„Psssshh, don’t make a sound.“, Jeongin warned you as he noticed his friend moving around behind you on the couch.
You were trying your best not to make any noise but as Jeongin’s fingers were pumping in and out of you, you lost yourself in the pleasure he brought you.
His fingers were long and tender, finding your wet entrance easily.
He was holding you in his strong arm while the other one was penetrating you roughly. You could feel yourself getting sore but didn’t care, you didn’t want him to stop. You needed him. Badly.
Your hips started swaying automatically, your whole body leaning into him.
You noticed his friend shuffling behind you but didn’t care anymore. This was exciting and nerve-wracking, this was out of your comfort zone.
Jeongin had a broad smile on his lips, not saying a word though. His fingers glided into you faster, curving inside and hitting all the right spots.
Hastily, he placed his lips onto yours as a silent moan escaped your lips.
„You’re going to wake them all up, y/n.“, he warned you sternly.
„Oh please, as if you would mind.“, you retorted.
„What? You want me to fuck you in front of all of them?“
„Wouldn’t be the first time…“, his friend suddenly mumbled next to you.
You hid your head in Jeongin’s chest, panicky and ashamed.
„Hey hyung, you’re awake?“, he muttered coyly.
„Yeah, sleeping wasn’t really an option with the two of you going at it right next to me.“
Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment.
„Sorry, hyung. I just couldn’t hold back…“, Jeongin muttered.
„No, I get it. I wouldn’t hold back either. In fact, I’d love to join…“
Before you were even able to realize what had happened, you found his friend’s hands on your ass, groping and squeezing hard.
„What do you say, y/n? Are you ready for more fingers?“
After years of holding in your feelings your done keeping them to yourself. With it being Valentine's day and the anniversary of when you and I.N met you decide its now or never, but does he remember you from all those years ago?
Pairing: Student!I.N x Student!reader
Genre/tags: There is some light angst but its really just a simple love story between you and I.N! There is bullying throughout the story in memories, and some descriptive terms of what the reader is wearing such as a bracelet and the reader getting head gear (I was thinking about braces I.N because hes just so cute)
Word Count: 4.7k
[note]: Happy Valentines day to everyone everywhere! Today is the day of love and I want you all to know I love you very very much! Thank you to everyone that voted in my pull on what to post as well, it helped me decide which one I liked better too! Please enjoy this story ☺️
MASTERLIST
Can you really be a secret admirer if the person you love with all your heart knows you? What about if they know you, but don’t know anything about you? What if the person you can’t imagine a world without waves to you in the hallway, offers you that small, polite smile, but pauses just a second too long before saying your name, like he’s flipping through a mental notebook and hoping it’s written somewhere on the first page? Are you a secret admirer then? Or are you just someone clutching onto a hope so fragile it feels almost foolish to protect?
Because here’s the thing: you’ve liked I.N since middle school. Not in the silly, “he’s cute this week” way that comes and goes with seasons and new seating charts, or in the way your friends giggle about someone new every other month. This was something completely different. It grew roots before you even realized something had been planted.
You’ve had other crushes before. You know what it feels like to choose someone because it’s easier. Because they sit next to you in class just so someone will notice you. People want someone who might want you back because it feels safer than wanting the one who makes your chest tighten just by existing. But I.N was never a substitute. He wasn’t a distraction or a phase. He was the standard. The impossible, golden, terrifying standard.
The kind of love you feel for him doesn’t even feel like a crush anymore. It feels sacred to an extent! Like something that should be handled with quiet hands and whispered words. Sometimes it feels almost wrong to try to put it into sentences like saying it out loud would make it smaller than it deserves to be. When you look at him, you don’t just see a boy. You see the way his smile seems to lift the entire room, like the moon deciding to show up early just to make sure the sky doesn’t feel empty. You see eyes that glow with a softness that could coax life out of a dying garden. You notice the way he laughs, the way he tilts his head when he’s confused, the way he pushes his hair back without thinking. You collect these tiny details like treasures no one else seems to notice.
But there also came the fear. It’s exhausting sometimes, how naturally your mind drifts toward him, like a compass that refuses to point anywhere else. You’re almost haunted by the idea of him.
