synopsis: your boyfriend, choi yeonjun, seems to have this natural dominant thing to him.
› pairings & contents: choi yeonjun x reader, established relationship.
✧ warnings: non sexual dominance, dom!yeonjun, use of nicknames (baby), headcannons + drabble.
• you wouldn't expect a guy like yeonjun to be dominantly in an intimidating way, because truly, he's not. it's quieter than that. he just... naturally takes the lead without making it feel like he's forcing you to follow. somehow, everyone ends up listening to him anyway.
• he'd absolutely do that thing where he guides you through a crowded place with a hand resting lightly on your lower back or around your shoulder. not possessive, just making sure you don't get separated. if someone bumps into you, he'll instinctively pull you a little closer before asking, "you okay?"
• if you have the tendency of overthinking,, or just overthinking something in general, he won't sit there entertaining every "what if." he'll listen first because he genuinely wants to know what's bothering you, but eventually he'll sigh, look you dead in the eye, and go, "okay. enough. we're not doing this to ourselves anymore." and somehow... you actually stop spiraling.
• he has a habit of making decisions when he knows you're mentally exhausted. "what do you wanna eat?" turns into, "don't think about it. i already ordered." because he knows you'll spend forty minutes saying, "i don't mind."
• he's definitely the type to tease you for pretending you're independent twenty-four seven, even if you really are an independent person. "you know you can let me help, right?" followed by a grin because he already knows you're about to refuse.
• eye contact is kind of his thing. if you're trying to lie to him or hide that something's wrong, he'll tilt his head a little and just... look at you. not saying anything. waiting. he knows you'll crack eventually.
• if you're arguing, he isn't the type to yell over you. honestly, he'd probably get quieter. calmer. almost annoyingly calm. he'll wait until you've gotten everything out, then respond without matching your energy. somehow that's way scarier than shouting.
• he'd gently fix things without asking. your hoodie's twisted? fixes it. your necklace clasp turned around? fixes it. a strand of hair stuck in your lip gloss? already moving it away before you even notice.
• "come here."
yes, that's literally it.
not demanding though, not harsh, either. just confident enough that you find yourself walking over before realizing you didn't even question it.
• he's competitive by nature, so if you challenge him to literally anything, he'll get this little smirk that says oh, you're serious? then he'll beat you while laughing the entire time. and yes, he'll remind you about it for the next week.
• if someone disrespects you, he just steps in. i doubt he'd be the type to cause a scene, honestly because there's something about the way he carries himself that makes people rethink what they were about to say.
• he'd absolutely steal your phone when you've been doomscrolling for hours. "that's enough." you'd complain, reach for it, and he'd hold it juuust out of reach with the biggest grin on his face. "go drink water first."
• when you're walking together, he subconsciously adjusts his pace to yours. if you're distracted and drifting toward the road, he'll lightly hook a finger around your sleeve and guide you back without even interrupting the conversation.
• he's really good at reading people, so he'd notice the little things before you mention them. the fake smile. the shorter replies. the way you start picking at your rings when you're anxious. he won't ask, "are you okay?" ten times. instead he'll quietly clear your schedule if he can, hand you your favorite drink, and say, "talk whenever you're ready."
• physical reassurance comes naturally to him. a hand on the back of your neck when you're stressed. squeezing your shoulder as he walks past. resting his chin on your head while you're standing next to him. nothing dramatic—just little habits that somehow make everything feel calmer.
• he's the type to casually move you behind him without thinking if a bike comes speeding down the sidewalk or if there's a crowd pushing through, because protecting the people he cares about is almost instinctive. (please do not mistake this for him thinking you're incapable, absolutely not.)
• if you're being stubborn for absolutely no reason, he'll match your energy. "fine." "fine." ten minutes later he's standing in front of you holding out the thing you refused to let him carry earlier. "are we done?" and somehow he's smiling the whole time because he knew you'd give in eventually.
• compliments from him feel different because he doesn't throw them around every five minutes. don't get me wrong, he compliments you so well. if he tells you, "i'm proud of you," or "you handled that really well," you know he means every word. he's observant enough to notice the effort nobody else sees.
• at the end of the day, remembering the little things so you don't have to. making decisions when your brain is fried. standing in front of you when things get messy and beside you when they don't. he never makes you feel smaller,, if anything, he has this quiet way of making you feel safe enough to be completely yourself.
— FURTHERMORE . . .
"you're sulking."
"i'm not."
yeonjun looked up from his phone for maybe half a second before humming.
"you've answered every question with one word for the last ten minutes."
"...have not."
"there it is again."
you crossed your arms harder, determined to stare out the café window instead of at him.
he let the silence sit.
most people would've rushed to fill it.
yeonjun never did.
he was annoyingly patient.
"...you gonna tell me what's wrong?" he asked eventually.
"nothing."
"right."
another few seconds passed.
he reached across the table, not for your hand, but for your untouched iced coffee.
he took the straw, used it to stir the drink, then slid it toward you.
"drink." followed by a "please."
you blinked.
"that wasn't an order."
"i know."
"...you're weird."
"probably.
you took a sip anyway.
he smiled to himself like he'd expected that.
"better?"
"a little."
"good."
you narrowed your eyes.
"don't do that."
"do what?"
"the... thing."
"very descriptive, baby."
"where you somehow make me do what you want."
he laughed under his breath.
"i didn't make you do anything."
"yes, you did."
"you made the decision."
"because you looked at me."
"that's usually how conversations work."
you groaned, dropping your forehead onto the table.
"you're actually impossible."
he reached over and gently flicked your forehead.
"dramatic."
"mean."
"still drinking your coffee though."
"...don't ruin this for yourself."
"too late."
he grinned.
a few minutes later, you finally admitted what had been bothering you all afternoon.
he listened without interrupting once.
when you finished, he nodded like he'd already been piecing everything together in his head.
"okay."
"okay?"
"yeah."
"that's all you have to say?"
"no."
he stood, grabbed both of your bags before you could reach for yours, and slung them over one shoulder.
"come on."
"where are we going?"
"walking."
"yeonjun—"
"you're overthinking."
he held the café door open.
"and i'm fixing it."
"...you always think you know best."
he shrugged.
"not always."
a beat.
"just most times,"
you rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, but you walked through the door anyway.
need a soft Soobin X reader where reader keeps trying to confess to soobin but he's just so oblivious, the only way he gets it is when reader uses a LoL couple as her final pick up line
"will you be the Rakan to my Xayah???"
"??? YOU WANT TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND??"
"THATS WHAT IVE BEEN TRYING TO SAY THIS ENTIRE WEEK"
“𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒” 𝜗℘ 𝐂𝐒𝐁.
𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𓈒 oblivious!sb X fem!reader 1k+ words fluff
ᝰ.ᐟ just sb not getting the hints skinship corny idk
𝜗𝜚 𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ៹ Had to do my research for this one cause i have never touched LoL in my life ! Tysm for requesting, anon !! Mwa 🤍. We love gamer soob . Pls lmk if I got any of the terms n stuff wrong- (the reviving was moreso for the cheesy lines to fit)
You used to think that crushes felt like fireworks — sudden, bright, impossible to ignore.
But falling for Choi Soobin felt more like sunrise.
It happened slowly, quietly, the way light creeps through blinds on a lazy morning until the whole room glows and you can’t remember what it looked like before.
It started with small things.
The way he always waited for you outside lecture halls, earbuds dangling around his neck, one hand tucked into his hoodie pocket. The way he texted you “did you eat yet?” after study sessions like some kind of gentle ritual. The way he listened — really listened — whenever you talked, even when you were rambling about random nonsense.
You told yourself it was nothing at first. Just friendship. Just comfort.
But one day, he smiled at you — soft, eyes curving into crescents — and something in your chest fluttered so hard you almost dropped your coffee. That’s when you knew you were in trouble.
It became your little secret.
Between group projects and campus walks, between late-night gaming and bubble tea runs, you found yourself studying the tiny details of him — the way he laughed with his whole body, the way he fiddled with his pen during class, the faint crease on his nose when he smiled too hard.
It was so obvious to you.
Too bad it wasn’t obvious to him.
Soobin, for all his kindness and height and angelic dimples, was painfully oblivious.
He wasn’t stupid — he just existed in this perpetual state of mild distraction, floating through life like a golden retriever who’d never experienced subtlety.
The first time you tried to confess, it wasn’t even planned.
You were waiting in line for drinks at the campus café, his bag slung over your shoulder because he’d run back to grab his wallet. When he finally returned, slightly out of breath and still smiling, you handed him his cup and blurted,
“You make my heart pop… Like the pearls in this… The boba pearls.”
Soobin blinked, tilting his head. “That’s so cute,” he said, sipping from his straw. “You always say the funniest things.”
You stared at him, speechless. “I— yeah. Funny. Totally.”
He grinned, satisfied, and went back to talking about his LoL rank while you stood there wondering how the universe could bless someone with a face that beautiful and a brain that empty.
Over the next few days, your attempts became more deliberate.
A note slipped into his notebook (“you make everything sweeter”).
A text after your study date (“I like you a latte ☕”).
Even giving him your hoodie, not that he could fit it (“it smells like me, so you won’t miss me later”).
Each time, he smiled — genuinely, warmly — and responded with the wrong kind of affection.
“You’re such a good friend.”
“Aw, thanks, you’re the nicest.”
“You always take care of me.”
Friend.
Nice.
Take care.
Every word felt like another soft punch to the ribs.
But still, you couldn’t stop trying. Because he made it so easy to love him, even when it hurt.
The turning point came on a rainy Thursday evening.
You were in his dorm room, half-buried under a blanket, both of you playing League of Legends together. The sound of rain against the window mixed with Soobin’s quiet laughter every time your characters died in spectacular fashion.
“Okay, but you have to admit,” he said between laughs, “that was the worst ult timing I’ve ever seen.”
You threw a pillow at him. “You distracted me!”
“I literally said, ‘don’t engage yet!’”
“You smiled! How am I supposed to focus when you do that?”
He blinked, surprised, then chuckled. “I didn’t realize my face was that powerful.”
“It is..” you muttered, but your voice came out softer than intended.
He didn’t hear. Or maybe he did and pretended not to. That was the thing with Soobin — he never noticed the weight behind your words, but part of you wondered if maybe that’s what made him so easy to be around.
No pressure. No expectations. Just… him.
It was around midnight when the power flickered.
The rain had turned heavier, and thunder rumbled in the distance. The Wi-Fi died mid-game, leaving your characters frozen on screen.
Soobin sighed dramatically. “Guess that’s the universe telling me to stop feeding.”
You laughed, curling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “It’s telling you to get better at aiming, maybe.”
“Hey,” he said, feigning offense, “I’m a great Rakan.”
“Sure,” you teased. “If dying in every team fight counts as ‘great.’”
He leaned back in his chair, smiling at you through the dim light. “Then what does that make you, huh?”
“Better,” you said simply. “Carrying you since day one.”
He laughed, a soft, deep sound that filled the little room. You tried not to stare at the way his hair fell over his forehead or how the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.
He had no idea that every moment with him felt like the calm before something inevitable.
The room grew quieter after that. Just rain, and the low hum of your heart doing cartwheels.
“Soobin,” you said suddenly.
“Hm?”
You hesitated. The words hovered at the tip of your tongue, too big to swallow but too terrifying to release.
You’d failed a dozen times already, and yet here you were, ready to try again — not because you thought it would work this time, but because you couldn’t keep it in anymore.
You wanted him to know. Even if he didn’t feel the same.
You took a breath, fingers fidgeting with the blanket’s edge.
“If I said something kind of weird, would you promise not to laugh?”
He turned to look at you, earnest and curious. “Of course. Why would I laugh?”
Your throat felt tight. “Because it’s… sort of dorky.”
He smiled, gentle as always. “That’s okay. You’re sort of dorky.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your nerves. “Okay, then.”
You looked straight at him, your heart hammering like a drum, and said,
“Will you be the Rakan to my Xayah?”
For a second, he didn’t react. His eyes flicked between you and the screen, clearly processing the reference.
Then, slowly: “…Wait.” His brows furrowed. “You mean—”
You felt your face heat up. “Yes, Soobin. That’s what I mean.”
He blinked again, realization dawning like light breaking through clouds. “You— you want to be my girlfriend?”
You buried your face in your hands. “That’s what I’ve been trying to say this entire week, Soobin.”
There was silence. Then a soft, almost disbelieving laugh.
He sounded so genuinely stunned that you couldn’t help peeking through your fingers. His expression was a mix of awe and embarrassment, his cheeks flushed pink.
“I can’t believe I didn’t notice,” he murmured. “All those hints— I thought you were just teasing me.”
“I was teasing you,” you said. “And flirting. And hinting. And practically spelling it out.”
He laughed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I’m a little slow sometimes.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes?”
“Okay, a lot of the time,” he admitted. Then, softer: “But if it’s still okay… yeah. I’d like to be your Rakan.”
Your heart fluttered so hard you almost forgot to breathe. “You sure? I’m not exactly a pro gamer, you know.”
He smiled, eyes warm. “That’s fine. I’m not exactly a pro boyfriend yet either.”
Something about the word yet made you grin.
He reached out, hesitated for half a second, then brushed his fingers against yours. The touch was light, tentative — the kind of touch that says I’ve been wanting to do this for a while.
Outside, the rain softened to a drizzle. Inside, the tension melted into something sweet and easy.
You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling him relax beside you.
“So,” you murmured, “does this mean I get to trash talk you in-game without feeling guilty now?”
He chuckled, tilting his head so it rested lightly against yours. “Only if you promise to revive me when I die.”
“Deal,” you said, smiling. “But you better not feed.”
He laughed again, that soft sound that had started it all. “I’ll do my best, Xayah.”
And when the Wi-Fi reconnected and your characters spawned back into the digital battlefield, Soobin hovered over Rakan and locked him in immediately — a quiet promise glowing in the flicker of his monitor light.
Maybe love wasn’t fireworks after all.
Maybe it was something slower — something that started with laughter, with friendship, with a boy who didn’t get the hint until you told him outright.
And maybe that was exactly what made it so perfect.
request: hi!! i saw you were taking txt requests and wanted to ask if you could do headcanons for tubatu and their favourite kind of nonsexual intimacy/physical affection :D
warnings: none, that i could think off. maybe some slight negative thoughts. most definitely not proof-read
a/n: ermmmm...hi...i have made a return to writing after a LONG time so feel free to send requests :))) hope this is good!
Choi Soobin
With Soobin, I can really see him valuing consistency in a relationship. I don’t necessarily mean a routine that you and him follow intentionally, it’s just things that serendipitously fall into place that becomes a constant in his life and your relationship.
He’d really treasure these constants when things becomes a little too hectic for his liking as an idol and the leader of Tomorrow X Together.
Sometimes he’s called at random times throughout the day for dance practice, sometimes he’ll have an impromptu trip for a fanmeet, sometimes he’d have a date planned with you only for it to fall flat because the company needs him for a photoshoot
So when he’s able to anchor himself to you, whether it be before or back-to-back schedules, or amidst the craziness that is comeback season, he does nothing but take great delight in it.
So what does this entail? Nothing. No literally. What others would call ‘doing nothing,’ you and Soobin view it as soaking in each others’ presence, filling up your half-empty cups with nuggets of calmness and tenderness.
It’s nothing extravagant, it’s literally just you and him existing in the same space while he does one thing and you do another. Parallel play, if you will.
It includes Soobin doing the cooking while you’re perched on the counter, phone in hand as you read off the recipe for him
It includes sharing the bathroom with him; you’re taking a much needed shower and he’s at the counter, doing his skincare, humming along to whatever songs you have playing on your speaker, breaking the verbal silence to playfully point out how you fogged up the mirror with how hot you ran the shower
It includes small bits of the mundane that mean the world to Soobin
Slowly but surely, it just happens to become a routine. You just always end up together, quietly, peacefully without forcing anything. He starts off by adjusting things for your comfort – fluffing a pillow when he notices it growing flat, speaking in a hushed voice when you have a migraine, flickering the big lights off and turning on the soft, yellow lamps, handing you your water bottle just as you’re about to ask him for it
It may seem too simple but as time passes, he lets you see his unfiltered states. He won’t always talk about what’s wrong, not at first, but he’ll linger around you when he’s tired and overwhelmed, when something in his atmosphere is a little off, when he doesn’t have the energy to “perform”. At the end of the day, he just tends to orient himself towards you in such subtle ways: a large hand on your thigh, his body language angled towards you, even in group settings
Soobin has no qualms in you witnessing his unpolished self, when he’s quieter than usual, a little spaced out, perhaps a bit fragile from stress
That’s where his intimacy lives: in the space around you
Over time, you start to notice that that he relaxes more around you than everyone else. Sure, he loves his members, but he’s with them most of the time in front of a camera, so there’s a layer of performance surrounding the interactions. Yet, when he’s around you, he’s allowed to pull the mask off and be unguarded around you.
Your silent reading is interrupted by the arrival of Soobin in your shared apartment. You put your book off to the side and rise from the couch, already noticing the way he trudges through the door, shoulders tense but the air around him is…exhausted. “Hey, Binnie,” you greet softly, stepping on your tippy-toes to wrap your arms around his neck, smiling to yourself when he immediately reciprocates the embrace. You can feel the way he curls into himself to fully stick himself onto you, the way he bends his neck lower, his spine arched to match your height. Expecting him to pull away after a few seconds, he surprises you by waddling over to the couch with his arms still wrapped around you. He’s a little clumsy at first, bumping into the table by the door that holds a bowl of keys and random objects but he finds his rhythm as he seamlessly moves you into the living room, pulling you down alongside him. He plops down with a huff and you follow suit, sitting on the other side from him to grab both your ankles and drape them over his lap.
You pout, not playfully because if Soobin’s feeling something, you feel it with him. “Long day?” a hand comes up to cup his cheek, clean from the makeup he had to wear in the morning for recordings, soft to the touch like he always is. Ohhhh, how easy Soobin is but instantly, when your hand comes in contact with his skin, he closes his eyes peacefully, and lets out an exhale with a shake of his head. You can already see him melting into the familiarity of the joined space. “Yeah,” he mumbles, his own coming up to rest over yours, leaning into your touch while his other hand wraps around one ankles, his thumb rubbing circles into your leg. “Just…wasn’t able to get a second and breath, you know?” peaking on eye open, anyone would be amiss to neglect the tender look Soobin gives you. It’s funny, really, how his eyes start to twinkle with fondness when he opens the other eye. “But I’m okay now.”
“Are you ?” you counter with a raise of you brow, hand floating up to push back the strands of hair that fall into his eyes. Soobin just hums in confirmation, arms coming out to wrap around you waist to pull you closer to him, right into your side, making it so you rest your head on his shoulder. “I made some bimbimbap. You want me to plate it up for you?”
