── .✦ pairings: Yeon Sieun. Ahn Suho. Oh Beomseok. Park Humin. Go Hyuntak. Kang Wooyoung. Geum Seongje. Na Baekjin. Baek Dongha. Do Seongmok. Jeon Yeongbin. Yeongi x gn!reader
contains. fluff. whc characters showing possessiveness when they get jealous. rude!Gotak. everyone else is sweet (I have one sided beef with him for a while — idk why) wuhluhwuh
warnings. none wc. 1.9k
note. we are back on track. thanks to everyone for 1.5k!! let’s see if I still got it
YEON SIEUN
likes having you sit on his desk when you’re talking to someone
“You totally did cheat, though.”, you half-heartedly accused your class-mate, a little envious to see him achieve a higher grade than you.
He just shook his head as he explained to you one more time how hard he’d been studying.
Sieun was characteristically quiet behind you, just the faint shuffle of papers gaining your attention. You whirled around to see the space he’s made for you by swiping all his workbooks to the side so you could sit.
You pointed him a look but he kept his head down. With a light chuckle, you planted your palms on the wood and heaved yourself up to sit, legs bouncing in the air. “It makes sense that Sieun gets better grades cause he’s smarter than all of us together, but you on the other hand..”, you trailed, glimpsing at your boyfriend to see a subtle lift in the corner of his lips as he continued rehearsing his vocabulary.
AHN SUHO
arm around your shoulder
You were casually chatting up a guy from your class, asking him for details about his sneakers because Suho’s birthday was coming up and you thought that the shoes would be a nice fit on him.
“It’d be cool if you could just send me the link.”, you suggested, jumping as a heavy arm ranked around your shoulders.
“What are we talking about?” Your boyfriend’s voice sounded casual, yet his demeanour was everything but, the act itself an obvious display of belonging. “Nothing.”, you just quipped, motioning with your head for the classmate to dip.
He obliged, muttering a quick goodbye, and instantly Suho’s grip around you loosened, the tick in his jaw still very evident to you.
OH BEOMSEOK
holds your hand, fidgets with your ring
Your head rested casually on Beomseok’s shoulder, eyes fixed on Yeongbin, half listening to a story you’ve heard before. His gaze kept snapping towards you while he was talking, adding substitute to the tale, hands motioning.
Beomseok was following his friend’s eyes, the hint of a glare sparkling in his own as he dropped his hand to lie next to yours, casually grabbing it before interlacing his fingers with yours. „You okay?“, you asked him in a whisper, but he just hummed.
A light tickle against your middle finger had you glimpse down, a smile tugging on your lips as you watched him roll your ring between his fingers.
PARK HUMIN (BAKU)
back hug
The evening had just set, light gusts of wind tugging on your clothes as you threw another ball, biting your lip in concentration. You held your breath as the basketball bounced against the basket’s board, swirling one round against the rim before dipping right in, the net carefully guiding the rubber ball back to the ground.
A cheer erupted from around you, your friends impressed by your first score. You jumped in excitement. Gotak was the first to close the distance, giving you a high five as he grinned down on you.
Baku, on the other hand, engulfed you in a hug, both arms draped around your front as he pressed your back into his chest.
Your heart skipped a beat at that, the embrace pushing the air out your lungs.
GO HYUNTAK (GOTAK)
drapes his jacket around your shoulders
You checked your phone for a new message, but there was still none from your boyfriend. You sighed, leaning back on your chair.
The sun had dipped low but the heat still radiated off it, gleamy rays of light swathing you in. You had agreed to meet up at this convenience store but it looked like Gotak was running late, so you rose from the chair and padded back into the store.
When Gotak had finally arrived, seemingly a little out of breath — hinting that he had run to get there faster, you were too indulged in your conversation with the clerk to notice his arrival. And you were laughing.
Gotak stepped up to you with his jaw clenched, startling you as he tossed his jacket over your shoulders. Your head snapped back to him at once, smile faltering as you took in his expression.
“I’m not exactly cold.”, you let him know, tugging on the polyester as you tried to pull it off, but Gotak wasn’t having that, pulling it tighter around your body as he placed a hand on your lower back.
“I didn’t exactly ask.”
KANG WOOYOUNG
got you a necklace with his initials on it
Wooyoung‘s gaze was burning holes into your skin, but you refused to look over to him, a smile tugging on your lips.
The guy in front of you was on an even level with you since you were sitting on the kitchen table, originally waiting for your friend to return from the bathroom, so your group could head to the club (cause house parties are just pre-game).
It took less than two minutes for a guy to approach but less than one for your boyfriend to come up. The guy in front of you startled as Wooyoung had appeared, yet he refused to leave.
The skin on your neck tingled where his fingers brushed your hair to the side, the fluoroscent light catching the metal acronym in a gleamy glow. KW.
The other guy‘s expression dropped as he put two and two together, spinning on his heels to approach someone else.
„You‘re so lame.“, you cooed, affection laced in every word.
GEUM SEONGJE
pulls you to sit on his lap
Ever since Seongje had lent you his Wii-U, he hadn’t seen the device anywhere besides your hands.
You couldn’t help it, the games were too good and the endless opportunities to play a 1v1 was just appealing to your competetive spirit.
You were enthralled in your game and Seongje barely paid attention to you, just pointing you a quick glance as he saw you standing right before the seat instead of just sitting down. (It was getting too heated — you had to stand to win).
As you let out a laugh, throwing your head back slightly, you re-gained his attention. He ripped his headphones down to his neck as he inspected your screen. He had assumed your airpods were due to listening to the soundtrack, not for chatting.
“Who-“, he cut himself — you couldn’t hear him either way.
He huffed, wrapping both hands around your hips to pull you down on his lap. You barely reacted, eyes locked on the tiny screen. He wrapped his hands around you and brought his ear next to you, trying to filter out a voice from the spill of soundtrack spilling out the buds. He couldn’t really make out any voices, except-. There. A laugh. Rich and loud. That one friend of yours.
He clicked his tongue, leaning back in his seat before returning his attention back on the game he forgot to pause.
NA BAEKJIN
death stare at whoever you’re talking with + physical barrier
You were scrolling Tiktok on Baekjin’s couch, casually sprawled onto the leather as you swiped to the next video, unwitting to the volume that was pulsing out of the speaker.
Baekjin fixed you with a stare, but merely shook his head as you kept scrolling, oblivious. Then the door snapped open and a few guys you couldn’t place spilled inside. Like it was your cue, you rose from your position and padded over to your boyfriend, putting your body behind his chair like it was shielding you from the encounter.
Whatever the guys wanted, was a matter of a few minutes and as soon as they left, you tucked your chin on Baekjin’s shoulder, placing a quick peck on the side of his face.
Back in the days he would jut his chin towards you or wave you over but over the time you had learned to distance yourself from anyone who came through that door.
With a stretch of your limbs you rose back up, heading for your usual spot, but your boyfriend grabbed your wrist to halt you in your step.
“Lower the volume.”
BAEK DONGHA
hand on your waist
There was a new food truck in your city, offering stuff you hadn’t seen outside your phone before, so naturally you had to try.
Dongha was on the phone beside you, discussing some union-related business, as it was your turn. You stepped up, placing your order and when you looked up and met a familiar face, you laughed. The vendor was a classmate of yours.
Dongha’s head whirled towards you, eyebrows knitted as his gaze darted from you to the uniformed guy.
Without further ado, he ranked one arm around you, hand digging into your hip as he continued the phone call, smiling proudly hence you didn’t even react to the possessive act.
DO SEONGMOK
hand in your front pocket
“He’ll be here any minute.”, you assured your boyfriend, earning a silent nod. Just as you lowered your arm, your phone’s screen lit up with a new notification.
“He’s here.” Your eyes were scanning the place, craning your neck to look past people, hoping to catch a glimpse of your friend.
A tap on your shoulder had you whirl into the opposite direction, lips split into a smile as you recognised the familiar face. He held his notebook to you with his arm stretched, but your fingers merely graced the paperback before a big hand slipped into the front pocket of your jeans.
Seongmok pulled you back against his chest with a light grab on your thigh, his fingers raising goosebumps across the same path as the cold seeped through the thin layer of cotton that seperated the denim from your skin.
He used his free hand to grab the notebook off your friend, nodding once as he held it to your chest for you to grab.
JEON YEONGBIN
head on your lap
Yeongbin was half asleep when you stumbled into your own room, doing a double take as you caught him sprawled on your sheets, face buried in your pillow.
„I can‘t give you attention, right now.“, you sneered. „I have a group project.“ Yeongbin groaned at that, lifting his head just enough to look at you.
„Invite them over.“
You didn‘t really see any reason as to not do it, preferring your home to any cafe.
Your project partners arrived shortly after and you immediately got to work. Yeongbin causally greeted the people he knew from shared classes or the hallway, but found himself irritated every time someone hogged your attention. In his mind they were feigning needing something.
You were sitting cross legged on your bed while the rest of the group had occupied a spot on your carpet, only one of them bold enough to sit in your chair, spinning around every once in a while.
Yeongbin was laying behind you, casually coming up behind you until he could nestle on your side, dipping his head to rest it on your thigh. Your hand found his hair immediately, fingers intertwined in his hair as you started to caress his scalp.
This way you wouldn’t stand up again.
YEONGI
making you crowd her space
You were sitting on your desk, casually chatting up a classmate when Yeongi returned from the bathroom. Her eyes narrowed immediately at the sight of you talking to someone else than her.
She stalked over to you in a few strides, coming to a halt right before you, but as your friend glanced at her in a confused matter, you kept taking, wrapping you legs around her torso as you pulled her back against your chest, tucking your chin on her shoulder.
The bell announced the end of the break and you all moved from your clusters to get back at your assigned seats. As you loosened your grip on your girlfriend, she turned to you with a scowl.
“Don’t talk to other people.”
“Leave me alone.”, you pressed through a chuckle, lightly kicking at her before sliding down the desk and heading for your chair.
★ ﾟ๑ I'D DO ANTHING JUST FOR ME TO SEE YOU AGAIN ୧ ⊹ ࣪
ᡴꪫ which yeon sieun sees you visiting him
୧ ⊹ ࣪ first part ／ party on you
୧ ⊹ ࣪ second part ／console me, and then i'll leave without a trace
──⠀ angst to fluff , set on ep7 of s2 , depictions of self harm , bullying , graphic scenes
⸝⸝ ◜◡◝ i got sick ... so i couldn't finish writing yesterday. please do make some requests <3
reader will be called dokja ／ because in reader in korean is dokja
For an entire year, she had tried everything to make herself feel whole again.
For someone, so bright — her smile had become rare, something she stored away in a locked box, fearing it would shatter if she opened it.
The fluorescent lights in the hallway buzzed above her, and the cold linoleum floor echoed each step as if the empty school itself whispered her name. Every corner held eyes that whispered behind tilted heads; every passing shoulder carried a story she used to be part of. She walked through that river of eyes like a stone sinking silently, carrying the weight of whispers in her chest.
She remembered how it felt at first, when the quiet ache had swelled like a balloon inside her ribs. She had tried to stretch it with excuses – busying herself with homework until her hands cramped, munching down snacks until her stomach ached, even jogging until her legs turned to jelly – anything to squeeze out a little satisfaction.
But nothing made the emptiness truly leave. It was like trying to fill a black hole with water; every drop vanished before it could make a ripple. In class, she doodled nothing except the back of her mind on the margins of her notebook: a heart that wouldn’t fill, a mouth that wouldn’t smile.
During lunch, while others crowded around tables trading jokes and laughter, she found a quiet corner.
The cafeteria lights and clatter of trays felt distant, as if she watched it happen in someone else’s dream. She chewed slowly on her rice, its dull flavor on her tongue.
She wondered if they were wondering why she ate so slowly, or thought she must eat quickly to stay strong. In her head, she counted the seconds between bites, hoping to feel any sensation more than the gnawing void inside.
She would glance on the table near her, It was the table they used to sat on. But she quickly disregard the gnawing pain of memories her brain kept locked in.
She heard the rumors.
Kids at her locker thinking she couldn’t hear, imagining her knuckles bruised from something they didn’t understand, lips curling into cruel stories.
She was the shadow stretching long across the hallway’s bright walls – not quite human, not quite monster. Some were scared to approach, afraid she might lash out with hands that had, one time, raised to defend something small and precious.
Each morning felt like climbing a hill she could never reach the top of. Even the sun casting light through her kitchen window failed to warm her insides. Her reflection in the mirror as she put on her uniform was a girl with tired eyes, the kind that quiet mornings and too many secrets give you.
She wondered if the corners of her mouth had forgotten how to go up. On some mornings, she pinched her palm with her nails just to feel a flash of anything real, a proof that she was still there and not just an echo.
She often thought about who she used to be, or who she wanted to be.
Sometimes, in rare moments alone in the afternoon, she would hum a tune she once loved, and for a breath she’d almost believe everything would be okay again.
But when the bell rang and the hurried footsteps as the hallway became empty, reality clung to her again like a cold coat. She straightened her spine, squared her shoulders, tried to make herself small and unnoticeable so she could disappear into the background.
It was easier this way – so people wouldn't come closer anymore.
As the year dragged on, she built a quiet routine of coping.
Some days, after the final bell, she would find a hidden corner of the library and bury her face in a book, leaning into the paper and print so she could hold a whisper of someone else’s story.
Other days, she walked home along side streets, feet crunching on gravel, head down so that the roofs of houses blurred her vision and no one would say her name.
