suho practicing standing independently for months (based on the wheelchair, assuming he has some motor skill issues after waking up? correct me if i’m wrong) so that at sieun’s high school graduation he’ll stand up and cheer so loud 🥹🥹🥹🥹
HI I love your stories so much and keep rereading and was wondering if you could make a Suho x fem reader were there is a bit of rivalry from them but it's from the reader is a athlete and she runs and she is very fast but suho is faster then her and she hates that because he doesn't care about running but she manages to beat her.
She has a cold personality but she is very nice to sieun and beom seok every time suho comes and hangs out with then het smile will drop and she will say she has something to do and leave suho has no idea why she doesn't like and tries to talk to her but she always ignores him he wants them to be friends especially since he has feelings for her. She likes him to but she to mad/jealous to she it
One day he finally corners her and asks why she doesn't like him and she tells him.
sorry if this not very good anyway have a good day.
RIVALRY;ash
AHN SUHO X FEMREADER
N O T E : Sorry for coming too late, hope you like ittttt <33
Running wasn't just a hobby for her. It was her refuge, her whole life.
For as long as she could remember, the red track was the only place in the world where she felt completely in control. She loved the feeling of the wind hitting her face, the burn in her lungs on the final lap, and the sound of her sneakers slamming against the ground.
She was the best runner on the school's track team, the girl who took home the gold medals, the one who stayed out training on the track until the sun went down and her legs trembled from pure exhaustion. All her effort, all her dedication, the sleepless hours and the strict diets were focused on a single goal: being the fastest.
And she was. At least, until Ahn Suho decided he wanted to join in during PE class.
Suho was the exact definition of someone who had absolutely everything without lifting a single finger. He was handsome, popular for reasons even he didn't understand, the best fighter in the entire school, and, to her absolute misery, a natural athlete.
One day, during the physical fitness tests at the start of the year, the gym teacher made them run the hundred-meter dash. She prepared as if it were the Olympic finals. She stretched every muscle in her legs, did breathing exercises, and got into position at the starting line with flawless technique. Suho, on the other hand, had his uniform sloppy, his school shoes barely tied, was yawning loudly, and hadn't even bothered to warm up.
When the whistle blew, she ran with everything she had, pushing her body forward with the strength of years of training. But within seconds, she saw a brown blur pass by on her left side. Suho crossed the finish line nearly two full seconds before her, slowing down with a relaxed smile, not even sweating or breathing through his mouth.
"Wow, that was so fun!" he had said, scratching the back of his neck lazily, while she stayed behind, panting, feeling her pride shatter into a thousand pieces on the track floor.
From that damn day on, she developed an intense, one-sided rivalry against Ahn Suho.
She hated him. Or well, that's what her brain tried to convince her of every day. She hated that he didn't care about running. She hated that he wasn't on the school track team, that he didn't put in the slightest effort, that for him being fast was just a game while for her it was the purpose of her entire existence.
It was so infuriating to watch him do everything perfectly without trying that she simply decided to put up a wall between them.
The huge problem was that, underneath that distant facade she had so carefully constructed, she liked Ahn Suho. She liked him a lot. His bright, boyish smile drove her crazy, his loud laugh echoing through the hallways made her stomach flip, and the fierce way he defended the weaker kids from bullies was the most attractive thing in the world to her.
But her wounded pride and her massive jealousy over the guy's natural talent were far bigger than any romantic feelings she might have.
So she decided the best way to deal with Ahn Suho was to avoid him like the worst plague on earth.
A task that, unfortunately, became nearly impossible thanks to her own friends.
To most of the students at school, she was known as a girl with a cold, serious, and very distant demeanor. No one dared bother her because she always had her earbuds in or was too focused on her training. But she had a giant weakness, a soft spot she reserved for only two people: Yeon Sieun and Oh Beomseok.
She respected Sieun deeply for how calm and studious he was. They would often sit together in complete silence, him reading a massive book and her resting after a run, enjoying each other's company without needing to fill the air with words. And Beomseok... he was so shy, insecure, and quiet that her protective instincts just kicked in full force whenever he was near.
She always treated them with immense sweetness, a sweetness that left the other students with their mouths hanging open. She bought them drinks during breaks, lent them her class notes, and spoke to them in a soft voice that absolutely no one else at school knew.
It was a Thursday at lunchtime. The sun was shining brightly and the weather was pleasant. The three of them were sitting on the empty bleachers near the soccer field. She had a small smile on her face, a rare expression, as she pulled things out of her bag.
"You should eat a little more, Beomseok," she said, handing him a sweet melon bun she'd bought especially for him at the cafeteria. "You've been looking really thin lately. If you don't eat well, you're going to faint and you won't have any energy for afternoon classes."