“Maybe later. I just wanna sit here with you for a bit,” he whispers in reply, eyes landing on the book you were reading earlier. “Whatcha reading now?” You know, oh you know all too well that if Soobin was dwelling on something, if his mind was infested with doubts and misgivings, he’d tell you, he’d open himself up and bare his problems to you. You never needed to pull it out of him, never needed to coax him. That’s how much he trusts you, that’s how much he’s so sure of you. So when he asks you this banal question, you know that he needs now, is just a change of pace from the chaos of non-stop interviews, recordings, practices, and meetings. You gladly bring him into you space, there’s no one else you’d rather share it with, so you talk about your book, the plot, your thoughts before shifting over to the kitchen for dinner, dipping into small talk, perhaps more intimate conversations of worries and wishes. With Soobin, intimacy means being someone he doesn’t have to recover from, sharing silence that feels full rather than empty, and knowing that, even though nothing substantial has been said, you’re still connected. Intimacy with Soobin is not intense, it’s enduring.
Choi Yeonjun
In a budding romance with Yeonjun, non-sexual intimacy and physical affection starts off brights, maybe a little too intentional. If he has his sights set on you, he’s going to want to let it be known to the world.
Dramatically swinging your arm while his fingers are laced through yours. Placing a hand in the back pocket of your jeans, ever the the flirt. He knows it makes you blush when he does this and a smirk graces his lips as the two of you walk down the street like that. A part of him really does live for flirty displays of physical affection; the way peoples’ eyes are on him and you, the way you squirm around, not used to such blatant displays of affection. He’s warm and physically engaging with everyone, that’s just in his nature, but with you, he takes it a step further, though, you know that it’s a little bit of a show
You can’t really fault him for it, though. Being an idol, he constantly has people trying to get close. Not close to him but close to the idol image, the fame, the status. It’s a test of sorts. Are you really wanting to stay once you realize that his schedules are so sporadic, you may not see him for weeks at a time? Are you able to stick around when he’s surrounded by so many adoring fans, knowing thousands, if not millions of people constantly have their eyes on him? And most importantly, are you able to stare back at him unflinchingly when he breaks down and the cocky facade crumbles? If yes, the way he treats you becomes all the more distinct. Not necessarily louder, just intentional
In crowded spaces, he seeks you out specifically, eyes scanning through dozens of people at an event. He’s won an award at a show, having to sit restlessly through the rest of the event until it ended, and it he immediately booked it backstage, pushing through the throngs of people, head turning to every side to find you and when he does, he breaks out into a giant, dopey smile before crashing into you.
He brings up small details you’ve offhandedly mentioned but forgot later on. Going to a cafe, you order a slice of tiramisu, garnished with a raspberry and two blueberries, the former of which you don’t like. Yeonjun knows this, so he leans over the table to pluck the berries off the dessert and pops them into his mouth. “Hey!” you cry out, wanting to get annoyed for the sake of it. “What?” Yeonjun shrugs, chewing the fruit. “You said you don’t like blueberries.” You falter. Most of the time, you forget this fact yourself, mostly because you just don’t come into contact with blueberries enough to remember your dislike for them. But Yeonjun remembered, of course he did.
Yeonjun’s intimacy stops being general warmth and becomes targeted. Finding your gaze, locking eyes with you mid-conversation, even when someone else is talking. He’ll look at you from across the table, a subtle warm flame beneath his gaze, the two of you having a conversation with no words shared
His intimacy builds through shared moments that become exclusive over time: inside jokes, repeated habits, a certain tone of voice he only uses with you. But what really deepens it is when the performance drops because when he starts to 100% trust you, he lets you see the parts of him that aren’t that confident, where he needs reassurance instead of constantly giving it as the eldest of the group, and the quiet vulnerability behind all that confident energy.
At the end of the day, Yeonjun wants to share all experiences with you. Big and small, happy and sad, he wants to go through all the ups and downs with you, he wants to include you in his energy, and wants to be included in your energy.
Choi Beomgyu
I think Beomgyu would be kind of similar because he would hide his intimacy underneath extreme playfulness and teasing
At first, he’s all noise, cackles and jokes to get under your skin, purposefully pushing your buttons just to see your reaction but if you stay long enough, you start to notice the patterns.
He’s awfully observant and so like a switch has been flipped, he’ll stop a joke mid sentence because he senses you’re mood change. Beomgyu can sometimes forget that he’ll take his teasing a little too far but when he realizes it, he’ll bite his tongue in the same second and sit closer to you than usual, clinging onto you like a cat, but literally though because he’ll touch you absentmindedly, stuffing his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your comforting scent, or he’ll start to play with your fingers while listening to his other members talk
I could see him being quite hot and cold at times. Not in a negative way but just in that his mood could plummet or rise at the drop of a hat. He could literally be resting his head in your lap, playing with strings of your hoodie that dangle in his face, purposefully singing a song off-key, just to irritate you a bit and depending on your reaction, he’ll either keep going or stop entirely.
“C’moonnnnn, your phone can’t be that interesting,” he whines, reaching a hand up to try and swat your phone away. You scoff and roll your eyes, looking through your bank account without sparing your boyfriend a glance. “Trust me, even though my credit card stresses me out, it’s less of a headache than you,” you counter back, causing Beomgyu to sidle up further into your lap, his hans flying to your waist to tickle you. “Quit it!” you squeal, trying to wriggle yourself free, eyes still trained on your phone and when you get a glimpse of a notification that pop up, you stiffen. Whatever it is, it’s enough to dampen your mood entirely.
Beomgyu senses this immediately, the way your jaw tightens, the way you start to chew on your bottom lip. He withdraws, but doesn’t leave. He pulls his fingers away from your side and gently takes your phone from you, putting it off to the side as he sits up, scooping you into his lap for a change. He settles you sideways, hand brushing a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Hey, you’re alright, okay?” his voice is softer now, there’s not a trace of that booming tone that laces his words when he’s energetic. “We’ll figure it out together.”
That’s the thing about Beomgyu. You never walk alone, you never struggle alone. Why should you when you could share the pain? Why have a piece of happiness on your own when you could double it with him around?
I definitely think Beomgyu would love late night talks the most. It’s the most intimate version of him, when the energy drops completely. At night, there’s nothing to distract him and it allows him to just…stay and be present. At times, he talks about the most random things, something he saw on the internet. “You know they played an Ateez song on the Artemis II mission?” “What? No way!” “I know! It’s a missed opportunity for them to play ‘Over the Moon,” he adds with a shake of his head. Other times, it’s a terribly soul-bearing affair.
“I don’t know. I just…the future really freaks me out, you know?” The two of you are at the park in the middle of the day, laying in the grass, other people scattered around but right now, it’s just you and Beomgyu. He’s dragged you here after the company announced that they’re going to be prepping for a comeback so he wanted to squeeze some time in with you. He’s laying straight on his back, gazing up at the sky and you’re laying the other way (think The Fault in Our Stars film poster). You hum, nodding to his words. “No, I get it, Beom. I think most of the world would understand. What’s making you think this way?”
He sighs, turning his head to look at you, a small pout on his lips from the uncertainty of the situation. “Not sure…guess the vastness of sky reminded me of the future. And the fact that contract renewals are coming up and I don’t know if-”
“-hey. It’s gonna be okay. you’re gonna be okay,” you interrupt, turning to look at him, your nose just barely brushing over his. “One step at a time and…I’m pretty confident in the fact that the rest of the guys want to keep the group together.” Beomgyu smiles and rubs the tip of his nose over your cheek. “You’re right.”
There’s softness underneath a few layers of humour. Not that his teasing isn’t him, but he’s able to be both sides of himself when he’s with you.
Kang Taehyun
Okay, so for Taehyun, because he’s a smarty pants, i could soooooooo see him loving intellectual and deep conversations
He’d loooveeee to tell you all the things he’s discovered but he’d love it even more listening to you talk about your passions and interests
He’s all about learning: learning your love languages, learning your fears to keep you safe, learning what makes you bloom out of happiness, and just learning about you in general!
With learning comes observation and Taehyun is observant alright, allowing him to be super attentive towards you and your needs
He adjusts how he speaks to you based on your moods. If you’re feeling glum, he knows to keep the teasing at pay, he doesn’t push. If you’re excited about something, he matches your energy, not wanting you to feel silly.
He helps you in ways that are uncannily timed
You had offhandedly told him that eating at university kind of makes you anxious because the cafeteria is too loud, too overwhelming. The next time you have a long day of classes, which only happens on Wednesdays, he messages you after your two back-to-back classes, knowing that you had an hour and a half window to grab lunch before your next one.
“Hey, come out of the building for me, sweetheart :))” simple and direct, but it still makes your heart flutter, especially in confusion because isn’t today his day off??? Shouldn’t he be resting??? You scurry out of the campus building, only to find Taehyun leaning against a banister at the end of the concrete staircase, arms crossed and when he sees you walk through the door, he doesn’t grin the way Yeonjun or Beomgyu would, but his face softens.
“Tae? What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be resting?” you ask, pressing a kiss to his cheek and allowing him to tuck you into his side. “I am resting. Got my baby here with me, that’s all I need.” You roll your eyes at his response but he sees the way you blush at same time and a slow smile draws on his face. “Besides, you usually have lunch at this time and I thought it would be nice to take you to a proper place. I know you don’t like how loud it is in there,” he tacks on, head gesturing towards the building. Incredulously, you stare back at him, unable to say anything for a few seconds because you’ve only said thing once. Taehyun chuckles and brings a hand to the small of your back to guide you away. “Don’t look so surprised, baby. I listen.”
I don’t think Taehyun would be too into PDA. Like yes, he loves physical affection but he kind of keeps it to a minimum in public. I think he’d be more into eye contact, especially since he has such an intense, magnetic gaze
His eyes tell the whole story and when you lock eyes, it grounds and stabilizes you. One look from Taehyun speaks much more than words can.
You could be at a fancier dinner with him and his members. It’s a little out of your comfort zone but he asked you to come and how could you say no to his boba eyes? You’re sat next to him but you aren’t given a chance to converse with him as the other members fill up the space with their own words. It gets a bit overwhelming when voices start to overlap with one another, mingled with the doubt that you’re in a place where you don’t fit it and you fall silent, but still having a nice time.
Taehyun notices almost immediately and he turns his head to look at you, his face turned down ever so slightly, looking at you through his lashes with a soft look, silently asking you “are you okay?” you nod, giving him a small smile but he sees you’re not telling the full truth, so his hand finds yours underneath the table and gives you three small squeezes. I. Love. You.
Taehyun’s intimacy is being understood in a way that’s quiet but very very real. It’s never feeling dismissed or overlooked, and even though he’s not overtly expressive, he’s actively considering you, offering security in your relationship with him
Hueningkai
With Hueningkai, because he’s such a cuddlebug, intimacy is immediately accessible, but it deepens as time goes on
It starts off easy: he reaches for your hand without a second thought, comes up behind you for a hug, his strong arms circling around your waist and rocking you side to side with his chin resting on your shoulder
For him, touch is the most natural thing in the world but as your relationship with him deepens, those simple gestures from before gain emotional weight. He attaches himself to you when he’s quiet, not just playful, he leans on you when he’s unsure, and his hugs will linger, as if he’s grounding himself
Omg you know that one live where a MOA commented that their stomach was hurting and he starts to wave his hands in circles like he’s patting their stomach??? He would DEFINITELY do that in real life
You truly don’t know what’s up. Your stomach’s been hurting for the past half hour and you’ve done everything right: you’ve eaten, you’ve gone to the bathroom, you’ve taken a painkiller, so what’s happening? You’re curled up in your bed, laying in a fetus position, having left Kai to his own devices while he was playing a game on the PC with beomgyu. Normally, you’d be sitting with him in the living room, humming to yourself as you do your own task but he noticed how eerily quiet the room was. “‘Kay, I’m hopping off for the day,” Kai says, not giving his bandmate time to complain as he clicks out of the game. Sliding his headphones off, he gets up from the desk and looks around, brows furrowing when you’re not on the couch like you usually are. “y/n?” he calls out, only to be met with silence.
He walks further into the apartment, stepping into the bedroom and sees you in bed, blanket covering your form, small whimpers of pain escaping your mouth, and he genuinely physically wilts when he sees you like this. “y/nnie, what’s wrong?” he asks, now standing at the side of the bed before crouching, hand resting on your forehead and brushing strands of your hair back.
“Stomach hurts,” is all you say in a whisper, eyes fluttering shut from the pain. A frown pulls on his lips and he gets up, walking to the other side of the bed to join you in laying, his chest pressing against your back, one arm wrapping around you so his hand rests on your tummy. “I’m sorry, bubs,” he whispers into your hair, hand starting to rub circles over your shirt. “And you already took something for it, huh?” he adds, eyes flickering to the half-closed bottle of pills on the nightstand. “Yeah but…your hand’s warm…feels nice,” you mumble, already feeling the tension in your stomach lessen from his warmth. “Yeah? Guess I’ve got the magic touch.” That may be an understatement because you fall asleep within a few minutes and even when you’re in deep sleep, he doesn’t leave. He keeps his hand on your stomach, his breath softly brushing against your hair as he himself joins you in sleep.
Maybe self-indulgent because I’m Kai biased and a #romantic, but I think he would definitely do a princess spins with you, especially if you come bearing good news. The craziest part is that he doesn’t even mean to, he just gets so caught up in your happiness that he externalizes it on instinct
Linking pinkies with you too, he thinks it’s so cute OR OMG he would be so silly and charming just to get giggles out of you
You’ve wrapped up a date with him and he drops you off at the apartment before leaving to go to HYBE for the rest of the day. He’s holding hands with you and you’re trying to let go to go inside but he won’t let you!!! “Hold on,” he says softly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. “That’s for a goodbye. And this-” another kiss. “That’s for you to keep for later.”
“Kai!” you giggle, bonking your head with his. “You’re so silly. I’ll see you in a few hours!” he shrugs, shooting you a boyish smile with hearts in his eyes cuz he’s that smitten with you, even if you’re deep in the relationship with him.
Oh, that’s another thing too. No matter how long you’ve been dating, he’ll always keep things playful and light THIS CUTIE UGH
Anyways, safe to say, with Hueningkai, you never have to doubt your relationship with him because he’s open and always ready to offer hugs and kisses. With him, it’s emotional and physical closeness that’s easy to access, but still meaningful
how soobin and yeonjun handle their (shared) bratty!gf : txt
txt mlst
pairing — choi soobin x f!reader x choi yeonjun
warnings — sfw and nsfw portions, brat tamer!soobin and yeonjun + spoiled and bratty reader
note — this is ass <3
「 sfw. 」
⤷ soobin acts all tough but oh my god the minute you start getting an attitude about not wanting to go somewhere, like out for dinner or something, he FOLDSSSSS so bad!!!
"okay, that's fine, bunny. we can stay home."
he'll say with an exasperated sigh and yeonjun just glares at him for being so easily swayed.
soobin will dismiss yeonjun’s look of disapproval and cuddle with you on the couch and assure you that you made the right choice.
yeonjun, on the other hand, practices a far more firm approach when it comes to you. so, when soobin gives in, he will simply put his foot down.
"i just bought you a whole new outfit for tonight and now you don't wanna go? is that what you're telling me right now? you wanna be ungrateful?"
he asks, rhetorically and dry, which usually works on you.
if it doesn't, he'll scoff and grab his keys as if he's leaving without you, which results in you quickly stopping him.
frankly, soobin is more scared of how you'll react if you don't get your way, so he tries to be as agreeable as possible...especially when it comes to shopping. poor soobin’s pockets HURT when he takes you out.
"i thought you said i could get them all, soobin."
you'll pout, giving him glassy doe-eyes as you stand in front of the wall of pink lacy bras, each retailing for 60-80 dollars. and, yes, you wanting every single one on that wall.
"yes, bunny. we'll get them all, don't worry."
he assures, pulling out his wallet as your pretty smile goes wide.
when you and yeonjun are shopping and you get greedy, he'll barter with you.
"okay, sweetheart, i'll get you the shoes but you gotta lose that attitude before we get to the cartier store. got it?"
he'll say sternly, looking down at you as you sit on a velvet bench, trying on the miu miu ballet flats with a full lip between your teeth.
「 nsfw. 」
⤷ when soobin is eating you out, you'll buck your hips and squirm, despite his deliberate orders to stay still. he's all talk, though.
"bunny, what did i say, hm? gotta stay still....stay still for me. be good or else."
he'll whisper, holding your thighs down, but never firm enough to actually stop you from doing anything. if he does actually threaten you, it's quickly forgotten when you get on top of him or go face down, ass up.
"oh, so now you want to be good?"
when yeonjun is eating you out, he takes absolutely no defiance whatsoever and he's mean.
"did i say you could fucking move, sweetheart?"
he says, pushing your thighs down harshly against the mattress.
"i’m sorry, junnie..."
you whine, pretending to act innocent.
"no you're fucking not, don't lie to me."
he chuckles darkly, leaving your heat and crawling up to hover over you.
you'll giggle and say under your breath,
"....you're right, i'm not..."
but he hears you.
he'll tug your bow necklace so you're noses are touching,
"you're gonna wish you were, though."
when you're getting impatient in bed, soobin is the type to punish you with actions rather than words.
"this is taking too long, hurry up…" you huff as he kisses your neck from beneath you.
to those words in such a bratty tone, he'll quickly flip the both of you so you're now underneath him. you pant out, thinking that's where he'll stop.
you give him a sly smirk, but then soobin will click his tongue,
"you shouldn’t be so impatient, now flip over."
he'll rasp.
you hesitate, trying to defy him, but he'll take your hips and flip you over himself so your ass meets his groin. his grip is so tight, surely bruises form. you open your mouth to say something sour, but he'll swat your ass so hard, you're rendered speechless.
when you're getting impatient with yeonjun in bed, he'll match your attitude and double it.
"oh, i'm taking too long, princess?"
yeonjun asks, mockingly.
"you heard me."
you retort out through muffled whimpers from his lips on your abdomen.
yeonjun will scoff,
"yeah, i did.... sounds like a fucking brat."
"only because you're making me one."
you say with faux nonchalance, but your heart beat quickens with anticipation.
he crawls up higher and grabs you by the chin roughly,
"no, i think you got that smart mouth all on your own, sweetheart."
in the midst of the crowds, in the shapes in the clouds, i don’t see nobody but you
/// dhruv, double take
pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader
summary: sometimes love and hate exist on opposite ends of the map. other times, on separate floors of the same building.
genre: ex!yeonjun / enemies to lovers au / neighbour au
warnings: slow burn, mutual pining that is genuinely so intense i’m going to personally lock them both up, strong language, jealous!jjun, fluff, flirting & teasing & being idiots in love, maybe mild angst? all communication done sideways lol
words: 10.4k
[ ! ] this is a sequel to equilibrium
masterlist / read from the beginning
✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 10, 2026. 3:30 PM
You’d spent most of Thursday in Professor Lee’s office, reviewing your students’ presentations until the PowerPoints blurred into one another.