At night, before sleep stole her away, she sometimes imagined a dinner table where just once someone passed her plate without a warning glance. Those dreams faded by dawn, leaving only the morning ache.
She watched the other students as if from behind glass. They passed her in the halls—heads held high, friends jabbering shoulder-to-shoulder. They worried about tests, cram schools, summer vacation or going out.
Sometimes at night, late when everything was dark and the house was empty, she touched the scars she kept hidden on her wrist. They were faint lines, as if she had cut herself just enough to feel. Enough to remember that I’m here.
The ache in her stomach and heart became the same longing, and she ached to feel anything but hollow. Yet morning would come, as it always did, and she would tuck those memories back inside her ribcage and wear her uniform once more.
She was careful now.
Careful to walk in the center of the corridors so no one had reason to crowd her. Careful to keep her voice low if a teacher asked her a question.
She preferred to blend into the pattern of her desk in class or the gray cement wall outside the school, so that anyone might forget she was there at all. She told herself that being invisible was the least she could offer the world.
Sometimes when she passed a reflection in a store window, she stared at the girl who looked back with hungry eyes and wondered if that was her, really, or just another stranger pulling a cart alongside the frozen aisles of life. She envied how warm and bright her classmates appeared in her imagination, as if they wore their warmth and hunger on their tongues without any effort.
She started learning how to ride Suho’s motorcycle a month after everything happened. Not because she had a reason. Just because sitting still made her feel like she’d disappear.
It wasn’t easy. Her hands weren’t made for handlebars or throttle grips, and the engine always roared too loud for her quiet head. But she kept practicing. Around the block, then across the neighborhood, then down the same roads Suho used to ride when he was still—
She doesn’t finish the sentence. She just keeps riding.
Sometimes she visits his grandmother first, carrying grocery bags that dig red marks into her palms. They don’t talk much—just share the silence like old friends do. She helps clean, picks up the mail, waters the plants that Suho forgot to before everything fell apart. And then, like ritual, she visits the hospital.
She doesn’t bring flowers anymore. That stopped after the fifth week. Now it’s just her, a quiet chair, and Suho’s breathing. She talks sometimes, about nothing. About school. About how the vending machine’s been out of her favorite drink for a week straight. About the bike.
She took the job to keep her mind busy. A delivery service. Something that paid just enough and asked for nothing back. Using Suho's helmet that's too big on her because she couldn't used the pink helmet he brought for her, a schedule, and a willingness to keep going even when you’re tired.
She took the job because she wanted to make up for what she didn’t do—what she should’ve done back then. Maybe if she earned enough, it could at least cover Suho’s expenses for a few months. So when he woke up, he wouldn’t have to think about wasting time trying to make money again. He could just rest, catch up with everything he missed.
That was the idea. That was a brilliant plan.
Oh, how wrong she was.
It was hard to juggle everything—school during the day, taekwondo classes after, then deliveries until late. Her body ached more often now. Sleep became something borrowed, not earned. And sometimes, when she stared too long at her schedule, she wondered how Suho managed to do it all.
Then she let out a bitter chuckle.
Right. He didn’t study much.
He tried—she remembered that. Showing up to class with tired eyes, scribbling half-hearted notes, pretending to care when the teacher called on him. But studying was never the plan for him. He wasn’t built for libraries or lecture halls. He was planning to survive. To make a living. To take care of the people he loved, even if that meant running himself to the ground.
Now here she was, retracing his steps. As if mimicking his life could somehow bring him back. As if it could undo what happened.
But the truth was, she wasn’t doing this because it was right.
She was doing it because she didn’t know how else to grieve.
She was doing it to remember that she still lived for him—the only one.
It wasn’t like she suddenly believed in responsibility or wanted to prove something to her parents—they didn’t care either way. They nagged her about it at first, asking why she had to deliver food like some desperate kid. She told them she was trying to live like an adult now.
That was a lie.
What she really meant was: I need to do something that hurts a little. Something that makes me feel like I’m still here.
She picked up the helmet, looked at the old bike, and thought, If I could ride it well enough, maybe it would feel like Suho was still beside me.
At times, when she was in the saddle delivering food, her route veered past Sieun’s old neighborhood before she could stop herself. The engine’s hum would carry her right to the curb beneath that familiar streetlamp where they once sheltered from rain.
She’d cut the engine and sit in silence, remembering how he held the umbrella too high—as if standing close was its own kind of risk. She’d force a small, aching smile, tell herself it was only a shortcut on the map.
Other days, she’d pull up behind a low brick wall, park the bike with a screech, and leap off, ready to startle him. But in her memory, his voice would reach her first: “Too loud,” he’d said, never bothering to turn around.
So she’d shake off the pain, clip her helmet on again, and push forward—deliveries waiting, regret left to catch up on its own.
Most of all, she rode just like Suho used to—late into the evening, weaving between streetlights and memories. Each package she carried was fuel for her guilt, her promise to cover weeks of missed chores and unspoken goodbyes.
She was learning to ride the weight of her grief as surely as she learned to handle the throttle: both made her body ache, but at least it meant she was still moving.
She remembered, when she smiled at the mirror for the first time in a long while.
It wasn’t a triumphant smile—more like a small, crooked thing, half-formed and unsure, but there nonetheless. The bathroom was filled with the sharp scent of drugstore dye, gloves stained with streaks of artificial chestnut. She worked in silence, dragging the brush through her hair, clumsily but with care, as if repainting herself would somehow peel away the weight she carried on her shoulders.
When she finished drying it, the strands fanned out like paper—too soft, too light, the color warmer than she imagined. Under the cheap lighting, it almost looked orange. She stared at her reflection, blinked once, and let out a short, surprised laugh.
She looked like she was wearing a wig. Like a stranger trying on someone else’s softness.
She remembered when the three would glance at her when she questioned them if she would look good in a light brown haired color. The two nodded and Beomseok complimented her with a thought, then Suho—that bitch.
Said, "If you ever dyed your hair. You would look like wearing a wig"
She chuckled to herself that a kick was met on his face after he made a comment.
And yet... something about it made her pause. Not in shame. Not in regret. But in that fleeting, suspended moment where grief and girlhood blur.
It didn’t fix anything. But it made her feel like maybe she could try again.
Even if it was just hair.
Even if it was just for a second.
Then, it started.
The bullying.
The girls started again, their voices high and biting, a chorus of yapping dogs circling, teeth bared but too afraid to bite. Each word they threw at her was a stone, meant to make her crack. But the cracks were inside. The outside? The outside was numb, cold—so cold it almost felt like she wasn't even there. Not until the bathroom, cornered between the walls, did she feel the heat of her own anger rising.
Not at them.
No, not at them.
At herself.
She hated how she'd let it get to this point. How had she become this quiet thing—this thing that let them talk, let them push? If it were the old her, she'd have torn them apart by now. Fists flying, voice roaring. She would’ve been the storm they couldn't handle. She would’ve shown them what it meant to not be afraid.
A year ago, she would have struck first—fists flying before thought. She would have tasted the shock in their eyes as blood bloomed on her knuckles. But that girl was gone. Now she stood still, back pressed to cool porcelain, heart hammering a fierce rhythm against her ribs.
But not now.
Now, silence was all she could afford them. Giving them her attention, her energy—it felt like losing, like handing them the power to keep dragging her back into their pit. So, she waited. Let them bark, let them jeer.
She was waiting for the one to make a move. She could feel it coming. The sharpness of her breath, the way her lip trembled under the weight of what she wanted to do.
The fluorescent light hummed overhead, and the walls felt too close, as if they meant to press her in. She looked at them—low laughs, the scrape of heels on tile. Shadows swept across the stalls, narrowing in on her.
They surrounded her: girls with cigarettes dangling from their lips, eyes bright with cruelty. Their words stung—whispers of psycho, freak, worse. Each insult landed in her chest like a stone.
Her lips were dry, chapped beneath the heavy lipstick, so bright it almost hurt to see. She imagined, for a moment, what it would look like—if that lipstick were smeared with blood. Her blood or theirs, it didn’t matter. The thought of wiping it off with their mocking laughter, of seeing them eat their own arrogance, was a sickening sort of satisfaction.
The laughter, the cigarette smoke curling around their words—it all burned her. She didn’t need to move, didn’t need to react. But the fantasy? The fantasy was enough. They'd never know the rage coiled inside her like a snake, waiting for the right moment to strike.
But that moment never came. And she realized, standing there, that maybe it never would. She was a prisoner of her own calm.
She paused, breath steadying, and Suho’s voice cut through the noise in her head. “If they corner you, don’t let them control the space. Use anything around you. Make them intimidate you.” Not her teacher’s drills—Suho’s words, like a lifeline.
She straightened her spine. Every inch of her stood tall: shoulders back, chin up, eyes locked on the ring leader. The others fell silent, startled by the sudden shift in the air. She moved forward, step by deliberate step, until she was toe-to-toe with the girl who’d cornered her.
Her voice was low, rough from disuse—but clear.
" You done spouting bullshit? "
The hallway seemed to hold its breath. The girl’s smirk faltered as a tremor of hesitation rippled through the circle. And for the first time that day, She felt something bloom behind her ribs—not fear, but a fierce, electric calm. The world had tilted back into place. She owned this moment. And they knew it.
The girl scoffed, a bitter sound curling from her lips like smoke. Her voice trembled, mechanical and unsure, stuttering as if caught between fury and fear. “What did you say?” she asked, trying to hold the edges of control, to wear confidence like armor—though it barely clung to her.
“You just keep talking,” she spat. “Saying things you don’t even understand. You’ve got the ego of a man compensating for something small—so small. Always acting like you're above everyone, but you’re nothing more than a coward in a mask.”
Her anger was wildfire now, unchecked and consuming. She moved fast—too fast—reaching out to strike, to make the moment hers again. But the other girl was faster. Calm. Cold. She caught her wrist mid-air, twisted it hard.
There was a snap—sharp, sickening.
A breath caught in the girl’s throat.
She screamed in pain then came the kick, swift and brutal, sending her stumbling backward, wounded pride trailing behind her like a torn ribbon. She hurled in pain clutching her hand as she lay on the ground.
And then—silence.
She had the space she needed. A clear path to run, to disappear, to let this be over.
But she didn’t move.
Not yet, she isn't done.
They circled her like wolves, four against one, grinning with the kind of confidence that came in packs. Cheap perfume, chewing gum, and bad intentions hung thick in the air.
The first came charging, wild and loud. She sidestepped, smooth as water, and swept a leg out low. The girl hit the ground with a thud, her pride landing harder than her body. As another was baffled but lunged—fists swinging, rage without form. She caught her wrist mid-swing, twisted, and sent an elbow into her ribs. The sound that followed was breathless, raw.
The third tried to out-think her. She went low, hands reaching for ankles, but didn’t see the spin. A heel cracked across her jaw with the grace of violence learned in silence. She folded, crumpled, still.
The last girl hesitated.
She could’ve run. Could’ve walked away with just a bruise to her ego.
“Don’t,” she warned, softly. Like mercy.
But pride struck first, than being humble.
She attacked—and in seconds, she was face-down, her wrist bent behind her back, the ground cold and unforgiving. Her face met with the cold disgusting floor where many student stepped in.
She exhaled.
She looked at them with no compassion, she knelt and plucked a crumpled cigarette pack from one of their jackets. Held it up between two fingers like something dead.
“Pick them up,” she said.
No one answered, nor moved.
She exhaled with a look of annoyance.
She stood over them, still as a statue, the echo of violence humming in her bones. Around her, the bathroom was silent save for their ragged breathing—tile cold beneath scraped palms, smoke clinging to the walls like ghosts.
“PICKED THEM UP!” she shouted, voice cracking through the air like a whip.
It boomed off the tiled walls, reverberating through the stillness. The room swallowed the sound, but it stayed there, vibrating in the bones of those crouched on the floor.
They moved slowly, heads bowed like scolded children, fingers fumbling for the torn paper and crushed filters. One by one, they gathered the pieces.
She didn’t blink. Didn’t move.
"Eat it." she commanded at them, as the other stare at her in fear. Others obeyed too quickly afraid to have more blooming bruises on their faces.
But the one who had confronted her—the first to strike, the first to fall—didn’t look away.
She sat against the tiled wall, cradling her broken wrist with the other hand, eyes burning with fury. It wasn’t fear in her face—it was defiance. Pride refusing to kneel, even in defeat.
Blood at the corner of her lip. Breathing sharp. Hate alive in her throat.
She walked toward her—not rushed, not cruel, just deliberate. Controlled. Her knees bent with a soft thud against the tile as she knelt before the girl. A single cigarette still burned on the floor, its ember a fading eye. She picked it up between her fingers, unflinching as the heat kissed her skin.
“Still holding onto that pride?” she asked, almost gently.
She caught her face in one hand, fingers gripping her cheeks, steady and strong. Thumb pried her mouth open.
“No more talking.” She murmured at her, and smiled at her. Sickingly.
She watched her chew it—eyes wet, teeth grinding through heat and paper and humiliation. The taste of defiance turned to ash on her tongue.
She held her gaze the whole time at her. Chewing at her own pride.
Then she let go.
Her fingers slipped from the girl's face like a dying breeze. And then, without fury—only finality—she slapped her. A clean, echoing sound that cracked through the heavy stillness like a gunshot in a chapel. No rage in it. Just closure. She rose to her feet, slow and composed, the chaos behind her shrinking as if it had never touched her.
At the door, she paused.
The air in the bathroom was thick—smoke curling like ghosts above the flickering light, blood and ash staining silence. The girls were curled inward, pain folding their bodies like paper. Eyes wide, throats dry. Beaten, but still watching.