But you accept it. You accept the obsession, the way it lingers, because it distracts you from the truth. The frustrating, heartbreaking, torturous truth. To him, you are just another face in the hallway. Like a random name on a class roster. Some girl who laughs at his jokes and stands nearby during lunch. Nothing special. Nothing that would make his heart stutter the way yours does. You are nothing to him.
And you know that.
The only thing tying you to hope is a memory. A single, fragile thread you refuse to let snap. You doubt he remembers it the way you do. You’re almost certain he doesn’t. To him, it was probably just another ordinary day. Another passing moment swallowed by time. But to you?
It was the day you finally fell in love.
“Come on, Y/N. Just show us, it’ll be funny!”
Eunwoo’s voice cuts through everything else. He’s holding his phone up like this is some kind of live event. The flash goes off again, harsh and blinding, and for a second you can’t even see properly. The red reflection in his eyes from the camera makes him look almost inhuman. His friends crowd around him, shoulders bumping into yours on purpose. Someone snorts. Someone mutters, “It’s huge,” like you can’t hear them. The sun feels unbearable. It presses down on your head, on the metal around your face, on your lungs. You suddenly feel aware of everything , the way the headgear rests against your cheeks, the tight pull in your jaw, the sound of your own breathing getting too loud.
You hadn’t expected this.
It’s February 14th. Everyone else showed up with heart-shaped chocolates, small gifts, shy smiles. And you showed up with braces and the biggest piece of orthodontic headgear known to mankind.
When the orthodontist handed you the mirror yesterday, you’d laughed awkwardly but told yourself it wasn’t that bad. Sure, it was bulky. Sure, it felt dramatic. But it was temporary. You even picked your band colors carefully! They were something bright and fun, something that felt like you. Now those same colors are the punchline. “Open your mouth wider!” someone calls. You swallow instead. The metal feels heavier by the second. It presses into your skin like it’s trying to fuse there permanently. You suddenly wish you could rip it off, even though you know you can’t. You wish you could disappear into the concrete beneath your shoes.
You hadn’t felt ugly this morning.
“Hah! Has she always looked like a horse?”
“I know, right? She could’ve at least chosen a pretty color. The yellow sticks out so much…”
The words stack on top of each other until they stop sounding like sentences and start sounding like noise. Your mind races trying to understand but at this point maybe it's better you don't. You can't even respond anymore. There’s no point. Anything you say would just be recycled into another joke.
Earlier by the time the bell rings for lunch, your hands were shaking. You didn't look at anyone as you left the classroom. You just walked fast, not running, because that would make it worse, but fast enough that you almost convince yourself you’re escaping. You aim for the stairs outside into the school. No one really ever uses them anymore and its not like anyone is insane enough to follow you, or at least that's what you had thought.
You had made it halfway down before you heard people following closely behind you. Someone laughs and says, “Wait, get a close-up.” Your chest tightens so suddenly it feels like you’ve swallowed something too big. You didn’t do anything. All you did was get some head gear to fix your teeth and feel pretty when you smile and people have decided it's the funniest thing they've ever seen before. You try to understand it. Maybe you missed something. Maybe there was a reason. Maybe you accidentally offended someone weeks ago. Maybe you said something wrong. But there’s nothing. That’s what makes it worse. Can people really be so mean to make fun of you when you've done nothing wrong?
You feel small in a way that has nothing to do with height or posture. Small like your existence has shrunk down to a single trait people can mock. Small like the walls are too tall and the hallway stretches on forever and there’s nowhere left that feels safe. You look around for one person, just one, who might look uncomfortable. Who might tell them to stop. Who might step in. But no one does.
Why you?
I.N stands there a little too long, fingers curled loosely at his sides, eyes fixed on the envelope like it might disappear if he blinks. The wax seal is pressed neatly into the heart. No smudges or hesitation in the design. Whoever made it meant it and goodness that's so so SO exciting. He exhales slowly but doesn’t move. It’s ridiculous, really. In all reality it’s just paper. Cream-colored, slightly rough, the kind that looks chosen instead of grabbed. But his pulse won’t calm down. It keeps jumping, tripping over itself, racing ahead of him.