Sungjae, the student who’d been raising his hand since the first lecture you’d taught (very rarely did it include a question), had come in last and insisted on taking you through every slide, every transition, every font choice, and every graph. You couldn’t tell blue apart from green by the end of it.
He was still explaining the philosophical implications of his contents slide, of all things, by the time you shut Professor Lee’s office door behind you.
“I feel like, visually, it creates an epistemological hierarchy,” he said, falling into step beside you as you crossed the lobby, “before the audience has even consciously registered it.”
You made a polite noise.
Sungjae had seemingly discovered the joy of over-intellectualising and decided that every sentence needed seasoning with words like paradigmatic and phenomenological. He reminded you a lot of someone.
You’d barely stepped out of the building when a car horn split through the air. A flock of pigeons launched off the roof. Heads turned across the quad.
You looked up.
When you’d agreed to attend one of the races Yeonjun was working, you hadn’t realised that also meant he intended to pick you up from university.
Now he was leaning halfway out of the driver’s window of his Mercedes in the parking lot across the quad, one hand planted on the steering wheel while the other waved high enough to change the direction of the wind. Then, because he clearly hadn’t yet drawn quite enough attention, he pressed the horn again.
Your shoulders dropped.
Beside you, Sungjae raised his eyebrows. “For you, I assume.”
You lifted an almost pleading hand towards Yeonjun, hoping he would understand the signal for please stop embarrassing me.
“For me,” you admitted.
“Boyfriend?”
You looked at Sungjae, momentarily thrown by how casually he’d asked this, before glancing back towards the Mercedes.
Yeonjun had already climbed out. Arms folded, he watched the two of you from beside the hood. Even from here, you could see him debating whether another blast of the horn would be excessive. Knowing him, he probably thought it wouldn’t be.
“Have a nice day, Sungjae,” you said instead of answering, already making your way down the stone steps. “Your presentation’s good. Just don’t spend longer explaining your design choices than your research.”
A faint blush appeared on his cheeks. “I wasn’t—”
“I’ll see you next week in class.” You crossed the quad before he could think to ask another question.
The grass shimmered beneath the late afternoon sun, freshly cut and fragrant in the breeze. Students lounged beneath the trees with their shoes and notebooks abandoned beside them, enjoying the last of the warmth. You had to veer sharply left as a cyclist swept past, offering you an amused apology that sounded more like laughter.
By the time you reached the Mercedes, Yeonjun had pushed himself off the hood. His gaze flicked past you towards the Law building.
“Who was that?” he asked.
You gave him a pointed look. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said. “Who was that?”
You let your backpack slide from your shoulder. “My student.”
His attention returned to the boy, who, honest to God, looked like a primary school kid. He was pretending to check his phone while glancing up at you and Yeonjun every few seconds.
“Persistent bloke, isn’t he?” Yeonjun murmured. “What’s his name?”
“Why’s it matter?”
Yeonjun looked back at you then, properly.
“I enjoy meeting new people,” he said simply.
“Mhmm.”
“Should I go over, then, introduce myself?”
You ran your tongue over your teeth. “If you want to never see me again, sure.”
He clicked his lips. “Right. Another time, then.”
You didn’t dignify that with a response and slid your staff lanyard off your neck before tucking it into your backpack.
Yeonjun pulled the passenger door open. “Come on, then.”
The leather seats of his Mercedes had been baking in the sun, and the warmth seeped pleasantly through your jacket as you sat down, dropping your backpack between your feet. The scent of cedarwood lingered in the cabin, familiar enough by now that your lips curved automatically.
Yeonjun shut your door and rounded the hood. The car woke the moment he slid behind the wheel and turned the key, emitting a low sound that swallowed the rest of the campus noise.
He slipped his seatbelt on and shot you a glance. “Work okay?”
You exhaled, fumbling with your own seatbelt until it clicked into place.
“Yeah,” you said. “Shouldn’t you have been at work already, though?”
“Not for another half an hour.” He pulled away from the kerb with an easy turn of the wheel. “Figured I’d save you the trip home and pick you up from here. We can grab your student, too, if you’d like.”
You rolled your eyes as the car drove past the Law building. Sungjae still stood by the door.
“M’s sure he’ll find his way home,” you said.
"Mhmm." Yeonjun watched him until he disappeared from his field of vision.
“Thanks for coming,” you said, pulling his attention back to you as you tugged the seatbelt where it had begun sawing into the side of your neck. “D’you think Violet will be alright at mine?”
The Mercedes rolled through the narrow cobbled streets. The plush seats absorbed every uneven stone.
“Probably,” Yeonjun said. “I genuinely don’t think she even notices we’re gone, s’long as it’s still light outside.”
Your expression eased.
“Alright.” You settled back. “Tell me what to expect at the race, then.”
“Okay. So—”
“How many women will be there?”
“I—” His eyes flicked towards you before returning to the road. The queue at the main junction leading out of campus had already coagulated into a procession of brake lights. “I’m actually not sure. Why?”
“Trying to work out how quickly I’ll get bored if there aren’t any women to keep me company.”
Yeonjun understood the sentiment, but he didn’t much care for the idea of someone else providing that particular service for you.
“I’ll keep you company,” he said.
You turned to him. “You’re not a woman.”
He considered that.
“Okay. That’s true.” He gave a slow nod. His left hand rested loosely at the top of the steering wheel, his wrist bent at a careful angle. “But I am still your friend. Right?”
“Right.”
“So I still count.”
“You’ll be working.”
“I can still—”
“With other men,” you added.
That made him smile.
“Ah,” he said. “So their manliness will contaminate me, s’that it?”
You gave him a flat look. “It might.”
He chuckled. The traffic crawled forward another car length.
Watching the billboards on the side of the road, he found himself thinking about the conversations he’d overheard around the paddock. Half of them had been about engines, the other half about places with flashing lights and overpriced drinks.
Before taking the job, he’d had no idea there were this many strip clubs in the city. Now he was convinced that most of them were financed solely by his drivers. Admittedly, that was quite comforting. The only good his drivers were for was keeping local businesses afloat.
All in all, Yeonjun decided, you were making a solid point.
“I’ll try not to stand too close to them,” he said finally, “and hopefully they won’t infect me.”
You snorted. The traffic moved, and he was finally able to merge onto the main street.
“You’ll be busy anyway,” you said. “How will you have time to keep me company?”
A faint crease appeared between his brows. “I always have time for you.”
Your fingers found the edge of your jacket. The stitching by the zipper felt fascinating—considerably more fascinating, in fact, than the memory of the first time he’d brought you to his race in grad school, and then skipped it altogether to walk around the woods with you instead.
“So,” you inhaled sharply, “no women, then?”
Yeonjun exhaled as the traffic lights turned red.
Resting one elbow on the open window, he drummed his fingers absently against the door while cyclists threaded between the standing cars.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Couple of teams have women around the garages, but I couldn’t tell you whether they’re engineers, mechanics, partners, or—I don’t know.” He lifted one shoulder. “Never asked. Bit awkward to go, hi, s’nice meeting you, d’you work here?”
You smiled. “Okay, fair, yeah.”
“Yeah. So I genuinely don’t know who’ll be there.”
“That’s fine, then.”
The lights flicked to green.
Yeonjun pulled forward, easing past a hesitant black BMW before its driver had registered that the traffic was moving again. Then he glanced across at you, his teeth catching briefly on his lower lip.
“Not particularly excited about this, then?” he asked.
You met his eyes for a moment before his attention returned to the road. The Mercedes turned onto a narrow lane flanked by warehouses whose corrugated walls shimmered in the sun, throwing ripples of reflected light across the windscreen.
“I am,” you said. The road felt older here, patched so many times that it looked like a black quilt. “Just nervous, I suppose. Crowds of people. You know.”
Yeonjun nodded.
To be honest, midweek races rarely drew much of a crowd. The only people who came were devoted regulars (all staggering ten of them), a handful of university students skipping lectures, relatives of the drivers, and the occasional curious passer-by who’d wandered over after seeing a social media post. Hardly the roaring masses you seemed to be imagining.
“I’ll be with you whenever I can,” he said. “Promise.”
The asphalt gave way to gravel. Loose stones crunched beneath the tyres, kicking pale dust into the air behind you.
“Thank you,” you said. “Don’t let me interfere with your work, though. I’ll survive.”
He shrugged. “My work will survive, too.”
You looked across to him. “You’re alright getting fired because you spent your shift babysitting me?”
“I am.” He caught your eye, his grin unbearably smug. “Problem?”
You looked away before he could enjoy your reaction for too long, folding your hands together in your lap.
“Well, not a problem for me,” you said. “But you quite obviously need professional help.”
“Mhmm. Think I’ve heard that before.”
“Might be worth considering.”
He laughed. Distracted by the sound, you didn’t notice the clouds sliding over the sun until the car around you dimmed.
Another ten minutes later, a broad metal gate appeared between shipping containers ahead, practically invisible until you were nearly on top of it. Little showed behind it, only flashes of colour and the occasional plume of smoke drifting into the sky.
The smell of hot rubber and petrol drifted through the open window. You could almost feel it in your throat.
“We’re here,” Yeonjun said, stopping just outside the gate and killing the engine. “Bit underwhelming from this side, I know, but hang on for me.”
You unclipped your seatbelt and looked across the uneven dirt parking lot. Cars had been abandoned wherever there’d been room, some leaning with one wheel sunk into the soft ground.
The dirt was vibrating as you stepped out of the car, deep enough to reverberate through the soles of your trainers.
It took you back to university at once. You almost expected to look up and find Beomgyu’s beaten-down Audi parked beside Taehyun’s unreasonably orange Corvette.
Yeonjun let you through the gate, which swung from a single tired hook that looked like it wouldn’t even keep pigeons out, let alone people. The smell of fuel seemed to sink into your clothes almost immediately. Yeonjun’s dark leather jacket, on the other hand, continued to smell of his cologne. Perhaps he’d grown immune to the scents here.
“Alright,” he said, extending his hands. “Welcome.”
The paddock was lively. It set you on edge at first, the loud noises, but about ten minutes of weaving through garages and trailers later, you had to admit that this wasn’t so bad after all.
There was a cosiness to the chaos around you: mechanics borrowed tools from each other without asking, drivers traded insults one minute, and shared energy drinks the next. Even the people dressed in casual clothes greeted the staff with enthusiastic high-fives. Everyone seemed to know everyone here.
It reminded you, absurdly, of your village.
You were surprised, then, once the two of you walked straight out of the paddock.
Before you could ask Yeonjun where he was taking you, he reached for your hand. Feeling your skin tingle all of a sudden, you let him guide you around the grandstands, between coils of electrical cable and past more fencing. He then turned up towards a grassy slope at the edge of the circuit.
“Why,” you asked, already out of breath as your trainers slipped against a tree root, “are we climbing a hill? Surely they aren’t racing uphill?”
Yeonjun tightened his grip to steady you. “Of course not.”
“So, what’s the—”
“You’ll see.” He stepped over another exposed root and paused to draw you around it. “Trust me.”
You brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face. “M’not a fan of surprises, you know.”
Yeonjun grinned. Instead of replying, he reached back again and gave your hand a gentle tug up the steepest stretch of the slope. The wind was stronger here, carrying the smell of damp grass. With every step, the paddock noise fell further away.
You understood why he’d brought you here the moment you reached the top.
The entire circuit unfolded beneath you: two long straights carved through the greenery before feeding into a string of quick chicanes. From up here, the tarmac looked almost painted onto the landscape, a dark ribbon between fields that ran on towards the horizon. Beyond them, the trees—some of them already golden—swayed under the steadily thickening clouds. The grandstands had shrunk to rows of silver benches, speckled with tiny, moving dots.
“Wow,” you breathed.
Yeonjun smiled and, for the first time that afternoon, looked oddly unsure of himself.
“Yeah?” He let go of your hand, a little awkwardly, and slid both of his into his pockets. “This is my favourite spot to work. At least until someone calls me back down.”
Your gaze drifted across the track. “I can see why. Got the best view here.”
“Yeah.” He nodded towards the nearest grandstand. “Not too bad over there either, if you sit near the top. Front row’s got the better soundtrack, though.”
You laughed softly. “I can imagine.”
He smiled to himself. Almost without thinking, he drew his right hand back out of his pocket and found his left wrist, rubbing his thumb over the skin.
You caught the movement out of the corner of your eye.
“Bothering you?” you asked without turning. “Your wrist.”
He looked down.
“A bit.” He flexed it experimentally. The joint answered with the same dull ache that had followed him all day. “Shouldn’t have fucked with the brace while it was on. My own fault.” His thumb kept working slowly over the bone. “I’ve also realised it gets worse whenever it’s about to rain, so m’thinking of starting a weather forecasting business.”
You snorted, eyes returning to the horizon. The leaves on the trees around the hill had begun shivering.
“It does smell like rain,” you said. “Your wrist’s probably right.”
He took a slow breath through his nose and lifted his head towards the sky.
It always seemed to darken here first. The circuit sat low enough that the storms found it before the rest of the city had even noticed the clouds.
“Hmm.” He narrowed his eyes at the western horizon. “Could be a wet race.”
“Those are usually fun,” you said.
“Well,” he gave a short laugh, “they’re fun until the team wants updated analyses every three minutes because the grip’s changing every lap. First wet race I worked, I finished convinced I’d be handing in my resignation the next morning.”
“Shit. Yeah?” You looked from the clouds back to him. “Excellent day to bring me here.”
He grinned.
“No, it is an excellent day,” he said. “You’ll be my reason not to quit.”
Your eyebrows lifted. Catching the amusement in your eyes, he gestured vaguely towards the paddock below.
“Meant that in a friendly way,” he explained. “Got to prove I’m incredibly cool and completely calm under pressure.”
You scoffed. “Of course, yes. All very important qualities. Couldn’t possibly be friends with you otherwise.”
“I’d think so,” he said, “considering Reina became Assistant Director, what—six months after joining her nonprofit?”
You smiled before you could help yourself. If promotions had been awarded by public vote, you were convinced Reina would’ve been running the organisation by now.
She’d get there eventually, you were sure.
“Well,” you said. “She’s built different. We can’t all be her.”
“And Nara and Beomgyu are about to start their own conglomerate.”
You frowned. “Are they? M’still not convinced whatever they’re doing is legal.”
He laughed. The wind caught the sound and scattered it down the hillside. Your eyes followed it move through the grass.
“Yeah, s’true, I actually don’t know either,” he said. “Point is, you’re surrounded by very ambitious people. I’ve got to fit in.”
The determination in his tone made you pause.
“They—but just happened to be like that, though,” you said, looking up at him again. “But we’re friends because they’re good people. It’s not—not because they’ve got impressive dreams or careers. If Reina quit tomorrow and became a groupie for some rock band, I’d follow them on tour with her.”
Yeonjun smiled at the image, but didn’t answer right away, his gaze settling on the grandstands.
He hadn’t considered that, although he should’ve known that you’d never cared much about being impressed.
He wanted to impress you anyway.
The wind shifted across the hillside, stirring the grass around his ankles.
“Do you think I’m a good person, then?” he found himself asking.
You turned to him. The breeze tugged at the open flaps of your jacket as you searched his face, trying to work out whether he was joking or simply fishing for compliments the way he usually did.
The relentless focus in his eyes, however, made it difficult for you to keep looking at him.
“I—I think you’re trying to be a good person,” you said, eyes dropping to the track. “Which is probably the most any of us can do.”
“Yeah?” Your careful wording pulled another small smile from him. “Would you have said that back in grad school?”
Below the hill, a marshal carried a stack of orange traffic cones under one arm, walking along the edge of the circuit.
“Definitely not,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t a good person back then, either.”
That surprised Yeonjun.
He turned fully towards you. “What makes you say that?”
“I was prejudiced and proud,” you said with a shrug. “Probably still am, if I’m honest. But now I’m at least trying not to stay that way.”
You glanced back at him, and Yeonjun found himself smiling again.
He liked hearing that being good wasn’t a destination you eventually arrived at, but something you kept moving towards. That sounded promising.
“Hm.” He folded his arms against the breeze. “I always thought it was more permanent. Like—”
“Choi Yeonjun!”
You both flinched.
Instinctively, you looked downhill. Below, one of the race officials stood outside a portable office, one hand planted on top of his bald head as though holding it on against the wind.
“Yeah?” Yeonjun shouted back.
“Come down here for a sec, would you?” the official bellowed. “The bloody computers have all frozen again. Sorry!”
Yeonjun sighed. “Yeah—coming!”
He looked sideways at you. There was an apology already settled into his face.
“Go on.” You nodded towards the increasingly distressed man below. “Didn’t realise you were IT, though.”
“Oh—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m everything here.”
You smiled. “Well, go ahead, then. Save the world.”
He held out his hand.
“Come with me,” he said, nodding towards the slope. “Let’s get you down first.”
You glanced downhill. From here, it didn’t look especially intimidating. Granted, the climb up had left your calves tense, but that’s typical for hills as you knew them. Always easier to get down.
“I can walk,” you said.
“I’m sure.” His smile deepened. “Let me help anyway. Since it’s on my way.”
Your eyes dropped to his outstretched hand.
You realised, with a faint hitch in your breath, that you couldn’t refuse him. Never had before, and still couldn’t.
“Fine.” You slipped your hand into his. His fingers were warm as they closed around yours. Your chest was, too. “Let’s go.”
His grip tightened for half a second. Then, without another word, he launched himself downhill at full speed.
You gasped, stomach lurching as you stumbled after him, your trainers skidding across flattened grass before you found your footing again. An involuntary laugh burst from your chest.
Yeonjun darted around a patch of mud without warning, tugging you after him so abruptly that your shoulder bumped hard against his.
“Yeonjun, for fuck’s—”
“Y’alright, love?”
You tightened your grip on his hand and swatted his shoulder without stopping. He laughed so hard that he missed the low-hanging tree branches. His jacket sleeve caught on them, yanking him half off balance.
Stumbling backwards, he instinctively caught you with his free hand, steadying you both.
“You’re such a—such a shithead,” you puffed, dropping his hand as the ground finally levelled under your feet. Your heart was still pounding. “Could’ve warned me.”
Yeonjun bent slightly to catch his breath. He was still laughing.
“For the record,” you added, shooting him a look, “I don’t think you’re a very good person right now.”
Naturally, that made him laugh even harder.
When he finally looked up and saw the grass clinging to the legs of your jeans, the loose strands of hair plastered across your face, and the reluctant smile you couldn’t smother, he almost wanted to drag you back up the hill just so he could race down it with you again.
“M’really sorry about this.” He didn’t mean the hill. “I’ll be right back soon, though. I swear.”
You planted your hands on your hips while your lungs tried to accept a proper breath.
“Take your time.” You inhaled slowly. “I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Not climbing any more hills.”
Already about to walk away, he suddenly pulled back. His eyes were practically sparkling.
“What if it’s a smaller one, though?” he asked.
“No.”
“But what if I asked you to climb it with me really, really nicely?”
“No.”
“What if I gave you some sweets for it—”
You found yourself laughing again. “Go, Jun! Jesus. You’ve got work.”
