fic recs!

by @blissfullsvn / @zerojisung

[ssunhyuck]

fic recs by @blissfullsvn / @zerojisung

likes from main blog: @zerojisung

[yakaiatori]

the phone tradition lee sangheyok.

pairing; highschool!riwoo x fem!reader wc; 514

synopsis you’re just quietly trying to survive with a book in your lap during p.e. then sanghyeok shows up—out of breath, smiling—and hands you his phone. that damn phone tradition.

a/n the clip..... explains everything here. anyways hello, this is my first work! hope u enjoy

you don’t even like p.e., neither sport.

you’re just sitting near the edge of the gym with your book, pretending to read while your classmates start stretching and chatting in their sports uniforms.

“he’s cute,” your friend mumbles, watching a group of boys walk past.

“wait—isn’t that sanghyeok?”

you glance up vaguely.

then freeze.

yes. that’s lee sanghyeok.

he’s in your grade. he dances at school festivals. once gave up the last strawberry milk at the canteen with a shy smile like it was nothing. always says “thank you” to the librarian. his voice is soft. his laugh is louder.

you’ve never talked. but you know.

suddenly, a few boys are pulling out their phones—handing them to girls nearby. some with confidence, some too awkward to meet anyone’s eyes.

your friend nudges you.

“that tradition thing again,” she grins.

“they say if a guy likes someone, he gives them his phone to hold before p.e.”

you scoff quietly. “sounds like a pretext for losing your screen protector.”

but then—

a shadow falls over your book.

you look up.

lee sanghyeok.

a little out of breath. smiling nervously. phone in hand.

“hey,” he says, breathless but cheerful. “could you—uh—hold this for me?”

you blink, unsure. “me?”

he rubs the back of his neck, looking everywhere but directly at you.

“i didn’t know who else to ask… or maybe i did. just—uh—yeah, never mind..”

you don’t even answer before he gently sets the phone on your lap and jogs off to join warm-ups.

you stare at it.

it’s warm.

the lock screen is a photo of a dog in a donut costume. you’re 97% sure he took it himself.

you sit very still. hands on your knees. like you’re guarding treasure. you pretend to read again. you don’t turn the page once.

after p.e., the boys are sweaty, laughing, dramatic like they’re in some teen drama.

he comes back. that soft, bashful grin again.

“thanks for guarding it,” he says, walking up to you, casual but a little shy.

“it didn’t explode, so… guess you’re trustworthy.”

you raise an eyebrow. “this is a trust test?”

he chuckles. shrugs. “sort of.”

“did i pass?”

he tilts his head. this time his smile is smaller, softer. “yeah. you passed.”

and that’s it.

or… it should be.

---------- ---------- ----------

except... that night?

you get a friend request from him.

then a message:

[lee sanghyeok]

thanks again for today :)

also…

do you like donuts?

your chest does something dumb and fluttery.

you reply:

[you]

depends why you’re asking

[lee sanghyeok]

…just thinking about what to bring to the library tomorrow

y’know, as a thank you

and maybe to… sit near you?

your fingers hover.

you smirk.

[you]

chocolate glazed. no sprinkles.

[lee sanghyeok]

got it. see you tomorrow :)

you close your messages.

and glance at the little donut keychain on your pencil case—the one you bought on a whim months ago.

coincidence? maybe.

but tomorrow, someone’s bringing you the real thing.

and weirdly enough, it doesn’t feel like a disaster waiting to happen.

☆ yakaiatori's

[taestulipss]

SNOW-KISSED | taesan x f! reader

DAY 5 OF: THE DOORSTEP DAILY: A DECEMBER ISSUE

SYN: You haven’t spoken to your best friend in weeks—not since that disastrous night. But when you find yourself stranded at the dorms for the holidays, and fate pushes you together once more—a Christmas miracle might just be in tow. WC: 3.8k GENRE: fluff, best friends to lovers WARNINGS: arguments, jealousy A/N: tysm to @astrae4 for planning this entire collab and all the amazing writers involved, it's been genuinly so fun to get to work alongside you guys! and an early merry chrysler to all you lovely readers!! hope you enjoy this one 🎄🫶🏻

bnd masterlist | perm tl | upcoming works

December 1st

On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to meee~

“Shut that thing off, or I’m drowning it in the sink again.”

“Jeez, good morning to you too,” Wonyoung pouts as she turns down the vintage radio on the vanity, twisting around to watch you grumble into your blanket. “What’s got you so Grinchy?”

“The weather,” you mumble, scooching deeper under the patchwork quilt. 

“Winter’s your favourite season,” she reminds you. 

“The birds are too loud.”

“Well, yeah… it’s six in the morning.”

“And the air is too cold.”

“We’ve got a space heater.” She nudges the metal appliance with a socked foot—fluffy white with prancing red reindeer. 

“December is cruel,” you whine, forgoing excuses altogether, simply satisfied with looking like a corpse under the layers of blankets and animal plushies. 

Wonyoung is unimpressed. She brushes her long hair down, watching your unbreathing figure in the mirror with a tired sigh. “What did Taesan do now?”

With a single sentence, she simultaneously opens the proverbial Pandora’s box and sets gasoline and fire to it. 

Han Taesan.

The devil in a school uniform, the bane of your existence—the man, the myth, the legend.

And additionally—your best friend, Han Taesan. 

“Do not speak of that moron ever again.” You crawl out of your bed to spit venom, staring daggers at Wonyoung’s reflection as she rolls her eyes—preoccupied with tying her ponytail back with a scarlet bow. 

In contrast, you’re still in your stained pullover that’s two sizes too big and murky grey sweatpants, sporting eyebags for days—red and puffy from crying all night. Safe to say, it isn’t your best look. 

It’s the first day of winter break: the boarding school grounds are packed with excited students eager to head home for the holidays and parents who wait with open arms to hold them. Snow dusts the windowsills, frost creeping up like vines over the glass panes. The watchman whistles a merry tune as he playfully salutes the cars away, a shovel in his other hand. 

The world holds its breath in anticipation of Christmas. 

And then there’s you… the picture of death—the fourth and final horseman, ready to strangle a man if need be.

“You need coffee.” Wonyoung gets up, lugging you forward by the forearm. “And some will to live if they have that at breakfast.”

//

On the first day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Heartbreak in a hoodie.

“So you’re saying,” your roommate neatly cuts into her omelette. “You fought over a dumb piece of clothing…?”

There’s no shame in your heart when you nod aggressively, chewing with enough force to break a molar—it isn’t just a dumb hoodie to you; this is serious business.

“He thinks he can just ask for it back! Like?” You use your hands to gesture widely. “Dude, we were fine one day, and then he’s demanding I return his clothes? The nice hoodie too!”

“It’s his clothes, though.” Her pragmatic answer earns her a vicious stare. “What!? I’m right, aren’t I? It’s not like you’re dating him or anything.”

“We’re best friends! That should count more than anything.” 

“Did you tell him that?” 

“I—” You did not. “I told him to return my vinyls.”

“Of course you did.” Wonyoung shakes her head in disappointment.

“And then he took his record player back, and then I had to take my DVDs back, and—”

“You guys have known each other since you were in the womb; why do you still fight like a pair of alley cats?” She sounds genuinely curious now, tilting her head.

“Precisely why we fight, my friend,” you say with a click of the tongue. “And also because he’s a moron.”

“He’s leaving home today, isn’t he? Aren’t you going with him?”

The fork in your hand slips out accidentally, landing on your plate with a clang. 

You hadn’t told her yet about the happenings of last night: the heated phone call with your mother, how she had scolded you for not understanding that both she and your father couldn’t make it back from their business trip on time as promised, and how you needed to be good and responsible and stay put until they could come back for you. How you were, essentially, stranded on campus for Christmas.

“Probably,” you lie, averting your eyes from hers.

“Y/N—”

“Hey, he can be petty all he wants, but his mom still loves me. She’d throw him away sooner than not choose me over that guy.” 

Your feigned confidence seems to work, and Wonyoung just laughs at your statement instead. 

In truth, you’re quite positive he’s already left—after some half-assed excuse to Mrs Han about why you were too busy to come down and say hi to her, while also staying completely oblivious to your current predicament. Hopefully he thinks you've gone home before he does.

Soon enough, Wonyoung will have left too, and you’ll be here all alone. 

Oh well… Here’s to the worst Christmas ever.

You toast an imaginary glass in your mind, preparing to rough it out underneath the blankets until the break is over and winter withers away. 

November 17th

On the second day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Two woollen gloves

And a heartbreak in a hoodie.

It started on a night that was like any other night.

Your elbows are linked with Taesan’s, boots inches deep in crunchy snow, leaving leg-shaped imprints as you trudge through. 

“How much longer?” You frown, blinking up at your school in the distance, spots of window lights signalling that you still had some time before curfew.

“This would be a lot easier if you could grow taller,” Taesan grumbles back, pulling you along with him.

You mutter some unsavoury words under your breath, quivering as the cold wind brushes over your cheeks and fingers, sending a wave of chill up your body. “Tae—”

“Here,” He’s already taking off the fuzzy black gloves from his hands, slipping them carefully over yours without letting you finish. “It’s kinda big, so don’t lose it in the snow.”

Taesan doesn’t wait for you to respond—he takes off once more, directing one of your hands into his coat’s pocket, keeping it warm with his body heat. 

But the pink tinge of his nose is unmistakably not from the cold. He only blushes that deep when he’s embarrassed—or when he’s trying to hide his affections under feigned nonchalance.

Han Taesan is easy to read, you think. It makes a giggle break free past your lips.

“What’s so funny?” Taesan narrows his eyes, challenging you to poke fun at him if you dare.

And of course, you dare. 

“Your fac—” you begin to retort, but the words lose volume when a buzz of chatter heads your way from the nearby trail through the snow. 

It’s a group—no, a horde—of students, all heading in the direction of the school, probably back from exploring the town the same way you were.

You spot several familiar faces amongst them: Leehan from Chemistry, Woonhak—the freshman who never returned your feathery pens (yes, multiple) back to you, and Danielle, who you swore had a crush on Wonyoung. The rest are friends of friends or acquaintances you’ve met in the hallway or at dinner on occasion. 

Woonhak brightens as his eyes land on you. “Y/N! You look like you’re about to freeze to death!” he says with a too-happy tone that makes you want to strangle him. 

You whip your hand out of Taesan’s pocket to carry through with the act. 

“Kim Woonhak, you brat.” You start chasing him around the circle. “Is that how you greet your elders? And give me back my pens!” You don’t even know why he needed all three out of your collection.

Woonhak weaves in and out between people to escape your wrath. “I swear, I don’t know where I put it!” He pleads for mercy.

After many more rounds, and a break for ragged heaving, you finally let up.

“Truce,” he begs, leaning on an amused Leehan, while Taesan glances sharply at the younger boy. “Take my scarf as compensation.”

On a better day, you might have held onto your pride and asked him to stuff the scarf down his throat. But today, you are cold, and you are severely underdressed. 

With a huff and a tut, you swipe it out of his offering hands, wrapping it around your freezing neck. Woonhak grins in relief. 

“You’re getting my pens back even if you die trying.” Your tone indicates that it’s not a request. 

Woonhak is attentive only to the fact that you aren’t about to let him bleed out in the snow at this very moment, and it drives him to engulf you in a bear hug. 

“Ugh,” you grumble, but still hug him back without reluctance. He could be cute when he wasn’t losing your things, you suppose. “Only because it’s Christmas.”

Woonhak prepares to squeeze you once more and spin you around in his rush of festive excitement, but the moment is broken with an annoyed cough. 

Taesan’s.

“Curfew. Late,” he sneers, a narrowed gaze flipping between you and Woonhak.

“Oh shit, you’re right.” Woonhak gasps, moving to grab Leehan’s arm. “Hyung, we should go now. Warden’s not gonna be as kind the third… wait, no—fourth time.”

The group moves along in front, speeding up to make it on time. You and Taesan linger behind them—the space between you suddenly quiet, tense. 

He doesn’t try to make conversation with you like he usually does, nor do you attempt the same back. When you grasp the frayed ends of Woonhak’s scarf to collect your thoughts, absentmindedly nuzzling into its hollow, Taesan seems to put more distance between you.

The walk back to the dorms is unbearably strange—he doesn’t drop you off at your room as usual, there are no verbal goodbyes, no fist bumps, no nothing—just a quiet jerk of the chin and the image of him walking away without saying anything more. 

Any hopes of things returning back to normal soon are severed the next day.

//

November 18th

On the third day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Three feather pens

Two woollen gloves

And a heartbreak in a hoodie.

“My gloves,” Taesan says monotonously. “Give it back.”

You lean against your door, scratching your hair. “What happened to hello? Good morning? How have you been, best friend?”

“Been great. Now gloves.” He makes a motion with his hands, and you frown.

“It’s in my jacket.” You yawn, pointing at the laundry hamper.

“Well, get it.” Taesan is impatient. “And my black hoodie with my varsity number. Y’know…the one you stole.” 

“Stole!? You lent it to me! I never even asked.” 

“Could have given it back after washing, no?” He crosses his arm, raising a brow, looking like the poster child for annoyance. 

“God, you’re such a jerk,” you huff, digging through your dirty hamper for his stupid hoodie you did not care for. “Here,” you throw it at his chest, and he winces. 

“Now the T-shirt from last year—”

“Okay, what is going on with you?” You stand akimbo, staring quizzically at him. Taesan looks away, nose flared. 

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“You,” he begins sharply, voice riding up an octave by accident. He forces it back to his normal pitch. “You’re so oblivious to everything, aren’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You feel your irritation turn into anger, your vision seeing red when you look at your best friend of close to two decades.  

“Exactly what I said,” he sneers. You want to punch that expression off his face. 

Taesan’s grip on the varsity hoodie tightens, and he refuses to meet your eyes still, dawdling at the foot of your door like he wanted to stay and fight. 

“Listen,” You suck in a breath, counting from one to ten. “Whatever problem you have, let's talk it out, yeah? And maybe not with my door wide open where everyone can hear.”

“What makes you think I want to talk?”

There he goes again, being difficult—making your life challenging on purpose, as though he gets some sort of pleasure from riling you up. 

“You know what, Taesan… ” You grab more of his clothes out of your wardrobe—some band tees, a couple beanies he’d tossed your way on winter outings, and a flannel shirt that hasn’t seen the light of day in ages. 

You seethe as you stuff a whole bundle of fabric into his unprepared hands, making him stumble in his spot. “Do what you want with your stupid clothes—burn them for all I care. Oh, and,” you curl your hands around the door handle. “Come back when you’re done sulking like a baby.” 

With that, you shut the door in his face.

It escapes your mind that the gloves he came for in the first place still lie neatly tucked into your jacket pocket. 

December 4th

On the fourth day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Four precious words

Three feather pens

Two woollen gloves

And a heartbreak in a hoodie.

It’s been three whole days since the winter break kicked off. 

You’ve been permanently living in sweats, the occasional shower being your only saving grace from making you look like a sewer rat. Your hair is deranged, your face unmoisturised and tired, and your bed etched with the weight and shape of you starfishing on top of it. 

The first human contact in days comes in the form of four knocks to your door. 

At first you don’t respond, chalking it up to one of the unfortunate faculty members who was forced to stay behind to keep an eye on the non-home-goers. They’d leave if you pretended to be asleep.

Except—

Four more knocks.

“Who the fuck—” You exhale angrily, throwing the blanket off of you and stomping over to swing the door open, only to be met with—"I… Taesan?”

He stands with his hand hovered awkwardly, evidently ready for another set of knocks.

“Uh,” he gulps, resembling a cat caught in a crime. “Hey.”

It occurs to you that his other hand holds a metal pot, the scent of rice and fermented vegetables taking over your senses; you have to remind yourself that you are still mad at him.

“What are you doing at school? Shouldn’t you be home by now?” You cross your arms over your chest.

“I could say the same for you,” he shoots back.

You’re already beginning to whack the door closed, but he’s quick enough to catch it with a palm. “Listen,” he says, sighing. “I’m… sorry, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Can I come in?” Taesan’s gaze lingers at your eyes, nothing close to his animosity from days ago. “Please?”

You find yourself letting him in. 

"Here," he pulls out your feather pens from his pocket. "I made Woonhak find them. It was with his laundry..."

You take it from him, unable to form a coherent thanks.

Instead you turn around, and gently place it down on the vanity.

“Mom said,” he begins, but you shush him with a motion of your hands.

“Lemme go shower first. I stink.”

He nods, settling the pot down on your chair, and letting you shuffle out the door with a towel and a spare change of clothes. 

When the water hits your head, you have to calm your racing heart down. 

Why is Taesan still here…? Why does he have his mom’s food with him? And most of all, why is he saying sorry? 

You didn’t expect any of this—honestly, you were prepared to slump out the rest of the break in the solitude of your room, waiting for the day he’d come back and both of you would have forgotten the fight for good.

But… he had said sorry. 

Why?

When you return, the sight that awaits you almost makes you drop your towel on the floor.

“Sannie?” You blink. 

Taesan is dragging two chairs to the centre of your dorm room, a horde of your blankets in his arms as though he were about to go do your laundry. The radio hums the sweet tune of ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’. At your voice, he turns to look at you—a small, nervous smile beginning to show itself on him.

“I’m… building a pillow fort,” he coughs out, trying to wave away the awkwardness. 

“Umm… why?”

Taesan shrugs. “For old time’s sake?” 

You know what he’s doing—the old trick his mom would use when the two of you quarrelled as kids. She’d push the couches and chairs together, throw plenty of sheets over them, and arrange layers of blankets underneath to set up a makeshift tent. There was no way either you or Taesan could resist crawling into its warmth. Then you’d spend all night dipping cookies into milk and reading fairy tales together.

It’s exactly what he’s trying to replicate.

Wordlessly, you join him in laying your duvet and quilt down on the carpeted floor, dimming the lights so that the only glow is a soft orange from your night lamp. Out the ajar windows, you can see the gentle snowfall, drifting to the melody of the carol as the moon hangs behind the canopy of milky-white trees. Songbirds sing along, their wings flecked with snow, settling your room in perfect bliss.

You scoot inside the fort as Taesan brings over the pot of kimchi fried rice. Your plushies (which you now remember had been won by him on your arcade trips from childhood) stare at the two of you from the sidelines, pillows lining every inch and corner of the fort. 

“I can get your gloves for you now,” you whisper, in fear of breaking the calm.

“It’s okay,” he pouts, softer. “I… It’s yours. I won’t ask for it back.”

“Oh… Okay.” You lower your head, fiddling with your fingers. Swirls of steam rise above the pot next to you, food still untouched. “So, why didn’t you go home?”

Taesan responds in the shiest voice you’ve heard from him, “Mom told me not to come back before making up with you. She came by to leave you some food, though…said she made it especially for you.”

“Oh.”

“And… Well, I wasn’t going to leave you alone. It’s Christmas… and I’d miss you too much.”

Now it’s your time to flush an embarrassing shade of ruby. Your hands instinctively hug a cat plush in your lap, and it only sends another wave of heat down your throat when you realise how similar it looks to Taesan.

“You called him taetnyangi.” He’s smiling, finally brave enough to look at you.

“I…remember now.” You nod. “You got it for me after we fought over the last candy bar, back in seventh grade.”

Taesan grins at the shared memory—fond of how softly the words leave your lips. He relaxes against a pillow at his back, letting the worries from before wash away under the hazy lights and nostalgic music. “I was jealous,” he says, eyes fixed on taetnyangi. “And angry at myself for being so…scared. And late.”

Your heart stutters. Everything feels dreamlike in this moment—something right out of a photo album from childhood. Or a precious memory to be recollected on particularly sentimental days. Taesan’s words don’t feel real. 

But he repeats again, louder, “When Woonhak gave you his scarf, and… and you accepted,” his chest is caught in a sharp inhale. “I thought you didn’t need my gloves anymore. It’s stupid, I know.” He smiles, and it hurts. “I thought…you didn’t need me anymore.

“I was gonna confess that night, before everyone interrupted us,” he adds with conviction, and his voice indicates he doesn’t expect a ‘yes’ from you—that he never did.

“Taesan—”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being a jerk to you—for pretending I came here to take my clothes back when… I wanted to apologise. It just scared me to tell you the truth.” Taesan’s voice breaks off into a thin sigh, his eyes downturned dejectedly. 

“Taesan—”

“I know I suck, and you deserve better. We’re always fighting, and half of the time it’s because I go too far with my teasing, but it’s only because I like seeing you angry, and,” he catches his breath, too trapped inside his own head. “I’m terrible at communicating and an asshole, and I don’t know how to be normal and just tell you I like you and—”

“Han Taesan, shut up,” you exhale a grin, stopping his ramble by leaning in to hold his face between your palms. “Say that again.”

“I’m… an asshole…?”

“The part after that.” 

He pouts shyly. “I…I like you, Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“I have since we were kids,” he confesses. “I never wanted to make you hate me.”

“I’d never hate you.” You shake your head, your eyes softening. “You’re my best friend.”

“I acted like a brat.”

“A moron,” you correct, coaxing out another pout from him—one that you swipe at with your thumb. “Can I..”

He quirks his head, confused. But it just makes him look cuter than he is. 

You clear your throat, embarrassed at having to spell it out. “Can I kiss you?” you end up mumbling, but Taesan’s red cheeks indicate that he’s heard you loud and clear.

He dignifies your question with a tiny nod. 

When your lips meet halfway, it’s clumsy and a little hesitant. He smells like candied apples—and winter. It makes you lean closer for a better taste. Taesan takes it as an invitation to press you closer, a warm hand coming to rest against your lower back, the other cupping your jaw to keep you both steady.

Opening your eyes, you see his half-lidded gaze, his profile washed in soft orange, the tender material of the blankets firm under your fingers. Under the canopy of mismatched bedsheets and linens, you see your best friend differently for the first time.

“Hey,” he pauses for just a couple seconds, enough to say, “Burn his scarf and I’ll give you the hoodie back.”

You burst out in laughter but agree to his ridiculous request with a nod. He grins bright and happy.

The clock strikes midnight, and once more, you’re melting into another kiss, like snow under sunlight.

December 5th

On the fifth day of Christmas

My true love gave to me

Five snow-kissed wings

Four precious words

Three feather pens

Two woollen gloves

And a daydream in a hoodie.

Taesan breaks away from your lips, letting his ghost against yours.

“Wanna go home with me tomorrow?” he asks, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. 

You nod. “Anywhere with you is okay.”

The fifth day of December brings you new understandings, the sweetest kisses you’ve ever tasted, and a pillow fort straight out of childhood dreams. When he catches your lips without holding back, the song comes to a peaceful end, leaving just the pleasant chirp of the birds to keep you company. 

This is what you know now: 

Home is a person, and yours is Han Taesan—and you’d be happier than ever to just spend Christmas with him here, in your house made of pillows and blankets.

fin.

main masterlist | perm tl | upcoming works

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inbox always open!

[showhay]

cardio

— kenma swears he’s not working out because of you. he just wants to make sure your air particles see him thriving.

kozume kenma x f!reader | fluff | request

at 01:43 i bypassed my writers block. this idea was inspired by the photo lol

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

kenma hates sweating. he hates running, he hates anything that makes his heart beat faster than when you so much as say his name. but for some reason—some deranged, love-fueled, no-good reason—he’s been doing push-ups.

and the playlist? oh, the playlist is criminal.

“for when y/n breathes near me.”

forty-seven songs. a mix of lo-fi beats, dramatic anime openings, one (1) taylor swift song he refuses to admit is there, and suspiciously upbeat tracks that sound like he’s trying to summon motivation from a higher power.

kuroo found it once.

"bro. bro." he said, looking at the screen like it was a sacred scroll of emotional damage.

kenma just stared back blankly. “don’t.”

"‘for when y/n breathes near me’?! this sounds like a religious experience, not a playlist!"

“i said don’t.”

he deleted it that night. and then made it again an hour later. with better cover art.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the truth is, kenma’s been spiraling. not in a dramatic, pacing-around sort of way—no, he spirals quietly. the kind of spiral where he blinks and realizes he’s been staring at your instagram story for ten minutes straight, just because your coffee had a heart in the foam.

he doesn’t even like coffee. but now, every time he walks past a café, his chest tightens like it’s a side quest he can’t unlock without your permission.

fukunaga found out about the playlist too. because of course he did. kenma accidentally connected his phone to the team’s bluetooth speaker during warm-ups. the gym echoed with “daylight” by taylor swift.

“yo, kenma,” kuroo grinned, already a menace, “you manifesting her or what?”

kenma turned red enough to power a small village.

“it was on shuffle,” he muttered.

“shuffle doesn’t explain the playlist title.”

“it’s— it’s for running.”

“uh huh,” kuroo said. “running from what, your feelings?”

it took three more months before kenma could make eye contact again.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

but here’s the thing: you notice. not the playlist (god forbid), but him.

the little ways he tries. the way he lingers by the vending machines after practice, pretending to scroll when really he’s waiting for you to pass by. how he brings extra drinks “just in case” you forget yours, though he phrases it like, “uh, i got two, you can have one, whatever.”

how his hand trembles when yours brushes his. how he still opens his games mid-conversation, but his thumb doesn’t move—just resting there, eyes flicking up at you like you’re something fragile and electric all at once.

you never tease him for it. instead, you smile that warm, easy smile that makes kenma feel like his ribcage might short-circuit.

“you’ve been working out?” you ask one day, half-teasing, half-genuine, after noticing the faint definition on his forearm.

he freezes. he doesn’t blink.

“uh,” he says intelligently.

you giggle. “you look good.”

and that’s it. that’s the moment his brain blue-screens. if love were a video game, you just entered god mode.

he goes home, collapses face-first onto his beanbag, and immediately opens spotify. he adds three new songs. the playlist is now titled

“for when y/n breathes near me (deluxe edition)”.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the next practice, kenma forgets his headphones.

it’s over for him.

fukunaga smirks the moment he realizes. “uh oh. no music today?”

kenma grunts.

“guess we’ll just have to motivate you the old-fashioned way,” kuroo chimes in. he cracks his knuckles like a cartoon villain. “what would y/n think if your arms didn’t look good enough?”

kenma’s head snaps up like he’s just been hit with a buff potion.

“shut up.”

“nah, come on, kenma,” kuroo continues, way too pleased, “you’re doing this for love, right?”

“he’s so in love,” fukunaga singsongs.

“shut up!” kenma yells again, voice pitching higher than he’d like. but his push-ups suddenly look perfect.

kuroo whistles. “look at that form. pure devotion.”

fukunaga nods solemnly. “if you don’t marry y/n, i will. think about it.” (YES FUKUNAGA PLS, MARRY ME)

kenma’s face burns. “you guys are—” he stops. no point arguing. his pulse is already running faster than his mouth.

the thing is… he kind of likes it. the thought of you watching. cheering. maybe smiling the way you do when he gets a serve right.

so he keeps going. push-up after push-up, until his arms shake and his vision blurs, all while imagining your voice saying, “you look good.”

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

you find out about the playlist by accident.

you’re hanging out at his place, both sprawled on his bed, your head resting against his shoulder as you scroll through tiktok. he gets a notification from spotify. a little banner slides down from the top of the screen.

“now playing: ‘for when y/n breathes near me (deluxe edition)’”

you blink.

he freezes.

the silence is deafening.

“...kenma.”

“delete me,” he mutters immediately.

you bite back a smile. “that’s— that’s so cute.”

