#ateez school au

[eightmakesonebraincell]

can i get a name for your drink? yeah, peter parker

genre: delinquent!ateez x bubble tea worker!reader, meet-cute, high school au, fluff, crack

length: 6.6k

c/w: cliche depictions of high school delinquents, mentions of smoking, drugs and clubs, boys trying to act tough, everybody has bad humour, swearing is their mother tongue

synopsis: a bubble tea shop is one of the last places you would expect for a high school delinquent to walk into during the dead of night. yet here you are, forming an unlikely friendship with not one but eight of them. they may be kind of stupid, but they also kind of grow on you.

a/n: a fic with no angst? a fic without a 40k wc?? new writer who dis. just a short and sweet fic @sorryimananti-romantic helped prod me to write

you know that you are probably shaving a couple months off your lifespan each time you work a night shift at the bubble tea shop and subsequently fuck up your entire sleep routine for the next couple of days, but it gives you a bit of extra money, there are hardly any customers, and it is quiet enough that you can squeeze in some studying at the same time.

the shop probably averages about two couples and a few odd individuals here and there per night. why a small business would even decide to stay open during ghost hours in the first place, likely making negative profit, you have no idea. but you digress–you are just here to bum around for money.

so when your average customer number suddenly spikes not just by one, two or three people, but by an entire group of eight, it is safe to say you are more than confused. they are obviously your age because you can recognise the school crest embroidered onto the front pocket of their uniform shirts; it is one of the nearby high schools in the area. except, that is where the similarity ends.

only half of them are wearing their uniform, and even then they layer it unbuttoned over bold statement t-shirts like it is a mere accessory. the others wear black tracksuits and there is not a single pair of proper school shoes to be seen. your eyes cannot help but scan their pierced ears and obviously-styled hairstyles–you are pretty sure the shortest boy has dyed his hair a lighter shade of brown too.

it is hard to take your attention off of him as he takes one last drag of the cigarette in his hand, lazily blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth before he flicks the butt onto the floor outside and steps in through the door along with the others. you idly wonder how he got his hands on a fake id to purchase cigarettes in the first place, but at least he is polite about not smoking inside your store.

the group saunters up and you startle slightly as the boy at the front slaps his hand against the counter with the matching confidence to his glorified 6 foot height to demand, “give me a double shot of espresso.” he pulls away his hand to reveal a mismatched assortment of sad coins and crumpled notes.

“we, uh–” you glance not so subtly at the wall-sized menu behind you and the LED lighting decor sprawled across the other three walls with the phrases, ‘you’re a cu-tea’, ‘you’re pearl-fect’, and ‘you’re my bo-bae’, and wonder what gave these boys the impression they could order coffee. “we don’t sell coffee,” you state.

he does not seem fazed by your words at all. “can’t you just, like, charge me for your most expensive drink and make me a coffee?” he asks his absurd question with practiced ease, which makes you think that this is not his first rodeo.

unfortunately for him though, you deadpan, “i physically can’t. we don’t have a coffee machine.”

the boy’s expression finally cracks a little and you can literally see the cogs slowing down to a stop inside his brain. “aw, fuck,” he swears, “this worked last time.”

one his friends shrugs callously and snickers, “what did i say, mingi. told you they wouldn’t have one.”

“shut up, jongho,” he gripes in response.

you gesture vaguely at the laminated menu on the counter beside the cash register. “would you like something else to drink?” you offer.

the tall boy–mingi–takes all but one look at the barrage of words before his eyes flicker back up towards you. “recommend something.”

“depends on what you’re feeling,” you hum your scripted question, pointing to the different sections of the menu. “do you want something fruity or milky?”

he looks constipated as he weighs the two options. “fruity?” he eventually settles, still sounding unsure. “what’s good?”

at the question, all of their eyes turn to look at you intently and you feel yourself wilting internally at the thought of explaining the drinks to a group of boys that look like outright delinquents, because if there is one downside to working here apart from the crippling health impacts, it is the loss of your dignity each time you have to say the stupid names of the drinks.

“well,” you clear your throat and steel yourself, “we’ve got the bubbly butterfly blues, a purple grape and blueberry fruit ade, or the mysterious mermaid magic, a mango and passionfruit green tea with rainbow pearls.” you forge on with your explanations despite the furrowed brows and open mouths of judgement on their faces, deciding to give them a recommendation for a milky drink too just in case. “the rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles is also pretty popular. it’s a strawberry milk tea with whipped cream, sprinkles and marshm–”

“i’ll take that one,” mingi interrupts, unable to stand the onslaught of words that make the world around him explode into pink glitter. he drops an additional crinkled note onto the counter for good measure and then strides away to take a seat at the table in the furthest corner of the store to wait for his cutesy drink.

half a snort escapes the back of your throat at the sight. mingi may as well hold a megaphone to his mouth and shout “i am a manly man!” to make himself feel better. what an idiot.

you shift your attention to the rest of the group. “anything i can get for you guys?” you ask.

“fuck it, why not,” the one who had been smoking shrugs immediately. “get me the same thing he’s getting.”

most of the others pass and step away to join mingi at the table as you sort out the payment for delinquent number two’s cutesy drink. when you close the cash register–you are tempted to ask them why they have so many loose coins–the last two of the boys sidle up to the other side of the counter, peering down carefully at the menu.

you frown.

these two are actually wearing their uniform properly, only the first buttons of their shirt undone, no brightly-coloured tee peeking out from underneath, ties still around their neck and shirts tucked into their pants. they are even wearing their name tags; kang yeosang and park seonghwa. also, apart from the fact that the two appear prim and proper enough to be part of the student council, they are also very pretty.

said two look up at you, catch the frown across your face, fumble a little, then give you a small smile as a peace offering. “hi,” seonghwa greets softly, “can we get two regular pearl milk teas, please? thank you.”

you physically recoil.

“blink twice if you’re being threatened,” you blurt out, the words tumbling unwisely out of your mouth before you can stop them and definitely loud enough that all eight of the boys can hear you.

blink twice seonghwa and yeosang do, but not as a confirmation that the stark difference in their appearance and demeanour to the others is a sign they are being bullied into hanging out. they blink to ask–very respectfully–what the fuck you are on about.

they blink at you. you blink at them. the other boys blink at the three of you.

“sure thing!” you vocally sweep your own words under the rug. “two regular pearl milk teas coming right up!”

you swipe yeosang’s payment out of his hands–notes and coins carefully counted out to the exact amount–and punch the number into the cashier before swiftly turning your back to them to make their drinks. if you ignore something hard enough then it never happened. and it works, because they retreat to join the rest of their friends at the furthest table without further comment.

it does not take long to make all four of their drinks, but you do take a few extra minutes to carefully swirl the whipped cream on top of the strawberry milk tea orders and artistically shower them with sprinkles and marshmallows. you want to make them as cute as you fucking possibly can just for mingi.

“two rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles and two regular pearl milk teas,” you call out.

they all stand up, likely ready to leave once they grab their drinks. mingi leads the group with his long strides and he picks up his drink with one hand. he holds it up to eye level to study it like an unknown specimen and the moment he picks it up, one of his friends–you think you overheard the others call him wooyoung–cannot help but blurt out with distaste, “that shit looks sweet as fuck.”

mingi holds his drink closer to his body with a light glare because hey, it does look sweet as fuck but it also actually looks really good. and kind of cute, he will admit. he takes a tentative sip through the straw then a small lick of the whipped cream on top, the scattered toppings simultaneously crunching and melting in his mouth to spread sweet diabetes across his tongue.

it tastes like drugs in sugar form.

and it must show on his face because the tallest of his friends leans over to do the same, taking a sip from the same straw and a lick of the whipped cream from the other side, only far more generous and daring than the drink’s owner.

“bro,” comes the tall boy’s immediate reaction, “i’d get one of these every day.”

wooyoung suddenly looks less dubious and asks, curiosity now piqued, “give me a sip of that rainbow shit.”

“no,” mingi instantly responds, still keeping his drink close to his body and literally turning away to keep it protected and out of wooyoung’s reach. “you insulted my drink. get your own.”

the latter whines and you physically jerk backwards for the second time that night at their complete disregard for following stereotypical delinquent traits. you are starting to think that they are not delinquents so much as delinquent-wannabes and they seem increasingly harmless the more they simply exist.

“hongjoong,” wooyoung suddenly sings out, appearing to change targets to his other friend who had ordered the same drink. he is determined to try a sip tonight without having to spend his own money, but alas–

hongjoong flips him off and cradles his drink out of sight too. “you insulted my drink by extension.”

–determination can only get him so far.

this time, you cannot help the proper snort of amusement that leaves your mouth. you dare to hold your gaze with a lightly teasing lilt of your lips when wooyoung whips his head around with narrowed eyes. the boy cogs turn in his head as he deduces how far he can push the boundaries with you and he must come to some sort of conclusion that you are a newfound stranger-friend because he jokes with a straight face, “i’ll rob you.”

“sure,” you answer easily, tapping in a fake order onto the register’s screen to eject the cash drawer with a comedic ding! emphasising your words.

a few of them guffaw and wooyoung’s expression lights up to actually reach over the counter to help himself to a ten dollar bill. that is, until his hand is slapped away by somebody else with quite possibly the most perfect eyebrows you have ever seen. and no. you are most definitely not jealous.

“i’ll pay for your drink,” the friend chides, digging into his back pocket to fish out his wallet.

seonghwa shakes his head and advises, “don’t enable him, san,” at the same time that wooyoung brattily decides, “nah, don’t want one.”

“god, that’s it,” jongho mutters, starting to usher the group away from the counter towards the direction of the doors. “we’re leaving. mingi’s waiting outside already.”

they let themselves be herded and a few of them even turn to wave goodbye to you at the doors, cheerfully leaving behind the words ‘we’ll be back!’ in their wake as they exit the shop. your hand remains suspended in the air mid-wave even after they have disappeared and you blink blankly at the bizarreness of your entire encounter with the group of boys.

you do not know if they truly mean it when they say they will be back, but you do know one thing; you kind of hope that they do.

“can i get that thing i got last week.”

the tone of mingi’s voice ends his sentence more like it is a demand than it is a question, but the nuance of his words is still a request and already an improvement in comparison to your first encounter with him. if you are completely honest, you are also somewhat happy to see him and the others come back, so you will take the wins where you can. baby steps.

“which one?” you clarify. “i don’t remember.”

you do remember because their group of eight is pretty hard to forget, and they are some of the only customers you ever get. plus, you have made it somewhat of a personal challenge to hear mingi say something as stupid as ‘rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles’, which means that you are going to pretend for as long as you need to.

he scratches the side of his neck. “y’know, that drink you said is good.”

“we have a couple of those. was it the, uh, mysterious mermaid magic?” your head tilts with exaggerated thoughtfulness and from behind mingi, hongjoong and wooyoung cackle while the others look on with smirks, having caught on to exactly what you are doing.

“no, the rainbow unic…” he mumbles, voice growing increasingly softer with each syllable until his mouth is simply opening and closing.

you look at him with faux apologeticness and furrow your brows, “sorry? i didn’t quite catch that.”

“say it louder, dude,” his tall friend nudges him playfully. you are going to need to find out his name somehow because his is the only one you have yet to figure out, and you have a feeling you and him would get along real good.

“the rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles,” mingi finally gets out. if he were a cartoon character, you would see the rising colour of bright red creep up from under his uniform to the tip of his ears and then to the very roots of his hair.

god forbid a manly man purchase a cutesy pick-me-up drink on a friday night.

you smile brightly and use your cheeriest customer service voice to announce, “one rainbow unicorn fairy sparkles for princess mingi coming right up.”

the boy in front of you is flattered to learn that you know and remember his name but is also twice as horrified by the nickname you have crowned him with. his brain short circuits and his eyes widen at you in panicked masculinity and he shoves his payment across the counter before retreating to the same table in the corner of the store where seonghwa is already seated. if you look closely enough, there is a little wisp of smoke coming out from the top of mingi’s head too as he malfunctions. heh.

the boy whose name you still do not know comes up to the counter next. he jerks his head backwards in the direction of mingi and orders, “could i get the same? that rainbow fairy sparkling unicorn or whatever.” the name is wrong but he gets an a+ for trying so you do not correct him, simply nodding and putting his order into the cash register instead.

then you ask for your own personal gain, “can i get a name for your drink?”

he does not appear to question your intentions nor realise he is the only one you have asked because he is too occupied grinning widely at you, unable to curb his cheeky excitement at the thought of what he is about to say. “yeah, peter parker,” comes his proud answer, quite literally naming his drink.

and that is how you find out that he has the best (read: worst) humour out of all of the boys.

it is frankly right up your alley but you refuse to let him one-up you. instead, you use it to your advantage. you nod, “p.p. for short,” dragging the abbreviated initials out for longer so that it sounds intentionally crude.

“peepee,” wooyoung repeats with unrestrained laughter, high-pitched shrieking that sets off the others as well.

and that is also how you find out that wooyoung has the easiest funny bone to tickle out of all the boys.

p.p.’s eyes glint with delight at the fact that you can both take and dish out your own freak. he leans against the countertop on his elbow, which is a sight to behold with how far he has to stoop down because of his height, and exposes you with no qualms, “it’s yunho, by the way, since you wanted to know my name so badly.” he adds a flirty wink for good measure as his friends ooh like the true teenage boys that they are.

you mirror his mannerisms and bat your eyelashes at him to say, “okay, whatever you say, peepee.”

hongjoong intervenes and shoves yunho aside before the latter can fall in love with you and your wack-ass humour or something. he shoos him away, “go sit at the table,” as if he is sending the taller into the naughty corner.

yunho concedes with his hands raised in mock surrender, walking backwards as he reassures his friend, “don’t worry. you won’t hear a peep-ee out of me.”

your facade cracks and you let out a laugh, which only grows louder when jongho takes the liberty to grab a wrapped straw from the container on your countertop to peg it at yunho’s face. it bounces perfectly off the middle of his forehead and lands on the floor, where seonghwa–bless him–bends down to pick it up. you think he might just be your favourite.

“didn’t know you were into that kind of humour,” hongjoong notes with a tone of amusement.

“oh, there’s a lot about me that you don’t know,” you respond, a hint of flirtatiousness in your words.

fuck being professional. these boys would probably be the last people on earth to ever report you for something like a coquettish comment, and god forbid you want to flirt with a couple of really hot guys. the image of hongjoong taking a lazy drag from his cigarette burns at the forefront of your mind as he stares intently into your eyes, and his seeming nonchalance to his own charm only makes him that much more attractive.

he raises an eyebrow, “is that a challenge?”

“only if you’re up for it,” you respond coyly.

san coughs and interrupts, “not to be a cockblock, but can you flirt after we order our drinks.”

the boy in front of you rolls his eyes, pairing it with a loving middle finger at his friend. however, he moves over anyway, half mumbling that he is not going to get a drink. his spot at the counter is immediately snagged by san who mimics yunho’s earlier pose leaning against the surface. “so,” he gives you an overly-smouldering gaze, “tell me something about yourself that i don’t know.”

a bubble of mirth rises from out of your chest and san drops the act utterly pleased with himself. you humour him, though only partially, by revealing, “the desserts here are actually really good. i love the cookies.”

“which one’s your favourite?”

you point to one of the cookies in the second row of the display counter. “the biscoff and peanut butter fudge.”

one of his beautiful brows raises upwards as if to ask why the cookie name is so normal. you give him a miniscule shrug. beats me. he shakes his head with a slight chuckle then requests, “i’ll have one of each cookie and one of each donut that you’ve got.” your eyes bug out of your head because that is a fuckton of cookies and donuts, but san reassures you they all have caves for stomachs.

you get started on their drinks then slide the glass doors open to pull their desserts out, only to realise that yeosang has lingered close by to watch you. he is not wearing his uniform today, instead in a tracksuit like the others but in white. he looks good in that colour and you tell him such, “your tracksuit looks good.”

“thanks,” he replies easily, “wooyoung shoplifted it for me.”

your jaw drops at his sudden confession, too taken aback to appropriately school your expression in time even if you should not really be too surprised by their shenanigans. at your obvious stupor, yeosang’s stoic face breaks immediately and he reveals, “just kidding, hehe.” despite his joke, he blushes to the very tip of his ears like rudolph but elf style and rushes away.

you are left dumbfounded in a good way. one day, you are going to teach yeosang a thing or two about confidence because his uncanny ability to keep a straight face whilst saying the most out-of-left-field thing when it is least expected then leaving the other person wondering whether he is being genuine or only joking is top-tier humour–he just needs to learn how to own it.

you are also left wondering whether there is a single sane soul in this friendship group. you still hold some hope for seonghwa and maybe san, but who knows.

when their drinks and spread of desserts are ready, you expect them all to leave like they did last week. except this time they drag two circular tables closer together in the far corner of the store that they seem hellbent on claiming as their spot, where they then lay out all of the desserts across the joint surface. you watch from behind the counter. there is both a sense of systematic order and chaotic mess to the way they take a bite out of a cookie or donut, nod enthusiastically at how good it tastes whilst shoving it into the face of somebody else, who will in turn take a bite and join in on the enthusiastic nodding and moan an affirmative that it is good.

“wait, this donut is fucking fire,” you hear, and, “this cookie is The Shit, bro.”

they are sort of really fucking cute; boys you would expect to see loitering in alleyways with cigs in their mouths and sneaking into clubs with fakes to pop pills, instead sitting hunched over on cute plastic stools around rickety circular tables sharing sweet desserts like they are at a tea party.

wooyoung catches your gaze over the top of jongho’s head and he gets up instantly to drag you out from behind your counter. all of your warbled protests go unheard as he pulls you by one of your loose apron ties–his strangely endearing way of being respectful not to actually touch you–towards their tables whilst refuting, “there’s nobody else in here but us.”

that is how you find yourself squashed between seonghwa and jongho, your shoulders and thighs touching from close proximity.

“try this blueberry lemon cookie,” seonghwa offers from beside you the moment you sit down, extending the treat for you to take a bite from.

mingi so helpfully reminds, “she literally works here.”

seonghwa shushes him, “yeah, but she probably hasn’t tried everything on the menu.”

he is not wrong. you may have the appetite, but you do not have the physical stomach to try an entire serving of each dessert available in the shop, even if you were to try one per shift. now that the opportunity has handed itself to you on a silver platter, you are not going to refuse. plus, you do not think that you could ever bring yourself to say no when seonghwa is holding the cookie out with both hands so eagerly.

he is definitely your favourite.

you take a tentative bite out of the cookie and eight pairs of shiny eyes do not leave yours until you give them an affirmative and enthusiastic nod at its taste. all flurry of activity starts up again as they continue to trade desserts with those sitting beside them and across the circle. it feels like you are suddenly back in primary school, sharing your snacks out of your lunch box and trading sandwiches with your friends. they include you easily in both taste-testing and conversation, filling your usually quiet shift with antics and laughter.

it has always been a perk that you do not get many customers, but now more so than ever, you hope that nobody comes in for the remainder of your shift–or at the very least, not until the boys leave. in just two meetings, they have all grown on you in their own ways and you kind of want this to become a regular thing. you could definitely get used to this.

despite their appearances and rough-around-the-edges personalities, they are really just a bunch of boys living their life to the fullest in the diabetic form of bubble tea, loaded cookies and glazed donut runs in the middle of a random night.

and honestly? if you had a group of friends like them, you would too.

yunho’s eyes narrow fiercely at the couple who are walking along the footpath outside the perimeter of your shop, daring them to step in through the doors. his glare is not needed though–the very sight of what is going down inside is more than enough for their eyes to widen and for the man to hastily pull his girlfriend away.

“oh look, there goes another two potential customers,” hongjoong notes with sarcastic dismay. “i wonder why people are always in such a hurry to leave.”

yunho blinks his murderous intent away and faces you with round, innocent eyes as you roll your own and cross your arms. your insides wilt at the loss of potential revenue but only by a tad, because whatever business they boys scare off, they make up for several times over. you state as a matter-of-factly, “maybe it has something to do with jongho.”

said boy currently stands about three feet away from you, his arms raised and fists clenched threateningly as the rest of the boys surround the both of you in a circle of sorts as if they are about to witness a bloody fistfight. you suppose it does not look too far from the truth–you are about to get punched in the face.

jongho shrugs dismissively, “it’s not my fault other people aren’t interested in learning how to get knocked out by a sucker punch safely.”

“i don’t think any of those words should go together in a single sentence,” you tell him honestly, unimpressed.

“they normally don’t,” jongho’s mouth ticks up, “which is exactly why you’re learning.”

you cannot win against him or any of them. last week it had been learning how to pop a dislocated shoulder back into place, the week before it had been how to dislocate a shoulder, and then the week before that it had been how to reverse-jump a person if they were chasing you into an alleyway.

it has become an ingrained part of your weekly routine for the boys to rock up during your friday night shift, order half the menu, hang around for hours where you usually join them, then leave until the next week rolls around again. but these random tutorials have only just recently become a new routine within your pre-existing routine.

it all started when wooyoung snuck behind your counter one night while your back was turned to make their drinks and decided it would be hilarious to scream in your face as you turned around. you had jerked backwards so hard that you knocked over the entire stack of blender jars, which toppled over into the dirty sink one after the other like noisy dominoes. seonghwa had made wooyoung personally clean and stack them all again as punishment, but the damage had been done and hongjoong had declared that you would not survive in the real world if a little fright like that could make your butthole pucker right back up into your own intestinal system.

and so had begun your weekly crash courses on survival instincts because according to them, you had none. you had refused to submit to their antics at first, but then yeosang had pointed out, “it’s true. wooyoung was standing behind you like a creep for a full five minutes and you didn’t even notice.” san had also threatened that they would not order anything until you complied each week.

“that’s not fair,” you had complained petulantly. “i just won’t serve you guys at all then.”

san had given you a cheshire grin. “you wouldn’t. we’re like, eighty percent of the total revenue you make during your shift.”

that shuts you up real quick and san knows, so you have no choice but to give in to whatever tomfoolery they choose to teach you for that week. if it is learning to ‘get knocked out by a sucker punch safely’, then so be it.

“okay, i’m all set to be punched in the future,” you declare dryly as jongho reigns in his fist after a pretend swing at your temple, “are you guys going to order now?”

hongjoong nods like he is the little leader of this delinquent gang, but jokes on him because they follow behind you to gather in front of the counter in a single file of sorts with practiced ease, an endearingly crooked line of ducklings. you know right off the bat that it means they already know what they want to order because other times they will come together as pairs or even triplets so that they can umm and ahh over the menu together.

you do not think you can ever take them seriously as proper delinquents–if they even count as such.

as if to prove your point even further, mingi throws up double gang signs and makes a poor attempt to rap, “i want an emineminem,” and when seonghwa not-so-subtly pinches his elbow, he adds on, “please.”

you bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing as your hands automatically move to input his order into the register, long past familiar with what his order truly means; mysterious mermaid magic, because the alliteration of the name ‘m and m and m’ sounds the same as the rapper’s name twice. go figure. you do not know if ‘emineminem’ is worse, or, as san calls it whilst flexing his biceps, ‘the merman’.

the boys have a shockingly terrible incapacity to remember the names on the menu correctly, but it is also partially due to the fact that they could give less than zero fucks about them. they will either say what they think the name is, or what they think the name should be.

they make the rules. you simply follow.

the first time it happened was during their third time at the store. “yo, give me a triple b,” jongho had confidently ordered.

“a fuckin’ what?” you were positive you were having a stroke.

“a triple b,” he had tried again, frowning at how you did not automatically understand him. “the big butterfly bus or somethin’.”

you could not take him seriously. “big butterfly bus? what are they gonna do after hopping on? go to fucking school?” you had jested. “also, you can’t just make up your own name and expect me to–you know what, sure.”

it sort of becomes a game. you will roll over in your grave before admitting it, but it is sort of fun to hear an absolutely rubbish string of words–or letters–come out of their mouths for you to then follow their ridiculous train of thought backwards to work out what the actual drink is. the silly boys with their silly names kind of grow on you.

and you may or may not indulge them a little too much. they are the first to try any new items on the menu, even when they are still technically not meant to be available to the general public. but when they pounce on whatever you present to them on the table like puppies and fresh kibble, it is very hard not to keep doing so. which is exactly why you bring out the batch of cupcakes you had made earlier specifically for them to taste.

they look like normal vanilla-frosted cupcakes, except when you bite into them, there is a dark chocolate cookie inside the base. it is the perfect mix of soft and chewy, and when the gooeyness is maximised by slightly warming the dessert up, it is–

“fucking fire, bro,” yunho says around a mouthful, blatantly ignoring the dirty look that seonghwa shoots him for talking with food in his mouth.

yeosang inspects the cookie at the core. “have you named it yet?”

you do not get a say in what the menu items are named and they always do in fact already have a name by the time the boys get to try them. regardless, you answer, “not yet,” because they love the power trip they get when they have creative liberty over your store’s products.

“i have an idea,” wooyoung pipes up immediately. “the frosted ultimate cookie cupcake.” then in a falsetto voice, he role-plays by himself, “hi, could i get a fucc please?”

mingi snorts himself silly and continues, “actually, could you give me two fucks?”

you oblige, “fuck you, and double fuck you,” flashing your middle finger at wooyoung first then mingi second to punctuate the fucks you are gifting them.

the boys snicker at your crudeness, absolutely delighted. not the type to let any opportunity to swear go by, the rest of them join in as san yanks you down to sit at the table with them before you can roll your eyes and walk away.

and out of all moments, it is this exact moment, when you are surrounded by the eight of them throwing out colourful words left and right with the giddy enthusiasm of toddlers, each holding a half-eaten vanilla-frosted cookie cupcake in their hands, that you realise you may actually give a few too many fucks about them…and not just in a friendly way.

well. fuck.

when you get a call on friday morning from your branch manager the following week, your immediate thought is that somebody finally chanced upon watching the store’s security footage and you have been caught making friends with delinquent customers and literally feeding them with business secrets. except when you pick up and tentatively greet him, he starts to say something that is arguably just as bad.

“i need you to swap shifts with gayoung. she can’t work this tuesday night so i need you to cover that day ‘cause there’s nobody else available,” he informs. “gayoung will cover your shift tonight instead.”

you are still trying to process his words as you repeat, “tonight?”

“yes, so you won’t need to go into work tonight.”

your heart skips a beat. for the first time in your life, you find yourself asking, “can’t i take both shifts?”

“no, you can’t. sorry,” your manager apologises but he does not sound sorry at all.

you have never voluntarily taken up extra night shifts, much less asked to take up additional shifts. yet, there is a heavy sense of disappointment that simultaneously settles itself deep inside your stomach and lodges itself in your throat, because it is friday today and friday night is for your boys. you do not even have a way of letting them know that you will not be in tonight.

you wonder if they will notice your absence and whether they will care. after all, you may just be somebody who happens to work at the bubble tea shop they frequent. but it turns out that they do and turns out you are not.

“where were you?”

those are the first words that are thrown at you the moment the boys walk through the door during your friday shift the week after you swapped nights with gayoung. they stomp up to your counter sporting furrowed brows and pressed lips, and if it were not for seonghwa’s soft smile and warm, “we missed seeing you,” you would have thought that they were angry at you.

you can only imagine how terrifying their demeanours would be if they were actually to be angry.

“my manager made me swap shifts with another coworker,” you explain and their expressions soften immediately.

jongho breaks out into a triumphant smirk as he turns to hongjoong with an upturned palm. “i told you. pay up.”

the latter sheepishly pulls out some crumpled notes as you gawk, “you bet on why i wasn’t at work?”

“don’t mind them,” wooyoung waves his hand dismissively. “hongjoong has trust issues–said that you were avoiding us.”

“i would never!” you refute at the same time that hongjoong exclaims, “i did not!”

“either way, fuck your manager. the fucking audacity to take you off our shift?” wooyoung complains.

you try to keep a straight face at the fact that wooyoung has just very casually claimed your shift–and by extension, you–as theirs. you babble the first thing that comes to mind, “the drinks are all made using the same recipe. it doesn’t matter who makes them.”

yunho’s eyes narrow with offense that you would even suggest a thing. “it’s nowhere near the same.” he is not the only one who wants to tell you that as long as it is not you it will never be the same.

their collective thoughts come out instead through mingi, “nobody understands when we order a triple b or an emineminem or a ‘horse drink’.”

“yeah, no shit sherlock,” you fire back, because apparently sarcasm is your automatic defense mechanism when you are flustered, “might help if you call them by their proper names.”

“or maybe the problem is that nobody knows us well enough like you do,” san insists with a wink and in response, yeosang reveals, “we don’t let just anybody get close to us.”

you joke before you can truly think your words through, “sounds like a you problem then.”

“you’re right,” hongjoong banters easily with smugness.

your nervous fidgeting as you tap useless buttons on the screen of your register gives you away despite your attempts to stay collected. they chuckle and it is difficult not to crumble under their unwavering gazes because it is obvious they can see right through your facade. but can anybody really blame you when you had not been expecting them to reciprocate your feelings of interest, much less admit to it so easily and straightforwardly?

in a last ditch attempt to regain some control over the conversation, you ask, “so, what do you guys want to order?”

from day one, the boys have surprised you in the most unpredictable ways–eight not-quite-delinquent delinquents with simultaneously calloused fists, pottied mouths and insatiable sweet tooth. today is no exception, and you have a feeling that you should start becoming accustomed to their antics because they are here to stay, especially after today.

“what we want to order?” they look at you with confident flirtatiousness. “your phone number and a date.”

taglist pt. one | apply for taglist

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[edenesth]

5 Steps to Losing to You

Pairing: student council president!Yunho x vice president!fem!reader

AU: high school au (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary: The student council president of KQ High had five simple steps to surviving his vice president: outshine you, outsmart you, outlast you, annoy you, and — definitely — never fall for you. Too bad every step brought him closer to late-night arguments, unexpected truths, and one unforgettable confession under the fireworks. Somewhere between enemies and uneasy allies, Yunho took five steps too far — and ended up losing (his heart) to you.

Genre: romance (duh), comedy

A/N: Thank you, @itstheghostofmypast, for giving me the urge to write another high school AU. This one's heavily inspired by one of my favourite animes of all time, Kaguya-sama: Love Is War.

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Do you ever meet someone for the very first time, and somehow, without a single word exchanged, you just know — from the very core of your being — that you can't stand them? No logical reason. No past history. Just pure, gut-level irritation.

That was exactly how Jung Yunho felt the second you stepped into the student council room, your posture straight, your expression unreadable, exuding the kind of effortless confidence that set his teeth on edge.

You were the new transfer student — the one the teachers haven't been able to stop raving about, the one who somehow landed the coveted vice president title before even learning the school layout. And now, here you were, standing beside him, the council's golden boy, as if you belonged there.

"Dude, that's her? Oh, they weren't lying when they said she'd be eye candy," Wooyoung, the council treasurer, whispered with a smirk, elbowing Yunho's side. Yunho didn't even glance at you. He just scoffed, nudging Wooyoung back hard enough to make him stumble. "Yeah? Well, too bad a pretty face isn't enough to survive my council. I give her two weeks before she runs back to wherever she came from."

He said it loud enough for you to hear — on purpose — just to see if you'd flinch. But you didn't. You only lifted your chin slightly, eyes flicking toward him for a single, scathing second. And in that moment, you hated him just as much as he hated you.

Because from the moment you locked eyes, you knew exactly who he was — the adored, untouchable president who had everyone wrapped around his finger. The boy who carried himself like the school was his kingdom, and every student his subject. And now you were supposed to serve under him?

Absolutely not.

You hadn't transferred here to play second to anyone — least of all some arrogant, overhyped, self-proclaimed king. Back at your old school, you were always at the top: top grades, top leadership positions, top of every ranking that mattered. You weren't just a vice president — you were a future president in the making.

If Yunho thought you were here to play a supporting role in his perfect little reign, he was dead wrong.

You weren't here to make friends.