Laughing and promising five minutes one last time, Yeonjun reached out to squeeze your arm and finally jogged across the gravel to find his team.
✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 10, 2026. 5 PM
Yeonjun’s five minutes quickly became ten, then thirty.
Surprisingly, you found you didn’t mind it all that much.
After walking along the pit lane, you discovered the food stalls behind the grandstands. One battered caravan had a queue trailing halfway back towards the paddock. Its white paint was peeling, the faded stickers coated in a thin film of grease. It looked as though it had been parked here longer than you’d been alive.
You soon understood why the queue had been so long – the hot dogs were fantastic. The bread was warm enough to send up steam on the first bite, and the pickles actually had flavour to them. You made a mental note to tell Yeonjun this should be the first stop of his tour when he brought someone here for the first time.
The only draining part of being here on your own, predictably, turned out to be the men.
It started pleasantly enough: a middle-aged man asked if you’d been here before. He was friendly and genuinely welcoming about it; even complimented your choice in hot dogs.
The second man caught up to you by the toilets and began explaining Qualifying to you before you’d even worked out why he was talking to you in the first place.
By the third (and fourth and fifth) man, the conversations had turned to the classic, could I get your number?
You declined each time with a polite smile. They smiled back and asked again, usually with a come on, sometimes with a don’t be like that.
By the time one of them asked whether you lived nearby, your smile felt more like a grimace.
“Sorry,” you said at last. “I’ve got a boyfriend.”
That didn’t work, either; something about a goalpost having a goalkeeper.
You hadn’t realised women were goalposts now, but you were not above taking a penalty kick at the next man’s head.
Eventually, though, once you’d repeated the boyfriend spell three more times, they decided to leave you alone, mumbling under their breath about who they thought you were. You had half a mind to hold yourself back, mostly out of respect for Yeonjun, who’d have had to be the one to bail you out of jail.
You retreated to the grandstands overlooking the track. Halfway up, you could see almost everything and spot anyone approaching long before they reached you.
Below, the cars had taken their places on the grid. Mechanics still moved between them, wheeling toolboxes across the tarmac. To your surprise, Yeonjun was back, and already pounding up the grandstand steps on the left, taking three at a time.
By the time he reached you, a sheen of sweat clung to his forehead. He dropped onto the bench beside you with a heavy exhale.
“God, I’m so—” He sucked in a breath. “—so sorry. Wasn’t expecting that to take so fucking long.”
“Don’t worry about it,” you said, lifting the empty polystyrene tray balanced on your knees. “I’m fine here. The food’s great.”
Yeonjun looked down at the tray.
“You got a hot dog without me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He heaved another exhale. “Wow. Don’t know if I can forgive that.”
“And it was great, too. The pickles were excellent.”
“Oh,” he attempted a scowl, “were they?”
You grinned. “Did you get everything sorted?”
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Yeah, eventually.”
Nodding, you turned back towards the track. It was surprisingly warm here; you were considering losing your jacket.
“Uh,” Yeonjun said. You glanced at him again. “Actually, for the last twenty or so minutes, I’ve been in there,” he pointed over his shoulder towards one of the portable offices, “listening to my engineers discuss you.”
Your eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“Yes,” he said. “And your boyfriend. How—how’d that happen in the time that I was gone?”
You groaned, tipping your head back against the aluminium bench.
Yeonjun wasn’t sure what to make of the sound. You looked uncomfortable, which made something in his stomach tighten, almost painfully. He shouldn’t have been gone this long.
Then it suddenly occurred to him that, despite everything that had happened over the past few weeks, you might’ve actually been seeing someone. The kiss at Reina and Soobin’s engagement party hadn’t necessarily proved anything—people kissed people they shouldn’t all the time.
He thought it would’ve made sense. You were you, after all. Beautiful and smart and caring and kind and funny, and he’d sit here, staring at his shoes, all night if he kept going.
“I lied to get rid of the idiots you work with,” you said eventually, some of the irritation still clinging to your voice. “No one taught them how to take no for an answer, apparently. Obviously m’not actually dating anyone.”
Beside you, Yeonjun plucked a speck of lint from his trousers. “Why, um—why obviously?”
You turned to him, puzzled by his puzzlement.
“Why would I decide to be friends with you,” you said, “and then immediately go off and date someone else?”
A sharp current climbed Yeonjun’s spine. Every thought in his head scattered at once, like a startled murder of crows. Or pigeons. Or sparrows, those were fidgety—
And he was thinking about fucking birds now.
“Does that—” He abandoned the sentence and tried again. “W-what does that mean?”
You’d expected the question. The moment you said the words, you knew they’d sounded larger than you’d meant.
“I don’t know,” you said, returning your gaze to the track below. “Means exactly what I said.”
Beside you, Yeonjun shifted closer to the edge of the bench. He could only see your profile from here; the wind kept sweeping strands of hair across your cheek, then dropping them again.
Stupid.
He wouldn’t have dropped them.
“It sounded,” he said carefully, “like you were saying you’d date me, if you could date anyone.”
You lifted one shoulder. “Suppose it did.”
His stomach lurched so violently that he worried he was about to be sick. That would definitely impress you.
“Is—” His voice almost disappeared. “—is that what you meant?”
You met his eyes, and Yeonjun physically felt his throat dry.
“It is,” you said.
There was no promise in your words, only the simple truth of it: it is.
If choosing someone had been as simple as wanting them, you’d have chosen him.
Yeonjun looked away. His fingers began tapping against his knees without him noticing. Below, the engineers gathered their equipment and stepped away from the cars. Someone, he knew, would come looking for him soon.
He didn’t think about that.
Instead, he thought about every joke he’d ever made over the years. Thought about the bet. About every time he’d wrapped the truth in humour and games, because it felt safer that way.
If there’s no beginning, Soobin had once summarised it for him, there’s no end.
You were protecting yourself from that version of him now.
He realised he was protecting himself, too.
There could be a beginning now. And there could be an end.
And if there was an end, there would be no friendship left for the two of you to fall back on. There’d be nothing.
“Does—does this work, then, do you think?” he asked after a long minute. “Us being friends.”
The wind picked up around you, nearly stealing his words. Down the grid, the yellow flags fluttered, snapping softly against their poles.
“I don’t know,” you said. “Think we’re trying our best, all things considered.”
Yeonjun smiled.
He thought that sounded a bit like a journey as well, just like being a good person, and decided he quite liked that. Quite liked that there were things to consider, too.
“Alright.” He stretched his legs onto the row below and exhaled some of the heaviness in his chest. “So, since we’re trying our best, yeah? You should start telling me everything you tell Reina.”
You turned to him with a scoff, then looked away the moment he started laughing.
“I don’t tell anyone what I tell Reina.”
“Ah.” He slapped a palm dramatically against his thigh. “Well, then m’afraid we’ll never reach our full friendship potential.”
You turned sideways on the bench, tucking one leg under yourself. Your jeans lifted over your ankles.
“There’re layers to this, though,” you said. “Reina is Reina. No one else gets to be her.” You pointed at him. “You’re Yeonjun.”
His grin widened. “Oh, thanks for reminding me, love. Knew I shouldn’t have wandered so far from the psych ward agai—”
“Alright, tone it down.” You rolled your eyes, but he’d already caught the smile threatening your lips. “M’saying our friendship is naturally different.”
“Different how?”
“Well…” You tugged your white sock a little higher where it had slipped beneath the hem of your jeans. “Okay. Do you think Soobin and I are the same?”
He was already shaking his head before you’d even finished the question. “Definitely not.”
“Am I less of a friend to you, then?”
His gaze drifted towards the woods beyond the circuit.
You weren’t less, he thought, but you weren’t more, either. You just sort of were; an entire category of your own.
“Alright,” he conceded anyway. “You’re not.”
You spread your hands in humble triumph. “There you go, then.”
“Right.” He stared into the middle distance for another second. “There I go, then. Yeah. ‘Course.”
You dropped your hands back into your lap. “What now?”
A smile tugged at one corner of his lips as his gaze returned to the cars below.
“Nothing,” he said. “Was just thinking how offended you looked when you said you obviously wouldn’t date anyone else.”
He gave you a profoundly meaningful look—just to get you to roll your eyes. To his immense pleasure, you did.
“If you’re planning to keep bringing that up,” you said, “I might ask one of your drivers out purely out of spite.”
“No, but you couldn’t.” He leaned back against the bench, watching you from the corner of his eye. “Why would you turn me down and then date someone else?”
You clicked your tongue and let your gaze follow the last of the rain clouds as they slowly broke apart above the circuit.
You should’ve expected this, really. It was the chocolate syrup all over again.
“M’questioning my life choices every day with you,” you mumbled.
His laughter rang out across the rows of benches. “You should be.”
You refused to look back at him, despite the weight of his gaze pressing against the side of your face.
Below, the pit lane quieted for just a second. The mechanics hurried back into the garages. Drivers lowered their helmet visors. One by one, the engines roared into life until the vibration climbed up through the stands.
Beside you, Yeonjun drew a long breath.
“Duty calls?” you asked, nodding ahead.
His gaze shifted down towards the garages.
Maybe he should just quit. He was starting to have fun with this conversation and planned to bring up your magical apricots soon.
“It does.” There was reluctance in his voice as he stood, brushing a hand down his trousers. “Come with me?”
You finally looked up. “Where?”
He tipped his head towards the row of portable offices. “Inside.”
You followed his gaze. There were hardly any people in the pit lane now.
“Can I do that?” you asked.
“Have you lost your ability to walk?”
You stared at him. “I meant, am I allowed?”
He waved the question off before holding out his hand.
“I decide what’s allowed,” he said. “And I want you with me.”
Trying to control your pulse, you failed to control the smile on your lips. Your hand lifted to his, almost instinctive by now.
“So entitled,” you muttered, gathering your empty tray.
“Mhmm.” He pulled you to your feet. “You get special treatment when you’re here with me. Don’t forget that.”
“Oh, wouldn’t dream of it.” You matched his pace down the steps. “How will I ever express my overwhelming gratitude?”
He grinned at you over his shoulder. “You think about that, love.”
✦ • ─── SEPTEMBER 10, 2026. 8:30 PM
Yeonjun’s team didn’t do so bad in the end—they finished second-to-last, which, according to what the other engineers told you, counted as a respectable result for a team whose drivers had spent most of the race ‘eating shit.’
Very satisfied with the day he’d personally had, Yeonjun pulled you back to the Mercedes, insisting the two of you ate something proper. His original plan had been to stop at some place near the circuit, but the thought of Violet being alone for too long sent you back to the flats instead. You picked up takeaway on the way.
Violet, as it turned out, was still perfectly fine without you. Curled into a neat brown-and-white ball on the sofa, she barely acknowledged the creak of your front door. She only lifted her head to meow irritably at the volume of your voices—she’d been having a perfectly pleasant evening until the pair of you barged in.
“Sorry, little one,” you murmured, approaching her while Yeonjun balanced the stack of takeaway containers against one hip. “Ready to go home?”
The plan was to eat at his, so the cat would remember where home is. Your job was to transport said cat.
Chirping faintly, Violet allowed you to carry her downstairs and remained limp against your chest while Yeonjun fumbled for his keys with one hand. She weighed more than she looked, and you had to pause halfway down to adjust your arms around her.
“The one bloke on your team who just decided to brake halfway down the straight,” you continued, picking up the earlier topic, “is my Driver of the Day. Whatever’s his problem?”
Yeonjun snorted, holding the door open for you.
You stepped inside. Violet finally raised her head from your arms, blinking lazily at the dimness of his flat.
“Told you my team’s shit,” Yeonjun said, nudging the door shut behind him with his heel. “He told us he was setting up for the chicane. Was nowhere near the apex, but who are we to question his artistic interpretation.”
You snickered as you set Violet onto the floor. The instant her paws met the tile, she marched straight for her water bowl as though you’d left her parched for a week.
“His gearbox’s been fucked for weeks,” Yeonjun went on from the kitchen. “We finally fixed it, and now he’s braking for corners that aren’t anywhere near him.”
“Keeping you on your toes, then.”
“Always is, yeah.”
While he unpacked the takeaway across the kitchen island, you dropped your backpack to the floor and searched for a spot to leave your jacket. There still wasn’t anywhere. Without the mattresses occupying half the living room, the flat echoed around you again.
“You know,” you said, folding the jacket over your arm, “I remember how you’d filled the entire stairwell with boxes when you were moving in. Yet your flat’s empty.”
Yeonjun smiled to himself, setting down paper-wrapped chopsticks on the island. “That was mostly clothes. Some books. It’s all here.”
“Mhmm. Thoughts on furnishing this place properly as our next shared activity?”
Snorting, he relieved you of your jacket and draped it over the back of one of the stools.
“D’you reckon I need more pillows?” he asked.
“Sure. A few mattresses, to even out the number, too.”
He laughed at that.
To be fair, he didn’t think his flat was quite as empty as you insisted. It didn’t have much furniture, that was true, but it had you in it.
“Well, we could do that, but m’not in a rush.” He gestured ahead. “Already got everything I need anyway.”
You missed the look in his eyes as you glanced around again.
Everything he needed, you noted, seemed to be the twenty-odd mattresses stacked in the corridor outside his bedroom, a bed, a piano, several chairs, a kitchen, and a fern.
The large pink bear from the arcade sat propped against a carton of orange juice in the middle of the kitchen island, too, its arms splayed out. You pretended not to see it.
“Hmm. Least the fern’s doing alright.” You nodded towards the window. “Even in your cave.”
“Yes, I set an alarm on my phone to water it,” he said, peeling the lids off the food containers. “Due diligence.”
“Ah, very responsible of you.”
“I know, yes.”
Steam rose off the kitchen island as you helped lift the remaining lids, inhaling the rich scent of garlic and soy sauce. Your stomach immediately reminded you just how little the hot dog from earlier had accomplished.
Yeonjun turned back to the drawers for cutlery.
“Hasn’t improved the ambience much, though,” he muttered, gesturing at the fern with one of the spoons. “But the bear’s done miracles.”
“Well.” You continued to ignore the bear. “One plant can only do so much. And with those curtains—I mean, Batcave is ambience, too, technically, but, uh…”
Yeonjun laughed, setting the spoons and knives down on the island before unwrapping the chopsticks.
“Got a piano here, too.” He nodded towards his room. “This is an open, creative space.”
“Oh, s’right.” You looked over at the polished lid of the instrument, its edges catching the warm kitchen light. “I, uh—I heard you playing the other day, actually.”
That surprised him. Then he remembered how thin the walls between the flats were, and what surprised him instead was how self-conscious that made him feel.
“Yeah?” He turned to toss the packaging into the bin under the sink. “Sorry if it was—”
“I didn’t mind it,” you cut in. “Couldn’t work out what you were playing, though.”
“Chopin, I think.” He returned to the island. “Been thinking about him the past few days. Wanted to see if I still remembered the Raindrop Prelude.”
“Sounded like you did.”
His smile returned, quieter.
Together, you divided the dumplings between two plates and settled onto the stools at the island. The food was still far too hot, but that didn’t stop either of you.
You bit into a dumpling straight away and hissed through your teeth as the filling spread across your tongue. The meat was worth the suffering: spicy, rich with garlic and ginger, tender enough to fall apart as it burned the roof of your mouth.
“W-where’d it come from?” you managed, lifting a hand over your mouth while you tried to swallow. “The Chopin piece.”
“Oh.” He finished chewing first, breathing heavily through his nose. “I—shit, s’hot—I made Alain teach it to me after I heard it in the Halo 3 trailer.”
You looked up. “Halo—the video game?”
“Yes.”
You stared at him for another second before lowering your gaze back to your plate.
“Alright,” you said. “Can’t say that’s where I’d expect anyone to discover anything by Chopin, but if it works, it works.”
Grinning, Yeonjun reached for another dumpling. He blew on it a few times, which did nothing whatsoever, and stuffed it into his mouth.
Trying not to smile at his bulging cheeks, you blew thoughtfully onto your own dumpling and took a slow bite.
“So, then.” You reached for a paper napkin by the bear’s leg as you finished chewing. “You said you play when you’re in a good mood.”
Yeonjun met your eyes for less than a moment, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Yeah,” he said, picking up his chopsticks. “Usually.”
You nodded quietly.
It was comforting, for reasons you couldn’t explain to yourself, to know that the music drifting through your floorboards was proof he was happy.
“S’a little strange, I guess,” he said after a moment, turning his chopsticks slowly between his fingers. “Never thought I’d willingly touch the piano again. But recently, if I’ve had a decent day, I kept remembering pieces I learnt years ago. Then I end up sitting down just to see if I still remember them right.”
You looked back at the piano. It was easy to picture him there, on quiet evenings, playing fragments that refused to leave him alone.
“That’s still crazy to me,” you said, “that you know some of those pieces by heart.”
His smile softened.
“Just bits of them,” he said. “Not the whole thing. Usually my favourite parts.”
“I’d love to hear them.”
He looked up at you, half-convinced you were teasing.
“We—we’d be here all night,” he said.
You reached for your phone in the back pocket of your jeans, angling the screen towards yourself to check the time.
Across the island, Yeonjun forgot about the dumplings or the carton of noodles beside his plate.
“I’ve got lunch with Reina tomorrow,” you said, “but after that, I haven’t got anything important.”
“No class on Fridays?”
“I said nothing important.”
Yeonjun stared at you as you locked the screen and slipped the phone back into your pocket. Then a grin spread across his face, so bright that it seemed to light up the whole flat.
“You’d skip class for me?” he asked, voice climbing half an octave. He’d stopped bothering to care about his dignity.
“For the music,” you corrected. “Seeing as you’re the prodigy here.”
He placed one hand dramatically against his chest. “Oh, wow. We’ve come so far.”
You snorted and picked up your own carton of noodles. Steam still rose above it.
You wouldn’t argue. You had come far.
“I’ll play for you,” Yeonjun decided, pointing a chopstick at you, his eyes faintly narrowed. “But I’m expecting something in return.”
You lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, tit for tat, is that it?”
His grin returned. “Sure. Been doing all these favours for you, after all.”
“What favours?”
“Got to experience a professional race,” he said, “and now you’re in the presence of a highly skilled piano player.”
Scoffing, you scooped up a mouthful of noodles and chewed for a thoughtful second. They were thicker than you were used to, but pleasantly chewy.
“Alright.” You swallowed. “Appreciate all that you’ve done for me. Let’s negotiate.”
Yeonjun did his best to arrange his face into something reasonable.
“Help me get ready for my birthday,” he said.
You lowered the noodle carton onto the island. “What’d you need help with? Thought you said it’ll be casual.”
“Yeah, but...” He reached for his phone in his back pocket. “I booked that club, but it’s, uh—empty.”
After unlocking the screen, he opened his gallery and placed the phone between the takeaway containers. Photographs of the venue filled the screen: tall dark timber walls, grey concrete floors.
“Needs decorating?” you said.