“no it’s not.”

“it is!”

“it’s embarrassing.”

“it’s literally romantic.”

“no it’s— wait. really?”

you nod, smiling softly. “you made a whole playlist because of me?”

his cheeks turn pink, his eyes darting away. “i just— it helps me focus.”

“on what?”

“...breathing.”

you laugh so hard he hides his face in his hoodie.

but when you tug the hood down and press a kiss to his cheek, he swears the world glitches. time stutters. his heart restarts like an old console warming up again.

you whisper, “you don’t need music, you know.”

“huh?”

“i’m already here.”

and just like that, kenma forgets how to exist properly.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

later that night, kuroo texts him.

kuroo: heard you finally confessed

kenma: i didn’t confess

kuroo: you literally made her a playlist

kenma: it wasn’t for her

kuroo: the title says “for when y/n breathes near me (deluxe edition)”

kenma: shut up

he turns off his phone, rolls over, and smiles into his pillow anyway.

your laughter still echoes in his ears. your handprint still lingers on his heart like a soft static charge.

kenma isn’t the type to chase grand gestures or loud declarations. he’s the quiet type—the kind who falls in love silently, completely, like it’s something coded deep into his system.

but when you text him goodnight with a pink heart, he opens spotify and renames the playlist one last time:

“for when y/n exists.”

no irony. no embarrassment. just truth.

and maybe, if you listen close enough, you can hear him smiling between the beats.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

a: we’re on the verge of breaking up AND HE DOESN’T WANT TO RETURN MY HARDCOVER UZUMAKI MANGA, FUCK MY LIFE. I LOVE THAT BOOK 😭 I ALREADY GIFTED HIM ALMOST ALL OF THE VOLUMES OF SOLO LEVELING (the other ones were out of stock)

<taglist>

@lsirria @cvntyandfasionable @the-bloopsters @trulyylee @nelinkythoughts @kukikoooo @sleepykeijiii @briestrom94 @averys-place @reverd-ck @sxnnee @anzuuhoshi@evilari111 @rabbitcola @nivabiva @miilsa @katzline @asthmaticasma @meonelixir @michexoxo @pelicanpizza @harlisangels @x3nafix @knkzshx @zzzviix @meikstv @depressinglyobsessed @buriedfifi_ @keiob @ghostwifeyy @bigdaddyyaoii @perpetuallydone @mptality @qardasngan @crystal-lilac @methiart @wensurr @emotiandon @alyriaschoenheit

© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners. (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

iloveu

[seokmn]

︵⠀THE GLOSS ⠀◌Ⳋ ✧ ── it turns out dongmin really is the perfect boyfriend to test makeup on at the store.

pairing: dongmin x gn!reader wc: 1.2k words warnings: reader wears makeup lua's note: saw this tweet and had to do something about it..

ᯓ★ "so baby, put your lips on me"

To you, Dongmin was the best boyfriend ever for countless reasons, one of them being his enthusiasm and interest for anything that you seemed to like.

 With that being said, your dates at the mall were like heaven to you: you could stop at any store you wanted to and spend how much time you wanted without him rushing you.

 After taking a little break to eat and sit down a little bit, you took your lipstick from your purse to reapply it and let out a sigh when you opened its cap.

 “I'm running out of my favorite lipstick...” You pouted.

 “That’s okay,” Dongmin took his phone, opened the camera app and held the phone in your direction so you could use it as a mirror. “We’re already here, so let’s go to a makeup store and buy you a new one.”

 You glanced at him before concentrating on reapplying your lipstick and held back the urge to smile at his words.

 “Thank you,” you leaned back and pressed your lips together a few times before putting the makeup product back on your purse. “Now you got me all excited, can we go to the store now?”

 With a chuckle, Dongmin put his phone back in his pocket, stood up from his seat and reached out for your hand.

 “Let’s get going.”

 Once you reached the makeup store, you went straight to the lipstick’s brand aisle (after taking a look at products you weren’t even interested in buying on the way) and looked for the shade.

 “No way,” you gasped and Dongmin’s eyes flickered between the countless lipsticks on sale and your face, his brows raised in surprise at the gasp and curiosity. “This is the last one from my shade! I’m so lucky!”

 The boy’s curious face turned into a bright one as he laughed.

 “It’s like it was waiting for you!”

 “Who said it wasn’t?” You winked and then looked around. “You know.. I also need a new gloss…”

 “Oh yeah? Any gloss in mind?”

 You pressed your lips together and slowly shook your head. Dongmin let out a soft sigh in response and ran his fingers through his hair.

 “So I guess it’s going to take a little while, isn’t it?”

 “No, never.”

 Dongmin looked at you with a skeptical look on his face and you smiled shyly.

 “Okay, maybe just a liiiiiiittle bit”

 “Alright, as long as we still have time to go take a look at new shoes, you can take how much time you need.”

 Your smile lightened up as you started to walk away from that spot, taking a look at every product on the shelf and trying to find the gloss.

 Dongmin followed you right behind, watching you and also paying attention to the glosses, pointing at some and saying how they would look pretty on you, or how they would match with one of the lip combos you like to do. There was only one of them that made you agree with his statement and ask him to take it for you, while the others just made you give him a knowing look, which he would always reply to with the same i take it back look while putting his hands up in surrender.

 “Alright, we have 3 options, so you know what time it is, right?”

 “Test time!” Dongmin smiled.

 He was already used to watching you test the products on your hand or wrist, so he just stood still and watched you take a cotton pad and a disposable brush and apply some of the gloss on it. However, his eyes widened open when you started to apply it on his lips.

 “What- what are you doing?” He said without moving his lips too much, not wanting to make you mess up and scolding him for speaking while you were applying makeup on him.

 “Test time,” you focused on your task, your tongue sticking out in concentration. “Alright, look at the mirror and tell me what you think.”

 Dongmin looked at himself in the mirror and hummed.

 “I guess it’s fine, I don’t know too much about makeup, love. All I can say is that it’s pretty.”

 “Does it taste good?”

 He licked his shiny lips and frowned as soon as the taste touched his tongue. His hands immediately found their way to the cotton pad on your hands and wiped the product off his lips.

 “Tastes like shit.”

 “Really? I thought it’d taste good… Then let’s try this one.”

 He watched you take another disposable brush and apply another gloss on it.

 “Why am I being the model this time?” He asked while you applied the gloss on his lips once again. “I mean, I don’t mind at all, but I’m curious because I was never the model before.”

 “Because we’re talking about something that you’ll be also using if we think about it. What’s the point of using a pretty gloss if my boyfriend won’t like to kiss me while I’m wearing it?”

 Dongmin smiled at your thoughtful action and pouted in a teasing way.

 “Then go ahead, your model is more than ready.”

 “Silly,” you laughed and smacked his arm in a playful way. “Tell me about this one.”

 He looked at himself in the mirror, his expression dead serious while he pressed his lips against each other and licked them.

 “It’s a pretty color, the glitter on it is not too much, but also not too little, and it tastes good,” he pressed his lips once again. “But it feels tacky.”

 “Damn, you’re not just a model anymore,” you took a cotton pad and gave it to him. “You’re an analyst.”

 “You gave me a very serious task,” he wiped the gloss off. “So I have to do it properly, right? Let’s go, time for the last one.”

 “All righty,” you repeated the same process and started to apply the last option on him. “You have such pretty lips, love.”

 “Don’t make me blush here…”

 “I mean it, I always get myself staring at them wishing you’d apply super glue on them and kiss me, so we would always have your lips pressed together.”

 “Weirdo,” he laughed and tried to brush off the fact that he blushed by looking in the mirror before you tell him to. He did the same thing as before, checked his lips in the mirror very carefully, pressed his lips against each other and groaned when he licked them. “This is the one. It doesn’t have too much glitter, the color is pretty and subtle and the taste…” He licked his lips again. “The taste is amazing, something out of this world.”

 “Really?”

 “Yes! Here, taste it,” he pecked your lips and smiled when you leaned back with surprise all over your face. “C’mon, taste it.”

 You hesitantly licked your lips, still trying to process your boyfriend’s sudden action, but that was soon replaced in your mind with how good the gloss tasted.

 “Oh my god it’s so good.”

 “I told you!”

 “They shouldn’t make such a tasty gloss, I might eat it instead of actually using it,” you looked at yourself in the mirror to check how the gloss looked on you. “And it looks good on me! You’re right, Dongminnie, this is the one.”

 Your boyfriend took two of the picked gloss and also the lipstick you were holding.

 “Let’s pay for these.”

 “Wait.. Why two of them?”

 “Because I have the feeling you’ll be running out of it sooner than you expected.”

[fgumi]

🌿•₊✧💻⋆⭒˚☕️｡⋆ CATCH A BREAK

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!taesan x reader, GENRE; fluff, romance, uni!au, one shot, WC; 5.9k, WARNING(S); profanity, alcohol consumption, ASK; maybe you cld write a scenario for bnd's taesan? where he's in university and he meets the reader, A/N; for @dendrobiumorchid, hey! hey... it's been a long time since you sent this request in... i finally caught the writer's wind to write it. i don't know if it fully captures what you wanted, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless because i loved writing it heh. }

taesan sighed. a new semester. the last one was hardly kind to him. he knew mechanical engineering was going to be a difficult major. he thought, at the very least, he’d enjoy the college experience. but, no… meche was leeching away at his very soul. when will he catch a break?

soon, apparently.

first day of class and everyone was buzzing with excitement, fresh off the break sharing vacation stories and whatnot. they were so loud. his break was just him working, spending a few days of the holiday with family, working, contemplating whether or not engineering was for him, and… you guessed it. working.

he trudged into the lecture hall, the strap of his backpack barely hanging onto his shoulder, and sat himself in the back. because it was a required course, the class was full. more people filed in, sitting any spot that they could find.

the professor strode in, silencing the crowd with an authoritative tap on the microphone. a syllabus and a couple of slides later, taesan’s eyes briefly flickered to the creaky doors opening. he watched as you hurried in, windswept hair, silently apologizing to your professor before making your way to a seat.

—

you groaned. you could not have had a worse start to your semester. you barely managed to make it back to campus this morning after your flight was continuously delayed. you planned to come the day before so you could situate yourself a little, but all you had time to do was chuck your suitcases in your room and sprint to class. not to mention, tabling for the semester had started and everyone was trying to get people to join their orgs. usually, you’d stop and listen intently, but today was not that day. the tablers thought otherwise though. not one, not two, but three people stopped on your mad dash to class.

are you interested in joining ballroom dancing? not really! sorry! i’m late to class!

would you like to join women in stem? i would but can’t right now! late!

do you wanna donate to sigma alpha epsilon? NO! can’t you see i’m fucking late?

oops. you felt bad (not really). you’re usually a very polite person. today was just not your day.

you managed to find your lecture hall, only 10 minutes late. you tried to open the doors silently, except they had no plans to stay silent. the squeaky hinges alerted your professor that you arrived. you sheepishly bowed, trying to convey your apology, before trying to find a seat. a seat in this full lecture. wow. this was awkwa— oh! there’s a seat!

your eyes met another’s. instinctually, you averted your gaze, focusing on your feet as you made your way to the empty seat.

since it was in the middle of the row and you didn’t feel like crawling over all those poor people, you climbed all the way to the back of the room. when you got behind the empty seat, you noticed a backpack on it. you looked at the girl on the right and saw her backpack by her feet. so, you safely assumed it was the guy on the left’s. you crouched down and tapped his shoulder. he glanced over, meeting your eyes. oh shoot. it was the guy you made awkward eye contact with.

“i’m so sorry, but do you mind if i sit here?” you whispered. he just nodded and removed his backpack, turning back to his notes.

you dropped your backpack in front of the seat and stiffly climbed over, careful to not kick anyone’s head. once you plopped in your seat, you quickly got your laptop out, taking notes over what your professor was currently speaking about.

—

a wildly awkward entrance. an even more awkward attempt at silently getting into the seat beside him. taesan wanted to laugh. not at you, persay. there he sat thinking that his life sort of sucked, but then you came in. flushed and looking a bit out of place. as sorry as it might be, he found some comfort in your misfortune.

at the end of the lecture, taesan felt the tension leave your body—or rather, saw—when your body melted in the seat and you threw your head back with a groan. while he packed up his pencil case, he caught you scrolling through the lecture pdf, trying to see what you missed. he could offer you his notes. taesan looked down at his notebook… maybe not. he doubted that you’d be able to read it.

before he could make up his mind, you slammed your laptop shut and shoved it in your backpack. you followed the rest of the stragglers out of the lecture hall, leaving taesan to retract his hand and close his mouth with words left unsaid.

now, taesan didn’t give you much thought after that. why would he? he didn’t know you. but, you did start appearing in his head after he noticed that you kept sitting by him for the following lectures. like you were assigned that seat.

you weren’t late anymore. sometimes, you were even earlier than him. this led to the two of you sharing polite nods and pleasant smiles but nothing more. until a month in.

he knew from the syllabus that grading was divided between attendance, exams, and partner projects. was he looking forward to those projects? absolutely not. he hated them. people inevitably got distracted and couldn’t manage their own pace.

by the end of lecture, he was paired with some guy named jaehyun for the first partner project. the guy seemed great. a little too social for his liking, though. in taesan’s mind, overly social people tended to be less committed to completing their part of the project. so, he mentally prepared himself to do the majority of it by himself.

but, taesan also found himself a bit disappointed. he didn’t have anyone that he would have preferred over jaehyun—he didn’t know anyone in that class—but he was curious about you. he’s seen how you take notes. you followed the lecture and put in your own comments between content notes, little things here and there that personalized your learning. he admired it. so much so, taesan started doing it himself. he wondered what your name was…

taesan didn’t have to wonder for too long. in the middle of one of his and jaehyun’s meetups, you came bouncing along.

“hey, myungjae!” you smiled. that was new. the only facial expressions taesan had ever seen on you was confusion, despair, and frustration. this… this was a nice change.

jaehyun waved back with a big grin. “well, if it isn’t the queen herself, miss y/n.”

taesan noted your name, saying it a couple of times in his head. it was a nice name. it suited you.

you rolled your eyes and gave him a smack on the shoulder. “stop calling me that. literally no one else calls me that.”

“i’d beg to differ.” jaehyun wiggled his finger at you. “leehan calls you that all the time.”

“that’s only because i feed his fish when he’s at work,” you replied. you glanced at taesan curiously before recognition bloomed on your face. “hey! you’re the guy that i sit next to in class.”

taesan awkwardly smiled. “ya… i’m taesan.”

“y/n,” you nodded back, returning his smile with the same cordial one you give him in class. (darn. taesan felt disappointment when you didn’t give him the same smile as jaehyun. why was he disappointed?) you turned your focus back to jaehyun. “i didn’t know you knew taesan.”

“we’re partners for the partner project!”

you blinked. “what partner project?”

jaehyun sighed, giving you a flat look. “the one in class?”

one. two. three. four. five—

“holy shit! you’re in that class too?” you exclaimed with wide eyes.

jaehyun clutched his chest, throwing himself to the side. “my queen doesn’t perceive me. she doesn’t even know we share a class together.”

taesan watched as you wrestled jaehyun, who was being dramatic and acting like you were actually hurting him. you were a brighter person outside of class, knowledge that taesan wouldn’t have been privy to if it weren’t for this partner project. taesan found himself smiling at your light laughs and quips about jaehyun’s airheadedness. he glanced at the time. shoot. he had to go to work.

“sorry,” taesan said as he packed up his stuff. “i gotta head out, but we can text about the rest of the stuff.”

you pulled away from jaehyun, letting the poor guy catch his breath. “oh my— i’m so sorry. i didn’t realize that i was bothering you guys for that long.”

taesan waved nonchalantly. “it’s okay. this was more of an impromptu, just to iron out some details. we were practically done when you came.”

you pouted. cute. cute? cute? taesan internally froze. you were cute?

whatever you said after, he didn’t catch. his mind was currently scrambling about how he found someone (you) cute. he subconsciously nodded at whatever you were saying and made his leave, making an excuse that he was about to be really late. as he hurried away, he heard you tell jaehyun. “maybe he doesn’t like boba.”

funny you should say that. he was on his way to his job… which was making boba.

as taesan sealed the drink he was currently making, his thoughts drifted back to you. the girl that sat next to him during class. the girl that he academically admired enough to copy her notetaking style. the girl that very awkwardly made an appearance in his life. the girl he found cute.

after he called out the drink, he turned and groaned, leaning on his coworker, woonhak. “woonhak, i think my years are getting to me.”

woonhak, his junior by two years, patted him on the head. “you are getting old, man. but, don’t worry. i hear that the standard of living for old people is getting higher.”

taesan whipped his head up and punched woonhak’s shoulder. as the younger man whined and rubbed his shoulder, taesan rinsed the dishes in the sink.

“okay, i’ll bite. what makes you say that?” woonhak asked.

taesan shook his hands before wiping away the excess water off with a rag. “there’s this girl—”

“a girl!?” taesan’s glare silenced woonhak’s exaggerated gasp.

“i knew her—well, not really—but i finally met her and… i found her cute…” taesan trailed off, putting away the refrigerated items left on the counter.

“hold on. you found a girl cute,” woonhak tilted his head. “and that’s why i became a victim of violence? dude, it’s normal to find people attractive.”

“i know. it’s just that i’ve been knowing her. she sits next to me in class. it’s just… i didn’t think of her as anything until i knew her name,” taesan murmured.

woonhak stroked his chin. “names are a powerful kind of magic.”

taesan stared at woonhak blankly before sighing. “you’ve been playing d&d too much.”

woonhak’s cheeks puffed out, his defense bubbling in his throat before he noticed the customer at the register. he turned to them and put on his brightest smile. “hi! what can i get you today?”

taesan moved beside woonhak to hear the order when he heard his name from a familiar voice. “taesan?”

he looked up and saw you. you brightened when you saw that you were right. “you work here?”

at that moment, he thanked his barber for accidentally leaving the sides of his hair long because he knew the tips of his ears were beginning to redden. “oh, hey. ya, i do.”

“i guess you do like boba! when you didn’t reply to my offer to buy you boba, i thought you hated it or something.” your grin was very blinding. at least to him, seeing how he was only familiar with the details of your face when you were feeling negative emotions. wait. details of your face? oh shoot. taesan was screwed.

he let out an awkward chuckle. “ya… i didn’t see a point since i work at a boba shop…” you offered to buy him boba? as an apology for interrupting his meeting with jaehyun? fuck, he didn’t hear that.

“oh… well! how about i buy you food instead? i feel really bad about the whole—”

“no! it’s okay. really…”

you blinked at his interjection and then laughed. “well, you can’t stop me from tipping you then. you do get your tips, right? i heard some owners don’t give their employees the tips.”

woonhak gasped. “are you serious?”

you nodded earnestly. “my friend, leehan, doesn’t get the tips because he gets paid a flat rate. it’s stupid, really. so, i just venmo him the tip.”

“that’s diabolical. that should be illegal,” woonhak sighed with a shake of his head.

you hummed in agreement before looking up at the menu. “do you mind if i order?”

“oh, not at all!” woonhak’s hand hovered the screen. while you were still contemplating your order, taesan braved taking a glance at your face. what details was he remembering?

your overall face did seem happier than what he was used to in class. you seemed lighter. the corners of your lips weren’t downturned like usual, quirked the slightest bit upward as you pouted. your tired eyes were brighter, glistening almost, like they held more life. usually, you looked dead, focusing on the lecture and your notes. your hair was more kempt, though he did find himself liking the messy updos you did in class.

“and will that be all?” woonhak’s voice broke his train of thought. taesan blinked. he missed your entire order. he looked at the pos and saw an oolong milk tea with grass jelly. coincidentally, his favorite drink. it’s like fate— no. he is not letting himself get delusional.

he forced himself to make the drink quickly, handing it to you after wiping it down. you smiled at him. “see you in class!”

taesan’s gaze lingered on you as you walked away until you were out of view. he turned to woonhak who was already looking at him with a smirk.

“oh. you’ve got it bad,” woonhak laughed. he clapped in excitement and threw his arm around taesan’s shoulders. “don’t worry. i think you got a chance.”

woonhak released taesan to check how much of a tip you left. his eyes widened before he hit taesan’s arm. “dude, you definitely got a chance. she tipped $20.”

taesan gawked at the amount. you were generous. it made him smile a bit, but he schooled his expression. he couldn’t give woonhak more things to tease him about. he’d just have to thank you in class.

and he did. thank you, that is.

you just brushed him off with a smile, saying it was no big deal. but, the smile was different this time. no strain. the politeness was still there, but there was more. genuine joy. not as big as the one you gave jaehyun, but better than the one you usually gave him. it felt nice. but, with this, he was scared. what if he started craving more? like seeing you out of class? or trading numbers to compare notes? well, now that he put that into his head, taesan was definitely gonna start hoping that. stupid.

as much as he tried to stamp those feelings down, over the next few weeks, he did start seeing you more out of class. out of coincidence, of course. it started with small waves across the food hall. then, it was whenever you passed each other on campus. then, it was at jaehyun’s party.

“dude, you need to come. you literally carried the whole project. the least i could do is help you unwind this weekend.” jaehyun’s eyes were round and hopeful. it was hard to say no. so, taesan said yes.

taesan isn’t a partier though. he actually hates crowds. they’re loud, messy, and… sticky—whether it be from sweat or spilled alcohol… he dreaded to think of any other reasons. but, jaehyun reassured him. it’d be a get-together in his apartment, so the crowd won’t be too big. taesan somehow doubted it, but he still found himself going. with woonhak, of course.

“can’t believe you know the myung jaehyun and you’re inviting me to one of his parties,” woonhak said, jumping with excitement. “he only ever invites his circles and they’re all cool.”

taesan rolled his eyes as they walked to jaehyun’s apartment. “this isn’t some hallmark movie, woonhak. everyone’s normal. they aren’t any cooler than you or me.”

taesan didn’t often take back his words. he prided himself on only sharing universal facts or opinions that he firmly stood by. but, there you were, making taesan eat his words. you were off to the side behind a small dj set, mixing some of the best club mixes he’s ever heard.

woonhak bumped his shoulder, returning with two drinks in his hand. “they aren’t any cooler, huh? that’s not what your face says.” woonhak sipped his drink as taesan absentmindly took his.

you looked so free. headset wrapped around your neck, hands busy with the dials. you were the definition of cool. you just mixed girls generation’s gee into gd x taeyang’s good boy. who does that? you. you did that. and, people were eating it up, loving the build up and drop.

what he’d usually think is just loud noise, taesan found himself enjoying, grooving with woonhak who was having a blast.

“yooo! taesan! you made it!” jaehyun approached him with open arms. taesan moved his drink just out of reach before jaehyun gave him a bear hug. “i honestly wasn’t sure if you were gonna come! i was scared i got y/n’s hopes up for nothing!”

you were hoping he’d come? though taesan was smirking, internally, he was doing flips and feeling mildly shy. “apparently, i could miss the myung jaehyun’s party.”

“please! it’s just a get-together,” jaehyun said with a shrug.

taesan’s eyebrow quirked. “a get-together… with a dj?”

jaehyun glanced at you before grinning brightly. “it’s just y/n! even though her mixes are insane.”

taesan laughed before taking a sip of his drink. the burn of alcohol was slight but enough to make him recoil a bit. jaehyun laughed at his reaction. “is it strong? i told y/n to go easy on the tequila.”

at taesan’s shrug, jaehyun just patted him on the back. “come on! let’s go say hi to y/n!”

jaehyun grabbed his arm and pulled him a step forward before turning back to woonhak. “you too!” jaehyun let go of taesan to wrap his arm around woonhak’s shoulder, pulling him and taesan through the crowd. when they approached you, you were talking to another guy who was leaning a bit close for it to be a casual conversation. it made taesan squirm inside. alright, let’s calm down. she’s just your classmate.

you looked up from your conversation and yelled. “taesan! you came!”

when the guy looked put-off by you pulling away from him, taesan couldn’t help but feel a bit smug. but, there’s nothing to feel smug about. stop it. just because you were coming up to taesan right now with open arms and the world’s most blinding smile—it doesn’t mean anything. because taesan doesn’t have a crush on you.

you wrapped your arms around him and he gently returned it. you pulled away, only slightly, to look up at him. taesan could make out the slight blush—he means flush—on your cheeks. you gave him a dopey smile. “i’m glad you came! i’m a bit tipsy heh.”

as if taesan caught on fire, you jumped back and covered your gasp with your hand. “sorry! i don’t know if you’re comfortable with hugs. i should’ve asked before—”

“you’re fine, y/n.” taesan softly patted your head which made you smile again.

you turned to woonhak and pointed. “boba guy!”

woonhak sheepishly waved back when jaehyun grabbed him by the shoulders. “do you work at the boba shop?”

woonhak nodded, leaning back slightly at jaehyun’s closeness. jaehyun suddenly hugged him. “dude, you’re my new friend. i freaking love boba.”

you side-eyed jaehyun. it was a cute expression. shit. no. stop it, taesan.

you abruptly linked your arm with taesan. “well, taesan’s been my friend and he also works at the boba shop. i had an insider before you.” you stuck your tongue out at jaehyun before leaning up to whisper in taesan’s ear (which was heating up at your proximity). “i don’t want free boba or anything. i’m just competing against jaehyun.”

“ya, right. you don’t even have your friend’s number,” jaehyun scoffed, jutting his hip out sassily.

your jaw dropped. you scrambled to pull out your phone. “i’m sorry, but would you mind giving me your number?”

taesan could see woonhak smirking out of the corner of his eye. he held back his sigh. he was definitely gonna hear about this at work. he took your phone and put in his number, saving himself as taesan (seatmate). when he returned it to you, you pouted. he watched you type on your phone before you showed him your screen. taesan 🐈‍⬛🥳.

“you’re not just my seatmate, silly. you’re my friend!” if you grinned any wider, taesan was scared he was going to be permanently blinded. he just smiled at you and patted your head again.

“yes, ma’am,” he replied softly. your eyes crinkled and taesan didn’t know how he was still standing. he’ll finally admit it to himself. you were cute, so painfully cute.

the night continued with you and jaehyun bickering between songs, jaehyun whisking away woonhak to show him all his pokemon cards, you asking taesan a million questions about himself, and taesan returning the favor by asking “what about you?”.

by the end of the party, taesan knew that you preferred listening to soft songs over the k-pop edm that you mix. he knew that you loved feeling the sun on your face but also got really sleepy from it. he knew how you took your matcha (not coffee because you couldn’t handle how bitter it was). he knew that you couldn’t internalize study material without eating ramen at least twice during your study session. he knew a bunch of things about you now. the downsides? he admits he has crush on you and it’s grown and may have a tiny chokehold on him.

of course, it wasn’t confirmed until he noticed himself searching for you in ordinary things. every matcha order he makes, he thought about how you’d rate it based off of your order. every time the sun peaked through the clouds, he thought about how you’d wanna take a nap. every song he came across, he thought about putting it in a playlist he most certainly did not make after learning about your preferences.

okay, so maybe he did like you a little more than he initially thought. but, it doesn’t stop him from acting normal in class. thank goodness. you two carried on, attending lectures now as friends. you indeed did start comparing notes after exchanging numbers, studying together in your apartment even. taesan found himself amused whenever you stopped to make some ramen. you started hanging out from time to time, jaehyun and woonhak included at the most random times. but, he cherished when it was just you two. and, usually, it was when you wanted to go on nightly bike rides.