You were here to take his crown.

────

Yunho leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he watched you skim through the thick binder of council documents that Seulgi, the council secretary, had just handed over. His eyes narrowed slightly, studying you like you were some kind of unwelcome intruder trespassing on his territory.

"Hope you're not too overwhelmed," Yunho said, voice dripping with fake concern. "Student council here isn't exactly… beginner-friendly."

You didn't bother looking up, flipping another page instead. "Don't worry, President," you replied, tone sweet but sharp. "I've dealt with more organised councils before. This is nothing I can't fix."

The room went still for half a second — just enough for Seulgi to glance between you both like she was watching a fuse being lit.

Yunho's smile sharpened. "Fix? That's a bold word for someone who hasn't even seen our term plan yet."

You finally met his gaze, leaning forward just slightly over the table. "Oh, I've seen it. Last year's records were so charming, especially the part where half the events went over budget and the spring festival had a typo on the banner. Spring Festivel, was it?"

The muscle in his jaw twitched, but his grin didn't falter. "Funny. You talk big for someone who just transferred here. But I get it — new girl syndrome. All ambition, no clue how things actually work."

You rested your chin in your hand, elbow propped on the table. "And you talk big for someone who's clearly too comfortable sitting on his throne. Guess we'll see who adjusts faster — me to this school, or you to having actual competition."

The president's smile froze in place. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was being challenged — especially not by someone who hadn't even been here a full week.

Seulgi cleared her throat awkwardly. "So! Uh, why don't we go over this semester's goals together? You know… as a team?"

You and Yunho didn't break eye contact. Neither of you smiled.

"Can't wait," you said.

"Neither can I," he replied.

And like that, the war had officially begun.

────

To the outside world — to teachers, students, and anyone not trapped in this cursed room — Yunho and you were the dream team, the picture-perfect president and vice president duo. Smiling side by side during assemblies, coordinating in perfect sync during meetings, and even exchanging polite nods in the hallway.

But inside these four walls, away from the prying eyes of your adoring audience, it was an entirely different story.

It started small. The first time Yunho reached for the meeting agenda, it was mysteriously missing from his file. "Alright, let's get started with today's agenda—" he paused, flipping through his folder, only to find the neatly printed schedule gone. His eyes snapped up, narrowing instantly at you.

You sat across from him, filing your nails with deliberate slowness, not even trying to hide your smug smile when he had to wing the entire meeting from memory. "Looking for something, President?" you asked sweetly.

Wooyoung watched the exchange from the corner, whispering to Seulgi, "That's the second time this week. If this keeps up, he's gonna staple the agenda to his forehead."

The secretary sighed, already immune to the madness. "At least they're creative."

Then there was the presentation. Monthly council update in front of all the teachers, a perfect opportunity for the president to shine — until Yunho confidently clicked to the next slide… and instead of student council statistics, the screen flashed an embarrassingly tragic childhood photo of him mid-sneeze, teeth crooked, hair tragic.

Gasps filled the room. His eye twitched. From beside him, you covered your mouth, the picture of shocked concern, while under the table, your finger rested innocently on the laptop's trackpad.

"Oops," you whispered sweetly.

"You're dead," Yunho mouthed back.

The teachers would later praise your teamwork for handling the "technical difficulty" so gracefully.

The coffee war escalated next. Yunho, ever the gentleman, brought you coffee before morning meetings — extra bitter because he knew you hated it with a passion. You retaliated the next day, handing him a cup that smelled amazing but was actually salted beyond salvation.

Wooyoung took a cautious sip from his own drink, eyeing both of you. "This is why I only drink from the vending machine now."

"Smart," Seulgi muttered.

When it came time to make festival posters, the battle turned artistic. The school festival posters were a joint project — one half handled by you, the other by the president. What should have been a cohesive design turned into visual warfare.

Yunho's side was classic and professional, clean fonts and crisp colours. Your side? Bold, flashy, practically neon — and just slightly crooked, making his side look off-balance.

"It's like watching a couple divorce through graphic design," Wooyoung whispered.

"Except they were never married," Seulgi muttered. "Thank god."

The final straw — at least for that week — came during the morning announcements, when the president confidently read out the list of upcoming events — only to realise someone had swapped his script. Instead of the council's official calendar, he was now announcing a fake bake sale where Yunho himself would supposedly be dressing as a bunny mascot to promote sales.

His death glare found you through the broadcast window. You waved back cheerfully.

The students roared with excitement. "Bunnyho!" they chanted.

Seulgi buried her face in her hands. Wooyoung filmed everything.

And yet, the moment those council doors swung open, you both snapped back into your roles like pros. Smiling in sync at the cameras, cutting ribbons together with practised grace, even finishing each other's sentences when teachers asked about the upcoming festival. It was a performance so convincing that even Wooyoung — who knew the truth — found himself applauding.

"It's terrifying," the treasurer started, watching the two of you gracefully cut the ribbon at a new club opening ceremony. "They look like they actually… get along," he whispered, equal parts horrified and impressed.

"Tell me about it. They're scarily good at this," Seulgi agreed, clapping along with the crowd. "It's like they're starring in a romcom where only they missed the memo."

If only they knew.

If only the rest of the school knew.

If only anyone knew that beneath all the staged smiles and synchronised speeches, it would only take five steps for the mighty president and his infuriating vice president to lose — not to each other, but to something neither of them ever saw coming.

────

Step One: seeing each other.

It started like any other day in the student council room — a battleground polished to perfection.

You arrived first, flipping open your notebook, already plotting your next move. Yunho followed shortly after, shooting you a glare so subtle no one else would notice, but you caught it. You always did. The latest round in your ongoing war had been yours — you'd managed to replace his entire project folder with a stack of fake documents detailing a made-up proposal for a "Student Council Talent Show," featuring him as both host and performer. He'd spent an hour in front of the principal before realising the whole thing was a setup. You were winning.

So when Yunho swept into the room, you were already bracing for his retaliation. And sure enough, it came — a stack of freshly printed minutes from the last meeting placed squarely in front of you. Except every instance of your name had been replaced with "Her Royal Highness, The Vice President of Perfection".

You stared at it. He smiled, all teeth and zero remorse.

"Thanks for the edit," you said coolly.

"Anything for my vice president," he shot back.

But that wasn't the real blow. The real sabotage came during the club funding review later that afternoon. It was your turn to present the approved budgets for each club, a dry, boring task — until Yunho, in a voice far too innocent, asked, "By the way, Your Highness — didn't your old school have a fencing club? You were captain, right?"

You froze for half a second. It was microscopic — no one noticed. Except for Yunho. Of course, he noticed.

"Yeah," you said, flicking through the papers like the question meant nothing. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing. Just wondering why you transferred out so suddenly. From what I hear, you were practically royalty back there, too."

You knew what he was doing. Fishing. Trying to unearth whatever dirt might be hiding under your perfect exterior. You forced a smile. "It was boring," you lied. "Needed a challenge."

He hummed, unconvinced.

Later that evening, you found your chance to return the favour. You'd overheard a conversation between Wooyoung and Seulgi, something about Yunho always leaving in a rush after school, barely staying long enough to clean up. So you set a trap — a simple one. You "accidentally" scheduled a last-minute meeting that ran late, forcing him to stay behind.

You expected him to blow up at you afterwards. You were ready for it. What you didn't expect was to follow the tall and lanky boy out — purely out of curiosity — only to watch him walk straight to the convenience store down the street, throw on a part-time apron, and start restocking shelves.

You stood outside, stunned, watching the golden boy student council president clock into a job like any regular kid. Except he wasn't just any regular kid, was he?

For the first time, you saw him without the shine — no polished uniform, no cocky smirk, no sharp words ready to fire at you. Just a boy with his sleeves pushed up, quietly stacking instant noodles, stopping every so often to check his phone like he was waiting for a message.

And when his phone finally buzzed, you saw him smile — small, tired, real.

You didn't mean to see the text, but you did.

Mum: Yunho-yah, don't forget to bring home eggs if they're on sale.

You stepped back before he could notice you watching, heart thudding with something you couldn't quite name.

That was the first crack.

The next day, Yunho found a neatly folded discount coupon for eggs tucked into his student council folder. No signature. No note. Just a coupon.

He stared at it for a long time.

For once, neither of you said anything.

But it didn't end there.

Later that week, Yunho caught sight of you outside the school gates, long after the council room had emptied. He hadn't meant to linger — in fact, he had every intention of ignoring you like usual — but something about the way you stood there caught his attention.

You weren't scrolling through your phone or chatting with anyone. You just stood there, posture straight, hands clutching your bag like it was the only thing keeping you upright. A sleek black car pulled up, polished until the surface gleamed, and a middle-aged man in a pressed suit stepped out to open the door for you.

He scoffed quietly to himself. Of course.

Princess treatment. Figures.

But as you slid into the back seat, something about the way you moved made him pause. Stiff. Formal. Like you were stepping into a stranger's car, not your own. He caught a glimpse of your face through the tinted window before it rolled up — your gaze fixed straight ahead, unfocused, mouth pressed into a thin line. You looked... distant. Detached.

Not proud. Not smug.

Not like someone who had it all.

Just... tired.

Yunho frowned, stuffing his hands into his pockets, muttering under his breath, "Must be nice to have everything handed to you... so why do you look like you've got nothing?"

He didn't have an answer. And that unsettled him more than he wanted to admit.

That night, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the memory of your empty eyes lingering longer than they should.

Neither of you knew it yet — but the game was already changing.

────

Step Two: the unexpected rescue.

The rain came down hard — the kind of storm that soaked you to the bone in seconds, drumming against the pavement with no mercy. You stood just outside the school gates, shoulders hunched slightly under the awning, arms crossed tight as your phone buzzed non-stop in your hand.

Driver (5 missed calls)

Driver: Stuck in traffic. 15 minutes.

Driver: 20 minutes.

Driver: Sorry, Miss. It's a mess out here.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, locking your screen before shoving the phone into your pocket. This was typical — your family's staff was always prompt when it came to your father, but for you? Delays. Excuses. You were used to it. Didn't make it any less irritating.

The rain intensified, and you took a careful step back, just barely avoiding a splash from a passing car. That's when you saw him — Yunho, already halfway down the sidewalk, hood pulled up, backpack slung over one shoulder.

He could have kept walking. You expected him to. Hell, you would've preferred it.

But he stopped.

He stood there for a second, back still facing you, before you saw his shoulders rise and fall in what looked suspiciously like deep, begrudging contemplation. Then, without a word, he turned back, marched toward you, and thrust his umbrella out with one hand.

"Don't make it weird," he muttered, hood shadowing half his face. "I'm not leaving my vice president to drown. People would talk."

You stared at him, dumbfounded, before slowly stepping under the umbrella's cover. Your shoulder brushed his — just barely — but it was enough to make the air between you heavier than the rain itself.

"You're still an arrogant ass," you said, mostly out of habit.

"And you're still annoying," he shot back.

But neither of you moved away.

The walk to the nearby bus stop was silent, save for the rain pattering against the umbrella's canopy and your synchronised footsteps on the wet pavement. The silence should have been awkward — it always was between the two of you — but this time, it felt... almost easy.

At the stop, he held the umbrella steady over both your heads until the bus pulled up, wiping rainwater off his forehead with his sleeve.

"Don't think this means I like you," he said, voice quieter than usual.

You snorted, climbing up the bus steps. "Please. I'd be more worried if you did."

But when you found your seat by the window, you caught a glimpse of him outside — standing there in the rain, umbrella still in hand, watching the bus pull away. Neither of you knew why this moment stuck so firmly in your minds. You just knew something had shifted.

The next morning, you were absent.

Yunho should've been pleased. A day without your sharp tongue, your constant presence, your infuriating need to challenge his every decision — it should've felt like a vacation. But instead, an uncomfortable unease gnawed at him from the moment he entered the council room and saw your usual seat empty.

He shouldn't care. He knew that. But for some reason, his mind kept circling back to the night before — the rain, the bus, the fleeting glimpse of your tired face in the window.

Did you even get home safely?

He scowled at the thought. Not my problem. I already did more than enough. But no matter how much he tried to shake it off, that knot of regret just sat there in his chest, stubborn and unrelenting.

By mid-morning, his irritation boiled over. Slamming his pen down, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Where's Vice President Pain-in-the-Ass today?" he asked, tone far too casual to be casual.

Wooyoung's eyebrows shot up — before a slow smirk stretched across his face. "Why? Miss her already? You two were so cute sharing that umbrella last night."

Yunho's chair scraped violently against the floor as he sat up straighter. "What?! Who said— That's not— I'm only asking because I was expecting her to submit the student committee reports today!"

"Suuure," Wooyoung drawled, dragging out the word until Yunho was ready to fling a stapler at his head.

Seulgi, ever the peacekeeper, stepped in with a sigh. "She called in sick. Probably caught a cold from getting drenched yesterday."

The president's stomach did an uncomfortable flip, though he masked it with a disinterested shrug. "Serves her right for not bringing her own umbrella," he muttered.

But later that night, during his shift at the convenience store, he nearly rang up a customer's items twice — his mind completely elsewhere. Each time the door chimed, he half-expected to see you storm in with some ridiculous complaint about student council policies. He hated the way that thought made his chest tighten.

He hated it even more when, the next morning, he found himself at his kitchen counter — brewing herbal tea.

When you returned to school the next day, you dropped your bag onto your desk, only to pause, brow furrowing. Sitting there, completely unassuming, was a flask of warm herbal tea. No note. No explanation.

You glanced around the empty room — only one other person was there this early, and of course, it was him. Yunho, head down, pretending to be engrossed in a report he had already read twice.

You nudged the flask aside and pulled out your notebook instead, determined not to play into whatever weird game this was.

Across the room, his pen froze mid-sentence. After a few beats of silence, he huffed, loud enough for you to hear.

"For heaven's sake, it's not poisoned," he said, still not looking up. "Drink it if you want to actually recover."

You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious — but curiosity (and the faint scratch in your throat) won out. You unscrewed the lid, steam rising in a gentle curl. It smelled... comforting. Soothing. Like something homemade.

Reluctantly, you took a sip.

"...It's good," you admitted quietly.

He didn't respond, but when you looked up, you caught him — just for a second — sneaking a glance at you over the top of his file.

Again, neither of you said another word.

────

Step Three: forced vulnerability.

For a while, it seemed like the umbrella incident and the flask of tea never happened. Whatever fleeting kindness had passed between you both was quickly swallowed by your usual dynamic — sharp words, constant one-upping, and a relentless need to prove the other wrong.

That fragile truce didn't stand a chance.

It all came to a head after yet another brutal fight — the kind that had papers flying across the table, voices raised loud enough to make the underclassmen passing by the council room door wince. Seulgi had to physically step between you, arms stretched out like a human barricade.

"You always have to hog the spotlight, don't you?" you seethed, finger jabbing toward Yunho. "President this, President that — it's like you can't function unless the whole school is watching you."

"And you're any better?" His voice came sharp and fast, eyes blazing. "You waltz in here acting like you're saving us all, like this council should be grateful to breathe the same air as you. Spoiled little princess who can't handle not being number one."

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Wooyoung, who usually lived for drama like this, suddenly found his folder of expense reports incredibly fascinating.

You stormed out before anyone could see the flicker of hurt flash across your face. No way were you going to let Jung Yunho of all people make you feel small.

You walked blindly down the hall, fury pulsing in your veins, until you froze at the sound of his voice — quieter, softer, so unlike the boy who had just ripped into you moments ago.

"…No, Mum, I can't cover that shift. I already stayed late for council." A pause. "It's fine, really. I'll figure it out."

The reminder hit you hard. Yunho, the golden boy, the president everyone envied — was working part-time jobs after school. The same boy who seemed to have it all was just another kid juggling too much, carrying more weight than he let on. You didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you couldn't move either. Something about the edge of exhaustion in his voice made you stay.

Suddenly, the arrogant bastard didn't seem so untouchable after all.

A few days later, the roles reversed.

Yunho had gone to the library to grab an old council binder when he spotted you tucked away at a corner table. You weren't working — just sitting there, blankly staring at an open textbook like the words weren't even registering.

Next to you, a small pile of letters lay scattered — some still sealed, others torn open, the papers inside slightly crumpled like you'd held them too tightly. He didn't need to read them to know what they were. Letters from parents who cared more about achievements than feelings, words dressed up as 'encouragement' but laced with disappointment underneath.

He hadn't meant to stop, but something about the way your shoulders curled inward — that tiny, defeated slump — made him pull out a chair across from you without a word. He opened his own notebook, flipping through pages like he had a reason to be there.

The silence stretched, but for once, it didn't feel awkward.

Eventually, Yunho broke it.

"Not everyone's parents show up for them either, huh?" he said quietly, still pretending to read.

Your head snapped up, startled by the unexpected understanding in his voice. But he didn't look at you. He just kept twirling his pen between his fingers, as if the words had been said casually — like it wasn't the first time either of you had ever acknowledged this shared emptiness.

You didn't answer, but you didn't push the letters away either.

And just like that, things further shifted.

For the first time, you both saw each other — not as rivals or enemies, but just two kids quietly drowning under the weight of expectations neither of you had asked for.

────

Step Four: defending each other.

It happened so fast, you didn't even have time to think.

You were passing by the courtyard on your way back to the council room when you heard them — two students sitting on the low wall, voices pitched just loud enough to be overheard.

"I heard she only got vice president because her family donated a new wing to the school."

"Yeah, everyone knows Yunho's the real deal. She's just there to smile and look pretty. Riding his coattails the whole way."

Your hands curled into fists, steps already veering toward them — but someone else got there first.

The sharp thud of a bag hitting the ground made the gossipers jolt upright. Yunho stood there, shoulders squared, eyes dark with something dangerously close to fury.

"Say that again," he said quietly — and somehow, the softness of his voice was far more terrifying than if he'd shouted.

The students stammered, scrambling for excuses, and he didn't even spare you a glance as he slung his bag back over his shoulder and walked off, leaving you standing there — stunned silent.

Because for all the times you had accused him of being full of himself, Jung Yunho had defended you like it was second nature. Like the idea of anyone else insulting you was unthinkable.

You didn't know what to do with that.

The universe, however, was nothing if not fair. Because just a few days later, the rumours shifted — this time, about Yunho.

"Did you hear? Student council president's working at some convenience store. Imagine seeing him behind the counter after school, bagging snacks for pocket change."

"Golden boy's not so golden after all."

The words grated against your ears so sharply, you were standing in front of them before you even realised you'd moved.

Arms crossed, chin lifted, you gave them a smile so sweet it made your words all the sharper. "Funny. I didn't realise students who can't even pass basic math had opinions anyone cared about."

The stunned silence that followed was delicious. You didn't wait for their response — just turned on your heel and walked off like they weren't even worth your time.

That should've been the end of it — except Yunho was waiting for you by the lockers later that afternoon, arms folded, gaze unreadable.

"I didn't ask you to defend me," he said, tone somewhere between exasperation and confusion.

"Yeah, well." You shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "Couldn't let my rival's reputation get dragged through the mud before I beat you fair and square."

He stared at you for a long moment — long enough that you felt heat creep up your neck. And then, to your utter disbelief, he smiled. Just a little.

"You're insane."

"You're welcome."

Neither of you admitted what was really happening here.

Neither of you wanted to.

Because rivals didn't protect each other like this — right?

…Right?

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

That's what you both told yourselves. Yunho stepping in when people ran their mouths about you? Just defending the council's reputation. You shutting down rumours about his part-time job? Basic professional courtesy. Nothing more.

Except it kept happening.

You noticed when he looked more tired than usual, dark circles smudged under his eyes like he hadn't slept a wink — and then you caught yourself caring. Which was ridiculous. You didn't care. You were just making sure the president didn't screw up his responsibilities because he couldn't handle his personal life. Right?

And Yunho? He wasn't watching out for you. No way. He just… happened to notice when you didn't eat lunch (because of course a spoiled princess would be picky), and maybe that's why he tossed a protein bar onto your desk without looking at you. Totally normal. Not thoughtful. Just practical.

The mental gymnastics you both performed to justify each and every concern were Olympic-level.

When you caught the president absently saving you the better seat during meetings, you told yourself he was just being tactical — easier for you to see the projector, of course. And when Yunho overheard you grumbling about forgetting your calculator before a math quiz, and then somehow one appeared on your desk five minutes later, you were definitely not touched. It was probably a spare he didn't need. Nothing more.

Wooyoung and Seulgi, meanwhile, were losing their minds — because the two of you were so deep in denial it was physically painful to watch.

"She just snapped at him for using the wrong pen colour for the event banners, then turned around and gave him the last slice of cake at the meeting," Seulgi whispered, wide-eyed.

"And he's been pretending to hate her handwriting, but I caught him saving one of her post-it notes in his folder," Wooyoung whispered back.

"Should we help?"

"Nah. Let them suffer."

Because to everyone else, it was painfully obvious: the two of you cared, far too much, and it was eating you both alive.

Neither of you could sleep without replaying your arguments, wondering if you'd crossed a line. Neither of you could look at the other without searching for signs — were they okay? Were they pushing too hard? Were they... thinking about you too?

Of course not.

You hated each other.

That's what you told yourselves.

That's what you needed to believe.

────

Step Five: the breaking point.

The final planning meeting for the year-end festival — the crown jewel of student council events — was supposed to be smooth sailing.

Supposed to be.

Instead, it turned into a sudden crisis and full-blown disaster. Miscommunications piled up like wreckage, schedules clashed, vendors were double-booked, and somehow, two essential permits vanished into thin air — all thanks to the endless assumptions of he'll handle it or she'll settle it.

In truth, the entire student council had been stretched too thin. With final year exams looming and everyone juggling revision sessions alongside festival planning, it was inevitable that details would slip through the cracks. Messages were missed, notes went unshared, and somewhere along the way, every member — even you and Yunho — had trusted that someone else would catch the mistakes.

No one did.

And now, with barely a week left until the biggest event of the year, it was all on the verge of collapse.

The council room was a war zone by the end of the day, with papers scattered across every surface, and half-eaten snacks abandoned next to rapidly-drained cups of instant coffee. The rest of the council had long since been sent home after nearly combusting from secondhand stress.

That left just the two of you — sworn enemies, or at least that's what you both kept telling yourselves — sitting across from each other in the wreckage, sleeves rolled up, hair undone, exhaustion written into every breath.

Somewhere between fixing the vendor placements and rewriting the schedule for the third time, you both cracked.

Laughter. Actual, delirious laughter. It started small — you snorted at something he mumbled under his breath, and he stared at you like you'd grown a second head before dissolving into laughter himself. The kind that made your stomach ache and your shoulders shake, the kind fueled by stress and sleep deprivation until it was impossible to stop.

"This is actual hell," you groaned, collapsing onto the table, cheek smushed against a poorly drawn map of the festival grounds.

"Yeah," he leaned back, arms hanging off the back of his chair, head tilted to stare at the ceiling. "But at least it's not boring."

You turned your head to look at him — hair sticking up in every direction, tie loosened, shirt wrinkled, sleeves unevenly rolled, and yet somehow still the same Yunho who drove you insane. Except, right now, he wasn't the 'golden boy president.' He was just… a boy. One who was just as tired, just as human.

"Yunho," you said softly, surprising even yourself. "Why do you hate me?"

His laughter faded. He didn't look at you right away — just exhaled long and slow, fingers tapping against the table.

"Because you make me feel like I'm not enough," he admitted, voice low, like a confession dragged straight from his chest. "And I hate feeling that way."

The honesty knocked the air from your lungs. Because it was exactly how you felt too — and you'd never meant for him to see you like that, just like you never thought you'd see him like this.

"I never wanted to hate you," you whispered, voice small. "I just wanted to beat you."

He finally turned his head, gaze meeting yours — and for the first time, there was no sharpness, no competition, no battle lines drawn between you. Just understanding.

And maybe, just maybe, something softer underneath. Something neither of you were ready to name.

"It's late. We should go," he murmured.

The air was cool, the sky stretched inky black above you, and the silence between you wasn't exactly uncomfortable — just unfamiliar. After months of snapping and snarling at each other, the absence of sharp words felt almost too quiet. Too fragile.

The two of you walked side by side down the empty street, your steps slower than usual, like neither of you wanted to be the first to break the strange peace that had settled over you.

But eventually, you couldn't hold back.

"…Are you okay not making your shift tonight?" you asked softly, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

He took a moment before answering, the faint scrape of his shoes against the pavement filling the gap. "I'll just work a double another time," he said with a shrug, like it was no big deal.

It made something pinch in your chest — this casual acceptance of overworking himself like it was second nature. You hesitated, then asked the question you realised you'd never actually known the answer to.

"Why do you work so hard?"

He didn't answer right away. His hands slid into his pockets, shoulders hunching slightly under the weight of the question. But eventually, his voice emerged, quieter than you expected.

"For as long as I can remember, it's just been me and my mum," he said. "She works really hard, but money's always been tight. When I was old enough, I took as many jobs as I could — bagging groceries, tutoring, working at that convenience store. And I kept my grades up because… I just wanted to make her proud. Wanted to give her a life where she didn't have to worry anymore."

You slowed your steps, turning your head to look at him properly. And once again, you saw him — not as your rival, not as the frustrating golden boy — but as a son. Someone's son, trying his best.

"You're a good son, Yunho," you said softly, with a smile that felt more genuine than any you'd given him before.

He smiled back — just a little — until you added, just as softly, "Can't say the same for myself though."

Yunho's footsteps halted. You stopped too, eyes falling to the sidewalk beneath you.

"You wanted to know why I transferred here, right?" you asked, voice quieter now.

Without waiting for an answer, you bent down and pulled up the edge of your right sock, revealing a thin line of surgical scars tracing across your ankle. The streetlight caught on the pale skin, glinting faintly.

"One bad match," you said, almost to yourself. "One opponent who played dirty during championships. That's all it took."

His brow furrowed, but he didn't interrupt.

"Like you said, I used to be fencing captain. Top-ranked in my old school." You let out a soft, bitter laugh. "And after the injury, I couldn't compete. I fell from first place — took months off to recover, missed exams, missed everything. To my parents, that was all it took for me to become… a disappointment."

You let your sock fall back into place, hands brushing down your skirt, voice tight with forced cheer. "So, they sent me here to start over. To rebuild whatever glory I lost. To make me their perfect trophy again."

The president didn't say anything right away. And for once, you didn't try to fill the silence either. You just stood there together, in the middle of a quiet street, under a flickering streetlamp — two students who had spent so long trying to outshine each other, only to realise they were both just chasing shadows.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you'd ever heard it.

"They were wrong."

You glanced up at him, blinking.

"They were wrong to make you think you're only worth something if you're perfect."

Your throat tightened, and you had to look away — because if you didn't, you might actually cry, and you weren't ready for that. Not in front of him.

"Come on," he said gently, nudging your arm. "We still have to survive this festival. One tragedy at a time."

You laughed — watery, but real. And without thinking, you bumped your shoulder into his.

For once, he didn't bump back harder.

────

Five steps later, you were finally here.

The festival had somehow, miraculously, come together — the chaos you and Yunho had wrestled into order was now a blur of glowing lanterns, flashing booth lights, and bursts of laughter floating up into the night air. From the rooftop, you could see it all — your shared battlefield turned into something beautiful.

You should have felt victorious. But instead, your chest ached with something you couldn't name.

Footsteps behind you.

You didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"Shouldn't you be down there soaking up the praise, President?" you asked, arms folded across your chest, voice deliberately casual.

He stepped up beside you, hands stuffed into his pockets, gaze flicking down over the festival before settling on you. "Shouldn't you be down there taking credit, Vice President?"

You side-eyed him, lips twitching up despite yourself. "I thought you hated sharing your spotlight."

"I do," he said — quieter this time, almost too honest. "But… maybe I don't mind sharing with you."

You froze.

This wasn't the usual banter. There was no smirk, no teasing edge to his voice. Just Yunho, standing there under the open sky, the glow of the festival washing a soft colour over his face.

"I spent this whole year trying to beat you," you admitted softly, your fingers curling around the cool metal railing. "Trying to prove I was better."

"Same," he said — too quickly, like he'd been holding it in. Then he shook his head, a breathless laugh slipping out. "But every time I thought I was close to finally taking you down, I just… ended up liking you more."

Your heart stuttered. "Liking me?"

"Yeah." He exhaled hard, like saying it out loud physically knocked the air from his lungs. "I hated you so much I couldn't think straight, and then somewhere along the way, I just wanted to know you. All of you."

The first fireworks burst overhead, painting the sky in red and gold. The light caught in his hair, in his eyes — and you realised you'd been staring at him this whole time.

"You're such an idiot," you whispered, even though your throat was suddenly tight.

"Why?" He turned toward you fully now, his shoulder brushing yours. "Because I confessed first?"

"No." You took a step closer — close enough that the heat of him bled into your skin. "Because I've liked you too. For longer than I wanted to admit."

Another firework cracked, sending sparks raining down like stars.

Neither of you looked at it.

Yunho's hand found yours on the railing — the touch hesitant at first, until your fingers curled back around his. His thumb traced along your knuckles like he couldn't believe this was real.

"I still want to beat you," you said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Good." He leaned down, forehead almost brushing yours. "I wouldn't like you if you didn't."

And then — under a sky exploding with light — he kissed you.

It wasn't sweet or shy. It was a clash of everything you'd ever felt for each other — every argument that left you breathless, every late-night meeting where silence spoke louder than words, every sharp-tongued insult meant to cut but only carved deeper into longing.

His lips were warm and urgent, tasting faintly of festival cotton candy and the mint gum he always chewed when stressed. His hand slid up, fingers threading into your hair before settling at your jaw, his thumb tracing a line along your cheekbone so softly it left your skin tingling.

He pulled you in like you were something fragile and precious and dangerous all at once — something he couldn't risk breaking, but couldn't stand losing.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, hands fisting in the fabric of his blazer, tugging him closer until there was nothing between you but heat and heartbeats. You could feel the tremble in his breath, the subtle shudder that ran through him when your fingers brushed the back of his neck. His heart hammered so loudly against your chest that you could swear it was echoing your own.

The fireworks painted streaks of gold and crimson across your closed eyelids, but none of it compared to the colour blooming beneath your skin — the dizzying warmth curling low in your stomach, the ache of every unsaid word bleeding into every touch.

When you finally broke apart, panting slightly, foreheads pressed together, you both laughed — breathless and dazed — like you couldn't believe it took you this long to get here.

The fireworks were beautiful.

But they were nothing compared to this.

────

The following Monday after the festival, the entire school knew.

Some claimed they'd caught glimpses of you and Yunho sneaking off together just before the fireworks, while others swore they saw his arm casually draped around your shoulders during the late-night cleanup. And, of course, the boldest rumours came from those who witnessed you both at the council table, sipping from the same straw like it was the most natural thing in the world.

But none of that was the real giveaway.

The real giveaway was how you two fought — exactly the same as before, except now he called you baby in the middle of arguments, and you shot back with a saccharine sweetheart, both said with enough venom to curdle milk. The council meetings were still battlegrounds, but now they were laced with something sharper — affection disguised as irritation, fondness hidden under barbed words.

"We should focus on next month's fundraiser," Yunho declared, tapping his pen against the table.

"We should focus on midterm review sessions first," you countered, not even looking up from your notes.

"You just want to show off how perfect your study guides are," he accused, eyes narrowing.

"And you just want to procrastinate so you can rewrite your precious 'president's welcome speech,'" you fired back.

"It's called leadership."

"It's called an ego trip."

The room went silent — council members exchanging wide-eyed glances, already bracing for the explosion.

But instead of storming off like you used to, Yunho just leaned back in his chair, tilting his head with that infuriating smirk. "I'm still your boss, Vice President."

Your smile was too sweet, too dangerous. "And I'm still the one who covers your ass when you forget deadlines, President."

Somewhere in the back of the room, Wooyoung silently started a betting pool: kiss or kill — which would happen first?