She turned to face them one last time.
“Tell a teacher,” she said, voice low but thunderous, coiled with quiet venom. “And it won’t just be my fists or my feet kneeling to your faces.” Her eyes swept over them—each one trembling, pride shattered and stinging beneath the skin.
“I’ll make sure you can’t even look in the mirror without choking on what you see.”
A breath.
“I will kill you.”
No screams. No theatrics. Just that promise—quiet and unshakeable.
Then she stepped through the doorway and disappeared. The door slammed behind her with the force of a verdict. The lock clicked shut, sealing the room like a tomb.
She walked slowly, each step measured, as though the weight of her own actions had yet to fully settle. Her heartbeat still echoed in her chest, a steady drum beneath the skin. The rush, that surge of power, still coursed through her veins like fire, bright and consuming.
But she remained composed.
Her breath, though quick, was steady, like the calm after a storm. The chaos of the bathroom—those faces crumpled in pain, the smell of smoke and defeat—was already fading into the periphery of her mind.
Her fingers, still tingling from the force of the slap, brushed against the cold metal of the doorframe as she passed. Her body knew what it had done, but her mind? Her mind was already someplace else, already turning over the pieces like a puzzle that had just been solved.
She didn't regret it. Not in that moment.
She didn’t need to look back.
She just have to keep moving forward.
Its been a year.
After endless of orders, knocking on doors, she fell asleep face-down on a half-finished worksheet, the highlighter uncapped and bleeding neon yellow into the page.
When she slept, she was impossible to wake—like the world could end outside her window and she’d sleep through the fire. It had become her escape, her only silence. But not tonight.
Her phone rang loud and sharp, slicing through the quiet like panic often does. She stirred, groggy and annoyed, until her eyes caught the caller ID: Hospital.
She blinked.
Hospital
Her heart didn’t stop—it collapsed.
She answered without thinking, her voice breathless, the fear already creeping up her spine. “Hello?”
The voice on the other end was formal, wrapped in professional indifference. “Hello. Is this Dokja-ssi’s phone?”
Her breath hitched. Something about the tone felt wrong. Off. Too careful. “Yes—yes, this is her. I’m Dokja. Why? What’s going on?” she asked, already standing, legs shaky, the panic flooding her veins.
“There’s been a complication,” the voice replied, each word like a crack in her chest. "Patient Anh Suho, is in a critical condition, Unfortunately, Sieun-ssi responded but he didn't came. Are you able to come?" The nurse voice replied.
For a second, time slowed. Then it shattered.
She didn’t respond. The call had ended. Or maybe she had ended it. She couldn’t remember. Her limbs moved on instinct. She didn’t change clothes. She didn’t think. She just ran.
She ran like she did the night everything fell apart.
She ran like apologies could catch up to prayers.
She ran like her heart would stop before she made it.
She ran even if her tears wouldn't stop streaming until her eyes became blurry at the sight.
She called and called Suho’s grandmother, but the line rang endlessly. The silence on the other end pressed against her ears like grief.
When she burst through the hospital entrance, breathless and wild-eyed, she was met with chaos—blurred voices, sharp lights, the dull smell of antiseptic, and somewhere behind it all, fear.
A nurse met her halfway, calm hands reaching to steady her. "Dokja-ssi? "she asked gently, guiding her to a seat. She nodded, unable to speak.
Then everything came too fast— loud shouts, jarring footsteps.
Too real.
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. She just stood there, rooted to the floor as the world blurred into chaos.
Through the small square of glass, her eyes locked onto the scene like it might disappear if she looked away. Suho’s body, too still on the stretcher, wires snaking across his chest. The defibrillator pads were already in place. The sound of machines echoed even through the door, shrill and unrelenting.
She saw the moment his heart flatlined.
The jagged spike of the monitor became a flat line.
"He's in cardiac arrest!"
Doctors shouted orders she couldn’t understand, but her body translated their panic anyway. Hands moved fast, efficient and desperate, as if time could be bribed to give them more.
His chest lifted—once, twice—under compressions, and she could barely hear the nurse behind her asking her to sit down.
But she didn’t. She couldn’t.
All she could do was stare at the blinking lights, watching as they flickered like dying stars in a collapsing sky. He had always burned so bright. And now—Now he was fighting to stay lit.
Tears clung to her lashes, but she didn’t cry. Not yet. Not when he was still in there. Not when he might still wake up.
She placed a hand against the glass.
“Suho,” she whispered like it was a promise. Like her voice could reach him where machines couldn’t.
She didn’t know how long she stood there. Could’ve been minutes. Could’ve been forever. Time twisted itself into knots.
All she knew was that she had never felt so helpless.
Inside, the doctor called for another round. The paddles pressed to his chest.
Clear.
His body jolted.
She flinched.
Her knees gave out before she even realized she was falling. The cold linoleum kissed her skin, and her fingers clawed at the base of the emergency room door—desperate, aching, as if she could tear through it and pull him back with her own bare hands.
“Suho,” she choked out, once, then again—until his name was no longer a name, but a prayer dragged through broken sobs.
Her body folded in on itself. Shoulders shaking, forehead pressed against the wood like it could listen. Like maybe if she stayed close enough, he’d hear her crying and come back just to scold her for it.
She wailed quietly at first, then louder, all the grief she had buried beneath discipline and duty unspooling in the rawest of ways. She gripped the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth, nails digging in until her knuckles turned white.
Her voice cracked, mouth trembling as she whispered, “Please… please don’t go.”
No one answered.
Only the muffled chaos of the emergency room beyond the door. The soft buzz of machines still fighting to keep him here. The frantic shuffle of shoes and fabric and sterile urgency.
She quickly kneeled, blood in her throat and prayers in her lungs. Asking the universe, begging God, “If you're here, save him.”
Not long after, the noise settled. The beeping of machines, the shouting of doctors, the chaos in the emergency room all blurred into a dull hum as Suho’s heart slowly found its rhythm again.
She sat there, knees still trembling beneath her, as a nurse gently approached her. She had no words to offer, no comfort to give, but the way she placed a steady hand on her shoulder said enough. It was an anchor in a sea of uncertainty.
“Suho’s stable now,” the nurse said softly, but her voice was still kind, despite the exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin. “He’s in critical care, but the immediate danger has passed.”
“His vitals are steady. We’ll monitor him, of course.” The nurse’s tone was reassuring, but she couldn’t shake the cold dread that clung to her, the fear that, at any moment, everything could tip back into the unknown.
The doctor stepped in next, his presence steady but brisk, offering the facts as they were. “His heart stopped for a few moments, but we were able to stabilize him,” he said, glancing at the monitor and then at her. “We’ll continue monitoring him closely for the next few hours. He’s strong. He’ll pull through. But it’s too early to say much more.”
She nodded, the weight of his words settling into her bones. But her mind couldn’t quite rest on the relief; it was tangled in the knots of everything she had felt before this moment, the panic, the helplessness, the feeling of losing him before she even had the chance to understand what he truly meant to her.
She managed to speak, though her voice felt foreign. “Can I see him?”
The nurse and doctor exchanged glances. The doctor nodded. “Just for a moment. He’s sedated, but we’ll allow a brief visit.”
As they led her to Suho’s room, She felt her legs heavy, like she was walking through water. When she reached the threshold of his room, she stopped, standing there in the doorway for a moment, watching him. The sight of him—his face pale but familiar, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the monitors—was almost too much to bear.
But she stepped inside. Slowly. Quietly. As if afraid that if she moved too fast, she would wake from this nightmare too soon.
There, in the quiet hum of the hospital room, she sat by his bed, her hand carefully brushing through his hair.
She didn’t speak.
She didn’t need to.
All she could do was stay. And wait.
"You scared the shit out of me, you bastard." Her voice cracked, soft but heavy with the weight of everything she had felt in the past few hours.
A bitter chuckle escaped her lips, her fingers trembling as they lingered on his hand, still warm, still steady. The tears she had held back now fell freely, pooling on the edges of her lashes before they slipped down her cheeks.
"I thought... I thought I was going to lose you," she whispered, the words raw and honest, the fear she hadn’t known how to voice finally spilling from her. "I didn't know what I'd do without you."
"You always make me worry, don’t you?" she said, her voice quieter now, almost a fond reproach, as if she was talking to herself more than to him.
The sterile room felt colder now, quieter, but her presence by his side warmed the space. She could almost pretend that things were normal, that this moment was just one of those fleeting, quiet moments they used to have—when everything felt right, when there was nothing but them, no chaos, no questions. Just the quiet hum of being together.
"If you scared me like that again, i will kill you." she murmured, her hand brushing over the cool fabric of his hospital gown. "Please, wake up."
But silence was the loud answer.
Soon, she would hear his voice.
Again.
Soon she left the room, as the doctor checked his vitals.
She stepped away from the cold, sterile walls of the waiting room, seeking solace in a quiet corner where she could break without being seen. Her breath caught in her throat as her body trembled, each sob a sharp, painful release of everything she had held back.
She pressed her hand against her mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but it was useless. The grief, the fear, the desperate prayer to some higher power—she couldn’t contain it any longer.
"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Please, don’t take him too."
She was lost in her own panic, until her gaze lifted, and through blurred eyes, she saw them.
Three figures in the distance, standing near the entrance of the waiting area.
Their presence felt like a strange disruption, their calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm inside her. She quickly wiped her tears away, forcing herself to steady her breathing, her chest still tight, aching from the earlier rush of emotion.
She couldn’t show them the cracks. Not now. Not here.
Her eyes darted to the sound of heels clicking against the floor, the sound sharp and confident as it drew closer. Without even looking, she knew.
She recognized the familiar cadence, the polished, poised steps of someone who had a presence that filled the room. And when she heard the words, soft yet piercing, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing over.
“Sieun,” his mother’s voice echoed, a quiet, clipped tone that made her blood run cold.
Her heart stopped for a moment, suspended in time. She didn’t move. She didn’t dare.
She had to stay still. To breathe. To keep herself from trembling at the sight of his mother, at the thought of Sieun.
As the woman turned, disappearing into the hallway, the rest of them—those familiar figures from long ago—remained.
She heard those words again, echoing in her chest like a cracked bell, "Don't worry. He's stable now."
But “stable” felt hollow—an empty promise carved from glass. It pressed against her ribs until she could hardly breathe. Stable meant he had already teetered on the edge.
Stable meant the world had nearly slipped him away once, and could do so again.
In that moment, the corridor’s light blurred into silver dust, and every step she took felt haunted by the question: What had broken him, and could she piece him back together?
Her legs moved before her mind could catch up, standing up as the need to know, to understand, burned through her chest. She walked toward them, each step hesitant but determined, her feet carrying her forward as if they knew the path she needed to take.
When she reached them, her voice was steady, but the question she asked felt like it came from someone else, someone too broken to stop herself.
“What happened to Sieun?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, though she hoped it didn’t sound as fragile as it felt.
Her eyes caught theirs, scanning each face, searching for a truth that had eluded her. And for a split second, in that fleeting moment, she realized how deeply she had missed them, how much she had needed to see them. But all she could focus on was Sieun. Where was he? Was he okay?
They met her gaze, each face shifting with something—pity? Worry? It was hard to tell, but she needed to know. She had to know.
The first met her gaze for an instant—his head shaved close, eyes hard—before he looked away. The second hunched forward, hood drawn tight, fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against his knee. The third leaned back, arms crossed, but his glance flickered to her like a startled bird.
“Who are you?” the one wearing a blazer asked, voice cautious.
Her throat constricted. “I—” She forced the words out. “I’m just asking if he’s okay.”
“Why do you care?” the first boy challenged, sharp eyes narrowing.
“I was his friend,” she whispered, voice thin as spun glass. “Please… just tell me.” They exchanged hesitant looks, the silence stretching between them like a wound.
“We weren’t there,” the boy with folded arms finally said, each word weighed by uncertainty. “Someone brought him in. He… hasn’t woken up yet.” She bowed her head, letting the news settle like snow in her chest.
The boy with a fur jacket on as his voice softened, almost a murmur: “You close to him, then?” She blinked at him, She didn’t know how to answer him. Are you close to him? — the question wasn’t cruel, just curious. Simple. But it rattled something. She would've said we are, once. It would’ve been easy. Natural.
But they weren’t.
Not anymore.
So the silence stretched for a second too long, and she could feel it waiting — the question, the boys, even the fluorescent lights buzzing above. “I was,” she said. Quiet. Honest. Maybe too honest. She didn’t know what else to say. Nothing she could say would explain it anyway.
The words hung in the air behind her as she walked, not really expecting them to understand.
The three boys watched her go, but none of them tried to stop her. It wasn’t like they could.
As she neared the hallway where Sieun’s mother had disappeared, the heels clicking sharply on the tile floor were unmistakable. The woman, tall and dressed in black, walked with a certain kind of authority, but there was something fragile about the way she moved — like even the weight of her own footsteps might be too much for her.
She didn't hesitate. Her legs carried her forward, and before she could second-guess herself, she was standing at the door where his mother had entered.
By the time she reached the door — the same one his mother had disappeared through — her hand was already on the frame, fingers trembling.
She leaned in.
The glass was small, but clear enough to steal her breath.
There he was.
Sieun. Still. Pale. Wires crawling across his skin like questions with no answers. Machines blinking quietly beside him, a soundless rhythm of worry. Her stomach turned. Something inside her dropped.
Her breathe hitched.
Him too?
And she didn't even know.
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes before she could blink them back, stinging sharp and sudden. Not just because of the sight. But because it felt like some invisible thread had snapped — and she hadn't even realized it was still there until now.