“it’s too dangerous for me to walk. at least, on a bike, i can speed away from any assailants!” you explained to him with determination. he shook his head, finding you endearing.

it was after these nights that taesan knew he was falling in love with you. whenever he was at work and couldn’t text you, woonhak said he was sulking too much, being more unapproachable than usual. sometimes, he’d make your matcha order just to better remember the time you introduced him to your favorite matcha place. during other partner projects, he thought about how you might go about the topics. on his walks home after work, he wished he was out riding bikes with you, screaming about everything and nothing. whenever he heard k-pop songs playing at work, he thought about the new mixes you’d send him for a sneak peak. on the days the wind was a little harsh on the way to class, he’d crave the way you’d subconsciously cuddle into his side.

one day, you didn’t show up to class. taesan waited. 10 minutes turned into 20, then 30. taesan could hardly focus on the lecture. where were you? he shot you a text. are you okay?

you sent one back just as fast. i feel like there’s a rave going on in my head :(

excuse me? taesan stared at his phone concerned. do you need to go to the er?

noooo! i’m just gonna rot in bed and hope the vaporub does its magic 🙂

as soon as the professor dismissed everyone, taesan shoved everything in his backpack haphazardly and rushed out. what makes sick people feel better? soup, right?

he quickly texted woonhak, asking him to cover his shift. when woonhak agreed and probed why, taesan just said your name. woonhak didn’t ask after that. he just sent a smirking emoji that taesan rolled his eyes at.

he rushed home and put a pot on the stove. he threw open his fridge, glasses clinking violently. taesan stared at his fridge for ingredients. he knew the turmeric in the seasoning pantry would help. he had half of his rotisserie chicken left. he looked at the carrots but remembered you weren’t a fan. he noted the minced ginger and lemons. okay, chicken noodle soup. a classic.

taesan got to work, chopping up all the ingredients in bite-sized pieces and shredding the chicken. he grabbed the chicken stock from his pantry and poured it into the pot. he threw garlic, ginger, turmeric, onions, celery, etc. and started heating it up. he taste-tested every so often, making sure that it’d at least taste good. by the end, taesan was proud to say it was definitely homemade chicken noodle soup. he sprinkled in some cayenne since he knew how much you liked spicy food. he packed it all up in a soup container and texted you. omw to yours!

he stared at the box on his counter, debating whether or not to give it to you. would this be a good time? would it seem inconsiderate? taesan groaned before tucking it under his arm and heading out. his phone buzzed, a reply from you. but you might get sick :(

taesan smiled and shook his head. as if that would stop him from seeing his girl. oh. his girl? you’re not his girl. yet, he hoped.

he near sprinted to your apartment, waving down the people in the lobby to fob him up to your floor. before he knocked on your door, he caught his breath, trying to appear normal. after a few minutes, he knocked and was surprised by how quickly you answered.

oh, you were so cute, wearing a snuggie and the fluffy cat pajama pants he got you for secret santa.

“you didn’t have to come,” you croaked, moving aside so he could step in. as you closed the door behind him, you peered curiously at the box in his arms. “whatcha got there?”

taesan turned and presented you the box. “i made you soup since you’re sick and all.”

you tilted your head in confusion. “where’s the soup?”

he looked down at his hands. holy— where’s the soup? then, he remembered. when he finally decided to bring the box, he forgot to grab the soup on the counter. he groaned and hung his head.

“i might have forgot it,” he muttered. he’s so stupid. how could he forget the whole purpose of him coming here?

you giggled and then winced. “well, what did you bring instead?”

taesan quickly hid the box behind his back and nervously laughed. “nothing! nothing. how about i go back to my apartment and bring the soup?”

“you don’t have to,” you shook your head slowly. “you can, however, tell me what the box is.”

“uh, i’m gonna go back and get the soup!” taesan yelped as he shuffled around you, careful to keep the box out of your reach.

you frowned (cutely, taesan would add). “but, you’re already here. so is the box.”

“how about i give you the box after i get the soup?” taesan tried to reason.

“how about you leave the box and go get the soup—so you don’t forget it again—and i take a peak in the box?” you suggested cheekily. you wiggled your eyebrows at him, swaying a little. oh, how taesan would never win against you.

“if you promise to wait until i give you the soup, i’ll leave the box.”

you paused and thought about it. you sighed and agreed in defeat. “fine. i’ll wait.”

“good girl,” taesan smirked as he set the box on the kitchen counter. you handed him your keys as he opened the door. “i’ll know if you tried to open it by the way.”

as you rolled your eyes, taesan left, his heart racing. he really hoped you wouldn’t open the box until he was back. what if you didn’t wanna see him after? he wouldn’t be able to give you your soup and then he’d have to eat this soup knowing that you hated him.

the anxiety fueled him. he did a full sprint to his apartment and raced up the stairs. he snatched the soup container and raced back down. like the world was smiling down on him, people were already going into your complex so he slipped in with them. he couldn’t stop tapping his foot impatiently, glaring at the numbers going up slowly. when it finally stopped on your floor, his feet stomped down the hall to your door.

he opened your apartment door to see you on the couch, poking at the box sadly. when you heard him come in, your head whipped up which made you wince. he shook his head and lightly scolded you. “you’re gonna make your headache worse.”

“i was just excited to see you,” you muttered. man, that made him a bit hopeful.

he smiled as he dug through your drawers for a spoon before presenting you with the soup. you clapped softly and took it. “did you make it?”

taesan nodded shyly. “sorry if it doesn’t taste that good. but, it will help you get better. so, i expect you to finish it.”

when you took your first sip, taesan could’ve sworn your eyes twinkled.

“taesan, no joke, this is so good,” you praised, taking more spoonfuls.

taesan let out a sigh of relief before plopping down next to you. “i’m glad. i would’ve gone home and cried if you said it was bad.”

you hummed before setting down the soup. you faced him, then pointed at the box. “can i open it now?”

just like that, tension reentered his body. fuck. he did say that he’d give it to you after he got the soup. “y-yes?”

grinning, you grabbed the box and began to open it. taesan leaned forward and placed his hand on top of the box. “before you open it, can you promise me one thing?”

you looked at him, blinking in confusion. “what’s up?”

“you won’t hate me after?” taesan hated how desparate that came out.

you just laughed and grabbed his hand. wow, yours were so warm.

“taesan, i could never hate you—unless this box was holding my mom’s head in it. sorry, that was morbid.” it was your turn to nervously laugh. but, for whatever reason, it let taesan relax a little.

when you opened the box, a soft gasp left you. you pulled out the ippodo kanza matcha and the matcha bowl taesan crafted for you in a pottery class he took. you placed them on the counter as taesan watched in anticipation. you took out the spotify code tag that taesan had bought from etsy. then, the small jar full of folded up papers followed. finally, you found the letter sitting at the bottom.

taesan was itching, his breathing becoming uneven. he stood up, startling you, and sat at the dining table. you looked at him confused.

“sorry, i don’t think i can be next to you when you read that,” taesan laughed oddly.

you snorted and opened the letter. he couldn’t watch you read it. he fiddled with his fingers, letting himself pick out the details on the textured walls of your apartment.

he couldn’t bear thinking of what you’d think of his letter. it contained everything. how he really treasured your friendship. how he treasured you.

how he loved how particular you were about your matcha. how he loved your studying quirk of eating ramen twice. how he loved riding bikes at night with you. how he loved your dj music even though he hates edm.

how you changed his college experience. how engineering, though it was still hard, became bearable after meeting you. how you made this semester the happiest semester of his life. how your smiles became his encouragement. how your laugh was best kind of music life had to offer. how warm your presence was even during the coldest days. how he wanted to be that person for you.

how he wanted to be the guy that makes the matcha that makes you hum in happiness. how he wanted to be the one making you your second and third ramen on a particularly rough study night. how he wanted to keep being the only person you sent your new mixes to. how he wanted to be yours if you’d have him.

it was cheesy, taesan knows. but, it was his feelings. the feelings that he tried to eat and forget about.

when he heard sniffling, he glanced up at you. tears had welled up in your eyes, a few droplets making their way onto the letter. you lifted your head, trying to will the tears back into your tear ducts. your reaction had taesan nervous. were these good tears? were these goodbye tears? did he ruin everything? did he—

“come over here, stupid.” you glared at him. taesan hesitantly returned to his spot on the couch. you pulled out your phone and tapped away before giving him your phone. he gingerly took it.

my bf 🥰

oh… you were dating someone else… that’s embarrassing. taesan should’ve known. were there signs he ignored? was he that blind? this was—

as if you read his mind, you leaned over and opened your text messages with your boyfriend. it felt wrong looking at them. but, taesan couldn’t help but peak at them.

oh. oh! taesan’s head whipped up and stared at you with his mouth open. these were the texts between you two.

“yes, you big, slow dummy. i would love for you to be mine because i’ve been yours since forever.”

so, yes. taesan did catch a break. he caught the biggest break of his life. you.

bonus moment!

“do you have the lecture notes from today?” you asked, drinking the lukewarm soup. taesan rubbed the back of his neck, nervously laughing. “i… i couldn’t pay attention.” you lifted your eyebrow. “you couldn’t pay attention?” “i was worried about you,” he murmured, looking away from you. he heard soft rumbles and peaked over when they became full-on laughs. you hid your face in your hands before looking at him with the same brilliant smile he became infatuated with. “i guess we’ll have to rewatch the lecture together.”

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too! you may now leave requests (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

tagged; @onedoornet @en-dream @heeheesang @prettyange1 @bee-the-loser @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou @pumpkg

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ NOT THAT I CARE OR ANYTHING　　────　ᅠ ( han taesan )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your ex, seemingly sweet anton, spreads malicious rumours about you that could potentially ruin your entire academic weapon career, so you have to take desperate measures𑁋and that includes a fake-dating contract and the bane of your existence, han taesan.

　　　ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 13k ⠀ genre college au fluff angst if you squint one sided rivals to lovers academic weapon x campus crush ⠀ contains mentions of food vulgar words skinship pet names several ocs ⠀ note i’m sorry if this fic is.. all over the place a bit coz,, yea!! but this fic is highly.. self-indulgent.. heheh! and i originally wanted to make this more angsty but i’m already sad and single so, No! anyways, enjoy reading ^_^ ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

“ALRIGHT. Let’s do it.”

As you gaze into Taesan’s determined eyes, the entire series of events flashes through your mind. 

It was back in your first year of university—early winter, the day of the first snowfall. You were walking towards the three-floor library, the cold wind stinging your eyes. You rushed inside, grateful for the gush of artificial warm air that greeted you as soon as the doors closed behind you. The library was quite packed for some reason, and you could barely spot any empty seats.

You walked towards the edge of the library, a corner with the largest window of the level. There it was—one of the only empty seats in the entire library—but that seat was next to a boy, heavily occupied with his studies. Your pace slowed down as you hesitated. The boy had a focused blank look on his face, his headphones on, and several papers and notebooks were scattered on the table around him.

You felt like you wanted to just leave and go back to your room, but remembering how cold it was outside, you decided against it. 

After taking a deep breath, you approached him. With a shaky smile, you tapped the boy’s shoulder, muttering a silent prayer. 

“Excuse me,” you said as he lowered his headphones to his neck. “May I sit here? I-I mean, if it’s cool with you..”

He simply nodded. “Sure.”

You had sat down next to the mysterious boy for the entire day, not knowing that, in the present, he would be the bane of your existence. 

In this moment, you’re brought back to the present, startled at how you’re standing in front of him. The mysterious boy that you had sat next to turned out to be Han “Taesan” Dongmin—KOZ School of Law’s campus crush. There’s almost nothing “bad” that you’re heard of him, yet, when you find yourself walking towards him with a fiery determination in your eyes—you immediately know that you’re about to get hit with something you’d never expect. 

“A-are you sure?” you say, surprised to even find yourself stuttering. You’ve held yourself to such a high reputation—being your school’s academic weapon—you’ve worked hard to keep yourself true to that name. 

Well, to be fair, you didn’t expect Taesan to even say yes to your ridiculous plan—given that all that’s he’s ever done for you is say everything that will get on your nerves.

Taesan gives you a smirk. “Of course,” he says, clearing his throat. “Being the boyfriend of KOZ Academy’s academic weapon isn’t something you get to do everyday.”

The way he presses the emphasis on the word ‘boyfriend’ makes you flinch. It reminds you of your stupid plan; who in their right mind would offer Han Taesan—your rival—a fake dating deal just to make rumours about themselves go away?

“Right,” you roll your eyes. “Anyway, I think we need to enforce some guidelines and boundaries regarding this… set-up.”

Taesan shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight to let himself stand more comfortably. The smirk still on his face, he replies, “alright. Hit me with all of ‘em.”

You whip your phone out, quickly showing him a document that you spent an entire night typing out—complete with every single thing he needed to do for you. 

“Here,” you say, frustrated at how Taesan’s smug smirk just never falters. 

Taesan runs a hand through his hair before leaning down to read through the document displayed on your phone. He finishes reading it quickly, taking a step closer to you after. He doesn’t say anything for a while, only to startle you by abruptly saying, “I agree.”

“What–?” you blurt out, surprised once again. You thought that Taesan would be more picky than– 

“Your terms are easy for me to do. However,” you narrow your eyes at the boy who’s towering in front of you. Of course he’s picky—he’s Taesan. “I’d like you to agree to my conditions as well. If I have to do some things for you, you’d have to do some things for me too.”

You sigh before nodding. How hard could it be? Besides, this whole ‘relationship’ you’re having with Taesan is merely a fake dating set-up. 

“Okay.”

Taesan whips out a full-blown smug smirk, making you roll your eyes. He pushes his glasses up his nose bridge, holding out two fingers. 

“First, you have to also put in the effort to make things real. Like, wearing my jersey when I have basketball games, and wearing my initials ‘round your neck,” he pushes his middle finger down, the smug grin still plastered on his face, “and secondly, you’ll have to let me kiss you anytime.”

The moment the word ‘kiss’ escapes his mouth, you choke on thin air. 

Why is my plan backfiring on me? 

“What? No–”

Taesan shrugs. “Basically, physical contact is allowed to be done anytime.”

You feel your face flush, immediately recalling the third condition that you showed Taesan. No physical affection unless needed. 

“I’m afraid I can’t do that—it’s clashing with my third term.”

“But your first term: ‘the other party must always do his utmost best to make the relationship seem real’ exists, am I right?” Taesan objects relaxedly. “Then, my second term doesn’t clash with that. And I also do believe that that first term of yours comes before the rest. Am I right?”

You grit your teeth, sucking in a sharp breath. How could you forget? Taesan will always work to have the last word—be that in court or in conversations. 

Plus, he’s not entirely wrong. 

Though, you’ve never been someone who lets Taesan win willingly. 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes, your heart twisting in detest at the way Taesan’s face lights up with a smirk again. 

“Then, we have a deal?” Taesan asks. 

You stare into his dark brown eyes once again, registering what you’re about to commit yourself to. All just to get rid of your ex and the rumour he’s pulled you into. 

You hold out your hand, Taesan gladly reciprocating. 

“Deal.”

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IT didn’t hit you that you’re officially Han Taesan’s girlfriend that night. However, the next morning, right after the two of you signed the document at the coffee shop you always study at—it hit you like a million bricks from the sky. 

You’re in a “relationship” with the person you loathed the most for the past year. The exact same man who everyone adores, who’s called the it-boy, the campus crush—is now your most “beloved”. Freshman you would rather jump off a cliff than to offer her nemesis a fake-dating pact. 

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I guess. 

“Here,” Taesan hands you a velvet box—one that obviously contains jewellery of some sort. 

Of course. Han Taesan’s always prepared. 

You let out a deep sigh, knowing what’s inside. Despite that, you ask, “what’s this?”

Taesan gives you a grin, one that you always see him don during the countable times that he beats you in quizzes. “Open it—I’m sure you’ll like it.”

You run your fingers around the edges of the velvety box, sceptical at Taesan’s sudden soft tone. “Don’t talk to me like that,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. 

Taesan, instead of immediately throwing a scoff in your face, simply leans back into his seat with a chuckle. 

Not waiting for whatever reply he’s preparing to throw to you, you open the box. Your eyes lay upon a beautiful, dainty necklace with a “H.D” pendant, nested elegantly in the box. You bite back a gasp, though you’re unable to hide your surprise. The silver necklace is one of the most beautiful pieces of jewellery you’ve yet to lay your eyes upon—it’s dainty and simple, yet it screams elegance in the best way possible. 

You look up at Taesan, obviously bug-eyed. “What- I’m- thank you?”

Taesan throws his head back, laughing. He perches an eyebrow up, clearly amused. “What am I supposed to answer? ‘You’re welcome’?”

Oh. It’s part of his terms. 

You glare at him. 

Not missing a beat, Taesan says with a big grin on his face, “what is your lazy ass waiting for? Put it on—or do you need me to help with that?”

You massage your temples, tempted to stick your tongue out at him, hissing the obvious at him—that you do not want to wear his initials around your neck. 

“I don’t need your help,” you say between gritted teeth, harshly yanking the necklace from the box. You swiftly clasp the necklace around your neck, secretly surprised that you’re able to do so. 

Maintaining a glare, you retort, “I’m only wearing this stupid necklace because it’s part of your terms.”

You throw your gaze elsewhere, Taesan laughing his stomach out in the background. Why is he finding your irritated state so funny? 

The pendant feels cold against your skin, sending tingles. You gulp, feeling odd. You hadn’t announced your ‘relationship’ to your friends yet—but seeing you with Taesan’s initials could certainly start rumours. 

A part of you is jumping with triumph—your plan is starting to set its course, while another part of you is afraid of it all. What if you’re finally not good at something, no matter how much you try—pretending you’re in love with your rival, the bane of your existence?

“We’ll start slow,” you hear Taesan say, pulling you back into reality. You quickly morph into your stoic expression—one that you find yourself often putting up around people. “Like everyone else does. Soft launch.”

“Ah,” you manage, nodding. “Sounds good.”

“Even though that necklace certainly is a big jump for a soft launch,” Taesan voices, chuckling. His words cause you to narrow your eyes at him, hyper aware of the cold metal against your skin—a mark that Taesan managed to place on you. 

It’s all fake, you chant to yourself. Once Anton gets the message, it’ll all be over. 

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THE past few weeks had been a blur. Nothing was out of the ordinary—you attended classes, performed mootings and sent in assignments like usual. Though, only one thing that was out of the routine.

Taesan no longer felt like a thorn to your side. 

You still hate him—you despise the way he carries himself, so proud and confident. You wish you could punch his face for the way he’s so smooth with his words, the way that his charm works on everyone so well. You absolutely hate the way a handsome idiot like him had the potential to beat you in every single subject if you slacked for even a minute. 

Yet, to the public, he’s your boyfriend. 

A cliche: rivals to lovers, they say. 

Despite being the one proposing the whole fake dating plan, you had been the one following Taesan’s itinerary so far. The two of you had finally exchanged phone numbers, and at night, Taesan would always send a list of ideas on how to make the soft launch more obvious day by day. 

The first week, you found yourself wearing tops that highlighted the H.D pendant, styling your hair to make it more noticeable—you even went as far as attending Taesan’s birthday celebration to top the chances of people noticing the pendant. And Taesan didn’t inform you of this one, but you often found him telling his friends, yours, or random coursemates to pass you drinks and snacks. You had no idea how Taesan had gotten the list of all your favourite things to munch on, but you secretly did enjoy the free flow of snacks. Anton had passed you a snack from Taesan too—five packs of your favourite Choco Pie. You couldn’t forget the bewildered face Anton had as he passed them to you, eyes filled with question and a hint of jealousy.  

“What’s up with Han?” he asked.

You shoved the Choco Pies into your shoulder bag, biting back a smile. Who wouldn’t be jolly after getting five of their favourite tidbits? 

“How would I know?” you replied bitterly. You quickly turn away from Anton, the uncomfortable feeling of being around him overpowering the bubbly feeling you had from getting snacks. 

“Well, those Choco Pies are from him,” Anton repeated for the second time. “And I don’t recall him being anything but hostile to you.”

You suppress a scoff. “Maybe he’s had a change of heart? His brain is probably tired of coming up with things to try and outsmart me,” you muttered. As if. 

“Well, if anything—if that asshole tries to do anything to you, I’ll… be here for you, Y/N,” Anton said, taking a step closer. Your eyes widened and your jaw clenched. You quickly finished packing your bag up, swinging it over your shoulders. 

You said that last time, too. 

“Don’t talk to me, Anton,” you responded as monotony as possible before running out of the lecture hall, not giving Anton even a glance. 

The following weeks, Taesan was hanging out with you even more than the previous week. He wasn’t being too obvious, but to you, him walking slightly behind you and not throwing a loud sarcastic remark was already an apparent sign that would show everyone that your dynamics had changed. 

Anton had found yet another chance to corner you after a Public International Law lecture. You stayed back in the hall to reread your theoretical essay before sending it in. Behind you, Taesan was packing up his things, busy scrolling through something in his phone. 

“Hi, Y/N,” you froze when Anton’s voice reached your ear drums. 

You look up at him with a glare. “What do you want?”

Anton flashed his usual pitiful, soft smile. “Nothing. Just a meal with you—this week has been quite stressful for you, right? I heard that last Monday’s mooting was rough.”

“You’re not even a law student, Anton,” you seethed. The KOZ School of Business student ID card hanging on Anton’s neck looked extremely out of place amongst the ocean of law students. “Please kindly get lost, go back to the Business building.”

“My course mates are boring. Besides, you’re more fun to be around,” Anton replied. “I know we… haven’t been on good terms, but give me a chance to fix it all?”

You gritted your teeth, your hands beginning to shake. 

The audacity of this boy… where is my stupid fake boyfriend when I need him–?

“I think she clearly said for you to get lost, bud.”

You fought back a grin. Finally. 

“Han?” Anton tilted his head. “Wait– who are you to tell me that?”

Taesan stood next to you, his backpack dangling from one shoulder. His height towered significantly above you, making you standing right below his shoulders—enough to match Anton. “Who do you think I am?”

Anton’s eyes darted towards the pendant on your décolletage, his eyes bulging. “What the…” you heard him mutter under his breath. 

Taesan seemed to notice this too, and he swiftly pulled you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “So, get it now? Get lost, Lee, and give your ex some space. An ex is an ex for a reason.”

Anton then left with a fuming expression, leaving you in fits of relieved laughter after. You thanked Taesan, who simply responded with a polite smile. 

“By the end of this, don’t forget the wish, yeah?” he said, before walking out of the lecture hall. 

You stood there, blinking profusely. You had completely forgotten the last clause of your agreement with Taesan—once you were satisfied with his service, you had to grant him one wish. Anything that he wanted. 

You face palmed yourself. Why didn’t you think twice before typing that down? You mentally made a note to yourself to prepare your wallet for the outrageous request that the thorn in your side would make later on. 

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“ARE you and Taesan dating?” 

Sophia’s question makes you almost spit your lunch through your nose. 

“What?”

“Girl, don’t you dare pretend not,” Yunjin interrupts, pointing her spoon at you. “You literally have his initials as a necklace that you never take off! H.D., which means Han Dongmin, right? Isn’t that his real name?”

“It’s not like–”

“No, no. It’s so obvious! Taesan’s around you more now, and he even gave you a birthday present!”

Sophia smiles, “he looks at you so differently now!” 

Yunjin laughs, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, that too, I guess,” she then looks at you, directly in the eyes, “I guess Han Taesan and Y/N L/N have finally begun their lovers era, huh?”

You feel your cheeks warming up, and guilt fills your chest. You draw a sharp inhale before telling the girls the full story. And subconsciously, your fingers find the pendant, playing with it. 

“It’s fake,” you sigh, “I mean, not the necklace—he’s just pretending. I’m pretending, too. None of this is… real.”

Sophia gasps and Yunjin frowns. 

“Are you… sure? What for?” Sophia asks.

Yunjin nods in agreement. “I’ve always thought that dude had feelings for you, but I… I didn’t realise it’s actually wrong and my deductions were totally off.”

You scoff, though Yunjin’s words left you wondering. “Taesan doesn’t like me—have you girls seen how he treats me?”

“He treats you well,” Yunjin states plainly, shoving a spoonful of rice into her mouth. 

“No,” you immediately shake your head, “he hates seeing me happy! He always finds a way to stick his annoying nose into my life, mocking me. He’s like always, always there to only laugh at my face.” 

“Then why did he agree?” Sophia asks. 

“To what?”

“To fake date you,” she continues, taking a sip of her yakult. “Well, I’m sure you have a plan—a contract and all—don’t you?”

Your eyes widen. How do these two girls know you so well? 

“Yeah. I do. I’m doing all this because of Anton,” the look on your friends’ faces makes you feel a little relieved, “I need him to shut up about me.”

You recall the ridiculous rumour you’ve heard about you from Yunjin, that’s been going around like crazy—the rumour that you used to date Anton because he’s rich and that you used him as a bribe to get outstanding grades. Those close to you knew that is and would never become true—yet people are always jealous of others who have certain things better than them. 

It may seem like a small matter to some, but to you, it’s a matter of reputation. Your whole image and potentially, your graduation is at risk. What if the rumour reaches some professor and they report you? You couldn’t risk the huge amount of money and time you spent, only to be scrapped off the dean’s list due to some rumour. 

Yunjin herself had recorded proof of Anton trying to turn her against you, using that rumour. If she hadn’t shown you the recording, you wouldn’t have believed that sweet, kind Anton was the one who spread those malicious whispers about you.

Now, you’ve got to end it all. One way or another.

You continue finishing your lunch, Taesan somehow in mind. By the end of your lunch, you’re convinced that this is truly all an act—it’s nothing real, and in the end, you’re both just people who hate each other and use each other for selfish, personal reasons.

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“DO I really have to wear your ugly varsity jacket?” Dongmin hears you grunt through the call. He stifles a laugh, tossing a ball up and down. 

“Obviously, you dimwit,” he replies, “you’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?”

Dongmin lets himself smile. The word rolls off his tongue like a simple melody—it feels natural for him to say. He finds it odd, yet entertaining—your reaction is worth it all. Besides, it’s quite refreshing to take a break from hating you, sometimes. 

“Besides, your ex is going to be there,” Dongmin reminds, his voice more throaty than expected. “He’s on the team as well, remember?”

“Yeah,” he catches your quiet answer.  

“Anyway, how do you even have time for all this?” you question from the other end of the line. 

“Hmm,” Dongmin hums, “I do have time.” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” you hiss. “You’re in law school, Han Taesan.”

“What? Like it’s hard?”

Dongmin lets out a hearty laugh as he hears you gasp—one of the loudest and most genuine expressions he’s gotten out of you yet. 

“I’m so done with you,” you huff. Dongmin hears you shuffle through your closet, most likely finding something to wear. 

“You say that everytime,” Dongmin whispers to himself softly. 

“Anyway,” you announce loudly, “you better have some food for me once I arrive—I’m wearing your stupid varsity jacket.”

“Alright, sweetheart, anything for you,” Dongmin jests in a sing -song voice.

He hears you yelp in disgust, chuckling. “Yuck! Fuck off, Taesan!”

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IT’S a friendly match, nothing serious, Taesan had said; yet you’re here amongst other significant others, to watch him and his team play against another school’s team. 