He’s never been confessed to before. Or at least not seriously. Sure, there have been jokes. Teasing. Like Bang Chan nudging him and saying someone was looking at him during class. But nothing like a word for word genuine confession. His mind starts building possibilities faster than he can stop it. Maybe it’s a list of reasons. The way he smiles. The way he laughs. Maybe someone noticed small things about him he didn’t realize were noticeable. Maybe it’s a poem written at midnight. Maybe it ends with a time and a place. After school. Like a cherry tree in the animes he watches!
His chest tightens at the thought. He wants to open it. He really does. There’s something intoxicating about the idea that someone chose him. That someone looked at all the other boys in the hallway and still decided he was worth writing about. The letter feels heartwarming because even if he doesn’t say it out loud, there are days he feels invisible in a different way. He isn’t unpopular. Not at all. Bang Chan is dependable. Changbin is confident. Seungmin has that sharp wit that makes people gravitate toward him. Felix is just a cute ball of sunshine. Han is funny without trying. Hyunjin turns heads just by walking into a room. And well Lee Know is the one that does the confessing. I.N fits in. He laughs with them. He’s included. He belongs.
But when it comes to girls, he’s always felt slightly to the side. Girls normally talk to his friends first, and he tells himself he doesn’t mind. Okay… most of the time, he doesn’t. So forgive him for being utterly shell shocked a girl wrote him a love letter on Valentine's!
But all of his feelings collide with something else. The fact his heart isn't empty in the slightest. It’s been occupied for years. Yet it's not by someone he talks to every day. Not even by someone he’s close to. Just a shadow. A memory he replays more often than he should. A girl who probably doesn’t even know how much space she takes up in his thoughts. He can't give his heart to someone else when he doesn't even own it himself! So he sadly already knows what he needs to tell whoever wrote the letter. One single, simple word that seems to hold much more power then it should. The word “No.”.
He’s never seen anyone as beautiful as she was that day. And the frustrating part? He never asked her name. It’s been a few years now. Not a lifetime. Just enough time for details to start slipping through his fingers. He tries to hold onto them, but memory isn’t gentle. It blurs edges. It softens lines. It steals specifics when you aren’t paying attention.
He can’t remember the exact shade of her eyes anymore. He used to think he could. Now when he tries, the image shifts. Brown? Maybe. Or something lighter. He can’t be sure. He doesn’t remember how her hair fell , straight or slightly wavy, tied back or loose around her shoulders. That part is fading too. It's so terrible to know you love someone but not remember who that person is.
What he does remember is the feeling.
She was smaller than him, just slightly. He remembers looking down a little when they spoke. He remembers her voice, soft, but also no where near weak. Gentle in a way that made him want to lean closer so he wouldn’t miss a word. And more than anything, he remembers the way she smiled. It was bright without being loud. Warm without trying. When she smiled, something in the air changed. He always thinks of yellow when he thinks of her, not the harsh kind people complain about, but the kind that feels alive. Like sunlight through classroom windows. Maybe like daisies growing in uneven patches. Or like the smell of popcorn drifting through a movie theater lobby. He can imagine sunflowers stretching toward the sky without apologizing for taking up space whenever she flashed a quick grin at him.
So now, standing in front of a love letter sealed with a heart, he feels trapped by his own promise. Because how can he say yes to someone… when he’s still waiting for a girl he might not even recognize anymore? Even if part of him is thrilled. Even if his stomach flips at the idea that someone chose him. Even if he’s curious. It wouldn’t be fair. Not to the girl who wrote the letter. And not to the girl who still lives in his memory, bright and untouchable. He tells himself it’s loyalty, though sometimes loyalty is just a word to cover being a fool.
That he can only allow himself one star. His bright blinding yellow star.
