not… normal.” as if that isn’t the understatement of the century.
vamp!neighbor Jake who finally kisses you only after you pull him down first, hesitant, restrained, like he’s terrified of breaking something.
vamp!neighbor Jake who flinches when you step closer instead of away, hands trembling slightly at his sides because he doesn’t trust himself not to reach for you. Then he confesses, eyes fixed on the floor, “If you’re scared, I’ll leave. I won’t come near you again.”
vamp!neighbor Jake who grips the fabric of your shirt instead of your skin, forcing every instinct under control while his entire world narrows down to the warmth of your lips.
vamp!neighbor Jake who pulls away first, breathing uneven even though he doesn’t need air, forehead resting against yours as he whispers, “You don’t understand what you’re risking.” and melts completely when you answer, “Then teach me.”
vamp!boyfriend Jake who still stands a little stiffly when you hug him first, but melts a second later and wraps his arms around you like you’re the only warm thing in his entire immortal life.
vamp!boyfriend Jake who pretends he doesn’t like cuddling because “you overheat,” yet is always the one pulling you back against his chest when you try to move away.
vamp!boyfriend Jake who absolutely refuses to let you walk home alone at night, hands tucked in his coat pockets, acting casual while every shadow on the street is being silently evaluated.
vamp!boyfriend Jake who doesn’t need sleep but stays in bed anyway just to watch you dream, gently brushing your hair away from your face with the softest expression he never shows anyone else.
vamp!boyfriend Jake who texts you dry, short messages like “Eat.” and “Sleep.” but then sends a second one five minutes later “Text me when you do.”
vamp!boyfriend Jake who kisses your forehead more than your lips, like he’s still afraid of taking too much.
vamp!boyfriend Jake who gets shy when you call him “my boyfriend,” ears turning faintly red while he clears his throat and mutters, “Don’t say it like that.”
vamp!boyfriend Jake who instinctively shields you from the sun with his body even though he’s the one who’s supposed to hate it.
vamp!boyfriend Jake who freezes the first time you say “I love you,” staring at you like the words are something sacred — before replying quietly, seriously, “Say it again.”
vamp!boyfriend Jake who doesn’t need a heartbeat to survive, but swears yours is the only rhythm that makes him feel alive.