At the bleachers, you feel called out, and insanely out of place. Everyone looks so in love—girlfriends wearing jerseys with their boyfriends’ numbers and names on the back, painted their faces accordingly, and even cheering for them with their hearts; mothers and siblings gathering together to support their sons and brothers.

Everyone looks so genuinely in love, and you’re the only one who’s there just because you have to. You arrived only two minutes before the match started, too, because you obviously don’t love Taesan enough to be rescheduling your work shift to see him play.

You fidget with the edges of the varsity jacket you’re wearing, oddly feeling how it’s perfectly oversized on you. 

Earlier, Taesan had spotted you sitting awkwardly on the bleachers. He ran over to you, quickly handing you a quesadilla and a cup of bubble tea, before jogging back to the basketball court to warm up. He didn’t say anything, nor did you—but the gesture made you feel weirdly fuzzy. 

Taesan did actually get you some food, even though you grumpily yelled at him to do so. You thought he wouldn’t, just so that he could get on your nerves, just like he always does. 

You watch him and the team warm up, pumping up positive energy with each other. You take a bite of your quesadilla, trying to ease your heart—yet you just can’t forget the real reason why you’re here. 

Jersey number 35.

The whistle blows, indicating the start of the game, and you catch Anton’s glance at you. He gives you a wide smile, winking twice—a sign that he made up, thanking you for coming, just like the old days. You grimace, turning away.

The mission is to make it seem like I’m in love with Taesan. 

You intently watch Taesan play in the arena, his moves sharp and powerful. He slips through the opposition’s defense flawlessly, scoring goals smoothly. Every time he throws the ball, it gets into the hoop—people erupt in cheers and he’s surrounded by his teammates. 

And every time, Taesan looks up at you, flashing his signature smirk. His grin sparkles, lighting up the room—it makes you feel like you’re the only one in the huge arena. 

It makes you feel odd. 

Like there’s so much more under that grin he flashes to you every time he scores. 

You touch the pendant on your décolletage, the cold metal stinging against your skin. Your fingers trace the letters—the initials of Taesan’s birth name—reminding you this is all a set-up. You’re supposed to pretend, and Taesan is pretending too. 

He must be.

Taking a deep breath, you tug the varsity jacket closer to your body, shoving your hands into its pockets. The weight of Taesan’s name and number lay heavy on your back, yet you don a bright smile—trying your best to show your support for him. 

Right now, you’re Han Taesan’s girlfriend. Player number 11’s girlfriend.

The match ends with Anton’s final goal, and KOZ Academy’s team wins 115-113. The entire gym erupts in waves of cheer and heartfelt hugs, every attending person feeling proud of their team, losing or not. You jog down the stairs, heading towards Taesan, whose height stands out in the crowd. 

When you reach the end of the stairs, you notice Anton’s gaze on you. You glance at him, the weight of past memories dragging you down. At the end of these exact same stairs, you used to run straight to Anton, engulfing him in a hug after a match. You used to kiss his cheek, congratulating him for a successful game. You used to feel like your entire world revolved around him, and that you would be happy with him. 

But that was in the past. Now, you can look at Anton with nothing in your heart. You feel nothing but plain resentment—damning him for the things he did to you. You had thought he was the love of your life, that you’d grow old with him—but Anton had other plans, and another girl that he prioritised more than you. 

You turn your head away, directing your gaze towards Taesan. He’s talking to his friends, his hair wet from the sweat. He’s grinning proudly, talking about something that’s interesting to boys. 

You sigh. Hopefully this whole set-up works—Anton leaves you alone, the rumours die down, and you can go back to bashing Taesan’s head. 

And hopefully, you can move on, too. Once and for all.

From the corner of your eyes, you see Anton take a step towards you. Though, what you don’t see is that Taesan is faster. He waves at you, calling your name with a big grin, before running to give you a hug. 

Your eyes widen upon the impact, and it’s like everything is in slow motion. 

Taesan pulls away, ruffling your hair. His eyes crinkle with his grin. “Are you proud of me, darling?”

Darling. 

You gulp. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

You give him a laugh, trying your best to not make it sound staged. Your nose crinkles at the smell of sweaty boys. Taesan notices, of course, and he chuckles. 

“Sorry, I must smell bad. I’ll be sure to spray on some more deodorant next time.”

You gaze into Taesan’s eyes, his arms still around your waist. There’s some kind of softness behind his teasing look—something that you’ve never seen before. 

A small smile forms on your lips, one that you’re unable to hold back. “Good job, Taesan.”

“Yeah?” Taesan laughs, his eyes forming crescent moons. “Thanks, Y/N.”

He then leans in to whisper, “that’s the first time I’ve heard that from you.”

You push him away, rolling your eyes. “Fuck off, Taesan. I’ll be waiting at the bus stop.”

Taesan laughs loudly as you stomp away. “By the way,” he yells, “you look good wearing my number, sweetheart!”

You lower your head, biting your lips to fight two things—the urge to flash the middle finger to the jolly Taesan behind you, and the weird fluttering feeling that erupts in your stomach every time he calls you ‘sweetheart’.

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“Y/N,” you turn around, finding a panting Anton in front of you. 

You’re standing in line outside one of the most famous pasta restaurants in the heart of the KOZ School of Medicine square, waiting to buy this one pasta dish you’ve been craving for the entire month. You didn’t tell anyone you’d be here—not even Taesan or the girls—so you’re weirded out by the fact that your ex found you here.

“...Anton,” you curtly acknowledge. 

“Is it true?” he asks. 

You force your eyes close for a second, wishing that it wasn’t wrong to beat someone up. “What?”

“That you’re dating Han Taesan. I saw him kissing your cheek last time.”

Your heart almost stops beating for a second. Almost two months have passed, and almost everyone in the entire campus of KOZ Academy knows that you and Taesan are finally getting tired of fighting each other—falling in love instead. 

Your plan has passed the soft launch phase, and now, you’re having your nemesis call you sweet, adoring nicknames out in public. 

“Yes,” you answer, managing a deadpan expression. “What about it?”

“Do you love him?” 

You narrow your eyes at Anton, feeling like if he keeps on shooting questions like this, he’d go home with a black eye. “Why does it matter if I love him or not?”

“Because,” Anton starts, his voice beginning to waver with every following word, “you used to love me.”

His words hang in the air, thick with a known, cursed history. You could hear your heart stutter for a split second, but you shake your head, quickly suppressing the feeling. You take in a sharp breath, feeling the heat of old anger rise in your chest. You force yourself to look at Anton, eyes hardening.

“That was two years ago, Anton,” you say, your voice detached. “And you made sure to end it, remember?”

Anton’s face flickers with something—guilt, regret, maybe even a hint of fear—but you’re not interested in seeing it. You’re sick of it—too familiar with the way he can spin his words to make himself seem like the victim.

“You don’t get to do this,” you continued, lips tightening into a thin line. “You don’t get to just show up and act like we can pick up where we left off, after what you did with Mina."

Anton’s face darkens the moment your old best friend’s name leaves your mouth, but you hold his gaze without flinching. Anton opens his mouth, probably to throw another lame and poorly explained excuse that you’ve heard before, but you’re faster than he is. 

“Save it,” you snap. “You don’t have any right to ask me if I love Taesan after what you did. You lost that right the moment you lied to me and slept with her.”

Anton looks taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected you to bring that up, but obviously, you don’t care. You’ve held your feelings in for so long—leaving them behind quietly to try and move on without a commotion. You’ve spent enough time letting him walk all over you in the past—you’re not about to let him do it again.

For a moment, Anton looks like he’s about to say something more, but you don’t give him a chance. You turn away, taking a small step back as you glance briefly at the line in front of you. “I’m done with this conversation, Anton. You should be, too.”

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THE next morning, after your first class of the day, you sigh as you find yourself waiting outside of a rather packed coffee shop—allegedly Taesan’s favourite one—bundled up in Taesan’s scarf. Autumn is starting to give way to winter, and as it’s doing so, the winds and temperatures are getting crazier. You bury your face further into the softness of Taesan’s scarf, letting the mixture of champagne orange, passion fruit, and sugar vanilla attack your senses. It’s disturbing, once the fact that the scarf that’s warming you up belongs to Taesan registers in your head; however, you had no choice. Freezing your nose off was the only other option. 

“Hey,” you hear Taesan’s voice, turning instantly towards him. 

“Apple pie latte?” he says, handing you a warm cup of said coffee. Grabbing it from him, you perk your eyebrows up. 

“How did you know?” you say, pushing the scarf down. Taesan shrugs, sipping his own drink. You glance at the sticker on his cup: cinnamon maple latte.

“Instincts.”

You snicker at his reply, rolling your eyes. “Cut me some slack.”

The two of you then walk back towards the law school complex, where both of your classes will be held next. The winds begin to blow, and you find yourself hiding half your face behind Taesan’s scarf. You squint your eyes, blinking harshly as the stray strands of hair sting them. 

“I love autumn, but not this kind,” you mumble. 

Taesan glances at you, and in one swift motion, he grabs your free hand and shoves it into the pocket of his coat. He interlaces his hand with yours, letting his body warmth transfer to you. 

Your eyes widen, your brain slow at processing the situation. You whip your head towards the tall man walking with you, his expression relaxed as ever. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull away. 

Taesan gives you a look that yells ‘really, Y/N?’. “Keeping you warm?”

“I don’t need your help,” you retort, yanking your hand away. 

Taesan grabs it back, shoving it into his pocket. This time, his grip on your hand is firmer than before. “I don’t need my girlfriend to freeze to death—it’s going to ruin my reputation.”

Realisation hits you, again, like a ton of bricks right at the face. 

Oh. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, letting him do his thing. You look away, deciding to admire the surrounding golden trees. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself of how this whole ‘thing’ with Taesan is temporary—and having a personal heat packet isn’t too bad. 

Once the two of you reach the lecture hall together, people begin to clearly spectate. You pull your hand away from him, rushing to your usual seat. Taesan, his expression calm as he always is, walks over to his usual seat as well—directly behind you. 

Then, two minutes before the lecture starts, the person you truly hated comes into view, and decides to sit at the empty seat next to you. 

“Hi, Y/N,” your ex, Anton, greets you with the biggest smile on his face. You mentally sob—already dreading the three hours to come.

You turn away, scooting as far as you could. The memories rush like a flood you can’t stop—reminding you of the heart-tearing pain the boy sitting next to you caused. 

“Y/N? You alright? You look pale,” Anton says, probing further.

“It’s the weather,” you reply dully, your lips downturned. You unravel Taesan’s scarf from your neck, placing it on your lap. Your eyes fixed onto the lecture, you ignore Anton’s attempts to get you conversing with him. 

“Y/N, are you free after class?” Anton whispers, twenty minutes into the lecture. 

“No.” You give him a side glance.

“And you don’t even take IT,” you fake a smile, “so I don’t think you should even be here. With due respect, get lost, yeah?”

“I’m honoured,” Anton whispers back. The soft smile on his face makes you gag. “You still remember things about me.”

“Oh, please,” you grimace, anger beginning to bubble up inside of you. “I’d rather make out with Taesan than remember even the tiniest bit of–”

You suck in your breath sharply, your cheeks flushing at an alarming rate. You had blurted your words out too fast to even register the fact that you’re actually wearing the said person’s initials in a necklace ‘round your neck. 

“You’d rather what now, sweetheart?” 

Hearing Taesan’s voice, you can almost see his smug smirk decorating that annoyingly attractive face of his. 

Your eyes widen. 

I did not just admit that.

You turn to Taesan for a moment, flashing him a sheepish smile. You quickly spin back to face the lecture, forcing yourself to focus. 

After the lecture concluded, you find yourself stuck in a sticky situation—Anton just can’t let you go out. 

“Do you want to go and grab lunch together? It’s pretty late for lunch, and I know your stomach gets upset easily if you don’t eat,” you wince upon hearing his soft tone. 

You frown, hating the fact that Anton knows almost a lot of things about you. “No, Anton, I’m sure I said–”

“She said no, Lee, I’m sure even a stupid motherfucker can understand.”

Seeing Anton’s eyes almost pop out at the sight of Taesan next to you, you’re sure that you look the same. You turn sharply towards Taesan, who has his hand perfectly placed on your back. The look on his face is fierce and scary, like he’s about to completely destroy Anton exactly where he’s standing.  

“Han,” Anton addresses him curtly. “I didn’t know that you’re on… good terms with Y/N.”

You fidget with the charm on your décolletage, collecting every bit of energy you have to maintain a stoic expression. 

Taesan flashes a sly smirk, pride radiating from his eyes as the corners of Anton’s lips twitch. “Why? Is it important to you who I’m close to?”

“No, but given your history with Y/N—I don’t want her to get hurt,” Anton blathers, “so I’m gladly asking you to–”

“What? Fuck off?” Taesan scoffs. Your eyes bulge, somehow not expecting Taesan’s choice of words to be so vulgar. “I think that’s what you’re supposed to do, Lee.”

“Y/N,” Anton says, desperation vivid in his voice. He grabs your wrist, and you instinctively step back. “C’mon, let’s go. I know you don’t like this stupid asshole here–”

Before you could even act, Taesan steps in front of you, shoving Anton to the floor. The students who are still lingering around stop to look. You couldn’t hold in your gasp—Taesan looks extremely angry, you swear you could see fire in his eyes. 

A thought clicks into your head. 

Taesan is the it-boy, of course he’s good at acting.

You take a step back, weirded by the heavy feeling of disappointment that begins to cloud your heart as soon as you remember the arrangement. 

It’s just acting, Y/N. Get it together. 

“Don’t touch her, bastard,” you hear Taesan hiss before he turns to you. Anger still lingering around, you watch with silence as Taesan relaxes the tension in his jaw. In a mirroring silence, he gestures for you to follow him out. You nod.

As you turn on your heel, Anton calls out, visibly irritated. 

“Y/N,” he says, “what’s going on?”

You give him a mocking smile. You swing Taesan’s scarf around your neck. “I don’t think I owe you an explanation, Anton.”

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AS you and Taesan walk out of the lecture hall, you can’t ignore the heavy weight settling in your chest. It keeps replaying in your mind: the way Taesan stepped in, fiercely protective—it’s all an act, right? You sneak a glance at Taesan, but his face is unreadable, his jaw still slightly clenched from the encounter.

“Taesan… you didn’t have to do that,” you mumble, playing with the hem of his scarf.

Taesan exhales through his nose, his shoulders rising slightly. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he then adds under his breath, “fucking bastard.”

You blink, unintentionally slowing your steps. That’s… different from what you expected.

“Taesan,” you try again, but he shoves his hands into his pockets, picking up the pace.

You know you should just let it go, but the air between the two of you feels heavier than it was before. Was it just an act? Maybe it was—and that Taesan’s acting skills are as good as the rom-com actors—but something about the way he had looked at Anton; like he was seconds away from doing more than just shoving him to the ground. 

It feels too… real.

A sudden gust of wind cuts through your coat, making you shiver. Instantly, Taesan grabs your wrist and pulls you into a nearby convenience store.

“Sit,” he orders, disappearing for a moment. You watch him move through the aisles, confusion twisting in your chest. You take a seat exactly where he ordered you to, your head fuzzy from the mixture of confusing, unnamed emotions.

When he returns, he kneels slightly, pressing a warm drink and a heat pack into your hands, his fingers lingering just a second too long.

“You’re hopeless,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “First my scarf, now this.”

You gasp dramatically, rolling your eyes as your lips twitch, your heart knocking against your ribs. “You’re the one who keeps giving me things.”

Taesan just hums in response, his gaze locking onto yours. His usual unreadable expression softens, something almost unreadable flickering in his eyes.

Your grip tightens on the cup, trying to shake off the way your body reacts to his warmth. This whole thing with Taesan was supposed to be temporary. So why did it feel like something had changed?

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DONGMIN takes several deep breaths, his eyes shut. The jazz music plays in the background, and the buzz of the cafe calms him down. 

No wonder Y/N likes this place. 

Dongmin opens his eyes, finding himself staring at you ordering drinks and some food for the two of you. You had dragged him here as soon as you finished your drink at the convenience store, repeating that you needed to treat him to some food. Your voice rings in his head, telling him that he needed to follow you to the coffee shop, to cool off his steam. 

“Do you like apple pie?” you ask, setting a plate of two slices of said dessert, accompanied by two scoops of vanilla ice cream.

“Why do you even ask if you’ve already gotten it? Seems like my preference doesn’t matter,” Dongmin replies, putting on the usual smirk. 

Your eyes widen and he chuckles. 

“Well,” you huff, “I like apple pie—and it’s impossible to find someone who doesn’t.”

“Alright,” Dongmin laughs, and it hits. His laughter dies down as the realisation sinks in—watching you devour your slice of apple pie like it’s the only food you’ll eat until the end of time. 

Dongmin, as he puts a bite of his food into his mouth, realises how messed up he is. He realises how often a hearty laugh escapes him when he’s with you—how a flustered, frustrated mess you make him. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” Dongmin asks. He pokes his fork absentmindedly into the crust of the apple pie, second guessing his question the moment it leaves him. 

You and he had always, always been rivals—a pair that’s never meant to get along. He’d always find you muttering curses and throwing glares in his direction; and he’d always find himself trying his best to reciprocate your disdain for him. 

Dongmin does hate you, too. 

He hates how you’re so confident, so diligent, so talented. He despises how hard you work, how determined you are, how you seem to always effortlessly bring him down and defeat him in academics. He feels the most intense dislike for you—whenever you walk in the room, he feels like the world is about to explode, along with his sanity. 

Dongmin hates, with a burning passion, how he can’t stop himself from falling in love with you. He absolutely loathes the way you smile, the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh, and the way you look at him—with such fiery determination that’s enough to knock him off his feet. He completely hates the way that he has to keep his tongue sharp, and his attitude insufferable, for you to give him a sliver of your attention. He perfectly hates the way it’s impossible for him to let you know that he doesn’t hate you, at all. 

Dongmin watches you open your mouth to reply, yet you don’t for a few moments. You return his gaze, uncertainty playing around in her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your head in confusion. “We’re just eating apple pie, Taesan,” you laugh sheepishly. 

For the first time, Dongmin doesn’t have an immediate answer. He swallows the bite of apple pie in his mouth, unsure of what he should say next. His smirk fades and hesitation engulfs him.

You notice this, of course, and your frown deepens. Though, before you could do anything, Jaehyun—Dongmin’s friend, suddenly appears.

He greets Dongmin, patting his shoulder. “Yo, Taesan, long time no see! Wait–” he pauses, laying his eyes on you. “Wait, am I dreaming? You two? Sitting together? Laughing? Are pigs flying now?”

You immediately shake your head, laughing along with Jaehyun. Dongmin, on the other hand, is dazed. He stays silent, still unsure of what to say. He’s finding everything peculiar—the way he’s unable to say anything, the way that his heart is thumping loudly against his chest at the mention of you as his girlfriend. 

He watches you politely say goodbye to Jaehyun, gaining certainty with every beat of his heart. 

His little crush on you is resurfacing, after two years of pushing it down with faked hatred. 

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AFTER Jaehyun leaves, you let yourself sneak a glance at Taesan, who’s absentmindedly poking holes in his already destroyed pie crust, avoiding your gaze. You notice his oddly quiet state—the Taesan you know would never miss the chance to throw in a witty remark. 

You throw him a glare, slightly hoping it’d make him knock out of his trance. You set your fork down with an audible clink. “You’re being weird. I mean, you always are insufferably weird, but this is even weirder.”

Taesan scoffs, lifting his drink to his lips. “And you’re being annoying. Paranoid.”

You cross your arms, an annoyed grimace forming on your face. “Am I?”

Taesan holds your gaze for a moment too long, something flickering in his eyes before he looks away. “Maybe not.”

Oh.

You lean back, sighing dramatically. “Fine. I don’t get what you being weird has with me being paranoid, but yeah, I’m totally being paranoid. Definitely imagining things,” you scoff sarcastically.

Taesan hums in agreement. “You do that a lot.”

You choke on air. Glaring at Taesan, you retort, “you’re infuriating.”

“And yet, here you are, sharing dessert with me,” Taesan smirks, tilting his head. 

You pause, blinking profusely.

That… is a valid point. How did you even get here? You and Taesan are supposed to be rivals. Aren’t you supposed to hate each other?

Your stomach twists, and suddenly, you find it difficult to swallow your final bites of apple pie.

After moments of deafening silence, you say, your voice slightly wavering, “you’re unbelievably good at dodging questions, Taesan.”

You bring your drink to your lips, hoping that you sounded casual. 

Taesan looks up from his finished plate of apple pie, smirking as he leans back. “Oh, yeah? Have you ever considered that you’re too good at asking too many questions, and it’s insufferable?”

Your eyes widen slightly, flickering to the way that his eyes glare vaguely at you. “Maybe I am,” you admit quietly, “but you’re dodging the real ones.”

Taesan’s smirk falters a little bit, just for a second, and there’s something unrecognisable in his eyes. Something you can’t put a name on. 

Maybe a shift in the air. Maybe it’s just your imagination. Or maybe it’s because your heart is racing just a little too fast.

You’re so focused on trying to read Taesan’s expressions that you don’t notice the way your voice softens. “So… if this whole thing is an act, why do I keep feeling like you actually care?”

You mentally hit yourself. That isn’t what you meant to say—and it’s certainly not what you would say in front of Taesan.

Though, it’s out before you can stop yourself. The words hang in the air, heavy and uncertain.

Taesan freezes, his eyes widening with a vulnerability for a fraction of a second. Then, just as quickly as it came, his guard comes back up. “Like we’ve discussed before, it’s an act. Nothing more.”

His voice is stern and plain, and his expression is stoic, but you catch the tremble in his hand as he’s fiddling with his fork. 

That, somehow, doesn’t sit right with you. 

You learn forward, the pendant swinging against your décolletage, your expression more serious now. “Then why do you care so much?”

You watch him closely, catching the tightening in his jaw and the way his hand proceeds to rest on the table, fingers anxiously tapping against the wood. Taesan doesn’t answer immediately, and instead, he looks away to drift his gaze to the window.

Your chest suddenly tightens. He’s acting like this is nothing, but you certainly feel it—the crack in the walls you’ve both constructed carefully against each other. It’s a tug at the back of your mind, a repeating whisper you’ve been trying so hard to push away.

And yet, the silence between you feels louder than ever.

Minutes pass by and the silence gets louder and louder. You’re lost in your own thoughts—realising just how much you’re affected by Taesan; just how much more you’re feeling than you want to admit. In the silence, you’re wondering, are you just imagining all this? Maybe it’s just you, maybe it’s the fact that you’re finding something more from this fake relationship you have with Taesan, your nemesis. 

Though, there’s something that you can’t deny: the fact that your chest tightens with fluttering butterflies every time he gets too close, every time his words shift to something softer than usual, it’s something that makes your heart trip in your chest.

“Y/N,” Taesan calls, his voice softer than anticipated, and you’re pulled out of your train of thought. You look at him slowly, uncertain and afraid of what’s to come. He pauses, as if he’s unsure of what to say next. “What if… I told you I’m not sure if I can pretend much longer?” 

His gaze finally meets yours, and for a moment, there’s no mask—just the raw sincerity in his eyes.

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart skipping a beat. You open your mouth, trying to say something—but nothing comes out. The evident truth in his words hits you like an ocean wave on a sunny day, and you can’t help but feel something is shifting between you both.

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THE next few weeks pass by like a ridiculously large time-skip in a movie. You’re doing things like you usually do—attend classes, do mootings, send in assignments, study for exams. Though, there’s one big thing in your life that you can’t ignore—Taesan, your fake-dating arrangement, and the lingering, unspoken tension between the two of you. The first week after the coffee shop episode, you couldn’t sleep even a wink—your mind kept on replaying the scenes over and over again, the way you caught Taesan’s guard almost falling down. You’re sure you felt it too, the cracks in the walls you’ve built against him—even for a short moment. 

At school, you’re hyper aware and extra distracted by Taesan. He’s doing his part of the agreement well, acting like he agreed he would. Every glance from him feels like a load of unspoken words, and the air between you two feels heavy. Every day you ponder, unsure of what to do with the new, fragile tension that’s settled between you and Taesan.

Today is the same—everything passes in a blur of lectures, assignments, and studying. You drag your heavy footsteps out of the room, your head spinning at the thought of the many assignments waiting for you. You look up, and the moment you step into the hallway, you see Taesan leaning against the wall, phone in hand, looking as calm as ever. 

You walk near him, and your eyes meet—you see a flicker of something there—a tension, a question neither of you have the answer to. 

“Y/N,” Taesan greets you with a casual, unreadable smile. You pause in your steps, turning to face him.

“Hi,” you reply quite timidly. You’re trying to sound casual, but you can hear the slight hitch in your voice. There’s no pretending this isn’t different now. There’s no pretending you didn’t almost cross a line last time. 

Taesan takes a final glance at his phone before shoving it into his pocket. “Still pretending this is just an act?” he asks, his voice surprisingly soft but laced with something familiar, almost teasing.

You pause, your breath stuck in your throat. Your heart, yet again, skips a beat, and you try to brush it off by laughing nervously. “Me? Pretending? I’m not pretending,” you say, and it’s directed more towards yourself than to him.

You’re not sure who’s trying to convince who anymore.

Taesan looks taken aback. He blinks profusely before putting his usual, calm expression back on. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding, “I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You watch him walk away, heart twisting in the weirdest way. 

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DONGMIN hates the way everything is now. Why can’t he just tell you everything? Why can’t he just tell you that he isn’t pretending, that he actually cares?

He wants to stop everything–going back to shoving insults at your face might be the safest option of them all. Yet, Dongmin finds himself caring for you in the little ways—wrapping his scarf around your neck, adjusting the placement of your bangs with a simple ruffle, placing a tin of coffee and bread in front of you whenever you seem exhausted with studying, sliding post-its to you with his handwriting reminding you to take breaks when needed. He still finds his heart racing upon seeing you; the way your lips pout when you’re deep in thought, the way you smile and laugh so adorably upon hearing a funny joke from your friends, the way you’re still so cute even when frustrated. 

As he walks away, Dongmin fights with his own heart. Why was he acting like this? It’s so clear that you’re expecting something more, but why is he pushing you away? 

Dongmin takes a deep breath. Yeah, he’s scared. He’s afraid that maybe it’s all in his head, maybe you’re the one acting so well and it’s just gotten to him. 

Dongmin swears to get himself together, but it looks like he’s going to need more than just mental affirmations. 

The next day, he misses his alarm, for the first time in forever, and is running late to his 9 AM lecture. He’s speed walking through students, dodging them with a bag hanging on one shoulder and his hair still partially wet. Just as he’s about to near the entrance of the Law building, he hears raised voices nearby. He puts his hood up, his first instinct is to ignore it all—he’s got no time to eavesdrop on people’s business. However, he recognises one of the two quarrelling voices—yours. 

Dongmin’s steps come to a halt, and he turns to face you. His eyes slightly widen and his shoulders begin to tense as he sees you and Anton standing a few feet away, locked in an argument. He’s a bit too far away to hear the full conversation, yet he catches some bits of it.

You’re standing at your full height, stiffly in front of Anton, arms crossed and eyes blazing with fury. Anton, on the opposite side of you, no longer has that sickening, innocent smile—instead, he’s flashing you a mocking smirk. 

The argument is already reaching its peak, yet Dongmin is quick to analyse the situation just by picking up a few bits. 

“You think you’re really something, don’t you?” Anton taunts.