Together, the two of you became the undeniable, unstoppable force of the student council — a perfect storm of brains, charisma, and sheer chaos. When Yunho's charm and golden-boy smile couldn't win over the principal, your cold logic and flawless presentations sealed the deal. When your sharp tongue and brutal honesty made freshmen tremble, his easy grin softened the blow. Together, you raised more funds, pulled off bigger events, and terrified more slackers than any council duo in school history.

And yes — you still argued like your lives depended on it.

But now, the fights ended with lazy kisses behind closed doors, fingers brushing under the table during meetings, and softly muttered threats of "I'm still going to beat you at this" whispered like a love language.

Some days, he walked you to your chauffeured car, fingers laced with yours despite the stunned looks from every passing student. Other days, you waited at the convenience store until his shift ended, pretending to browse the snack aisle while secretly watching him work — admiring the boy who once drove you insane, and now, somehow, made your heart ache in the best way possible.

And every night you walked home together, sharing an umbrella or splitting a can of soda, your shoulders bumping softly in the dark.

"We're still enemies, right?" you asked once, voice quiet under the stars.

He grinned, tugging you closer by the waist. "Always."

Then he kissed you again — and just like that, the fight for power had never tasted so sweet. Because somewhere between rivalry and romance, between every clash and compromise, you both realised: there was no winning without each other.

If you've watched Kaguya-sama: Love Is War and are also a fan of it, just know that I love you. The way Wooyoung was initially going to take Miyuki's role, but on second thought, Yunho seemed more well-suited for it. Wouldn't you agree?

Also, I hope y'all liked the rooftop kiss🙈

And if you haven't watched the anime, I love you too! For taking the time to read this, I genuinely hope it was enjoyable hehe I know I had a lot of fun writing this.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

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[mingigoo]

1- Mingi

2- High school au

3- Prompts 12, 50, 53, and 56.

4- 18+ (some fluff but also rough?)

5- Reader is shy and a lil depressed while Mingi is one of the popular guys who everyone thinks doesn’t have any emotions but it’s actually a softie. (I love cliches what can I say). Can the genre be Strangers to lovers? Maybe he finds her crying in a classroom and that’s how they met. Also can there be a size kink and voice kink please?

Thank you!

nightmare, daydream || s.mg (m)

📓pairing ⇢ tutor! (fem) reader x popular boy! Mingi

📓 summary ⇢ in the quiet of the school’s art room during lunch time, Mingi accidentally interrupts your vulnerable moment. It was as if your usual invisible self was finally noticed. He intrigued you immensely, and as you are paired up to help tutor him, you find out that he’s much sweeter than he would like to lead on.

📓 genre/au ⇢ strangers to lovers au, high school au, slow burn, smut, angst, some fluff

📓 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ minors DNI, voice kink, slight hand link, size kink, slightly rough sex, teasing, mingi is a secret scaredy-cat, longing, high school lovers, probably more i'm just blanking so please let me know what I missed.

📓 word count ⇢ 11.1k

📓 taglist ⇢  @atinywhore @ch0isa99ie @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @leeknowsnothing @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

y/n and mingi’s moodboards

The air was crisp as you breathed in, leaves crunching underneath your feet. 

It was still warm out—just between summer and fall. The leaves, however, were already falling, but some were still stuck on the branches like their lives depended on it. You envied their efforts, but yet, you knew they were going to fall just like the rest of them—it was inevitable. 

School had just started like any other year. You weren't exactly happy to go back, but at least it was your last. You wouldn't have to see the faces of your classmates ever again—you never got along with any of them, anyway.

The timing never seemed right. Your life had been a mess since you could remember, but it had just got worse a few days ago when you received the news of your father’s passing. He wasn't involved in your life; you forced yourself not to feel a thing about that man—but death was permanent, and you were terrified of it. If you cried about him, that would make you weak. But maybe, just maybe, bottling up these emotions was going to hurt you more than death ever could.

As you turned the corner to enter the school’s gates, a group of rambunctious boys pushed past you, laughing and carrying on and breaking the dress code. They never seemed to care if their ties were tied right, let alone tucking in their shirts. They always looked so messy to you; disorganized. It sent your hyperfocused mind into a spiral, but you shut it out and continued to make your way inside.

The hallway was bustling more than usual. 

You had a hard time with crowded places.

You pushed past some girls, who, as they always did, glared at you as you passed by. You were used to it, and your mother used to tell you it was because they were jealous. You knew that wasn't the case, rather, it was your backwardness that seemed to get on their nerves more than your beauty. 

You never understood your purpose. Somedays, you weren't even sure you were real. The world felt like it was crumbling around you non-stop, and you didn't know how to feel. You still don't know how to feel the things around you, as if your body didn't deserve it. Your soul didn't deserve it.

Like every other year, you sat down in the back of the classroom, away from those that actually mattered. Those seats should be for the ones that light up the room. 

Maybe it was your OCD, but if you weren't at least fifteen minutes early, you were late. And if you were late, you hated yourself even more than you already did. So, here you were, sitting in an empty classroom while the rest of your classmates carried on in the corridors and made out in the bathrooms—which was disgusting, by the way. Who would ever do that?

The silence felt….comfortable. It was only you and the slight hum of the wind through the open windows. You were too far away to feel it, but you imagined it soaring through your hair, dancing through you. 

But said silence ended after the popular crowd emptied into the room, girls trailing behind the boys like leeches craving blood.

You shivered.

The boys were popular for reasons. Two of them played basketball, the other baseball, and then….

And then there was him.

Mingi wasn't an athlete like his friends, although he had a body like one. You watched him walk into the room like he owned it, his jaw set tightly as his friends cackled about something. You remembered back in middle school when he was small and scrawny—and slightly shorter than you. Now, the boy grew into a man, his muscular frame taking up so much space that it almost suffocated you.

You never saw him smile despite his raging popularity. It was as if he was just….there. He didn't speak much, you noted. He had this aura about him that interested you beyond degree, but yet, you made no effort to dig deeper.

You couldn't help but watch him take his seat on the other side of the room, right next to the open window. He liked sitting by windows. It almost brought a curl to your lips, as his dreary-looking ass always was lit up by the sunlight. He reminded you more of the moon, but not at night. More so, the moon before the sun sets—barely there, but still noticeable. You, on the other hand, weren't even a star in his almost-night sky.

His silvery-grey hair nearly looked blonde in the sunlight, shining smoothly. He made you angry. Everything about him. But he never personally victimized you in any way. He just……never noticed you.

The rest of the class piled in as the warning bell rang, jumping into their seats but still talking to their friends. You remained quiet, your deskmate not even sparing a passing glance at you.

“Good morning, seniors,” the teacher, who you haven't seen before, smiled at everyone. “I bet you're all ecstatic to be back.”

A bunch of groans, complaints, etcetera erupted. You didn't say anything. Your deskmate already had his head down.

And then the teacher looked at you. Only for a second, but long enough. You were first in the class, which no one else seemed to know other than the faculty and staff. You would prefer it that way, but this year, you'll have a lot of attention on you. 

Your eyes traveled to Mingi once more, watching him look out the window with his chin in his hand. He wasn't paying attention one bit.

The classes came and went. Your head hurt by the end of the day, stuffing all the information you learned because that was all you had for the future. University was your only option, your only ‘dream’ if you could call it that.

Art class on the first day was pointless, but you never wanted to leave the room. It was the one thing that you enjoyed deeply. Painting was something you shared with your mother. Your favorite thing to paint was what you saw—little things around that made your heart feel something. 

When it was time to eat lunch, the rest of the kids ran out of the art room, groups of friends having fun together. You watched Mingi and his friends get up, one of them hanging onto his broad, broad shoulders like a jungle gym. His gaze never strayed from his path, even if you were in it. He moved out of the room like a big wave, current pulling everything out of the room except you.

Once everyone was gone, including the teacher, you walked over to the windowsill, seeing the little houseplant holding on to dear life. It was wilting despite getting sunlight. You stood over it, emotionless. Lips turned down, you reached out to touch its dying petals, causing one to fall to its death.

You sucked in a breath, your chest heavy. You've pushed all your emotions so far back that everything was bound to come up at once. You swallowed the lump in your throat, but it wouldn't budge. You felt the pressure behind your eyes while all your bottled-up issues came to the surface—your father’s death being the main event. You hated him for everything that he did, but he was still your father. He was….still something to you. 

You sank to the floor, embarrassed, overwhelmed. Your soul felt heavier than ever, as if it just wanted to break away and leave this godforsaken world. The tears trailed down your cheeks even though you tried so hard to hold them back. It was okay to cry, it was okay. It's normal. Cry it out, cry it out, you'll feel better—

“...oh,” a deep voice rumbled through your body, causing you to take in a sharp breath and look up. 

There he was, filling up the whole doorframe like a giant. You breathed in deeply, but the tears kept falling and falling. He stood awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked concerned, though, and it was at that moment, in the art room, that your invisible self became visible—at least to somebody. 

“I….I’m sorry, I just came to grab my jacket,” he mumbled softly, gently. It caught you off guard. His presence felt oddly comforting. The look on his pretty face made you want to cry even more.

You slowly nodded, and he hesitantly entered the dim room, cautiously making his way to his easel to grab his jacket. You watched him, sniffling, beyond embarrassed. He tried not to look at you, you noticed, and you assumed it was because you looked like an absolute weirdo crying on the floor, in an art room, on the first day of classes.

And when you thought he was going to leave, he stopped dead in the doorway, his big, muscular shoulders tightening.

And then he turned around.

“I can….I can stay, if you want,” he hummed, his deep voice rippling through you. You looked up into his serious gaze, furrowing your eyebrows. 

You wanted to ask him why. Why would someone like him spare a moment of his precious time to stay with a crying weird girl? Clearly, he was concerned; it was apparent on his face. It was just….so strange that he looked in your direction, especially at a time like this. 

In a moment of weakness, you slightly nodded your head, forcing a smile—which may have looked more like a grimace. He took your nod as an okay and sat on the windowsill, keeping his distance. You looked up at him, tears still falling, but he wasn't looking at you. He was sitting with contentment, arms crossed over his chest with that emotionless face he always sported. You watched his foot, how it anxiously tapped against the floor, and how he just….made his large presence feel small.

You opened your mouth, trying to justify yourself. You didn't even know each other like this—you never spoke more than a sentence to each other before. You felt like you needed to explain why you were crying because if you didn't, he probably would've thought of you as that weirdo everyone believed you were.

“You don't have to tell me why,” he spoke, biting his tongue to stop himself from saying more.

You blinked up at him as he spoke, feeling his tone rumble through you. You had nothing to say—and that was okay. You both sat in the quiet room for some time, way longer than you thought he would stay, until your tears dried. The bell rang soon after, and he stood up hesitantly.

He gave you a genuine look of worry—but not pity. 

“It’s okay to cry, you know,” he hummed at the door over his shoulder, tilting his head. “Don't be ashamed for feeling something.”

And then he left as if he were never there. The room felt even colder than it did before as if his presence warmed it. You smiled to yourself, his words hitting you deeply.

It was that moment when you declared that you were completely, irrevocably intrigued by him. He was all you thought about, all you noticed.

Like a daydream to your nightmare.

— 

You watched Mingi the next day in homeroom again. This time, the sun didn't dare peek through the curtains of the clouds as they cried.

He sat with his head down on the desk, his eyes closed in his effort to sleep. His eyebrows were scrunched as if he couldn't let his mind rest. You wanted to ease him, just like he eased you yesterday.

He looked so beautiful, even on a rainy day. You knew he didn't have an umbrella today, as his hair was damp. He also looked cold, which struck you by surprise. He was so….large…if you could put it that way. You might have been jumping to conclusions when you assumed he couldn't get cold because of the sheer size of his body, but maybe it was because he seemed so warm to you. Like a comforting hug.

Without warning, his sleepy eyes started to open slowly, meeting your gaze from across the loud, busy room. You didn't move your stare away—you just kept on admiring him without words, taking notice of how the crease between his eyes eased just by looking at you. You didn't smile or speak. Neither did he. He just sat there, his head down still, but his eyes sparkled like they always did. As his friends carried on around him, he kept quiet, watching you from a distance. 

The moment felt like forever, and when the first class began, He still kept his eyes on you.

—

That weekend, you ventured your way around on a mission to enjoy your favorite midnight snack. The convenience store on the corner always had the best selection of snacks, but tonight, you opted for just a banana milk. As you grabbed one, another large hand encased one next to you, startling you.

You looked to your right, Mingi standing there emotionless—but his eyes sparkled with mischief. 

“Banana milk, huh?” he tilted his head, his gaze analyzing you like a work of art. You wondered if he thought of you as one. “I thought you'd be more of a strawberry girl.”

You blinked, confused. He was talking to you like a normal human being. You furrowed your brows as you looked at him, filtering your response.

“I like strawberry, too,” you admitted, giving him a confused glance before making your way to the register. He followed, a decent distance away from you, his body nearly twice the size of yours. Surprisingly, once again, his presence was far from intimidating. 

He stepped in front of you as you went to pay, setting down his strawberry milk with yours. You were about to question his actions, but then he handed the worker money, paying for you without saying anything. You frowned but kept your mouth shut, knowing that he was just being kind. You did begin to worry if he did this out of pity.

You walked out of the store together, sitting down on the stoop outside. You sat shoulder to shoulder in silence, sipping on your milk comfortably. It has been a long time since you felt comfortable in silence with someone. It was nice.

You looked over at him as he stared straight ahead towards the road in front of you, his pretty, silver hair shining under the street lights. 

“What’s your name?” he hummed gently, genuinely. You tried your best not to be insulted, but you tried to look at it in his view—in a room filled with a bunch of others, you probably never caught his eye enough to reach his curiosity. 

You blinked at him, trying hard not to show any specific emotion. “y/n,” you stated, taking a sip of your banana milk. 

He nodded, looking forward. He muttered your name as if he was trying to engrave it into his mind.

“y/n,” he murmured, nodding. You tried so hard not to feel butterflies.

After a moment of silence, you sat and watched him, probably weird to anyone other than you. But you looked at him, saw how he scrunched his nose as he looked forward, how his plump lips parted as he breathed. You noticed everything he did and didn't do.

“You're different than I thought you were,” you spoke, still staring at him. He moved his gaze to you, looking down through his long, dark eyelashes. You admired his beauty, having no reason to hide it. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, still looking perfect. His expression lacked emotion, as if he had a hard time with it. “And how did you think I was?”

You shrugged, maintaining eye contact. You hated to hide your feelings, feeling as if it were pointless. He seemed like someone you could confide in, but maybe that was because you admired him for a long time. “I don't know, I just assumed you lacked a sense of humanity.”

He looked confused. “I…I don't get what you mean.”

“You were always so unreal to me,” you shrugged again, looking from his hair to his large hands holding onto the tiny milk. “Robotic-like.”

He nodded as if he agreed with you. You weren't the best at expressing yourself, but you had hoped he took your reasoning as a compliment.

More silence. You finished off your drink as he spoke once more.

“How are you?”

A simple question. A question usually asked without a care, just small talk. This time, however, he turned his body towards you, genuinely asking.

You looked away from him shyly. “I’m alright now,” you paused, refraining from saying more. “How are you?”

He sighed, looking forward. “I’m also alright. But I have detention tomorrow because I threw a basketball at some dickhead who thought it was okay to bully someone.”

You nearly smiled. 

“That's not fair,” you hummed softly. “You were standing up for them, and you get the shit end of the stick.” 

Mingi shrugged. “Violence still wasn't the answer,” he smiled, almost painfully. “I’m working on that.”

You admired him more than ever.

He stood up, towering over you. “I’ll see you at school, yeah?”

Your mind ran a mile a minute with everything you wanted to say to him. Yet, you kept your lips sealed and smiled.

“Yes,” you grinned. “I’ll see you, Mingi.”

—

“Miss y/n,” your homeroom teacher called for you as you walked down the hall, catching your attention. “Can I speak to you quickly?”

You nodded, knowing it was probably something to do with grades or planning some sort of event. You followed him into the empty classroom while he rummaged through some papers.

“I need you to tutor one of your classmates,” he spoke, still ruffling through a mess of papers until he found what he was looking for. “He requested you when I brought up the idea of getting tutored, so I hope you'll be interested. It’ll look great on your college application, of course.”

You furrowed your brows. “Who requested me? What’s the subject?”

“Uh…who was it…who was it—Ah, yes, Song Mingi. He’s struggling with chemistry.”

There you go again—as if it were fate. You were tangled with him once more, your mind circling back to him. You have never been involved with anyone to this degree, and the fact that Mingi requested you made it even more interesting.

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll do it.”

You walked out of the classroom, a smile nearly reaching your lips. Things were getting interesting—you were starting to feel like a real high school student and not just some fly on the wall that everyone tried to ignore—or swat at.

In the chemistry lab, Mingi sat his ginormous ass down next to you, letting out a sigh as he did it. You received a few weird looks from your classmates, who were probably wondering why the hell the popular Song Mingi was paying attention to the creepy art freak.

Or maybe you were thinking way too far into things.

“Hello, tutor,” he whispered deeply, tossing his notebook onto the table in front of you. He looked extra nice today—his hair was styled, so his forehead was showing. You took notice of the delicate birthmark on his cheek and how something so small made a huge impact on beauty.

You blinked at him, not an ounce of fear in your body. “Your face is pretty,” you spoke softly, admiring him. You didn't exactly mean to blurt that out, but hey, it was true. Why should you act like you didn't find him breathtaking? 

He looked taken aback by the random spew of admiration as if he’d never heard it before. His usually expressionless face brightened up, but only slightly. “You think I’m pretty?”

You nodded curtly, biting the corner of your lip. “Yeah, I’m sure everyone does.”

“Yes, but,” he rubbed his fingers against the spiral of his notebook, causing your attention to go to his long, gorgeous fingers. “Everyone else doesn't matter.”

You frowned, unsure what he meant by that. You didn't even have time to ask, anyway, as the teacher came in and started the lesson. Your eyes focused on his hands, his clean nails, his movements. He couldn't seem to stay still and had to move at least his fingers or his foot. It made you warm and fuzzy that such a big man had such human habits.

When you started the daily experiment, you bumped elbows with Mingi. He shied away, rather than you, and looked at you with a lost expression. You began to work together, but as your thoughts began to move to the idea of Mingi’s hands on you, all over you, you accidentally knocked over the beaker of chemicals. You shrieked back, bumping into Mingi’s chest, and as if it were a reflex, he held your shoulders tightly as if to protect you.

“What happened?” the teacher inquired, and you turned to her, Mingi still embracing you from his enormous height. It was then you realized how much smaller you were—your head only reaching his shoulder. 

You tried to form words, but nothing came out. Instead, mingi apologized. “I’m sorry, I accidentally caused y/n to knock over the beaker.”

The teacher looked irritated, but sighed in response. “All right, thank goodness it’s only Acetic Acid. Can you both please grab some cleaning materials in the janitor's closet down the hall? I cannot leave the room while administering chemicals.”

You looked up at Mingi, pulling yourself away from his grip awkwardly. You nodded, taking off your goggles before nearly running out of the room, Mingi following suit.

You reached the room, opening the small door as quickly as you could. You didn't know how close Mingi was, and when you felt his breath hit the top of your head, you tripped up, pulling him into the closet with you. 

You landed on top of his muscular body, feeling his warmth through your clothes. He let out a grunt right by your ear, creating a mess of dirty thoughts in your mind. You looked down at him, and when you saw that gorgeous, slight smirk on his pretty lips, you swallowed the lump in your throat. His smile was so beautiful—maybe because it was rare.

You were quite literally on top of the Song Mingi.

“Hi,” he mumbled softly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

“....hi,” you peeped out, suddenly aware of your breath and your weight. You didn't even get the chance to get off of him when the door suddenly shut, causing you to jump.

You looked at him one more time, watching his gaze drop to your mouth, before tossing yourself off of him to open the door—but it was locked, and you were stuck, all alone with the one man you thought about more than anyone.

“Is that….is that locked?” Mingi pushed himself up on his palms, looking so delicious it was eating you up from the inside. 

You tried to open the door over and over again, and after the millionth time, you sighed. “Yep.” 

And then he laughed—a deep, childlike rumble that tickled your brain. You looked at him with wide eyes as he stood up in the small closet, inches away from you. It was dully lit by the lightbulb above, orange hues drowning his strong features. You noticed little specks of gold in his eyes like he was carved by the gods, decorated with glamour. You wanted to reach out and glide a hand down his cheek just to feel his skin. He looked unreal in horrible closet lighting. You wondered what you looked like to him.

“What is it?” his deep voice rumbled, a questioning tone. “Do I…..make you nervous?”

He took a step closer to you, but you did not step back. You tilted your head up more, gazing straight into his intoxicating eyes.

“Maybe,” you admitted, biting the inside of your cheek. “Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Because you're attractive,” you admitted with ease, making him smile even more. You felt butterflies from his gaze, knowing that you were the cause of his grin. “You make a lot of people nervous.”

He looked conflicted—his hand twitched at his side, begging to touch you. The amount of chemistry flowing between you now was more than the amount spilled on the linoleum, and you felt the electric shock simmering through your soul.

He sighed, eyes dancing across your features.  “You're so…interesting,” he whispered, his hand finally breaking the bone-crushing lack of touch. His fingers delicately glided up your arm, but stayed there. You ached for them to move all over you.

You frowned, wondering what he meant. “In a good way?” you asked him, your voice small.

He didn't answer you—maybe he didn't know, either. Maybe his interest was something his brain could not comprehend, similar to how he captivated you. You were both vastly different—from different worlds. But yet….this feeling between you was undeniable.

His hand met your shoulder now, sending a chill down your spine. Why was he…why was he touching you on his own accord, why was he looking at you like that?

Your chest tightened, his expression unreadable. His breath tickled you, his cologne powerful. You closed your eyes on impulse, taking in this feeling, these senses, this ache in your chest that you have never felt before.

Before Mingi acted on his impulses, the door swung open, and you shoved him against the other wall, turning around quickly. 

“There you are. I was wondering if everything was okay,” the teacher huffed, calling you both out of the closet. You couldn't even remember walking back to the classroom, but you vividly remembered the feeling of his hands on you—and wondered about where else those fingers could go.

—

The next few days, Mingi sat with you at your lunch table—which was usually just you or someone else at the end who didn't have anything to do with you. It caused a lot of commotion; his friends were confused at the table across the room, and girls began to chit-chat while glaring.

You didn't mind; it was nothing. People were allowed to look and talk. It doesn't make you any less of a person.

Mingi rested his head on his palm across from you, flipping through his chemistry notebook aggressively. He didn't speak, he just made irritated noises. You smiled at him—probably the only person you ever showed this much emotion to.

“What are you confused about?” you asked him as you took a bite of your lunch, noticing that his tray was completely filled without a single bite taken.

He sighed, looking up at you for a second longer than a friend should've. He blinked, brushing away the hair that covered his eyes, before dropping his gaze back to the textbook.

“I just don't understand any of this,” he mumbled, his tone worrisome. You noticed his feelings more than your own—your heart ached to tell him that it’ll be okay. That he shouldn't worry. 

But you weren't anything to him—he just learned your name while you knew his everything.

You leaned forward, hearing the soft breaths leave his lips. You tried your best to read the backward words, succeeding after a long moment. 

“Ah, Ionic bonds?” you reiterated, meeting his gaze. He nodded, looking at you instead of his book. You ignored his intense stare. “Do you know the linkage?”

He just stared at you, his eyes twinkling. His expression lacked any sort of emotion, but somehow, you felt as if he was captivated—like an artist appreciating his artwork.

“Anyway,” you forced yourself to continue, holding in all of your questions for him. Why was he looking at you like that? Why did you feel a pull to him, a pull like no other? Like you were made just for him in this universe, similar to those oppositely charged ions being pulled together in electrovalence. You were an Ionic bond, two opposites, an undeniable tug, a match made in chemistry.

“Electrostatic attraction,” you gulped, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Despite the room being filled with people, you only saw each other. 

He looked down at your hands, which were quite literally fumbling over your chopsticks. “What?”

You cleared your throat, feeling jittery. You never felt jittery. No one made you feel this way—actually, nobody ever made you feel anything. This scared you but interested you more. “When two ions of opposite charges are attracted to each other. It creates an Ionic bond….”

“A bond?” he hummed, his fingers peeling back the textbook page, causing you to look down. You breathed in deep, composing yourself, but the deep ache to have him ruined everything you ever worked for—your beauty has always been your brain, but he made you feel like your outward appearance was also worthy. 

“Yes,” you nodded, pulling away from him to sit against the back of the seat. “Kind of like….opposites attract. You know, how people are attracted to those different than them?”

He stared at you, his cold gaze somehow warming you more than summer ever could. He may have looked like winter, but to you, he melted the ice off your stone-cold heart.

You looked at each other then, that chemistry sparking and spilling all over you. His lips were downturned in a frown, but oh, his eyes lit the fire inside your barren soul. The things you wanted to say to him ripped through you, desperate to reach the surface, but you held back as you were happy enough to get his attention.

“Why don't we…..why don't we skip next period?” he spoke, biting his lip slightly. You watched his eyes dance across your face, trying to figure you out. 

You never missed a class. You came to school on time. You followed every rule known to man. Everything you did was by the book. But now, oh…..everything you ever knew about yourself seemed to be dwindling over a cliff.

With a short nod, you watched his lips curl slightly, feeling proud that you were the cause once again.

—

It was raining as you both ran through the empty halls, drops dripping down the windows like they were racing to the finish line. His hand brushed against yours, sending a shock through your body. You wondered if he felt it, too.

“Do you have an umbrella?” he asked you as you reached the back door.

You shook your head.

He sighed, contemplating his impulses, you assumed. But you felt in control now, and with a quick motion, you gripped his hand, offering him a questionable look before pushing through the door.

You tumbled through the rain, drenching you as if you were in the ocean. He held onto your hand tightly as if he would drown without you. He let out a laugh, feeling like music to your ears. Without thinking, a smile reached your lips, your cheeks turned red as he pulled you through the rain.

You stopped underneath a small building’s overhead roof, both of you out of breath and soaked to the bone. He looked ethereal—his silver hair now dark like the night sky. His eyelashes were covered in raindrops, delicately taking rest on him. His skin was dewy, his smile brighter than anything you've ever seen before.

You felt the butterflies then—like you were in a movie. However, you haven't seen this film before. The air around you felt serene, the mist of the fallen raindrops splashing all around you. He was close, too close, if that was possible. Your body nearly went into flight or flight at his gaze, his intention. He felt like the rain to you, all around you, soaking into you. You didn't know how to not think of him this way.

“Your face,” he hummed in the small space, your shelter—It was him. “You're dripping wet,” he said, and with a twitch of his hand, his fingers gracefully slid across your cheek, catching the drops in their fall—but he couldn't catch you as you fell.

You swore your soul left your body as he touched you. It was like he was destined to touch you. It may seem silly, especially to your incredibly logical thought process, to be melting under someone’s fingertips. It seemed utterly shameful to your mind that you feel like a puddle as if he was the melting point and you were just….well, mush. It was because of your lack of experience, maybe, that everything he did was heightened.

“Ah,” you fought the urge to lean into his touch. Even after he wiped away the raindrops, his hand still cradled your cheek, his eyebrows knotted in confusion. 

So you reached up, pressing your pointer finger between his brows. You eased his thoughts, resting his expression. “Don't do that,” you blinked up at him, watching his eyes widen at your touch. “You look prettier when you smile.”

He fought off his smile, but you still saw it. “Don't say that.” 

He did smile after he spoke this time, as if he couldn't hold it away.

When he smiled, you felt like you ruled the world.

“Why?”

His touch felt warm against your cold cheek.

“Because,” his eyes—oh, you loved them. They were so expressive, they made up for his lack of emotion. They spoke a million words, like a window into his hidden soul. “You'll confuse me.”

“I don't mean to confuse you, Mingi.” When you spoke his name, you could've sworn he sucked in a breath. “But think I’m a pretty straightforward person.”

He scoffed slightly, looking at his own hand and how it fit perfectly to your face. “You're so oblivious for someone who’s our valedictorian.”

You blinked quickly, the sound of the rain encapsulating the air around you. You were hyperaware of everything—his breaths, the beauty mark on his cheek, his hand on yours. His height, god, it stirred your guts around in more ways than one. 

The moment felt like forever. You stood there, trying to catch your breath, but he kept taking it away. It took you back to the day he saw you in the art studio, how he kept his distance but filled the room with so much care without speaking—he made you feel something no one ever will accomplish. 

When you arrived back at the school, you ended up in detention together, huge grins on both of your faces as you sat across from one another. When he smiled, your whole body tingled, and when he looked at you, you became his.

—

As the days move on, the leaves rot on the ground you walk on. You loved October. You belonged to the season. Your soul only lived during the death of summer.

Mingi, once again, followed you like a lost puppy. He sat next to you at lunch, not across from you, and just….sat contently. You both didn't speak. He watched you eat, watched you breathe. If he were anyone else, they would've been six feet down.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked, his body turned to you. 

You shrugged, looking over at him. You met his gaze, feeling those shocks once more. “Probably just studying for the chemistry exam.”

He nodded, sniffling. You frowned at him, now tilting yourself to face him. “Are you getting sick?” you asked him, unsure if you looked concerned or irritated.

He let a small smile reach his emotionless lips. “I don't know yet, it may be my allergies.”

You curtly nodded your head, and then you turned back to your food. He held his head up by his hand, staring at you, his eyes conflicted. You tried so hard not to turn towards him and kiss his lips. You weren't too sure how he would take that.

After another couple of moments of silence, he spoke again. “Do you want to come over tonight? To study, of course,” he interjected, which led your dirty, inexperienced mind into a fit of thoughts.

Were his parents going to be home? What was he planning on doing to you? Did he…did he have an ulterior motive?

Mingi broke you out of your thoughts. “I mean, if you don't feel comfortable, we can meet somewhere else—”

“No,” you cleared your throat, gripping your chopsticks tighter. “I mean, I would love to come over.”

His eyes twinkled as you met them, like shooting stars falling from the sky. He probably didn't realize that they did it, as his face didn't show any other hint of excitement.

“Okay, nice,” he said blandly, but once again, his eyes said otherwise. You dared to smile, causing him to smile back.

The sunlight danced across his honey skin through the blinds, and you just sat there, admiring him, dreaming about not-so-PG thoughts. 

—

Later on in the evening, you stood in your best efforts of an “effortless” look, anxiously looking at Mingi’s monstrous home. You assumed he was rich, but not this rich. 

The home was glorious, a mansion, if you will. You couldn't even count the windows before you started to feel the pit of your stomach growing bigger and bigger. You swallowed hard, adjusting your bag on your shoulder before pushing past the gates of the entrance. 

It took you a solid minute to knock on his door, which was probably bigger than your room alone. He took a while to answer, causing you even more anxiety. What if a goddamn maid opened the door? God, you'd book it so far that he’d never find you again—

“Y/n,” he hummed breathlessly as he opened the door, his hair dripping wet and his whole torso completely unclothed. Your eyes traveled without permission, noticing the droplets of water that dared to drip down his defined abs….down onto the edge of the towel that just barely covered his hips. You held back your animalistic cravings as you noticed his v-line, swallowing hard. “You’re early.”

You did not move your gaze—you continued to eyeball him without shame. He didn't seem to mind. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Should I leave?” you blinked, eyes rolling up from below to his gaze. He almost looked embarrassed, but there was something sinister in his emotional eyes.

He paused, noticing how you were looking at him. He swallowed hard, too, opening the door wider to let you in. “No…just….come in. Let me go put…..clothes on.”

You nearly smiled at his embarrassment. You followed him in, in awe of his broad shoulders and smooth skin, to the curve of his sides. You felt like an animal in heat.

You looked around the home, feeling….empty. There were no pictures on the walls, no mirrors. Not an ounce of an existence of family, or color, or comfort. It was cold—Void of emotion.

