「 Blinded 」
l. bada x f reader x w. haechi ✎𓂃 You have a green flag and a red flag wanting your attention. Too bad you have rose colored glasses on and choose the one who doesn't deserve you.
word count ! 2.6 k
requested ! anon: I saw an edit on tiktok about bada and haechi, someone in the comments said " what If Bada as the red flag male lead and Haechi as the second male that is always there for you " I know that you're a great writer that's why I requested it! 🥹🫶🏻
author's note ! reader is stupid and delulu for bada... that's all ill say😭
Working has never been a problem for you—you love making money. Since you were a kid, you've hustled through odd jobs. At some point, it was yard work at 9, tutoring by 13, dog sitting at 16, and nannying by 18. You’ve always had this drive to find work that paid well, because with money, you could live life on your own terms.
So when you were out and about one day and stumbled across a bartending gig paying over 18 dollars an hour, you didn’t hesitate. You called the place immediately to schedule an interview.
At 25, finding a job that could help you stay afloat in Korea wasn’t just a win. That’s always been the goal in the country—just survive.
It’s all you’ve ever known, especially after your father walked out on you and your mom. And now, with your mother incredibly sick, the pressure is on to find well-paying jobs that are really taking a toll on you. Thankfully, all those years of grinding paid off—you’ve managed to cover the medical bills, the prescriptions, and everything else your mom needs.
You got the job without any problems. A week of training went by in a blur due to the sticky floors, loud music, and learning how to pour drinks without spilling any of it. Your feet ached after most shifts, but money was money. Plus, there was something weirdly comforting about the chaos for you.
Your first official day felt like any other packed nightclub: too many sweaty bodies, half-hearted pickup lines tossed your way, and the constant stickiness of spilled liquor that you eventually stopped noticing. Jackie, your coworker behind the bar, was quick to warn you about the place’s infamous late-night wildcard.
“Senior DJs coming in tonight,” she muttered while wiping a shot glass. “It’s Bada. Try not to get caught with her.”
You gave a nod but didn’t comment because you didn’t care about gossip like that; the goal was just to avoid those kinds of people. But later that night, when the crowd’s energy pretty much flipped the place around the moment the bass dropped and a tall figure made her way to the DJ booth like she owned the place, you realized she enticed you.
There was something about her. The way her hoodie sleeves were half-pushed up, the way her head bopped to her own beat, the control she had over the room from her presence alone. Her hands on the deck looked long and slender, her smirk—lazy, crooked—made something settle deep in your gut. You hated to admit it, but Jackie’s warning did little to shake the quiet energy pulling you in.
You did your best to keep your distance, though. You were here to make money, not to flirt with apparent grade A douchebags.
But that only lasted a couple of weeks.
One night, Bada bailed at the last minute. Jackie muttered something about her flaking again and rolled her eyes so hard you thought they’d get stuck. You came in late for your shift and were expecting the usual DJ everyone came in for, but instead, your gaze landed on someone different—an unfamiliar girl on the high stage, hair curly and volumous, a cute smile tugging at her lips as the beat thumped into your chest.
She wasn’t exactly Bada, but somehow the energy was similar… this one just seemed much cuter and much more approachable.
During your break, she stepped off the stage and wandered over, tapping lightly on the bar counter.
“Hey,” she said, voice almost drowned by the music. “Do you have snacks?”
You blinked, then grabbed a pack of crackers from behind the counter and handed them to her. “Only this.”
She looked genuinely grateful. “You just saved my life. I was starving—I’m Haechi, by the way.”
You gave her your name, and she smiled wider, soft, genuine, and she wasn’t someone in that building who didn’t give you club-kid energy, unlike everyone else. Over time, she started showing up more, filling in DJ slots here and there. You’d catch her waving at you from the booth or stopping by during your break just to talk.
Likely just Bada not coming to work because Bada could do no wrong, and if that's what she wishes, she’s allowed to do it. Yet you were thankful at the turn of events.
Haechi has this bright, almost clumsy warmth that makes you feel like you were back in school, talking to someone you could become friends with.