You scoff. Dongmin could tell you’re offended, yet the mask you put on really makes a difference. “At least I don’t have to put other people down to feel important.”

Anton scoffs back, “please. You act like you’re above all this, but you’re just as desperate for attention as everyone else.”

Dongmin clenches his jaw, watching the argument unfold as his fingers begin to twitch. 

You give Anton a mocking laugh, stepping forward. “I don’t care what you think, Anton Lee. I don’t care if you think I don’t love Taesan, because what matters is my own feelings, not yours. And I’m done wasting my time on you.”

Before you could turn away and enter the building, Anton grabs your wrist. 

It’s not aggressive, but it’s enough. Enough to make Dongmin see red.

Everything’s a blur—one second later, he’s towering in front of Anton, his eyes glaring daggers. 

“Let her go,” his voice is low and threatening, as sharp as a blade. 

Anton looks up, initially startled, but as soon as he sees Dongmin, he rolls his eyes. His hand still around your wrist, he says with a sneer, “look who’s here, Y/N’s knight in shining armour! Oh, so great, always the hero.”

Dongmin is too busy counting down the ways he could destroy Anton’s life to be noticing how immediate the warmth creeps up your cheeks. Dongmin, in one fluid motion, steps closer, standing between you and Anton. 

“Did you hear me?” his voice drops deadly lower than before, his posture relaxed yet his eyes are dangerous. “Let. Go.”

Anton huffs, roughly letting go of your hand. He shakes his head. “You two are seriously something else,” he mutters before storming away. 

You and Dongmin stand next to each other, cautiously eyeing Anton until he disappears from sight. For that moment, none of you say anything.

“What was that for?” you say suddenly, crossing your arms. “I didn’t need you to step in.”

Dongmin shoves his hood down to his neck, raising his eyebrow. Feeling slightly irritated, he scorns. “Yeah? Looked like you were having a great time.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, but something pinches Dongmin’s heart as he notices there’s no real bite behind it. “I’m fine—I had it all handled.”

Silence. 

Dongmin exhales sharply, words shooting out of his mouth without second thought. “I know. It’s just–” 

He stops, his eyes landing on your wrist. Closes his mouth. 

You wait for a few moments, before warily asking. “What? Just what?”

Dongmin hesitates. Suddenly, it’s all he can push out of his throat. He’s already there, halfway crossing the line he’s put between you and him for the past two years. 

And then, it just… slips out. 

“I just can’t stand it, okay?”

Your frown deepens, confused. “Stand… what?”

Dongmin lets out a frustrated breath, turning sharply to completely face you. “I can’t stand seeing you with people like that fucking bastard. I can’t stand watching you get into these stupid situations. And I really, really can’t stand how much I—”

His eyes widen, and his words stumble upon a stop. Dongmin stammers, realising what he was just about to say. 

“Taesan,” you call, gently, hope suddenly shimmering in your eyes. “How much you what?”

Dongmin freezes. He’s silent, tongue frozen, unable to utter another word.

He can’t say it. 

Instead, he runs a hand through his hair, muttering curses under his breath. 

“You know what?” 

“Taesan–”

“Next time,” he says quickly, in a softer voice, “don’t… waste your time on a guy like him.”

Your eye contact is still intact, you open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Your eyes widen for a split second—as if you’re catching on to the feelings displayed, unknowingly, on Dongmin’s face. 

His concern is real.

“W-we should go,” you stammer instead, gesturing to the Law building. 

Dongmin nods. He grabs your backpack from you, signalling for you to walk in first. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

You force yourself to walk as swiftly as possible to the lecture hall, heart pounding, mind racing. Behind you, Dongmin’s entire body is tense. He’s finally realising he can’t keep his feelings for you hidden forever.

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THE next day, you can’t stop thinking about Taesan—and whatever he was about to say to you. Your mind races with a million different thoughts throughout the day. What if he actually feels the same? What if you’re not the only one looking for something more in this fake arrangement?

However, given that exams are looming closer, you’re only given a short amount of time to dwell on your thoughts. After your last class of the day, you find yourself cooped up in the library, studying the rest of the day away. Several of your friends join you, too. 

The study group grows, joined by both your friends and Taesan’s—though, you didn’t even realise that Taesan is sitting across you the entire day, until everyone starts leaving one by one. 

By midnight, it’s only you and him. You don’t look up, but you can feel your heart thumping faster than usual. You’re hyper aware of your surroundings—how close he is, how his scent feels comforting yet intimidating, and how his presence is reminding you of something that you’re too afraid to admit. 

“Y/N,” you open your eyes to someone gently shaking your shoulder, the reality of things crashing onto you all at once. You lift your head up, realising that you fell asleep in the middle of reviewing a past paper. Your eyes meet with Taesan’s concerned gaze. 

His voice is low and soft, as if it’s only for you. “Let’s take a break. You’ve been snoozing off way too many times.”

Your heart is beating a little faster than usual, but you agree. Taesan’s request seems too casual, and he looks like he needs a break too. 

You follow his lead, walking a little bit behind him to the convenience store that’s still open in campus grounds. He’s silent, observing you and letting you pick anything you want before paying for both your things and his. 

“Go sit,” he says, holding your instant tteokbokki package in hand, along with his instant noodles. “I’ll heat these up.”

Taesan quickly moves to the microwave before you can say anything in retaliation, a sign that you take seriously. He’s not in the mood for any fights. 

You take a seat, and soon after, Taesan joins you. He puts your instant meal in front of you, breaking your chopsticks for you. 

“Here,” he says, his voice quiet. “Careful, the tteok is still hot.”

He then slips his coat around you before turning back to his own beverages. 

You find yourself staring at him, long after he’s handed you your things. You watch him, peacefully releasing his tension—running a hand through his hair, chugging down a cup of coffee. 

Everything around you looks like it has a blurred filter on, yet one thing is crystal clear: Taesan, and his evident care for you. The longer you stare at him, the more you realise.

He’s always been the one. He’s always been there. 

It hits you harder than any bad grade has ever done. 

Taesan has always been like this—quietly looking out for you, quietly caring for you. 

All this while, all the banter, the little arguments, moments, and glances—it’s not just rivalry. It’s not just the fact that he always finds a way to make you all grumbly and irritated. It’s not just the fact that, even back when you were with Anton, he’d always find a way to show his care for you. 

It’s not just the fact that you enjoy his company, even if he makes you feel like you want to bang your head against the wall. 

You like him. 

You like Han Taesan. 

You quickly turn your head away, blood rushing to your head as soon as the realisation hits you. You stuff a few bites of instant tteokbokki into your mouth, wanting to quickly get rid of whatever this warm, refreshing feeling is. 

“Can you stop looking at me like that, L/N?” 

You cough, shocked at how his sudden comment breaks through the almost comforting silence. All the past moments you’ve had with him—the banter, the insults, the arguments—run through your head as soon as your last name, what Taesan had always called you, reaches your ears.

“Like what?” emboldened by the awakening of your feelings, you retort, your tone more challenging than you intended. 

Taesan snaps, pushing his chair back, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“Like I’m your fucking boyfriend.”

“What?” you’re confused, not expecting that out of his mouth. “What are you–”

“Like you’re waiting for me to say something that I know I can’t take back.”

“Say it, then.”

You say, challenging him. It feels sentimental—like the old days, where all you did when you met Taesan was throw taunting words at him. But at the same time, the words come out of your mouth without realising—daring the two of you to finally cross the line. 

“I like you, okay? I probably love you at this point, I don’t know. I don’t know when it started, but I do. And I—” He exhales sharply, his voice softer. “I don’t want to keep pretending I don’t.”

The world stops spinning and you stare at him, blank. 

Your tongue feels numb, your heart racing at a million miles per hour. 

You feel the same, you’re sure, but you don’t know how to respond. Do you smile and say it back? Do you tease him, calling him an idiot like you always do? 

“I didn’t mean to fall for you,” you catch Taesan muttering. 

You smile. “Me too,” you say softly. 

Taesan lifts his head immediately, sharply turning to you with widened eyes. “... pardon?”

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THE next few days feel like a refreshing spring breeze in the peak of winter, yet the air is filled with a cute awkwardness. After the confession, neither of you explicitly announce to one another that the two of you are a real couple now—yet your interactions feel new and unscripted, but no one exactly is making the first move. 

Of course, your friends notice before the two of you do. 

You’re sitting at the food hall together with Yunjin and Sophia, eating breakfast. You’re halfway through your pancakes, and Taesan—or Dongmin, as you call him now—suddenly takes a seat next to you. 

“Mind if I join, girls?” he asks, a charming grin on his face. He’s asking the table, yet his gaze is directed to you. You bite your lip shyly, nodding.  

“Sure, make yourself at home,” Yunjin says, her words laced with teasing. She watches with eagle eyes as Dongmin puts all of the sliced bananas from his serving of pancakes onto yours, knowing that you especially enjoy them with your breakfast pancakes. She snorts at the obvious look of love in Dongmin’s eyes, more evident now that he isn’t shoving insults at your face. “So, you two are really dating now?”

You choke on your bite of pancake, immediately blurting out,

“No!”

“Yes.”

You sharply turn to Dongmin, who has a smug look on his face. It’s the one look on his face that you’re used to, yet there’s a tint of pink on his cheeks. The edge of his smirk twitches, threatening to form into a cute, lovesick smile. 

“...I see,” Sophia interrupts your awkward eye contact, sighing dramatically. 

“We’re dating?” you ask Dongmin acutely, your brows connecting in an embarrassed frown. 

“I don’t know,” Dongmin shrugs casually, the look in his eyes teasing. “Are we?”

The blush that instantly creeps up your cheeks tells you the answer. You look away, suddenly focused on the way you’re cutting your pancakes. Dongmin’s laugh echoes to your left, and your friends’ send you teasing looks. 

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A few months later, on the first week back after winter break, you go on a walk around campus with your boyfriend, Han Dongmin. It feels weird, calling him yours now. Just almost half a year ago, you were fighting your ego to have your nemesis fake-date you in order to intimidate your ex into leaving you and your life alone. Now, that same thorn in your side has become the light of your life, the apple of your eye. Now, the two of you are in something that’s not written on a flimsy contract.

Dongmin had also helped clear out the rumours surrounding you—in the most annoying, Han Taesan way—announcing the truth about Anton by spreading it like a rumour to everyone. You still get second-hand embarrassment remembering that day, bombarded by questions and apologies from acquaintances and people you’ve only seen around. 

“You know,” you say dreamily, distracted by your train of thought, “you’re so annoying—but I love you.”

Dongmin freezes, his steps coming to an immediate halt. You, too, freeze in your steps as you realise you’re a few steps ahead of him now. You turn around, eyebrows perked up. “What’s wrong, Dongmin?”

Dongmin. 

The sound of your voice calling his birth name repeats in his mind, like a favourite song on loop. He stares, unable to say anything. His eyes fall on the pendant dangling from your neck, one that you started wearing due to the fake-dating arrangement. He remembered insisting that you take it off, so that he can buy you a new one later, but you said that it’s special so you won’t take it off. 

I love you. 

Dongmin feels a smile slowly bloom on his face. 

She said it. She didn’t even hesitate. It’s like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

His face softens, jogging up to you. He gives you a cheeky smile. 

“Say that again.”

You frown. “What again?”

“The first part.”

“What–” you pause, eyes widening as you get what he’s talking about. Heat rushes up your cheeks, warming your face despite Dongmin’s scarf wrapped around it. “I–”

“Yeah,” Dongmin says, smirking as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Me too.”

You bury yourself into the familiar scent of Dongmin’s scarf as he kisses your cheek. 

“Fuck you, Han Dongmin,” you grumble, ignoring the obvious butterflies in your stomach. 

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THAT weekend, you and Dongmin are eating lunch together at your favourite coffee shop. Dongmin had said that the vibes there makes him sleepy, and tried to bring you to eat at one of the more famous restaurants near the KOZ School of Engineering, yet the plan backfires on him when the line is certainly too long. 

Now, the two of you are back at your favourite coffee shop, sipping warm cinnamon lattes. 

“See?” you tease, smiling cheekily. “I told you this place is the best.”

Dongmin rolls his eyes, taking a big spoonful of the chocolate cinnamon roll on your plate. “I want to eat some real food, like kimchi jjigae, not these sweet chocolate desserts,” he complains, though he can’t hide the fact that he secretly loves it. 

“Yet you’re the one finishing my cinnamon roll,” you retort, letting him subconsciously finish your dessert. You’re familiar with his love for chocolate.

Dongmin flashes you an innocent smile, shrugging. “Not my fault.”

Comfortable silence engulfs the two of you, letting you bask in each other’s presence. Suddenly, Dongmin leans closer, adjusting the place of the H.D pendant on your décolletage. Frozen, you watch him lean back into his seat, smiling as he admires you. 

“You look good today,” he murmurs, “actually, you look good everyday.”

An undeniable tint of pink colours your face. “I’m literally wearing a black turtleneck sweater, Dongmin.”

His gaze softens. “Like the first time you sat next to me, three years ago, during our foundation year.”

Your eyes widen, your mind replaying the memory, fresh like it happened yesterday. “You… remember?” 

“Of course,” Dongmin replies, his smile delicate. 

“I even remember the day you walked up to me, confident and all. I thought you were going to brag to my face that you won first place for the quiz we had the day before, but then you told me to fake date you.”

You almost spit out the coffee from your mouth. “Han Dongmin!” you hiss. “Don’t remind me… it was so stupid.”

“Stupid?” Dongmin asks, tilting his head. The signature cocky smirk is back on his face. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah…” you sigh, “I mean, I could’ve resolved the matter by myself, you know–”

“But you know that I’m the best option,” Dongmin cuts you off, smug. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think it’s stupid, though,” he continues, his expression softer. More… raw. “To be honest, I think I was ecstatic that you walked up to me that day.”

“Why?” you ask croakily. 

“‘Cause I’ve always liked you, Y/N. I always have. I just don’t understand where things went wrong—maybe it’s the way I thought teasing you would gain me your attention at first. It did. But then, you became used to my teasing and thought of me as a threat—maybe ‘cause I’m smart as hell, too—but yeah. I don’t know how to say it but, all of that hatred was… pretend.”

You blink at him, too shocked to process his words. You try to reply, but mere stuttering comes out, and your face turns bright red. 

Dongmin notices this, of course, and he turns on his shameless, impudent grin. “Besides, you said you’re going to grant me any wish that I have, right?”

Oh. 

You inhale sharply. How could you forget? You immediately bring out your phone, checking the balance in your bank account. It’s quite a luxury, due to you working a few part time jobs during your break and whenever you can—but you certainly don’t think it’s fit for whatever grand wish Dongmin is about to demand from you. 

“Fine,” you huff, “only because it’s part of our… old contract.”

“Old contract, huh?” Dongmin wheezes, already laughing hard. You frown, fighting back a smile. 

“Why are you always laughing whenever I speak, dumbass?”

“Hey,” Dongmin pauses his laughter, flicking your forehead gently. It doesn’t even hurt, but you gasp dramatically, and he laughs it off. “It’s babe for you, sweet girl. And, I’m not laughing at you. I’m just admiring how cute and funny you are.”

Babe, huh?

You snort, hiding a smile. “Fine.”

“Anyway, speaking of the old contract,” Dongmin grins, “what’s the new one, then?”

“You haven’t even told me what sort of dumb, overpriced thing you want for your wish,” you say, lips set in a grim line. “And now you want another one?”

“My wish, huh?”

The unreadable look on his face makes you brace yourself and your wallet.

“Then, my darling, this is my wish.”

Dongmin leans forward, brushing his lips against yours. It’s subtle, short and sweet, but significant enough for you to realise it all—the reality of your feelings and his. He lingers for a while before sitting back in his chair. 

“So,” he says coolly, ignoring the plain blush streaked across his face. “Can you grant me the wish? To kiss you anytime, and anywhere I want?”

“Basically, physical affection can be done anytime?” you say, quoting what this man in front of you said months ago, when both of you first agreed on the fake-dating situation. The whole absurd set-up that brought the two of you to where you are, today. 

Dongmin laughs, clearly impressed. “Yeah,” he nods. 

You give him a warm smile, glad that you’re finally able to follow your heart’s desires, and to not put up a wall of defense around him anymore. 

“Wish granted.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[ssunhyuck]

TYSM FOR YOUR SWEET REBLOG i definitely tried something new with prince sungho and i was shitting bricks posting it but im glad you enjoyed it <33

omg i just saw this but naurrr it's ntg hehe just giving appreciation to what needs to be 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ thank u for sharing!!!

[blueberrybeomgyu]

prince sungho drabble *ೃ༄

+:🥞:﹤content : 18+ mdni, power bottom!sungho but i'm not sure if that's the right term, handjobs / wc : 600 / ml

✧･ﾟ: *

prince sungho doesn't like getting dirty. he has you repaint his baby pink nails every three days, has you lotion every inch of his fingers before you slip a pair of gloves over them. he chooses what he wears, and he watches you in the mirror every step of the way to make sure you're putting it on him right. at least, that's what he says but you know his eyes wander, can feel them burning holes into parts of your skin he shouldn't be looking at. he's not shy, and if you catch him a few times with his eyes on your ass, he'll shrug and quirk an eyebrow – he can do what he wants. 

he makes you feed him every part of his breakfast. he chews slowly and keeps eye contact with you the entire time you wipe crumbs away from his mouth. he teases you the entire day when the guards are distracted, dropping things just so he can watch you bend over to pick them up, fingers lingering where they barely meet yours as you hand it back to him.

after a long day of looking pretty, he prefers the way it feels when you scrub the soap over his skin as opposed to him doing it, less work for me, he'll say, but he's letting out soft, broken noises, and you genuinely doubt you're having an easier than he would. he makes sure you painstakingly clean off every inch of his body, his soft hair, his long neck, his smooth chest…often by the end of it, he’ll convince you to get in with him, how can you help him while having to lean over the side of the tub? it'd be so much easier if you just joined him…

his eyes wander again, hands resting on your body for much longer than necessary, getting you squirmy just from a few touches. on days when he’s feeling extra mean he presses gentle kisses to your back or neck and revel in the way you shiver, but it never goes far – he pulls back when he's bored, getting out of the tub and drying himself off. he orders you to finish washing yourself then come put him the bed.

he spreads out on the bed all pretty, getting worked up as you rub lotion on every inch of his skin. when his body is relaxed and his cock is standing upright, he bats his eyelashes at you and says, won’t you help me out? as if you have a choice…

he doesn't like getting dirty, except when it's the right moment. “time and place,” he says, and you know he means the hours you spend in his room every night, working your hand over his cock with your palm coated in unscented oil. 

he likes to be touched a very specific way, letting you know that he's still in charge, and that you will only do as he says. he'll talk you through it all – just how hard to pinch his nipples, just where to start touching his cock first, just when to let go so he doesn't cum too early. on rare, special nights if he’s had an especially good day, he slips into a different headspace. his eyes roll back as he whines out a soft please, and you do as he taught you, flicking your thumb across his slit, massaging the sensitive part of his base right below his head, lightly squeezing the tip between your fingertips. his control wavers, but you never feel any less wrapped around his finger. 

it doesn't take long for him to cum when he's like this, body shaking against his sheets, breathy moans ringing out in the walls of his room. your breath hitches at the sight, and he holds eye contact with you the entire time. 

you're hot and wet yourself, eager to go back to the servant chambers, but he won't stand for a rushed clean up. you must wipe his own cum off of his body with a wet rag as he drifts off the sleep. if you're lucky, he'll fall asleep before you leave, and you can slip out of his room with any article of clothing that's soaked with his scent and will help you ease the ache in your underwear.

✧･ﾟ: *

MY FIRST SUNGHO POST !!!!!!!!!

[fgumi]

ꕥ need a girl like; — myung jaehyun drabble, wc: 750, genre: romance, fluff

you sit on the couch, your phone in hand, scrolling through the seemingly endless stream of tweets and tiktoks about jaehyun’s recent performance on m! countdown. your boyfriend had just done a cover of “i need a girl,” and as much as you loved seeing him on stage, the flood of comments from fans asking if he was single or begging to be his girl had your stomach doing flips—not the good kind.

with each new post, a childish, lighthearted jealousy bubbles up inside you. you know it’s silly, but you can’t help it. jaehyun is yours, and seeing everyone else fawn over him like that makes you want to stake your claim a little louder.

“jaehyun!” you call out, your tone a mix of playful annoyance and possessiveness.

he pops his head around the corner, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “yeah?”

you don’t waste any time, holding up your phone for him to see. “delete it.”

his eyes widen, and he quickly crosses the room, looking at your phone with concern. “what? delete what? did something happen?”

you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “your performance. delete it.”

jaehyun blinks at you, clearly taken aback. “wait, what? why would i do that?”

you pout, feeling a little silly but pressing on anyway. “because all these people keep asking if you’re single or saying they want to be your girlfriend. it’s annoying.”

a look of realization dawns on his face, and he gives you a nervous smile, clearly unsure if you’re serious or not. “are… are you upset? i didn’t mean to—i mean, it’s just a performance, you know? it doesn’t mean anything.”

“of course, it doesn’t,” you reply, your tone firm. “because the girl you need is me.”

jaehyun’s eyes soften, and he quickly nods, his expression turning cute and earnest. “you’re right! you’re absolutely right.”

you huff again, still in your playful, possessive mood. “and everyone else can get lost because you’re mine.”

jaehyun’s lips twitch into a shy smile, his eyes sparkling with affection as he watches you. “okay, okay. i’m yours. only yours,” he says, his voice soft but filled with warmth.

then, with a bit of petty playfulness, you add, “and don’t think i didn’t see how you looked at youngji.”

jaehyun’s eyes widen, and he starts rapidly shaking his head, his words tumbling out in a flustered rush. “what? no, no! i wasn’t—I didn’t—i was just imagining you! really, i swear!”

you can’t hold back the laughter that bubbles up at his panicked reaction. you reach out, patting his head gently, your expression softening. “i’m just messing with you, jaehyun. i know it's just a performance.”

jaehyun breathes out a sigh of relief, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “you almost gave me a heart attack,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

“you’re too easy to tease,” you reply with a grin, leaning in to rest your head against his chest.

he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. “maybe, but you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“i’m not jealous,” you insist, though the slight blush on your cheeks gives you away.

“mm-hmm,” jaehyun hums, his grin widening as he sees your resolve start to crack. “you totally are.”

you finally cave, letting out a giggle as you lean into him more, soaking in the warmth of his embrace. “fine, maybe a little,” you admit, the playful jealousy melting away as you bask in the comfort of being close to him.

“you know,” you say after a moment, looking up at him, “you were amazing on stage. really.”

jaehyun’s eyes light up at the praise, and he gives you a sweet smile. “i’m glad you think so. i did it extra well just for you.”

your heart flutters at his words, and you reach up to cup his cheek, pulling him down for a soft, lingering kiss. when you pull away, you see that same shy, puppy-like smile on his face, and it makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“i love you,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours.

“i love you too,” you reply, feeling all the earlier jealousy fade into nothingness. “and don’t worry, i’ll try not to get too jealous next time.”

jaehyun chuckles, holding you tighter. “no promises, though, right?”

“no promises,” you agree with a grin, both of you laughing together as the last remnants of your silly jealousy disappear, leaving only the warmth of his love in its place.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments are appreciated! ✧ !nanamlist

[astrae4]

A LADY’S GUIDE TO SECURING A MAN WITH BROAD SHOULDERS | park sungho

pairings — park sungho x reader (non idol au)

genre — (wc: 1.5k) fluff, romance 😼, strangers to lovers, fast-burn

warnings — ur kinda stalking him.. a bit…

note — HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY SUNGHO!!! Guys i lowk want a man with shoulders as broad as his 🙁 is that too much to ask.. ALSO DANGEROUS WAS SO GOOD!!! The song teases too omg..right in my alley. I cannot wait for the album drop 😋😋

more works: navigation | bnd!masterlist

YOU SWEAR YOU’VE NEVER BEEN this interested in gyms before. Yeah, sure, you’re sporty. But gym sporty? Yeah no—that’s another level of torture.

Right now though…man you might just change your mind. You do one more bench press, super slow with your focus elsewhere—namely, the mirror on your right that shows a small reflection of the most scrumptious man you have ever seen in your life.

Those shoulders? Good gosh, they’d be perfect for your hands to rest on, agree?

(And the crowd screams yes!!!)

This was how you started being more consistent in the gym. Currently in week three and you’re so proud that you’re broken your world record of gym streaks.

You’ve decided then: you’re going to get him.

There was just one slight problem to this equation… you don’t have any courage to talk to him.

All you know are three facts:

His name was Park Sungho (how’d you know?you overheard a friend of his call him once. You’re not a creep, okay!!)

He had the most gorgeous shoulders known to mankind.

You want him.

Okay so maybe the third one isn’t really a fact—and you swear (cross your heart!) that your infatuation with him isn’t merely because his eyes are as twinkly as the moon, nor because his lips were plump and not crusty like most men, nor is it also because his voice is just…

Anyways! You get what I mean.

That was how you ended up ranting everything to your friend Sanghyeok—which apparently calls himself Riwoo now because he said he felt more cool and mysterious with that name. ( ok get it our nonchalant dread head!! )

“Park Sungho??” Asked Riwoo, startled once you blurted everything, “you mean the one with the pointy nose and sweet voice?”

You paused and raised an eyebrow at him, “duh? Have you been listening this whole time?”

“No not like that—you mean Park Sungho in class 19.99 right? He’s in your calculus class, dummy.”

“Wait—WHAT.”

Riwoo threw you a deadass stare, before fishing a muffin out his pocket and shoving his face in it. Perhaps he knew you too well as you started shaking him for answers.

”Just go approach him—”

”I can’t!”

”Then stop talking to me about it!”

“Please, my-Ri-to-the-woo—”

”UGH FINE! But no promises and you buy me a dozen donuts tomorrow.”

”Deal!”

You didn’t get him that dozen of donuts, but Lee Sanghyeok, being the good friend he is, still ended up conversing with his Sungho hyung in their shared dance class for you.

Luckily for you, he managed to score a hangout—the three of you—for next Wednesday over coffee and desserts.

Finally, with all the gears set in, you could start with ‘diary entry 1: A LADY’S GUIDE TO SECURING A MAN WITH BROAD SHOULDERS’

(yes, it’s meant to be this long)

1. A lady hints, not talks

The first ever step-slash-rule to secure a man is to give hints. Yes, hints. No way are YOU the one to make the first move, you hear me ladies? 😒 If he doesn’t pick up on the clues, then you drop!

Wednesday came. And boy, it came with a lot of nervousness, I tell you! But you were ready. Dropped in the cutest fit you have—a pair of jeans with a puffy dress on top (THIS COMBO>>>)—you were absolutely ready to charm Park Sungho.

It took you a while, but you made it on time (5 minutes late) to the cafe, Riwoo and Sungho conversing already at a table near the windows. Riwoo was the first to see you, sending a wave. You returned it, and right after, Sungho sent you one too—albeit less dramatic. Your smile turned up a bit more before sending a smaller wave back to him.

”Hi guys! Sorry if I’m late.”

”It’s okay, we just came,” replied Riwoo, “this is Sungho, my friend in Dance. Sungho, this is my best friend, [reader]”

Sungho stood up to shake your hand, and you both exchanged ‘nice to meet you’(s).