You sat on the couch in one of the living rooms, the ceilings a million feet high. The TV rested on the wall in front of you, bigger than your home. You didn't see anyone, or hear anyone other than Mingi. It felt lonely—yet you were only there for a minute or two.

When he came back into the room, fully dressed in a baggy t-shirt and sweats, you wondered how on earth that shirt drowned him. Maybe if you put it on, it would probably end below your knees.

“Sorry, sorry,” he let out a small anxious chuckle. He stood in front of you, causing you to strain your neck and look up at him. “Should we study here or….?”

Some part of you wished that you weren't here to study. It was something about the feeling between you….it was burning red, fiery, and you craved to dive into its flames.

“It doesn't matter,” you shrugged. “Wherever you want, really.”

His presence is intoxicating. Your mind wanders to his gentle expression, to the water dripping down his head, and you begin to question your sanity. The range of emotions you feel for him was alarming—especially for you.

You follow him into the kitchen and set your bag down on the island. He stands and stares, similarly to how you were observing him earlier. 

As you tried to tutor him about chemicals and such, you looked up at him occasionally, only to find him looking at you.

“What?” you asked him softly, meeting his gaze. “Is there something you're confused about?”

He stared at you intently, his lips downturned. “Yes,” he admitted, biting the inside of his cheek.

“What is it? Is it about—”

“You,” he blinked, fiddling with his fingers. “I…you confuse me.”

Your eyes widened, your stomach tightening at his words. “How do I confuse you?”

“You just…” he sighed, setting down his pencil. “I never know what you're thinking, I guess.”

“Ditto,” you shrugged, keeping the eye-contact.

Silence. You just stared at each other, almost desperately, as you tried to understand what exactly was burning between you.

He sighed, breaking the eye contact by looking down at his textbook. “Let’s just….” he swallowed hard, shutting his book with a forced smile. “Let’s study another time. How about we watch a movie?”

You met his gaze, feeling the air burn around you. His expression was indescribable—something you've never encountered before. You nodded, nonetheless, and when he stood up abruptly, you followed him like a lost puppy through his house, which was far from a home.

“Why are you alone?” you asked from behind, watching his large body move with such grace. 

He didn't look back as he responded. “My parents live in Seoul,” he hummed. “I’ve been alone.”

You felt a chill roll down your spine as his cold words echoed through you. He seemed to have bad blood with them, whoever they are, and your flighty personality has you wanting to seek them out to tell them how horrible it is to leave their child behind.

As you walked into the vast, empty living room, you stopped in your tracks.

“It must be lonely,” you murmured, to which he paused for a second. 

He let out a small laugh—a forced laugh—like he needed to pretend to be okay. You wished for the day he didn't need to pretend.

He sat down on the sectional, his long legs sprawling out. You looked at him before sitting down next to him, a reasonable distance away. He looked over at you, his eyes conflicted.

“What…. what's your favorite kind of movie?” He asked you.

You hesitated. You were concerned about what he would think about your opinion. 

“Horror,” you admitted, watching his eyes widen.

“Horror?” he reiterated, his expression grim. 

It was almost too cute. You nearly blushed.

You smirked, sliding in a bit closer to him. “What? Are you scared? I thought you were a big, tough guy.”

“..fine, ahem,” he cleared his throat, running a hand through that silvery hair of his. “I’ll put a horror movie on….since you like them.”

As the movie played, you sat next to each other, still a suffocating amount of space between you. You looked over at him, his expression wary, his hands balled up as if he were terrified. 

You scooted over closer to him, hearing his breath hitch. You weren't sure if it was because of you moving closer or because of the jumpscare on the TV. you leaned in slightly, whispering into his ear. “Are you scared, Mingi?” you giggled, causing him to jump.

“Fuck, he hissed, his eyes frazzled. He quickly tried to calm himself down, and he put a silly little smile on his face. “No, I just don't like getting jump scared, is all.”

You smiled at him, the distance now only inches. You watched how his Adam’s apple bobbed anxiously as the space between you two shrank and how his eyes lingered on your lips. You wanted him to reach out and press them to yours, like how it almost happened in the supply closet. You wanted to feel everything he could make you feel—more than you already felt.

As the movie went on, the loud, atrocious noises filled the space, but all you saw was him. The room was dark, and his features were highlighted by the small source of light coming from the television. You watched his eyes glimmer through the darkness as they landed on you, and you heard his breaths quicken.

And in that moment, you had enough.

You slowly reached out to him, your fingertips meeting the softness of his cheek. He frowned in confusion, but his eyes spoke more words than he’d ever said before.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“I….” you swallowed hard, bringing up your other hand to cradle his face gently. “I just want to feel something. I….I want you to feel it, too.”

Your eyes meet his lips; his eyes do the same. You've never been this close to anyone….and he felt just right. Everything about him caused you to ache. To ache for his touch, his attention. You craved every part of him, even before he knew your name.

He shined in the sunlight, even when it rained. 

And with that look in his eye—that deep, desired look—you slowly pressed your lips to his unmoving ones, and after a moment, he kissed back with such passion you could swear you saw stars.

His hands held the back of your head, his lips parting yours. He let out a shaky breath as you kissed, and your hands trailed down to his chest. Something about this sparked something inside you, ignited a flame that was destined to burn for a lifetime. He parted your lips open, his tongue infiltrating your mouth smoothly. You let out a moan, causing him to deepen the simple kiss into something much more…sinister.

“Do you feel something now?” he hummed against your lips desperately. His hands gripped your jaw, the tips of his fingers tangling into the hairs at the base of your ears. “Please tell me that I make you feel something.”

“You do,” you mumbled breathlessly, your hand gliding up his cheek. He leaned into your touch as if he were deprived of it. Maybe he was. Maybe he wanted to kiss you like this for a while, to touch you like this for a while. Maybe, just like you, he ached to feel something, too. “God, Mingi, only you can make me feel this way.”

You looked at each other in between kisses. His eyes were lustful, yet, they looked like they could tear up any moment. You didn't know what you looked like to him, so you leaned in again, delicately pressing your lips to his. He wrapped his arms around you, his forehead pressing against yours as he kissed you more and more and more. 

He pulled back ever so slowly; his eyebrows knit together, his brown irises dead center on your eyes. He spoke a million words without ever opening his mouth or even parting his lips. You smiled at him, feeling more like yourself than you've ever felt before. 

He lit up your soul.

His eyes asked you kindly. You agreed with a soft nod, and then he whisked you away into bliss. 

He carried you with grace through the dark hall, dropping you on his bed. Your back hits the cold duvet, sending chills down your spine. For a moment, he just gazes down at you, the only source of light being the floor lamp in the corner of the room. His expression was one you understood for once—he was full of emotion, and he made you feel safe.

He sucked in a breath, and you watched intently as he lifted his shirt slowly over his head. He was nervous—obviously nervous, and you wondered why such a big, strong, stone-like man would be scared of something like this. You were confident he’d done this before—he had to have. 

“I won't bite you,” you breathed, looking up at him with your soulful eyes. However, your innocence only went so far here. You've been watching him for ages, trying not to feel this…whatever this was. A mix of love, lust, longing, belonging….and he finally saw you. 

You were going to eat him up if he let you, of course.

He let out a shaky laugh, standing there so delicately powerful. His muscles rose and fell in the shadows of the dark, his skin looking ever so soft. You sat up on the bed, reaching out to him. You gripped his waistband, pulling him into you. He breathed in as your fingertips touched the bare skin of his waist, and he held his breath as you pushed past that waistband….down his underwear, to find…

Holy fucking shit. 

That’s literally going to obliterate your insides.

You must've looked shocked because he suddenly pulled himself away from you. “W-what? Is something wrong?”

You blinked up at him, tilting your head. You couldn't help but let out a laugh, to which he looked even more confused.

He looked distressed, so you stood up from the bed and walked up to him. He towered over you more than you've ever realized. You stood there in front of him for a moment that seemed to last forever, his eyes frantically searching for your explanation.

“Is something wrong with it—”

“Mingi,” you breathed, basically moaned, his name as you fiddled at the hem of your shirt. He watched your hand, gulping. “You may just kill me with that.”

You flung your shirt across the room, and your hands then danced at your waist to undo your pants. 

He frowned, confused. “Kill you? How—”

Your pants dropped to the ground, and you kicked them aside. You were left in your underwear—a pretty pink set you've kept in your drawer for ages for a moment like this. You completely got him starstruck.

You watched his mouth part as he stared at your body. “What…uh,” he swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair. “I…” You stepped closer to him, gliding your hand to hold his cheek; he shut his eyes and leaned into your touch, taking a deep breath. 

You leaned forward, on the tips of your toes. “Are you going to take the rest off, or am I gonna have to do it for you, scaredy cat?” you teased, pressing a kiss to his neck. He shivered, his hands instinctively gripping onto your hips.

His eyes were lustful, his gaze ripping right through you like a knife would tear a heart. It was as if you offended him, and he grit his teeth as he slid your bra right over your head with one hand.

You smirked, your hands running up the sides of his face to run through his gorgeous hair. You found pleasure in his reactions—the way he savored his feelings as he closed his eyes.

“Is this your first time?” he whispered weakly as your lips found a home under his jaw. “Because I have a feeling it isn't—”

“And if it is?” you interrupted him, still creating your mark on his neck. “Will you not fuck me?”

“Oh, dear god,” he huffed, letting out a groan. He shoved you onto the bed, your back once again hitting the covers. This time, it felt even colder. “Where the hell did you get that mouth of yours?”

You tried to breathe, but you no longer remembered how to. “Why, do you not like it?”

He didn't answer you with words. Instead, he unbuttoned his pants, his hard-on begging to break through his underwear. You laid there, your breasts on full display for him, and your stomach tightened as you saw his dick after he took everything off.

“Oh….” you gulped, raising your eyebrows in hopes that he didn't see your worry. You've never had sex, only with your own fingers, and as you looked down at his massive cock, there was no way in hell that was fitting inside you.

In fact, it turned you on just thinking about how…big he was. How he stood with confidence, turning red, his body physically showing his attraction to you, blood pumping, sweat pooling to the surface of his skin.

His size….you've always been obsessed with his size—it surrounded your every thought. This was the cherry on top of your fantasies.

He knelt over you, his body warmth making you even hotter. You felt his erection press against your thigh, and you shamelessly moaned, meeting his flaming gaze.

“By kill, I mean,” you breathed in, pausing. “I mean, that dick of yours is like a goddamn weapon.”

His face was right over yours, and you watched a sinister smile fill his features. “Is that so?” he whispered, dipping his head to kiss your lips. You moaned into the kiss, biting his bottom lip as he pulled back.

“Mhm,” you whimpered as his dick pressed against your panties, and you ached for him to take them off. He was too captivated by your breasts to even think about the fact that they were still on. You looked down at his hands, and oh, they just completely encapsulated you, mind and body, body and soul. You wished for him to suck the living life out of you, to choke you until you saw whatever was beyond this life, if there was anything. His hands alone caused you to daydream about them bringing death to you and being pleasured by the hands of death. They were so large, so soft, so gentle. You wanted him to manhandle you, to tear you apart, to rip your heart in two and then sew it back together. Your mind was just rambling on now, but one thing was for sure.

You were in love with him.

“Mingi,” you whispered, wrapping your hand around his arm that worshiped your breasts. His eyes met yours, madly, desperately. “Take every part of me.”

He wasn't sure how to respond, and you knew it. He did, however, understand your request, and he kissed you from your breastbone to the mounds of skin, down your stomach, finally reaching where he needed to be. He kissed you there, right there, and you felt his hot breath radiate through the thin fabric. It was gone before you knew it, and he lined himself up on top of you, his chest heaving from breathlessness and desire.

His silvery-grey hair nearly looked black in the moonlight, shining smoothly. He made you happy, everything about him.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he spoke against your lips, the tip of his dick pressing against your entrance. You closed your eyes tightly as his thick cock slid into you. 

“I like the pain,” you said.

Your eyes watered, but the sound of his pleasure made everything better. Truthfully, you discovered something about yourself that you never knew. You loved that he was big. You loved how his cock still had length outside of you, even as he stuck himself fully in. You watched as he moved in, moved out, how his hips bucked against yours, and how he held you underneath him, tenderly, like he was afraid to shatter you like glass. You were his throne, his home, and he was your everything.

“Ah,” you hissed; this never felt before feeling tingling your insides, your stomach filling up with his length. You gripped onto his shoulder blades, tearing into his skin as he sped up. He seemed to like how you inflicted pain, and you continued to pierce his skin, carving your mark like writing initials into tree bark. 

It was bliss, your first time. The feeling of him pumping into you was addictive—you were sure you were going to want this every day for the rest of your life. You arched your back into him, wrapping your legs around him as you felt yourself reach your climax. You've never felt one before, and it was intoxicating. His breaths quickened along with his movements, and his hips rocked back and forth slightly, hitting new spots for your body to learn. He was your tutor, your teacher. Your daydream and your nightmare. You revolved around him as if he were your sun and you were his moon.

His expression changed as he looked at you—eye contact and all. You've never felt so intimate with someone your entire life, and strangely enough, despite your usual ignorance of emotions, you wanted to bask in this feeling forever. To gaze into his eyes forever. Maybe it was your youth; maybe it was your first life. 

“You're so beautiful,” he praised, his face contorted in pleasure. His tone of voice sent ripples through your body—it was deep, raspy. It rumbled through you, all around you. You loved his voice. You loved it so much that you wanted him to speak more and more and more.

“Say that again,” you moaned, sweat dripping down your temple as the top of your head hit the headboard. “Please.”

“You,” he breathed, lifting one of your legs up to burrow in you deeper— as if it were possible with the size of his dick. He hit a new spot, causing you to toss in his embrace, begging for more. “...You are beautiful.”

“God fuck, Mingi,” you quite literally snarled, gripping his shoulders to switch positions, you now sitting right on top of him. You looked down on him, finding gratification in his sexily fatigued expression. His eyes were barely open, his chest heaving, his hands gripping the sheets. “I love the sound of your fucking voice.”

And with that, you began to ride him, watching his features twist with such interesting emotions you've never seen before. When he began to breathe quicker and quicker, you watched how his eyes widened, how his big, veiny but gentle hands came up to fist your hair. You cried out, eyes watering, pain sparking down your neck—but you loved it. 

He grabbed you by the hair and shoved you onto your stomach, face full of pillow and the sweet smell of Mingi’s hair wash. You closed your eyes as he re-entered you, his hands putting pressure on the small of your back.

And as he let out a deep, bone-crushing moan, you squeezed your thighs together tightly. He pulled out quickly, and came on your back, painting himself all over you.

The only sound through the silence was the huffing of your breaths, your face flushed, hidden from him. He let out a slight, rumbly laugh—music to your ears.

“I’ll go grab a towel,” he spoke softly, his fingertips dancing down the side of your waist as if he were appreciating your structure. 

He cleaned you up with such softness as if this weren't the man that was just fisting your hair and slamming his dick into you. You lay in his bed, naked, your stomach aching, your legs weak. 

He laid next to you, his shower he had just taken before this turned utterly pointless, his body covered in sweat. His hair stuck to his forehead, and you reached out, brushing it up. You smiled at him as he stared at you with fascination.

And then, in the comfort of his embrace, you fell asleep, dreaming of him.

—

When you awoke in the morning, he was no longer there.

Your youthful mind didn't jump to conclusions—you slowly rolled out of his California king and picked up his huge t-shirt, tossing it on without anything else. It drowned you, down to your knees like you expected, and you giggled in bliss. It smelled like him.

When you stepped into the kitchen, you saw a cup of steaming coffee on the island. Mingi was facing away from you, the back of his head messy, silver hair standing up everywhere.

“Good morning,” you mumbled, standing awkwardly in the doorframe. He quickly turned around, a goofy smile plastered on his face. 

You felt the rush of blood reach the tips of your ears.

He inspected your outfit—or his outfit—and that goofy smile widened even more. “My shirt, huh?”

You wrapped your arms around your body. “It was the first thing I picked up.”

“I like it,” he smirked, walking over to you, his arms taking the place of yours. “I love it, actually.”

You embraced him, feeling finally happy. “You're a lot more colorful than usual,” you acknowledged, feeling his heartbeat through his chest. 

“You must've painted me in a new light,” he hummed, resting his head on the top of yours. 

You tried to escape his embrace, but he tightened it, shaking his head. “You're not leaving me.”

You giggled, trying to playfully push him away. “Mingi, what time is it?”

He paused. “Uh….”

You pulled back, looking into his eyes. Your own eyes widened.

“School, oh my god, we forgot about school!”

—

You held Mingi’s large hand as you sprinted down the road to your school. After a pit stop at your home for your uniform and a blissful moment of a makeout outside the door, you barreled as fast as you could, knowing you were gonna get punished. Even so, you laughed the whole way, and when your tardiness landed you in detention, you couldn't of been happier to end up in a room with Mingi.

The teacher left the room for a moment, and as the door shut, Mingi launched out of his seat and attacked you with his lips, his hands in your hair, his teeth clashing with yours as he smiled as wide as ever.

The next day, you watched him sit in the sunlight in homeroom, noticing his hair shine—the same head of hair you ran through as he made love to you a few nights before.

He liked sitting by windows. It brought a curl to your lips, as his dreary-looking ass always was lit up by the sunlight. 

He was the moon during the day, right before the sun sets. And you, well, you were finally a star in his almost-night sky.

—

Winter break was approaching. Students were talking. You didn't care, and neither did he. In fact, he made it painfully obvious, sitting next to you with every chance he got, touching you as much as he could, smiling so wide it was unlike his usual persona.

The question dwindled over your head. Many people asked you, talked to you, and inquired about your relationship with him. You didn't exactly know what to tell them—you never actually labeled whatever this was. Whatever it was, it didn't matter to you, as it just mattered that you were blissfully happy for however long it may last. You were going to enjoy this time you had with him, knowing that college was approaching.

“Y/n!” a loud voice boomed through the study hall class, a few students turning their heads in confusion. You met eyes with Yunho, one of Mingi’s best friends. You frowned, confused as to why he was calling for you. There was no teacher as the class didn't start yet, so you weren't too alarmed.

“What?” you asked him.

He took a sharp breath in, hands on his knees like he ran a marathon. “It’s Mingi—he got hurt on his way to school—”

You stood up quickly, eyes wide. “What? Where is he?”

“In the nurses—”

You didn't even give him a chance to finish his sentence. You ran down the hall, even though class was about to start. 

You let out a loud breath when you reached the nurse’s office. “Mingi? Are you okay—”

With a tight grip on your wrist, he tugged you into the office, slamming the door behind you.

He stood there, perfectly fine, with a boyish smile on his face.

You hit his chest. “What the hell? I thought you were hurt?”

He giggled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. “Mmh. No, I just wanted to do this.” he kissed you again, his hands tilting your chin up with such tenderness. 

You smiled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You're such a sneak.” 

“Do you want me to kiss you in front of everyone?” he teased, pecking your nose and then your lips. “Because I will.”

You chuckled, kissing him more. “It’ll  probably clear up all the rumors about us,” you shrugged, ruffling his hair as you kissed him again.

“People are so nosy,” he mumbled. “Can't two people date in peace?” 

You pulled back in his embrace, a glimmer of mischief in your gaze. “Oh?” you tilted your head, and as he went in for another kiss, you pressed a finger to his lips. “Were dating, huh?”

He blinked as if you said something completely insane. “Huh?” he furrowed his brows. “Haven't we been dating?”

You smirked, teasing him. “Since when?”

He scoffed, but still held onto you. “Uh, since I literally fucked the living shit out of you?”

You laughed at his vulgarity, pressing your lips to his in a long, sensual kiss. “So were dating now?”

“I thought you knew that.”

“How would I know that if you never said it?”

“Because you're the fucking valedictorian, y/n.”

You stared at his confused face, smiling wider than you've ever smiled. “Okay,” you nodded, watching his eyes sparkle down at you. “Boyfriend.”

“Girlfriend,” he giggled like a child, grabbing both your cheeks and kissing you over and over again. “My girlfriend.”

You never saw yourself as cheesy and didn't see him as the cheesy kind, either. But there you were, in each other's arms in the run-down, empty nurses office, blissfully unaware of how the future will work out for you. But now was the time, not then, not when. It was now, and now you loved him. 

You were his tutor, his happiness, his light, even if you never thought you could ever brighten up someone’s life. 

It was this moment— you declared that you were utterly, irrevocably in love with him. He was all you thought about, all you noticed.

The future isn't guaranteed, but you both will live on, together maybe, who knows? You were young and in love, but who says it won't work? Your hearts will live for each other, whatever the future brings you.

He was the daydream to your nightmare.

[milo-mars]

|12 Days of Drabbles| |Day 3: Last Stop|

{ArtStudent!Hongjoong X Male!Reader}

{Plot; Hongjoong is on a bus to an art exhibit when a certain someone falls asleep on his shoulder.}

{Word count; 670}

{Tags; Non-idol au, male reader, Fluf, Awkward situations (they cute tho)}

Hongjoong threw away his plastic coffee cup in the trash, and with his book bag’s strap on his shoulder, he went aboard the bus; it would only be a good 20 minutes to the nearest art exhibit. “Hey, is it fine if I sit here?” Another guy, Hongjoong guessed was around his age, asked with a polite smile; he looked almost as tired as Hongjoong was; he probably hadn’t had any coffee like Hongjoong had earlier. “Yeah.” Hongjoong replied, and the other man slumped down in the seat beside Hongjoong and rested his head back; his fluttering eyelids told Hongjoong he was trying not to doze off.

The next few minutes proved to be a bit of a snooze fest for the stranger next to Hongjoong; he was asleep faster than a kid on Christmas Eve, and he took it as his cue to really look at the man. His features and form intrigued Hongjoong, and his questions grew as he looked at him with a studious gleam in his eyes. Why was this guy so sleepy? Was he a student at some university or school like Hongjoong was?. His pencil pressed onto the paper of his notebook in the shape of the man before he realized it; artists drew strangers all the time; Hongjoong drew countless art models in his classes as well; besides, it wasn’t like Hongjoong was going to use this sleeping stranger’s face in a major project; it was only practice. As Hongjoong’s pencils drew out to his heart's content, he felt a sudden weight on his shoulders; he didn’t need to turn to see the stranger's head was now resting against him. He took a moment to take in the awkwardness of the moment; there was no doubt anyone else on the nearby seats didn’t notice.

Hongjoong found himself in an odd crossroads his lonely heart didn’t think he’d have to face; the bus was only five minutes from the art museum by now, and he also didn’t know how long this stranger was planning on taking a nap for, but the prospect of having to physically move the man’s head from his shoulder made him anxious. Waking up to find a stranger cradling your face wasn’t a situation anybody would want to find themselves in; Hongjoong considered if it was more or less awkward than the man waking up to find his head on a stranger’s shoulder and making him uncomfortable. But he didn’t even want to wake him up; he had to admit this guy resting on him had quite the looks. Did that only make things feel more awkward to Hongjoong? Yes.

As the bus halted to a stop, Hongjoong’s anxiety nearly skyrocketed; he had to get off or else he’d miss his stop, but he couldn’t let this man next to him remain a stranger. Luckily the bus driver honked, which startled the stranger awake, his eyes rapidly blinking away his unrest. “OH, sorry about that. I assume this is your stop?” “Yeah, it is.”  Hongjoong got up and almost left until his gut made him face the stranger again. “Do you want to come with me?- I mean, I was just going to grab some more coffee and, um—

“Sure, I was just going to the art exhibit here as well. We should go together. The stranger Got up, and they headed out the bus and onto the pavement; Hongjoong’s heart felt like it was soaring. “My name’s Y/N, by the way.”  He smiled again at Hongjoong; this Y/N really was a heartthrob if he could make Hongjoong flustered at the mere thought of them having a shared passion for art. “I’m Hongjoong.”  He responded before he made things awkward; Y/N and Hongjoong shook hands. “I know a great place nearby; I always go before heading to the exhibit.”

As Hongjoong followed close beside Y/N to his favorite coffee shop, he couldn’t help but think about how lucky he was to run into someone like him on his last stop.

[unique-high]

this is how you fall in love | Intro

Mingi x fem! tomboy blk reader.

no warning tags.

More about Mingi's ff.

Go here for CHAPER ONE

The sun was shining brightly, but raindrops were falling from the sky. You're in Mingi's bed. He felt nice with his warm skin against yours. Your fingertips softly drag down his bare back. Mingi snored loudly and oddly you find it to be soothing.

There was no romantic involvement between you and Mingi. But with how your bodies are in close proximity, with his arm and leg draped over you; It was evident that there was a connection between you both, despite ignoring the truth.

Mingi’s presence in your life was like a warm summer’s day and he was like cold rain. The boy you hated now became the boy you wanted. And for Mingi, it was the same.

The hate could have been something else that you were too afraid to explore any deeper.

And for Mingi, it wasn’t even hate anymore. He wasn’t sure if it was hate, to begin with.

 It was love. 

And being a teenager in love wasn’t like how it’s depicted in some movies. It’s messy and confusing; when you’re torn between your heart and what you’re feeling.

 Mingi vents to his best friends about how stupid love is. But you were the definition of that stupid love. When he was alone, all his thoughts were about you and every sappy love song, he heard was about you too. 

You breathe in his scent. He smelt of sweat and the outdoors. Mingi had played soccer earlier in the day and didn’t have time to shower when you showed up at his house crying because you and your dad had gotten into an argument. Comforting you was more important than a shower for Mingi. Besides, he thought he would take one after you calmed down, but you two ended up in his bed.

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

A/N: So I started off with an intro chapter because the first chapter I wrote was ass and I deleted it. Regrets thoooo. 🙂

I don't have a set schedule of when I'll update. But I'm hoping I can every Sunday. 🤔

BTW I do take requests if you all ever want to request anything anime or Kpop or just whatever with blk reader. (No smut, sorry)

[haolovre]

secrets hidden in you

“they all say that park seonghwa, the most popular and dangerous person in the school doesnt have a heart, does he?”

student! ateez

this series can contain:bullying, beating up, blood, fluff, drugs, smoking, swearing

this is all fiction! nothing is real!!

masterlist of this serie

second day

U get woken up by ur alarm, as u growl u got up and went to the bathroom room. u check the clock 7:30 AM. Well u have enough time. U brush ur teeth and shower. then u check the clock 8:00 AM u put your clothes on and went down to eat breakfast. “Honey i made pancakes! U should go at 8:30 so hurry abit before u miss the bus” “mhm alright mom thanks!”

u ate ur breakfast and went to the bus stop. as u were right on time the schoolbus was there. u went to the school bus to see ateez only in the bus. u went to sit in the front as ateez was sitting in the back. “Hey new girl, wanna sit with us” a male voice said. thank goodness u had ur headphones on so u could pretend u couldnt hear them. U heard footsteps coming at u, then ur headphones were taking of “hey! what the fuck was that for” “oh~ so u were listening to music, thats why u didnt answer my question” u looked up who u were talking to.

choi jungho-

“oh im sorry, but my music is pretty loud so i didnt hear u” “ohh~” he smirked “excuses , excuses, excuses. dont have to lie to me” he put your headphones on. He was quite shocked at the music u checked ur phone. now playing: guerilla - halateez. Know u get why he was shocked. He drew the headphones on ur lap and went back to the group. As u were finally at school (well not finally but yk) u thanked the driver and went to the gates to be greeted by sooha. “Heyy girly well haeyoung is sick sadly. People saw newjeans put something in her waterbottle” “naur way poor her hopefully she gets better” u signed “well u still have me! And great news the cheer club had accepted u!!” “oh my days ur kidding” “im not~ well we both have the same classes but the training is today at 5:00 pm u’ll get ur uniform there so dont worry! And the coach is amazing so no stress” mhm alright u said to urself “well maybe lets get going will be late if we keep standing here.” “Alright lets get going. Literature it is” sooha said sadly. U two went to literature, yeahyeah boring stuff we’ll skip that part. “Well we have self study now so lets-“ sooha got interrupted by something.. well poor u got ice bucketed by newjeans and ateez. u heard them laughing “oh my days lets go to the medic before u catch a cold” sooha took ur arm and ran to the medic but got stopped by a male figure. “Well i can bring her” he smiled as u looked up who it was.

kang yeosang.

“No. U did this to her-“ as yeosang picked u up and threw soohas arm off urs. as he walked to the clinic. “Yeosang u better not do anything to her” sooha screamed to him “yeahyeah ill take care of her dont worry” he responded looking at u with a caring smile. As the school doctor looked at u and gave u a new uniform so u’ll not catch a cold. “Thank u yeosang for bringing her. I was scared for her that she’ll actually catch a cold” he softly laughed “mhm its oke ms hwang” u came out thanked the doctor and went out. “Wait ur not going to thank me i literally brought u here” u stared at him “u did it for ur reputation.” As u walked off u see the ateez and newjeans looking at u and yeosang. U went to the library to see sooha by herself doing the biology assignment. “ oh there u are! I was worried . did yeosang do anything to you?” She sounded a worried mother “no no he did nothing, just brought me so his reputation is high” “ew that player, well im working on my assignment so maybe do urs too” “mhm alright, weres beomgyu?” “Oh he has a other lesson then us.” Great ur only partner is park seonghwa “oh well im not doing it with seonghwa” “did u call my name?”

u looked to see seonghwa and yeosang at the entrance of the library. “Thank god i could get out of that group, minji keeps clinging on me like a fly” seonghwa said now walking to u “well we should work on the project, no?” “Yeah alright move a chair here so u can sit” as seonghwa went to get a chair, yeosang came up too u “ heard u were the new cheerleader well be cheering for me and seonghwa yeah?” u looked at him as u wanted him dead “gosh im joking comeon” as seonghwa came back with two chairs so yeosang could sit too. U and seonghwa were doing pretty well on the poster. As u never thought that seonghwa could be helpful. But then the bell went. “Oh well its best me and yeo get going see u around y/n” as both male figures waved goodbye and left. “Well~ how did it went” sooha asked “went better then i expected def”

time skip to the end of the last class

“YN LETS GO WE NEED TO GO TO PRACTICE”this girl has energy for days😞 “alright alright! im coming” u went to the coart were the cheer coach was. “Ohh u must be the new cheer member! yn right?” u nodded” well welcome to wave cheer club! here are the uniform” it was a blue cheer uniform and the pompoms were blue with gold “ well practice start in 10 minutes!!” u look over the bleachers to see someone staring at u, but u couldn’t recognize the face as it turned away quickly.

After practice u go to ur locker seeing alot of love notes in it. U were kinda surprised seeing the fall down. U didnt want to make a mess so u quickly put them all in ur bag. Ur surprised that it all fitted in

. U go home by bus and opened every love letter. All of these letters had something common. There signed with 0304. U looking confused but said to urself u’ll read them tomorrow.

—next—

[ldysmfrst]

HI, wanted to check in, we didn't hear from you for a while, how are you? Btw how's American mate going, any new chapters in mind? Take care♡

Hello @sunshinecallie!! Thank you for checking in on me. Things have been kind of everywhere with the family member passing away, the broken foot, and other things.

American Mate: Chapter 8 will be posted a little later this morning. I am very excited to see how it will be received by all of my dear readers. I am already working on Chapter 9, which is currently counting at over 8k words.

Breaking and Entering: Chapter 8 was waiting for a Patreon Membership poll to be completed before I could start writing it. So that will start soon.

I am also working on a One-Shot, which may end up being a Mini-Series, which was requested of me by a Patreon Membership holder for an Ateez San x Plus sized y/n. That is currently at over 5k words.

Again thank you so very much for checking in on me. I hope you are doing well and will enjoy the upcoming content!

💜💜💜

[keopihaus]

Grab a cup of coffee and settle in—newly added: Still Loving You by @xomakara

linda my bb!!! congrats on 1k again, you're incredible and im so happy for you ilysm 🩵

now you know i need #1 with san please pretty please with a cherry on top (again ILYSM!!!)