“Yeah.” He pinched to zoom in on the decorative moulding running along one wall. “S’not bad as is, but needs—balloons? Or something that looks cool, but isn’t too over the top.”
You smiled. “Don’t want people to think you tried too hard, yeah?”
“Precisely, yes.”
He picked his noodle carton back up and slurped down another mouthful while you continued studying the photographs. He hoped you wouldn’t swipe too far and find the screenshots of the photos he’d saved from Reina and Soobin’s engagement party.
“Alright,” you said, pushing the phone back towards him. He reached out to lock it. “I can help with that.”
“Good,” he said and swallowed the noodles. “S’a deal, then.”
He extended one chopstick across the island. You regarded it for a second, then laughed under your breath and tapped your own against it.
Violet returned as the two of you resumed eating.
Yeonjun had mentioned on the drive home that she usually fled the kitchen whenever he made ramen—something about the scent of soy sauce that she found objectionable—but tonight curiosity seemed to outweigh her standards.
With one effortless leap, she landed on the island between you, her nose twitching. She wound her tail around the pink bear’s neck as she inspected the empty plate of dumplings, then his carton of noodles. Realising she did not have a designated plate here, she lifted her head to look directly at Yeonjun: explain yourself.
He slurped down the noodles.
“Already gave you enough today, love,” he mumbled, reaching out his free hand to scratch her neck. “You know there’s a limit to the treats.”
Violet lifted her chin just a little higher to guide his fingers to her favourite spot. She did not think there should’ve been a limit to the treats.
“Told my mum about her, by the way,” he added. Violet tipped her head, seemingly confirming it. “Earlier today.”
You looked up from your noodles. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Wasn’t as bad as I expected, actually.” He rested the chopsticks across the edge of the carton. “She rang this morning, said she was working nearby and wanted to grab a coffee. I told her to come over instead, but warned her I’d got a cat.” He scratched absently at the side of his left wrist. “Thought she’d change her mind, but she actually came.”
“Oh, wow.”
“Yeah.” He snickered. “Got cat hair all over her coat, but only complained about it after I’d shut the door. Heard her out in the corridor, going, oh, for God’s sake.”
There was a smile pulling at his mouth that made you smile back, almost on reflex.
“She wasn’t a big fan of the building, either,” he continued. “Said she thought it’d been bulldozed years ago.”
You sucked your lips in. “Yeah, even my grandad’s not a fan of this building.”
Yeonjun laughed properly. Violet gave his chopsticks a cautious sniff.
“Hopefully she liked the coffee, at least,” you said.
He nodded. “Yeah, my dad actually texted me later, said Mum told him I make great cappuccinos. Apparently, that surprised her.”
Your smile returned. “Should’ve had her try one of your pies.”
A soft glimmer appeared in his eyes. “Shit—yeah. Maybe next time.”
“Mhmm.” You lowered your gaze to the cat. “M’sure Violet left a good impression in the meantime.”
Violet turned her blue eyes towards you at the sound of her name. You reached over to stroke the soft fur between her ears. She immediately leaned into your hand.
“Yeah.” Yeonjun watched her for a second. “Doubt Mum will be rushing to come back again, but, uh—no lectures about how unhygienic animals are, so I’ll take it.”
In the middle of allowing Violet to inspect your chopsticks, you realised you’d never once minded animals and their hygiene invading your personal space; not even when the chickens back at the farm—especially Eugenie and Camille—would sit down on your still-warm laptop out in the garden.
“Oh.” A quick laugh escaped you. “She’d hate my grandparents’ farm.”
Yeonjun snorted. He didn’t need to picture it; he knew that not a single Horseman of the Apocalypse could’ve persuaded his mother to set foot outside a big city.
When he’d been little, just driving past fields on the motorway had been enough. She’d spot cows through the window and physically lean away from the glass, as though they might somehow cross three lanes of traffic and contaminate her Maybach.
“She definitely would,” he said. “But she’s not the one going. Unless, uh—unless you’ve changed your mind about taking me?”
The laughter settled.
“Why would I?” you replied.
His eyes dropped to the countertop.
His uncertainty surprised him, too. He hadn’t realised, until the question had already slipped out, that some part of him feared that if he took your invitation for granted, the universe might notice it and take it back.
You recognised that particular tone of fear in his voice anyway; you’d heard it on the last night at his old house.
“I haven’t changed my mind,” you said after he didn’t speak.
He looked back up.
“Okay.” His shoulders loosened a touch. “Good.”
You traced a fingertip around the rim of your noodle carton.
“Was it nice, then?” you asked. “Having your mum over?”
Yeonjun leaned back against the stool, crossing one ankle over the other.
“Nice has never been the word I’d use about her,” he said, smiling despite himself. “But, uh—she did laugh when I told her about the mattresses.”
You smiled, too. “She did?”
“Yeah. Well, it’s Soobin’s fault I’ve got them anyway, and she’s always liked him.”
“That still sounds like progress.”
“Yeah, hope so.” He tapped his fingers lightly against the island. “She, uh—she asked about you as well, actually.”
He’d said the words softly, but your stomach tightened all the same. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His gaze dropped to the takeaway containers between you. “Told her we’re friends, and that that’s new for us. She said she’d assumed we’d always been friends.”
You raised both eyebrows, then snorted before you could stop yourself.
“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpanned. “Close as siblings, us two.”
Yeonjun laughed. Violet’s ears flicked towards him. Abandoning your chopsticks, she padded back towards his side of the island instead.
“Right, yeah.” He shook his head, giving the cat a smile. “In any case, I didn’t tell her we’re neighbours, too.”
“Still don’t trust her?”
“Not yet.”
“Hmm.”
He offered Violet the back of his hand. She sniffed it, considered him for a second, then decided she had more pressing matters elsewhere and hopped gracefully down onto the floor.
“She looks like she’s trying,” Yeonjun said, watching the space Violet had just vacated, “but I don’t want to push my luck.”
“That’s, uh—” you searched for the word without looking at him, “—reasonable.”
Yeonjun sensed there was something uncomfortable in the kitchen with the two of you now, and it wasn’t Violet padding with solemn purpose towards the litter tray in the corridor.
He shifted on the stool, rubbing a thumb over the edge of the marble island. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned his mother; she had a remarkable ability to sour a room without ever stepping into it.
“Um.” His hand wandered to the back of his neck. “That’s not to say that, uh—I don’t want it to sound like you’re some dirty little secret, or anything like that. I just figure this isn’t any of her business.”
You glanced up, suddenly amused by the phrasing.
“Shit.” You tilted your head. “Am I not your dirty little secret anymore?”
He pressed his lips together.
“No, no,” he said. “Those days are over. We’re public knowledge now.”
“Oh, wow.” You matched his exaggeratedly grave tone, though your pulse had quietly picked up. “Should I start expecting paparazzi outside my flat?”
“Please.” He waved the idea off. “S’over as well. We’ve become dull, haven’t you noticed?”
“No more tabloid headlines?”
He pretended to consider it. “Well, ‘Former Rivals Share Noodles’ sounds like a tiring read, I think.”
Your nose scrunched.
Yeonjun thought that looked incredibly endearing on you and wanted to suggest several more headlines to see you do it again.
“Because that’s awful,” you said. “Makes it sound like we’d been in a rap battle at some point before.”
“I’d have won that, too,” he said, “if we had been.”
“Too?” You folded your arms. “What else have you won?”
“Well, most things against you, really.” He shrugged, careless. “But the competition, admittedly, wasn’t fair, since I’m obviously naturally gifted at everything.”
You stared at him for a long second. Then you shook your head, more fondly than you’d intended to let show.
“I’d almost forgotten how arrogant you are,” you said.
“One of my finer qualities, I’ve heard.”
“Mhmm. How’re you so full of fine qualities and still single?”
He grinned, a challenge sparking in his eyes. “Want to play a game and see why?”
You scoffed. “Yeah? For two weeks?”
“Of course.”
You made a show of thinking about it, one finger tapping against your pursed lips.
“Eh.” Your wrist flicked dismissively through the air. “No, thanks.”
Yeonjun clicked his tongue.
“Okay, see—” He uncrossed his ankles. “—my dirty little secret never would’ve refused.”
“Your dirty little secret didn’t know any better.”
His smile widened automatically. Then, just as quickly, it faltered.
His thoughts returned to your balcony—to every question you’d asked him, every answer he’d given, and all the questions he hadn’t found the courage to ask in return.
Slowly, he met your eyes. “Do you regret it?”
“The bet?”
“Yeah.”
Your gaze fell to the marble countertop. Grey veins wandered through the stone, almost like rivers on a map. Without thinking, your fingertip began tracing one of them until it disappeared under the carton of noodles; then you found another one.
There had never, you realised, been a version of your life in which you wished you hadn’t met him. You’d wished for countless other things instead. That the bet hadn’t ended. That he’d trusted you. That he’d stayed.
“No,” you said.
The knot in Yeonjun’s chest let go, all at once. Only then did he notice how tightly his fingers had been laced together. He laid both palms flat against the warm stone of the island.
“No?” he repeated.
You lifted your eyes again. “No. Wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the bet.”
The relief he felt was dangerous. It brought hope with it, along with the memory of the way you’d looked at him earlier, when you’d said you wouldn’t date anyone else.
“That, uh…” He swallowed. “That almost sounds like you’re glad we’re here.”
Your gaze dropped again.
Violet emerged from the corridor, wearing a contemplative expression. She sat down in the bedroom doorway with her back turned to you both.
“Well.” You nodded towards her. “Meeting Violet’s been the highlight of my year. Very happy she’s here.”
Yeonjun’s expression skipped straight past surprise and landed in theatrical outrage. He let out a generous scoff.
Your laughter bounced softly off the bare walls. He rolled his eyes at it, but quietly memorised the sound anyway—for the next evening he sat at the piano. And for every evening after that.
“Right.” He clicked his tongue, pointing vaguely between you and himself. “Let’s ignore the elephant in the room, then.”
“You’re the elephant, are you?”
“Obviously.” The wounded dignity in his voice set you off laughing again. “Are you not happy I’m here?”
You watched him for a long moment, your smile softening at the corners.
“I’m happy,” you said, “that you’re very resilient.”
“Thanks. That’s very—” He frowned. “How’d you mean?”
Your fingertip found the same grey line on the marbletop and followed its winding course once more.
“I, uh…” The marble felt warm under your finger. “I seem to have spent quite a lot of time pushing you away.” You glanced up. “Yet here we are.”
Yeonjun couldn’t remember the last time you’d looked at him like that: this openly, this warmly. Couldn’t remember the last time his chest had responded this way, either: with enough force to pull him forwards before he’d even realised he’d leaned over the island.
“Did you actually want me to leave you alone?” he asked.
“I think I did in the beginning,” you admitted. “Every time I snapped back at one of your stupid comments back in uni, I’d think to myself, right, that’ll do it. He’ll piss off now. But you wouldn’t. And you wouldn’t, and you wouldn’t.” Your thumb brushed idly across the edge of the stone. “And then, I think, uh—somewhere along the way, I stopped waiting for you to leave me alone. Started hoping you wouldn’t again.”
Yeonjun stopped moving altogether. Breathing struck him as unnecessary, too.
“That—” he started and realised he didn’t have enough air in his lungs to finish. He drew a hurried breath and tried again: “T-that’s terrible of you. Enjoying the chase as much as I was.”
He clicked his tongue in exaggerated disappointment.
Your laugh was warmer this time. “Mhmm. Doomed from the start.”
Outside, a gust of wind rattled the balcony doors. For a moment, it seemed intent on being let inside, on joining in. Then it hurried on.
“Don’t know if that even makes sense, actually,” you admitted.
Yeonjun looked almost offensively delighted. “I like that it doesn’t.”
You raised your eyebrows. “You like not making sense?”
“I like that you don’t know what it is about you that’s kept me around.” He propped his chin on his palms. “Means you’re still trying to work it out, and who knows how long that’ll take. I’m your longest-running research project.”
Despite yourself, you laughed again. “You’re my longest headache.”
Yeonjun accepted that with pride.
“D’you think we’d still have ended up in the same building,” he asked, “if there’d been no bet? No New York, no nothing?”
You glanced towards Violet, now asleep in the doorway of his bedroom. Then to the heavy curtains on his windows, no longer crooked, and finally to the lonely fern in the corner.
There was a chance, you had to admit, that if university had gone differently and your lives had never once tangled together, you would’ve still met on that Monday morning, when Yeonjun had been wrestling his window loudly enough to disturb at least three floors, yet somehow only bothering you.
“We might’ve,” you admitted.
“I think so, too,” he said. “Clearly, we’re destined to keep running into each other.”
You frowned. “This is the first time we’ve run into each other.”
He shook his head firmly. “No, starting uni counts, too. We’d both dropped out and ended up studying Sociology. How’s that not destiny?”
You rolled your eyes, yet the smile tugging at your lips refused to leave.
You’d never really believed in destiny, if you were honest. But you’d always wanted to.
“Right, yeah.” You leaned back on the stool. “All written in the stars, then, is it?”
He nodded again, with complete conviction. “Star-crossed enemies.”
You winced, and this time the scrunch of your nose nearly made him vault straight over the kitchen island.
“Christ,” you mumbled. “And you pull out the most embarrassing phrases out of nowhere. I’d forgotten that, too.”
Yeonjun laughed.
“Yes, I am multi-talented,” he said, running his tongue over his lips. “Remember to keep up, yeah, love?”
You looked at him for a long, defeated second.
You were remembering, he could tell.
Then you returned to your forgotten noodles.
For the rest of that Thursday evening, Yeonjun sat at the piano and played the pieces that he’d carried with him for years. Every now and then he’d strike the wrong note, mutter a quiet fuck under his breath, shake his head, and begin again, refusing to skip over the mistake.
You sat on the edge of his bed with Violet snoring softly across your lap, and listened to all of it: the music and the pauses and his confidence returning with each familiar chord. And as the notes drifted through the flat, you remembered, too – all of it. How to keep up with him, and how it had felt, the first time you’d heard him play, back in Taehyun’s theatre, after the conversation in your old flat about whether you believed he liked you.
You remembered the way his eyes had looked that night, with reflections of the streetlights and the night sky scattered against the dark brown. Remembered, too, the way you’d kissed him in the stairwell. The way you hadn’t wanted him to go once the night was over.
A year and five months had passed between that night and this one.
❪ 永遠に光れ ❫ fluff angst est. secret rs idol!yeonjun x f!idol!reader 1442 cw ノ not explicitly mentioned in the fic but reader implied to be a member of katseye, hybe being shit is canon, feelings of frustration/anger and general secret relationship angst, yeonjun calls reader 'my girl' once, not proofread 〃 ♡ ⸝⸝⸝ i really love this relationship dynamic with yeonjun <3 didnt mention it in the fic but im absolutely headcanoning these two having so many tiktoks filmed where yeonjun goes in for a kiss at the end of the vid cause he cant help himself 🥹 / 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄
Your group is already nearing its second debut anniversary, and by this point, you've collaborated with your boyfriend a lot. Well, you, not really. But your members have. Featuring on his solo album, doing collab stages at the biggest award shows of the year, and countless challenge videos that get millions of views on every single social media platform.
It's been two years of this, and by now, you are sick of it.
You step out of the meeting with your manager and a few higher ups of the company, disappointment crashing over you in waves. Your brain is like a train running at full speed off the side of a cliff, and at this point, you'll let it. You're not really even thinking about where you're headed, but your legs take you right where you want to go anyway.
You could probably walk through the maze of hallways in your sleep at this point. You know the way to TXT's practice room better than you know your own phone password. And you also know Yeonjun's schedule, because if you didn't, you probably wouldn't see the man for several months at a time.
You walk into the practice room unnanounced. You don't need decorum at this point. No one is in it besides your boyfriend, going over the choreography for one of his upcoming performances. You beeline for the couch and flop down on it, curling up on it with your cheek pressed against the cool leather.
You could cry. Maybe. But you don't. In truth, you feel more numb than sad, because by now, you're quite used to this outcome. And so is Yeonjun, but he never seems to take it as hard as you do. But you get it. It isn't as rough on him. He mostly reaps the benefit, not the disappointment of always being pushed to the background—always excluded intentionally.
You know that he also hates this reality. That the company won't let you and him show any amount of interaction to the public, even if your group is heavily associated with him at this point.
"Too much risk."
That was always the excuse. That fans would somehow be able to tell with just one TikTok challenge that you and Yeonjun have been dating for years. There's always a slight sting whenever you're reminded that no one believes you're professional enough to even film a dance challenge with him.
You have a whole folder of them in your phone. Dozens and dozens of videos you've filmed with him, all in hopes that your social media team might approve of just one of them. Of course, it never happened. And in the meeting today you got another piece of disappointing news. Your invite to an upcoming fashion week had been switched out to one of your members instead because Yeonjun would also be in attendance. Apparently you two attending the same event would be the end of the world.
You try not to think about it too much and let your eyes soak up the sight of Yeonjun dancing. He hasn't stopped since you came into the room, but he's smiling at you through the mirror, and it's just enough to make your lips tug up a bit as well. That's always been his effect on you. The ability to make you smile through anything. Through all your rough trainee days and the road to debuting to the pressures of daily idol life, and, of course, the ridiculously excessive decisions of the company.
He supports you through it all the best he can admist his own even busier schedule, and you'll always be eternally grateful for that. You wish you could support him in the same way, but all you can really offer are back massages and the motivation of hugs and kisses. You're not sure it does much, but your boyfriend always tells you that you're the best thing to ever happen to him. You have no choice but to believe him, even though you think he's exaggerating. He always starts pouting if you say otherwise.
By the time the song comes to an end, Yeonjun is already jogging towards you. He seems so full of energy while you're completely deflated. It's ironic. He's the one who has been dancing for over an hour, yet you're the one exhausted just from being stuck in a meeting for thirty minutes.
"Guessing it didn't go well?" he asks as he sits down on the ground next to the couch. You shake your head a little, expression somber. He nods and mumbles a small, "expected."
"I just don't get it," you say quietly. "It's not like I want to declare my love for you to the entire world—"
Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, amused, and you frown.
"Okay, I would declare it if it didn't come with an insane amount of consequences, but that's beside the point. I just want to be able to work with you professionally, like everyone else does. And yeah, maybe I am a bit jealous that I'm not the one to do a sexy dance with you on your solo song, but I would be satisfied with less. Just one TikTok. That's literally all I want. I'd even do some stupid aegyo challenge if it just meant I could upload something with you."
"They're making my girl that desperate, huh?" Yeonjun comments, teasing you. You huff as he rests his chin on his arms, getting just a bit closer to you. "You're adorable, you know."
You try to roll your eyes, but you can barely stop from feeling inexplicably soft from the comment. You love Yeonjun so much, and he adores you just as much. You really wish you didn't have to hide it everyday.
You reach out your left hand to stroke through Yeonjun's hair, craving to feel his skin under your touch.
"I'm sweaty."
"I know and I don't care."