”Let me get coffee real quick!” You told them, before going to the cashier.

After you ordered, you went back to your seat.

“How are you these days, [reader]?” asked Riwoo

”Good, although I think I overworked my feet yesterday, It hurts slightly,” you replied, which by the way, was a big fat lie.

“Ah, is it doing better now?” asked Sungho, who was deeply concerned.

”It should be, I think,” you replied shortly.

More small talk was made before your order number got called. You went up to get it but before you could fully stand—

“I’ll get it for you, [reader],” answered Sungho.

“Huh?” both you and Riwoo replied in shock.

“You should rest your feet since they might still be in pain if you overexert it,” he replied simply.

“Oh there’s really no need, Sungho—“ you denied at first despite the fact that you were internally giggling.

“Please, I insist,” He replied with a smile that almost melted you on the spot, before taking your receipt and heading to the cashier.

It was silent for a moment before your eyes met Riwoo’s, and his met yours. Both of you kicked each other’s feet before suppressing a big fat grin.

2. a lady takes no risks

consult God (or a fortune teller if you’re not religious) to make sure this man is for you. Use the mind, not the heart.

“Okay,” You muttered to yourself like a nutjob, “IF. And only IF he is the one…um..” you paused your prayer for a second because you had no idea what to say.

You decided to just settle for the classic, “Please send me a sign, amen.”

And with that, you fixed your hair and applied pink lip gloss before leaving the house.

Step after steps, you kept thinking of him until you reached the actual library. You took a deep breath before going in. You were early this time, but it seems that Park Sungho has a matter of showing up super early, because he’s already there—sitting in a seat near the windows.

He had his back facing you, so you snuck up on him quietly before placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Sungho,” you muttered quietly, and he jolted, spinning around to look at you fast.

Were you delusional, or is he staring at you?

“Sungho..?” you repeated.

That seemed to jolt him out of his state, “Oh, [reader]—yes, sorry for that. I was out of it—“

You giggled before taking a seat beside him, “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

There wasn’t much small talk after that, as you both seemed focused and determined to do well on your project. Mid-way, however, a crash followed by a yelp took you out of your very focused state. You turned to see Sungho—only, a book fell on top of his head.

“Sorry!” said a boy above you looking down on the rails. You both seemed to recognize him as Myung Jaehyun, who’s also in your shared calc class together.

“Why that—“ said Sungho, before he gives you a quick brb and went upstairs; probably to murder Jaehyun.

You picked up the book on the ground, and then stilled when you read the title.

‘The Sign’ by Robert Van Kampen.

Oh.

I mean, you’re not opposing now, are you?

3. A lady enjoys the reaps that she sowed

Get rizzed up all night by a nice guy (stream nice guy!!!)

“I love your shoulders,” you muttered at him, a hand on his bicep.

2 months had passed since you first dated each other.

”Oh yeah?” He replied, but his words seemed unfocused and disconnected—I mean, who can blame him when you’re sitting on him, looking so cute after you both just made out.

“Mhm,” you answered once more.

”Tell me more,” He asked.

You did, but midway you realized he was just looking over your lips—not paying attention. You rolled your eyes.

“Are you even list—“

He cut you off with another kiss. It lasted a while before he pulled away once more.

”Can’t believe I’m yours,” He whispered, smiling goofily.

You giggled. Yeah, Park Sungho’s yours. The man with broad shoulders is yours.

TAGLIST: @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @lonewolfjinji @teddywonss @taerae-verse

NETWORKS: @k-labels @onedoornet

© astrae4 2024 — please don't copy, translate, or plagiarize my works on all platforms!

[nicholasluvbot]

‎ ‎ ୨୧ ‎ ‎ ‎ HEATHER ──── ( HAN TAESAN )

‎( taesan gives you his sweater > < ) ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ fluff , down bad taesan ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 0.7K words ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ note ... 🗯 something quick to get me out of my slump! if you got a sweater today you are my biggest enemy. bye ^^

@onedoornet , @k-films , @kstrucknet

it was one of those chilly december evenings where the air nipped at your skin despite the layers you had bundled up in. the streets were lined with festive lights, and the air buzzed with the promise of the holidays. you had joined your friends for a spontaneous hot chocolate run, and while everyone seemed perfectly comfortable, you couldn’t stop shivering. despite the lively chatter and occasional bursts of laughter from your friends, you couldn’t ignore the biting cold that seemed to find every gap in your clothing.

taesan, ever observant when it came to you, noticed right away. he had been sneaking glances at you all night, his heart doing little flips every time you laughed or brushed a strand of hair out of your face. you were trying to be subtle about it, but he saw the way you rubbed your arms and how your fingers trembled slightly around your cup. when your teeth started to chatter, he tugged off his oversized sweater without a word, the fabric catching slightly as he pulled it over his head. the gesture was so casual that, for a moment, you didn’t even notice he was holding it out for you.

“here,” he said. his tone was casual, but the look in his eyes betrayed a quiet urgency.

you blinked, taken aback. “taesan, i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he cut in, his voice gentle but firm. “you’re freezing.”

you hesitated for a moment before taking it, the warmth of the fabric and his scent enveloping you as you pulled it over your head. it was far too big, the sleeves nearly covering your hands, but it was undeniably cozy.

“thanks,” you muttered, your cheeks tinged with more than just the cold.

his lips quirked into a shy smile as he looked away, pretending to be focused on his cup of hot chocolate.

taesan had always been nervous around you—too nervous to speak to you or sit beside you. his friends often pushed him to talk to you, but he never seemed to gather the courage. the biggest move he’d made so far was wrapping his arm around your shoulder for a picture during a group hangout. it had taken hours for him to finally do it, and even then, his touch was light, as if he was afraid of crossing some invisible line. you knew about his little crush; jaehyun had mentioned it a thousand times, always teasing him about how smitten he was with you. at first, it was funny, the way taesan tried to hide his feelings and shift his focus whenever you were around, but over time, it became endearing.

for the rest of the night, he stayed close to you, his usual quiet demeanor making it seem like he was just keeping pace. but you noticed how he slowed his steps whenever you lingered behind or how he shifted his body to shield you from the chilling wind without making a big deal out of it.

your hands brushed as you walked side-by-side. you turned your head to look at him. his cheeks were pink, and his hair was tousled from having taken off his sweater in a rush. when he caught you staring, red crept up his neck as his lips curved into a bashful smile.

“what?” he asked, a stupid, wide grin dancing on his lips. you shook your head and turned your attention back to woonhak, who was laughing out loud at the sight of a little kid slipping on the snow and falling on his butt.

by the time your friends decided to call it a night, you were still in taesan’s sweater. as you said your goodbyes, you hesitated, starting to lift it over your head to give it back.

“keep it,” taesan said quickly, his hand brushing yours to stop you. “it looks better on you, anyway,” he wanted to say but decided against it. in return, you just smiled at taesan and murmured a small thank you before leaving to get home.

as the group dispersed, you caught him looking at you one last time, his smile lingering in the glow of the streetlights. taesan didn’t care that his friends had noticed or that they might tease him later—tonight, you were wearing his sweater, and that was all that mattered.

© nicholasluvbot , 2024.

[chewnotchoke]

like no one else can

ೃ࿐ boynextdoor as your situationship

this was fun to write,,i was wondering if i should make individual fics abt this...what do yall think? ^__^ feedbacks and comments are appreciated ! and also my ask is always open if u wnna chitty chat <3

warnings: fluff, intense pining, light angst, signs of red flags

wc per member: ~250-400

sungho

“i’m trying to understand what am i to you?”

𓍯 situationship with sungho would be filled with a lot of "almosts" that keep you guessing, excitement, and unexpected outcomes. he would have this easygoing, carefree attitude as if he truly enjoyed your time together, but he’s also hard to pin down. he would bring you as his ‘plus one’ to parties or events and he has once invited you to a family outing “as a friend”

𓍯 sungho likes to do actions that you couldn’t help but assign meanings to these little things. he would give you a bite of his food in between laughter and throw tiny comments such as “i thought about you the other day.” the way he laughs at your jokes, recalls small details you mention, and checks up on you in between classes makes you question if he does the same with other people. if you didn't witness him opening doors for people, helping classmates with their homework, and giving the same endearing smile to anyone in need, it would be quite easy to convince yourself that the things he did to you meant something.

𓍯 when you mention being cold, he casually throws his hoodie over your shoulders and says, "just give it back whenever." yet it stays with you for days and he doesn't bring it up either, as if sharing his hoodie has become a relationship between you two. but when you decide to give it back, your heart aches to see another girl wearing his hoodie.

𓍯 the combination of highs and unanswered questions would be thrilling, and his charm would entice you to return for more. but the question “what am i to you” hangs in the open air because then, if you really meant something to him, he wouldn’t have treated others the same way he did to you.

𓍯 was it mutual at some point? maybe, or maybe not.

riwoo

“i know it’s casual but i look for you in a room full of people”

𓍯 likes having alone time with you. plans a hang out with your friends to watch a movie but the truth is he didn't invite anyone else just so he could watch the movie and spend time alone together. at the end of the movie, you'd just be wiping off your lips because you spent the whole time making out.

𓍯 situationship with riwoo is almost like a secret. he knows how to pull you towards him, and the relationship has you on chokehold. most of the time, he makes moves that make you question the very foundation of your relationship. he acts like he likes you. but does he actually do?

𓍯 during a chill drinking celebration at your friends' house, both of you always find a reason to text each other even if you're literally in the same room. that one time when you were seated a little too far from him, he pulls out his phone, typing under the table making sure no one gets a peak of his message, he would send you, "you're too far from me :(" it seems as though the thread that binds you is stronger than everything else, and every communication feels like a secret that only the two of you know. you'd look up from your phone to give him a glance and he gives you a subtle look—the look that even when you try to look away, you could feel his eyes settled on you.

𓍯 his red flag would probably be saying things like, "would you be jealous if i went out with someone else?" or talking about his ex. but right when he gives you enough reasons that he's not good for you, he pulls the "what would it take for us to stop pretending this isn’t more than casual?" card.

jaehyun

“you say we’re just friends but why do you look at me like that when no one’s around?”

𓍯 when you clearly don’t look like you’re just friends but it’s becoming a running joke now–jaehyun responds without skipping a beat whenever someone arches an eyebrow and asks if there is more going on between you and him. he casually replies, “we’re just friends.” and each time you force a smile that falls short of your eyes, you nod along.

𓍯 jaehyun has this habit of leaning towards you whenever he laughs, sometimes his head falls on your shoulder for a moment which kinda makes you flinch during the first few times but now that you’re used to it, you let your heads touch each other when you laugh together.

𓍯 when he spots you alone leaning outside the glass door at a party, you feel his presence slowly approaching you and then he simply stands there in comforting silence, staring at you in that familiar way, without saying anything at first. when you told him that you get more comfortable attending parties because he’s around, he’d flash a smirk, and his eyes return to the expression he always gives you when no one else is there. jaehyun looks intensely at your face as if he’s searching for something–searching for a sign.

𓍯 you can’t resist yourself to ask him a question if he’s sure about it. “sure about what?” his tone is gentle, and the corner of his mouth twitches as if he clearly understands what you are saying. “sure that we’re just friends…” you replied. jaehyun pauses before responding. he just looks at you, his eyes darting to your lips and back to your eyes, a spark there that he tries to conceal but can't quite get rid of. he lets out a tense and nervous laugh. “yeah, we’re just friends.” but his words were laced with hesitation and uncertainty. and there you thought, maybe the look he gives you is enough, for now.

taesan

“you treat me like this because you know you're my weakness.”

𓍯 taesan knows how flustered you get when he touches you. during lunchtime with your other friends, you tried to ignore how he sat closer to you than usual. when your friends make a joke and others laugh along, you try so hard to focus but you just can’t seem to grasp the fact that his knees and yours were touching. then, his fingertips lightly touched your leg, so gentle at first that you nearly questioned whether it was an accident. however, taesan’s hand becomes steady and warm, and you can only sense his calm presence. you attempt to maintain a neutral appearance on the outside as your heart twitches and your mind attempts to process the unexpected sensation. his smile is as laid-back as ever, and he continues to laugh with the group as if this is nothing unusual.

𓍯 situationship with taesan can be a little frustrating. he likes to give you mixed signals. he’s mostly all about you most of the time and he holds eye contact like you’re the only person he could see. but then the next day, he barely acknowledges your presence. he’s quiet and doesn’t speak to you. but you know what’s bad for you? the fact that you'd fold immediately bcs he really just knows how to give you butterflies right when you think he’s not interested. taesan would come up behind you, whispering to your ear saying, “i missed you today.” and you would quickly fold like you didn't just question everything about him.

𓍯 at some point, the feelings were mutual. but you got tired of going around in circles waiting for nothing to happen, so you just decided to move on and bury your feelings just to keep the friendship.

leehan

“teach me how to not care about these feelings that keep me up at night for nothing.”

𓍯 you don’t talk everyday but that’s what makes everything thrilling. and when you do talk, texting usually lasts until 3am. although you can feel the weight of your eyelids by this time, you try to stay awake just to converse with him. conversations with leehan are almost raw, something about each message is intimate—one you probably wouldn’t hear in the daylight. the thought that he actually also stays up with you makes you wonder how much he’s also feeling.

𓍯 leehan has the subtlest way of making you laugh. he’s nonchalant but he’s the type to make you intrigued without fully committing. with that being said, he knows when to pull back when he thinks you’re getting a little too attached over a situationship even if he's the one responsible for making you feel that way

𓍯 after dates, goodbyes often linger in the air. both of you enjoyed too much to actually walk away and go back home. when he stands close enough to hug you, you could feel his hand linger on your back like he’s in no rush to go back home. both of you stood there quiet, glancing at each other, enough to decipher by the look of your eyes that there are still unsaid words. “i’ll text you when i get back home.” he holds both of your hands as they slightly brush away from yours whenever he takes a step back. you know yourself you want something more from this situationship which causes your heart to ache.

𓍯 leehan is still not letting go of your hand even at the point where your fingertips are only touching each other. “let’s do that next time.” he says and adds, “sleep over.”

𓍯 and when he actually gets back home, you don't receive a text from him at all, and talked again the following days like nothing happened.

woonhak

"why does it feel like we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move?"

𓍯 it’s painfully obvious that both of you like each other. neither of you just couldn’t bring yourself up to confess. there’s always this tension that hangs heavy in the air when you’re with him. you're lounging on his couch while watching a film. with his shoulder almost touching yours, he is closer than friends should be. the couch's modest size is a flimsy excuse, but you both know there's more to it. woonhak’s arm occasionally moves, grazing yours and giving you a shiver, but he doesn't pull away. both of you are dancing around that invisible line, on the brink. his hand is getting closer and closer till your fingers would touch if you both moved even a little.

𓍯 every time you're together, you experience this torturous pulling, waiting for the other to finally release the tension that has been building for weeks. his hand moves next to yours, his fingers flexing as though he wants to grab you but isn't quite brave enough. and you can't help but wonder whether you're both simply waiting for a sign, anything that would eventually allow one of you to cross that line.

𓍯 woonhak constantly teases you, looking for excuses to rub your hair or bump into your shoulder, and he enjoys seeing how you respond to his pranks. he says something, though, that takes you entirely by surprise just when you think it's all a friendly act.

𓍯 “i feel like we’re both good at being complicated.” he chuckles. you can sense that you're both still holding back and skirting the truth because you're afraid of altering something that feels so near-perfect. but when you meet his eyes, you can see that this isn't the end of it because of the little warmth that remains in his smile.

[riizegasm]

International Relations || K. DH (Leehan)

❀ pairing: president’s son!donghyun x rival!reader (implied fem reader), ft. various foreign idol cameos

❀ genre: enemies to lovers, suggestive (like it gets very tense and a little graphic at the end), minor fluff

❀ word count: ~5.5k

❀ warnings: explicit language, suggestive content, drug mention, alcohol consumption

❀ summary: In the perpetual game of cat and mouse, you always find yourself on the offense. So why does Donghyun look like the cat who got the cream? And why is defeat so hard to admit?

❀ A/N: SURPRISE!!!! Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and is in no way related to the global political landscape. Please let me know how you guys like this one :)))

It’s too early on a Tuesday morning when a loud knock rings out throughout your bedroom, instantly rousing you from your slumber. You barely have time to open your eyes before a familiar face is letting himself into your room. Hanbin is clearly frazzled, his normally perfect appearance marred by a necktie with an improper knot and a severe case of bed head. You imagine you don’t look much better. 

“You need to get up, now,” Hanbin rushes, beginning to flit about your bedroom at a panicked pace. “You have an interview with Kim Donghyun in an hour.”

Even through your sleepy haze, the statement immediately has you sitting up straight. “What?!”

As the darling son of the South Korean President, Kim Donghyun was more than just a household name. He was held as a sort of international superstar, known for his mellow temperament and his stunning looks. As the child of your own nation’s president, you have crossed paths with him quite a few times; enough times, in fact, to know just how much of an utter asshole he is. 

“What do you mean interview with Kim Donghyun?” You ask, as Hanbin hadn’t bothered to clarify. 

The man is still pacing the length of your lavish bedroom, typing something angrily into his phone. 

“It’s for the BBC. They are doing some story on the children of international government officials. Since the Kim family is here for the United Nations Gala later this week, they asked to squeeze in an interview for you two to do together.”

“Together?” You groan, running your hands through your already messy hair. “Why didn’t you tell them no?”

“Your mother’s assistant accepted before I even heard about it. She also just so happened to forget to tell me until 15 minutes ago,” Hanbin sighs, finally stopping his hurried movement. “Please, just get dressed. There will be hair and makeup at the interview site, but we have to leave soon.”

You can’t help but groan again, fighting the tantrum building up in your core. A last minute interview would already irritate you enough, but having to do it with Kim Donghyun is enough to have you cursing the universe. 

It blew your mind that he was able to be the world’s golden child when he had such a rotten core. He was disgustingly cocky and spoiled, clearly used to having everyone in his life cater to him. He couldn’t be bothered with anyone who he didn’t perceive to be of his status, never choosing to mingle with anyone except for his exclusive inner circle. 

What makes it all worse is how disgustingly attractive he is. His blonde locks always frame his face perfectly, sometimes falling to obscure one of his ever-so-sparkly eyes. His full lips are always twisted into that cocky smirk he constantly wears, his left cheek always dimpling with the expression. He was tall and built like a model, his godly proportions always highlighted by the perfectly tailored suits he wore. 

He’s so beautiful; you fucking hate him. 

His deplorable beauty twists your stomach into knots an hour and a half later, when you slide into the seat next to him. The interview space has been set up so that the two of you are seated in chairs just inches apart, bright lights shining down on you so that the cameras can capture virtually any flaw. But of course, Donghyun still looks perfect, greeting you with his signature smirk. 

“Y/N,” he drawls, voice deep and syrupy like honey. “It’s been a while.”

“Not long enough, clearly.”

You pointedly ignore the deep chuckle that your remark earns you. The sound still manages to slip past your barriers, setting the pit of your stomach ablaze. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me.”

You can’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes even though Donghyun can barely see it. “You wish.”

“Yeah,” Donghyun whispers, barely audible. “I do wish.”

Palpable tension is nothing new for the two of you, your perpetual spats and teasing always leaving the air in the room a bit thicker than it had been before. The flirting always adds another layer. It’s not as if either of you mean anything by it, nor would anything ever happen between the two of you. But something about the smooth ways Donghyun counters your banter while looking like he wants to eat you alive makes you consistently hot under the collar. 

It’s at that moment that the interviewer makes her way onto set, greeting you both with a warm smile. She’s clearly a fan of Donghyun, seemingly only addressing him in the few moments you have before the interview officially starts. The moment you get the countdown and the notice that they’re rolling from the director, however, she slips on her professional mask and begins the interview.

The hour slot goes by both painfully slow and surprisingly quick. You find it easy to get lost in Donghyun’s answers, fighting the urge to stare at his mouth as he speaks. But when it comes to your own answers, you find it hard to articulate exactly what you mean. It makes the minutes trickle by at a snail’s pace, only for the time to pick back up when Donghyun opens his mouth again. 

You let out a sigh when the interview is finally over, the journalist thanking both you and Donghyun before disappearing somewhere off set. It leaves you and Donghyun seated while various crew members fuss over you to rid you of your mics. The silence between the two of you only lasts for a few moments before Donghyun decides to break it.

“You should come over.”

You can’t help but look at the man as if he’d grown another head, gaze flickering between Donghyun and the rest of the crew that lingers within earshot. He just shrugs, clearly uncaring if anyone overhears. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” You whisper as harshly as you can. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Ehh…not yet,” Donghyun smiles. “So come over.”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“I have some, uh, business matters I’d like to discuss with you.”

Before you have a chance to respond, Donghyun is standing from his chair, mile-long legs making themselves known as he rises to his full height. It takes everything in you not to stare at how stupidly tiny his waist is or how disgustingly broad his shoulders look in his suit jacket. 

“I’ll have my people contact your people,” Donghyun says as he turns to leave, shooting you the tiniest smirk. “I’ll see you at eight, Y/N.”

.         .         .

You choose to show up to the specified address closer to 9:30pm than the expected 8. Hanbin says it’s out of spite, but you just consider it being fashionably late. Of course, no one is ever fashionably late to a business meeting, but a nagging feeling in your core tells you that it will be anything but that. 

Your interactions with Donghyun have never simply been about business. The two of you always find yourselves in too close proximity, heated arguments ending up with you getting in each others’ faces or quiet insults whispered between a minimal space. Every attempt that the two of you have made to be cordial and civil just ends in fire and flirtation. So, the two of you have simply stopped trying. You no longer hide behind the guise of business or international affairs, choosing instead to be transparent in your desires to see each other. After all, both of you want nothing more than to push each other’s buttons. 

Your suspicions are confirmed the minute you’re let into a swanky penthouse in the financial district of town, a well-known area for foreign ambassadors and their family residences. A sleek black door opens to reveal a shocked face that quickly melts into smugness. Donghyun simply smirks before opening the door wider, motioning for you to come in. 

What was supposed to be a business meeting is obviously much more of a house party than anything else. You recognize a few familiar faces: Ricky Shen, the son of the U.S. vice president, Ning Yizhuo, the daughter of your country’s ambassador to China, and even the Yoon brothers, the sons of the Canadian Prime Minister. It seems like all of the children of top officials are here, drinking and chatting idly around the lavish apartment. If you were an outsider, you would laugh, the scene seeming all too much like a shitty movie interpretation of the life of the elite. But you know all too well that this is how it goes. 

You’re sure that somewhere, there’s a stash of the world’s purest cocaine for anyone to indulge in. There may even be pills and other harder drugs if anyone wished to partake. The combined net worth of this crowd is well over $1 trillion, and that alone makes them untouchable. They are free to do as they please, simply enjoying the ability to be imperfect while the entire world sees them as the exact opposite. 

“I’m surprised you came,” Donghyun whispers, his deep voice much closer than you remember it being. 

When you turn, you find yourself almost nose to nose with the man, his greasy smirk still poised on his flawless face. 

“I thought we were going to talk business,” you manage out, sounding much more confident than you truly feel. “Didn’t know that business involved so many people.”

Donghyun cocks a perfectly manicured brow. “You wish it was just the two of us, then?”

You can’t help but scoff, instantly reminded of your deep disdain for the man. “I wish you would stop fucking with me, Donghyun.”

A call of the man’s name sounds from somewhere deeper in the apartment, forcing the two of you out of your unintentional bubble. Over your shoulder, you can spot Donghyun’s typical entourage of friends, all beckoning him over with a frantic wave of the hand. Donghyun seems to notice at the same time, sighing deeply before taking a long swig of the beer in his hand. You struggle not to track the movement of his throat as he swallows. 

“Well,” he sighs. “Duty calls. Try to have a little fun, sweetheart. You look like you need it.”

The man is gone before you can give him a piece of your mind, leaving you alone in the room full of people. Luckily, they’re all people that you know, having been well acquainted since early childhood. Everyone in this world knows everyone, which leads to a revolving door of familiar faces at every function. As much as you crave novelty, you can’t help but appreciate the familiarity. 

Even still, it takes you a couple drinks to relax into the atmosphere. You find yourself giggling and making rounds as you mingle, spending extra time indulging in people that you know push Donghyun’s buttons. As much as you don’t care about the man and his reactions, you can admit how fun it is to see him riled up. 

“I swear you get more beautiful every time I see you,” Jake gushes, plush bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “There’s no way you’re still single.”

You shrug, preening under the praise. “I don’t know. I guess I just haven’t found anyone who wants it bad enough.”

Hook, line, and sinker. Jake looks like he’s only a few seconds from devouring you whole, eyes raking your form despite the fact that your outfit reveals nothing. He reaches forward, his fingertips just barely brushing the curve of your waist before you’re snatched backwards. You stumble into a firm chest, the arm wrapped around your waist keeping you steady against the tall figure behind you. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” a deep voice mumbles, easily recognizable. “I just need to steal Y/N for a second. Feel free to grab another drink or something in the meantime.”

You can barely register the confusion on Jake’s face before you’re being whisked away, only managing to shoot the boy a quick wave before you’re ushered down a hallway. It’s only once you’re decently far away from the noise of the party that you’re backed up against a wall, Donghyun’s frame leaning over you. He’s far enough that it would seem casual to an outside viewer. But you know that it’s anything but. 

“No dating scandals for years, and yet you’re willing to risk it all for Jake Sim?” Donghyun chuckles cruelly. “Didn’t peg you for that type.”

“I didn’t peg you for the type to be all up in my business,” you retort, crossing your arms across your chest defiantly. “You jealous that it’s not you?”

“We both know that it could be…that it should be.”

A sly smirk is poised on Donghyun’s face as he peers down his nose at you, strong arm continuing to cage you against the wall. You could escape if you really wanted to, a clear opening for you to slip by and go about your night. But you don’t really want to, a fact that both of you know. 

This is how it’s always gone between you, a perpetual game of cat and mouse. The two of you have spent your entire lives circling each other, just waiting for someone to fall into the other’s trap. And right now, backed against a wall, you realize that this time, you’re the prey. Instead of fear, however, a stinging warmth floods your veins. 

“Admit it,” Donghyun whispers, words clearly just meant for the two of you. “I know you just want to say it.”

“Admit what?”

Your voice only comes out as a mere whisper, the wild thumping of your heart making it impossible to focus on your words. Donghyun knows the effect that he has on you, knows that just one smirk sent your way is enough to have you fuming for the rest of the day. He knows how much you think about him, how much you crave him, but he needs to hear you say it. 

“Admit that you want me.”

The short command has your breath stuttering in your chest, eyes growing wide. You always enjoyed the push and pull around Donghyun, the game of never quite knowing where the both of you stood. It seems like he does too, always quick to playfully flirt and jokingly fight. But to admit it out loud, that’s something new. 

To admit it out loud would be admitting defeat. 

“And what do I get if I admit it?”

Donghyun just scoffs, cocky smirk deepening. “Then maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“And what is it that I want?”

The man leans closer, the scent of his cherry chapstick ever so enticing. You can’t help the way your gaze shoots down to Donghyun’s lips for a brief moment, imagining what it would be like to feel them on your own. It wouldn’t be hard to close the distance, but you know that would mean you lost. 

“You want to kiss me so bad.”