Beomseok blushed a little, nervously adjusting his glasses, but took the plastic-wrapped bun with a shy, grateful smile. "Th-thank you. You're always so kind..."
Sieun, who was sitting to his left reading a thick history book, glanced up for a second. Without a single word, she pulled a carton of strawberry milk from her backpack and placed it directly on his lap. Sieun blinked slowly, looked at the pink carton, and then looked at her.
"Thank you," Sieun murmured, in his usual monotone, emotionless voice, but she knew perfectly well he appreciated it.
The atmosphere among the three of them was perfect. It was a safe, quiet space. Until a shout, full of energy and enthusiasm, shattered the peace of the field.
"SIEUN-AH! BEOMSEOK! There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you!"
The metal fence gate surrounding the field burst open. Ahn Suho came walking toward them in his typical sloppy uniform, shirt untucked, a giant smile lighting up the whole area, and that hyperactive puppy energy that defined him so well.
The exact instant she heard his voice, the sweet smile on her face vanished completely. It was like someone had flipped a light switch. Her expression immediately turned cold, tense, and distant. She grabbed her backpack from the concrete floor almost on pure instinct.
Suho climbed the bleachers taking the steps two at a time, without the slightest effort. When he saw her sitting there with his two best friends, his dark eyes lit up with excitement. Suho had always been incredibly drawn to that girl. He found it fascinating how serious she was, how hard she worked running on the track every single day, and, above all, he loved how beautiful she looked when the wind ruffled her hair.
He genuinely, truly wanted to be her friend. He wanted to get close to her, he wanted to make her laugh the way she did with Beomseok, but he couldn't figure out why she always treated him like garbage.
"Hi!" Suho greeted her first, stopping in front of the bleachers and running a hand through his messy hair. "What a coincidence finding you here too. Are you all having lunch together? I brought a couple of sandwiches from the store, we can share and—"
She didn't let him finish. She stood up abruptly, slinging the heavy backpack onto her right shoulder.
"I just remembered I have important things to do," she said, her voice flat, staring at a fixed point on the wall so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye. "I'm going to the track to train alone. See you later, Sieun, Beomseok."
She didn't wait for any of the three to answer. She went down the bleachers quickly, passing right by Suho, brushing his shoulder but completely ignoring his existence, and walked away fast toward the other side of the school campus.
Suho stood there on the stairs, his hand still half-extended offering the bag of sandwiches, blinking a few times in pure confusion. His bright smile deflated completely, his shoulders dropping, looking like a big puppy who'd just been scolded for absolutely no reason. He let his arm fall to his side and let out a long sigh, dropping heavily into the spot on the bleachers she'd just left empty.
"What did I do wrong this time?" Suho asked, looking at Sieun with genuine frustration on his face. "I didn't even say anything bad to her. I swear. I just said hi and offered food. Why does she hate me so much? I swear I always try to be nice to her. Yesterday I bought her a drink and she told me she wasn't thirsty, but five minutes later I saw her drinking water from the fountain tap!"
Beomseok looked down at the ground, fidgeting with the bun wrapper, feeling bad for the guy but not knowing what to say to comfort him. Sieun closed his history book, took a sip of strawberry milk through the straw, and looked at Suho with his typical bored, direct expression.
"It's pretty obvious why she avoids you all the time," Sieun said, getting straight to the point the way he always did.
"Why? Tell me! If I'm too loud, I can be quieter. If she doesn't like the way I smell, I can change soap or wear cologne. I just want her to talk to me the way she talks to you two!" Suho complained, letting himself fall backward on the bleachers, staring at the clouds in the sky with desperation. "I like her so much. I really, really like her. But I feel like if I take one single step closer to her, she's going to punch me right in the face."
Sieun sighed softly, shaking his head. "She doesn't hate you because you're loud or annoying, Suho. She avoids you because you're faster than her without even trying. Her ego is wounded because she works incredibly hard and you don't. You have to fix this yourself; we can't get involved in that."
Suho fell silent, thinking about those words for the rest of the afternoon, processing the information in his mind.
The next day, fate seemed to decide it wanted to make things even more tense between them.
It was the last class block of the day: PE. The teacher, a man who loved competitions, had organized relay races and speed trials on the school's official track. She was wearing her black athletic shorts, her white moisture-wicking t-shirt, and her running shoes laced tight. She was sweating, stretching, and warming up her leg muscles, ready to give it her all on the track.
But when the teacher paired everyone up for the big final 400-meter race, she felt the blood boil in her veins.
She was set to run, once again, against Ahn Suho.