He doesn't fight you on that. You've both seen each other drenched in sweat from practice or after a performancee and still decided to go for a hug or kiss. It might be a little gross, but dating Yeonjun has always forced you to sacrifice some things. You'll take all the hugs you can get, sweaty or not.
"I'm not going to fashion week anymore," you tell him quietly, still stroking his hair. He had leaned into the touch and relaxed completely, but when he hears your words, he tenses and opens his eyes.
"What?"
You've processed it in the fifteen minutes since your meeting ended, so it doesn't hurt as much, but for Yeonjun, who is just hearing of it now, it burns. Your chest starts to ache a little again, not for yourself, but for him this time. You didn't quite expect him to sound so crestfallen about the news.
"I was going to take you to the Eiffel Tower," he says with a pout. Your palm cups his cheek.
"The Eiffel Tower? Really, Jun? You know we can't go on a date like that in public."
"Well we definitely can't now."
You laugh somehow, even though you feel angry inside all over again. It hurts when the company won't let you do the simplest things you want, but when they don't let your boyfriend have what he wants either, your frustration is doubled. There's no real point in being mad, especially not during your precious time with Yeonjun. So you laugh instead, and it earns you a sad smile from your boyfriend.
He crawls onto the couch with you, somehow making enough space for two even though it's cramped. You let yourself relax into his arms and press your cheek against his chest. He's still warm from the hour of dancing, and you can feel the restrained frustration in the way he holds you; as if being in his arms could shield you both from this reality for just a few minutes. And maybe it does a little when you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head and mumble a soft "I love you" into your hair.
It's exhausting to have to fight for it—fight just to be allowed to exist in the same space as him or merely seen next to him by the public eye. You don't know if it will ever change one day or if things will continue to be stuck as they are. Even for the slightest chance of it being different in the future, you won't give up. You won't view it as a waste. Nothing for Yeonjun could ever be a waste in your eyes. He's worth it all.
I’m not gonna lie I’ve been obsessed with the thought of hybrids lately can you make a smut on yeonjun as a fox you found injured and he grew more possessive the longer he was around you
A/N: thank you for your request ! Yeonjun as a fox, what could be better?
It was a rainy night when you first found him. You were walking home from work, umbrella barely holding up against the downpour, when you heard a faint whimper from the alley behind your apartment building. Curiosity got the better of you, and there he was, a fox hybrid, curled up against a dumpster, his fluffy tail matted with mud and blood. His ears twitched weakly, and one of his legs looked twisted, probably from a bad fall or worse, a run-in with some cruel humans.
Hybrids weren't uncommon in the city, but fox ones like him were rare, often mistreated because of their sly reputations. He had striking features: sharp eyes, soft orange fur on his ears and tail, and red hair that fell messily over his forehead. He looked young, maybe in his early twenties, but pain made him seem vulnerable.
"Hey, are you okay?" you whispered, kneeling down. He growled softly at first, baring his teeth, but his eyes, those deep brown eyes, held more fear than fight. You didn't back away. Instead, you pulled off your jacket and wrapped it around him gently. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Let me help."
It took some coaxing, but you managed to get him into your car and to the nearest hybrid clinic. The vet said he'd been hit by a car, nothing fatal but he'd need rest and care. No collar, no owner tag. He was a stray.
When he woke up in the clinic bed, bandaged and groggy, he stared at you like you were some kind of miracle. "Why'd you save me?" His voice was rough, but there was a hint of something soft in it.
You shrugged. "Couldn't just leave you there. I'm Y/N, by the way."
"Yeonjun" he muttered, his tail flicking nervously. "I... don't have anywhere to go."
That was how it started. You offered him your couch for a few nights, just until his leg healed. But days turned into weeks. Yeonjun was charming, in a fox-like way: playful, quick with a smirk, and surprisingly helpful around the apartment. He'd cook simple meals with whatever was in your fridge, his ears perking up at the sound of your laughter. At first, it was easy. You'd come home from work, and he'd be there, lounging on the couch with a book or scrolling on your old tablet, his tail swishing lazily.
"You don't have to do the dishes" you'd say, but he'd insist, flashing that sly grin. "It's the least I can do, human. You saved my life."
He called you "human" like it was a nickname, teasing but affectionate. You didn't mind. In fact, you liked having him around. The apartment felt less lonely with his presence, his soft purrs when he was content, the way his ears flattened when he was focused on something. He healed quickly, hybrids did that, but he didn't leave. "Just a bit longer?" he'd ask, and you'd nod, because why not?
But as weeks stretched into a month, things started to shift. It was subtle at first. Yeonjun began to hover more. If you mentioned going out with friends, his eyes would narrow just a fraction. "Who are you meeting? That guy from work again?" He'd say it casually, but his tail would lash behind him, a telltale sign of agitation.
One evening, you came home late from a casual dinner with coworkers. Yeonjun was waiting by the door, arms crossed, his fox ears pinned back. "You smell like them" he said, his voice low and edged with something you couldn't quite place.
"Them?" You laughed it off, hanging up your coat. "It's just pizza and beer, Yeonjun. No big deal."
He stepped closer, sniffing the air around you, his nose twitching. "I don't like it. Their scents on you." His hand brushed your arm, lingering a second too long. "You're mine to protect, remember? You saved me, so now I'm yours."
You blinked, heart skipping a beat. "Yours? I think you mean I'm helping you out."
He tilted his head, that playful smirk returning, but his eyes were intense. "Same thing."
It didn't stop there. He started marking territory in small ways: leaving his jacket on your chair at work (how he got it there, you didn't ask), or curling up next to you on the couch during movie nights, his tail wrapping around your leg like a claim. If the doorbell rang, he'd growl softly until you assured him it was just delivery.
One weekend, you decided to tidy up the apartment. Yeonjun helped, but when you found an old photo of you with an ex-boyfriend tucked in a drawer, he froze. "Who's this?" he asked, holding it up, his claws extending just a bit, fox instincts kicking in.
"Oh, that's ancient history" you said, taking it from him to toss in the trash. "Don't worry about it."
But he did worry. That night, as you both sat on the balcony watching the city lights, he scooted closer, his head resting on your shoulder. "You don't need anyone else, Y/N. I've got you covered. Hunting, protecting... whatever."
You ruffled his hair, feeling the soft fur of his ears. "You're sweet, but I can handle myself."
His purr rumbled against you, but there was a possessive edge to it. "Not like I can."
As the days went on, his possessiveness grew. He'd follow you to the door every morning, insisting on a hug before you left. "For luck" he'd say, but his grip was tight, like he was afraid you'd vanish. If you got a text from a friend, he'd peek over your shoulder. "What's so funny? Share with me."
It was endearing at first, this fox hybrid's way of showing gratitude. But one evening, after you'd spent the day out shopping alone, you came back to find him pacing the living room. His tail was fluffed up, ears alert.
"Where were you?" he demanded, though he tried to soften it with a smile. "I was worried. The city isn't safe for someone like you."
"Someone like me?" You set down the bags, raising an eyebrow. "Yeonjun, I grew up here. I'm fine."
He closed the distance in a flash, his hands on your shoulders, eyes searching yours. "But you're human. Fragile. And you're mine now. I won't let anything happen to you."
There it was again, that word, "mine." Your stomach fluttered, a mix of warmth and unease. He wasn't wrong; you'd saved him, and now he was woven into your life. But the way his fingers dug in just a little, the intensity in his gaze... it felt like more than protection.
"Yeonjun" you said gently, placing a hand on his chest. "I'm not going anywhere. Relax."
He exhaled, pulling you into a hug, his chin resting on your head. His scent: woodsy and warm, enveloped you. "Good. Because I don't know what I'd do without you."
That night, as you lay in bed, you heard him settle on the couch outside your door, like a guard. Part of you smiled at his loyalty. But another part wondered how deep this possessiveness would go. He was a fox hybrid, after all, cunning, territorial. And you'd let him in.
But his possessiveness? It was ramping up, turning from cute quirks into something intense, almost primal. You'd catch him staring at you across the room, his sharp eyes darkening with unspoken thoughts. And a night, it all came to a head.
You'd gone out for drinks with friends, nothing wild, just a girls' night to unwind after a long week at work. Yeonjun had pouted when you told him, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the kitchen counter. "Do you have to? We could stay in, watch that show you like." His voice had that whiny edge, but his gaze was piercing, like he was memorizing your outfit: the skirt jeans and top that hugged your curves just right.
"I'll be back before midnight" you'd promised, pecking his cheek on your way out. He grabbed your wrist gently, pulling you back for a deeper kiss, his lips lingering, tongue flicking out teasingly. "Be good, human."
The bar was fun, laughter flowing with the cocktails, but your phone buzzed nonstop. Texts from Yeonjun: "Having fun?" "Who is there?" "Miss you already." You replied casually at first, but by the third drink, you silenced it, wanting to enjoy the moment.
When you stumbled through the door around 11:30, the apartment was dimly lit. Yeonjun was on the couch, but he shot up like a spring, his ears perked forward. "You're late." His tone was flat, but his tail swished erratically behind him.
"Only by half an hour" you laughed, kicking off your shoes. The alcohol made you bold, a warm buzz in your veins. "Chill, foxy. I had a good time."
He stepped closer, nostrils flaring as he scented the air. "You smell like smoke and... other people." His hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up. "Did anyone touch you?"
"What? No, it was just girls." You rolled your eyes, but a shiver ran down your spine at his intensity. His thumb brushed your lower lip, and something in his eyes shifted: hunger, raw and unfiltered.
"Good" he murmured, but he didn't let go. Instead, he backed you against the wall, his body pressing close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his tail curling around your thigh possessively. "Because if they did, I'd have to remind you who you belong to."
Your breath hitched. "Yeonjun, you're being ridiculous."
"Am I?" He leaned in, nose grazing your neck, inhaling deeply. A low growl rumbled in his chest. "You've been mine since you picked me up in that alley. I owe you my life. And I'll protect what's mine. No one else gets to have you."
The words sent a thrill through you, mixing with the lingering buzz from the drinks. You'd always found his hybrid traits alluring, the way his ears flattened when he was needy, how his tail betrayed his emotions. But this? This was new territory. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips hard enough to make you gasp.
"Tell me to stop" he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. "If you don't want this."
You didn't. God, you didn't. Instead, you threaded your fingers through his black hair, tugging lightly at the base of his ears. He groaned, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Don't stop."
That was all he needed. Yeonjun's mouth crashed onto yours, fierce and claiming. His kiss was nothing like the playful pecks before, this was desperate, tongues tangling, teeth nipping. He tasted like mint and something wild, his hands roaming under your shirt, claws lightly scratching your back. You arched into him, moaning softly.
"Bedroom" you managed between kisses, and he scooped you up effortlessly, his strength surprising despite his lean frame. He carried you like you weighed nothing, kicking the door shut behind him.
He set you on the bed gently, but his eyes were predatory as he stripped off his shirt, revealing toned abs and the faint scars from his accident. His tail flicked excitedly, brushing the sheets. "You've been driving me crazy, human. Living here, smelling like you, hearing your heartbeat speed up when I get close." He crawled over you, caging you in. "Do you know how hard it's been not to claim you?"
Your heart pounded as he tugged at your top, pulling it over your head. His gaze raked over your exposed skin, pupils dilating. "Beautiful" he breathed, leaning down to trail kisses from your collarbone to your chest. His tongue flicked over your bra, teasing through the fabric, and you whimpered, fingers digging into his shoulders.
"Yeonjun..." You bucked your hips, seeking friction, and he chuckled darkly, pinning you down with one hand.
"Patience, love. Foxes like to play." But his own control was slipping: his ears were pinned back, tail lashing. He unclasped your bra with surprising deftness, tossing it aside. His mouth latched onto your breast, sucking and nipping, while his free hand kneaded the other. Pleasure shot through you, making you wetter by the second.
You reached down, palming him through his pants, and he hissed, thrusting into your hand. "Fuck." He was hard, straining against the fabric. Impatient now, he yanked off your skirt and panties in one go, leaving you bare beneath him.
His eyes darkened further at the sight, a possessive growl escaping. "All mine." He spread your legs, settling between them. His fingers teased your folds, finding you slick and ready. "So wet for me already. Good girl."
You moaned as he slipped a finger inside, then two, curling them expertly. His thumb circled your clit, building pressure fast. "Yeonjun, please..."
"Please what?" He nipped your inner thigh, his fox instincts making him mark you with little love bites. "Tell me what you want."
"You" you gasped, hips grinding against his hand. "Inside me. Now."
He withdrew his fingers, licking them clean with a smirk that made your core clench. "As you wish." He shed his pants, his cock springing free: thick, veined, with a slight curve that promised to hit all the right spots. He stroked himself once, eyes locked on yours, before positioning at your entrance.
He pushed in slowly at first, inch by inch, stretching you deliciously. You both groaned at the sensation, his head falling to your shoulder. "So tight... perfect for me." Once fully seated, he paused, letting you adjust, but his body trembled with restraint.
"Move" you urged, nails scratching down his back.
That snapped something in him. Yeonjun pulled back and thrust in hard, setting a relentless pace. The bed creaked under you, his hips snapping against yours. Each stroke dragged against your walls, his cock filling you completely. "Mine" he growled with every thrust. "Say it."
"Yours" you cried out, legs wrapping around his waist. His tail wrapped around your ankle, holding you in place as he pounded deeper. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping, your moans, his grunts.
He angled his hips, hitting that sweet spot inside you, and stars burst behind your eyes. "Right there, oh god, Yeonjun!"
He smirked through labored breaths, one hand sliding between you to rub your clit. "Come for me, human. Let me feel you."
The coil in your belly tightened, snapping as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You clenched around him, screaming his name, body shaking. He fucked you through it, prolonging your high, before his rhythm faltered.
"Fuck, gonna come." He buried his face in your neck, biting down gently, not enough to break skin, but enough to claim. With a final thrust, he spilled inside you, hot and deep, his purr rumbling as he filled you.
You both lay there, panting, his weight a comforting press. He nuzzled your neck, licking the bite mark soothingly. "Mine" he whispered again, softer this time.
You smiled, stroking his ears. "Yours."
But as you drifted off, tangled in his arms, you couldn't shake the feeling that his possessiveness had just deepened. What started as gratitude was now something fiercer, and you wondered where it would lead next.
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, warming your skin. Yeonjun was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching you with a soft smile. His tail lazily draped over your hip. "Morning, love."
You stretched, wincing at the delicious ache between your legs. "Morning. Last night was..."
"Amazing?" He grinned, leaning in for a kiss. But as you moved to get up, his arm tightened around you. "Where are you going?"
"Just to shower." You laughed, but he didn't let go.
"Not yet. Stay with me a bit." His voice had that possessive edge again, eyes narrowing playfully.
You settled back, letting him pull you close. It was sweet, but over breakfast, it escalated. Your phone buzzed, a text from a coworker about grabbing coffee later. Yeonjun's ears twitched, and he snatched it before you could.
"Who's this?" He read the message, frown deepening.
"A friend from work. Relax." You took the phone back, but he stood, tail fluffing up.
"You're not going."
"Excuse me?" You raised an eyebrow, standing to face him.
He stepped closer, backing you against the counter. "I don't like it. Last night, you came home smelling like others. Today, you're mine, all day."
Heat flared in your core at his words, despite the annoyance. "Yeonjun, you can't control my schedule."
"Can't I?" His hands gripped the counter on either side of you, leaning in. "After what we did? You're marked by me now." He nuzzled your neck, right over the bite, and you shivered.
It was infuriating and arousing all at once. "Fine, but only because I want to" you muttered, though your body betrayed you, pressing against him.
He smirked, knowing he'd won. The day turned lazy: movies on the couch, his head in your lap as you played with his ears. But by afternoon, his touches grew bolder. A hand on your thigh, inching higher. Kisses that lingered too long.
When evening hit, he cooked dinner, but his eyes never left you. "Eat up" he said, sliding a plate over. "You'll need energy."
"For what?" You teased, but he just winked.
After, as you washed dishes, he came up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist. His erection pressed against your ass, hard and insistent. "For this" he murmured, grinding slowly.
You gasped, water splashing. "Yeonjun..."
"Shh." He turned you around, lifting you onto the counter. Dishes forgotten, he kissed you deeply, hands pushing up your skirt. No panties, you'd skipped them that morning, half-expecting this.
His fingers found you wet, and he groaned. "Always ready for me." He dropped to his knees, spreading your legs wide. His tongue delved in without warning, lapping at your folds like a man starved. You gripped his hair, moaning as he sucked your clit, fingers pumping inside.
"Oh fuck, don't stop!" Your head fell back, thighs trembling.
He didn't, eating you out with fox-like fervor, his nose bumping your sensitive bud. The orgasm hit fast, crashing over you as you cried out, coating his tongue.
He stood, lips glistening, and freed his cock. "Turn around" he commanded, voice husky.
You did, bending over the counter. He entered you in one swift thrust, both of you moaning. This angle was deeper, his hands on your hips as he fucked you hard. "Look at you, taking me so well. My perfect human."
The possessiveness fueled the fire. He reached around, rubbing your clit, and you came again, walls fluttering around him. He followed soon after, growling your name as he filled you once more.
That night, in bed, it didn't end. He took you again, slower this time, missionary so he could watch your face. "I love you" he whispered mid-thrust, eyes vulnerable.
in which choi yeonjun keeps trying new hair colour and you simply love him through all of them
alternatively; yeonjun tries to make sense of his own identity while being away from home for the first time while your just trying to graduate in peace
pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader + childhood friends to lovers
wordcount : 8.2k (are we proud)
author's note : this chapter was supposed to be much longer but i relaly liked the way it ended so i already have the next chapter planned ... also can you tell ik jack shit about uni and im also highkey projecting my hate for stem through this reader and im trying to figure out what her major should be so lemme know if you have any ideas
previous . masterlist . next
orange symbolizes warmth, change, and creativity
Yeonjun wanted to curse every teacher who said that university cared about your attendance.
By the third week of his first semester at Yonsei, it became painfully clear that the professors could give less of a fuck whether you showed up or not.
It wouldn’t have been an issue, as Yeonjun was very much willing to skip his 9 am morning lecture on the ethics of corporations, except his teachers had done a great job in drilling into him that if he missed a class he would probably miss something that would alter his brain chemistry.
Yeonjun wanted to drive back to his high school just to yell at his teachers that they were wrong and that nothing has altered his brain chemistry since he came to Yonsei.
Instead, he just sat there, supposedly learning about how Lululemon succeeded despite their racist brand names and foundation while all he really wanted to do was go to bed.
He sighed, it wasn’t even like he had friends in the class yet, considering that everyone here was still trying to gather their bearings.
It was moments like this where Yeonjun missed you the most, it would be so much simpler with you. There would be no awkward small talk, where you’re trying to understand what type of jokes you can say in front of someone, it would just be hidden glances to convey inside jokes or lightly giggling when the other choked on their water.
Yeonjun pouted in his hoodie, he wanted you and your familiarity back.