Maybe it’s because it’s senior year. Maybe it’s because you’re tired of loving him quietly. Maybe your heart just couldn’t keep carrying something this heavy without breaking. Whatever the reason, you finally did it. You actually wrote the letter! Every thought you’ve swallowed for years. Every small moment you treasured alone. Every stupid, hopeful dream. You folded all of it into paper that suddenly felt too small to contain you. The envelope looked delicate compared to what it held. Like trying to pour the ocean into a teacup. Your hands were shaking when you sealed it. And now here you are.
Under the same stairs where everything once began for you. The same concrete walls. The same dim light. The same spot where he once sat beside you without knowing he was changing your life. You asked him to meet you here. To be honest you probably could have dressed the area up a bit to hide the chipped paint, or how there is gum stuck to the underside of the stairs. You just couldn't bring yourself to make it look any different then when you first met each other. So if he comes at least it will be romantic to you. Because this is your story. And this is the place your heart first chose him.
The waiting is unbearable. Every time footsteps pass overhead, your head snaps up. Every shadow makes your pulse spike. The clock on your phone feels like it’s mocking you, the minutes dragging instead of moving. The chocolates in your hands feel heavier than they should. You bought them this morning, hands sweating as you stood in line. They weren’t even fancy, just something simple, something sweet. Now they feel like evidence of your vulnerability. You smooth your skirt for the hundredth time. You’re sure that wrinkle wasn’t there before. You adjust your hair. Wipe your palms. Shift your weight. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Just when your thoughts start spiraling again, you see him. Walking toward you. Relief hits you so fast your knees almost give out. He didn’t ignore it. He didn’t laugh about it with his friends. He didn’t pretend he never saw the letter. Of course he wouldn’t, you tell yourself. He’s not that kind of person. Maybe that’s part of why you love him, not because he’s perfect, but because he’s kind in ways that don’t ask for attention. Still, the fear had been there.
Now time feels strange. Slow. Thick. Every step he takes seems stretched out, like the world decided to give you extra seconds to memorize him. You let yourself look. Really look at him as the rest of the world fades.
His fox-like eyes narrow slightly against the dim light, dark and sharp but somehow soft at the edges. His black hair falls just low enough to brush near them, messy in a way that looks accidental but never is. And when he notices you staring, his lips curve, that small, orange-shaped smile you’ve memorized over the years. It hits you all over again. Gosh, he’s beautiful.
You swallow and force yourself to speak before courage slips through your fingers. “Thank you for coming… I–I wanted to share my feelings for you before our senior year came to an end.” Your voice wavers at first but steadies as you go on. You gesture lightly toward the letter he’s holding. The sunflower bracelet around your wrist trembles with the movement, the tiny charms catching what little light there is. “But I guess you already know that.”
There’s a fragile smile on your face. Honest. Nervous. I.N doesn’t answer right away. His eyes move over you slowly, not in a judging way, and certainly not in a distracted way. In a searching way. Like he’s trying to place something. His gaze lingers on your bracelet. On the yellow. On the way your fingers twist together when you’re anxious. On the softness in your expression.
Why is it all so familiar to him?
“See…” You stare at your shoes the way you used to years ago, when everything felt heavier than it should’ve. Back then you felt small because the world made you feel that way. Now you feel small because he’s looking at you. And somehow, that’s different. His eyes are on you , fully, gently, and you don’t think you’ll ever forget this moment. No matter what happens next. “Ever since I’ve known you,” you begin, your voice quieter than you expected, “I’ve admired your bravery. The way you don’t let people get to you. The way you stay kind even when others aren’t.” Your hands twist together, a nervous tick you have.
This wasn’t how you rehearsed it. You had planned something smoother. Something less vulnerable. But now the words are spilling out without permission. “You were kind to me when you didn’t have to be. You made me laugh on days that felt impossible. And I don’t think you even realized what that meant.” You inhale, steadying yourself. “I love you in a way I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone else. You’re my first everything. The first person I look for without thinking. The first name that comes to mind when I wake up. The first person I’ve ever wanted to say those words to.”
Your throat tightens. Tears blur your vision, but you don’t stop.