Suho walked slowly toward the white starting line painted on the tartan track. He was wearing the school gym uniform, but as always, he looked like he was taking a stroll in the park. He glanced at her sideways and gave her a small, nervous, guilty smile, trying to be friendly and soften the obvious tension radiating off her.
She ignored him. She locked her gaze on the curved track stretching out ahead of her. Not today, she thought furiously, clenching her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. Today I'll break my damn legs if I have to, I'll cough up blood, but I am not letting this idiot beat me again while he yawns.
"On your marks..." the teacher shouted, raising the whistle.
She crouched down, pressing her fingertips onto the rough ground, lifting her hips into the perfect starting position. Suho, beside her, simply stayed standing, bending his knees slightly with zero technique.
"Go!"
The sound of the whistle cut through the air. She shot forward like a bullet out of a cannon. Her sneakers slammed against the tartan track. She used absolutely all her technique, remembering every tip from her coach: every measured breath, every arm movement calculated to perfection to cut through wind resistance, driving her knees up with power. She was leading the race.
But when she hit the 200-meter curve, she heard the sound of footsteps right behind her. They weren't heavy footsteps. They weren't the footsteps of someone getting tired. They were light. Surprisingly quick and rhythmic.
Suho pulled up alongside her in the outer lane. She couldn't help but glance at him sideways for a split second.
He wasn't breathing desperately through his mouth. He didn't look like he was suffering at all. He was just running, keeping exactly the same pace as her with a natural ease that sent a sharp pain through the pit of her stomach. It was infuriating.
The sheer frustration instantly turned into pure fuel for her body. She gritted her teeth until her jaw hurt and forced her body to go far beyond its physical limit. Her lungs burned as if she were swallowing fire, and her calves screamed in pain. There were barely fifty meters left to the finish line. Suho was beside her, nearly shoulder to shoulder, but she refused to give in. She wasn't going to let him win. Not this time. Not in front of the whole class.
She closed her eyes for a microsecond, gave one last desperate push, and lunged forward, breaking the wind with her chest.
She crossed the finish line.
An instant, barely a fraction of a second later, Suho crossed it.
She collapsed to the ground immediately, bracing her hands on her trembling knees, breathing loudly and desperately. She was dizzy, her vision was a little blurry, and she was drenched in cold sweat, but she had done it. She had won. She had beaten Ahn Suho for the first time in her life.
She expected, knowing guys their age, that he'd be angry. She expected him to complain loudly, to kick the ground, or to demand a rematch right away because his fragile guy ego was wounded.
But when she looked up, still trying to catch her breath, she saw Suho walking toward her. He was barely panting a little, running a hand through his messy hair. He had a huge, bright, and completely genuine smile on his sweaty face.
"Whoa!" he exclaimed, stopping a couple of meters in front of her, clapping a few times with childish and sincere enthusiasm. "You were incredible today! You're super fast, seriously! I swear, I tried to keep up with you at the end but you completely left me behind. Congratulations, that was awesome to watch!"
That reaction. That damn reaction was the straw that broke the camel's back of all her frustrations.
That happy, totally carefree attitude shattered her on the inside. He didn't care in the slightest about having lost. He didn't care about running, he didn't care about the competition. He was just clapping and smiling at her as if the whole thing were a stupid children's game.
For her, winning that race had cost pain, hours of practice, cramps at dawn, and constant sacrifices. For him, losing meant absolutely nothing.
The hatred, the jealousy, the frustration, and that stupid secret crush she had on him mixed together in her chest, creating a fireball until she felt a horrible urge to cry from pure rage and helplessness.
She didn't say thank you. She didn't even spare him a small victorious smile.
She straightened up as best she could, shot him a look full of contempt and fury, and walked straight toward the PE equipment room, searching for a dark, empty place to hide from the world and from him.
Suho stood frozen in the middle of the track, arms at his sides. The bright smile vanished completely from his face, replaced by a grimace of worry. He watched the girl walk away at a fast pace, her shoulders tense and her fists clenched.
The advice Sieun had given him the day before echoed loudly in his head. You have to fix this yourself.
Suho clenched his jaw, left his classmates murmuring behind his back, and walked with quick, long, determined strides after her.
She reached the equipment room, a small, dusty room that smelled of rubber, full of blue gym mats, worn-out basketballs, and stacked plastic cones. She went in quickly, trying to calm her still-labored breathing and wipe away with the back of her hand the stupid tears of frustration that threatened to spill from her eyes.
But before she could even relax for a second in the darkness, the heavy metal door slammed shut behind her with a dry thud. She jumped in fright and spun around quickly.