He wanted it back now, he wanted it to arrive yesterday.
He sighed, not caring if the other two students beside him were rolling their eyes at him. He took his phone out, looking at the teacher drone on and on about some graph in the textbook, and instead chose to open your contact.
It was 9:30 in the morning on a Wednesday morning, and he was stuck in a lecture. However you should be on the way to second period by now, meaning that you probably have time to spare.
After all, grade twelve wasn’t that hard.
Right?
Grade twelve felt like it was made to make you want to smack yourself with your textbook.
Because how else would you explain the overwhelming urge to burn your chemistry and math textbook and forcing your teachers to watch. Preferably while making them to the twenty practice questions that they each wanted to be completed by the end of the day.
You sighed as you grabbed your textbook and walked your way into Chemistry class, not even bothering to greet the teacher like you would have in the previous years and simply opting to sit beside Soobin who was also half-asleep.
You didn't even bother checking your phone after sitting down. Whatever notification was there could wait until after school.
You scoffed lightly, Soobin’s growth spurt over the summer made it so even when he was curled up he was taking the majority of the space on a three person desk.
You took your materials out and took the liberty to poke him with your pencil, right where his shoulder met his arm, knowing that it would hurt most there.
You didn’t say anything when he got up, clutching his arm, instead opting to be the one who lied down on the desk, trying to soothe the burning feeling in your eyes that you got because you were doing your homework until 1:30 last night.
You sighed against the hardcover of your textbook, not having the energy to get up.
You really wished you had prioritised your grades last year, maybe then you wouldn’t be struggling to get good marks to apply to university this year.
You swallowed down the frustration, instead opting to keep your eyes closed for the next three minutes before the teacher started talking again.
It wasn’t until you felt a hand in your hair did you get up, only to realize that instead of you lying down for three minutes, you had fallen asleep for thirty.
You turned to Soobin, whose hand was gently untangling from your hair, “Why the fuck didn’t you wake me up?” you hissed at him.
He smiled apologetically, “You looked really comfortable,” he said.
You glared at him, “Unless you want to explain to me whatever was taught today, you should have woken up,”
Soobin just continued smiling at you like one would look at a cat, “Well that’s not an issue,” he pointed to where the teacher’s desk was, “considering we didn’t learn anything today,”
You let out a groan, “If we had a supply, then why did you wake me up?”
He just shook his head, “Because it’s the type of supply who is about to write your name down for doing nothing all period,”
You scowled, those were the worst kind of supply teachers, the ones who cared too much about a class that wasn’t theirs.
“Fine,” you grumbled, opening your notebook and textbook on a random page.
You grabbed your pencil and laid back down on your notebook, “Now it’ll look like I’m doing something,”
Soobin just laughed quietly at you, ignoring your stubborn glare, “Come over today after school.”
You shook your head, “Can’t, I have to do my homework,”
He snorted, “Why else do I want you to come over,”
You shrugged, “I don’t know, didn’t you mention a new video game that came out,”
Soobin slumped at the mention, “I wanna play the new update so bad,” he pouts, “but every time I sit down to do it there’s suddenly a new test to study for,”
You moved to pat his head to soothe him. It was a feeling you knew all too well, after all.
“Come over,” Soobin pleaded, “Mrs. Kim did say that misery loves company,”
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “Since when do you pay attention in English?”
“Since she started telling us about her cheating husband,” Soobin replied casually.
You let out a small laugh, “Fine,” you said, “I’ll come over if you tell me everything,”
Soobin grinned, “Deal,” he patted your head once more, “now go back to sleep before you explode on me.”
You huffed and rolled your eyes.
Homework will simply be an issue for later.
The more Yeonjun spent time in university, the more aware he was of everyone’s awkwardness.
Everyone was awkward.
It didn’t matter how many people you talked to in high school, it was pretty much ground zero in university.
Yeonjun was thankful that all his friends ended up coming with him, but even he knew that he needed to talk to other people.
It’s been three weeks, twenty three days to be specific, since he started going to university, and Yeonjun has talked to one other person, and that was because that guy was sitting on his pencil.
Yeonjun knew that he wasn’t the only person dealing with this sudden inability to talk to people. But he couldn’t help but feel bitter as he watched Wooyoung drag not one, but two new people to their lunch table.
He just stared as Wooyoung ushered them to their table, smiling and laughing with those two as if he had known them for years and not exactly twenty minutes.
He watched as the two came closer, taking time to give them a full body scan.
He swallowed the ball forming in his throat and let out a smile when the three came.
“Where’s San?” Wooyoung asked, ignoring the people that were looking at Yeonjun.
Yeonjun shrugged, “Last I heard, he was being held up in a shitty lecture,”
Wooyoung nodded, taking a french fry from Yeonjun’s plate.
It was quiet for a moment, no one saying anything as Wooyoung continued to munch loudly on Yeonjun’s fries.
Yeonjun hated this, he hated the awkward silence.
He let out a cough, successfully grabbing Wooyoung’s attention who looked at him with a mouthful of fries.
Yeonjun raised an eyebrow, “Do you wanna say who these people are?” he asked.
Wooyoung swallowed his inhumane bite of fries and nodded, “This is Yeosang,” he said pointing to the prettiest, most fairy-like boy Yeonjun has seen, “and this is Yeosang’s friend Seonghwa,” he pointed to the most intimidating boy Yeonjun has ever seen.
Yeonjun nodded, “I’m Yeonjun,” he offered.
The two boys nodded.
It was silent for another moment.
Surprisingly, the one to break the silence was Seonghwa, who gently asked Yeonjun, “Are those strawberries on your plate?”
Yeonjun looked down, he was trying to grab whatever looked decent, not really looking at what he was grabbing, so the cup of freshly cut strawberries was a surprise even for him.
He nodded, answering Seonghwa’s question.
“Can I possibly have some?” the boy dressed head to toe in black asked.
Yeonjun nodded, “You like strawberries?” he asked, while handing over the cup.
Seonghwa nodded, looking at the plastic cup with sparkly eyes, “They’re my favourite fruits,” he said.
Yeonjun pursed his lips, not knowing how to comprehend how the walking bad boy stereotype Seonghwa could look like a little kid over strawberries.
“That’s great,” Yeonjun replied.
It was silent for another moment.
This time, Wooyoung broke it.
“Seonghwa also studies cooking sciences,” he said, “he’s actually very good.”
Yeonjun nodded, taking in this information.
“I study business,” he offered.
Yeosang smiled at him, instantly reminding him of Tinkerbell, “I’m studying Digital Tech Design,”
Yeonjun tried not to show how shocked he was at Yeosang’s deep voice, and instead commented, “Like graphic design and stuff?”
Yeosang nodded.
His phone buzzed on the table, and Yeonjun tried not to pick it up too eagerly.
Unfortunately, all he saw was another spam email from Spotify, enticing him to upgrade his student plan into an all time premium plan.
Yeonjun closed his eyes.
He was going to make friends, and Seonghwa and Yeosang would be his first victims.
He let out a little breath before smiling and opening his mouth.
He needed friends, and he would do his best to get them.
Have you ever mentioned how much you despised chemistry?
If you hadn’t, you clearly were hallucinating the past two weeks.
As you closed your chat with Yeonjun, consisting of you pestering him to ask him about university only to be sent voice messages about how you should cherish what you have left of high school, which was entirely unhelpful.
You still smiled at his nagging tone, but you couldn’t help but stare at your notebook littered in drawings of organic compounds that needed to be named, and wanting to yell how exactly you were supposed to enjoy high school.
You turned to look at Soobin, who had also given up and was now playing games on his phones.
You sighed, turning to look at Beomgyu who was the only one doing his homework.
So much for studying at Soobin’s house.
You got up from the floor, where all of you were spread out around the living room coffee table.
You don’t really know what you were looking for, you were just looking for something else to do.
In fact, one thing that you have successfully learned since the start of school was the obvious lack of female friends that you had.
You had Arin to thank for that, with her constantly being around you, you didn’t really feel the need to talk to anyone else, considering that you had Soobin and Yeonjun with you since you moved here.
But now that Arin and Yeonjun were gone, you were left feeling painfully aware that you really didn’t have any female friends of your own.
Another thing to worry about in grade twelve.
You looked around Soobin’s kitchen, moving out of habit to get yourself a cookie and a glass of milk.
As you moved around the kitchen, looking over the cookie jar that your grandma and Grandma Choi shared custody over, your phone let out a small ding!
You paused your movements, thinking it was Yeonjun messaging you another selfie of him pouting in a lecture.
However, you couldn’t help being confused as you saw who actually messaged you.
It was Chaewon, the pretty girl who was in three of your four classes.
You gulped, trying to manipulate your notification bar so you could read the message without having to show that you read it.
You never really talked to Chaewon, not really wanting to or needing to talk to her.
Which is why you found yourself anxiously biting your lips as you read through the messages.
The notification bar showed,
chae_chae : hey ! I saw that ur in my math class, i was wondering if you would want to study together at some point ??
You kept chewing your lip.
You looked back at the kitchen, looking as Soobin successfully coerced Beomgyu into playing Roblox with him instead of doing any form of math homework.
You closed your eyes as you clicked on the message.
What’s the harm in another friend?
With this perseverance you willed your fingers to type back a nice enough response,
http.y/n : hi chaewon !! i’d love to study with you sometimes, im free whenever so lemme know when your able to ?!
You grimaced at the amount of exclamation points and put your phone face down on the kitchen counter, slightly mourning your social life.
You closed your eyes and took a bite of the cookie. This week was double chocolate chip cookies, with a peanut butter drizzle, a cookie that was lucky to last three days between you and Soobin.
Another thing you noticed this year was how much easier people were when Yeonjun stood beside you. He always knew what to say first. Somehow conversations never felt awkward when he was there. Without him, every sentence suddenly felt like something you had to rehearse first.
You didn’t really know how to explain it to anyone, not at your mom who hugged you as you dropped Yeonjun off to university, not to your grandma who always told you how much she missed him, and definitely not at Soobon who has made a few off-hand comments about how you finally hang out at his house.
You swallow the cookie, and look down at yourself.
You missed him, he was a part of you, someone who ended up filling all the cracks in your life.
You really did depend on Yeonjun, and you weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
However, as your phone dinged again, and you flipped it over to reveal a
“Yayyy! i’ll lyk asap!!!” from Chaewon. You couldn’t help but feel lighter, because you could be a person without him.
You just needed to try.
Yeonjun found solace in the library.
It was one of the quieter places in all of campus that was always guaranteed some form of peace of quiet, he just needed to find the correct spot to find it. The only sounds were pages turning, keyboards clicking, and the occasional squeak of a chair being pushed back.
University was fucking exhausting.
There was something about introducing yourself over and over again, trying to figure out which version of yourself to give people, remembering names you knew you'd forget by tomorrow, smiling even when you were tired. It was exhausting.
And it was another thing to realize that any confidence that he had in his academic skills in high school was wrong and that he should be grateful to be passing his courses.
And while being in the library reminded him of his studies, Yeonjun couldn’t help but find the silence calming.
While being left alone with his thoughts was scary, and all he really wanted to do was watch something online, he couldn’t help but find comfort in the idea that a lot of the people here were alone as well.
He would always come after class, especially on the days when Wooyoung was still in a class or hanging out with other people. Sometimes, before bed, Wooyoung would come into their shared dorm and tell him about how he spent his day talking to seniors, teachers’ assistants, and even making friends with random professors, and despite being proud of Wooyoung, Yeonjun couldn’t help the bitterness creeping in his chest.
How was it that Wooyoung made friends so easily?
Was he not friendly enough?
Did he look too intimidating?
Did everyone already have their people?
Why was it so fucking hard to walk up to someone and just say hi?
Maybe sitting in the library was a bad idea, the silence got to his head, and now Yeonjun found himself blinking back tears as he stared at his textbook.
He swallowed his emotions down, and went to his phone, only to be hit with a photo memory of you and him joyriding carts at the local grocery store.
He remembers pouting, begging, and even acting cute, just so the two of you could let Beomgyu and Soobin settle a bet between who was the fastest as Arin recorded.
The emotions were coming back up.
It was different without you around.
He missed your room, how your hands would always go up to his hair, how you would gently talk to him and listen to all his points before helping him make any kind of decision.
He missed you.
And that was a harder thought to admit. Especially because he had told you not to miss him.
He was about to click on the memory, watch the video and then maybe video call you for a study call, but was interrupted by a hesitant tap on his shoulder.
Yeonjun was expecting to see San, maybe along with Yeosang, as all his high school friends seemed to fawn over the fairy boy for his awkwardly endearing charm.
San had made it a mission to see Yeonjun and Wooyoung at least once a day, and while it endeared Yeonjun, it also made it abundantly clear that San had so many other things to do rather than spend all day with him.
Meaning that Yeonjun turned around, expecting the dimpled boy standing beside a fairy one ready to initiate a conversation.
Only to be stumped when it wasn’t any of those options.
It wasn’t even Seonghwa.
It was a boy. A small boy.
Yeonjun turned his body to face the boy, who was starting to remind Yeonjun of a squirrel.
The boy cleared his throat, “You're in Mr.Song’s class about HR Management right?”
Yeonjun nodded.
The squirrel looking boy continued, “I need help,”
Yeonjun blinked, his finger pointing at himself as if asking ‘Me?’
The boy nodded,”Yeah, you,” there was a moment of silence, “I’m Kang Taehyun, and I need help in that class,”
Yeonjun opened his mouth, wanting to offer the seat beside him, but all that came out was, “How the fuck are you failing that class?”
Taehyun pursed his lips, moving to take the seat beside him, “I’m not really good at,” he paused, “human stuff,”
Yeonjun nodded, acting like he completely understood how that worked.
“I’m Yeonjun,” he offered, “and I’ll help you, I guess,”
The boy beamed at him, letting Yeonjun scan over him.
“Your small,” is all that Yeonjun found himself saying.
Maybe he should stop being so blunt.
"I'm sixteen," Taehyun said matter-of-factly. "I'm not exactly expecting to tower over anyone."
Yeonjun felt his heart stop, “You’re sixteen?” he exclaimed, trying to ignore the subtle stares from everyone around him.
Taehyun nodded.
Yeonjun felt his heart stop, "You should be doing homework about fractions."
"I graduated," is all that Taehyun replied with.
“I have so many questions,” Yeonjun breathed out.
Taehyun nodded calmly, “And I will answer all of them when you help me,”
Yeonjun nodded, part of his brain trying to reel in the fact that his first friend that he himself made was a sixteen year old.
He let out a small smile to Taehyun.
He could work with that.
Chaewon was the epitome of a girl friend, at least by your standards.
She had invited you to study at the library the week before your next math test.
Somewhere between radians and trigonometry, you ended up learning more about Chaewon than you did about math.
You had learned that she was kind, that she was funny, and that she didn’t hesitate to call out on bullshit.
You learned this when she told you that she sent an email to your math teacher, telling her to move the test for the following week as she didn’t give adequate time to prepare.
“Just because her life is falling apart and the entire math department hates her, doesn't mean that she could just ruin our lives you know?” she told you, while sipping on her iced coffee, careful to make sure that no condensation drips on to her math notes.
“You can do that?” you had asked her, trying to swallow your shock for something so normal to her.
She shrugged, “I’m not saying anything wrong,”
You nodded along, acting as if she hadn’t just challenged all your beliefs on teachers and their authority.
Other than that shock, Chaewon was actually a wonderful person to hang around with.
It made going into class easier, and made studying seem something to look forward to.
It made making fun of Soobin even more fun, and even he couldn’t deny how fun lunch had gotten due to the debates that would take place. Yesterday’s debate was: is it gay to do something homsexual for $5. You and Chaewon argued yes, while Soobin was just trying to tell you that this was gossip from last week’s party.
"I'm less concerned that it's gay," Chaewon said thoughtfully, "and more concerned he valued himself at five dollars."
Soobin sighed, “That wasn’t even the question Chae-” he was hushed by the girl who turned to him with her eyes narrowed, “Would you kiss a guy for five dollars Soobin?”
You turned to your friend, curious about where this conversation was going, “Yeah Soobin,” you egged on, “would you?”
Soobin visibly gulped, “There’s children here,” he said weakly, pointing to Beomgyu who was on the far end of the table talking to Heeseung.
Your eyes widened in shock, “So you would do it for five dollars?”
“No,” he stammered out.
"That took you way too long to answer," Chaewon asked slyly.
Soobin looked at the two of you and then down at his lunch, “I fucking hate it here,”
You and Chaewon shared a look and simply burst into giggles.
Another reason why you were coming to adore talking to Chaewon was the discovery that even she was struggling through this school year.
The realization came when you got back the test that you and Chaewon had studied for.
Your grade was lower than you expected.
Again.
Meaning that you were simply looking for something to distract yourself from the grade circled in red ink at the top of your paper, when you noticed Chaewon staring at hers with the same disappointed expression.
You couldn't help but feel a little lighter seeing it.
It was harsh.
You understood that.
Regardless, the idea that someone else was struggling just as much as you while putting in the effort made you feel better.
Maybe you weren't the only one who found grade twelve hard.
Regardless, you smiled at her when she looked at you, offering a quiet sense of comfort to the girl who was clearly not used to needing it.
She simply looked, and let out a small smile.
The great thing about Chaewon was that she didn’t dwell on a lot of things, until it came to her friends.
You had invited her over one day after school, letting her lie on your bed while eating your grandma’s strawberry jam-filled cookies as she told you about her friend’s horrible relationship.
You simply leaned against the wall facing her, trying to comprehend how people your age were making out and everything.
“And then,” Chaewon said, eating her third cookie, “she told me that she found her boyfriend making out with some chick from the other school,”
“Chick?” you asked, wondering if that was the most appropriate way to describe the girl who apparently kissed a guy despite knowing he was in a relationship.
"I mean, I asked around," Chaewon said. "Apparently she collects boyfriends like Pokémon."
You nodded, as if you weren't holding your giggles at the thought of a random girl summoning a Pokeball to pick a man at her will.
“What about you?” Chaewon asked, moving to sit up on your sheets, “do you have any guy drama?”
You blinked.
Chaewon rolled her eyes playfully, "Why are you looking at me like I just asked you to do stoichiometry in your head?" she shifted closer to the edge of the bed, “You’re pretty and all, so I was just wondering if a guy had ever asked you out or something,”
You opened your mouth, despite your brain being unable to formulate a response.
“Uh,” you started, “nothing has really happened to me that way,”
Chaewon shook her head, “Didn’t you go to prom last year?”
You nodded.
“Well, prom is an invite only event,” Chaewon stated.
"Wooyoung asked me," was all you said.
Chaewon's eyebrows lifted, "Jung Wooyoung?"
You nodded, "As a friend," you clarified quickly.
"Maybe," Chaewon hummed. "But guys don't usually ask girls that they're only friends with to go to prom."
"Besides," Chaewon tilted her head. "Doesn't Yeonjun basically follow you around?"
You weren’t really sure where this conversation was going, and you're not really sure if you liked it.