Still Loving You [Hearts Unfolded: XOMAKARA's 1K Event]

SUMMARY | Two high school sweethearts reunite at a mutual friend’s wedding after years apart. PAIRINGS |  San x Reader RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked GENRE |  smut, slight pwp, romance, old flames, reunion CONTENT/WARNINGS | wedding vibes, romantic sex, literally lovemaking, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), vaginal penetration, riding LENGTH |  1,801 words TAGLIST |   @heechwe, @lovetaroandtaemin, @pars-ley NETWORKS |  @illusionnet @cromernet @othersideoutlawsnetwork @winerys-collection @cosyhomenet @keopihaus @ksmutsociety @k-vanity AUTHOR’S NOTE | thank you so much lexi! ilysm too and once again, congrats to the 3k 🥰 I know you didn't specify nsfw but I know your mind haha. It's not as filthy or as long as my other fics but I know you'll still love it. Much love 💛💚

Want to join the event? The rules are here → Hearts Unfolded: XOMAKARA'S 1K EVENT

event masterlist here → HU: Masterlist

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

Everything felt right at this moment.

You in his arms, the romantic music of the orchestra filling the whole place, bodies pressed against each other as couples swayed and twirled, lost in their own worlds. All you wanted to do was melt, completely melt, in the comfort that was his arms, never again to be torn apart from one another.

When you parted ways during your high school graduation to live different lives, to go on to college, promising to always stay in touch through text, phone and video chats, a lot of time had passed. Despite your promise, letters weren't written, texts and calls were short and few, and it eventually became an old habit of neither party, much to both of your regret. It was only a stroke of luck that put you both back in the same place at the same time.

By coincidence, or some force of destiny, at this very wedding of mutual friends, was the man you had fallen in love with all those years ago, now having grown and matured from the youthful teenager you remembered and even grown to have the mature features of a fine-looking, eligible man.

"San?" you whisper his name into his ear. "This is really happening, right? You and me together again?"

"Yeah," he smile. "If...that's what you want, of course..."

You smile in the embrace of your shared dance. "No way am I letting you slip out of my fingers again."

As the song drew to an end, so too did the entire ballroom. The DJ put his disc on a brief break to enjoy the evening, and most guests stepped outside onto the expansive patio to get some fresh air and chat more freely. Taking your hand in his, San leads you outside the large venue into the bright night time, and there wasn't any other way to describe the feeling except for heavenly.

It had been so long. His touch felt just like back when you were kids – gentle, sweet and loving.

The two of you had a lot to catch up on, but as fate would have it, fate also had plans in store as you stared out towards the sunset. You both walk into a flower patch, your eyes shifting towards him to notice how his brown eyes watched your every move, but still walking silently in step with one another, savoring the sight of this wonderful moment.

His mind was swimming, filled to the brim with memories and emotion as well as a deepened admiration for the woman walking beside him. He adore everything about you: how kind you were, your beauty, everything. This reunion was something straight out of a dream.

In one smooth movement, San pulls you to his chest, catching you off guard as you're smothered in his scent of masculinity and warmth, then finally feeling his soft lips on top of your hair. "You...remember, right? The first time you kissed me?" he murmur against the crown of your head.

Slowly, you nod and let out a gentle giggle. "Of course. How could I forget? We were both sixteen...and sitting under that giant tree by your house in the moonlight," you remember, moving his palm to press it to your beating heart.

"Can we start this over?" He says, tipping your chin up gently. His eyes were locked on yours, and it took everything he had not to cry right here and now. His thumb ran circles against your lower lip, watching in amazement as they naturally opened up, as if welcoming him to have his fill of what he wants to do most. "I never stopped loving you..."

You never stopped loving him too, and you only needed a brief nod of confirmation before his other hand settled firmly on the nape of your neck, your breath hitching the very second his soft lips made contact with yours. He kissed you deep, sweet, his arms circling around your body and pressing you closer to his, desperate to be rid of the space and distance between your bodies.

"S-San..." his name escapes you as you come up for a much needed breath, gasping at the feeling of his erection poking at you through the fabrics of clothing.

The boy you used to know was no more – he had become a man now.

"Did I go too far?" His eyes were gentle, face worried, hands held up in apology. "We can stop if you're uncomfortable—"

"No...I..." your hands gripped tightly at his sides. "Let's not...stop."

"Mm..." His smile was wider than his kiss and the touch of his hand as it grabs your own and pulls you somewhere else, away from the prying eyes of other wedding-goers.

The only thing on San's mind was the urge to pick up right where the both of you left off years prior, as if nothing had changed. His lips went back to yours in an instant as you had moved indoors, towards his hotel room that was thankfully adjacent to the venue.

Your back hits a closed door behind the privacy of your surroundings and San's arm nudges the doorknob open without ever breaking contact, stumbling inside as he latches his mouth back against yours, trying to soothe the burning of the kiss you had shared together earlier.

"Do you want to continue?" He asks you, bringing your lips away from his again. Both of your breaths were harsh, but there was no other way you'd rather have it. "Tell me you want this as much as I do. As much as I've wanted...I want to love you the way I should have before we split apart."

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling his mouth close to yours. "Make love to me," you plead.

It didn't take a word. The command itself was understood, and by a simple nod of his head, his lips had you. You melt at the slow strokes of his lips moving over yours, slowly kissing and tugging at the edge of your lower lip as he softly pushes you onto the bed.

His lips parted from yours momentarily, just long enough to give him a moment to look at you through half-lidded eyes and then he let out a sigh when you cupped his cheek, wanting desperately to capture your lips again.

You pull his face down, guiding it until your mouth connects with his in an affectionate kiss. Your hand slips lower to brush along his jaw, and when you reach his neck you grab the back of his shirt, leaning backward slowly, prompting him to lay his weight over you. Your mouths had moved, the soft suckling and breathing noises filled the room and as his hands groped for the zipper at the back of your dress.

Suddenly, you laugh.

"What's so funny?" He peered down at you. You grin, unable to help the peals of laughter spilling from your throat as you tap his shoulder.

"Oddest thing," your laugh turns into a smile that reaches your eyes as you gaze fondly up at his face. "Remember that you used to have a difficult time getting me out of my uniform? Always tugging on that button of my blouse, never able to do it because you were too nervous," your smile turns coy when you roll him over onto his back, and crawl on top of his form. "Too bad, I just always ended up being the one who did it for you. Must've been awkward for you when I kept taking my own clothes off, right?"

"Hey, that was your choice..." he lets out a small chuckle.

He allows you to roam his body with your touch, wondering how many lovers he might've taken since your years of absence, but deciding to push the thoughts out of your head. No matter how much time had passed or how many others San had embraced before, all of that didn't matter, you were here with him now, ready to be one with him once again.

It felt like things were moving too fast as your dress was thrown into a careless heap somewhere to the side, along with his trousers, and your upper bodies now laid bare, fully exposed to one another for the first time in years.

With a few more adjustments, it didn't take a minute, maybe even ten seconds, to line up and sink him deep, gasping and groaning softly the whole way, adjusting to the fullness of having him within you once more after so many years of waiting, yearning and hungering for each other.

San didn't move as he waited for you to adjust to his length, a deep grunt leaving his mouth the instant you wrap your arms around his head and bring your face near him to allow your lips to connect. He had craved and hungered for more of your affection all those years you've been separated and never forgotten, wanting to touch and love you more than anyone else, and you were his.

"Just give the word, baby," his lips spoke against yours, your thighs giving him a nice squeeze to spur him on as if to answer his request.

Slow and steady at the beginning, soon came with the intensity of both parties going into overdrive, hips connecting over and over to make you bounce on him, then flip you over onto your back as your head sunk into the comfort of the mattress with the springs creaking from the motion.

"I love you," he grunts. "So much. Every single day. Never stopped, not even once." His pace had gone rough and rapid.

He was pouring himself, body and soul, into you.

"Me too, San-ah," you whisper his name like it was a sacred chant, as you rode out wave after wave of euphoria, his thrusts becoming harder and deeper with every drop of your hips. "Please don't ever stop."

And he wouldn't. He wouldn't. Not ever.

You came at the same time, a rush of hot wetness in your belly that sent your legs into an uncontrollable tremble, his thrusts speeding up once he was about to burst, the erratic motions and speed soon sending you off into a climax not long after.

He collapses next to you after, watching in amazement the glow that cover your entire form, feeling nothing less than blessed in this moment. His lips met the corner of your jawline, nuzzling affectionately down the column of your neck before sighing. "Never gonna let you slip out of my hands ever again. Promise."

You gave a weak, contented laugh and pressed your lips to his before his weight settled next to you. "Guess you'll just have to show me, hm?"

He'd show you in a heartbeat.

[juyeoz]

˙ㅤ۪ 𓂋 FOR THE PLOT! — AN 02z SMAU

∿ THE PLOT IN QUESTION 📁 A crush from kindergarten, a classmate from second to fifth grade who you refused to admit you liked (even with a blushing face), and a childhood friend you never saw in any other way surrounded your school life. What if, the three boys you had forgotten about return to your life, and you can’t help but fall for all of them? Also, what if your feelings for these boys all existed at the same time?

∿ 📢 CASTING ≋ childhood-crush!jay, childhood-crush!jake, childhood-friend!sunghoon x fem!reader (ft. 02z + niki from enhypen, chaewon and yunjin from le sserafim, karina from aespa, juyeon and sunwoo from tbz, sohee from riize, nayeon from twice, rei from ive, seoyeon from fromis_9, belle from kiof, zhanghao from zb1, taehyun from txt, taeyoung from cravity, jaemin from nct dream, mingi from ateez, choi yena, and includes mention of other idols too)

∿ GENRES 🔗 › smau + written, childhood crushes/friends to lovers, highschool au, nonidol au, reverse but not so reverse harem, fluff, angst, and crack.

∿ CONTAINS 🔍 profanity, 02z aren’t the same age, random timestamps, kys/kms jokes, joking threats, no official faceclaim but images may be used, y/n goes on dates w all three boys (diff days), and y/n is lwk leading them on but they don’t get heartbroken (??).

∿ SCHEDULE 📰 completed (dec 27th, 2024 - mar 4th, 2025)

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

PROFILES › ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

CHAPTER ONE — let you break my heart again

CHAPTER TWO — WHAT THE FUCK IS TRIPLE BALL

CHAPTER THREE — chronicles of narnia 2 (0.6k words)

CHAPTER FOUR — jake?????? like nerdy boy jake?????

CHAPTER FIVE — #ResortToDominican

CHAPTER SIX — clock it

CHAPTER SEVEN — so basically diva down

CHAPTER EIGHT — cute 😊

CHAPTER NINE — need him miss him want him 💔💔

CHAPTER TEN — calm luh facial structure (0.4k words)

CHAPTER ELEVEN — MONTHLY REUNION (0.4k words)

CHAPTER TWELVE — for the 𝖕𝖑𝖚𝖍

CHAPTER THIRTEEN — a date?

CHAPTER FOURTEEN — “nah id win” ahh reply 😭🙏

CHAPTER FIFTEEN — panda enthusiast

CHAPTER SIXTEEN — keep laughing.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — blue icing cupcakes (0.6k words)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN — keep yourself on ur toenails

CHAPTER NINETEEN — SIKEEE YOU THOUGHT 😂😂🫵

CHAPTER TWENTY — because i know i did

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE — cute ay eff!

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO — even as a joke

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE — my fave soccer play

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR — #ourbad

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE — white roses (1.2k words)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX — i’m sorry (1.0k words)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN — start running hoon!!!!!

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT — FUCK YOU MR LEE

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE — death of him (1.2k words)

CHAPTER THIRTY — don’t hit him up 😆

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE — loving you from a distance

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO — mabagal (1.3k words)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE — U DOWNBAD FREAK

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR — Join me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE — UNSTOPPABLE FR 😂😂😂

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX — single and NOT able to mingle

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN — in love or mentally ill

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT — gave a fuck

CHAPTER THIRY-NINE — i’m going to reply to

ENDINGS (FORTY) — SUNGHOON JAKE JAY

COMPLETED!

© JUYEOZ

[edenesth]

The Secret Admirer

Pairing: school rival!San x fem!reader (featuring Wooyoung)

AU: high school au (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 14k

Summary: As a new transfer student in KQ High, you start receiving anonymous love notes and gifts that leave you both intrigued and confused. It becomes a secret admirer mystery at school and everyone has their theories about who it might be. Could it be your crush, Wooyoung, as you'd hoped or the annoying Choi San?

A/N: This is lowkey inspired by ATEEZ's The Real music video. San looked so good here, he's literally unreal.

ATEEZ Masterlist

Mingi let out a sigh filled with anxiety, his gaze fixed on the imposing school building that would be your new home. You pursed your lips, throwing an arm over his shoulder as best you could, your best friend towering over you by at least half a head.

"I'm really scared." He admitted, shoulders sagging under the weight of his apprehension.

In an attempt to ease his tension, you playfully nudged him on the head, "Oh, come on, Mingi. We didn't leave our old school behind just for you to remain scared here. I promise things will be better."

He managed a forced smile, wanting to show strength for your sake.

Your previous school was a nightmare, a toxic environment where bullies ruled the place, and even teachers struggled to maintain order. Wealthy students received special treatment, while the rest of the students became targets of the elite.

Poor Mingi had suffered the worst of it.

He endured relentless bullying that left him with severe anxiety.

As his best friend, you had done everything in your power to protect him, but the odds were stacked against you when you, like him and everyone else, were only from a regular-income family.

In the end, you two suffered together, united by the daily struggle.

You had talked to your parents about the situation, and together with Mingi's parents, they agreed to transfer both of you to a new and more promising school in the neighbourhood.

That's how you found yourselves standing before KQ High.

It was your first day at this new school, and while you were filled with optimism, Mingi still carried the weight of his old fears.

"Hey, no matter what happens, I'll be right here with you, okay?"

His genuine smile finally broke through, and he pulled you into a side hug, "Thanks, buttercup. You're the best."

You smirked and dramatically flipped your hair, "I know. Now, let's get going, dumbass. We can't afford to be late on our first day. Trust me, you don't want to be a laughingstock."

With his laughter accompanying you, you both headed towards the unknown, already feeling a little lighter and more hopeful about the new journey ahead.

Lucky for the two of you, the first period of the day turned out to be an unexpectedly pleasant surprise.

As you and Mingi settled into your seats in the classroom, you exchanged a look of amazement. This was already a stark contrast to your previous school, where you had grown accustomed to the oppressive atmosphere of fear and hostility.

Today, however, there were no bullies in sight, and the atmosphere felt refreshingly different.

Everyone in the class greeted you both with polite smiles and warm words of welcome upon your first meeting. It was as if they genuinely cared about their studies and the well-being of their fellow classmates.

The teacher, Mr. Kim, a kind and enthusiastic educator, introduced himself with a cheerful demeanour.

He took the time to get to know each student, making sure to pronounce everyone's names correctly and asking about their interests and aspirations.

It felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the apathetic instructors you had encountered before.

As the class began, you found yourself immersed in the subject matter, something that had rarely happened at your previous school. The other students seemed equally engaged, and there was an air of camaraderie as you all shared your thoughts and ideas.

During a group activity, you and Mingi teamed up with a couple of classmates, who were eager to include you in the discussion. They listened attentively to your input and shared their own insights. It was a stark departure from your past experiences of being isolated and ridiculed.

The minutes passed, and the first period drew to a close.

As you gathered your belongings, Mingi turned to you with a smile that reflected his growing sense of relief and happiness.

"Can you believe this, buttercup?" He whispered, his eyes wide with amazement, "No bullies, no weird stares, just normal people treating us like... well, normal people."

You returned his smile, "I know, Mingi. It's incredible. I think we might have finally found a place where we belong."

Mingi nodded, and together you both left the classroom, carrying a newfound sense of hope and optimism. The journey was just beginning, but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were on the right path, surrounded by classmates who were genuinely kind and a school where learning was valued above all else.

But perhaps you might have spoken a little too soon.

In the blink of an eye, a rather intimidating figure appeared before you just as you were making your way to your locker.

The collision was unavoidable, causing the stranger to drop his stack of books. You gasped, immediately bowing multiple times and apologising profusely, not wanting to escalate the situation.

Considering how kind everyone had been so far, you expected this guy to graciously accept your apology.

Oh boy, you couldn't have been more wrong.

Reality proved quite different as he responded with a withering glare, accompanied by a muttered curse under his breath. He then scoffed, "Sheesh, get yourself a pair of glasses if you can't see properly."

Your heart sank, and you could feel your optimism from earlier wavering. It seemed that not everyone was as welcoming as you'd initially thought.

Should've known things were too good to be true.

Not one to back down easily, you rolled your eyes and clenched your jaw in annoyance, "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that a rat crawled up your ass and died there, because what the heck, dude? There's no need to be rude, it was clearly just an accident."

Mingi's eyes widened at your audacious response, panicking.

He quickly grabbed your arm and attempted to pull you away, stammering, "N-no, she didn't mean that! We're new here, so she's not familiar with the rules yet. She reacts strangely to shock... ha ha... We'll just be on our way, sir."

You scoffed, tugging your arm stubbornly out of Mingi's grasp, determined to confront this douchebag, who you now knew as Choi San, thanks to his name tag. You huffed in irritation, "Sir? I think not. Stay put, Mingi. I've got this."

San responded with a smirk, his disbelief evident in his expression, "You? What are you going to do, Miss Smarty Pants?"

To your best friend's absolute chagrin, you rolled up your sleeves, sizing the bully up daringly, fully prepared to fight if necessary.

But before you could do or say anything rash, someone stepped in between you and San, "Whoa, whoa, calm down, let's all take a deep breath. There's no need to fight, I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding."

He turned to you after shooting San a quick glare in warning, "I apologise on behalf of my friend here. He's just having a rough day. I assure you, he's not always like this."

You wished you could respond with collected composure, but you were utterly captivated by the stunning young man who had just intervened. Mingi, sensing the atmosphere, joined you and bowed, "I'm truly sorry as well. She isn't usually like this, I promise."

The guy shook his head warmly, reassuring, "No, please, you have nothing to be sorry for."

While you were momentarily lost in admiration, your best friend took charge of the conversation on your behalf, "I heard you both are new?" The guy inquired, and Mingi nodded, introducing both of you.

He offered a friendly smile, "Oh, it's nice to meet you two. I'm Wooyoung, and this is San. We happen to be the president and vice president of the baseball club. Perhaps you could both come over and take a look once you've settled in."

Finally finding your voice upon hearing this invitation, you enthusiastically chimed in, "We'll definitely be there!"

San couldn't hide his annoyance, clearly vexed by your shift in demeanour due to his best friend's presence. After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Wooyoung, you went separate ways.

As you and Mingi walked home together after school that day, he couldn't help but express his concern.

He shot you a reproachful glance and said, "Seriously, you almost got into a brawl with San back there. You can't just let your temper get the best of you like that."

You took a deep breath, your expression softening as you explained.

"Mingi, I didn't want to fight. I just... I wanted to make sure we don't become targets like we were at our old school. Sometimes, you've got to let people know you're not someone to mess with so they'll leave you alone. It's not about aggression, it's about self-defence."

He sighed, realising your perspective, "I get it, buttercup, but let's try to handle these situations differently, okay? We're in a new place, and maybe things will be different here."

You nodded, understanding his point and promising to exercise more restraint in the future.

Just like your nickname, Mingi named you after the Powerpuff Girl who resembled you the most. While you enjoyed teasing him and playfully referring to him as your princess, you were like his protector; embodying the qualities of a tough hotheaded tomboy, much like the actual Buttercup.

The conversation then took a lighter turn as Mingi began talking about the president of the baseball club, "Did you see the way Wooyoung handled the situation? He's so cool. I hope I can be like him one day."

A dreamy smile crossed your face as you thought of the handsome baseball club president, "Yeah, Wooyoung is something else, isn't he? So confident and composed. It's like he's got this natural charm about him."

Mingi chuckled, catching the starry look in your eyes, "Someone's got a little crush, huh?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, but there was no denying it – there was something undeniably captivating about Wooyoung that had left an impression on both of you.

As you continued your walk home, you wondered what other adventures and encounters awaited you in this new and intriguing chapter of your high school life.

A week had passed since you and Mingi had started attending KQ High, and things were shaping up quite well.

The two of you had managed to make some new friends here and there, and the best part was that you could finally focus on your studies without the looming fear of being bullied.

As you both sat down for lunch in the school courtyard, the sun shining brightly overhead, you felt a sense of contentment. The atmosphere was different here, and it was refreshing to know that you could be yourself without constantly looking over your shoulder.

Mingi took a bite of his sandwich and then turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eye, "You know, I've been thinking. We should pay a visit to the baseball club soon."

You grinned, realising where he was heading with this, "I was just about to say that! I mean, Wooyoung and San did seem pretty cool, it wouldn't hurt to check out what the club is all about."

He nodded in agreement, excitement in his voice, "Exactly! We've literally already met the most important people in the club. Wooyoung's the president, and he's so sweet and welcoming. Plus, San's the vice president, he might not be as warm and fuzzy, but he's still part of the team."

You both chuckled at the thought of San's initial grumpy demeanour.

You were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps Wooyoung had been right, perhaps San was just having a bad day.

Your best friend continued, "Besides, I hear the baseball club is pretty popular here. It could be a great way for us to finally get more involved in school activities."

With a determined nod, you replied, "For sure. Let's finish our lunch, and maybe we can swing by the club after classes today. I guess it's about time we step out of our comfort zone and try doing what normal students do for a change."

His eyes lit up with enthusiasm as he agreed, "Sounds like a plan. Who knows, maybe we'll discover a hidden talent for baseball or make even more friends along the way."

As you both finished your lunch and chatted about your upcoming visit to the baseball club, you felt a sense of excitement for the adventures and friendships that awaited you at KQ High.

The afternoon sun was dipping low in the sky as you and Mingi made your way to the baseball club's practice field. You were both excited to see what the club had to offer and meet more of your new schoolmates.

However, as you approached the field, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Wooyoung was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, San was there to greet you and Mingi.

You tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach, reminding yourself that maybe San had just been having a bad day when you first met him.

As you approached, his expression remained stoic, and he barely acknowledged your presence. He turned to Mingi with a polite nod and said, "Hey, you're Mingi, right? I'm San, the vice president. Nice to meet you."

Mingi smiled and extended his hand, shaking San's, "Yeah, that's me. Nice to meet you too, San."

You felt a pang of frustration.

San had greeted Mingi with politeness, but when he turned to you, his demeanour shifted completely. He didn't offer a handshake or a smile; instead, he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"And who are you?"

The blatant hostility in his tone caught you off guard.

You felt your patience wearing thin as you replied, trying to maintain your composure as you gave him your name, "I'm Mingi's friend. We're both new here, and we wanted to check out the baseball club."

His response was a scoff and a dismissive wave of his hand, "Figures."

You exchanged a bewildered look with Mingi, who seemed equally taken aback by San's attitude. It was clear that the vice president had something against you, and it was infuriating to be treated so poorly when you had done nothing to provoke him.

Before the situation could escalate further, you decided to take the high road and simply said, "Well, we'll leave you to it then. Sorry for bothering you."

Mingi nodded in agreement, and you both turned to leave the baseball field, your excitement from earlier now replaced by disappointment and frustration.

You couldn't figure out why San had such a strong dislike for you.

A few days after your rather disheartening encounter with the vice president at the baseball club, you and Mingi were surprised to find Wooyoung approaching you both with a warm smile on his face.

He seemed genuinely apologetic as he began, "Hey, I heard about what happened when you first visited the club. I was away for a meeting that day, and I just wanted to apologise for San's behaviour. He was being unreasonable, and I've spoken to him about it. Sorry about that."

You exchanged a glance with Mingi, your initial tension easing at the club president's friendly demeanour, "No worries," Mingi replied diplomatically, "We understand that everyone has off days."

Wooyoung nodded appreciatively, then made an offer that took you both by surprise, "Well, how about I personally give you a tour of the club and introduce you to the other members? I promise you won't have any trouble with San this time."

You hesitated for a moment, your previous encounter with San still fresh in your mind. But the Wooyoung's sincere offer was hard to resist, and you nodded in agreement.

"Sure, that sounds great. Thank you, Wooyoung."

A few days later, you and Mingi met up with the club president at the baseball field.

He was as charming and friendly as ever, making you feel at ease. As he began to show you around and introduce you to the club members, you were impressed by the teamwork and talent on display.

But your anxiety resurfaced when you noticed San's presence.

Wooyoung had assured you that San would behave civilly, but as the tour continued, it became painfully clear that the club's vice president had no intention of including you in the proceedings.

He interacted with Mingi, offering insights and sharing stories about the club, but he completely disregarded your presence. It was as if you were invisible to him, and you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider.

You tried your best to remain composed and not let his behaviour get to you, but it was hard to enjoy the tour when you felt so excluded. Wooyoung noticed your discomfort but didn't address it directly, choosing to focus on showing you the positive aspects of the club.

Once the tour ended, you and Mingi thanked Wooyoung for his time and kindness, genuinely appreciating his efforts to make you feel welcome. But the unresolved tension with San lingered in the air, leaving you with mixed feelings about your visit to the baseball club.

After much contemplation, you and Mingi decided not to join any clubs for the time being, and instead, chose to focus on your studies and adapt to your surroundings first.

As the days turned into weeks at KQ High, your relationship with San seemed to evolve from animosity to outright rivalry.

Every interaction with him felt like a challenge, as he continuously sought to get on your nerves. He never missed an opportunity to one-up you, whether it was by bragging about his grades or teasing you for having slightly lower scores.

In the classroom, San always seemed to find a way to sit near you, making snide comments about your work.

If you scored well on a test, he would downplay it, claiming it was just luck. When your grades were slightly lower than his, he would never let you forget it, making sly remarks about your academic abilities.

Despite his childish behaviour, you were irritated by his constant need to compete. It was as if he couldn't stand the thought of you outperforming him in any way. Your rivalry with the vice president of the baseball club became the talk of the school, with classmates often teasing you both for your ongoing battles.

Amidst this rivalry, Wooyoung seemed to sense your frustration.

He became extra caring and attentive, making an effort to balance out his best friend's behaviour. The club president went out of his way to support you in your studies, offering to help you with difficult subjects and encouraging you to join extracurricular activities.

His kindness and understanding provided a stark contrast to San's behaviour, and you appreciated his efforts to make amends for his friend's actions. Wooyoung's friendship became a source of comfort and encouragement during your high school journey, and you found yourself growing closer to him as a result.

As time went on, you realised that despite the challenges posed by San's rivalry, you had a strong support system in Mingi and Wooyoung, who helped you navigate the ups and downs of high school life.

Your determination to succeed and prove yourself only grew stronger, fueled by the competitive spirit ignited by your rivalry with San.

During a brief break between classes, you were walking alongside Mingi, casually complaining about your favourite chocolate milk running out in the school cafeteria. It had become somewhat of a ritual for you to enjoy that chocolatey goodness during your short breaks, and its absence was deeply felt.

"I can't believe they ran out of my favourite milk again," You groaned to Mingi, shaking your head in disappointment, "It's like they always do it right when I need it the most."

Mingi, ever the empathetic friend, sighed in agreement, "I know, right? It's like they have a radar for when you're craving it."

As you approached your locker during the break, you prepared to grab your textbooks for the next class. However, when you opened your locker, you let out a surprised gasp.

Inside your locker, right next to your textbooks, was a carton of your favourite chocolate milk. You blinked in disbelief, your eyes widening, and your heart skipped a beat.

You reached for it and found a note attached.

Mingi's excitement was palpable as he watched your reaction, "What is it? Did someone leave you a surprise?" You pulled out the note and read it aloud, your voice filled with astonishment, "I hope your favourite milk can cheer you up. Enjoy!"

His eyes widened even more, and he couldn't contain his excitement, "Ooh, you have a secret admirer!" He exclaimed, his voice a little too loud for the quiet hallway. Your face flushed with embarrassment as the attention of your fellow students turned towards you.

You stammered, "I-I don't know who it could be."

Mingi grinned mischievously, putting two and two together, "Maybe it's someone from the baseball club, trying to impress you."

The thought had crossed your mind as well, but you couldn't be sure.

As the mystery of your secret admirer hung in the air, you felt a mixture of curiosity and delight. Who could it be that knew about your love for chocolate milk and wanted to make your day a little brighter?

As time passed, the mystery of your secret admirer deepened, and the gestures of affection continued to pour in.

Every day seemed to bring a new surprise, from your favourite snacks and drinks to essential items to get you through the day. The notes that accompanied these gifts grew sweeter by the day, and it was clear that this person knew you extremely well.

One day, you found a note that simply read, "I hope this makes you smile today," along with a bouquet of your favourite flowers.

Another time, a cosy scarf appeared in your locker with a note that said, "Stay warm and happy, always."

Your secret admirer seemed to anticipate your needs and desires, brightening your days with their thoughtful gestures. You felt a warm sense of connection with this mysterious person who seemed to know you so intimately.

Unbeknownst to you, your secret admirer had become the talk of the school.

Everyone had their own theories about who it might be, and gossip about the identity of this mysterious person spread like wildfire. Some speculated it was someone from the baseball club, while others believed it could be a classmate who had been secretly watching you from afar.

Throughout all of this, your rivalry with San continued.

He would often tease you about the "silly" gifts you were receiving, making fun of the person who would actually like you. Although his comments annoyed you, they also fueled your determination to uncover the identity of your secret admirer.

On the flip side, your bond with Wooyoung continued to grow stronger. He would occasionally do things that made your heart flutter, like lending you his jacket when you were cold or giving you his umbrella when you forgot to bring yours.

These gestures were so attentive and thoughtful that they set your crush on him into overdrive, something even Mingi wouldn't do.

As the days went by, the secret admirer mystery at school only intensified, and you found yourself torn between trying to solve the puzzle and cherishing the daily surprises that brightened your life.

One afternoon, as you and Mingi sat together in your favourite spot in the school courtyard, the topic of your secret admirer came up once again. Ever the imaginative friend, he threw out a series of wild suggestions, each more unlikely than the last.

"What if it's Seonghwa from the calligraphy club? I mean, you did have that one conversation with him." Mingi proposed, his eyes dancing with mischief.

You rolled your eyes at the idea.

"Oh come on, that's a bit too far-fetched, don't you think? Seonghwa is way too sophisticated to have a crush on me."

Mingi didn't stop there, "Okay, okay, how about Yunho from the biker's club? He did lend you a pen during that exam, after all. Could be a sign."

You couldn't help but chortle at Mingi's wild theories.

"Dude, you're trippin'. Yunho is practically a legend in this school. He's got way better things to do than leave me love notes."

Mingi shrugged, conceding, "Yeah, you're probably right. And then there's Yeosang, the untouchable genius and president of the student council. Maybe he's secretly smitten with you."

You burst into laughter, "Mingi, you're freaking crazy! Yeosang is way out of my league. Besides, why would someone like him be interested in me?"

Mingi finally gave up on his outlandish guesses and turned to you with a smile, "Alright, buttercup. Who do you think it is then?"

You felt your cheeks flush, and you hesitated for a moment before shyly admitting, "Well, if I had to pick, I kind of wish it was Wooyoung," He grinned, nudging you playfully, "Ah, so you've got a soft spot for the baseball club president, huh?"

You blushed even deeper and playfully swatted his arm.

"Don't tease me, it's just a silly crush. I doubt he's the secret admirer anyway," His smile was warm as he ruffled your hair, "You never know, silly. Sometimes, the person you least expect can surprise you."

After your admission about your crush on Wooyoung and Mingi's continuous teasing that lasted for days, the gifts and notes from your secret admirer strangely stopped. It was as if someone had flipped a switch, and your daily bright spots had disappeared. You had grown so accustomed to the surprises that you now felt like everything was going wrong without them.