Ahn Suho was standing in front of the closed door. He was no longer smiling. His expression was completely serious, and there was a shadow of frustration in his dark eyes that she had never, in all the time she'd known him, seen before. He was much taller than her, and standing there in the cramped space, blocking the only exit from the room, he looked incredibly intimidating.
"Let me out of here, Ahn Suho," she demanded, trying to make her voice sound cold and authoritative, though it trembled a little from the leftover exhaustion of the race and the lump in her throat.
Suho didn't move a single inch. He leaned his broad back against the metal door and crossed his arms, blocking the way completely.
"No. I'm not letting you out until you tell me what the hell your problem with me is once and for all."
"I don't have a problem with you. Move away from the door right now."
She walked toward him, ready to shove him aside to reach the handle, but Suho was much faster. He grabbed her wrist firmly, without hurting her, but with enough strength to stop her in her tracks. He made her step back toward the center of the room.
"Okay, enough of this," he said, raising his voice a little, letting the frustration come to light. "What did I do to you? Tell me, please, just tell me what I did to make you treat me like this every single day. I swear on my life all I've ever tried to do is be your friend. I try to get close to you, I talk to you politely, I try to include you in plans, and you look at me like I'm the worst piece of trash walking around this school. You run away from me like I have a contagious disease, but then I watch from a distance how you smile and are so sweet with Sieun and Beomseok. Why can't I get that too? Why do you hate me so much?"
She stood frozen in place. Suho was genuinely hurt. His voice sounded desperate and broken.
She tried to free herself from his grip, pulling her arm, but he didn't let go.
"Because it's unfair!" she burst out suddenly. Her voice echoed off the walls of the small equipment room, full of anger, resentment, and tears. "Because it's fucking unfair!"
Suho was so shocked by her outburst that he loosened his grip on her wrist almost immediately, but he stood firm in front of the door. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about how I kill myself training every single damn day, Ahn Suho!" she yelled at him, shoving his chest with both hands with all her strength, making him stumble back half a step until his back hit the metal. "I get up at five in the morning to run alone in the cold! Every single muscle in my body hurts all the time! I diet, I train until I want to throw up from the effort, I dedicate my whole life, every second of my free time, to being the fastest on that track. For me, running isn't a hobby, it's not a gym class game. It's everything I have!"
She was breathing heavily, and thick tears began to roll down her flushed cheeks without her being able or willing to stop them. She was sick of hiding.
"And then you show up..." she continued, her voice dropping, cracking into a sob full of pure helplessness. "You show up to the track dragging your feet, yawning from sleep, not even warming up for a minute, in your stupid regular shoes... and you're faster than me. You're better than me without even really trying. Everything comes easy to you. You're the perfect guy, the best fighter, the fastest. You don't put in effort, you don't care at all, and you still beat me every time. And today... today when I finally felt like I broke my legs managing to beat you, what do you do? You applaud me like it's a damn joke! It didn't even hurt you to lose!"
Suho stared at her with wide eyes, completely in shock. Never, in all the time they'd been crossing paths in the hallways, had it occurred to him that that was the real reason behind her constant rejection. He had thought of a thousand reasons: that she disliked his loud personality, that she considered him a delinquent for fighting, not that his natural talent for sports was hurting her this deeply.
"I hate it..." she whispered, lowering her head, feeling pathetic, envious, and small for crying a river in front of him. "I hate that you're so perfect. I hate that you make me feel like all my damn effort is worth absolutely nothing next to your natural talent. And what I hate most... is that despite all of this, I can't help liking you so much."
The equipment room fell silent. The only sound was her small sobs, her face now covered with both hands, ashamed of having let the last confession slip out in a fit of hysteria. She wrapped her arms around herself, waiting for Suho to laugh at her. She expected him to tell her she was crazy, that she was an immature, envious brat, and to open the door and leave and never speak a word to her again.
"I didn't know..." Suho finally murmured. His voice was incredibly soft now, stripped of all frustration.
"Well, now you do. Now let me out of here," she pleaded, her voice broken, not daring to lift her gaze from the floor.
But Suho didn't move toward the handle. Instead, he took a step forward. He closed the small distance between them until he was millimeters from her trembling body.
He lifted a large hand and, with a gentleness that didn't fit at all with the guy who threw punches with bare knuckles if someone made him angry enough, dried a tear from her left cheek with the pad of his thumb. The contact of his warm skin against hers made her breath catch in her throat.
"You're wrong about something really important," Suho said, looking her straight in the teary eyes with an intensity that made her shiver completely. "Today, in the race, I wasn't faking it. I gave my hundred percent in the final meters. I tried to catch up to you with everything I had, I swear, but I just couldn't. You beat me fair and square."