“He doesn’t follow me around,” you defended, “he is just one of my closest friends, that’s all,”
Chaewon hummed, seeming like she was absorbing the information.
“Well,” she said, “do you like him?”
You felt your heart stutter, not knowing how to finally verbalize your feelings, after all, it’s not like Chaewon could do or say anything if you confessed.
You looked down at your lap, “Would it be horrible if I do?”
You couldn’t see Chaewon’s small smile, “I don’t think so,”
The room was silent for a moment.
You didn’t really know what to do, after saying your feelings out loud for the first time.
Yeonjun didn’t really know how to explain that a sixteen-year-old genius had somehow become his closest friend at university.
In fact, he didn’t even think he would have to explain it until Wooyoung barged into their dorm one afternoon and found Taehyun sitting cross-legged on the floor, physics textbooks sprawled around him like he was trying to solve the meaning of life.
Wooyoung simply looked around at the complicated diagrams littered across the room and then asked Taehyun a very important question, “Does your mom know you're here?”
Taehyun looked up, seemingly startled, “Does your mom know you're here?” is all that came out of his mouth.
Wooyoung pursed his lips and nodded, “Touche,” is all he said.
That was the moment that Yeonjun found himself walking into.
He knew he had let Taehyun study in his room because he knew that the kid needed to be somewhere other than the library, what he was not expecting was that Wooyoung would also be there.
Yeonjun walked in the room, letting his two cat-like friends stare each other down for the two sides that they’ve claimed.
He broke the silence the only way he knew how, by letting out a small “Hey,”
The two let out a small mumble of greeting, still staring at each other.
Yeonjun gulped, “Taehyun this is Wooyoung, he’s my friend since like forever”
He turned to face said friend, “Woo, this is Taehyun, I met him a few weeks ago in the library,”
Wooyoung nodded, “He’s small,”
“He is sixteen,” Yeonjun added helpfully.
Taehyun let out the perfected smile that Yeonjun himself used whenever one of his aunts pinched his cheeks too hard.
The room was silent for another moment, letting everything settle in.
A few weeks later, during one of the many afternoons Taehyun had claimed their dorm room as his study spot, Wooyoung looked up from his phone.
“What are your plans for winter?”
Yeonjun felt his calm smile break, turning into more of a grimace as he turned to his roommate, trying to indicate that maybe asking that was not the best topic for their first conversation.
Yeonjun would know, he was the one who asked first anyways.
It was the week before midterms, and Yeonjun was letting Taehyun teach him about biochemical engineering, a field that involved all the three subjects that Yeonjun was the worst at, when the topic of break came up.
Yeonjun didn’t hesitate, he quickly showed Taehyun pictures of you, the messages shared between you, and how excited he was to make jokes with you at the Choi Cousins Movie Night ™ the moment he got back.
“She sounds fun,” is all that Taehyun responded with.
Yeonjun nodded, letting out a toothy smile, as he swiped up through your chats consisting of the two of you sharing random memes and talking shit about school. He didn’t let Taehyun’s dry response shake his resolve, he knew that Taehyun was a little more dry with his emotions.
“What about you?” Yeonjun asked mindlessly, trying to hide his grin as he reread your rant about hating tomato juice and its titration.
While Yeonjun may not have seen, he definitely felt the kid tense up beside him, and it told him enough to drop the question, making him mutter a “You don’t have to tell me if you want,”
Taehyun shook his head, “It’s not a huge deal,” he replied, “it’s just not as fun going back home when all that’s waiting for you is talks about your future that’s been decided for you,”
Yeonjun stilled, absorbing everything being said.
He looked beside him, at Taehyun with his glasses that were a little too big for his face.
His heart stuttered, Taehyun reminded him of how much he wanted a younger sibling, with his big hoodies and his berating tone when he caught Yeonjun eating Froot Loops for the fifth time in a day.
“Do you want to come home with me?” he asked.
Taehyun turned his head around, eyes wide.
“Actually?” he asked Yeonjun.
Yeonjun simply nodded, “I mean you can probably sleep at my house or even Soobin’s house, depending on if his brother comes this year, but you are welcome,”
Yeonjun watched as the boba-like eyes of Taehyun water a little, before turning back to his textbook and nodding, “I’d like that hyung,”
Yeonjun wouldn’t dare admit it, but he really liked it when the honorific slipped out.
He felt warm.
You really needed to talk to Arin more.
The more time you spent with Chaewon, the more your heart ached to be with Arin.
You missed your first girl friend.
It was nearing midnight, and you had finally finished your homework so there was nothing to do over the weekend, and you decided that rather than watching youtube for the next three hours you might as well do something productive.
After all, you had already watched two videos you weren't paying attention to and refreshed every app on your phone twice.
You scrolled through your contacts as you laid on your bed, the only light being the koala lamp your grandma got you when you were born and your phone.
You found Arin’s contact and hovered your finger over it.
You missed her.
Chaewon was great, but she wasn’t Arin. There was nothing wrong with that, but it felt weird having to explain parts of your life to someone who wasn’t there to experience it with you.
Besides, you didn’t really hear much from Arin. You messaged her a few times but it always seemed like your timings were off, making her reply to you two weeks after.
You tried not to take it personally, tried hard not to let it show how much you missed the time where she would be online the minute your typing bubbles appeared.
With a leap of hope, you pressed on her contact, Arin's baby picture appearing on your screen as the phone began to ring.
It rang once, and then it rang twice, but when it rang a third, fourth, and fifth time, you hung up.
You let out a small sigh, debating if you should try again.
As you sat up on your bed, you found that the decision had been made for you, as you saw Arin’s contact displayed on your phone.
Smiling, you let yourself answer the call and hold it up to your ear, “Hello,”
You weren’t really sure what you were expecting, a light “hi!” or maybe a happy mutter of your name, but what you were expecting was to be overhearing Kesha songs through the small speaker.
There was no talking for a moment, making you hear the loud bass of the music with the distant mutter of voices.
You couldn’t help but say into the phone, “Arin?”
What you heard next scared you, it was a groan in a voice similar to Arin’s, you weren’t able to tell because the music was still so fucking loud.
“Arin?” you asked again, concern growing in your chest.
You knew university parties were real. You and Soobin had spent half of middle school dragging Doyoung back to bed whenever he'd stumble home from one. You also knew Arin wanted this. She wanted the parties, the freedom, the experience. But she'd called you two minutes ago, and she still hadn't said a single word.
As you let out a call of her name the third time, you finally heard her voice.
It wasn’t a happy “Hey!” or a happy exclaim of your name, instead you were met with an annoyed groan that greeted you with a sharp, “What the fuck do you want?”
"Hey," you said quietly. "Are... are you okay?"
There was a moment of silence before another groan came through, “God, Y/N,” is all she said.
You stayed silent, unable to understand what was happening.
“I haven’t ever responded to your messages on time in four fucking months what makes you think I want to talk to you right now?” Arin said, her tone filled with her signature bite, something you’ve always heard, just never at you.
“Arin,” you said, trying to ignore the quivering of your lips, “are you drunk?”
She snorted, “No fucking shit Sherlock” she exclaimed into the phone.
“I just wanted to talk,” you said, your voice getting quieter as the heaviness in your chest settled.
Arin let out a dry laugh, “Now you want to talk? After you practically didn’t call me for two months?”
“I was studying,” was all that you replied with.
You didn’t need to be on a video call to know that Arin rolled her eyes, because you know her well enough to know that she did. “Well here’s a wake up call for you Y/N, I don’t care about your studying and as a matter of fact, I don’t fucking care about you,”
And with that, Arin hung up.
You didn’t even bother to hide the tears in your eyes as you went through your phone.
You let your fingers move on autopilot, you didn’t even register clicking Yeonjun’s contact and bringing it up to your ear, you just wanted him.
You let your tears fall as you let the hum of the ringing prevent you from breaking down then and there.
How were you supposed to know? How were you supposed to know that it would only take four months for six years of hushed giggling and deep conversations to be thrown away.
It was only when you heard a small giggle across the line, followed by a “What’s up shortie,” did you register how quickly your heart was beating.
“Yeonjun,” you let out, your throat dry and lips swollen.
A small hum came through the speaker. “Is everything alright?” he asked quietly.
You didn’t really understand how to answer that question.
You gulped. “Have you talked to Arin lately?”
There was some shuffling on the other side before Yeonjun slowly said, “Have you?”
You let out a small noise of confirmation, blinking back the tears reforming in your eyes.
“Oh,” was all he said.
You heard some more shuffling on his side before a distant mutter of, “Hey, I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
“Were you busy?” you croaked out.
Yeonjun replied quickly, “Nope, just went on a walk with Seonghwa and Wooyoung, they promised to let me try their final assignment.”
You couldn’t help the small smile that formed, at least he was still the same.
“So,” he started, and you could imagine him kicking rocks on a path, “you talked to Arin.”
You hummed.
He let out a sigh. “I’ve been trying to keep in touch with her too, but I don’t really know what happened.”
“You knew?” you asked.
“Not really,” he admitted. “I just hear things sometimes. Me and Wooyoung had to pick her up from a party once.”
You swallowed. “I don’t know what to do,” you breathed out. “She felt so mean.”
Yeonjun hummed. “I don’t really know what to do, Y/N,” he replied gently, “but you have to remember that whatever she said, she probably didn’t mean it.”
“Are you sure?” you asked, feeling like your three-year-old self who would ask her dad to make sure there were no monsters in the dark.
“I’m not too sure,” Yeonjun replied honestly, “but even if she did mean it, just remember she isn’t the only one who cares about you.”
You swallowed, nodding along to what he was saying even if he couldn't see you.
“When did you get so good at being comforting?” you asked, sniffling once more.
You heard his small laugh, the one he makes when he’s shy. “I’ve had to step up my game.”
You let out a wet giggle, “Damn, must be hard trying to compete in my shadow,”
It was safe to say that the thing you missed most was simply how easy it was to talk to Yeonjun. He was familiar, his laugh had never changed, and despite the two of you being on the phone for the next three hours, it felt like he was right beside you.
In fact, when you woke up the next morning, you were expecting to see his spikey hair on your bedroom floor like you had so many times in your spontaneous sleepovers. But your room was empty, and your phone had one notification in it.
You rolled your eyes, expecting a pouting selfie from your best friend.
Instead it was three notifications from someone you were no longer sure what to call.
arinindahouse : hey i saw that we called last night ?? lmao sorry i was kinda out and drunk … but is everything okay?
You flipped your phone around and sighed.
It wasn’t like she was the only person in the world.
Yeonjun was bored.
He was bored and he needed Taehyun to stop staring at him as if he was a toddler.
“No,” Taehyun chided him for what felt like the fourth time.
It was two weeks before winter break, and he was sitting in his dorm room with Taehyun trying to convince the boy to do something, anything, fun.
Seonghwa and San were also in the room, waiting for Wooyoung and Yeosang to come back with snacks.
“Don’t you agree with me?” Yeonjun asked, pouting at Seonghwa. “You're the oldest, your word matters most.”
Taehyun furrowed his eyebrows, already opening his mouth to argue with that logic when Seonghwa let out a laugh.
“Sure, Yeonjun,” the older man said, pausing his argument with San over strawberries. “You're right and Taehyun's wrong.”
Taehyun looked scandalized, while Yeonjun got off his bed with a loud cheer.
“What are you planning to do?” Taehyun asked, already surrendering himself to whatever his hyung had in mind.
Yeonjun hummed before turning to San.
“Do you wanna actually dye your hair?”
San's eyes widened before he let out a groan and flung himself backwards onto Wooyoung's bed.
Yeonjun watched him gleefully.
“Let's all dye our hair!” he exclaimed, rivaling the excitement of a seven-year-old who had just been handed a brand new set of Hot Wheels.
San whined, “The last time we did that, my mom almost kicked me out,”
"That's what makes it fun," Yeonjun argued. "We go home with coloured hair and prove we're adults."
San flopped again on Wooyoung’s bed, “Hyung,” he whined at Seonghwa, “stop this,”
Yeonjun looked at Seonghwa, hope shining in his eyes.
Seonghwa sat there, taking the decision to dye their hair as serious as deciding the next meal.
“I think,” the tall boy said, “that I have always wanted to dye my hair pink,”
San groaned as Yeonjun let out a cheer.
Taehyun let out a sigh and simply moved to clean his glasses, “It is better to ask for forgiveness than permission,”
Yeonjun cheered even more, already putting his foot out the door, only to be met with Wooyoung and Yeosang returning with a concerning amount of snacks.
“You will not believe what we just did at the convenience store,” Wooyoung breathed out as he shoved the snacks into Yeonjun’s arms.
Yeonjun simply smiled and passed the snacks to San, who handed them to Seonghwa. The older man immediately spotted the packet of pink mochi and started eating it, letting Taehyun grab one.
“We are going to dye our hair,” Yeonjun stated.
Wooyoung furrowed his eyebrows, "Did you not just hear that we,” he pointed to him and Yeosang, “just humiliated ourselves in that store,”
Yeosang snorted, “That was all you, I can return to that store with dignity,”
Yeonjun watched the interaction, expecting to feel a small sense of envy for how easily Wooyoung brought new people into their group.
Instead, he grabbed Taehyun's hand and dragged everyone towards the nearest convenience store.
He was happy.
Genuinely happy.
Universities should just accept everyone.
After all, why should it matter what you offer them? An education is supposed to be about what the school offers the student.
“This is bullshit,” you said, slamming your laptop shut at the dining table.
“You're telling me,” Soobin replied, gently closing his beside yours.
The one reason the two of you were in your house instead of his was because there was a family gathering happening next door.
A family gathering to celebrate all the university kids coming home for winter break, and the Choi family had decided that it was the perfect, and apparently only, time to get everyone together.
Unfortunately, it also happened to be the exact same time university applications had become everyone's favourite conversation topic, with polite discussions happening between aunties and uncles about the future of the Choi family that somehow always extended to you.
So, rather than sitting through another round of What program are you applying to? and Have you thought about medicine?, you and Soobin were hiding out in your house with your grandma's pre-prepared food while she and your mom were next door getting into the holiday spirit.
You weren’t even sure what the point of kicking the two of you out was. According to Soobin’s mom, it was so the two of you could finalize any supplementary parts of your university applications that you had yet to complete, but you had the mind to tell her that the two of you had been working on applications for the past three weeks.
“It’s just such,” you continued, stuffing your face with cookies, “such bullshit.”
Soobin nodded, also reaching for one of your grandma’s cookies. “It’s only one night too. It’s not as if we’ve been slacking off or something.”
You nodded violently, wholeheartedly agreeing with your friend.
“Besides,” Soobin continued, skipping past the pot of warm pasta and heading straight for the chocolate cake your grandma had already set aside for dessert, “it’s not like we don’t want to see our cousins.”
You let out a hum of agreement.
An hour ago you had been arguing with your mom about this whole predicament because an hour ago you genuinely believed you were going to see Yeonjun today.
However here you were, eating chocolate cake with Soobin in silence as the two of you mourned the party you couldn’t go to along with friends you couldn’t see.
“Is Arin there?” you asked Soobin, not really knowing if he knew anything about his cousin.
He shrugged, moving the piece of cake with his fork, “From what I heard, she probably isn’t allowed home this break,”
You tensed up, “Do you know what happened?”
Soobin shrugged, “I mean, I’ve heard bits of it from my parents but,” he took a bite of cake, letting the frosting smear on his lips, “I stopped really caring after she ghosted me,”
You nodded, taking in the information.
It was then that the door started moving.
Loud enough for the two of you to stare at the door and grip your forks tighter, as if they would be of any use in case of an attack.
The door shifted open, and you and Soobin stayed firmly seated on your stools.
Laughter spilled through from the harsh winter that was happening outside, providing warmth into the empty entrance of your house.
“Should we check who it is?” Soobin leaned over to whisper into your ear.
You shook your head, “It’s definitely not someone harmful,” you whispered back.
“How do you know?” Soobin argued, not letting his eyes leave the door.
“Because they’re laughing,” you pointed out, letting out a smile of satisfaction when you heard a snort.
“Serial Killers laugh too when they are about to murder helpless teens,” he retorted.
“I don’t think serial killers are usually that noisy,” you replied, listening to the quiet giggles and the repeated thunk of boots hitting the floor.
Soobin sighed dramatically. “Damn,” he muttered. “Kinda wanted to add surviving an attack to my university applications.”
You let out a laugh.
“That should be an automatic acceptance.”
Soobin was about to respond, probably to complain that universities still wouldn’t care because his math grade sucked ass, but he was interrupted by a loud crash from the entrance.
By then, you had already climbed off your stool and made your way towards the front door to see who couldn't manage the impossible task of taking off their shoes properly.
Every step was accompanied by another muffled groan or quiet hiss, the kind people made when they were losing a battle against winter boots.
When you finally reached the entrance, with Soobin slowly trailing behind you, you were greeted by the sight of a head of orange being loudly scolded by a head of blue.
You blinked. “Can I help you?”
The two colourful heads snapped up.
Orange-haired Yeonjun stood frozen with one boot still stubbornly hanging off his foot, while beside him another boy with bright blue hair looked equally guilty.
You weren't really sure what the blue-haired boy looked like.
It was hard to pay attention to anything when your heart had decided to do a cartwheel in your chest. Because Yeonjun was standing in your doorway with bright orange hair, pink lips pulled into a pout, and one boot still stubbornly on his foot.
Your lips stretched into a smile before you can even try to look stern, “Do you need help?”
Yeonjun stubbornly shook his head, “It’s not my fault that the boot wants to stay on my foot,”
The blue boy just groaned, “It’s this logic that makes you fail Stats,”
You just shook your head, moving to take both of their jackets and just letting Yeonjun complain to the other boy about why his boot probably found him attractive.
Soobin simply stood there unimpressed with his older cousin, “How do you survive university?”
The shorter boy shook his head, “He doesn’t”
Soobin nodded, “I’m Soobin,”
The boy smiled, “I know,” he pointed to Yeonjun, “he made sure to tell me all about you on the way here.”
Soobin let out a groan.
“I’m Taehyun,” the boy, whose name was now known, announced, putting his hand out for Soobin to shake.
Meanwhile, you were watching your best friend finally pull his boot off his foot, having moved to sitting down on the floor like a child. He let out a victorious grin as he placed the boot next to the other one and smiled up at you.
At that moment, as your eyes finally met for the first time since August, you felt your heart warm. Maybe the movies were right, maybe distance did make the heart grow fonder.
It felt like second nature watching him climb back to his feet, only for him to immediately close the distance between the two of you and wrap you in his arms. You let out a small laugh as you hugged him back, burying your face into his shoulder for just a second longer than you probably should have. You had missed seeing your best friend through something other than a screen.
The warmth of his hoodie that he always wore.
The sweet smell he always carried because he would spend too much time baking with your grandma.
The giggles that used to fill your bedroom.
It was all there.
Somehow, it all fit inside one very orange Choi Yeonjun.
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