It hit her like a quiet betrayal.
She used to pride herself on noticing things—on knowing when people were hurting even if they didn’t say it out loud. But this?
She hadn’t known a damn thing.
She didn't know what happened.
There was no warning. No signs. Just a body behind glass. A boy who once walked beside her now laid out like a question without an answer.
Her chest ached. Not sharp, just hollow.
She wondered if he tried to reach out. If he hesitated before deleting her number. If he thought about her at all.
Would it have changed anything?
Would she have come running sooner, if she knew?
She didn’t even know what floor he was on until she heard his name from someone else's mouth. And now here she was, heart pressed against glass, breathing in grief like it was her fault she didn’t notice him slipping.
She didn’t notice the door open. Not until a voice sliced through the haze, sharp and clean like a blade pressed too close to skin. “What is it?” The woman’s tone was brisk—businesslike, wrapped in steel—but not cruel. Not yet.
And for a moment, she couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak. She stood there, breath caught halfway, spine tense like she’d been caught somewhere she shouldn’t be.
What was she supposed to say? That she was standing outside the room of a boy she hadn’t seen in months, one who used to walk beside her like a shadow, now lying still behind glass like a stranger? That she didn’t know why she was here, only that her feet wouldn’t let her go anywhere else?
But none of that would sound right. None of that would explain the tears she hadn’t wiped away, the guilt tightening her chest, the ache of realizing she was too late.
“…What happened to Sieun?” She asked the question again, but it felt heavier this time. More desperate.
The woman paused.
Sieun’s mother glanced at her, with a mask of recognition.
“You...” Sieun’s mother said softly, her voice filled with the weight of years of distance. “You’re the girl who visited us... a year ago?”
She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.
“I was,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.
The woman paused, studying her carefully. There was something in her gaze—concern, perhaps, or understanding—something that made her feel exposed in a way she hadn’t expected.
Sieun’s mother’s eyes softened for just a moment, her expression unreadable, but there was a kindness in the way she spoke next.
But at her first question, her jaw tensed — a small, silent betrayal of everything she refused to let slip. There was a flicker in her eyes, something restrained and quiet, like a dam holding back too much water. She gave a slow shake of her head — not dismissive, not angry — just tired. The kind of tired that lived in the bones, not the muscles. The kind that grief makes permanent.
For a moment, the hallway felt too still. The soft mechanical murmurs behind the walls seemed distant, unimportant. Time hung suspended in fluorescent light and stale air.
Then, finally, Sieun’s mother exhaled — low, controlled, as if she could force herself to stay composed with nothing but breath.
“He’s in a bad state,” she said, and the words landed with the weight of something half-buried. “Unconscious when they brought him in. He got hit by a bus, thankfully it wasn't that critical. But the doctors are trying. They’re doing what they can.”
The ache hit without warning — a sharp, invisible thing that cracked down her spine like lightning. She didn’t know when she started shaking. Only that it hurt to stand still, and it hurt more to listen.
She wanted to ask more. A thousand questions pressed behind her teeth, begging for air. But none of them mattered. Not right now.
“Do you... want to see him?” Sieun’s mother asked, her voice softer now, like she understood what it meant to be left behind by someone still breathing.
“Yes.” Her voice came out too fast, too fragile. “Please. I— I need to.” The older woman gave a quiet nod and turned, her steps slow and heavy. And the girl followed, unsure if her knees were steady enough to carry her through the weight of the moment.
Behind every step was a memory. Behind every breath was something she wished she’d said.
But ahead… ahead was the hope of seeing him again — and maybe, just maybe, a chance to fix what time and silence had fractured.
“Are... are you a friend of Sieun’s?” Sieun’s mother asked, her voice faltering slightly. “I always believed something must have happened... between the two of you.”
The words hit her like a punch to the gut, a sharp reminder of the distance she had put between them, a distance that had been as much her doing as anyone else’s.
“I used to be his friend,” she replied, her voice faltering, unsure of what else to say. Sieun’s mother’s eyes softened for just a moment, her expression unreadable, but there was a kindness in the way she spoke next.
She steps slowly toward Sieun's room, her heart racing in her chest, and each step feels heavier than the last. The guilt still lingers, but she pushes it aside, forcing herself to focus on the present. She can’t afford to think about the past anymore. Not now.
The reality of what’s happening hits her—she’s finally facing Sieun after all this time, after everything that’s happened. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say, or if she’ll even be able to say anything at all.
But she knows one thing for certain: she has to be there for him, even if it’s just in silence.
The sterile smell of the hospital room fills her senses. The sound of beeping machines and the soft rustle of sheets are the only noises that break the stillness of the room. She looks at him, lying unconscious in the hospital bed. His face is peaceful, but his body is marked with signs of his struggle.
It’s hard to look at him—he looks so fragile, so far from the boy she used to know. She’s reminded of all the things left unsaid, of the friendship that was lost, and the connection that never truly faded, even when she thought it had.
His mother gave a small nod, saying nothing, only shifting slightly to offer the empty seat beside her.
She sat down, the chair cold beneath her, the air colder still.
Silence erupted in the room—not hollow, but thick. The kind that fills your lungs until it’s hard to breathe. Machines hummed gently, steady and indifferent. But everything else felt still, like the world had paused just outside these walls.
She didn’t look at him right away. She couldn’t. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers laced tightly together, as if they were the only thing keeping her grounded.
She heard sieun's mother sighed softly, a mix of relief and lingering worry in her voice. “The doctor says it wasn’t critical, but his nervous system was affected. He’s been having trouble...” Her voice falters a bit.
“...trouble sleeping.” Her voice barely above a whisper, heart racing at the realization. As she finished Sieun's mother sentence. Her eyes widen in surprise, as if a flash of recognition crosses her mind. “Did Sieun tell you this?”
She shakes her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips, though it’s drowned in the ache of regret. “No, I haven’t talked to him... not since he switched schools.” She glanced at her lap, fiddling at the edge of her t-shirt, afraid to look at her.
A pause, her gaze softening, yet heavy with understanding. Her voice becomes quiet but firm, almost as if she’s been waiting to say this. “The moment I saw you standing at our door... I knew you had a connection with him. I don’t know what happened between you two, but I could tell you meant a lot to him.”
She is struck by her words, her heart sinking in guilt. She bows her head into her lap, the tears threatening to spill over. She couldn’t hold it back anymore, not with all the emotions swirling inside her, not after everything she wished she’d done differently.
Her voice lowers with empathy, a soft sadness in her words, as she takes a cautious step closer. “Sieun’s always been reserved... He’s never been good at opening up, especially when it matters the most. That’s how he is... always locking everything inside.” She paused as she glanced at the girl's appearance.
She trembled, shoulders tight, voice barely holding beneath the weight that had sat on her chest for far too long.
“I... I let my pride get in the way,” she whispered, each word splintering against the silence. “I didn’t talk to him when I had the chance... I should’ve, but I didn’t. I thought he’d be fine—like he always is. I told myself he’d figure it out. But now—” her breath hitched, “now he’s in here, like this. And I wasn’t there. I wasn’t even close.”
Her hands lifted, covering her face as the tears finally broke through, warm and merciless.
She hated herself for waiting. For hesitating. For thinking there would always be more time.
The silence they once shared now felt like punishment. A distance she could’ve closed, but didn’t. And now the air between them was filled with wires and machines and too many what-ifs.
If only she’d said something. If only she hadn’t let fear speak louder than her heart.
Now, it might be too late to say any of it at all.
Her voice was calm—steady in a way that only someone who had learned how to carry pain without letting it break them could manage. It reached her like a soft touch, like the kind of comfort that doesn’t need to be loud to be heard.
“It’s not your fault,” she said, not accusing, not dismissive—just honest. A breath left her lips, weary but full of knowing. “You can’t predict everything. Especially with someone like Sieun.”
She paused, as if weighing her next words with care.
“Sometimes... people need to fall a little. Walk into the dark by themselves before they can find their way back. That’s not on you. You can’t carry that alone.”
The words lingered in the quiet, gentle but undeniable. A truth that she hadn’t let herself believe. She had been so sure it was her failure, her silence, her pride that led to this—but maybe... it wasn’t all hers to hold.
Then, softer now, almost like an offering:
“If you were once his friend... maybe you still are. Maybe that hasn’t changed. It’s not too late. He’s been through more than we know, but maybe—just maybe—seeing you now will remind him... that he’s not alone. That someone still cares.”
And in that moment, the she felt something shift—not the ache, not the guilt, but the helplessness. It didn’t fade completely. But it loosened just enough to let hope slip in.
She feels a sudden rush of uncertainty—an ache that rises to her throat and threatens to pull her under. Should she stay? Should she leave? What right did she have to be here, after everything?
Her pride claws at her, whispering that it’s too late. That she should walk away quietly, like she always did. But something deeper—something older and softer—fights back. The part of her that still remembers his tired eyes, his rare half-smiles, the way he tried even when no one else saw it.
Regret crashes against her chest like a wave, but it’s no longer paralyzing. It’s a reminder. Of time wasted. Of words left unsaid. Of the cost of silence.
She glances at Sieun’s mother, who doesn’t speak—just waits with that patient, knowing gaze. Her breath stutters, but her feet don’t move. Something has shifted. The guilt is still there, heavy and sharp, but now it’s tethered to something else—resolve.
She can’t go back. She can’t undo the past.
But maybe... she can be here now.
Maybe this is the moment that matters.
For a moment, the room is silent again. The machines continue to beep steadily, and the she wonders if Sieun can hear her. Wondering if maybe, deep down, he knows that she’s here, that she’s trying. Her eyes start to blur with tears, but she blinks them away.
She stands by his bed, her hands shaking slightly as she places them on the edge of the bed, as she closed her eyes and whispered.
"I'm sorry, Sieun-ah"
The next day felt like a blur.
She quietly steps into the sterile hospital room where Suho still lies, unmoving. She finds solace in the mundane, almost as if speaking about ordinary things could bridge the chasm of everything that had happened recently.
She talks to him, her words flowing easily, the way they used to when everything was simple. She tells him about her day—how the schoolwork felt heavier than usual, how his grandmother seemed well despite the worries she had about him. And she mentions Sieun too, his mother, how strange it felt to walk that line between regret and the need to reconnect.
“I saw his mom yesterday,” she continues, her voice softer now. “She said he’s not critical... but his nervous system’s been hit harder than I expected. He’s having trouble... sleeping. I didn’t know, Suho... I thought I was the one to blame for everything.”
She doesn’t expect an answer, but the words feel like they needed to be said.
She pauses, blinking away a few tears, but laughs softly to herself as she recalls the comforting words of Sieun’s mother. “She said I wasn’t the cause of it... that people sometimes have to go through things alone before they come back. I guess... I didn’t think it would be like this.”
The quiet hum of the machines fills the silence as she sighs, her shoulders slumping as though the weight of it all is settling in. She leans back, taking a long breath, her exhaustion creeping in after days of emotional strain.
Her eyes flutter closed, and before she knows it, the chair becomes a quiet refuge, the steady beeping from Suho’s side becoming the lullaby she never thought she’d need.
Her hand, instinctively, rests on Suho’s, and in the quiet of the night, she falls asleep. It’s not the restful sleep of peace, but the kind that brings temporary relief—a brief escape from the chaos of everything around her.
And even if it’s just for a moment, she finds some comfort in the familiarity of the space, the stillness, and the softness of hope that maybe, just maybe, things will begin to heal.
She stirred awake slowly, but didn’t move. The heaviness in her limbs wasn’t from sleep—it was from everything else. Her head remained rested against the hospital bed, her hand still loosely curled near Suho’s.
The room was dim, still caught between the fading night and the gentle glow of morning.
The door creaked open quietly. She heard it but didn’t open her eyes. Part of her wanted to turn, to see—but she stayed still. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was both.
Then, his voice.
“Suho… I’m sorry I’m late.”
Her breath caught in her throat. That voice, distant yet achingly familiar, dragged her right back to every moment she spent waiting—for answers, for closure, for him.
She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, her fingers twitching slightly.
And then, the second wound.
“I’m sorry, Dokja-ah.”
It was said softer, like a ghost brushing past her.
She heard the shuffling of shoes, the sound of someone about to leave. Her pride could’ve let him walk. Her anger, too. But grief, time, and the ache of everything unspoken pushed her forward.
She sat up slowly, eyes still fixed ahead, and her voice—tired but sharp—cut through the sterile room, as the machine beeping echoed.
“Took you a year to say that?”
The footsteps paused. Silence stretched—long enough for her heart to pound in her ears.
He froze.
The sound of her voice—raspy, fragile, but laced with something unmistakably raw—stopped him in his tracks. He faced her, still seating on the chair faced forward. She didn’t look at him.
Not yet.
Her eyes stayed on Suho, like she was still guarding something, or maybe just trying to keep herself from unraveling.
A long silence passed before she finally turned her head, just slightly. Enough to see the outline of him in the soft light.
Her gaze didn’t soften, but it didn’t harden either. It just held.
“I waited,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Not for an apology. Just… something. Anything.”
Her hand brushed lightly against Suho’s, grounding her. She didn’t want to cry. Not again. Not in front of him.
“But you disappeared,” she continued. “Like none of it mattered. Like we didn’t matter.” Her voice wavered, but her words stayed steady. “You don’t get to walk in and say sorry like that’s enough.”
She wasn’t yelling.
She didn’t need to.
Her silence hurts the both of them.
She looked at him then, fully—and for a moment, he looked like the boy she used to know. And someone else entirely.