“And that’s because I do. I love you. I really do. Even if you never noticed… you’ve always been there for me. And I just… I hope one day I can be someone like that for you too.” Silence follows. You force yourself to look up. I.N is frowning, not in anger, not in discomfort, but like he’s holding something fragile inside his chest. His eyes are glossy. Your heart sinks. You recognize that expression. You’ve prepared for this. You told yourself you were ready. You practiced hearing it in your head so many times it almost felt dull.
But standing here now, watching his lips part to speak, you realize rehearsals don’t soften reality. This will be the last day you look at him as a possibility. The last day you let yourself imagine futures.
The last day you'll be able to be in love with I.N.
You can hear a smaller voice coming from the crowd, still prominent against the glare of dozens of phones aimed in your direction. But this voice, it’s different. It doesn’t carry the sharp edge of cruelty that the others do, doesn’t slice through you like cold steel. Instead, it’s warmer, kinder, like sunlight spilling through a cloudy sky, like a flame finally finding its kindling. Your chest tenses as it breaks through the wall of mocking laughter. “Leave her alone!” the voice shouted.
Your body freezes. You want to look up, to see who has the courage to yell over everyone, to see who is trying to defend you. But fear roots you to the ground. The shame curls tight around your stomach, gnawing at you. Everyone already thinks you’re disgusting, how much worse would it be if they saw the tears now streaking down your cheeks? “You guys are such jerks! I mean seriously, don’t you know any better?” The voice rises again, steadier this time, pulling the air out of the crowd. The laughter dies, fading into awkward coughs and murmurs. People glance at each other, eyes shifting, guilty or uncertain. The silence that settles is thick, almost suffocating, like the air itself is holding its breath.
Then, sharp fingers point. Eunwoo. The one making the most fun of you and also the boy with a messy haircut he had gotten just last week, now the center of attention. “You want people to comment on that shaggy curtain you got slapped on your forehead?” The voice rings out, cutting the tension with a clarity that makes some of the snickering stop. A few small, reluctant snickers ripple through the crowd, but they’re hesitant, unsure where to direct themselves now. You notice the subtle shift, the cruel energy has been redirected, not gone entirely, but less focused on you. For a moment, you feel a spark of relief, a strange warmth blooming in your chest. It’s like someone lit a candle in the dark corners of your mind that had been stuffed with shame.
Because, in truth, it never really mattered who was being mocked. The crowd only needed a target, a way to feel superior for a fleeting moment. But now, just for a second, someone had reminded them that it mattered who the target was. And maybe, just maybe, it could stop.
“All of you need to go back to elementary school and learn how to be nice again. You’re all like kids!” The voice rang out, sharp, firm, impossible to ignore. You could hear the shuffle of feet, the murmur of disgruntled voices, and then the slow trickle of people leaving, unwilling to be called out.
“Ya, that’s right! Go and run like you’re the good guy!” A fake spit noise followed, exaggerated, meant to sound threatening, like the kid defending you was trying to growl at the world. And when the last footsteps faded, when the laughter and the glare of cameras were gone, something in the air shifted. You exhaled slowly, the tension in your shoulders loosening just a fraction. A small, unbidden smile tugged at your lips. You peeked out from behind your trembling arms, heart still hammering, curiosity stronger than fear now. You wanted to see the person who had not only saved your body from ridicule but had, in some unspoken way, shielded your heart from being shattered.
And then you looked up. It was like time itself had paused, holding its breath along with you. Not just for you, though, there was a pulse, a quiet rhythm shared between the two of you, like hearts syncing without thought, like two metronomes suddenly aligned. Every beat felt like a note in a song only your souls could hear, tender and unbreakable. His eyes, warm, bright, steady, met yours. You could see it there: kindness, genuine care, and a quiet strength that didn’t need to shout. It wasn’t just warmth; it was recognition, understanding, the ability to see someone as more than what the world had cruelly forced them to believe. And in your gaze, he saw you, not just your shame, not just your fear, but the person behind the trembling smile and tear-streaked cheeks.
The whole world seemed different, suddenly lighter and more vivid. Colors were brighter, the sky sharper, the air buzzing with possibility. Everything was stunning, blindingly beautiful, as though the sunlight itself had decided to settle just there, between the two of you. And amidst it all, there was only one thought echoing in both of your minds, unspoken but absolute.