One day, as you sat in an empty classroom after school, fulfilling your cleaning duty, you couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment. You missed the small gestures of kindness that had brightened your days.

It was a particularly gloomy afternoon, you couldn't help but mope.

But your already sour mood took a nosedive when the last person you wanted to see made an unexpected appearance in the classroom. San strolled in with an arrogant smirk, clearly relishing the opportunity to get under your skin.

"Aww, still pouting because your secret admirer ditched you?" He taunted, leaning casually against a desk.

You tried to ignore him, focusing on your cleaning duties, but his relentless teasing was beginning to wear on your nerves. He continued to make snide remarks about your admirer, insinuating that you might have been sending the gifts and notes to yourself just to create the illusion that someone would like you.

"Are you sure you didn't send yourself all those things just to make yourself look desirable? I mean, who in their right mind would even like you enough to do all this?"

Each of his words stung like a needle, and you clenched your fists in frustration. You had no idea why your secret admirer had suddenly stopped, but the insinuation that you were faking it only fueled your irritation.

Finally, you couldn't hold back any longer.

Turning to face him, you snapped, "You know, San, not everything revolves around you and your constant need to belittle others. Just because you can't stand the thought of someone being nice to me doesn't mean you have to make up stories to feel better about yourself."

His smirk faltered for a moment as he realised the depth of your anger. You had rarely spoken up to him in such a manner, and it took him by surprise. Before he could respond, you turned away and focused on finishing your cleaning duties.

The emptiness in your heart weighed heavily on you, and you wondered why your secret admirer had disappeared and whether you would ever find out the truth.

As you continued to clean the classroom, feeling down after your encounter with San, you didn't expect anyone else to notice your mood.

But as you were lost in your thoughts, you suddenly heard a familiar voice calling out your name.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You turned to see Wooyoung standing in the doorway, concern evident in his eyes. He had apparently noticed your sombre expression and had come to check on you.

You managed a weak smile, not wanting to burden him with your troubles, "I'm fine, Woo. Just a bit tired, that's all." He didn't seem convinced but respected your response.

Instead, he offered, "Well, how about we grab some ice cream after this? It might help brighten your day." The offer caught you by surprise, and you felt a glimmer of hope. Ice cream sounded like a perfect way to lift your spirits.

You nodded in agreement, "Sure, that sounds nice."

As you walked to the nearby ice cream shop after school, Wooyoung did his best to engage you in conversation, trying to cheer you up. His genuine concern and friendly demeanour made you feel a bit better, but you couldn't shake off the nagging thought about your secret admirer.

Sitting in the ice cream parlour, you stared at him as he talked animatedly about various topics, you wondered if he could be the secret admirer. The thought played like a broken record in your mind.

Part of you wanted to ask him why he had stopped the gifts.

But the logical part of your brain reminded you that it couldn't possibly be Wooyoung. If he were the one behind the thoughtful gestures, he wouldn't be here with you right now, trying to cheer you up in person.

So, you pushed aside your doubts and worries, allowing yourself to enjoy the moment with him. As you savoured the sweet taste of your ice cream, you appreciated his kindness and friendship, even if the mystery of your secret admirer remained unsolved.

After your outing with the baseball club president, you found yourself pondering your feelings and the mystery of your secret admirer even more. The conflicting emotions swirling within you left you feeling confused and unsettled.

Unable to contain your thoughts any longer, you decided to confide in Mingi. As you both sat in his bedroom, you opened up about your feelings regarding Wooyoung and the secret admirer.

"Mingi, I just don't understand," You began, your voice tinged with uncertainty, "I've been so fixated on this secret admirer, but I really like Wooyoung. He's caring, attentive, and he's been there for me. So why do I feel so sad about the gifts and notes stopping?"

Mingi regarded you thoughtfully before gently pointing out.

"It sounds like you're describing two different people. If you like Wooyoung and he's been caring towards you, then shouldn't that be enough? Why does it matter if the secret admirer stopped?"

His words struck a chord, and you realised he was right.

Why were you so bothered by the absence of your secret admirer when you believed it to be Wooyoung all along? Did you secretly wish it were someone else? Had your feelings for Wooyoung not been as strong as you thought?

You let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of your conflicting emotions, "I don't know. Maybe I got carried away with the idea of a secret admirer, it shouldn't diminish what I feel for Wooyoung."

Mingi nodded in understanding, his expression gentle.

"Exactly, buttercup. You don't need a secret admirer to validate your worth or the kindness Wooyoung has shown you. Sometimes, our own expectations and fantasies can cloud our feelings."

Reflecting on Mingi's words, you realised that your fixation on the secret admirer had indeed overshadowed your true feelings for Wooyoung. It was time to appreciate the genuine connection you had with him and let go of the mystery that had consumed your thoughts for so long.

As you decided to let go of the idea of the secret admirer and focus on your budding relationship with Wooyoung, life seemed to return to normal. You enjoyed the time you spent with him, cherishing his caring gestures and the genuine connection you shared.

But one day, as you sat in the school cafeteria with Mingi, you expressed your frustration, "Ugh, can you believe it? They've run out of my favourite chocolate milk again. It's like they do it on purpose."

Mingi sympathetically patted your shoulder, "I know. It's their conspiracy against you, clearly."

After lunch, you returned to your desk in the classroom, expecting another mundane afternoon. But as you opened your bag, you let out a gasp of surprise. There it was, a carton of your beloved chocolate milk, sitting neatly on your desk.

Mingi's eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the milk, then at you.

"It's happening again!"

You were equally shocked, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and curiosity.

The return of your secret admirer was unexpected, and you wondered who could be behind it. Picking up the carton of milk and examining it, you find a familiar note attached. It simply read, "I thought this might make your day better."

The mystery had resurfaced, and you exchanged puzzled glances with Mingi. It seemed that your secret admirer was back, and you couldn't wait to uncover the truth behind these thoughtful gestures once and for all.

As the days went by, you noticed that Choi San seemed to be everywhere lately.

It was as if he had suddenly taken an interest in your daily activities. He would pop up in unexpected places, finding clever ways to get your attention, though his teasing had taken on a different tone.

His jokes had shifted from being insulting to more lighthearted and harmless. While you still found yourself annoyed by his constant presence, you couldn't deny that his newfound playfulness was less aggravating than before.

Despite your long-standing rivalry and the initial bad impression you had of each other, you noticed that San's behaviour had changed. He was no longer the relentless tormentor but rather someone who seemed to enjoy engaging with you in a teasing, albeit less hostile, manner.

You found yourself in an odd position.

While you didn't exactly hate him as much as you used to, the memories of your first encounters and the rivalry that had defined your relationship still lingered. It was hard to completely let your guard down around him, even though his intentions appeared to have shifted in a more positive direction.

As you navigate this newfound dynamic with San, you wonder if there was more to his change in behaviour. Was it possible that he had also grown tired of the constant rivalry and had decided to take a different approach in your interactions?

The uncertainty only added to the intrigue of the situation, leaving you both baffled and intrigued by his unexpected transformation.

One afternoon, you found yourself in the library, engrossed in a study session with Wooyoung. The two of you had been diligently working on your assignments and preparing for upcoming exams. The peaceful atmosphere of the library was perfect, and you were grateful for the club president's presence.

But your concentration was disrupted when you noticed San approaching your table. He wore an unhappy expression, and you grumbled in annoyance at his sudden, unwanted presence.

"Hey, Woo," San said with feigned nonchalance, "Mind if I hang out with you guys for a bit?"

Wooyoung, always the peacemaker, smiled and gestured to an empty chair, "Of course, Sannie. Join us. But please, be nice to her."

San acted as if he reluctantly accepted the invitation.

In between your study session, Wooyoung received an urgent phone call that required his immediate attention. He apologised for having to leave and promised to return as soon as he could.

You sighed as Wooyoung left, knowing that you were now alone with San. You asked, "Why are you still here, San? You said you wanted to hang out with Wooyoung," He shrugged, feigning indifference, "Well, I also need to study, you know. Can't be slacking off all the time."

You rolled your eyes, sceptical of his true intentions.

"Fine, whatever. Just don't disturb me."

As you continued to work on your assignments, you came across a particularly challenging math problem that left you frustrated.

San, who had been quietly studying himself, noticed your struggle. Surprisingly, he leaned over and said, "You know, I'm pretty good at math. Need some help?"

You were taken aback by his offer, not expecting such a gesture from someone you had considered your rival for so long. After a moment of hesitation, you reluctantly agreed.

"Okay, fine. Help me with this one."

His explanation turned out to be clear and concise, and you couldn't help but acknowledge that he was indeed skilled in math.

As he helped you in solving the problem, you thought to yourself that maybe he wasn't as unpleasant as you had initially thought. It seemed like he still had the capacity to be a decent person when he chose to be.

The following day, you sat alone in school as the rain poured outside, your chances of staying dry were dwindling rapidly.

Wooyoung was absent, and Mingi had to leave school early for a family emergency, leaving you to face the downpour alone. To make matters worse, you had forgotten your umbrella and raincoat again, a rookie mistake that left you feeling like a complete idiot.

You sighed deeply, hoping against hope that the rain would subside, but it only grew heavier as the minutes passed. After waiting for over an hour, you realised you couldn't stay in school forever.

With a resigned determination, you wrapped your arms around yourself and braced for the inevitable.

Running out into the torrential rain, you were immediately drenched, and your vision blurred as the water streamed down your face. It was a miserable situation, and you cursed your bad luck.

Like the idiot you were, you ended up tripping over something on the ground, scraping your knee painfully on the wet pavement. The pain was sharp, and you couldn't hold back the tears that welled up in your eyes.

You've got to be kidding me, can this day get any worse?

As you sat there in the pouring rain, nursing your injured knee, a shadow appeared in front of you. An umbrella was unfurled above your drenched body, shielding you from the relentless rain, and a hand was extended toward you.

You looked up in surprise, your vision still blurred by raindrops, and to your astonishment, it was San who stood before you.

The last person you expected to come to your aid.

"Need some help?" He asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between your ingrained rivalry and your need for assistance. But the pain in your knee and the relentless downpour pushed you to accept his help.

You reached out and took his hand, allowing him to help you up from the wet ground.

As you stood under the umbrella he provided, you felt a strange mixture of gratitude and disbelief because it was San, of all people, who had come to your rescue in your moment of need.

He walked you to the nearest bus stop, offering some protection against the relentless rain. Surprisingly, he was gentle as he helped you sit down and examine your scraped knee. You instinctively pulled away, insisting that you were fine, but he was undeterred.

He knelt down beside you, a look of genuine concern in his eyes.

The sight of him worrying and caring about you was so foreign that you wondered if this was the same Choi San you had known all along.

"Let me take a look." He said softly, reaching out to inspect your scraped knee.

Reluctantly, you allowed him to examine the injury.

He was surprisingly gentle, his touch careful to avoid causing you any more pain. It was a stark contrast to the way he had treated you in the past, and it left you feeling perplexed.

San reached into his bag and pulled out a bandaid, holding it up for you to see, "I always carry a few of these just in case." He explained.

You watched as he helped you apply the bandaid, his actions careful and considerate. Despite your reservations and the history of animosity between you, there was no denying that his concern was genuine.

Looking at him more closely now, you never fully appreciated how handsome San truly was. His slightly damp hair from the rain, coupled with the intense look of concentration on his face as he tried not to cause you more pain, proved to be more appealing than you had expected.

You couldn't believe this, he was making your heart race.

As he finished applying the bandaid, you wondered who this person was and what he had done to the real Choi San.

The conflicting emotions within you made it clear that things were far from simple, and you found yourself questioning your long-held animosity towards him.

After the unexpected kindness from San during the rainstorm and the way he had treated you lately, you felt confused and conflicted. It was a stark departure from the rivalry and animosity that had defined your relationship for so long.

Seeking some perspective, you decided to talk to Mingi about the vice president's sudden change in attitude. As you both lounged in your favourite spot in the school courtyard, you hesitantly broached the topic.

"Mingi, have you noticed how different San has been lately?" You asked, trying to make sense of your feelings.

Your best friend, ever the optimist, offered a reassuring smile.

"Maybe he's just grown tired of the rivalry too, buttercup. People change, you know? Perhaps he's realised that it's best to act civil and put the past behind us."

While Mingi's words were comforting, you still struggled with your emotions. The disdain you had for San had been ingrained in you for so long that accepting his sudden kindness and change of heart was a challenge.

A small part of you resented him for making you feel this way, for shaking the foundation of your long-held beliefs about him.

It was difficult to let go of the past and embrace the possibility of a different relationship with someone you had considered your rival for so long.

A small part of you worried about the possible evil intentions behind his change. The uncertainty left you feeling torn between your deep-seated animosity and the possibility of a new beginning.

As time went on, you continued to receive more and more endearing gifts from your secret admirer. The notes accompanying these gifts became sweeter with each passing day, and it was clear that this mystery person knew you well.

The thoughtful gestures brought a smile to your face, brightening your days and making you feel cherished.

Oddly enough, the timing of these gifts seemed to align with Wooyoung's actions in a way that left you wondering. Many of the surprises were things that he had observed you enjoying or had casually mentioned in conversation.

As a result, rumours began to circulate among your classmates, and the popular theory was that the baseball club president was your secret admirer.

The idea filled you with hope and a flutter of excitement.

The thought that Wooyoung might be the one behind these gestures made your heart race, and you couldn't help but imagine a future where you could be with him.

However, amid this whirlwind of gifts and speculations, San's behaviour remained an enigma.

He was still working on redeeming himself in your eyes, often intervening whenever you and Wooyoung seemed to get closer. It was as if he couldn't stand the thought of you and his best friend becoming a couple.

His actions left you perplexed.

You wondered what had prompted his newfound determination to change. The more he tried to insert himself into your life, the more it fueled your curiosity about the true nature of his intentions.

As the days passed, you found yourself caught between the allure of the secret admirer's gifts and the complicated dynamics between you, Wooyoung, and San. The mysteries and complexities of your high school life continued to unfold, leaving you in a state of both excitement and confusion.

Today, you were on a school trip to the museum for the history class.

The class was filled with a sense of anticipation and curiosity that seemed to revolve around you and Wooyoung.

Everyone around you, including Mingi, seemed to be paying close attention to your interactions with the baseball club president. It was as if they were fully convinced that he was your secret admirer.

You hadn't exactly been oblivious to the little squeals your classmates would occasionally let out whenever Wooyoung did something sweet, like draping his blazer over you when it was cold or taking his time to patiently explain what you didn't understand as you walked through the exhibit together.

San, on the other hand, trailed behind the crowd with a sour expression.

The vice president of the baseball club disliked the sight of you and his best friend getting so close. The rumours and speculations had reached their peak, and he couldn't hide his frustration.

When the group settled down for lunch at the museum cafe, you found yourself sitting with Wooyoung, Mingi, and a few other members of the baseball club.

San, unfortunately, had no choice but to mix with other classmates since your table was already full.

During the meal, your friends couldn't resist teasing the club president about his attentiveness to you, jokingly asking when he was going to reveal himself as the secret admirer. Wooyoung blushed from the teasing, and you stared at him, curiosity and anticipation building within you.

With a slight smile, Wooyoung bit his lip and locked eyes with you.

"Must I be the secret admirer for you to like me?" He asked, his voice soft but filled with a hint of vulnerability, "What if I tell you, I'm not that person?"

The revelation hung in the air, leaving everyone at the table shocked and speechless. You, in particular, felt overwhelmed by the unexpected turn of events. You had been so convinced that he was your secret admirer, and now it seemed that the truth was something entirely different.

The mystery had deepened, and you were left wondering who could be behind the thoughtful gifts and gestures that had captured your heart.

As the shock of Wooyoung's revelation settled in, you felt a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts swirling within you. It was a perplexing mix of confusion, disappointment, and self-reflection.

Initially, you had been so convinced that Wooyoung was your secret admirer, and the prospect of that idea had excited you to no end.

But now, faced with the truth that he wasn't the one behind the anonymous gifts and sweet notes, you found yourself questioning why you had been so upset.

You realised that you had allowed your feelings for Wooyoung to become entangled with the idea of him being the secret admirer. It was as if you had equated your affection for him with the mysterious gestures and thoughtfulness of the anonymous person.

In reality, your crush on Wooyoung had been based on his kind actions and his charming personality, not on the deep connection that you thought you had developed because of the secret admirer's gestures.

Deep down, you couldn't deny that you felt a stronger connection to the secret admirer, as it seemed like this person knew you better than anyone else.

The gifts and notes had felt personal as if they were tailored to your likes and preferences. It made you question the authenticity of your feelings for Wooyoung, realising that they might have been built on a more superficial foundation.

As you grappled with these conflicting emotions, you told yourself that your feelings for Wooyoung should be independent and not dependent on what the secret admirer did or didn't do.

Wooyoung was, after all, his own person and your feelings for him should be based on who he was, not on the anonymous acts of kindness that had momentarily clouded your judgement.

After a moment of silence that seemed to weigh heavily on both of you, you could see a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes.

You couldn't let this moment pass without addressing his question.

"I'm sorry, Woo," You began, your voice soft and apologetic, "I do like you, I really do. But I need to find out who the person behind the anonymous gifts and notes is first, it's important to me."

His expression shifted, and he forced a smile, "I understand," He replied, his voice filled with understanding, "Take your time. I'll be here, waiting for your answer."

Mingi, who had been quietly observing the exchange, sensed your discomfort and decided to step in. He offered his gratitude to Wooyoung for taking care of you so far and claimed that he would take over looking out for you after lunch.

The tension in the air seemed to dissipate.

You were grateful for the understanding and support of both Wooyoung and Mingi. It was a complicated situation, but you were determined to unravel the mystery of your secret admirer and figure out where your heart truly belonged.

As the teacher continued explaining the historical artefacts at the museum, you found it increasingly difficult to focus.

Your mind was still trying to digest the fact that Wooyoung was not your secret admirer, and the revelation had left you feeling somewhat distracted.

Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly felt a presence beside you.

It was San, and he couldn't resist teasing you for not paying attention. His playful jab was enough to snap you out of your trance, and he challenged you to a quiz to see who could answer more questions correctly.

At first, you hesitated, still feeling a bit overwhelmed by the recent turn of events.

However, his persistence and friendly competitiveness eventually won you over. You accepted his challenge, and together, you both started paying closer attention to the teacher's explanations.

As the quiz progressed, you found yourself engaged and focused, eager to prove your knowledge. San's enthusiasm and determination were contagious, and he pushed you to think critically about the artefacts and their historical significance.

In the end, the quiz ended in a draw, with both of you answering an impressive number of questions correctly.

You were touched by his effort to help you get back on track and stay engaged in the lesson. It was a small gesture, but it made you realise that maybe, just maybe, your rivalry could turn into something different.

The bus ride back to school after the museum trip had ended found you somehow seated in the final row between Wooyoung and San. Mingi couldn't resist throwing you sly glances, wiggling his brows in a playful manner. You scoffed and rolled your eyes at his antics, trying your best to ignore him.

As the journey continued, the rhythmic motion of the bus and the hum of the engine started to lull you to sleep.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and soon enough, your head swayed and landed on Wooyoung's shoulder, causing a few students to let out affectionate coos at the sight.

San, however, had other plans.

He gently moved your head from Wooyoung's shoulder over to his own, a small, smug smile playing on his lips as he watched you unconsciously snuggle closer to him.

Mingi, sitting nearby, widened his eyes at the unexpected turn of events, making a mental note to tell you about this later.

Wooyoung, on the other hand, looked away and focused his gaze out the window, his expression unreadable but clearly upset. It seemed like both San and Wooyoung were having an internal battle between themselves, each trying to win your attention and affection in their own way.

The tension between the two of them simmered beneath the surface, creating an unspoken rivalry that was beginning to take a toll on their friendship.

In the days following the museum trip, Wooyoung seemed to sense your need for some space and gave you a bit of room to sort through your feelings and thoughts.

The revelation that he wasn't your secret admirer had left you somewhat confused, and you found yourself wanting to uncover the mystery more than ever.

Mingi, always full of wild ideas, suggested that it could be San who was behind the anonymous gifts, especially considering his recent drastic change in behaviour toward you.

It wasn't entirely impossible, but you couldn't bring yourself to believe it.

After all, the gifts had started arriving when you and San were still rivals, and he had even mocked you for receiving them, insinuating that you might be sending them to yourself. The idea that he could be your secret admirer just didn't add up in your mind, and you were adamant that it couldn't be him.

There's no way in hell it could be Choi San.

As you sat alone on the bleachers one day, deep in thought, San suddenly appeared beside you, holding a carton of your favourite chocolate milk.

Your eyes widened in surprise.

The chocolate milk had become a special symbol of your connection with the secret admirer, and it left you wondering how San could possibly know about it.

He offered you the carton with a casual smile, his gaze meeting yours as if he had something important to say. The puzzle pieces in your mind began to shift.

Holy crap, could he be..?

"I found this on your desk, I'm guessing your secret admirer must have left it there." You let out a sigh of relief, realising that, of course, he couldn't have been the one behind this gesture.

He was just being friendly and helpful.

As he settled down beside you, he noticed the contemplative expression on your face and asked, "What's on your mind?"

You wondered when it had all begun, this change in his demeanour towards you. He was treating you so casually, almost like friends, and it left you both intrigued and perplexed.

But you chose not to voice your thoughts out loud, not wanting to risk a quarrel with him.

Instead, you decided to be honest and opened up about your problem with the secret admirer, "It's the thing with my secret admirer... It sucks but it bothers me that it isn't Wooyoung. I just can't figure out why I'm so disappointed by the truth. I guess I just... really wanted it to be him."

To your surprise, San offered you genuine advice.

"If you're disappointed that it's not Wooyoung," He began, "Maybe it's because he's not the one you truly like. Perhaps it's the secret admirer that you really want to be with."

His words struck a chord with you, and you couldn't help but ponder them. His insights were unexpected, and you found yourself considering whether your feelings for Wooyoung had been based on the wrong foundation all along.

It was a moment of introspection that left you with more questions than answers, but at least now, you had someone to discuss them with.

"Tell you what, I'll help you find out who this mysterious person is."

San's willingness to help you figure out the identity of your secret admirer took you by surprise. After all, it was San who had initially ridiculed you for receiving these anonymous gifts and had even been quite mean about it.

You expressed your genuine astonishment, turning to him with wide eyes, "You're really willing to help me with this?" You asked, still somewhat taken aback by his sudden change of heart.

He looked at you, his expression softening with a touch of guilt.

He admitted, "I shouldn't have said those mean words back then. I didn't mean them, and I wish I could take them back if it were possible."

His sincere apology caught you off guard, and you could see the regret in his eyes. You appreciated his honesty and his willingness to make amends, and you were thankful for his apology.

With San by your side, offering to help uncover the mystery of your secret admirer, you wondered if there was more to him than the rivalry that had defined your relationship until now. It was a surprising turn of events, and you were beginning to see a different side of him—one that left you curious and intrigued.

"Hey, San. Be honest with me, why the sudden change in attitude?"

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you finally mustered the courage to address the elephant in the room.

You observed him closely as you posed the question, watching as he attempted to keep his facial expression neutral. It was clear that he was holding back a lot when he finally answered.

"I guess I just... realised how childish I'd been the whole time," He began, his voice measured, "And I grew tired of all the unnecessary fighting between us. I also should've said this earlier but I... I'm really sorry for the way I've acted in the past, I know I was a complete jerk."

His words seemed plausible, but there was something in his eyes that suggested there might be more to the story. It wasn't entirely the truth, but you chose not to press further, not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable.

Instead, you accepted his explanation and appreciated his efforts to change for the better. It was a step towards building a more cordial relationship, and you were willing to see where it would lead.

As he had promised, he diligently assisted you in unravelling the mystery of your secret admirer. Consequently, the two of you ended up spending more time together than initially anticipated, and through this process, you gained a deeper understanding of him.

You came to recognise that when San set his mind to it, he could be just as caring and attentive as Wooyoung.

At this point, you had lost track of how many times he had managed to evoke emotions in you that you had once believed only his best friend could elicit.

The Choi San you now knew was a stark departure from the person you had first encountered, but you had no complaints about the transformation.

It wasn't until that one fateful day that you truly grasped the depth of your feelings for him.

'Hey buttercup, soz I can't walk home with you today. Got a meeting with my project groupmates, I'll see you at dinner tonight.' - Princess Minki💕

As you prepared to leave school, a sigh escaped your lips upon receiving Mingi's text about his meeting with his project groupmates, you resigned yourself to the idea of walking home alone. You didn't want to bother Wooyoung since he had been giving you space lately.

However, to your surprise, when you reached the school gates, you found San standing there, waiting.

You blinked in confusion, "San? Why are you here?"

He smiled, "I'm waiting for you. I saw Mingi leaving with his groupmates, so I thought I'd wait and walk you home."

Your heart did a little flip at his unexpected kindness, "Oh, you really don't have to do that," You said, genuinely touched by his gesture. But he insisted, his tone firm, "I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you while you walked home alone. It's the least I can do."

With a grateful smile, you nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest at the realisation that perhaps your relationship with San was slowly evolving into something more.

During your walk home with him, every step seemed to resonate with a sense of closeness that went beyond mere friendship.

The world around you faded into insignificance as he held the umbrella over both of you, sheltering you from the gentle drizzle that had started. The soft pattering of raindrops on the umbrella's surface created a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

His attention to detail was astonishing, like the way he would glance at you out of the corner of his eye when he thought you weren't looking, his gaze filled with a warmth that sent shivers down your spine.

Each shared joke felt like a secret shared between the two of you, a bond that was growing stronger with every laugh.

And when your bag slipped from your shoulder, hitting the ground with a thud, you expected to bend down to pick it up yourself, but before you could react, he had already swooped down to retrieve it for you.

His act of chivalry caught you off guard, making your heart skip a beat. It was these seemingly insignificant moments that left you questioning the nature of your feelings.

As your steps echoed in rhythm with his, you felt a magnetic pull towards him, and your thoughts began to revolve around this unexpected connection that was steadily blossoming between you two.

Without realising it, your focus gradually shifted entirely to San when you were with him. Unlike with Wooyoung, your thoughts no longer wandered to the mysterious secret admirer.

He had a unique way of capturing your full attention, and you found yourself drawn to him in a way you hadn't expected. It was a surprising development that left you in a state of denial about the butterflies he was stirring in your heart.

As you neared your home, engrossed in a conversation with him, you didn't notice the car that swerved dangerously close to the sidewalk. It happened in the blink of an eye, and before you could even react, San sprang into immediate action.

"Watch out!"

In an instant, he had wrapped his arms around you, shielding you from the potential crash.

Time seemed to slow down as you felt his strong, protective embrace. Your heart pounded in your chest, and the world around you blurred into insignificance as you found yourself pressed against his chest.

Once the danger had passed, you slowly pulled away, your breaths coming in shallow gasps.

You stared up at San, your eyes wide with a mixture of emotions. At first, you had feared for his safety, but now, as you gazed into his eyes, you felt your heart racing for an entirely different reason.

His eyes locked with yours, so full of emotion that it left you breathless. It was as if he had been so afraid of you being in harm's way, and that depth of concern was something you had never expected.

At that moment, everything seemed to change between you.

The world around you regained its focus, and you realised that you were still standing on the sidewalk, in the arms of the person who had just saved you from potential danger.

It was a powerful, intense moment that left your heart racing and your mind in turmoil as you tried to make sense of the emotions swirling within you.

The next morning, as you walked to school with Mingi, your heart was still racing from the previous day's encounter with San. The memory of his protective embrace and the intense moment that had followed played over and over in your mind.

As you approached the school gates, you scanned the crowd, looking for any sign of San.

It was almost as if your subconscious was seeking out his presence. And then, like a scene from a movie, you spotted him coming your way from the opposite direction.

Your breath caught in your throat as he drew closer, a warm smile spreading across his face, "Good morning." He greeted you, his voice friendly and genuine.

"Morning." You managed to reply, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness.

San continued on his way, walking alongside Wooyoung, who had been right beside him the entire time. It was at that moment that you realised something shocking: you hadn't even noticed Wooyoung's presence until now.

The realisation hit you like a truck.

It wasn't Wooyoung who had occupied your thoughts, even when he was right next to San. It was San himself who had captured your attention, making you question your feelings and priorities.

You couldn't pinpoint exactly when it all started, but the vice president of the baseball club had somehow become a constant presence in your thoughts. And you had lost track of how many times your heart had fluttered just from catching a glimpse of him.

Almost everything seemed to trigger thoughts of San, and you now realise that these were reactions even Wooyoung couldn't elicit from you during the time you were crushing on him.

Mingi observed you quietly, having heard about what had happened with San the previous day.

He chose to remain silent, knowing that you needed time and space to process your thoughts and emotions. As your best friend, he wanted you to find clarity in your feelings, whatever they may be.

As you entered the classroom with Mingi, your eyes were immediately drawn to your desk, where your favourite chocolate milk sat, accompanied by the usual heartfelt note.

But this time, the note held a surprise.

It didn't contain the usual sweet message; instead, it instructed you to meet up on the rooftop during lunch break.

Your heart raced as you read the note, your eyes widening in astonishment. Your secret admirer was finally revealing themselves, taking the first step towards unveiling their identity.

You couldn't believe it was happening, and a sense of excitement mixed with nervousness coursed through you.

Showing the note to Mingi, you both exchanged wide-eyed glances, realising that the moment you had been waiting for had finally arrived.

It should have filled you with happiness, but deep down, a conflicted feeling gnawed at your heart. You couldn't believe that, despite all your initial reluctance, you found yourself secretly wishing that your secret admirer would turn out to be San.

Everything about him screamed that he couldn't possibly be the one behind the anonymous gifts and sweet notes.

But as determination welled up within you, you considered the possibility of rejecting your secret admirer, someone you had admired from a distance, in favour of someone you had never imagined having feelings for; San.

The thought left you grappling with a whirlwind of emotions as you prepared for the lunchtime rendezvous on the rooftop, unsure of what lay ahead.

The rest of the morning went by in a blur, you hadn't even the slightest clue what Mr. Kim had taught you all in class.

"You can do this, buttercup!"

Mingi encourages, pulling you in for a quick hug before he pushes you towards the staircase leading up to the school rooftop.

Anxiety gripped your heart as you made your way up to the rooftop, each step echoing your pounding heartbeat. You couldn't believe the moment had finally arrived to meet the person who had been behind all the gifts and notes that had brightened your days for the past few months.

Your mind raced with questions, doubts, and a flutter of hope.

As you reached the rooftop door, you hesitated for a moment before pushing it open. The anticipation in the air was palpable, and you could hardly contain the whirlwind of emotions churning inside you.

Your heart nearly stopped when you stepped onto the rooftop, your eyes falling upon the back of a familiar figure.

A sense of suspense hung heavy in the air, and you couldn't bring yourself to move or speak just yet. The person slowly turned around, and as their face came into view, your heart sank.

It was... Wooyoung.

Your disappointment was palpable as you uttered, "Oh, it's you," in a tone that betrayed your shattered expectations. You couldn't control your reaction, and it hurt to know that it wasn't the person you had secretly hoped for.

Unfortunately for you, Wooyoung had seen your reaction clearly.

He smiled sadly, a mixture of understanding and acceptance in his eyes. He had come here not to reveal himself as your secret admirer but to confirm that you didn't return his feelings so that he could finally move on.

Realising that you had hurt him with your reaction, you immediately apologised, "God, I'm so sorry, Woo. I didn't mean to sound disappointed."

Wooyoung's smile remained gentle as he reassured you, "It's fine, really. I understand."

He took a step closer to you and spoke softly, "But I think you should know that I'm not the one who has been sending you those gifts and notes."

Confusion and curiosity washed over you as you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest, "Then who is it?" You asked, unable to hide the eagerness in your voice.