Still, her next words weren’t bitter. Just… tired.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Sieun.”
And beneath it all, she meant it.
Do you even know what you left behind?
He stood there, caught in the doorway like someone who didn’t belong in the scene he'd wandered into. His hands twitched at his sides, empty. Always empty when it came to her. And yet, somehow, this felt heavier than any fight he’d ever taken.
Her words didn’t cut—they lingered.
Hung in the space between them like mist over a lake he was too afraid to step into.
He wanted to speak.
He wanted to explain.
What could he say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse?
So he just looked at her.
The way her shoulders curved inward now. The way her voice cracked like a fault line trying to stay closed. The way she kept glancing at Suho—as if he were the bridge between them. As if he was the only one allowed to still believe in them both.
He swallowed the guilt, thick and sharp. “I didn’t know how to come back,” he said, barely above a whisper. “And when I finally did… I wasn’t sure I deserved to.”
She didn’t respond—not right away.
But her looked says it all, "You didn't even try?"
So he took a step closer.
“I didn’t stop caring,” he murmured. “I just… didn’t know how to carry it without breaking.”
"You think I didn’t notice, but I did," she said, her voice low, not shaking, not angry—just tired. The kind of tired that sits deep in your bones, where no sleep can reach.
She let out a breath, almost a laugh, but it was hollow.
"I just didn’t want to believe it. So I made excuses. I told myself you were busy, or overwhelmed, or just... thinking things through. I waited. I gave you space. And you took it—so much space there was nothing left of you. No message. No call. Not even a goodbye. Just... absence. You left, and I stayed behind trying to stitch something back together that I didn’t even break." Her hands were still clenched at her sides, but her shoulders had slumped slightly, the weight of it all pulling her down again.
"Do you know what that feels like?" she asked, not looking at him now. "To lose everyone, one by one, and then have you—you—just disappear like you were never part of any of it? Suho ended up in a hospital bed. Beomseok vanished like smoke. Yeong-i stopped answering. And then there was just me. Alone. And you were supposed to be the one who stayed." She turned her head toward him, finally meeting his eyes again.
"I waited for you. I waited so long, and it got quiet. So quiet that it hurt. I’d stare at my phone for hours. I'd start typing something to you and delete it before I sent it. I’d run out of reasons to pretend like it was okay, like you were coming back. But I still hoped. Isn’t that sad? I still hoped." Her voice wavered now, just a little. But she didn’t let it fall apart.
"I kept asking myself, what did I do wrong? Was it something I said? Something I didn’t say? Should I have asked more questions, held on tighter, yelled, cried, anything? I was folding myself into pieces trying to find the version of me you wouldn’t walk away from." Her breath caught, but she blinked it back.
She didn’t cry.
She didn't want to anymore.
"And now you're here, and you look sorry, but sorry isn’t a time machine. Sorry doesn’t put things back where they were. Sorry doesn’t tell me why you thought I couldn’t handle the truth when I was already surviving the wreckage you left behind." She took a step back.
"You left. You made that choice. And I lived with the silence. Don’t come back now and act like you were the one hurting."
She stood now, walking past the bed until she was closer to him—arms still at her side, fists clenched.
She shook her head, a bitter laugh slipping past her lips before she could stop it. It sounded smaller than she expected. Tired, too.
“I waited,” she said, the words sitting heavy in her throat. “Every day, I waited for you to come back. And when you didn’t… I started to hate you. But worse than that—I hated myself.”
Her voice thinned, the way it does when something old and buried rises too fast, too sharp. Like the weight of it had finally lodged in her chest and was pressing, hard.
“Because I kept thinking—if I’d just opened my mouth. If I hadn’t let my pride win. If I’d said anything instead of staying silent... maybe we wouldn’t be here. Standing like strangers, pretending we used to be something more.”
Sieun looked pale, like the guilt in his chest had found its way to his face. He looked like he wanted to reach for her, but didn’t. Couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he said. Softer now. Like he meant it, but didn’t believe it was enough.
She looked at him, hollow-eyed.
“I don’t need your sorry,” she said. “I needed you.”
The silence that followed didn’t feel empty. It felt deafening—like the aftermath of a scream. Like the room itself was holding its breath.
She turned away and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket, pretending the motion was casual. It wasn’t.
“If you’re going to leave again,” she said quietly, “just go now.”
“I’m not—” he stated.
“Don’t promise me things,” she snapped, too fast. “You’re not good at keeping them.”
That stopped him. His gaze dropped for a second, shame flickering across his face. But when he looked up again, something had changed. His eyes weren’t defensive or desperate. Just steady. Heavy with everything he hadn’t said until now.
“I know,” he said. “I know you did. You waited.”
He stepped away from the door, not closer to her—but toward the weight between them. Like he was choosing, finally, not to run.
“You think I didn’t want to come back?” he said, his voice quiet. “I did. Every day I told myself—just one message. Just one call. But then I’d remember the way you looked at me the last time. Like I’d already broken something important.”
She opened her mouth—maybe to argue, maybe to agree—but he kept going.
“I couldn’t face Suho. Or you. Or who I used to be. Because after everything fell apart, I thought it was my fault. I thought I ruined everything. And maybe I did.”
There was no anger in his voice. Just weariness.
“I told myself staying away was cleaner. That I wouldn’t hurt you more by showing up broken. But the truth is... I was just scared. Scared of being the one who couldn’t fix what he shattered.”
She didn’t speak. She just stared, hands clenched at her sides, like letting them relax might make all of this too real.
“I thought forgetting would be easier if I stayed gone. But I didn’t forget,” he said. “I just kept losing parts of myself, until there was nothing left that felt like enough.”
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. His words came steady, quiet—but sharp enough to cut.
“I couldn’t face it. I told myself I was protecting you, giving you space, whatever lie made it easier to breathe. But the truth is—I was a coward. Not the dramatic kind, not the ones who run screaming. The quiet kind. The kind that slips out the back door and convinces themselves it’s mercy.”
He looked at her then, really looked—like maybe it had taken this long to let himself.
“I thought if I stayed away long enough, you’d stop needing me. That you’d forget whatever version of me you used to count on. That you’d move on, and I could pretend I didn’t break anything.”
She didn’t say a word. Her jaw was tight. Her eyes were red. But she listened.
“I saw Suho in that bed,” he went on, softer now. “I saw you next to him. And I realized how much I missed. How much I left you to carry. Alone. You always carried everything so quietly—I think I convinced myself you’d be okay without me. But you weren’t. And I wasn’t okay without you either.”
He took a step forward, not asking permission. Just letting her see that maybe—for once—he wasn’t hiding behind silence.
“I’m not going to make promises. I don’t think I have the right to anymore. But I will say this: I never stopped thinking about you. And I was wrong. You didn’t deserve that kind of silence. You didn’t deserve to feel like you were the one left behind.”
“I’m not here to undo it,” he said, voice low, steady. “I know I can’t. I know showing up now doesn’t erase anything.”
His gaze lingered on her—the shine in her eyes that wasn’t light, but tears; the shadows beneath them carved by sleepless nights; the way her hair had grown longer, falling like silence across her shoulders.
She looked heartbreakingly beautiful. Not in the way the world defines it, but in the way sorrow shapes someone who kept going anyway.
And it killed him—
That he was the reason her eyes were wet.
That her sadness wore his name.
She stood there, shoulders tight, something trembling at the edges of her expression. She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or fall into his chest and tell him to hold her like nothing ever broke. But all she could say was, “Then don’t leave again.”
He looked at her, really looked—no flinching, no turning away.
“I won’t,” he said. “Not if you want me to stay.”
The moment his words settled between them, she didn’t think—she moved.
Two steps. Three.
She crashed into him.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders with a desperation that trembled. He froze at first, caught in the sheer force of her pain, then slowly—gently—his arms came up, holding her like she might disappear again if he let go.
Her voice broke between sobs against his shoulder. “I hate you… for disappearing from me.” Her fists curled into his jacket like she wanted to push him away and pull him closer at the same time.
“I hate that you left without a word. I hate that I waited. That I made excuses. That I let you take everything with you.” Sieun didn’t flinch. He just held her tighter, his chin resting lightly against the top of her head, grounding her in the way she didn’t know she still craved.
"I know" he whispered into her ear, as his hands rested carefully on her waist, "I hate myself too."
Her crying wasn’t loud—but it hurt. It was the kind of crying that sounded like years of swallowed grief cracking open in the arms of someone who once knew her heart.
And in that hospital room, with the beep of Suho’s monitors humming steady in the background, it was the most honest they’d ever been.
No more pride.
No more what ifs.
No more sleepless nights.
No more wondering.
No more pretending.
Just them.
The two of them.
And maybe Suho too.
Just them—tired, broken, but finally, finally not alone.
The sobs had quieted into soft sniffles. She didn’t let go at first—but Sieun gently pulled back, just enough to meet her eyes. His voice still low from everything that had been said. "I have to go."
She didn’t flinch. She just blinked, slow and steady, like she was trying to brace herself for something she already knew. “They’re waiting for you, aren't they.” she said to him.
That made him pause. His brow pulled in, confused. “Have you met them?” She nodded once, wiping gently under her eye with the edge of her thumb. Her voice softened, raw at the edges. “They remind me of Suho, Yeong-I and...Beomseok before.” She whispered like a broken tale.
There it was—the way his shoulders dipped, almost imperceptibly. Something in him shifted. A ghost passed between them. And for the briefest second, something rare flickered across his face: a smile. Small, hesitant. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it curled faintly at the corners, like it was trying.
Like it still hurt.
“You want to meet them?”
The question sat between them like glass. Fragile. Waiting.
She looked down, flexed her fingers once, then met his eyes again.
“Do you want me to?”
The air shifted—just slightly. It was still thick with history, but the weight of it wasn’t unbearable anymore. Something in it had softened. And for once, there was no panic in his silence.
He didn’t rush to answer. He just breathed.
“Yeah,” he said at last. “I think I do.”
She took a breath of her own, the kind that comes from choosing to stay, even when the past clings to your ribs. Then she stepped forward—close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed, not quite touching, but near enough that warmth moved between them again.
“Then let’s go,” she said.
So they did. No grand declarations. No clean endings. Just two people walking slowly through the quiet, side by side, carrying what couldn’t be fixed—but not alone this time.
They stepped into the lobby, their fingers still loosely threaded—barely holding, but not letting go. The world outside the hospital buzzed with fluorescent hums and distant footsteps, louder now, clearer somehow. And yet, the quiet between them was no longer something sharp. It was calm. Steady. A kind of peace.
Sieun’s pace faltered when he saw them.
Jun-tae stood with a gaze filled with worry. Go Tak was next to him—always alert, the crease between his brows softening the moment his eyes landed on Sieun. Baku sat on the bench, knee bouncing restlessly like he’d been trying not to bounce off the walls entirely.
Jun-tae noticed first.
“Sieun,” he said simply.
Go Tak straightened, the edge in his posture lifting slightly. “You okay?”
Sieun gave a small nod. His voice was low, but there was something solid in it now.
“Yeah. I'm pretty sure.”
He didn’t elaborate, but none of them needed more than that.
Jun-tae gave a tearful confession, she smiled at him. He was a nice kid. Then this guy—stands up and pats him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Saying that he doesn't need to worry about Sieun at all. Go Tak offered a small nod, concern folding quietly into relief.
“Took you long enough,” he said, voice just above a murmur.
This guy, Baku.
He stood with all the dramatic energy of someone who’d been holding back a performance, like the entire hospital lobby was his stage and he’d just found his cue. With a flourish only Baku could pull off, he patted Jun-tae’s shoulder—a casual gesture that somehow still managed to be loud—and then turned, eyes narrowing like he’d spotted something scandalous.
His gaze dropped to their hands—still loosely laced, still warm from all the unspoken things they hadn’t let go of yet. Baku’s eyes darted between them, growing comically wide. He pointed, slowly, accusingly, like he’d uncovered a government secret.
“WAIT—SIEUN—YOU—SHE—YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!”
Sieun blinked.
She blinked.
The hand-holding, still soft between them, hadn’t quite registered until that exact moment.
Sieun looked down at their hands like he was just now remembering he’d been holding hers. She didn’t let go, though. Neither did he.
Go Tak rolled his eyes with a sigh. Jun-tae chuckled softly even with tears brimming his eyes.
But Baku was already mid-spin, arms out, voice raised dramatically.
“Can we just take a moment to appreciate this development? Sieun! With a hand-holding—a hand-holding!—in public!”
Sieun groaned under his breath.
“It’s not like that.”
She lifted her chin a little, trying not to smile.
“We’re just close.”
Baku gave them both a slow, skeptical once-over before the corners of his mouth curled up into a knowing grin.
“It’s like the confession scene in Slam Dunk,” he said, voice dipped in exaggerated awe, clutching his chest as if overcome by the sheer romance of it all. “You know—when Rukawa says nothing but it’s everything? The hands, the silence, the undeniable tension—ah, iconic.”
She laughed at him, “…Rukawa never confessed.”
“That’s the point!” Baku cried, throwing his arms up. “The beauty is in the restraint! In the mutual understanding! In the unspoken emotions shimerring beneath the surface!”
Go Tak sighed, clearly done with this.
No one bothered correcting him again.
The group moved on, steps falling into rhythm. The jokes kept coming, the teasing never quite biting. And between all of it, their hands stayed where they were—still laced, still sure.
She smiled as she watched them—three boys tangled in their usual chaos, laughter sparking like old warmth in a place too quiet for too long. Her voice came low, almost a sigh dressed in fondness.