The person you're looking at reminds you so sweetly of the color yellow.
I.N immediately snaps his eyes up to yours, and for a moment, the world seems to shrink until it’s just the two of you. His mind races, a sudden, shocking clarity washing over him as he finally remembers what he had forgotten all those years ago. The face that had been sad and tentative a few minutes ago, the face that was giving into rejection, about to say it, is now lit with something brighter, something alive, almost trembling with joy. You can see it in his eyes, wide and shimmering, the hint of unshed tears catching the light like tiny stars. His thoughts spin faster than they’ve ever moved before, and one undeniable truth roots itself deep in his mind as he knows this is the face he’s saved, the one he’s carried across time and memory, the one he’s been searching for without fully knowing why.
You feel like that too, like you’ve been found. After all the fear, the embarrassment, the shaky courage to even peek at him, it’s like gravity itself pulls your chest forward, pulling your heart out of hiding. And suddenly, in his mind, you’re not just anyone. You’re his bright golden yellow star, the one he’s crossed galaxies for, the one he’s hunted through every shadow and every memory just to find, to hold, to share all the love he’s been carrying. That warmth, that light, it’s always been for you.
Just as your feet are about to turn, your chest tightening with fear, sure of the rejection that seems inevitable, his hand finds yours. The grip is gentle but insistent, pulling you back from leaving, and your pulse catches in your throat. He’s smiling, wide and unrestrained, so wide that it almost eclipses everything else, so bright you can barely see the pupils of his eyes, but they’re there, dilated, alive with unfiltered happiness. The kind of happiness that radiates from someone who’s finally found exactly what they were looking for, and in that moment, you feel it too: the weight of the world slipping off your shoulders, replaced with something raw and incandescent.
The name he had forgotten years ago slips from his lips naturally, like a melody he had hummed in his mind a thousand times without ever realizing it. “Y/N?” It’s barely a whisper, soft enough that it feels like it could shatter if spoken any louder. The excitement in his voice is palpable, trembling with awe and disbelief, as though he’s afraid that if he says it too strongly, you might vanish like a dream.
His fingers tighten slightly around your wrist, warm and gentle, but there’s no pressure, no demand. You could pull away, and he would let you, yet somehow, you don’t want to. There’s safety in that warmth, in that patience, in the quiet reverence of how he looks at you. It’s as if he’s seeing every hidden, secret piece of you, and instead of recoiling, he’s holding it all like something sacred. Your chest swells with a strange, intoxicating relief. You are no longer hidden, no longer secret. The boy you’ve loved for years, the one whose presence has haunted your dreams, whose smile has lingered in your heart, finally knows you. And he seems like he might cry tears of pure joy just from being near you, from finally knowing the truth of your existence.
In that moment, it becomes clear. Love can indeed prevail. Not just any love, not fleeting or superficial, but the kind that has survived time, absence, and uncertainty. The kind that blooms when the person is exactly right, when their heart is steady and kind and bright enough to meet yours.
The joy that floods through you is blinding, almost scary in its intensity, but underneath it is a gentleness so profound that it feels like sunlight spilling into every corner of your soul. It is warm, patient, and kind, like a sunflower turning toward the light or a star held carefully in two hands, beautiful, radiant, meant to be cherished, never crushed. From that day forward, you and I.N celebrated every Valentine’s Day together. Each one was filled with laughter, fluttering hearts, shy smiles, and small, electric touches. Every glance, every gentle squeeze of a hand, every shared secret made your bond feel unbreakable, as if the universe itself had conspired to bring you two together at exactly the right moment. The years of longing and quiet hope culminated in moments like these, pure, golden, and unforgettable.
And on each Valentine’s Day after that, you could feel it: the love that had been waiting, the light that had been searching, and the joy that would never, ever fade.
Because true love isn't pink for flirtation, or red for seductive, but yellow for the joy you feel when you've finally found the love of your life.
Happy Birthday Jeongin! Our maknae on top, (not so) baby bread and favourite fox. Just know that Stays will always love you. I hope you get to spend the day with your loved ones and never forget how much you're appreciated ♡