Wooyoung smiled once more, but this time, his gaze drifted past you, "Your secret admirer is standing right behind you."

Your heart raced as you turned around slowly, each second feeling like an eternity as you wished desperately for it to be the person you'd come to secretly hope for.

Suspense hung in the air, almost suffocating, as you finally set your eyes on the figure standing there.

And then, you saw him.

Choi San.

Your heart soared at the sight of him, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hands. His smile was so sweet that it melted your heart, and you couldn't believe the person you had once despised could be your secret admirer.

Wooyoung, having fulfilled his own purpose, discreetly left you two alone for some privacy.

San walked up to you slowly, a playful "surprise" escaping his lips as he presented the bouquet to you. You accepted it shyly, your fingers brushing against the delicate petals, but you couldn't help the flood of questions that overwhelmed your mind.

Sitting together on the bench on the rooftop, you looked at him with a mixture of astonishment and confusion, "Is this some kind of prank?" You asked cautiously, your guard still up despite the sincerity in his eyes.

He shook his head gently, his gaze unwavering, "No, I promise you, this is not a prank," He assured you softly, his eyes locked with yours, "It really has been me all this time."

A wave of disbelief washed over you.

The person who had once been your rival, who had teased and challenged you relentlessly, was the same person who had been secretly showing you kindness and affection.

The contrast was staggering.

As you looked into his eyes, you couldn't believe how you had misunderstood him for so long, and why he had chosen to hide his true feelings behind the guise of a secret admirer.

There were so many questions, but one thing was clear: your perception of Choi San was about to change in ways you couldn't have imagined.

It was time to clear the air, to understand the mystery behind the secret admirer you had come to appreciate and admire, "Okay," You began, your voice tinged with scepticism, "You need to explain everything, from the beginning. How did this all start?"

San sighed, his eyes focused on the ground for a moment before meeting yours with a hint of regret.

"I guess it all started on that first day," He confessed, "It's true that I was having a really bad day when you bumped into me, I was actually going to apologise for being rude. But then you responded with so much feistiness that it intrigued me. I've never met a girl as gutsy as you, and I found it... attractive."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Wait, you found it attractive when I fought back?"

He chuckled, a faint blush colouring his cheeks.

"Yeah, I did. I was disappointed when you didn't react the way I expected during your first visit to the baseball club. I thought you'd fight back, but you left so timidly. So, I decided to ignore you the next time I saw you, hoping it would get a reaction out of you."

Your mind was reeling from this revelation.

The rivalry between you two had been initiated because he enjoyed seeing you argue back. It was a strange reason, but it explained a lot about his behaviour.

"So, you admired me because of our arguments?"

He nodded, a sheepish smile playing on his lips, "Yes, I admired your spirit and intelligence. But I also realised I couldn't express my admiration openly because of our rivalry. So, I chose to become your secret admirer."

You laughed at the irony of it all, "Wow, this is so unexpected. I thought you just enjoyed tormenting me," He grinned, a glint of mischief in his eyes, "Well, that was part of it. But there's more to it than just that."

As you continued to talk, you realised that the person you had once viewed as your rival had harboured feelings of admiration and attraction towards you all along.

San shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his expression more serious now, "There's... something else too." He began, his gaze fixed on the bouquet of flowers you held.

Your curiosity was piqued once again, "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I... I know I stopped leaving you the notes and gifts at some point." You immediately knew what he was referring to, remembering how upset you had been.

He glanced at you, his eyes filled with a hint of remorse, "It was around the time I overheard Mingi teasing you about your crush on Wooyoung. It saddened me because I thought maybe it was time for you to focus on being with him."

You furrowed your brow, surprised by this revelation, "You stopped because of that?"

He nodded, his expression conflicted, "Yes. I didn't want to stand in the way of you and Wooyoung, especially since he's my best friend."

His lips curled into a small, self-deprecating smile, "And that's where I messed up. I thought it was a selfless act, but then I saw how upset you were at the absence of the gifts, and I decided to tease you about it. I wanted to see your reaction, and that's when I realised I really hurt your feelings."

Your eyes widened as you recalled that particular encounter, "I was genuinely angry that day," He nodded, his gaze downcast, "I deserved it. I realised that's not how you treat someone you like."

You both sat in silence for a moment, the weight of his confession sinking in. It all made sense now, that was the point when he had suddenly started being nicer to you.

It was clear that San had been struggling with his feelings and the situation had become even more complicated when he saw you growing closer to Wooyoung, just like everyone else, believing he was your secret admirer.

The jealousy he had felt was something he hadn't expected.

"But... why didn't you just talk to me about your feelings?" You finally asked, your voice soft. He sighed, his shoulders slumping, "I guess I was scared. Scared that if I revealed everything, I might lose our friendship, and I couldn't bear the thought of that."

You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "San, you don't have to be scared anymore. We can figure this out together."

He looked up at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and gratitude, "Thank you for understanding."

With your newfound understanding, you both continued your conversation, unravelling the complexities of your relationship and the unexpected twists and turns that had brought you to this moment.

The rooftop seemed to hold its breath as you absorbed all that San had shared with you.

The weight of the past few months, the ups and downs, the misunderstandings, and the revelations hung in the air. It was as though a puzzle had finally been pieced together, and you could see the bigger picture clearly now.

As you took a deep breath, you noticed that San was fidgeting, his gaze shifting between your eyes and the ground. There was something he needed to say or do, and the anticipation gnawed at you.

Finally, you couldn't contain your curiosity any longer.

"San," You began gently, "Is there something else on your mind?"

He looked up, meeting your eyes with a mixture of nervousness and determination. His voice was a bit shaky as he spoke, "Actually, there's one more thing I need to ask."

Your heart raced as you waited for him to continue, wondering what else could possibly be left unsaid after everything you'd discussed.

With a deep breath, he scooted closer to you, his eyes locking onto yours, "I've liked you for a long time now, and I've realised that I don't want to hide it anymore. I want to be with you. So, um... Would you be willing to be my girlfriend?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding loudly in your chest.

This was the moment you had never expected but secretly hoped for. You looked into his earnest eyes, and a warmth spread through you, washing away any lingering doubts or hesitations.

A smile broke across your face, and it was filled with genuine happiness, "Yes, San. I'd love to be your girlfriend."

His expression shifted from nervousness to pure joy, a radiant smile matching yours. He reached for your hand, and you willingly entwined your fingers with his, sealing the moment.

It felt as though the weight of all the misunderstandings, rivalry, and secrets had been lifted, leaving behind a newfound connection and the promise of something beautiful between you and Choi San.

As your hands remained entwined and the smile lingered on your faces, he felt a surge of happiness and anticipation. The rooftop, once a place filled with secrets and uncertainties, was now a witness to the beginning of something new.

He leaned in closer, his heart pounding louder with each inch he closed. The moment felt right, and he was ready to kiss you, to seal this new chapter between you two. But just as he was about to close the gap, you suddenly asked another question, pulling him back from the brink of that sweet, anticipated moment.

"Wait," You said with a curious expression, "So, Wooyoung knew about you being my secret admirer this whole time?"

San blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected interruption. He chuckled at your inquisitiveness, "Well," He began, "Not exactly. He found out on the day of the school trip when my jealousy got the best of me."

You chuckled along with him, realising how strange and tangled the web of emotions and secrets had become. He continued, "We decided to have a fair competition from then on, letting you be the one to choose who you liked more."

Your laughter filled the rooftop as you shook your head in disbelief at the absurdity of it all, "I can't believe all this drama happened behind the scenes."

He grinned, his thumb gently caressing your hand, "Life's full of surprises. But hey, at least it all worked out in the end."

With that, he leaned in once more, and this time, there were no more interruptions. Your lips met, sealing your newfound relationship with a sweet and memorable kiss.

On that rooftop, amidst the laughter and revelations, you and San found the beginning of something beautiful, free from rivalry and filled with the promise of love.

As the days turned into weeks, your relationship with San blossomed, and soon enough, you became the talk of the school.

The first time the students saw you both showing up hand in hand, they gasped in disbelief. Whispers and surprised glances followed your every move. But the attention didn't faze you or San; you were too wrapped up in each other to care.

San became a constant presence in your life.

He'd walk you to your first-period class, bending down to plant a gentle kiss on your lips before heading to his own. During lunch breaks, he'd wait for you patiently, and you'd share meals and laughter with Mingi, whose perpetual presence as the third wheel now felt like an integral part of your daily life.

Wooyoung, once a central figure in your life, gracefully accepted your rejection. He moved on, finding happiness elsewhere, and he was genuinely happy for you and his best friend.

The baseball club's dynamics might have shifted slightly, but it remained as strong as ever, with you visiting occasionally to watch their practices and games.

Your relationship with San brought not only love but also newfound friendships.

San and Mingi grew exceptionally close, despite your boyfriend's initial annoyance at your best friend's constant presence. The two eventually bonded over their shared affection for you and their mutual admiration for each other.

With each passing day, your connection with San deepened, and you found yourself falling in love with him more and more. The days of rivalry were long behind you, replaced by a sweet romance that left you both feeling fortunate to have found each other.

On a bright, sunny afternoon, you and your boyfriend found yourselves on the school rooftop, enjoying a cute little picnic date. The rooftop had become your special spot, a place where you could escape the hustle and bustle of school life and just be together.

As you laid out a checkered blanket, he couldn't resist stealing a sweet kiss from your lips. Your laughter filled the air, and you playfully pushed him away before retreating into his warm embrace.

His fingers gently traced patterns on your arm as he gazed into your eyes, a look of pure adoration on his face.

San, his eyes soft and contemplative, looked out over the campus below before turning his gaze toward you, "You know, I've been thinking... Would you have liked me if I hadn't riled you up so much when we first met?"

Your smile widened as you considered his question.

It was true; your initial encounters with San were filled with endless banter and rivalry. But as you thought back on those moments, you realised something profound.

"Ooh, that's an interesting question. Honestly, a part of me is glad you did. It made your presence known, and, well, quite impactful," He smirked, "Impactful, huh? So, you miss those days of constant teasing and rivalry?"

Your heart skipped a beat as you weighed your response carefully.

The truth was, while those early days had been filled with challenges and unknowing sparks flying between you two, you wouldn't trade the bond you now shared for anything else.

Shaking your head, you responded, "Not at all! I much prefer the sweet boyfriend you are now."

His eyes sparkled with affection as he inched closer to you. He couldn't resist the warmth of your words and the love that radiated from your gaze. Tenderly, he cupped your cheek and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

"God, I love you so much." He whispered against your lips.

Your heart swelled with happiness, and in that intimate rooftop setting, your love was sealed with a sweet, lingering kiss.

But just as the romantic atmosphere began to envelop you both, a loud groan interrupted your moment, "Jesus Christ! Get a room, you two! We're in school, for Pete's sake!"

You rolled your eyes and snapped your head up to see your best friend standing at the entrance to the rooftop, grinning mischievously despite the complaints as he approached with a familiar carton of your favourite chocolate milk in hand.

"Surprise!" Mingi announced, offering you the coveted treat, "I thought you might want this."

You laughed as you accepted the milk, realising that even on your private date, Mingi managed to insert himself into the picture. It was one of those quirks that made your friendship all the more special.

With the three of you now lounging on the rooftop, surrounded by the warmth of friendship and newfound love, Mingi couldn't help but reflect on how drastically things had changed.

He spoke with a playful tone, "You know, it's kind of funny. You two were literally at each other's throats for as long as I can remember. And now, look at you, all in love with each other."

You and San shared a fond look, both realising that sometimes, the most unexpected journeys lead to the most beautiful destinations. As you cuddled close, basking in the joy of the present moment, you knew that your love story was a testament to the power of change, friendship, and the unexpected.

Your love story had its share of twists and turns, but in the end, it was a tale of two hearts finding their way to each other, against all odds.

Well damn, this turned out slightly longer than I'd planned.

Anyway, hope y'all liked this! Thank you for reading and as always, I'd love to hear all your thoughts on the story so feel free to leave as many replies as you want! <3

Also, do let me know if you wish to be added to the permanent tag list for all my works (or if you wish to be removed, I'd understand).

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[kazutteoks]

GO FOR IT! 𝜗𝜚 ; masterlist

the one were heeseung and you have been rivals since you started hogwarts, and only takes one event that will turn your world upside down to realize what heeseung's presence in your life truly means for you. you have to do something! you just have to go for it!

pairing: ravenclaw prefect!lee heeseung x ravenclaw prefect f!reader

content: harry potter au , social media au , written parts , rivals to friends to lovers , bickering , friendly rivalry , (something i consider)humor , a tiny bit of angst (school pressure, expectations, fear of failure, yk typical of ravenclaws) , drama lots of drama , peeves mentioned (a lot) , heeseung is a great emotional support , reader is called snow for funsies , reader last name is ashbourne , heeseung is down bad but he knows how to hide it very well , tbh it's just heeseung and reader babysitting the ravenclaws and their friends while preparing to be head boy and head girl of hogwarts , but actually there's a plot , eventually reader is so down bad (as she should) , he fell first but she fell painfully harder , and that's it, that's all.

featuring: the rest of enhypen, bts jungkook and taehyung, nct 127 doyoung, johnny and yuta, ateez seonghwa, yunho, yeosang and san, njz hyein, boynextdoor taesan, txt soobin and beomgyu, p1harmony keeho, zerobaseone gyuvin, hanbin and yujin, riize anton, ive wonyoung, aespa karina, illit yunah and wonhee.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ - read more undercut! ˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ ₊

warnings: this is the beginning of a series i've decided to call enha-gwarts (so original i love myself sm /pat pat), timestamps and dates are not relevant so please ignore it, minecraft references cz ima freak, lots of harry potter world references, lots of swearing, mention of insecurities, anxiety, self-sabotaging thoughts, kms/kys jokes, threat jokes(?, daddy issues jokes idk, modern hogwarts, nothing has really sense i swear it's not that deep believe me (😔🙏🏻), english is NOT my first language, I'm still learning, please excuse any mistakes or nonsenses! lmk if i miss something!

updates: monday , thursday , saturday

start date: 2025/04/19

end date: tba!

༺ ⚝ ; taglist is open!

a/n: lately i've been reading a lot of enhypen hp!au, and after rewatching the harry potter saga last week i really needed to make my own, hope everyone likes my little baby.💗

PROFILES:

0A. purebloods and daddy issues

0B. hogwarts boyband

0C. ravenclaw coven

0D. sides

CHAPTERS:

1. yuta's favourite student

2. i am a supporter

3. you can laugh, but you will cry

4. you were what

4.1 the sleeping charm incident

5. first hw with....

6. oh...

7. you two need to talk

8. coven meeting

9. kicking my feet, twirling my hair

10. come get your brat kid

11. pookie is missing

12. and the drama begins

12.1 worry about it later

13. winter break is over

14. idk what's wrong with me

15. you just have to believe in yourself

16. calm before the storm

17. you think?

18. year is over and we're still the same (1.09k wc)

19. literally flabbergasted

20. the storm (0.5k wc)

21. i failed

22. life looks different from here

23. something weird

24. i have a bad feeling

25. the return of lovely yeosang

26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

mtba!

❗ this is a work of mere fiction, the characters attitudes do not reflect at all the artist's personality here mentioned

© kazutteoks 2025.

[mirohs-aurora-society]

Please check out our lovely author Rem's Jongho fic!

Punk Jongho headcanon

》 Pairing: punk!Jongho × sweetheart!reader

》 Genre/AU: angst/high school AU

》 Wordcount: 2,600 words

》 Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

Ok so like I originally had a plot for this. However, it didn't sound good when I laid out the draft in my head so I scrapped it. Here's this instead. :3 btw, there is mention of Stray Kids in here but this is mainly an Ateez fic. This does not define the band in any shape or form. This is merely a made up story.

-> Choi Jongho is the youngest of Ateez, a group of misfits dedicated to making sure they live their lives outside of normal standards. 

-> punk!Jongho, who has been called many names (i.e. trash, weirdo, freak, etc.) by so many students, yet he brushes them off without a single glance. 

-> punk!Jongho, who gets ‘bullied’ by the preppy student body. What were their names? Scattered Orphans? No wait. They’re called Stray Kids. 

-> punk!Jongho, who’s usually the main target of Hyunjin, Jisung (Han), Yongbok (Felix), and Seungmin. 

-> punk!Jongho, who’s the most inked up out of everyone in Ateez yet he hides it underneath the number of layers he wears. 

-> punk!Jongho, who has two sleeves and a collarbone tat. He left his legs alone since he doesn’t feel like getting inked up all over his body. 

-> punk!Jongho, who always smokes outside the school building during lunch and usually gets away with it. If he was ever caught, he’d use his suave demeanor and charm to get  out of detention or community service. 

-> punk!Jongho, who’s always late to his classes. 

“What matters is that I showed up. I could’ve slept in more, but I decided to grace ya’ll with my face.”

-> punk!Jongho, who smirks upon hearing the snickers of his peers and the raucous laughter of his friends after making that snarky remark. 

-> punk!Jongho, who makes his way towards his designated seat, which was all the way in the back.

-> punk!Jongho, who always places his feet up on his desk and rolls his eyes at any goody two-shoes student who tries to tell him to take his feet off the table. 

“And what will you do? Suspend me?”

-> punk!Jongho, who grins in satisfaction upon seeing the student shrink in fear before turning to face the teacher so they can listen to the lecture.

-> punk!Jongho, who never smiles. Ever. 

-> punk!Jongho, who is the first to leave the class once it’s over, bumping into students unapologetically as he brushes past them. 

-> punk!Jongho, who was about to sneak outside so he could smoke when he bumped into you. 

-> punk!Jongho, who was about to roll his eyes and give you a piece of his mind when he heard you speak. 

“Oh my! I’m so sorry! I’m usually not this clumsy, but today seems like the day!”

-> punk!Jongho, who feels his heartbeat rapidly as you stand up fully and fix your hair so he could get a good look at your face. 

-> punk!Jongho, who usually never apologizes, but soon heard himself sincerely say sorry to you. 

-> “It’s ok. If anything, I’m the one that should be sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

-> punk!Jongho, whose voice was softer than usual. He was afraid you’d find the gruffness and scratchiness of his usual tone off-putting. 

-> punk!Jongho, who listened to you forgive him before sticking out your hand. 

“I’m Han Y/N. Pleased to meet you!”

-> punk!Jongho, who almost reeled back in shock as he slowly raised his hand so he could shake yours. 

‘This angel is related to that dickhead? The fuck?’

-> punk!Jongho, who was slightly afraid that his impressive hand strength would hurt your delicate hands. He would hate to injure such a beautiful person like you. 

-> punk!Jongho, who felt a bit sad when you let go. He wanted to know what it was like to hold your hand for a long period of time. 

-> punk!Jongho, who was about to speak up when Jisung showed up. 

“There you are! Was he harassing you?”

-> punk!Jongho, who was about to roll his eyes when he heard you speak to Jisung in a different tone of voice. 

“You always assume the worst, you brat! I am literally 12 minutes older than you!”

-> punk!Jongho, who was impressed with the amount of spunk you had in you, yet he didn’t show it. You definitely weren’t the average ditzy girl he would often run into. 

-> punk!Jongho, who let out a small laugh when he saw you pinch Jisung’s ear and drag him down the hall so you could meet up with the rest of Stray Kids. 

-> punk!Jongho, who found himself talking about you to Seonghwa and Hongjoong, the mom and dad of the group. He knew that if he told the rest of his friends, he would end up either getting teased or roped into a bet that would involve sleeping with you. He may be a misfit, but he respected women. He would tell San, but he would end up getting teased by his brother. How is it that he’s older and yet he’s a lot more childish than the actual child of the group?

-> punk!Jongho, who was surprised to hear the never-ending support from Matz rather than warnings to stay away from you since you were technically associated with Stray Kids. 

“I have a feeling that this one might be the exception. They weren’t repulsed by you nor did they put up with Jisung’s bullshit.” Seonghwa stated. 

“Continue being yourself. If you need guidance, I can help you.” Hongjoong offered. 

-> punk!Jongho, who smiled for the very first time. Matz found the sight endearing. 

-> punk!Jongho, who went home with San with a pep in his step, feeling like a lovesick fool. 

-> punk!Jongho, who did everything in his power to woo you and make you his.

-> punk!Jongho, who smiled at everything you did. From the way you spoke softly to the way you would adjust your glasses every time they were slipping. 

-> punk!Jongho, who couldn’t help but reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and smirked at the way you blushed upon feeling his touch. After all, you had a certain… affinity for his hands. 

-> punk!Jongho, who enjoyed the way your eyes lit up in astonishment as you watched him break an apple with his bare hands easily. 

“If you had tattoos on your hands, it would make the sight even hotter.”

-> punk!Jongho, who couldn’t help but laugh at the way you said that out loud before realizing what you had done and tried to hide away from him due to the embarrassment you felt. 

“Relax, honey. I’m just teasing you. Come on. Show me that smile.”

-> punk!Jongho, who pretended to be hurt when you smacked his shoulder after he said that. 

“It’s not funny, Jjong!”

“Oh but it is. Now come here.”

-> punk!Jongho, who placed his hands on your sides and started wiggling his fingers so he could tickle you. 

-> punk!Jongho, whose heart was beating rapidly at the sound of your melodious laughter. It was music to his ears. 

“Ok ok! You can stop now!”

punk!Jongho, who felt victorious as he saw you smiling widely at him whilst you were calming yourself down. 

punk!Jongho, who felt a disturbance in the calm environment surrounding when he heard Hyunjin’s voice. 

-> “There you are my little pearl! I was getting so worried about you!”

punk!Jongho, who saw you tense up and put a tight smile on your face to hide the cringe that was simmering inside you. 

“Hyunjin, I don’t think she likes that.”

-> “What does it matter to you, Choi? They’re my partner so I get to call them whatever I want! Right, my pearl?” 

-> punk!Jongho, who was filled with dread when he saw Hyunjin lean in to kiss you. The dread was momentarily gone when he saw you turn your head so his lips landed on your cheek. The dread came back, and it brought jealousy with it. Misplaced jealousy that is. Or was it really misplaced when Jongho couldn’t help his newfound feelings towards you? 

“Come on. We’re meeting up with our book club today. Don’t lollygag around this miscreant here.”

-> punk!Jongho, who felt helpless and heartbroken as he saw you gather your things and walk off with Hyunjin, who immediately placed his hand on your butt and squeezed it tightly. His jealousy turned into rage, and he tried to breathe in and out slowly just like you taught him (he told you he had anger issues, and you helped him out with that), but he couldn’t. 

-> punk!Jongho, who punched the tree next to him and breathed heavily. He felt no pain, nor did he feel the splinters digging into his skin. 

“FUCK ARE YOU STARING AT?!” Jongho yelled at a group of kids passing by. Poor kids. 

-> punk!Jongho, who resisted heavily on taking out a pack of cigarettes so he could smoke his stress away. When he told you about that, you immediately lectured him. Normally, he’d brush it off. However, he found himself listening to you and even asked you how he could quit. One of the ways he could start was with a nicotine patch. He was wearing one right now. 

-> punk!Jongho, who stomped his way back to the apartment he shared with his friends.

-> punk!Jongho, who told everyone to fuck off when they saw him seething with anger.

-> punk!Jongho, who was pacing back and forth in his shared room with Hongjoong and Wooyoung before sitting down on the edge of his bed and putting his face in his hands. 

“Jongho? Is everything ok?”

-> punk!Jongho, who looked up to see San with a concerned look on his face. Since Matz was out doing grocery shopping, he had no choice but to confide in him. After all, they were both raised to never keep secrets from each other. 

-> punk!Jongho, who soon started venting about how his feelings for you were beyond friendship and how he wanted to throttle Hyunjin with his bare hands when he witnessed him make you uncomfortable. 

-> punk!Jongho, who saw his brother’s eyes soften with empathy, which prompted him to speak more.

“Sannie, I… I think I might be in love with them.”

“Not might, Jjong. You are.”

“But what can I do?! I don’t know if they feel the same way! I just… I never felt this way before and I’m scared that I might fuck up!”

San felt his heart break at the sight of his baby brother stuttering over his words and feeling so small and helpless. Usually, he’s the most mature out of the group. But now? He’s a lost little boy trying to navigate through his way as his feelings grow. 

“We will figure something out. Ok?”

-> punk!Jongho, who nodded upon hearing San’s reassuring words and hugged him tightly. The Chois were huge, so the embrace was a bit awkward due to the amount of muscle they both had. 

-> punk!Jongho, who spent the rest of the night playing video games with Yunho and Yeosang until he heard the front door open. 

-> punk!Jongho, who whipped his head around quickly upon hearing your voice. When the fuck did you arrive?! Not that he was complaining, but he had a feeling you were here to explain some things. 

-> punk!Jongho, who told Yunho to pause the game before springing up from his seat and running towards where you were. 

-> punk!Jongho, whose eyes widened when he saw the tears in your own eyes as you were being comforted by Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Wooyoung, and… 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Seo Changbin?”

-> punk!Jongho, who listened attentively as you explained that you were the one that asked him to bring you here since he knew Wooyoung, which was true. After all, Changbin used to be a part of Ateez once upon a time. Despite him being kicked out of the group, he was still best friends with Wooyoung. Ateez couldn’t find it within themselves to split up a childhood friendship. So they let them be. On the condition that it remains a secret. And it was still a secret to this day. 

-> punk!Jongho, who clenched his fist tightly as you kept explaining some more. According to you, you were most definitely not dating Hyunjin and you fought with said boy about the scene that he pulled, which led to his poor excuse being that he was trying to protect you (he wasn’t) from Jongho. 

-> punk!Jongho, who tried not to break the countertop in half when you stated that Stray Kids kicked you out of their group and told you that you are no longer welcome to be with them. But Jongho wasn’t upset with that. He was more upset over Jisung not standing up for you when Christopher (Bang Chan) decided that since you’re the so-called ‘guardian of the clowns’ (a completely stupid name), you’d walk with their circus. 

-> punk!Jongho, who felt your hand cover his and rub your thumb over his bandaged knuckles so he could relax. 

“I’m sorry, honey. I knew they were all douchebags, but I didn’t think your own brother had his head so far up his ass that he would just let you be kicked out like that.”

“It’s ok, Jjongie. I’ll be ok. Besides, with them off my back, I get to finally spend time around the rest of the guys. More importantly, my favorite teddy bear.”

-> punk!Jongho, who felt flustered upon hearing the two nicknames you gave him. Oh he was definitely in for a lot more teasing tomorrow morning.

-> punk!Jongho, who was more than happy to have you stay here within the ATZ condo. On the condition that Wooyoung moves in with Yunho and Yeosang since he trusts Hongjoong enough to be platonic and polite towards you. Wooyoung can too! He just… prefers not to. The last thing Jongho needed was for this rabid barking boy to flirt with you constantly. That would make his blood pressure skyrocket. 

-> punk!Jongho, who settled into living with you easily. Meaning he could hit on you and make you flustered with simple touches or sensual words in your ears every chance he gets. 

-> punk!Jongho, who finally asks you out and you were more than happy to accept his proposal since you felt the same way. 

-> punk!Jongho, who saw you change drastically. In terms of outfits and aesthetics. Gone were the sundresses, bows in your tied up and overly sprayed hair, and flats that you’d come into school with. The sundresses were replaced with cropped band tees and plaid skirts or leather skirts, your hair was let down and had a wolf cut (Jongho definitely didn’t pop a boner upon seeing your new look), and your flats were replaced with either Vans, Converse, or combat boots. 

-> punk!Jongho, who saw you sport a belly button piercing (ok so maybe he did pop a boner when he saw that), a body chain, many rings, and your first ever tattoo. 

-> punk!Jongho, who felt his heart swell with so much love when he saw that your first tattoo was of his initials and the date you became romantic partners over a lotus flower surrounded by thorns. 

-> punk!Jongho, who decided to show off his own tattoos, including a new one on his right hand. The new tat he sported was your initials. 

-> punk!Jongho, who never failed to make sure to use his hands so he could pleasure you and make sure that you were his and his only. 

-> punk!Jongho, who would use his hands in so many ways. From tucking your hair behind your ears to gripping your hips as he fucked you either against a wall or into the mattress. 

-> punk!Jongho, who would use those same hands to beat up Hyunjin. After all, no one hurts his partner. Ever. 

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Dancing Like Butterfly Wings

ateez ot8 x reader

genres and warnings: fluff, a sprinkle of angst in the beginning, slice of life, highschool au, coming of age, just teens having fun, mentions of smoking

word count: 15k

synopsis: you did not expect to basically get adopted by a group of boys when you transfer to your new school. at first, you think they are friends with you to prove sth to their rival-of-sorts, but later you find a home in them.

a/n: i must thank @eightmakesonebraincell for enabling this. it was genuinely so fun to write this without worrying about the plot and plot twists and worldbuilding.

Spring is a marker for new beginnings. The cherry blossoms bloom in all their pastel pink glory, the petals covering the streets in their wake. Some children try to avoid stepping on them and it turns into a game– anyone who steps on more than five petals on their way to school loses. Teens keep their heads raised up to the sky, having heard the famous saying about the cherry blossoms; if you catch a petal, your first love becomes true.

Some of them haven’t had their first love yet. They are on their way to school, junior year, just like you. They are struggling to catch a petal with the hopes that the boy or the girl they said goodbye to before the year break ends up in their class, maybe even gets seated right next to them. With that little bubble of hope in their hearts, they jump around and their giggles echo in the streets. 

The old folks who are just out for their usual morning walk or to see their children or grandchildren off laugh along in reminiscence and if you stop by to admire the scene, it seems straight out of a musical.

However, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and you are not a great appreciator of beauty. Some might even say you’re not worthy of being called a beholder at all. You should have been– as an old friend had the honour of telling you once– 'I don't know, a snail!'. You dodge the little kids who jump so unpredictably yet rather expertly, avoid the students who look to be about your age like the plague and somehow, make your way to your new school without an eventful morning.

You’re clutching onto the shoulder straps of your bag as if someone would notice that you need help. However, the guard urges you to rush inside as the school bell is about to ring. With a deep breath, you take one step, and another, and then another–

Until someone bumps against your shoulders and you find yourself losing balance, a startled little sound escaping your mouth as you find yourself pulled by gravity. Another pair of hands grabs your bag, propelling you up before you end up kissing the pavement. You look towards your right where the assailant– you have no better word in your vocabulary to call the rowdy boy who bumped against you and almost killed you– stands. He looks genuinely worried for a hot second but when he realises that he has not caused fatal damage, he bursts into a feline grin, tells you ‘my bad!’ and continues to rush towards the school building. 

You hardly have time to look at your saviour. Everything is happening too quickly. He makes sure you’re steady before he zooms off after the assailant. All you can make out is that he is tall and very light on his feet, the navy blue uniform jacket in his hand almost flying in the air behind him.

While you are processing how you almost made it to your first day at your new school with a bust lip, you instinctively wrap your arms around your chest as more boys rush past you, calling after the duo. You shut your eyes and take a deep breath, hoping that your junior year will be uneventful, that this school year will pass by with you unnoticed, a part of the background. And you pray that no one recognises you here. 

You didn’t exactly leave your old school on a good note.

However, when you finally find your class after a trip to the teachers’ office and muster the courage to stop a random, kind-looking girl to ask for directions, you notice a few things.

Firstly, the classroom is not as big as your old classroom, which means that there are less students and more chances of people noticing and remembering you. You will have to try harder to merge into the background, but–

The duo from earlier is in this class, with the tall boy recognisable because he is not facing you. He turns to look at the time and you meet eyes for a second, though he probably does not recognise you either. He has a puppy-like charm to him in the way his eyes curve when he smiles. You remain frozen at the entrance, willing the other boy to not notice you, but he does and offers you a cheerful wave. You don’t respond in any way, a tap on your shoulder making you restrain a groan.

Upon turning, you find that it’s your homeroom teacher, the one you had just talked to in the office. She smiles warmly at you.