“Wah… he really is like Suho.” She murmured quietly but enough for Sieun to hear. At the sound of her, Sieun turned. His gaze found hers, lingering—not with surprise, but something quieter. Something like recognition. “You’re leaving?”
She nodded, the edges of her smile softening. “I should. I’ve been here too long… and you’ve got company now.” But he was already moving before she finished, closing the distance like a reflex he hadn’t forgotten.
“I’ll walk you out.”
The three looked at them, and just let them be.
They stepped into the hall together, silence pressing gently between them—not heavy, not awkward, just full of all the things neither of them had the courage to name.
Then, from behind them—
“YEAH, SIEUN—TAKE CARE OF YOUR GIRLFRIEND!” Baku’s voice rang out, unfiltered and obnoxiously proud.
Sieun didn’t miss a beat.
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
He stated, but his eyes glint at him. "Back off"
Baku grinned wider, unbothered. “So I can ask her out?” A sharp thwack cracked through the air as Go Tak smacked the back of Baku’s head, exasperated. “You idiot.”
She laughed, quietly.
And Sieun, for a moment, almost smiled too. He grasped tightly to her hand as they walked side by side.
The automatic doors slid open in front of them. The cold outside air kissed her cheeks, sharp and sobering. Sieun stepped out beside her, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes cast toward the horizon like he was searching for something that hadn’t quite arrived yet.
They walked a few steps in silence, their shoulders not quite touching, but close enough to feel the presence of one another.
“I wasn’t planning to stay long,” she said quietly, watching her breath curl in the air like smoke. “But it felt hard to leave.”
Sieun looked at her. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
She nodded, eyes fixed on the ground. “I didn’t know what I wanted to say when I saw you again,” she admitted. “But it was never about the words, was it?”
“No,” he murmured. “It was about showing up.”
The silence this time wasn’t heavy. It hung between them like a thread, soft and delicate, but strong enough to hold something unspoken.
She paused near the curb, the edge of where she had to go. He stopped with her.
“Text me,” she said again, barely above a whisper. “Even if it’s just one word.”
“I will.” This time, she smiled—not wide, but real. She took a step backward, eyes still on him.
“Take care of them, okay?” He nodded. “I will.”
And when she turned to leave, he didn’t stop her—not out of apathy, but trust. Trust that she would turn around if she ever needed to, and he’d be there.
Sieun stood beneath the washed-out glow of the awning, the light pooling softly at his feet. He didn’t call her name. Didn’t move. Just watched as she walked into the night, her figure slowly swallowed by shadows and streetlight.
She didn’t look back. Not at first.
But a few steps before the crosswalk, she stopped. The kind of pause that wasn’t hesitation—it was decision.
Then she turned.
Her eyes weren’t bright with tears, and her expression held no drama. Just a kind of quiet knowing. She walked back toward him, deliberate, steady. When she stopped again, it wasn’t hesitation—it was declaration.
From her pocket, she pulled something small.
Then—flick—the arc of motion was smooth, unceremonious. It landed in his hand with the soft clink of metal.
A black punch ring.
Sieun blinked down at it, the cool weight settling into his palm. He didn’t need to ask why. Her voice came low and firm, laced with something fiercer than sadness. “You can’t possibly win with just a ballpen, Sieun-ah. I don’t know what you’re fighting for… but you better win.”
And just like that, she turned.
No goodbye. No glance over her shoulder.
Only the echo of her footsteps and the charged silence she left behind.
Sieun stared at the ring, the hard curve of it pressing into his lifeline.
And then—just barely—a smile found its way to his face.
Not joy. Not hope.
But the kind saying that he was ready.
Ready for her.
Reay to face it all.
After all, he is a hero. A weak one.
♡ note ───── I'd do anything just for you to be mines again. I felt sadness pour into me. When you became a stranger, I knew that you'd be leaving me. Then you became a danger, I felt sadness pour into me.
♡ note ── hope you enjoy it, this would be the last part <3 Probably there would be another one but in S3
genre. fluff. mutual pining. whc1 w/o the angst au.
warnings. they're both whipped.
pairing. sieun x fem!reader.
wc. 2.6k. (wish it was longer damn)
request. no.
a/n. happy birthday @yeonjuns-redhair i love you so so so so much you'd better enjoy it 🔪
Sieun hadn’t taken much interest in girls during his life. Other than the fleeting first crush he had when he was fourteen, girls had been the last thing on his mind as he focused all his energy into his grades. But there was just something about you that Sieun couldn’t ignore. Without realising it, he was falling head over heels in love with you and he didn’t even have the courage to speak a single word to you.
You sat a seat up from Sieun one row over, a spot which allowed him to admire you silently whenever he wanted (which was increasingly becoming the only thing he wanted to do). Whenever the window was open on a warmer day, the breeze would always reach your hair and blow in just the way to take Sieun’s breath away. He had become an expert at pretending to be absorbed in his notes like he always was, but his gaze always found its way to you eventually.
The first person to realise was Sooho.
“You like Y/n or something?” Sooho teased, dropping into the seat in front of Sieun, making him look up from his notes which hadn’t been added to in the past 20 minutes despite the pencil in his hand.
“Is it obvious?” Sieun said in a panicked voice, eyes glancing over the mostly empty room just to make sure no one was listening.
“Given that she has the power to take your attention away from your studies, I’d say so.” Sooho pointed out, grinning.
“What do I do?” Sieun sighed, dropping his pencil, dropping his head into his hands.
Sooho leaned back in his seat, pretending to think, “Ask her out, obviously.”
Sieun’s eyes widened, “What?”
“What?” Sooho echoed.
“I… I can’t ask her out.”
“Why not?”
Sieun flushed, “...She’s too good for me.” He mumbled.
Sooho raised his eyebrow at this, “Oh, you’re more whipped than I thought.” He gave Sieun a lopsided grin, finding the younger boy adorable. “Let me guess, you’ve never had a girlfriend before?” Sieun shook his head. “Don’t worry,” Sooho nodded as he spoke, “I can help you.”
“How?”
“Private lessons.” Sooho concluded, standing up and patting Sieun’s shoulder before walking out of the classroom. Sieun stared at him as he left, feeling the anxiety rising and he tried to gulp it back down.
//
Sieun’s first “private lesson” took place the next day. As he worked his part time job at the restaurant, Sooho gave all the advice he had to Sieun. Most of it went right over the smaller boy’s head, but he tried his best to at least write it all down on a notepad. He would need all the help he could get in order to even approach you, so he studied diligently.
“Figure out what she likes first. If she likes strawberry smoothies, buy her a strawberry smoothie. If she likes stuffed animals, buy her one. But be nonchalant about it, like you just happened to know that it was her favourite. Girls don’t like it when boys are obsessed with them.” Sooho explained as he sorted cans of soda.
“Am I too obsessed with her?” Sieun said suddenly, halting the movements of his pen.
“No, no, don’t worry about that. She’ll love you, you’re very lovable once you open up.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
“And what if she does? Stop overthinking it and write down what I say, okay?”
Sieun left that first lesson overwhelmed. He had never thought so hard about how much eye contact to make or what pick-up lines to use. He was starting to feel like maybe he couldn’t do this. You were way out of his league and didn’t even know he existed. He was stupid to even try.
When he arrived at school in the morning, his head felt as cloudy as the sky outside. It was encroaching on a darkness but still clung to the cusp of a light grey. The clouds swirled around and hid the sun, a harsh breeze shifting the leaves on the trees.
Sieun opened his backpack to get out his notebook, but his attention was immediately drawn to a small bottle of mango juice. Sooho must have stuck it in. He grabbed it and found a sticky note with unmistakably Sooho’s handwriting scrawled on it.
I heard from her friend that this is her fav— remember what I told you ;)
Sieun sighed and peeled the sticky note off of the bottle, recalling all the steps Sooho had meticulously given him the previous day. Act cool, don’t try too hard, don’t act interested at first, etc.
Sieun busied himself with studying for the next hour, waiting for when you arrived to class so he could give you the juice. You walked in with a boy beside you and Sieun’s heart sunk. His eyes flickered between you and the boy who was clearly clinging to your side. Sieun thought that maybe you looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t know for sure. He just forced himself to look down at his paper, missing the way you instinctively looked at him, a mixture of disappointment in your face.
Sooho offered Sieun a ride home after school, eager to know if he had successfully made a move on you. “Did she like the juice?” Sooho asked brightly, passing Sieun the motorcycle helmet.
The other boy was silent as he put it on, still processing his disappointed emotions. Why did it make him feel like he was about to explode seeing someone else so close to you?
With the long pause, Sooho was quick to pick up on what had happened, “Don’t tell me you didn’t give it to her?” Sieun nodded quietly, affirming Sooho’s suspicions before sitting down on the motorcycle without another word. Sooho sighed and joined him, turning on the engine with a loud rev and entering the lane on the road.
//
You had known Sooho since your 5th birthday. He was that one kid who no one really knew why they were invited to the party, but ended up being the star anyway. He had caked you in the face on your 7th birthday as a prank, and now it was a tradition at every birthday.
No one was really aware of how close you two were, since you didn’t spend much time talking at school. Sooho was always sleeping and you were always spending way too much time being distracted by the most beautiful eyes- studying. You were studying.
It had been months of your studying being rudely distracted by this… certain someone, and your grades were realistically suffering because of it. You needed to do something about it, and luckily for you, Sooho was friends with this boy. It was like the stars had aligned.
“Sooho!” You sat down loudly at the desk in front of the sleeping boy, earning a tired groan as the boy attempted to wake up from his slumber.
“What?” He rubbed his eye lazily, waiting for you to bring up what was so important as to interrupt his precious sleep.
“I need to confess or else my grades will crash and burn.” You said dramatically, much to the confusion of the boy in front of you.
“Who are you confessing to?” He asked groggily but a bit more alert than before, thoughts of Sieun’s failed confession running through his brain immediately. What if you liked someone completely different? Should Sooho still encourage Sieun to confess to you?
“Sieun…” You muttered weakly.
“What?” Sooho’s eyes brightened when you repeated Sieun’s name in clarification. “I have a plan.”
Sooho’s plan was the most absurd thing you had ever heard. How the heck was randomly showing up to Sieun’s apartment going to achieve anything? What did he expect you two to do? Eat dinner?
Sooho had dropped you off 30 seconds ago and sped off on his motorcycle before you could figure out exactly where you were and bombard him with questions. He didn’t give you any instructions, any pointers. All he said was that Sieun had something to drink. You were confused and a little annoyed and scared. You would probably embarrass yourself in front of Sieun and then that would be the end of it. You wouldn’t have the courage to even look at the boy ever again.
You hesitantly knocked on the door since Sooho had threatened you in case you chose to run away instead of doing anything. As the door opened, you were faced with the pair of eyes that you expected. You watched as shock flickered over them.
You could practically melt right then and there just from looking at him. You had never actually seen him in clothes other than his school uniform, and while he looked good in it, he looked infinitely better in this; a soft crew neck and sweatpants. You could only imagine how comfortable it would be to hug him or even cuddle-
Your thoughts were shut down when Sieun spoke, a little timidly, “Do you want to come in?” His voice was soft like it always was. He never really talked much. Even when answering questions in class, he spoke in as few words as possible. You couldn’t lie, you found it endearing.
You nodded and walked through the door, finding the apartment unsurprisingly clean. You took off your shoes, staying in just your socks. Sieun tried to look for a spare pair of slippers to give you, but the only pair was his dad’s which were comically too big for you.
You gave up the search and walked to the couch to sit down. You could feel this warm feeling in the air, like some simmering tension. It wasn’t uncomfortable, in fact, it gave you the slight sensation of butterflies in your stomach.
Sieun sat next to you on the couch but not too close and you were both silent. You weren’t sure what to say or where to start. You had asked Sooho for help with confessing, but it would seem too abrupt to start with that. You wanted to warm up to Sieun first, though you weren’t sure how long you could wait before the words fell out of your mouth.
“Do you want a drink?” Sieun asked and you smiled. So Sooho wasn’t lying with that part.
“What are the options?”
“Uh…” He dropped his head, thinking for a second before running to the small fridge and pulling out a bottle of mango juice, “You like this… right?”
You nodded, “Yeah, I do.”
Sieun’s lips turned up into the cutest smile you had ever seen in your entire life. You felt like you were floating on clouds from the elated feeling. You made him smile.
Once you had received a glass of mango juice, the conversation started flowing a bit easier. You talked about school and hobbies and your favourite foods. Though Sieun didn’t say much, you could tell he was always listening to what you were saying. That was a bit unusual to you. You were always used to being ignored or thought of as obnoxious when you talked, so you rarely felt comfortable saying what you wanted to. With Sieun, however, you felt like you could say anything and he would listen.
It was late in the night and Sieun was preparing a small dinner for you both. He had been overwhelmingly kind and considerate that you felt your will to not confess being slowly withered away. You were about to crack, you could feel it. As soon as he did one more thing to make your heart flutter, you would have to spill it otherwise you were sure you would explode.
Your resolve was finally broken while you were eating. You were sitting across from Sieun on the floor, food spread out as best as Sieun could make it. You had a small bit of sauce on the corner of your lip, and before you could notice yourself, Sieun had leaned across the table and wiped it off gently with his thumb.
Your cheeks flushed pink at the touch. You were lucky you didn’t have any food in your mouth otherwise you would’ve probably choked. You were stunned, staring at the boy in front of you. And then he smiled as if he was shy but happy to help. You could see his ears had turned pink at the tips, and then finally your mouth was spitting out words before your brain could catch up.