The stinging warmth floods your face. Fuck. Knowing that he knows how you feel and hearing him say it are two different things. And the worst part is that he’s right. All you’ve ever wanted to do since the minute you’ve encountered Kim Donghyun is kiss the smirk off his face. And there’s something in the twinkle in his eyes that tells you, for the very first time, he just might let you. 

“And if I do?” Your own confidence shocks you. 

“Well,” Donghyun murmurs, letting his free hand place itself on the curve of your hip. “Like I said, I just might give it to you.”

Your breath catches on an inhale, the low timbre of the man’s voice shooting electricity through your veins. Everything about Kim Donghyun is so invigorating, so thrilling, that you feel like you could get drunk on his presence. He’s simply addictive. 

“I think you’re all talk, Kim,” you bite out, trying your best not to stutter through your sentence. “I think that you’re projecting to hide how much you want me.”

It’s impossible to miss the way Donghyun stares at your mouth as you talk, pupils dilating to expose something deep and raw. His thumb has halted where it was previously drawing mindless shapes into the fabric of your waistband, as if stunned by your words. His pause only lasts for a few seconds before leaning impossibly closer. 

“There’s no denying that, sweetheart. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

Hmm, maybe you are the predator after all. 

“Then do something about it.”

Donghyun shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “I need you to say it first.”

A rush of heat flashes through your core, making your knees grow weak. Your want for him has never been this bad before, but you’re finding it harder and harder to contain. 

“C’mon,” Donghyun coos. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

Your lips remain parted, stuck, as you try to figure out what to say next. You can’t give in to him, but god do you want to. It’s in moments like these when you want to fold, with the warm fan of Donghyun’s breath on your face, his eyes hooded and pupils slightly dilated, and perfectly pink lips trapped between his teeth. You could lose the game, willingly walk into his trap and put an end to all of the years of teasing. With just a few words, you could get everything you have ever wanted. 

Luckily, your internal dilemma is cut short as someone emerges from a door down the hall, stumbling their way out. The girl is giggling as she drags her feet along the sleek wooden floors. Despite her sluggish steps, she seems confident in her path towards you and Donghyun, only stopping to place a perfectly manicured hand on Donghyun’s shoulder. 

“Donghyun,” she practically whines. “I think Dani drank too much. She’s throwing up!”

At the slur of words, Donghyun sighs, fully straightening up and putting some distance between the two of you. You hate the way that your body instinctively leans towards him, as if magnetized. The man just shoots you an apologetic look before turning to the drunken woman hanging off his shoulder. 

“Do you know where she is, Hanni?”

The girl just nods, pointing a finger back in the direction from which she came. Donghyun lets out another sigh before motioning for Hanni to take the lead. He’s quick to follow her, not before sending you a small wink. 

Once the two disappear into the room that you assume is the bathroom, you text Hanbin, immediately asking him to pick you up. Suddenly, the night has turned bitter again. Only a honeyed voice could make it return to being sweet. 

.         .         .

If you had a nickel for every time you thought about Kim Donghyun in the following days, you would be swimming in more money than your already wealthy family would ever need. 

He haunts your dreams as much as he clouds your waking thoughts. The image of his normally wide, sparkling eyes hooded as they peered down into you is seared into your brain. The flex of his arm feels like it’s been tattooed behind your eyelids as it kept the distance between the two of you, a distance that you had so desperately wished to close. 

You can’t help but imagine what would’ve happened if you did, if you were able to admit just how desperately you wanted him. You wonder if the desperation would bleed into the kiss you shared, or if it would be passionate and fiery like the constant bickering between the two of you. Would he continue to cage you against the wall, pressing further into your space until you were pressed flush against his body? Would you be able to feel the hard ridges of his stomach? Would his hips connect with yours as you got lost in the kiss, bodies meeting in a filthy gri—.

“It’s out!” Hanbin all but yells, interrupting your train of thought. “They’re about to air your interview with Kim Donghyun.”

You barely register Hanbin’s words before the television screen in front of you is flickering to life, bathing your face in a warm blue light. The title screen then cuts to the smiling face of the interviewer. The clip is angled so that it looks like she is smiling at both of her guests, but you remember exactly how her gaze was trained on one person only. The memory makes your blood boil. 

Hanbin gushes with commentary and compliments as the highlights of the interview are aired on the news. It’s only when they move on to tales of some new humanitarian crisis in Western Europe that the man pulls out his phone, instantly scouring the internet for any mention of you. 

“Oh, Y/N,” he mumbles after a moment. “I don’t know if you’re going to love this or hate this.”

“What?”

Hanbin just sighs, handing over his phone. No matter how far you scroll, similar posts keep popping up, all focused on how good you and Donghyun would look as a couple. A queasy warmth overtakes your stomach as you continue to parse through the endless support of the fictional romance between the two of you. A reaction like this would only mean that tabloids will pick up on it soon, which would lead to nothing but more rumors. 

You all but shove the phone back into Hanbin’s waiting hands, groaning loudly. 

“The press is going to have a field day.”

“It was a simple interview,” Hanbin soothes. “There’s nothing for the press to pick up on. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You and Donghyun just have…chemistry.”

You can’t help but scoff in disbelief. “Chemistry? I fucking hate the guy.”

“No you don’t. Everyone can tell that you don’t.”

Before you can protest, a single buzz of your phone calls your attention. You reach for it with baited breath, just knowing that it’s a family member waiting to chew you out for ruining their global image. Instead, a familiar name flashes on your screen, their text notification inspiring a fresh wave of nausea to overtake you. 

The whole world can see it, sweetheart. Why can’t you?

.          .         .

“Remember to be nice, Y/N,” Hanbin beams, snapping you out of your daydream. “Your parents want you to mingle as much as possible.”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself the same way you do for every public appearance. This is no different, the annual United Nations Gala having been the same every time you attended. You arrive separately from your parents, who must walk the red carpet of the gala before settling in. You, on the other hand, are lucky enough to go through the back, settling into the venue with the other family members of global leaders. 

You already know who will be there, and plan to keep to yourself despite Hanbin’s advice to mingle. Well, you’ll keep to yourself unless a certain someone has other plans; he always seems to.

No matter how much you had prepared yourself to see Donghyun, his beauty still takes you by surprise. He looks dashing in his all black suit, perfectly tailored to showcase the breadth of his shoulders and the length of his legs. It’s not too different from his interview outfit earlier in the week, but it stuns you all the same. 

What is different, though, is the small smile he shoots you when he catches your gaze. It’s far from the annoyingly cocky smirk that you’re used to, or his diplomatic grin that is constantly plastered over every news outlet. His smile almost seems sheepish, as if he is revealing an embarrassing secret simply by letting the corners of his lips turn up. His rosy cheeks add to his shy and childish demeanor, which you instantly blame on the abundance of alcohol at the event. 

You shake your head slightly, as if to physically shake the sight of him out of your head. The only thing you are able to do is turn the opposite way, scrambling towards the nearest table. You shove any thoughts of Kim Donghyun to the back of your mind as you prepare yourself for an excruciatingly long night. 

It ends up feeling even longer than you expected. Every so often, you found your thoughts drifting back to Donghyun, back to the deep drawl of his voice or the plush pink of his bottom lip. You banished those thoughts to the back of your mind and forced yourself to pay attention as some foreign diplomat would go on and on about the humanitarian efforts in their country. Then you’d find yourself drifting, Donghyun seeping into your mind and clouding it with a thick fog. 

It was a cycle, on and on until eventually the closing remarks were made. You sigh in relief as the program finally comes to a close, thankful for the opportunity to go home and get out of your stuffy attire. Just as you search the crowd for Hanbin, ready to begin your journey home, someone grabs your wrist, pulling you back ever so slightly. 

“Not so fast,” a familiar voice calls, their hand spinning you so that you stand nose to nose. “I can’t just let you disappear on me.”

“I’m trying to go home, Donghyun.”

The man lets out a chuckle, as if endeared by your efforts. “No you’re not. You’re coming with me to Keita’s after party.”

“And why would I do that?”

The man finally releases your wrist, choosing to take a step further into your space. You’re suddenly cognizant of all the potential eyes on you. Not only are the press here, putting you in jeopardy of being plastered on the front page of every tabloid, but you’re surrounded by the world’s elite. People talk and rumors travel. The last thing you would want is to bring any sort of bad attention to your family. 

“Because you want to,” Donghyun whispers, uncaring about the hundreds of people around you. “Because I want you to.”

“That’s all you want?”

Donghyun chuckles darkly. “Oh sweetheart, that doesn’t even scratch the surface of what I want. So, you coming? My driver is out front.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hanbin lingering by the door. It should be so easy to say no and go home with your aid. It should be easy to brush Donghyun off and go about your night. But something swims in your stomach at your thought. In the end, you sigh, rolling your eyes before leveling Donghyun with a look. 

“Fine. Lead the way.”

It ends up being much harder to feign disinterest in the confines of Donghyun’s car. There’s a partition up, separating you and Donghyun from the driver, providing you an unexpected amount of intimacy. You would think it’s a little presumptuous, if not for the way that Donghyun remains perfectly polite throughout the ride. 

You’re expecting some fiery banter or obnoxious teasing, but Donghyun makes simple small talk as you ride through the hustle and bustle of the city. It’s almost as if the boy is being nice. You two have never even begun to venture into nice territory, leaving you at a loss for how to respond. You find yourself craving your normal dynamic of push and pull for the entire time, up until you reach your destination. 

Keita’s after party looks like every after party you’ve ever attended, not quite anything special, from the people, to the drugs, to the music. It’s all so cookie cutter. The only thing that is new, however, is how Donghyun keeps you close to his side the entire night. 

His hand remains firmly wrapped around your waist as you navigate the party, only releasing you to pour the occasional drink. It’s impossible to ignore the way people look at you, eyes trained on your permanent point of contact as they shoot you knowing smiles. It leaves heat flooding your cheeks the entire night, face stained with a permanent flush that only gets worse as you knock back drinks.

The worst part is that you don’t even hate it. You find it all too easy to melt into Donghyun’s embrace as you chat idly with a few acquaintances. Exchanging soft smiles when he whispers a snarky comment into your ear feels like second nature. As right as it feels, you can’t fight the swirl of conflict bubbling in your core. Whether it’s from the alcohol, or the man by your side, it reminds you just how wrong this should be.

Just hours ago, you were worried about the optics of even speaking to Donghyun. Now, however, you can’t seem to care about the fact that you look like a proper couple, which is all but forbidden in your world. It isn’t until later in the night, when the party is dying down, that you begin to wonder where this all started.

“Donghyun,” you whisper, “what are we doing?”

His soft hum rumbles through his body into yours. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what is all of this?” You motion to where his hand is poised firmly on your hip, unmoving as you both lean onto an adjacent wall. “You haven’t stopped touching me since we got here.”

“Do you not want me to? I can back off…” he trails off, slowly removing any point of contact. 

Before he can get far, though, you find yourself reaching out, catching his wrist in a firm grip. It feels like second nature as you guide him back to the curve of your waist, shivering when you feel the heat of his palm through the fabric of your dress. 

“No, that’s not—,” you take a deep breath. “Just, why?”

Donghyun seems conflicted for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut as he sighs. When he opens them, his grip on your waist tightens. With a swift tug, you stumble forward, only to stabilize yourself with your palms on his chest. The movement brings you nose to nose, the newfound closeness forcing you to go a little cross-eyed to maintain eye contact. 

“Because, fuck, if you won’t admit it,” Donghyun swallows, his throat bobbing enticingly, “I will.”

“What?”

Donghyun’s voice comes out strained, borderline painful as he speaks. “I want you so bad. I haven’t ever wanted anyone as bad as I want you. Fuck, sweetheart, I have for years. And I know you think this is the alcohol talking, but I promise it’s not. Every time I see you and get to mess with you and you flirt back it’s like god. Everything about you is just so amazing and sexy and—,”

Donghyun’s lips remain frozen for a second as you blanket them with yours. It takes a beat, two, three, before his brain resets enough to realize that you’re kissing him. Because you’re kissing him. Kim Donghyun, the man that you hate. You’re kissing him. 

You only part a few centimeters, leaving only enough space between your bodies for your mingling breaths. 

“I want you, too,” you whisper, voice thick with nerves. “There. I admitted it.”

.         .         .

The second ride in Donghyun’s car is much less polite than the first. Instead of side by side, you sit straddling the man’s lap, dress hiked up dangerously high. The only seat belt you have is Donghyun’s hands, one firmly grasping at your ass while the other tilts your jaw downwards. Never had you been more grateful for a partition. 

Kissing Donghyun is nothing like what you imagined it would be. Instead of the calm, gentle side that he likes to display to the public, this Donghyun is demanding. He licks into your mouth filthily, using his overwhelming strength to keep you exactly where he wants you. He parts every so often to bite into your plush bottom lip, smirking at the soft moans that leave your mouth every time. His kisses are demanding, taking everything he wants from you while giving you everything in return. 

It’s only when his kisses trail down to the side of your jaw and neck that they grow more gentle, his plush lips teasing as they ghost over unmarked skin. You’re almost tempted to beg for a mark, to beg for longer lasting proof that this is real. 

Donghyun wants you. Donghyun has you. 

It’s his hands that dig into the meat of your thighs, grip strong and possessive. It’s his hips that roll up to meet yours in a stunted grind, the rhythm thrown off by the car hitting an occasional pothole. It’s his lips on yours. It’s his blonde strands that remain carded through your fingers. 

You have him. You want him. 

And for once, you have no problem admitting it. 

.FIN.

[lionhanie]

boynextdoor playing minecraft! (ot6 hc)

what happens when boynextdoor starts a minecraft server?

word count: 1.2k i think

genre + warnings: crack LOL, cursing, written in lowercase, typos

a/n: this is so stupid LMAO. (i was playing mc earlier whos gonna match my freak)

reblogs ↺ + feedback always appreciated!

featuring… sungho as numberonecatdad! riwoo as LeeSanghyeok! (he didn’t know he was making his username when he made the account. literal full government name out there)  jaehyun as myungj4e! taesan as GiantMountain! leehan as 212121_! woonhak as xxBlockBeastxx2006! (he made it in 4th grade. says he keeps the name for the nostalgia he doesnt know how to change it)  

→ Join Server?

☆ sungho: the builder

i feel like sungho wouldn’t really be interested in playing mc “seriously” but BOYYYY get him into creative and he’s locking the hell in. ik he does NOT play when it comes to building The Ultimate Spruce Wood Base

he got sick of seeing jaehyun build dirt huts as shelter in their worlds so he took on the role of being the MAIN BUILDER… main vocal? yeah. main builder is his TRUE calling. but i genuinely think he’d be good at it LOL his attention to detail is insane

making entire mansions in survival except he doesn’t even collect the blocks himself. he just waits til people come home with them and he steals them for his builds

In the chat… numberonecatdad: who made this farm by my house 212121_: me and riwoo 212121_: y???? numberonecatdad: … LeeSanghyeok: wjats wrong with it :( numberonecatdad: it’s … so bad LeeSanghyeok: it took us 2 hrs to make btw 212121_: okay but it works numberonecatdad: HALF THE CROPS ARE TRAMPLED numberonecatdad: stay away. leave this to me

the next day its a full fledged farm. windmill in the background. beautiful fields of potatoes and wheat surrounded by a pretty fence. flowers adorning the whole thing. true masterpiece 

☆ riwoo: the noob

i think he’s not really the type to play games like mc. like give him tiny tower or something and he’s at like 400 floors.. neko atsume? he got all the cats unlocked. but MINECRAFT? idk i feel like he’s just 🙂 when he plays bc he has no idea what’s going on

everyone will be off adventuring on their own.. minding their business.. and then there's a death message in the chat saying riwoo died to something so incredibly random. everyone is just like ??? bc wdym you died to a berry bush

the members think its so cute how he’s just… there for the ride! but they can’t help but mess around with riwoo because he is truly lost  & blindly trusts everything they tell him bc he doesn’t know any better

In the chat… 212121_: riwoo stand right there LeeSanghyeok: why 212121_: ima show u a cool easter egg LeeSanghyeok: okie ^_^ LeeSanghyeok was squashed by a falling anvil. LeeSanghyeok: wat was the easter egg LeeSanghyeok: i dont get it xxBlockBeastxx2006: LKSJKJFHKJSnfd;sf GiantMountain: oh riwoo GiantMountain: if u left click u can pet the bees and they heal u LeeSanghyeok: rlly? thats cool i wanna try myungj4e: DONT DO IT LeeSanghyeok was stung to death. numberonecatdad: leave that poor boy ALONE

after that, riwoo learns to be cautious of the maknae line.... he just stays with sungho collecting flowers for his builds or lighting up the caves jaehyun explores and running from the mobs :,)

☆ jaehyun: the miner

jaehyun is definitely the type to go straight to mining when you start up a new world. the second everyone sees "myungj4e has just earned the achievement [Acquire Hardware]" they KNOW he's clocking into his full time job in the mines bye

it’s 30 mins in and he has half a set of diamond armor to his name and they’re like ?? bro we just started can you be fr rn… if any of the members ask for materials he won’t do it unless he’s getting something out of it (don’t tell anyone but he made riwoo a set of diamond tools when everyone is still using iron 😍 true romance i think)

lowkey everyone is convinced he has x-ray installed or something bc of how good he is at mining

In the chat… numberonecatdad: can i get three diamonds for a new pickaxe myungj4e: lmao NO  myungj4e: wat do i get in return numberonecatdad: how do you live in a dirt shack and have diamond armor GiantMountain: embarrassing.... myungj4e: okay making fun of the less fortunate now??? numberonecatdad: ill build u a house if u give me diamonds myungj4e: k fine  xxBlockBeastxx2006: OH BUT WHEN I ASK FOR DIAMONDS I DONT GET ANY

at the end of the day tho... he's lowkey a blessing bc if he's feeling nice enough he will hook u up with ANYTHING u need. the boys are spoiled w the way jae's chests are FULL of iron whenever they need it

☆ taesan: the fighter

unironically i think taesan would just be . oddly good at pvp. it’s like one of his random talents LOOOL "good at mc pvp" on his resume LOUD AND PROUD

like you load up into bedwars or something and he’s wiping out teams before you can even get yourself a proper set of armor. its lowkey attractive idk

in your survival world, he’s always instigating fights with the other members in hopes that they’ll want to fight. literally no one can kill him. he can probably 1v5 and still win

In the chat... myungj4e: WHO TOOK THE DIAMONDS FROM MY CHEST WHILE I WAS OFFLINE LeeSanghyeok: it was taesan GiantMountain: …what are u gonna do about it bro. huh. they’re mine now.  myungj4e: bro that was like a full stack. it took me like 3 hours to get them. where the hell are you  GiantMountain: why? you wanna fight for it? GiantMountain: whoever wins keeps the diamonds xxBlockBeastxx2006: oh ur cooked hyung myungj4e: OK DEAL myungj4e was slain by GiantMountain using Diamond Sword.

the way u can hear jaehyun RAGE through the dorm walls brings a smile to taesan's face bc he KNOWS he stays undefeated when it comes to pvp

☆ leehan: the troll

i think he’s similar to riwoo in the sense that he doesn’t rlly know whats going on but once they start their server you know DAMN well he’s looking up Top 15 BEST Ways To ANNOY Your FRIENDS in Minecraft! on youtube.,.. fucking loser (hearts in my eyes as i write this)

they’re usually harmless ones, like filling up jaehyun's chests with junk or renaming sungho's cat to something stupid like “Poopy Fart” or moving all of woonhak's cows from their pen

but ohh… if you piss him awf BADDD i think he would do some DIABOLICAL damage to the world. like imagine taesan is Also Trolling and he kills leehan before taking all of his stuff and running away into the distance. things would be quiet… too quiet…. until next thing u kno theres a whole trap waiting for taesan the second he walks into his house 

In the chat… 212121_: taesan do u still have my fishing rod GiantMountain: ye lol 212121_: can i have it back GiantMountain: LMAO GiantMountain: no 212121_: i think theres a creeper in ur house  GiantMountain: WHAT  GiantMountain was killed by magic while trying to escape 212121_.  numberonecatdad: LOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLL GiantMountain: when the hell did you set that up 212121_: >:)

OKAY YES he spent 46 minutes following a tutorial on how to set up a death chamber full of the WORST potion effects ever ... but it worked so he's sitting at his monitor feelijng like an evil mastermind

☆ woonhak: the sweat

he is like the only one i imagined actually PLAYED minecraft growing up. he unironically enjoys watching minecraft streams too LMAO much like jaehyun, i think woonhak goes straight to mining in survival. except rather than /just/ mining, he’s literally trying to beat the game 

he's usually off on his own doing something but ngl .. i bet he's a backseat gamer when he see's someone doing smth wrong. let's say he's out exploring w riwoo and he's falling SO FAR BEHIND he doesn't know how to sprint he will literally walk into his room to show him how to run

bro probably watched Ender Dragon Speedruns growing up idk i feel like he’s determined to beat the world record (he won’t, but he will definitely try) 

In the chat... xxBlockBeastxx2006 has just earned the achievement [The End?] numberonecatdad: ? 212121_: ?? 212121_: is that what i think it is myungj4e: ../?//???? ?  ??? LeeSanghyeok: wat is that LeeSanghyeok: whys the achievement purple GiantMountain: r u fr rn 212121z: LMAO tryhard alert... xxBlockBeastxx2006: yooo chill we can always respawn it dw myungj4e: HOW DARE U KILL THE ENDERDRAGON WITHOUT US myungj4e: UR FAKE AS HELL xxBlockBeastxx2006 has been banned from the server by myungj4e

woonhak doesn't talk to jaehyun for the rest of the night (he's unbanned the next day, but they force him to restart so he isn't absolutely STACKED)

taglist: @onedoornet @dongminz (ty saki for supporting me with my bonedo mc thoughts LMFAO) @gluion @icyminghao

© lionhanie 2024 ; all rights reserved!

[saturnhani-deactivated20260405]

saturn.

content: leehan x gender neutral reader. word count: 695 words naia's notes: hello... this is incredibly nerve wracking for some reason and I apologise if it's not great, this is just a little stream of consciousness I wrote when I was just feeling ... so much love for Leehan... it's short, but I hope it's good enough ><!!

Everyday feels the same. You wake up at 6:30 in the morning, willing yourself to get out of bed. To clean yourself up, to get dressed. To eat something just so you don’t pass out halfway through the day. To go to work. Everything feels the same. 

The sound of dead leaves crunching under the soles of your shoes as you walk your usual route has become white noise to you. You used to step around the piles of dead leaves that accumulated by the sidewalk, but now you just plunge your feet right into them, left after right, right after left. The beeping of bus cards being tapped in and out, people alighting and boarding the bus. The sound of the bus’ bell at every stop. Everything feels the same. 

What a moral, emotional dilemma it is. You’re not unhappy. You have a well paying job, a roof over your head, the means to splurge on yourself every now and then. You’re not unhappy. You’re just … bored. Everything feels the same, everyday feels the same.

Well… maybe not everything. 

“Darling,” Leehan’s voice, low and deep, familiar and warm, breaks you out of your bored daze. You can hear the smile in his tone of voice before you see it. The mental image of the way his eyes crinkle at the sides, his boxy smile making his whole face beam ⎯ it’s enough to pull a smile of your own as well. 

Your steps become lighter as you cross the road, like you’re physically stepping into a brighter, happier place. How could you not feel this way, when Leehan looks at you so gently and warmly, like you’re the most delicate lotus blooming in the dull, mundane waters. You meet him with a smile, your earlier exhaustion melting away the moment he wraps you in his arms, cocooning you in warmth and love. “Missed you, Hanie,” you mumble, wrapping your own arms around his neck. You hear and feel him chuckle, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly against yours. 

“You saw me yesterday, love,” he quips softly as he pulls away, letting his hand drop from the small of your back to your hand, lacing your fingers together. You look up at him with an incredulous giggle. You wonder if Leehan would ever understand your heart ⎯ and the way that it seems to beat just for him. 

“I know, I know… I just… you recharge me,” you tighten your grip on his hand, feeling his pulse thumping softly against yours from between your intertwined fingers. The taller boy seems to light up at your words, clearly enthused by how fondly you think of him. “You recharge me too, darling,” he smiles at you, and you feel like a star itself had dropped from the sky, kissing you so gently on the nose. 

Maybe Leehan would never understand it ⎯ your small heart, and the immense love it carries for him. But as you walk hand in hand, the weight of your shoes crunching so satisfyingly into the dead leaves piled up on the sidewalk, you think that it’s alright if he doesn’t. After all, how could you ever put it into words ⎯ the way he lights up your world, like a soothing balm to all the mundane routines and cycles you go through daily. 

Leehan animatedly tells you about some new decor he put in his fish tank, his hands moving in tandem with every particularly excitable detail of his story. You could never put it into words, how much you love this boy ⎯ even with how bleak and boring some days feel, you know that none of it matters when you’re with him. The sound of your alarm every morning, the dead leaves, the incessant beeping on the morning bus ride. All of it just melts away, with every boisterous laugh that leaves his plump lips, every kiss that he plants so lovingly on your knuckles. Everything feels the same, sometimes; other times, Leehan is there, in all his odd, shining glory, and you think that maybe, the bleak, boring days are worth going through if it means having bright, sparkling moments like this with him. 

[riizegasm]

Space & Time || P. SH

❀ pairing: roommate!sungho x implied fem!reader

❀ genre: roommates to lovers, college!au, fluff, minor angst

❀ word count: ~6.1k

❀ warnings: explicit language, minor jealousy, literally one implication of queer!sungho

❀ summary: The space that you share with Park Sungho sometimes feels a little too small. In time, the closeness proves to grow into something neither of you can contain. But hey, that's the case for all roommates...right?

❀ a/n: Once again, my writer's block went craaaazy for this piece. I spent so long hating it, but now I actually really love it! I feel like the style is a little different from what I usually do, so I hope you enjoy. As always, likes, reblogs, and replies are encouraged!

masterlist

Truthfully, Park Sungho is the perfect roommate. It doesn’t matter that sometimes he sings a little too loud in the shower because at least his voice is melodious. It doesn’t matter that sometimes he scolds you for leaving a dirty dish out because he laughs with you equally as much. It doesn’t matter that he frequently has his friends over, because they are always polite and include you in every outing. 

Park Sungho is perfect, almost a little too perfect. 

You first start to realize after coming home one night, two years into living together. Your feet are aching from your nice heels and your ears are ringing from the car horns on the street. It’s enough to have you entering your apartment with a sigh, kicking off your heels the minute you can see your welcome mat. 

“You’re home early,” Sungho says as you round the corner, standing up to greet you in that overly respectful manner of his. “How was it?”

The question instantly has tears springing to your eyes, stinging your corneas as if they were poisonous. Sungho is clearly panicked by your change in demeanor, flailing slightly as he approaches. His coos and attempts to shush you just make your tears turn into sobs, throwing your head back as you finally let all of your pent up emotions out. 

“It was horrible,” you hiccup. 

For a moment, Sungho flails once again. But then you’re encased by strong arms, a hand on the back of your head guiding you to lean into an overly wide shoulder. He smells faintly of clean laundry and sea salt, the latter due to the undertone in the cologne he constantly wears. A large hand smooths down the expanse of your exposed back, palms cool against the heat of your skin. You let your tears flow into the cotton of his shirt, feeling comfortable for the first time all night. 

“Come on, let’s sit down.”