And then, on one of those wild Friday nights, she was back again—only this time she was alternating sets with Bada, a relay that had the crowd going wild. The combination of the two brought in a bunch of people and tons of money, that’s for sure. The two of them switched off with perfect rhythm, like they’d done this a hundred times. And in between all that, Haechi still managed to make her way over to you during one of her breaks, plopping onto the barstool across from you like she had been doing the past few weeks.
You giggled at something she said— a dumb joke about her shoe coming off mid-set—and nudged a cup of soda toward her as a peace offering. She smiled, biting her straw, eyes a little too lingering.
That kind of look she gave you didn’t go unnoticed. It had only been a few days of knowing each other, but it seems like Haechi Wang has a crush on you.
You didn’t mind it, it was harmless, and you even found it sweet.
But what you didn’t see was the sharp glance from the DJ booth, Bada watching from afar as the club lights moved around, hitting the bar every once in a while.
She hadn’t missed the way Haechi leaned far over the bar table, the way your laughter was silenced by the music yet so loud in action, the way your fingers lightly grazed Haechi’s hand when you passed her a napkin. She was mid-set, but her fingers had gone awry. She wasn’t even mixing properly anymore—just letting preloaded tracks carry the next twenty minutes.
She was watching. And for once, you seemed to have caught her attention, but who knows whatever Bada’s intentions are?
Without warning, she wrapped up her set early, just letting tracks play with prerecorded mixes. She weaved through the crowd, ignoring the drunk regulars calling her name, trying to grab her clothes as she walked by.
You were still behind the bar, laughing at something Haechi said again, elbow resting on the counter, when you saw her approaching from the corner of your eye.
And for the first time since you’d started working there a month ago, Bada walked right up to you.
“Hey,” she said smoothly, her voice clear even with blasting music and the loud murmurs of a combined crowd, as she leaned against the bar, eyes flicking from you to Haechi, then back again. “You’re new.”
Her hoodie was pulled halfway over her head, but that smirk—god, that smirk—was on full display. She extended a hand, confident, like she didn’t care if you shook it or not.
“I’m Bada.”
Her fingers brushed yours deliberately, her touch cool and slow like she was sizing you up in a single gesture. You didn’t move right away, but you weren’t looking away either, almost challenging her. There was a slight shift with the DJs, noticing Haechi tense slightly beside you.
“I’m Y/n.” You told her, because what else could you do?
The world seemed to slow down with the touch of her hand. She gave you this confident look that made her ten times more attractive than your initial thoughts about her. Below the hood, a cap covered her eyes a bit, adding to her mysteriousness.
Bada tilted her head, eyes locked on yours like she could already tell you weren’t the type to be scared off, which she already liked. And you… You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a very, very bad one. The interactions started small from then on. Just shots after your shift, staying longer at the club, even a cigarette offered between two fingers and a smirk you couldn't say no to.
Then it became this unimaginable thing for you.
You didn’t even realize it at first. One minute, you were trying to keep your head above water, working to pay for your mom’s medication, living paycheck to paycheck. Next, you were going out more than you were going home. You drank on nights that weren’t planned, stayed after your shift “just for a while” until the sun was creeping up.
All because of one damn woman.
Bada had a way of making everything feel liberating, even if it came with a hangover and hazy memories. She was chaos, and you’d usually be opposed to that, but she somehow made it work for you to enjoy. She’d look at you with this lazy grin, slip her hand into yours in the hallway of the club, and suddenly none of it felt like a mistake.
You were getting close to both of them—Haechi, who always smiled widely and brought you candies during her breaks, and Bada, who stole your breath with every glance your way. But it was Bada you were drawn to. You started craving her, the person who made your heart skip, even when you were told to do the exact opposite of that.
Then came that night. You barely remembered anything, just being there with Bada. You’d had more to drink than usual. Her arm was around your waist in the booth, and your head lolled onto her shoulder. You remembered her lips brushing your temple, her low voice in your ear saying something you couldn’t recall. Then it all went black from there.
When you wake up the next morning, your mouth is dry, your head is pounding, and you aren’t in your apartment.
Looking around the space, none of it seemed familiar, well, everything other than the sweater that gave it away. A gray hoodie with embroidered white flames on the sleeves told you exactly whose home this was.
Haechi.
Wrapped in a blanket on her small couch, shoes off, a glass of water already waiting on the table. She was sitting nearby in a hoodie and shorts, hair still a little damp like she’d showered while you slept.