“I like you, Sieun.”
//
“I’m nervous I’ll do it wrong.” Sieun whispered, head dropped to look at the floor. You could see his cheeks a bright red and you were sure that your boyfriend was the cutest thing this world had ever created.
“You won’t be able to mess up cuddling, I promise.” You reassured him.
“But I’ve never done it before… What if-”
“You’ve hugged me before.” You cut him off. He nodded. He had hugged you, many many times. He wanted to hug you right now. “It’ll just be like a prolonged hug… except more relaxed.” You understood how the thought of cuddling could feel daunting for him. He had been touch-starved his entire life. “I’ll show you how it works, but… you need to come here first.” You giggled and patted the spot next to you on the bed.
Sieun’s face flushed more and he joined you carefully, scooting next to you. You grabbed his wrist and tugged him even closer to you, “It’s hard to cuddle when there's a gap between us.” You explained with a smile.
You decided it would be best to make the first move, so you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your cheek on his chest. He was even more comfortable than you could’ve imagined, and you wondered why you hadn’t done this before. He smelled clean and calming, your nerves instantly becoming soothed by being so close to him.
He had tensed up at first, not sure how to respond and hyper aware of how fast his heart was beating. You were so pretty and the fact that you were hugging him so closely? Sieun would probably never recover. He figured that wrapping his arm around your shoulder would be natural, and he soon discovered that the position was 10 times more comfortable that way as you snuggled even closer to him.
“Your heart is beating so fast… Nervous?” You mumbled, peering up at him with a small teasing smile.
“Yeah…”
“Me too.” You whispered, a smile growing as you could feel both your hearts beating at the same fast rate.
Sieun was an excellent cuddler, he just didn’t realise it. He naturally started rubbing your arm in a soothing way until his hand travelled up to your hair and started playing with it. You were sure you would become addicted to cuddling him after this. Maybe you would ask him to cuddle with you everyday…
“Can I kiss you?” You asked suddenly. Sieun’s hand stopped playing with your hair.
“I… I’ve never-”
“I know. Me neither.” You said shyly, “It just… seemed like the right moment, but if you don’t-”
“I do. I really really do.” He said firmly and smiled a little. Your heart was already melted from the cuddles, but it was as good as evaporated at the sight of his smile.
“Okay.” You cupped his cheek cautiously before leaning in, not quite touching his lips, waiting for him to lean in as well. He pressed his lips to yours softly, timidly moving them in case you were uncomfortable or he was doing it wrong.
everyday things because they like you | whc characters x gn!reader one shots
pairings. Yeon Sieun. Ahn Suho. Oh Beomseok. Park Humin. Go Hyuntak. Kang Wooyoung. Geum Seongje. Na Baekjin. Baek Dongha. Do Seongmok. Jeon Yeongbin. Yeongi. Jeon Seokdae (omg new character) x reader
wc. tbe
genre./ contains. pre-dating. no warnings. FLUFF. everyone is whipped
note. back with my huzz (my laptop)
❀ YEON SIEUN
annotates your notes when you’re studying together
You were in the library together, your face almost even with the table, but Sieun wasn't commenting on it yet. The soft scribble of your pen against the paper in front of you was soothing, lulling you in like a sleep lullaby and you were getting drowsy.
“Do you want a pillow?” Ah, there it is.
You sighed, no fight left in you to bite back. “I need the letters to all have the same size.”, you mumbled, understanding Sieun’s frown hence you wouldn’t have been able to decipher that gibberish either had it not left your own mouth.
Sieun rested his eyes on your face for a few more beats before sighing and closing his own books. With a gentle tug he grabbed your note book and shuffled it over his own, calmly starting to write down some notes. “You can rewrite them later.”
❀ AHN SUHO
stands in front of your door to pick you up for a ride when he knows you can’t fall asleep
Had someone asked you if your boyfriend had a superpower, you wouldn’t waste a beat before claiming that he did. Suho had a sixth sense: he always knew when you lacked something.
One time you had forgotten your jacket on a late date night and started shivering in the cold, so he just gasped as he pulled his own windbreaker off his shoulders, revealing a thick sweater you hadn't seen on him before, and draped it over yours. “I had a feeling I should put on warm clothes.”, he joked.
When your stomach rumbled on your way home a few days later, Suho’s notification popped up in that exact moment with a casual invitation to join him for dinner.
He always knew what you needed and when you did. Like tonight.
You had tried a myriad of sleeping positions, food, TV and phone screens burning into your retinas and still, sleep failed to mantle you in.
When you had almost given up and decided to binge watch the new show everyone around you was glazing, a loud knock on your front door had you jolt.
You opened it, shivering against the cold air you had invited in, to reveal your friend. He wore a lazy grin as he handed you his extra helmet. "Trouble sleeping?"
❀ OH BEOMSEOK
asks you to punch the straw through the lid of his drink and offers you the first sip of his drink
You thought you were slick, stealing glimpses at his drink but little did you know that he was following every gaze that drifted towards his cup. Maybe you should’ve chosen a bubble tea as well, instead of an iced coffee.
The most subtle smile tugged on Beomseok’s lips as he tipped his drink towards you, the liquid immediately rushing to the inclination. “Wanna put the straw in?”, he offered you, honey-drippingly sweet. You went to decline, but he’d seen through you.
“The lid always rips when I do it.” His pout was artificial and you called it, but the gesture made your heart squeeze, so you took the straw out his grasp and started unwrapping the plastic with a bustle.
“Tell me what it tastes like?” After a pointy look from you, he added: “I forgot what I ordered.”
You kept the tug on your lips at bay as you lazily covered the printed label, that bore the ingredients, with your hand.
❀ PARK HUMIN (BAKU)
wakes you up with a call
There was absolutely no sound in your room, or at least not detectable in your position, hence the pillow over your head drowned everything out, your breath included.
The vibration of your phone was barely there, at least ignorable for now—only it kept getting louder. You groaned, blindly feeling your mattress for your phone, but the sensation of victory was short lived as you swiped your thumb over the screen to accept the call.
“Don’t start singing.”, you immediately hoarsed, earning a scoff and a cut off version of what you could only assume was the intro of eye of the tiger.
“You overslept again.”, Humin all but barked into your ear, making you wince as you moved the phone a little further away from your face. “I’m in front of your door, so open up, yeah?” You could basically hear the grin in his voice.
With a sigh, you ditched the rest of sleep and shot up to check the time. 7:54.
“Humin.”, you drawled. “Now we’ll both be late.”
❀ GO HYUNTAK (GOTAK)
lets you win in basketball 🏀 (only thing he doesn't suck at btw)
The red letters on the display were going up with every toss that made it through the hoop, consequently Gotak’s were skyrocketing while you tailed him close behind.
His eyes kept glimpsing back at you, but the triumphant smile that was plastered across his face seemed a little too droopy at the corners. He wanted you to win.
“You only have like 5 shots left.”, you pointed out. You had seven. The one with the lower score had to pay for lunch — at least that was what you had agreed on.
When you had dunked the most recent one, your friend suddenly started to see double— or whatever other pretext he had come up with to excuse his sudden loss streak.
As your highscore blinked repeatedly, the hasty rhythm biting your vision, you turned to Gotak, cocking a brow at his smug expression.
“Don‘t you do this like professionally?“, you inquired at which he just opened his mouth and closed it soon after, unable to come up with an excuse.
“Did you seriously just let me win?” Your guess must‘ve hit bullseye, but Gotak waved your accusation off with a flick of his hand.
“Name one reason why I should’ve done that.”
“Oh, you absolutely did.”, you concluded with a scoff. Gotak slid his hands into his jean pockets as he led the way out the arcade.
“I just wanted to be a gentleman.” That statement was worth your eyeroll.
“You‘re basically calling me poor.“, you shot back, making your friend groan.
“Guess who’s not getting dessert.”, he drawled, stopping short as he heard the beeping sounds emit from your phone. “Who are you calling?“
You ignored him, waiting for your other friend to pick up the call.
“Humin,", you whined. "guess who just called me fat.“
❀ KANG WOOYOUNG
eats your left-overs to soothe your conscience
The plate scurried across the table with a loud clatter, making Wooyoung’s head whirl up as he shifted his attention from his phone to you.
You sighed, at which he arched an eyebrow. “I’m full.”, you announced with a pout.
Wooyoung eyed your half eaten plate before looking back at you. “That’s like two bites. Just eat it.”
Easier said than done. “Don’t you think I would if I had the capacity?” He knew how much you hated left-overs, calling it a waste of food, so when you offered him your fork, he took it with a light groan.
“Are you aware that I have to do extra sessions to train this off?” His tone was accusing, but speaking with a full mouth failed to capture any bite in his words so you just nodded along.
“Yeah, that sucks.”
❀ GEUM SEONGJE
flanks u in video games
“Get next to me!” Your voice was booming, but the explosions spilling out the cushioned headphones made you doubt that any volume had left your mouth.
“I am next to you.” Seongje’s annoyed voice on the other hand was clear as day, hence you were on call with him.
The screen before you flickered as a grenade exploded right next to you. You barley managed to steer the remote to the side, too caught up looking for your friend’s avatar.
“No, you’re not. You’re tailing behind.”
When he had finally picked up the pace and landed next to you, you continued running, subtly glimpsing at his kill count. The gap between yours and his couldn’t have been any further.
“Where do you keep finding people to shoot? There’s no one around me.”, you wondered aloud.
The click of Seongje’s gun was loud enough for you to hear but you barely paid it any attention as you eyed your next loot.
As usual, you were oblivious to the gunmen that had caught up with you.
“Yeah, I wonder why.”, Seongje just huffed.
❀ NA BAEKJIN
let’s you pick the movie
The night was bustling with laughter and excitement as the people around you mingled together, awaiting the start of the entry to the movies.
Your eyes kept darting back to the groups, curiosity lingering in your chest. You hadn’t made any research on that film, but you had heard that people were awaiting it for a year now after an accidental leak of production scenes.
Baekjin had asked you to accompany him to the cinema tonight because he needed his mind off things and you were glad to comply, happily accepting his choice of movie. Psychological thriller. Easy to keep track of the plot.
He noticed your sway of interest. He really picked up on everything.
You hadn’t noticed Baekjin slipping back to the register to swap out the tickets, but when the screen announced room B for the movie you thought you were about to watch and you headed for it, Baekjin softly tugged on your sleeve as he stirred you into the opposite direction. “We’re not watching that one anymore.”
❀ BAEK DONGHA
gives you his jacket, knowing that your closet is filled with more of his stuff than yours
Dongha did a double take as you ascended from the stairs of your apartment complex, narrowing his eyes as he let his gaze sweep over your outfit choice.
You closed the distance to him in a swirl, showing off your new top, but his eyes were still stuck on your pants. “What?”, you asked him, a snicker escaping you at his raised brow.
He hooked a finger in the waistband of the washed out denim, ignoring your complaint as he pulled the material back to take a look at the faint tag. “These are mine.”, he concluded, eyes wide in disbelief.
You just smiled sheepishly, snapping the denim out of his hold as you flashed him your white teeth. “I know.”
The evening grew frowsy, but the vibes were too immaculate to call it a night already. So you found yourself hurled together with two of your friends, exchanging meaningless conversation that made you laugh in the ecstasy, mingling with the cold that ran through your veins while taking drags from the a cigarette you kept passing around.
Your shoulders were almost touching from the way your body tried to create a barrier from the chill and you jumped at the contact of cold polyester brushing your sensitive skin.
Dongha had draped his jacket over you, a trail of smoke following him around as he made his way back to his other group of friends.
“You know, I’m gonna keep this.”, you called over your back but to your comfort, he just dismissively shook his hand in your direction.
❀ DO SEONGMOK
puts your hair in a tie (has one around his wrist)
One thing about Seongmok that kept surprising you, no matter how often he’d proven it, was his gentleness.
You had been busy prepping food in your kitchen, when he’d rung the bell to simply announce himself before opening the front door and seating himself in one of your kitchen chairs.
He didn’t say anything (as usual), just let his gaze sweep over the arrangement of snacks you had prepared for your friends’ arrival in a few hours and grabbed a bunch, knowingly avoiding your pointy look.
After a while of cutting fruits, your hair had slipped from where you had tucked it behind your ear, crowding your vision and tickling your nose, in addition to almost dipping into your snacks.
The shift behind you was as noticeable as a man of his statue could be, shuffling behind you to gather your ends in a high ponytail. He raked his fingers around the shape of your hairline a few times to make sure he had caught each one before snapping the hair-tie around the hair three times.
He tugged on the end of the ponytail one last time, tipping your head back in the matter and you met his eyes as you faced him grinning down at you.
❀ JEON YEONGBIN
lets you copy his answers in a test
The ticking of the clock inside the classroom was starting to harmonise with the rhythm of your pen tapping against your desk—a subconscious show of the calmness that was resting in your bones.
You hadn’t bothered to glimpse down to your test in the past ten minutes, hence the questions weren’t gonna be easier to answer than they’d been the last time you checked, and the sheet wasn’t gonna be any fraction less blank either.
You had calmly given up, when a harsh kick on the back of your chair had you jolt in your seat. The polyester scraped against the floor but it wasn’t loud enough to make anyone look up.
With a breathy sigh and a violently pumping heart, you turned, meeting your friend’s annoyed expression. Yeongbin had his eyebrows raised, muttering something along a curse as he tapped his pen against his fully scribbled paper.
While you gladly copied his answers, he held guard to check for anybody noticing.