Sungho doesn’t let go as the two of you move, waddling your way through your shared apartment. Instead of pulling you down to sit next to him, Sungho gathers you so that you’re seated straddling his lap, face still tucked into his shoulder. It’s an intimate position, far too intimate for mere roommates, but you’re too distracted by your sobs and the feeling of Sungho’s cool hands on your back to care. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sungho coos, voice melodious and overly soft. 

You just shake your head, not trusting your voice. It was simple, actually, why your date went so horribly. One ill-timed glance at his phone revealed a slew of texts from someone saved under the name “wifey.” The man then proceeded to point out all of your insecurities, no doubt comparing you to whoever that contact was. He ended up taking a “work call”, leaving the date early and making you responsible for the hefty bill. 

“That’s fine,” Sungho soothes. “He doesn’t deserve you, anyways. You are such a catch and he doesn’t even know what he’s missing.”

You sniffle slightly, finally moving from your position buried in Sungho’s shoulder. He smiles when the two of you make eye contact, using his thumb to wipe a few stray tears from your cheeks. You’re sure that you look a mess, face ruddy with your makeup in various states of disarray. But the way Sungho is smiling at you makes you feel like the most beautiful person in the world. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my roommate,” you whisper. 

“I’m saying it because it’s true.”

A moment of silence lingers in the small space between the two of you, with the occasional hiccup interrupting your peace. Sungho’s gaze is too intense, peering into the depths of your eyes. For a moment, you find yourself getting lost in the eye contact, taking note of the deep hue of his irises. It’s only when you feel a slight fluttering in your chest that you snap out of it. 

“I’m going to go shower and get out of these clothes,” you say as you stand, mindful of the way your halter top shifts across your chest. “But maybe we can watch a movie after that?”

Sungho smiles softly. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

Something shifts between you and Sungho after that moment. 

It’s almost as if you’ve both unlocked a deeper level of comfort with each other, making physical contact in ways that you never had before. You spend your movie nights cuddling instead of sitting on opposite ends of the couch. You greet each other with hugs when either of you comes home, Sungho even going as far as to place a kiss on your cheek or forehead in friendly greeting. He’ll place a hand on your lower back as he passes by you in the kitchen, or squeeze your exposed thigh when the two of you are seated next to each other. 

You don’t think much of it, knowing that it’s nothing more than a few friendly touches between roommates. Sungho had seen you at a particularly vulnerable moment, and now seeks to comfort you. There’s nothing wrong with that! Roommates can hold hands in the grocery store and hug each other tightly after a long day. 

It’s how you find yourself snuggled up to Sungho’s side during a movie night, head leaning on his shoulder. It’s one of the few times that the two of you aren’t alone, surrounded by some of Sungho’s closest friends that you equally adore. They sit in various places strewn around the living room, leaving you and Sungho seated alone on the loveseat in the corner. 

About halfway through the movie, Woonhak complains about being hungry, causing a heated debate to erupt about what snacks everyone wanted. Through the commotion, you feel a set of sharp eyes on you. When you look to the side, you find Sanghyuk’s gaze trained on the points where you and Sungho are connected. It’s a simply observational gaze, his eyes holding no hint of judgment as he regards you. But, the intensity of his gaze makes your skin crawl. 

Under Sanghyuk’s scrutiny, you begin to peel yourself away from Sungho’s side. But before you can get far, a hand guides your head to lean back onto his shoulder. A quick glance upwards reveals that Sungho is still in the heated snack debate, not having blinked an eye at your movement. It’s almost as if he moved reflexively, not even having to think about drawing you closer. 

When you look back at Sanghyuk, the boy is smirking, simply rolling his eyes before he looks away. You try your best to fight the heat that is beginning to rise to your cheeks, to no avail. 

At some point between a new round of popcorn being distributed, and everyone settling back into their seats, you fall asleep. You have no idea how much time has passed as a soft hand shakes you awake. An ache overtakes your neck muscles as you straighten up, pulling back to see Sungho smiling down at you. A quick scan of the room reveals that it’s empty save for the two of you, causing you to cock an eyebrow in confusion. 

“Where’s everyone else?” You slur out, voice thick from sleep. 

“They left. It’s almost midnight, pumpkin.”

Pumpkin, that’s new. Your sleep addled brain doesn’t have the capacity to question it, simply nodding in understanding. 

“You should go to bed,” Sungho whispers, tucking a stray piece of hair away from your face. 

You nod, still not moving from your position on the couch. As your eyes flutter closed once again, you hear a soft chuckle. It’s enough to startle you back awake, not surprised to see a shy smile painting Sungho’s face. It’s impossible to not note how handsome he looks at the moment, long hair in disarray from leaning back on the couch and clad in a large sweatshirt. You imagine that he would be much cozier than your bed, but your mouth can’t quite part to form those syllables. 

“Come on,” Sungho says softly, dragging you up from the couch by the arm. “Let’s get you to bed.”

.         .         .

At some point, it becomes strange to not be greeted by Sungho the minute you enter your shared apartment, especially since you both have shared your schedules with each other. The man should be home, but your persistent calls of his name are met with nothing but silence as you toe off your shoes. Venturing further into the apartment still reveals no signs of life, a truly odd sight. 

You round a corner to step into the small hallway that leads deeper into the space, only to collide directly with a solid expanse of skin. A strong arm reaches out to steady you as you stumble backwards, keeping you firmly upright. Sungho’s eyes are wide when you meet his gaze, clearly flustered by your sudden appearance. 

“Shit, are you okay?”

You are unable to respond, too engrossed in scanning the view in front of you. Sungho’s entire torso is exposed, the man clearly having forgone a shirt. Wide shoulders taper into an impossibly small waist, leaving you swallowing thickly as you note the pair of basketball shorts hanging low on his hips. It’s clear that he has just showered, hair still dripping down onto his torso in clear rivulets. You find yourself watching as one slides down a firm pectoral, making a trail in one of the multiple divets in his abdomen, until it’s finally absorbed by the fabric of his shorts. 

You shake your head a bit, trying to snap out of it. It doesn’t help that Sungho is still grasping your upper arm, the strength in his hand obvious despite the gentle hold. Suddenly, your mouth feels arid, as if a sandy sediment has coated its surface and sucked up all of the moisture. You imagine that Sungho’s body is coated in enough water to quench your thirst. 

…wait…what??

“I’m fine,” you rush out, clearing your throat of its obvious thickness. “Sorry for bumping into you.”

Sungho just smiles softly, finally releasing his grip on your arm. “It’s all good. I felt bad that I wasn’t around when you got back. I thought I timed my shower well.”

“Don’t worry about it. Are you going somewhere?”

A slight flush rises to Sungho’s cheeks, the man ducking his head slightly. His hand comes up to scratch the back of his neck, allowing a few residual drops to fall from his hair. It’s odd to see Sungho be anything other than confident and bold, the sudden change catching you firmly off guard. 

“Yeah, I’m actually going to go hang out with this girl Daeun. She’s in my astronomy class so we’re going to the observatory a few towns over to do some constellation research.”

“Oh! That sounds…” surprisingly romantic… “Nice. That sounds really nice.”

Sungho chuckles, a sheepish smile taking over his face. “Yeah, I’m excited. Oh, let me finish getting ready! I might come to you for outfit advice, if that’s okay.”

You nod slowly, plastering a smile on your face. “Of course it is.”

Your chest feels tight as Sungho retreats, disappearing into his bedroom. As much as you try and ignore it, it continues to encompass you as you busy yourself with the latest episode of your favorite reality tv show. The pain doesn’t subside even as you try and immerse yourself in the latest drama. Instead, your face begins to heat and your palms begin to itch, almost as if craving to dig into something. Into what, you can’t quite determine, but you imagine it feels like milky smooth skin pulled taut over firm muscle. 

“How do I look?” Sungho asks with a little turn when he emerges from his room. 

Once again, you find yourself scanning his figure, taking in the way his jeans make his legs look impossibly long and how his shirt highlights the broadness of his shoulders. When the two of you first met, you used to joke about how Sungho needed to abandon his university endeavors to become a model. Times like now make it feel a little too real to be a joke. 

“Great,” you answer softly, ignoring the way your face burns. “You look great.”

Sungho looks absolutely giddy as he approaches the couch, leaning over to place a soft kiss on your forehead. The close proximity allows you to smell all the notes of his cologne, a scent that you have gotten used to transferring onto your clothes after every tight hug and cuddle session. The tightness in your chest returns, but this time it burns. 

“Thanks, pumpkin. I’ll be home late, so don’t wait up.”

Despite the man’s warning, you can’t find it in yourself to fall asleep. Instead, you remain awake in your bed, tossing and turning every few moments. Eventually, your body tires out, allowing you to slowly drift into slumber. If you dream of the mellow scent of sea salt and water droplets sliding across skin, that’s no one’s business but your own. 

.          .          .

The two of you part with a hug, Sungho gently pecking your forehead before heading off to his own class. You can’t fight the soft smile gracing your face as you approach your own building, your friend waiting for you near the entrance. 

Minji looks thoroughly perplexed as you approach, eyebrows drawn together in clear confusion. “Was that your boyfriend?”

The question makes you choke on your iced coffee, beginning to double over as a fit of coughs wrack your body. Minji doesn’t even flinch at your dilemma, still staring at the spot where you and Sungho had previously stood. 

“Holy shit, no!” You exclaim through a slew of coughs. “He’s just my roommate.”

The two of you move to enter the building, but Minji’s confused gaze remains firmly locked on you. 

“You’re joking, right?”

“What? No!” You emphasize as you slide into your seat. “Sungho is really just my roommate.”

“Then why do you guys do…,” Minji makes a vague gesture with her hands, “that?”

“You mean hug?”

“And kiss!” Minji’s voice drops to a whisper as the professor announces the start of his lecture. “I mean, if I had anyone treating me like that, I would definitely think we’re dating.”

You roll your eyes. “We are not dating!”

Minji just looks you up and down, lips curling into a soft smirk. “Does he know that?”

Any retort you have dies instantly in your throat. He does know that. You and Sungho have never been anything other than roommates, close roommates, but roommates nonetheless. The friendship that you have developed via sharing a space will always be nothing more than just that. Besides, he’s clearly seeing that girl Daeun from astronomy, right?

The amalgamation of thoughts about your non-relationship with Sungho distracts you throughout your entire lecture. Before you know it, your professor is dismissing you and you frown at your notebook, empty save for the date scribbled in the top right corner. You bid Minji a goodbye, reminding yourself to text her later for the notes. 

As you exit the lecture hall, a familiar figure makes you stop in your tracks. Sungho’s silhouette is bathed golden by the mid afternoon sun, giving him a cherubian glow. His head is tilted back in laughter, hand covering his mouth. It’s not uncommon to see Sungho lost in laughter, but you wonder who could have him so giddy this time, especially since Jaehyun is nowhere to be seen. 

And that’s when you see her. 

She’s pretty, unbelievably so. Long dark hair cascades past her shoulders, falling down to her trim waist. Her rounded eyes are emphasized by the slight shimmer of gold eyeshadow, full cheeks painted delicately with blush. Her smile is powerful, rivaling the sunshine that covers the green. The worst part is that she looks so good next to Sungho, as if they were a proper couple. So this is the Daeun that Sungho took to go see the stars. 

A hot feeling blooms in your chest, forcing you to avert your eyes. It makes sense, of course, that Daeun would be gorgeous and Sungho would be smitten with her. It’s only right that Sungho would have a partner equally as amazing as he is. 

So why aren’t you happy for him? Why does your chest burn and why do your eyes sting? Why is there a lump in your throat that feels excruciatingly painful to swallow down? Why are your palms growing clammy despite the early springtime breeze cooling you to your core?

You push your spiral of thoughts to the side, letting your legs carry you away from the green as fast as possible. It’s impossible to focus on where you’re going, letting your body move on autopilot. It’s only when a familiar warmth and the smell of pastries overcome you that you exhale for the first time in what feels like forever. You breathe in the smell of freshly brewed coffee and exhale with a smile. 

“Y/N?” A voice calls from the register. “What are you doing here?”

You’ve always mentioned that Donghyun looks particularly cute in his work attire. His hair is kept back off his face with a visor, the brim of which is shaped like a fishtail. His aquamarine apron is tied tight around his waist, covered in stains from the busy shift he likely had. Even the glittery name tag pinned to his apron suits him, matching the overeager sparkle in his eye. 

“I just wanted to stop by for some coffee.”

Donghyun cocks an eyebrow at you before scanning the practically empty cafe. “It’s 4pm.”

“I know, but I just need a pick-me-up.”

There’s another moment of silence as Donghyun regards you. With the minimum chatter from cafe-goers, the silence almost feels awkward, Donghyun clearly pondering something before he chooses to reply. After a moment, he simply shrugs. 

“Alright, but I’m giving you half-caf! I honestly don’t feel like brewing an entire new pot of regular.”

In mere minutes, you’re sitting alone at a table by the window, a steaming mug warming your fingers. You choose to ignore the concerned glances that Donghyun shoots you from behind the coffee bar. He would probably ask about what’s bothering you, since you’re sure your crisis is painted all over your face. But that’s the exact problem—you have no idea what your crisis is. 

So what if Sungho has a new girl that he’s been seeing? It’s not like that affects you in any way. If anything, it’s expected, with his round eyes and overly caring nature. You’re sure most people 

would swoon at the mellow tone of his voice or at how quick he is to laugh at a joke. No one is immune to falling for the way he’s hyper-attentive as he listens or the way he squeezes a tad bit harder right before he’s about to release someone from a hug. 

So you’re not surprised at all that someone has fallen for Sungho, especially someone so pretty. It’s expected. So why does it hurt?

Once again, you force the question out of your mind, letting out a groan as you lean your head into your hands. The steam rising from the mug begins to heat your cheeks as you stare into it, warming you up in a way that you didn’t know you needed. Despite the burn in your chest and your clammy hands, it feels like the rest of your body is frozen over, forced to malfunction at the thought of Sungho and his new lover. 

Oh shit. You’re jealous. 

Your stomach twists and turns at the newfound revelation. It makes sense, of course, that you would fall for Sungho just like everyone else. He’s the epitome of a perfect gentleman. And with the constant touches, it’s hard not to crave that little something more. What would those ever so soft lips feel like against your own instead of your forehead or cheek?

But he has made it clear where he stands. Sungho is your roommate, no matter how much you crave for him to be more. He has Daeun. He chose Daeun. It should be easy to accept, but the swirling feeling in your gut says otherwise. 

You don’t know how long you spend in the cafe, letting time pass aimlessly as you remain lost in your thoughts. It’s only when your phone vibrates with a text that you are snapped back into reality. You don’t even have to look at it to know who it is, likely wondering about your whereabouts. After all, you’re usually home by this time, freshly showered and cuddled up with him as you chat over takeout. 

With another groan, you grab your stuff, taking your time to collect your belongings and shoot Donghyun an appreciative smile. He nods in return, shooting you a thumbs up that you’re sure is supposed to be a wish of good luck. 

He doesn’t even know how much you’ll need it. 

.         .         .

Meeting Daeun is even more tortuous than seeing her from afar. She’s even prettier up close, with a blinding smile and fluttering eyelashes. However, her beauty isn’t what strikes you the most. It’s how she’s hugging Sungho in the middle of your doorway that leaves you shocked. 

She’s clearly just saying goodbye, Sungho trapping her in one of his notorious hugs before she leaves. The sight has you frozen in place nonetheless, the grocery bag you were carrying now hanging lower in your slackened grip. Sungho seems to sense your presence as the two release from their hug, eyes lighting up as he sees you standing beyond the doorway. 

“Y/N! I didn’t know you’d be home so early,” he beams. “This is Daeun, my research partner.”

“Oh, this is Y/N?” The woman questions, shooting you a soft smile. “Nice to meet you.”

You force yourself to return the smile, although you’re sure yours comes out awkward with a hint of confusion. “You too.”

There’s a thick silence that ensues as Daeun regards the two of you. Her gaze flickers between you and Sungho a few times before she lets out a small chuckle, as if she knows something you don’t. At least you feel like you’re one step ahead of her, knowing that something’s going on between her and Sungho. You just didn’t quite expect to see it so clearly.

“Well I’m going to get going,” Daeun sings. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sungho. Nice to meet you again, Y/N.”

The woman disappears down the hallway with a little wave, ponytail swaying behind her with every step. The minute she’s out of sight, Sungho moves forward, relieving you of the grocery bag that is basically on the floor at this point. He holds the door as you take slow steps forward, finally forcing your body to enter the apartment. As you slide off your shoes, Sungho ruffles your hair before moving to unpack the groceries. 

“So,” you begin, sitting on the countertop next to where Sungho is fussing over the various fruits that you had bought. “She’s cute.”

Sungho shoots you a confused look. “I mean, I guess.”

“You guess? Isn’t she like your girlfriend or something? I feel like you should think she’s cute.”

“Woah,” Sungho chuckles. “Where did you get that from?”

“What?”

“That she’s my girlfriend? She’s literally just my partner for my research project.”

You shrug, trying not to oogle the breadth of Sungho’s shoulders as he leans down to place an egg carton in the fridge.

“I just thought you two were close. And you look kinda cute together,” you mumble, beginning to swing your legs where they hang over the edge of the counter. 

Sungho stares at you incredulously. “Ummm…okay, I guess. She’s not really my type, though.”

“Really?” You hate the way your voice comes out in a rush of excitement. “I mean, um, I’m surprised. Like I said, you two look cute together.”

In the blink of an eye, Sungho is standing before you, slowly making space for himself in the vee of your legs. His palm is warm as he places it on your knee, right on top of the rip in your jeans. The new proximity has you leaning back a bit, only to be stopped by the wall behind you. You find yourself going a little cross eyed at the closeness, trying your hardest to maintain eye contact. Sungho just smiles, squeezing your knee softly.

“I mean it,” he mumbles. “I already have my eye on someone else, pumpkin.”

It feels as if the distance between the both of you is getting smaller by the second, some sort of invisible pull bringing you closer. At the last minute, Sungho leans upward, letting his lips gently peck your forehead. The warm sensation on your skin lingers, even as Sungho pulls back to shoot you another smile. 

“Welcome home, by the way.”

The man then retreats as if nothing happened, going back to unpacking the groceries. You don’t dare move from your position, heart still hammering in your chest. It takes a moment before you are able to exhale, your breath coming out short and shaky. If it weren’t for the stability of the counter underneath you, you’re sure you would have fallen over. It makes you wonder if Sungho would’ve caught you if you had. 

“So, what do you want to do for dinner?” Sungho calls over his shoulder, shooting you a small smile. “I’m really in the mood for sushi.”

.         .         .

You impatiently rap your knuckles against the heavy door in front of you, shifting your weight from foot to foot. Never before had you felt this sense of urgency, limbs feeling jittery with every passing moment that you spend standing still. It’s enough anxiety to have you running a marathon, and even then, you swear you would still have some anxious energy left. However, the minute that a confused face opens the door, you feel a bit of the tension leave your body. 

“Y/N?”

You smile sheepishly. “Hi, Sanghyuk. I need your help.”

You’ve always found Sanghyuk and Jaehyun’s shared apartment to be extremely homely. The two of them have arrays of stuffed animals and trinkets in every corner of the home, along with an assortment of fuzzy blankets in every nook and cranny. It’s cozy and calm, especially with the way it’s never quite silent. Usually Jaehyun is the culprit, either joking and laughing loudly or playing some music to set the vibe. 

But even now, as it’s just you and Sanghyuk in the space, the cozy feeling is amplified. You’re wrapped up in one of his fleece Pokémon blankets, cocooning yourself in warmth. It’s quiet for a moment, Sanghyuk never pushing you to speak before you’re ready. After a few deep breaths, you finally feel ready to open up. 

“I think I like Sungho.”

You expect something to shift in the moment, maybe for Sanghyuk to squeal in surprise or for the world to stop turning for a bit. But it’s nothing like that. Instead, Sanghyuk just continues to look at you, a neutral expression coloring his face. 

“Okay,” he murmurs softly. “Tell me more.”

And you do. It’s easy to confide in Sanghyuk, with his soft smiles and solemn nods. He listens as you pour your heart out, explaining everything from the first bit of physical contact after your shitty date to meeting Daeun in the apartment. As every piece of the story comes out, you feel your chest begin to grow lighter. 

“And now I’m here because I don’t know what to do.”

Sanghyuk just hums, clearly pondering your words before he speaks. “Well, are you going to tell him?”

“I can’t!” You all but whine, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “He’s just going to pity me and reject me and then it’s going to be weird when we have to see each other all the time. I mean, we live together.”

“What makes you so sure that any of these things are going to happen?”

“I don’t know.”

Sanghyuk shrugs. “Exactly, you don’t know. So what’s the harm in trying?”

You can’t help but groan, head beginning to pound at the mere thought of telling him how you feel. “But what if he hates me?”

“And what if he loves you?” 

What if Sungho loves you?

It’s hard to imagine, but for a moment you get a glimpse of what that would be like. Forehead kisses would trail down to meet your lips instead of just stopping there. Cuddles and hugs could turn into more meaningful touches. A hand on the waist would be a show of belonging, not just a hint of guidance. The man that you want would finally be yours. 

“I’m scared, Sanghyuk.”

The man across from you sighs, beginning to pick at the corner of his own blanket. “I know, but you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

“And Daeun?”

“Has Sungho ever lied to you?” Sanghyuk cocks an eyebrow when you shake your head no. “Exactly. You have no reason to believe he isn’t telling you the truth.”

You know that he’s right, just like he always is. It’s just hard to ditch the niggling feeling in the back of your brain that there’s something you don’t know. The glint in Daeun’s eyes and the surprise in Sungho’s had to have meant something. It had to. 

“I know that, but I just need to hear it. Can you please be 100% honest with me?” You ask softly, eyes firmly fixed on Sanghyuk. 

“I always am.”

“Does Sungho have a thing for Daeun?”

Sanghyuk chuckles. “No. Like he said, he has his eye on someone else.”

The phrase bounces around your head the entire walk home. Someone else could be anyone. It could be another person in his research class or one of his gym companions. It could be that one really cute guy that works at Donghyun’s cafe. It could be anyone. It could be you. 

As you unlock your apartment door, you’re greeted with the familiar sight of Sungho wiping down the kitchen counters. It’s a little thing he does, constantly cleaning and tidying to the point that it’s almost motherly. But his habit is endearing, especially as he scrunches his nose while scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain. 

The minute he looks up, though, any trace of tension is gone from his face, melting into a soft smile. He’s quick to abandon the cloth he was using, approaching you with wide arms. The hug that he engulfs you in is all too tight, but you find it freeing rather than suffocating. However, the breath leaves your lungs when Sungho places a soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Welcome home, pumpkin,” he coos softly.

As you two part, you can’t help but stand frozen in place, a warm rush flooding your body. If Sungho notices, he doesn’t show it, choosing instead to go back to cleaning. Before you can stop it, the warmth travels upward, escaping your body before you can catch it. 

“I want you to mean it.”

The short phrase makes Sungho stop, turning back to you with a confused furrow in his brow. “Mean what?”

As much as you want to race to retract your words, Sanghyuk’s voice echoes in your mind. Someone else, you remind yourself. It could be you. You take a deep breath. 

“When you kiss me,” you explain, squeezing your eyes shut as embarrassment begins to color your cheeks. “I know it’s just on the forehead or cheek, but I want you to mean it.”

Sungho makes a confused little noise. “But I do mean it.”

“Not in the way that I want you to. Not in the way that I mean it.”

The silence that overcomes the room makes time tick by ever so slowly. What are mere seconds feel like hours as the two of you simply stand in the hallway, neither of you daring to say a word. Even though your eyes are closed, you can tell Sungho is shifting his weight back and forth, the motion making the floorboards creak slightly. 

“Y/N, I need to understand. How exactly do you want me to mean it?”

Somehow, the question gives you the energy to open your eyes, instantly sweeping them over Sungho’s form. The white tee shirt he wears is marred with splotches of water, likely from his earlier time cleaning. His hands are calloused as they run through his hair, grip permanently rough from spending too much time at the gym. There’s a bit of redness around his temples from what looks like the beginning of a blemish. He’s stunning like this. 

“I want you to like me the way I like you.”

Sungho’s confused expression deepens. “And what way is that?”

“Like more than a friend or roommate. I want you to like me romantically.”

The laugh that Sungho lets out comes as a surprise. It even surprises the man itself, it seems, based on the way he instantly covers his mouth with his hands. His eyes have grown wider in shock, gaze uncertain as it remains locked on you. But soon that all melts away, replaced with a subtle smirk. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just—who says I don’t already?”

The apartment seems to shrink around the two of you, compressing all of the air in the room. Even the hallway feels tighter, invisibly drawing you and Sungho closer together. It’s as if there was a shift in the space, in your space. 

“B-but, Daeun?” You manage to stutter out, trying to ignore the way that the walls are pressing in on you, forcing you closer to Sungho. 

It seems that your roommate is feeling similar effects, slowly stumbling towards you as well. 

“I told you,” he mumbles softly. “She’s just my research partner. I like someone else. Y/N, I like you.”

The apartment shrinks a little more.

“You do?”

Sungho nods, smiling sheepishly. “I have for like, two years now. I mean, I tried to show you! Why else would I be all over you like that?”

“Because you’re a touchy person?” You question, not sounding too convinced of yourself. 

“Because I like you, pumpkin.”

The space is finally completely compressed, you and Sungho now standing toe to toe. He feels so much broader like this, taking up his fair share of the newly tiny space. It’s dizzying to be pressed so close together, even though it’s far from the first time. Once again, you find that it’s freeing rather than suffocating.

“I thought you were just being a really good roommate.”

Sungho chuckles, the sound vibrating through both of your bodies. The closeness allows him to easily wrap an arm around your waist, his free hand tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He lets his hand trail downward, cupping your cheek. 

“I don’t think really good roommates would do this.”

As much as you have felt Sungho’s lips on your face, the feeling of him pressing a kiss to your mouth feels utterly foreign. His lips are made soft from his constant use of peach chapstick, rivaling your own soft pucker. The kiss is both just as quick and equally as gentle as his pecks to your forehead. When he pulls away, you can’t stop the small whine that escapes you. 

Your eyes flutter open, trying to tamp down the immediate feeling of embarrassment that floods your core. You don’t seem to be the only one, though, with Sungho’s cheeks taking on their own rosy hue. For a moment, the two of you are silent, letting the apartment around you expand and contract with every breath you take. 

“Sungho,” you whisper. 

It’s all it takes for Sungho to instantly reconnect his lips to yours, this time kissing you deeper. The hand around your waist pulls you impossibly closer, leaving no room between your bodies. It gives Sungho the leverage to lean over you slightly, letting his lips capture yours again and again. The feeling is dizzying. Never has Sungho’s touch electrified you so much. 

When you finally pull away, heavy panting fills the silence between you. It takes Sungho a moment to open his eyes, finally staring back at you with dark eyes. It’s different from the Sungho you’re so used to seeing, playful and easygoing. Instead, this Sungho desires. 

“So,” you can’t help but ask. “This means you don’t like Daeun, right?”

“Holy shit,” Sungho curses before breaking out into laughter.

His chuckles shatter the moment, both hands dropping down to his sides. It’s endearing to watch how his nose scrunches and his eyes squeeze shut. But honestly, you don’t know what is so funny. 

“Y/N, pumpkin,” Sungho begins in between chuckles. “Daeun has a girlfriend.”

Oh.

.FIN.