She opened her eyes wide, surprised, her damp lashes trembling. "What?"
"You beat me," he repeated, with a small, proud, sincere smile that lit up his features. "Because I might have a bit of genetics and natural talent for moving fast, but I don't have your endurance. I don't have your technique, and I definitely don't have your willpower. You built your speed by breaking your back every single day under the sun. I could never, not in a million years, do what you do. That's why I clapped for you at the finish line. I swear I wasn't making fun of you. I was amazed. I've always admired you so much for how hard you work."
She was speechless. All the rage she'd been accumulating for months in her chest began to evaporate, exposing the real feeling she had tried to bury under layers of anger.
Suho lowered his hand from her cheek and took her left hand, intertwining his long fingers with hers slowly, securing the grip.
"Besides... I'm far from being perfect," he continued, lowering his voice to a rough whisper, leaning a little closer until she could smell his cologne mixed with the sweat from the race. "I'm a total idiot most of the time, I talk too much, and I'm always getting into trouble. And I've been suffering for months, feeling like a total loser, because the most incredible, most beautiful girl in the entire school ran away from me every time I tried to just say a simple hello."
Her heart leaped inside her ribcage. "You..." she stammered, feeling an immense heat rising up her neck and staining her cheeks red.
"I thought you genuinely hated me," Suho whispered, dropping his gaze to her parted lips for a second before looking back into her dark eyes.
The proximity, his confession, and the sweet way he was holding her hand made her stupid wall of pride collapse completely and turn to dust. She couldn't keep lying anymore. She didn't want to keep running from him anymore.
"I don't hate you, Suho..." she confessed, her voice barely a trembling murmur in the closed room. "I've never actually hated you."
Suho arched an eyebrow, a small, mischievous smile creeping up the corner of his lips, bringing back a bit of his usual playful attitude. "Oh, no? Then why do you always look like you want to stab me whenever I show up with the guys?"
She let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling incredibly stupid for her childish behavior, but at the same time immensely freed from the weight she'd been carrying.
"Because... I hate that I like you so much and that, at the same time, you make me feel like a loser when we run together. I wanted to hate you. For my brain, it was much easier to make up that I hated you than to admit out loud that every time you smile I feel like I can't breathe."
Suho's reaction was immediate and spectacular.
Sheer surprise lit up his face completely. His eyes opened impossibly wide, shining with a mix of shock, relief, and a happiness so huge it seemed like it didn't fit in his own body. The hyperactive, strong, loud guy was, for the first time, at a loss for words.
"Wait a second..." Suho swallowed audibly, squeezing her hand tighter. "You like me? You meant that? You really like me?"
She nodded slowly, biting her lower lip, too embarrassed to dare say it out loud a third time.
Suho let out a raspy laugh, not mocking, but of pure, absolute disbelief. He let go of her hand, but only so he could lift both arms and cup her face between his large, warm hands.
"Damn it, I lost entire months of my life thinking you wanted to murder me in my sleep," he murmured, his face just inches from hers. His smile was so big it wrinkled the corners of his eyes from sheer happiness.
Before she could process what was happening or respond to the joke, Suho leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers with urgency.
It was a quick and cautious kiss at first, as if he were testing the waters, making sure it was real and not a dream. But when he felt her close her eyes, sigh softly, and kiss him back shyly, lifting her own hands to cling to his broad shoulders, the kiss changed. It turned much deeper, desperate, and comforting. Suho's hands caressed her cheeks with his thumbs, pulling her body closer to his, making her completely forget the smell of dust and cheap plastic in the equipment room, making her forget the exhaustion from the race.
In that instant, the entire universe shrank down to Ahn Suho, the guy who drove her crazy, the talented guy, and the guy who, without even having to try, had stolen her heart completely.
When they finally had to pull apart from lack of air, both were breathing heavily, but Suho couldn't wipe the goofy grin off his face. He leaned his forehead against hers, tenderly stroking her dark hair, still damp with sweat.
"Starting today, I promise to run way slower if it means you won't run away from me during breaks," he whispered, joking under his breath, his eyes half-closed.
She gave him a small punch to the chest with her closed fist, though she couldn't help smiling too, feeling a warmth in her stomach. "If you dare let me win on purpose, I swear on my life I'll break your nose myself, Ahn Suho. I want you to run with everything you've got. And I guarantee I'll keep beating you fair and square."
Suho let out another bright, loud laugh, stealing another quick kiss from her lips.
"That sounds like a fair deal, coach. But now that I know for sure you like me... you're going to have to put up with me all the time. I'm going to sit and have lunch with you guys every single day. And you're going to have to start buying strawberry milk for me instead of Sieun."