❀ YEONGI
braids your hair after you’ve showered because she likes it wavy
Her fingers were soft where they tangled between your strands of hair, a light tug here and there reminding you what task she was up to. A familiar warmth seeped from her touch and it made your entire body shudder in delight.
“I’m gonna fall asleep like this.”, you half-heartedly complained, but your eyelids were kinda growing heavy.
Yeongi scoffed. “If you keep whining, I’m never going to braid your hair again.” You muttered a little sure, subtly shaking your head. Like she’d survive that.
With a yawn you dropped your face on one of her thighs, the foot of the bed she was sitting on steady behind your back as you leaned your weight against it.
❀ JEON SEOKDAE
offers you a piggyback ride when he notices that your feet hurt
You were walking for a while now, straight pulses of pain shooting up your legs and the way your achilles heel clung to the material of your padded shoes, you could already assume the crimson mess that would await you once you had slipped out of them at home.
Seokdae seemed less troubled with the path, his breath not as laboured as yours while he stole some glances towards you. His eyebrows were knitted and his jaw was tense, clearly, he’d been thinking.
Your friend had noticed the trouble your shoes gave you and after you declined his numerous offers to take a break, he was contemplating a new approach. You jumped when he drew his shoulders together in a mock-shudder.
“What’s wrong?”, you asked at which he just shrugged. “My back feels cold.”
The statement was so ridiculous, it pulled a laugh from you. His intentions were clear and you were too tired to tease him. “I’ll warm you up.”, you relented, already throwing your arms around his neck as he lowered himself to help you climb up.
I know you write WHC boys as romantic so totally all good if you ignore this request but would you ever write head cannons of WHC boys having a sister who dates their enemy/someone they hate :))
dating their enemies | whc boys as reader's salty brothers
featuring : Yeon Sieun, Ahn Suho, Oh Beomseok, Park Humin, Go Hyuntak, Kang Wooyoung, Geum Seongje, Na Baekjin, Yeongbin
genre: fluff, wc: 815
a/n: English isn't my first language so pls bear with any grammar mistakes (the gradient is so cute I love the color!)
@anon: dw I write about anything
͙͘͡★ YEON SIEUN
- dating: Yeongbin
- just stares at you with wide eyes when he finds out
- genuinely deer caught in the headlights cause he doesn’t know what to do
- at the end of the day it’s your life and he knows that but he’ll try to make you see it yourself
- would go to Youngbin and ask him to leave you alone, but obviously that's not gonna do much so he'll try you next
- sits you down and explains to you point for point why it’s a bad idea
͙͘͡★ AHN SUHO
- dating: Kang Wooyoung
- “naaah.” And drags you away from him
- demands to speak to Wooyoung, hands in his pockets, dangerous smile on his lips “the adults are talking right now, go wait in your room.” and for some reason you comply, the expression in his face telling you not to test his patience today
- won’t tell grandma because he doesn’t want to stress her out
- "aren't you a little young for dating anyway?"
- will get Youngi on his side as well and ask her to persuade you how terrible the idea of dating Wooyoung is and trust she'll succeed
͙͘͡★ OH BEOMSEOK
- dating: Yeongbin
- the betrayal
- sucks at communication so he’ll probably expect you to put one and one together yourself
- he'll sulk and hurt in silence until someone (no one in your family) picks up on it and asks him right away
- at the end of the day it's probably Sieun that comes to talk to you, Suho in tow and he'll assure you that Beomseok didn't put them up to this but you wouldn't wanna date his tormentor anyways
͙͘͡★ PARK HUMIN (BAKU)
- dating: Na Baekjin
- his anger isn’t loud, it’s the resentment he bears in his eyes that make your cheeks burn red in shame
- he swears that he only does this for your own safety and that you can’t trust that guy
- if he happens to catch you red handed, he’ll drag you away by your arm, applying a little more pressure than necessary
- actually sees it as his job to keep you safe so being rebellious and sneaking out is a hard task with a brother like him
͙͘͡★ GO HYUNTAK (GOTAK)
- dating: Geum Seongje
- “you’re dating criminals now?”
- he would deadass lock you in your room, make you think about what you’re doing
- calls Baku to ask him about his opinion “Yeah, I just locked her in.”, he’d confess, key still clutched in his clammy hand. “I don’t know, I panicked.”
- such a hothead, he’d walk up and down his room, thinking about snitching to your parents but he doesn’t want to fuck up your bond so he’ll just take matters into his own hands
- would find Seongje for a chat and let it escalate into a fight quickly
- you’d try to sneak out whenever you’re having a date but Seongje makes sure your brother knows, blaring the honk when he’s arrived, sending him quick pictures when you’re out eating "guess who's joining me today." / "look who I've stumbled upon."
͙͘͡★ KANG WOOYOUNG
- dating: Ahn Suho/ Yeon Sieun
- he’d hit you, not hard, but a slap against the back of your head
- “Why you always giving me a headache."
- walking you to school and picking you up
- would fling his charm and make one of your friends confess whether you're still seeing him
- up for a fight from the moment he learns who you're seeing
͙͘͡★ GEUM SEONGJE
- dating: Go Hyuntak
- “want me to fuck up his other knee?”
- deadass sends his minions to go find him
- doesn't hit you, but the glare he meets you with promises to make bruises bloom across your skin
- actually installs a tracking app on your phone and makes his people give him live updates about your whereabouts and who you're hanging out with
͙͘͡★ NA BAEKJIN
- dating: Park Humin
now that should be him
- rounds up some guys to go mess with Baku’s life, whether it’s threatening Gotak or Humin’s dad, he’ll make sure to get the message across: Stay away from her
- glares you down and simply forbids you from seeing him “You can’t just keep me from seeing him, you’re not my dad.”, you’d argue, but it’d fall on deaf ears since you guys are all you have being orphans
- you’re never walking anywhere alone again, he’s making sure you’re meeting your girls only when you say that’s where you’re going
͙͘͡★ YEONGBIN
- dating: Yeon Sieun
- he’d be sooo pissed
- he’s a guy who gets hit by his sisters for sure so he’ll take it out on Sieun instead, bullying him in school and just try to make the boy associate only negative stuff with you
-> he'll actually make you break up with Sieun because you're scared that he'll torment him too much if you keep this up
- would offer you one of his friends instead, then think about it and take the proposition back
do u have any fics or headcanons for ahn suho? i just keep rereading the same stuff over and over again😭
Ahn Suho Ultra Masterlist
SFW / FLUFF
001. spending a day with Ahn Suho @whcfreak
002. jealous @whcfreak
003. the type to… @10baku
004. helping him with his homework @suhoholic
005. more than u know @suhoholic
006. I think he loves u more than me now @rose24207
007. if u say u love me, say it first @rinswirls
008. tape by @softspiderling
009.under his skin @lecatty
010. close enough @rurusdiaryy
011.. Only he knew by @speedywizardland (no masterlist, no tags but a million fics)
012. bf hcs @sushiyenie
013.Suho as your bf @rurusdiaryy
ANGST / FLUFF
001.crystal shields @weakheronicki
002. I forgot to remember the title (silent storm) @lilswooddd
NSFW / SMUT
001. teach me @eoriu
002. first time together @k1mbe3rly
003. this one has no title @yversz
004. jealous baby @slaybinnie
005. tonight I’m gonna give u all my love @ylvra
006. actually a whole buffet this m.list @juliettejwnewinesa
007. distraction @parkjihoonswifey
008. seven minutes in heaven @weakheronicki
019.keep each other company by @softspiderling
020. smooth operator by @softspiderling (link in 019.!)
mine: check out the masterlist cause I can’t add any more links
001.friends help each other out (ft. Sieun) 002. pt. 2 003. birthday boi (ft. Sieun) 004. NSFW alphabet 005. tired after work 006. boyfriend headcanons 007. movie scenes (ft. Kang Wooyoung) 008. boyfriend headcanons (ft. Sieun) 009.fun fair 010.helping him out
021. let me tell you @yversz
022.arguments can be solved w/ a quicky
FICS (x reader)
001. every breath you take @carixie
in which a school ghost noticed suho was avoiding her. could it be that he could see her?
AO3
FICS Ahn Suho x Yeon Sieun
001. your need grows teeth (fic. to be updated/ unfinishesd. fluff. chap. 7 yet. 31.5k. my absolute fave rn)
[Sieun and Suho have hated each other since the first day they met on the college campus. But everything begins to change when a fire at the dorm forces them to share the same room.]
ONE SHOTS Ahn Suho x Yeon Sieun
001. guess that’s ur purpose (one shot. smut. military au. non-canon. 9.8k)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/82041246
[Or, a military au where Sergeant Ahn Suho goes out of his way to protect Private Yeon Sieun]
002. untouched (one shot. smut. 5.7k)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/71040751
[Sieun has never touched himself. Suho can’t help going a little crazy over it.]
003. poison in my mind (one shot. smut. 3.3k)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/77027296
[In which Sieun accidentally takes an aphrodisiac and convinces the one person plaguing his thoughts to help him out.]
004. I was weak that’s why I needed u (one shot. plot. non-canon. college au. smut. 6.5k)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/74213396
[Or, Sieun takes a liking to a scare actor dressed as Pyramid Head, unaware that the person beneath the mask is exactly who he's dreaming of.]
005. I’ll set you u free from ur sanity (one shot. plot. non-canon. college-au. smut. 13.5k)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/71396646
[In which Sieun’s boyfriend opens their relationship up. And then Sieun meets Suho]
-> Tumblr writers are mild compared to the ones on ao3
pairings: Yeon Sieun x gn!reader, Ahn Suho x gn!reader, Oh Beomsoek x gn!reader, Park Humin x gn!reader, Go Hyuntak x gn!reader, Kang Wooyoung x gn!reader, Geum Seongje x gn!reader, Na Baekjin x gn!reader, Jeon Yeongbin x gn!reader
wc: 703 genre: fluff
synopsis: what cars would they want to drive, what cars do they end up driving and what’s their etiquettes
a/n : English isn‘t my first Language so pls bear w any grammar mistakes also my laziest post ever haha
⚠︎ YEON SIEUN
- what he'd want : beetle (he’d love a two seater so that he’ll never have to drive someone around— and this way no one can sneak their way into your date night)
-would drive: his parents got him a squeaky Audi
- he‘ll audibly groan when someone tries to invite themselves to Date Nights or asks for a lift
- never uses the blare and will glare at everyone who dares to push it whenever he refuses to
⚠︎ AHN SUHO
- what he'd want: Yamaha, red
- would drive: a delivery mofa but you’d never hear him complain
“does its job. That’s all it’s supposed to do.”
- somehow fits three people on his bike, but he doesn’t give into any worries cause he has one helmet his friends can take turns using
- always picking you up especially if it‘s getting late
⚠︎ OH BEOMSEOK
- what he'd want : ferrari
-would drive: his dad got him a Genesis cause he needs to hold up that prestige, can‘t have his son drive around in anything less flashy (but couldn‘t care enough to get him something he wanted either)
- he‘d park before your place super quietly and ring the bell once, waiting for you to come out with his back straight and flowers awaiting you
⚠︎ PARK HUMIN (BAKU)
- what he'd want : G Wagon
- would drive: Pick Up
- enough space for all his friends
- uses the honk when he’s picking you up, but not in a mannerless manner, no, he’ll blare the honk, get out of the car and wait in front of your door
(instead of using the door bell, but don‘t worry— he will knock obnoxiously hard against the door if that thing doesn’t spring open within a minute of him standing there)
⚠︎ GO HYUNTAK (GOTAK)
- what he'd want : Audi
- would drive: his mom’s old volvo/ honda
- got his license the second he could
- abuses the fuck out of that honk
- won’t accept the term “soccer mom car” and will only unlock the door once you’ve apologised
“Yeah. Yeah. Let’s see your car.”
- Do not road rage against him— he won’t hesitate to make everyone crash into a tree
⚠︎ KANG WOOYOUNG
- what he'd want : cabrio, nissan (ever since Fast & Furious that’s his go to)
- has a shoe box filled with speeding tickets he refuses to pay
- got a driving Suspension for raising his middle finger towards the speed trap he swears he didn’t even see
- would pick you up, not get out of the car tho— he‘d text you he‘s arrived once and then scrolls on his phone until you‘ve made it to the passenger seat
Wooyoung car smut next? Yes or no?
⚠︎ GEUM SEONGJE
- what he'd want : mercedes benz
(has a collection of stars his minions bring him every other day like cats would bring their people dead birds)
- “why did you steal this.” They just shrug their shoulders in unison
- doesn’t know what to do with them and makes the boys sell them online
- drives way too close to bicyclists and scares the shit out of them
- would leave you in the middle of the road for pissing him off and then drive all the way back in search of you cause he’s worried that you got kidnapped hitch hiking or run over by a car
⚠︎ NA BAEKJIN
-what he'd want : rolls royce
- black elegance
- could do a rolls royce if he really wanted to but keeps it on the low
-would drive:mercedes benz, limousine -> black
- doesn’t tell you when he’s arrived, expects you to sense his car and come out without ringing your bell or knocking on the door — would just drive off if you took too long
⚠︎ JEON YEONGBIN
- he drives whatever car he wants to
- what he'd want: could do ferrari but prefers a porsche
- would always steal his mom’s keys and drive the tires of her car flat and when she confronts him about it, he’s like “I swear it wasn’t me.” meanwhile the whole interior smells like his aftershave
- takes his whole friend group on sprees and violates the speed limit like it’s an olympic category he’s trying to score gold in
- could change his tires himself cause he knows how to but doesn’t see why he’ll have to so he’d just call someone over