“Hey,” she said gently. “You okay?”
You nodded slowly. “What... happened?”
“You blacked out,” she said. “Bada was too drunk, too, so I took you home, luckily, I was playing last night.”
You closed your eyes and exhaled, guilt crawling up your spine. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” she replied, voice soft but firm. “But I have to ask…”
You looked over at her. Her hands were fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “…why do you keep staying around her?”
The question came out in a nervous manner, and it wasn’t supposed to hold much weight, but it did for some odd reason.
“She’s never going to give you what you deserve,” Haechi continued, eyes meeting yours.
“You know that, right? She’s not… good for anyone, honestly.”
You didn’t answer. Because part of you knew she was right, like, for goodness' sake, the girl has you drowning in alcohol right now, and that wasn’t normal for you. But another part—the stupid part, the broken part, the part that saw the rare moments of tenderness—wanted to keep trying.
You didn’t know that Bada was standing in the hallway behind the closed door. She leaned against Haechi’s cracked doorframe. She’d come to check on you, maybe make some excuse about her picking up the jacket she let you borrow at the club, but your voices stopped her from knocking.
She didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when she heard Haechi ask the question—like it hurt to say it—kept her there. The way you didn’t answer was enough for Bada to hear.
The silence spoke volumes to the point it made her walk away and rethink everything about you.
And for once… she cared.
The next week was strange because Bada had just changed.
It wasn’t in a dramatic way, but it was clearly evident because you noticed. She stopped asking you to drink practically every night and started actually showing up to all her DJing sets. She waited for you after your shifts with a cold bottle of water, so cold that the beads of chilled water pooled on her palms. She would call or text if you got home safe, and when you said you were tired, she didn’t try getting you to come out to the party.
It was a bit jarring, to say the least.
You tried not to overthink any of it, but Haechi noticed, too. Her smile had started to fade when she saw the two of you together. The interactions weren’t out of the ordinary, having grown accustomed to seeing the two of you together. Yet, this time, she was seeing Bada in a completely different light.
A version that had the possibility of treating you right.
She was distant—still kind, still friendly, but her eyes didn’t linger the same. She didn’t hang out during breaks anymore, not unless Bada was doing a set.
“She’s trying,” you told her one night, during a slower shift. “She’s pretending,” Haechi replied, not believing the change happening right in front of her eyes. “Because she doesn’t like to lose.”
You wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come, and you weren't sure of everything either.
Then there were the other nights you weren’t bartending. When you came in late just to hang out or drop something off. You’d find Bada at the bar or by the booth, drink in hand, leaning too close to someone who wasn’t you. She wasn’t touching them, but her smile, the way she let them laugh at things that weren’t funny—it made your stomach twist.
She’d glance over at you once she noticed, maybe give a small nod, and sometimes that was enough to make you think about your decisions. Other times, it wasn’t.
Still, she never let it go too far, always coming back to you by the end of the night. You didn’t know if that meant anything to her, but it did to you, and you held onto it.
Then came the night she invited you over to her place. Her apartment, with its dim lights, had her playlist running in the background. Time went by quickly, unsure of how you even got there in the first place. Just sat down on her floor, shoulder brushing hers, and when she leaned in and kissed you, it felt like the world finally paused.
“I’m not good at this,” she whispered afterward, voice raspy against your neck. “But I’m trying.”
You simply believed her every word. It sounded desperate to erase any bad memories you had with her.
And when Haechi saw the two of you leaving together the next weekend, her expression was unreadable. She didn’t say anything, just offered you a small nod and went back to the booth.
But later that night, she caught you outside for a moment alone. “I just need you to know,” she said, hands shoved deep into her hoodie pockets, “if she breaks your heart, I won’t say ‘I told you so.’ But I will still be here.”
You smiled, eyes soft, not forgetting the clear sign of a good friend… or something Haechi hoped could’ve been more in the future. “Why?”
“Because I just want you to be okay,” she said.
It tore you up inside because you still chose Bada. Maybe you were just too blind to make the correct decision, but you weren’t going to regret it.
That wasn’t the kind of person you were. Not using your head, you were going to stand your ground and live with the consequences of choosing the person your heart wanted.