“Good timing. Come in, let’s introduce you to your class.”

“But–”

The words get stuck in your mouth when Miss Ji claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. The boys and girls settle down and you are the only one awkwardly standing in the front, fiddling with your fingers and finding it hard to swallow the anxiety.

“Alright, let’s see… oh, Nabi is back in my class. That’s good, and… Seonghwa! How wonderful, but– oh, no…”

“Oh, yes, Miss Ji!” The boy who bumped into you earlier is quick to respond. “You cannot keep separating the eight of us every year! It’s not going to work anymore.”

Miss Ji seems to consider his statement. Was that a challenge? 

“Come on, Miss Ji,” the tall boy pleads and you count the boys who are nodding their heads in unison and pleading. Yes, exactly eight of them. “We will be nice to you. We promise.”

“Only if you insist, Yunho, because you are my favourite,” she says and Yunho grins, receiving congratulatory pats from his friends. You observe them with mild curiosity. It looks like they are old friends, which you suppose is nice. 

Except there is an empty seat in the middle of them which could be your potential spot for the rest of your year. There is also an empty seat by the window and you would prefer that, but–

Miss Ji asks you to introduce yourself and you bow to the class, clear your throat and say your name in a robotic tone. 

“I transferred from Ilsan Tech High School. I hope we will have a good year ahead.”

The class claps for you, but it’s a little dull. Still, the girls look at you with a sort of vulnerable excitement in their eyes, perhaps wondering if you could be the new addition to their group. You don’t smile back at anyone, making sure to disappoint them because it will hurt less if you do it now. The boys mostly appear uninterested, too busy with their gadgets except the assailant who is grinning devilishly. 

“Alright, you can take the seat next to Wooyoung there,” Miss Ji points and you follow her hand to where she points, your heart sinking a bit dramatically when you realise that the name Wooyoung belongs to your assailant. 

“Uh… is there a chance that I can take the empty seat in the corner instead?”

“Oh, that one?” One of the girls in the front points and answers for the teacher. “That seat belongs to Yuna. She’s probably in the nurse room right now.”

“Ah…” you offer a weak smile as a thanks and begrudgingly make your way towards the assailant who seems too happy to have you to his right. You take your seat in the single row, in front of the girl Miss Ji named earlier, Nabi. The group of eight is on your left and right, with another boy in front of you who doesn’t seem to be a part of this little gang.

Your homeroom teacher details what she expects from this junior year in the present term, asks all of you to take your studies seriously this year and to start preparing for what senior year brings in advance– to start thinking about your future. While she talks, a paper plane flies over your head and you have to focus hard to not let the boys’ incessant giggles get to you. 

Miss Ji shakes her head at the bunch and says, “I’m personally going to separate you guys if you don’t cooperate with me.”

“Yes ma’am!” The eight of them respond in synchrony and your eyelid twitches involuntarily. As soon as Miss Ji leaves the room, Wooyoung taps on your desk. 

“Sorry for ruining your morning,” he says with a hand over his chest. “Shall I treat you to some bread and strawberry milk today to make up for it?”

“Uh… no thanks,” you offer him a weak smile. “It’s okay.”

“So you do admit that he ruined your morning,” the boy who sits next to Wooyoung leans forward, pushing Wooyoung back a bit so he can see you better. “I’m Jongho. If anyone bothers you, you can tell me.”

“Well… right now you’re both bothering me,” you mumble and the duo clutch their hearts dramatically. You wonder if there’s a theatre class in this school because if there is and this duo isn’t a part of it, the theatre class is missing out on some talent. “I’ll be fine, thank you very much.”

“Come on, boys, don’t bother her,” the voice on your right says and you look at the boy who’s too pretty to be called handsome. “Let her be. It’s her first day, don’t overwhelm her.”

Seonghwa. He seems like the sane one out of the bunch. You give him a subtle nod to thank him and he just smiles in response, arranging the books on his desk neatly and tucking the long strands of his hair back. 

However, you find two packs of bread and two flavours of milk on your desk during recess either way. You returned to a mostly empty class after going to the toilet first (and almost getting lost on your way back). You consider shoving the goods inside Wooyoung’s desk but you figure that if you just accept these, he’ll stop bothering you for good. 

With that thought, you open the vanilla bread and chocolate milk and enjoy your lunch in peace. There is only a group of friends at the front eating their lunch and chatting among themselves, ignoring your presence and you don’t pay attention to them. You finish your lunch and rest your head on the desk for a much-needed post-meal nap when someone dares to tap on your shoulder and interrupt your peace.

It’s hardly been half a day and you’re already at your wits’ ends. You prepare to snap at the person because you’re sure it’s Wooyoung or one of his friends, but to your surprise, you find that it’s the girl who sits behind you, Nabi.

“Have you had lunch?”

“Uh, yeah,” you straighten. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted you to know that if you need anything, any sort of help, you can ask me,” she says with a trademark smile that you can sense is just for show. Her long, straight hair gets flipped back as she looks over her shoulders. “I know Wooyoung can be a bit too much. If you ever want to switch seats, you can do that with me.”

Now, you’re not a fan of Wooyoung, but if she knows that Wooyoung can be too much, why would she offer to switch seats with you? She can’t be a saint, could she?

You tell her that you will think about it. And think you do.

Over the course of the next few days as you struggle to keep up with your studies, adjust to this class and train yourself to think of the group of boys around you as background noise (even though they are anything but with their constant check-ins and every day treats on your desks because apparently, you have not verbally forgiven Wooyoung so he is bound to be your slave for ‘eternity’), you notice one thing.

Nabi cares for Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa does not care for Nabi. In fact, it looks like the group of them have beef with Nabi. 

Nabi and Seonghwa, you find, are the best students in the class. The ‘model’ students. They are also vice president and president respectively. Seonghwa tries to be civil, but Nabi reads too much into his kindness and mistakes it for something else. Her level of infatuation with Seonghwa is such that she is willing to risk damaging her eardrums just so she gets to sit next to Seonghwa.

You also learn that Nabi does not like you very much, and maybe that’s why the boys keep coddling you even though you keep snapping at them. 

But you weigh your options. What is the worst the yapper who sits next to you could do? Girls can be dangerous when mad, that you know very well from your experience in your previous school. Girls can be very, very mean to their own people. 

Of course, boys can be mean and violent too, but they generally don’t bother with girls. Or maybe, you’re just a traditional stereotypical arse who thinks she knows too much when your only experience is from your previous school. Either way, you want to spend the rest of your school life silently, without coming out of the shadows. You don’t want sworn enmity from Nabi or, well, be a cockblocker. If she wants to attempt to woo Seonghwa when it seems like all he cares about is his studies or the clumsy boy Hongjoong who sits next to him, you’re not gonna be the wall that prevents her from doing so. You’ll let Seonghwa’s other friends play that. 

So one moody Monday morning, you catch Nabi in the hallway and let her know that you can switch seats with her. The joy on her face is innocent and you almost smile. Her group of friends cheer for her and with that, you go to drop your bag in the class and find a quiet spot until the bell rings.

None of the boys have arrived in class yet. You do smile to yourself at the thought of how they will react. Maybe you’ll like your spot between San and Mingi better. They appear intimidating but it didn’t take you long to realise that they’re the softest of their group, thanks to the duo making sure you don’t feel overwhelmed by Wooyoung who has made it his life’s mission to serve you.

The sound of the gentle breeze and the rustling of spring leaves lull you into a calm headspace and you soak in every bit of these few serene moments, sitting under the tree as your head rocks to the rhythm of nature. How nice is it to find a quiet spot like this in a busy place like a school? You wonder if someone shares this spot with you at some other time– there are signs of life here. A wrapper of a candy that someone must have forgotten to throw, a stick wedged in one of the pots with someone’s name on it–

“There she is!”

Your hackles rise at the all too familiar voice of a certain self-proclaimed slave. You don’t want to be a master. You don’t want to feel like a Queen. So instead of addressing your subject, you gather your things and disappear into the maze that is this school.

Each step you take is urgent and there is a battle rhythm playing in your head– when did that happen? You march forward more like a soldier than a lord, head hanging low and eyes suspicious as they scan the crowd and guide you in your navigation to the classroom. You check the time– maybe if you get to your new seat before the boys, right before the teacher comes in and they can no longer bother you–

Before you can take a turn, a pair of large hands grab you by your upper arms and rotate you until you face the left, steering you towards the stairs as you swallow your gasp. You have hardly craned your neck upwards to identify your new assailant when a baseball cap gets fixed over your head. You mumble a few words of protest but you have no choice but to get taken to this unknown location that is a suspicious-looking room on the upper level.

You shut your eyes and brace yourself for what’s next when the door opens. However, you open your eyes almost immediately as you’re hit by the smell of baked treats. Did you get portalled to a bakery–

And there is your servant, clad in an apron as if he baked these treats himself here. The expressions on your face must be theatrical because the boys stifle their laugh as you look around. You have definitely portalled to another world, because there is no way a room like this exists in this school that seems to be barely holding itself.

The room isn’t too big but the shelves have been lined to the walls and decorated with ornaments. You spot a few snow globes and far too many plushies of each and every kind and colour, and realise that someone must have an obsession– and then there’s lego figures on another shelf, neatly stacked and colour coordinated. The lower shelves contain comics and at the corner by the window, there is an old sofa that is covered with pink sheets and cushions. 

There is a basketball net attached to a makeshift hoop and you spot a basketball and balls of all sizes lying around. You were aware the school had a basketball team and if you think hard, you might actually recall who among these boys play in the team, except…

You are kind of distracted by the baked goods and cans of flavoured drinks that are neatly arranged on the table in the middle of the room.

A hideout. That is what this must be. 

You finally look behind you to confirm the identity of your new assailant and gasp when you find that it’s Yunho– the other model student. He grins a bit too wide at your annoyance and you turn to face Wooyoung and Jongho who seem to be the masterminds behind this. 

“What is wrong with you people?”

“Wrong seems to be an overstatement,” Jongho pleads his case. “Off, maybe. Not right. But not wrong.”

“Why did you switch seats with–”

Jongho smacks Wooyoung’s chest with an open palm while standing next to him, unmoving, his eyes never leaving yours. The loud thump of his attack echoes dramatically off the walls of this small room and you can hear distant giggles being masked. As Wooyoung doubles over and retreats, Jongho continues to smile innocently while your jaw all but drops to the floor. 

Yunho, hands still on your arms, steers you to the chair and makes you sit before dragging another seat close to you, offering you a croissant. You, still watching Wooyoung worriedly as he gathers his energy and his pride, subconsciously start to nibble on it. When the chocolate filling hits you, you finally blink and inspect the croissant. It’s actually good–

“Made by yours truly,” says Wooyoung in a weak voice. You make an impressed face and figure that since you’re trapped, you might as well enjoy the treat. San comes over to set some cans in front of you and you point at the cola which he opens with one finger effortlessly before setting it in front of you and you purse your lips to keep from smiling.

“Can you answer my questions now?” You ask Jongho when you’re done finishing the croissant and he offers you a cupcake with salted caramel frosting next. “What is this? A bribe? You’re trying to break my morale with baked goods?”

“It seems to be working,” Yeosang comments from your right where he’s sitting by the window next to Mingi and Hongjoong, who is half asleep as per usual. He doesn’t seem to be a morning person and consistently naps throughout half the classes too.

You shoot him a glare but you don’t deny it. The more you eat these treats, the more relaxed you become. Maybe this is how the special officers should treat their spies. 

Seonghwa hovers around the lot of you, nervously moving around and fixing things that do not need to be fixed, stealing glances at you. You look over to Yeosang. “Maybe you should calm that one first.”

He laughs with an approving clap and you finally break into a smile, though you are quick to turn it into a dirty look as you lock eyes with Wooyoung. “You tell me what’s going on or I’m leaving.”

“You can’t leave–”

“Why did you switch seats with Nabi?”

You look at Jongho. “Like hell I can’t leave,” you say and turn to leave just to prove a point but Seonghwa is quick to rush over to the door while San and Yunho basically manhandle you back into the seat despite your protests. 

“This is bullying!” You yell at them and they quickly raise their hands in surrender. You turn to Wooyoung, feeling anger rise up in your throat. “Why can’t I switch seats with Nabi? I’m going to be honest, I don’t like my current spot. I would have preferred a corner or an end seat, so when she offered, I wanted to accept right away.”

“What made you hesitate?” Mingi asks, the first time he directly converses with you. 

You take a deep breath. “That does not matter–”

“It does,” he asserts. “So tell us what made you hesitate and if it makes sense, we’ll let you be.”

“Mingi–” Wooyoung warns but gets ignored, the room falling silent as the boys wait for your response. 

“Look. I don’t know why you guys are giving me special treatment, but I figured that it’s got something to do with Nabi. I know she wants to sit next to Seonghwa,” you admit, meeting eyes with said boy meekly as he comes into your vision. “I don’t know if you guys hate her or something, but it’s got nothing to do with me, and I would honestly risk your wrath than hers. She doesn’t seem like a very nice person.”

“Oh, you don’t want to risk our wrath–” Wooyoung begins but gets interrupted by Seonghwa.

“She isn’t,” he admits in a soft, quiet voice which makes you shift your attention to him. He appears nervous, his eyes darting over to Hongjoong who is watching the scene unfold in front of him with one eye open. “She… can be persistent. It’s been a while since the eight of us have been in one class, and yet she’s here to torture me again.”

“Torture you?” You question. 

“She follows him to every class. She’s got connections so she makes it happen,” Hongjoong answers for his friend, folding his arms. “Call it an obsession, call it infatuation, but she’s willing to hurt us and our group just to get Seonghwa’s attention.”

“Have you… tried talking to her?” You look at Wooyoung. “You could. You would certainly get the point across.”

“She’s as tough as Wooyoung, if not more,” San scoffs. “She won’t back down. She just wants Seonghwa to be her friend first. She wants to study with him because he’s better than her in some areas. Where he’s not… he takes help from Yunho or someone else but Nabi, and that pisses her off.”

“Sounds like a nutcase,” you comment. “But now you see why I have no choice but to accept her demand to switch seats. She will ruin my life, and I just barely got away with my life getting ruined at my previous school, so I’m sorry but Nabi is your old friend and enemy. Deal with her yourselves.”

Hurt flashes across Seonghwa’s eyes and you almost take back your statement, but it is the survival of the fittest here and you’re not the fittest. So survive you must, however that may be.

“She can’t hurt you. We will protect you and make sure that does not happen,” Yunho speaks. A promise, and your heart almost flutters at the determination in his voice. “We can’t do much since we don’t have the power to get to Nabi directly, but what we can do is make you stay in your current seat. Granted, she’s still like a shadow hovering over Seonghwa from her actual seat, but it’s far better than being right next to him and bothering him every minute of the day.”

“He bothers me every minute of the day,” you point at Wooyoung and he laughs in disbelief. “I don’t complain.”

“I don’t stalk you–”

“How did you find me today?”

“We searched for you, not stalked you, you fool!” Wooyoung retaliates and you straighten up.

“Fool?” You gape at his audacity. “How dare–”

“Guys, stop,” Seonghwa butts in and makes you both sit back down before things escalate. “She’s right. It’s not her responsibility to act as a buffer for us.”

“A sane person in this group,” you clap. 

“But…” Seonghwa purses his lips guiltily as he looks at you. “We’re not letting you leave until you agree that you won’t switch seats with Nabi.”

The gasp that escapes your mouth is one of betrayal. “You’ll miss all your classes.”

“I never wanted to be the model student,” Seonghwa flicks his bangs away dramatically, and in that moment, you think that you see a little bit of Wooyoung in him. But as you look around, watching their proud faces as they smile at Seonghwa, you realise two things.

They’re all the same.

They won’t back down.

“Why me?” You ask in defeat, finally accepting the cupcake and Jongho smiles like a proud father. 

“Because sweetheart,” Wooyoung leans forward, spooning some chocolate chips to sprinkle over your cupcake. “I have a feeling that you’re just like us. And I’m never wrong. I didn’t become your servant for no reason,” he says, offering you some tissues and you listen to his reasoning as you eat the cupcake. “I recognise the glint in your eyes. You’re kind of… a menace yourself too.”

You narrow your eyes but don’t deny anything and he takes note of that. 

“I don’t know what happened to you or why you’ve decided to just hide in this school now,” he continues, “But I’m not going to let you create a shell around yourself when you’re a gleaming pearl. It’s just a shame that not everybody can see that.”

Your lips curve into an ‘oh’. “Didn’t realise you were a poet too. Apart from being a certified yapper.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” he points at the table. “Baked last night just for you. I got a whiff of your evil little plan to switch seats.”

“How?” 

Wooyoung simply smiles in response which makes you wonder if one of his talents is reading minds.

What you don’t realise is that you had been far too obvious. 

It was Yeosang who overheard your conversation with Nabi about switching seats. At first, they thought that you would switch instantly like any normal person, but when you didn’t, they started to think that you were onto something. They watched you observe Seonghwa and Nabi for the following days and Wooyoung decided to continue with his self-proclaimed servant persona, just to annoy Nabi, since she could have been getting these treats too. 

The more they interacted with you, the more they liked you– first, it was because it was so obvious that Nabi had an instant dislike for you. You were sitting next to Seonghwa– not right next to him, but still close enough. You were struggling to fit in and Seonghwa, ever the saint, was guiding you academically, in a very subtle, casual and easygoing manner, though Wooyoung always butted in and made things a little more… fun. They also noticed how you were able to match the freak of the freakiest freak in their group, Wooyoung, and decided that he needed competition. 

What really sealed the deal was when you confronted Nabi when you found her going through Seonghwa’s notes while he and his friends were absent from the class. It was something you did without realising the implications– you simply asked Nabi if Seonghwa knew that she was going through his notes. She smiled and said something about how they’re old friends and didn’t mind stuff like this, but the way she immediately went back to her seat confirmed your suspicions. The boy who sat in front of you told Seonghwa about the little interaction. 

So it was no wonder that you were here today, trapped with this sugar bait with orders not to leave the room until you agreed to go back to your original seating position. If the boys were going to miss all the classes today with you, then so be it. You were not going to back down.

“Toilet break?” You ask after a couple of hours, seated near the window on a chair with a comic in your hand. Mingi seemed to have quite the collection. 

Wooyoung narrows his eyes at you, suspecting your every move. You raise a brow in challenge. “You won’t be denying a girl her toilet break, will you?”

“Guards,” Wooyoung called and Yunho and San got up almost mechanically. “Accompany her to the toilet. Make sure you use the one on the upper levels so she does not have an exit.”

“Yes sir!” San and Yunho proceed to station themselves in front of the door, waiting for you. You roll your eyes so hard that it sends a wave of pain in your head. 

“I’m also going to be making a stop at the canteen,” you announce. “I think I’ll be sick if I eat any more of those sweets.”

“Oh, yes, please,” Yeosang takes out a pen and notepad and starts scribbling something on it. You watch him with mild interest and when he tears the page and hands it to you, you realise with horror that it’s his order. “While you’re at it, get us something too.”

“You get them,” you tuck the paper into San’s pocket. “Or Wooyoung does. I’m not the slave here.”

San chuckles and opens the door for you and you take a moment to breathe in with your hands on your hips as if finally free from prison. The boys station themselves outside the toilets while you freshen up and you take your sweet, sweet time, spending too long in front of the mirror. However, when you step out and find them unfazed, you realise that you should up your game.

It is recess time and it’s crowded. You could easily make a run for it. Before you can take that defiant step forwards, San and Yunho both link their arms with yours and you gape at them in disbelief. 

“Not so quick, Missy,” Yunho teases. “I could practically smell the scheming.”

You make a face at him and let them steer you to the cafeteria. On the way, you try again. “50 bucks each. Let me go.”

“Try again,” San says. 

“70. I don’t have any more.”

“That’s your loss,” he pats your head and you barely contain an animalistic growl. When you reach the cafeteria, though, they let you go.

Yunho gives you a warning look, reminding you that they’re trusting you for now. “Let’s divide and conquer. You grab the snacks. We’ll get the trays. Let’s have a meal before we go back.”

That is a tempting offer. The cafeteria meal here isn’t bad at all. 

The three of you split and you go to the other end to grab some drinks and snacks with the money the boys gave you. You struggle to carry everything and drop a packet of chips but someone is kind enough to pick it for you–

Of course it’s Nabi. 

You suddenly get why Seonghwa dislikes her. She really does watch and hover. 

“Are you sure you can eat that much?” She teases but you let her help you. You spot San at the far end of the room, waiting for you and Yunho. 

“Uh, these are obviously not for me. Not all of them.”

“Oh, have you made some friends then?” She asks coyly. “I didn’t see you in class today.”

At that moment, you dislike her perhaps as much as Wooyoung does. Her voice is annoying, her acting is bad. She’s pretending too hard to be nice. 

You also let the little things that she does get to you. The ones you were previously consciously ignoring. The way she pokes her things against your back during class and claims she did it by mistake. The way she accidentally kicks your chair far too often, especially when it’s clear that you’re about to doze off. 

“Why, yes, I have,” you return her smile and she looks surprised. “Can you help me get these to them?” 

“Of course,” she frowns. “I didn’t realise you had any friends.”

“Oh, it happened too suddenly,” you say and when you navigate closer to where San and Yunho are both sitting now, her steps grow hesitant. 

San and Yunho frown at the sight of Nabi accompanying you and they almost think that you have betrayed them. However, you loudly say, “These are my new friends. She was just wondering who I’m carrying so many snacks for.”

“You guys came to school today? All of you?” She asked, suspicious eyes flickering among the three of you. “Where have you been?”

“Narnia,” Yunho says and San smiles, not offering anything else to Nabi. She shoots you a glare and drops the snacks on the table, pivots on her heels and leaves. You curb a smile and glance over at the duo who look far too proud of you.

“What?” You ask with a short laugh as you dig into the meal. They don’t say much, just give you one of their chicken croquettes each as a token of gratitude and you laugh in disbelief, shaking your head. “That’s it? That’s how easy it is to win over you guys?”

“Do you know what influence Nabi has?” San reminded you. “The queen bee of this school. No one does what you just did.”

“I didn’t do anything,” you say with a pout. “I just told her you guys are my friends.”

“What she heard was that you have been skipping classes with Seonghwa,” Yunho explained. “She’s gonna be so mad. She might even report us to the teachers, in which case, get ready for a punishment tomorrow, y/n.”

“No way,” you scoffed. “That’s… petty.”

The boys don’t need to remind you to go back with them to their hideout. You naturally walk with them, learning more about this school and its ‘power hierarchy’ from the duo. Before you know it, you are back to the hideout and spilling the tea to the rest who appreciate your bold move and thank you for bringing these snacks for them.

In the midst of conversation, fun banters and games, you find yourself wondering why you were ever hostile towards them or apprehensive of the idea that you could still make friends here. Granted, you are not sure if you are ready to be a part of their group and be associated with them, or be called a friend by them, but…

You do not mind this one bit. 

Sitting around the table with them, having dragged it near the lone sofa for more space, eight pairs of eyes follow the path of the guava-flavoured candy which San tosses into the air for you. You almost miss but are quick to catch it in your mouth and the room fills with the echoes of your laughter, friendly banter ensuing when the boys quarrel about who is a better shot. You take your turn and you are cheered on, and it almost feels like you’re with a group of childhood friends. It almost feels like these are your people and that you are never meant to be separated from them.

Going back to class is forgotten. The whole fiasco about switching back to your original seat is also long forgotten. You simply have fun for the first time in a while. You look up at the ceiling when you laugh, finding butterflies painted all over them and you briefly think that this group of friends is as free and joyful as butterflies.

“Ayo, sunbae!” 

Wooyoung calls and the poor girl who was obviously hiding with her friends from the rest of the school to sneak in a smoke curses under her breath and drops the cigarette, crushing it under her shoe. She rolls her eyes once, hard, before plastering what looks like a genuine smile. 

“Wooyoung! My favourite junior,” she spreads her arms and Wooyoung shares a rather manly hug with the senior, bumping fists with the other girl and the boys. He either has not noticed the cigarette or is purposely ignoring it, but at the same time, you appreciate how the senior hid the cigarette– or maybe it was because of the foreign presence (you).

You watch the interaction with mild curiosity and one of the boys poke you in the back, propelling you forwards. The senior regards you with interest and scans you slowly before turning to Wooyoung with a questioning look.

“This,” he says with his hand extended towards you and you are once again gently pushed in front of Wooyoung, “is y/n. The latest addition to the group.”

You make a show of rolling your eyes, asserting that you still don’t consider yourself a part of their tightly-knit group, but Wooyoung and the rest aren’t having any of it. The senior, however, catches that.

“Are you being bullied by them?” She asks. “Blink twice if you need help.”

You blink thrice.

“Come sit,” she says, patting the space next to her and you gladly accept. You tell her that you like her hair very much and she smiles. The red highlights in her hair really accentuate her edgy appearance. 

“If any one of these hooligans bother you, you come to me,” she says and extends her hand. You shake it. “The name’s Yuna.”

“Hooligans?” This time, San beats Wooyoung in squaring up against the seniors but one glare from the girls humbles him right up. He shrugs all too casually, scratching the back of his neck with the pout on his mouth deepening with each passing second. “I’m not a bad guy.”

“Did you forget the time you almost made Inhyuk sunbaenim cry?”

Bewildered, you look at Yuna and then at San who looks anything but the hooligan Yuna claims that he is. If Yuna is referring to this Inhyuk dude as her senior, he must have been at least two years San’s senior. And he… almost made him cry? 

You reckon that Hongjoong notices the temptation in your eyes– the temptation to ask for an explanation. He fixes his glasses rather proudly, smacking San’s back to remind him to straighten his shoulders. 

“He has got nothing to be sorry about,” Hongjoong claims.

“Inhyuk sunbaenim was a bully, so we got our small-eyed duo to knock some sense into him.”

You don’t know why but your gaze shifts to Mingi and he looks betrayed. He smacks his foot on the ground as he calls you out and you raise your hands in surrender while the rest burst out in laughter. 

“We keep them to intimidate bullies,” Yuna explains. “Them with me and Hyorin over there,” she points at her classmate, a tall girl with too many piercings. You wonder how the school allows that. “We’re the guards of sorts.”

“They don’t seem like the type to win in a fight, though,” you point at San and Mingi. 

“They’re not,” Yuna laughs. “Jongho and Yeosang step in during the real fights.”

Jongho, you get. But Yeosang comes as a surprise and he grins shyly, further proving your point. There is no way he possesses the ability to harm a living, breathing thing.

“Anyways,” Yuna drapes her arm around your shoulder and you curb a grin. “I hope these boys have been treating you well. It’s good to hear that you’re a part of our group now, but let me know if you want out. I know these shitheads can be clingy.”

“Yeah, or if you’re a weird one, let us know in advance,” one of the senior boys says.

“We don’t want another Nabi on our asses,” the other boy quips and you narrow your eyes, watching your boys shift with unease.

“Intak and Channie never know when to shut up,” Yuna complains.

“What happened with Nabi?” You ask and Yuna looks back and forth between you and the boys.

“So they told you the mild version of it, huh?” She laughs. “Not my story to tell, but she’s a real piece of work.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised that after Nabi, they’re open to having a girl in their group,” Intak says and Hyorin agrees. “I think they’re friends with our girls because they don’t consider them… as girls, if I’m honest–”

“Hey!” Hyorin takes off her slipper and chucks it at Intak. Chan shrugs, point proven. 

“That’s not true!” Yeosang argues. “Jongho still has a crush on–”

“Oh, look,” Jongho points at the distance. It must be divine intervention that the devil you were just thinking about is seen walking with her friends towards the basketball court. Thus Jongho succeeds in distracting everyone. Nabi– the divine devil in question– does not notice the group of you. You hear a muffled scream and follow Jongho’s gaze.

Yep. He most definitely has a crush on Yuna.

“One day when I’m no longer bound by the school rules,” Yuna begins, cracking her knuckles. “I’ll have a good conversation with Nabi. Girl to girl.” 

She clenches her jaw as silence ensues with the weight of her threat hanging in the air. However, Yuna soon breaks out into a smile when she turns her attention to you. 

“Got any questions? Anything you’d like to know? I’ve got everything– secrets and dirt on everyone.”

“You don’t want her as your enemy,” Wooyoung concludes and then grabs your hand and pulls you towards him. “Let’s go. I just wanted to introduce you so she can keep an eye out for you.”

“Okay, firstly,” you begin, “I can take care of myself–”

“Ooh.”

“Damn.”

“Tell him.”

You give the seniors a side-eye and continue. “Secondly, I think eight sets of eyes ‘looking out for me’ are enough. Why do you think I’ll ever get in trouble when you guys never leave me alone?”

“Give her some space, boys,” Yuna pleads in your case. “Let her breathe.”

Wooyoung grunts in disappointment but reluctantly lets go of your hand. You scoff but he seems too tired to match your energy and you wonder if he took it to heart.

You soon learn that their idea of giving space to you seems to differ from yours by a whole lot. They have definitely taken it to heart– at least some of them.

You can’t tell if they’re doing it on purpose, but Wooyoung is not bothering you every minute of the day, and it’s bothering you now. When you find yourself worrying about this, you smack your head. Isn’t this what you wanted in the first place? 

But he hardly acknowledges you anymore. When something funny happens in the class, he no longer looks at you though you find yourself looking at him. Jongho is not very talkative either. The rest are just the same but still a bit… distant. 

You’re positive that they’ve misunderstood you, and you find yourself sitting in the secret hideout alone, bunking one of the lessons to just rethink your friendship with them again. Nabi sure seems to be making the most out of your misery, if it can be called a misery in the first place.

“Trouble in paradise?” She asked one day. You just made a face at her and luckily, Hongjoong called you over at the same time. At least Nabi didn’t get the satisfaction of rubbing it in your face.

You are also a bit curious about what happened with Nabi. You even debate asking her– why is she so obsessed with this group? 

You’ve heard enough rumours now. Since you’ve adjusted to the class in the past couple of months, the girls talk sometimes. You’ve heard about how Nabi, Seonghwa, Yunho and Hongjoong used to have a study group but something happened after which they broke their friendship with Nabi. That something probably has to do with Seonghwa, you reckon, but you can’t probe since it seems to be a sensitive topic.

You don’t know exactly how long you spend spacing out in the room, but nobody joins you. You wonder if it’s just that the excitement of being friends has died down, but you kind of miss everybody. School doesn’t feel like fun anymore. It’s only been a few days, but everything has started to feel different. You can’t focus on your studies properly– or anything, for that matter.

While you think about what went wrong and what you can fix– if there’s any fixing to be done in the first place– you play with the softball, chucking it in the makeshift net and missing. You try again and again, but you only manage to make a successful shot a handful of times. One time, the ball misses and hits a frame on the shelf and you flinch, wondering if you broke something.

Upon inspecting, it is a group photo that seems to have been captured in a photobooth. The eight of them are squished against each other and you can barely see Jongho and Yeosang but they seem so happy and carefree there. You don’t realise how big of a smile you’re sporting until you catch your reflection in the frame and your smile drops. 

You want to be a part of this. If they’ve taken the first step towards you– no, if they’ve taken so many steps towards you, it is ungrateful of you to keep walking away from them.

Adamant to make amends of sorts, you go to the canteen and get eight packs of bread and eight packs of flavoured milk for the boys. You know exactly the kind of bread they like and the flavour of milk that they like– each one of them. You go to class and place a pack of bread and milk on their tables– they must be getting changed for gym. Nabi eyes you with curiosity but you don’t pay much heed to her, although you ask her if she’s hungry. She only grunts in response and you stifle a smile. 

When the boys return, they hesitate in their tracks. Some of them thank you and open up their snacks. Wooyoung doesn’t really regard the treats and you fold your arms.

“Are you angry with me?”

He meets eyes with you for the first time in a while. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Well…” you shrug in mild discomfort. “You’re not… talkative anymore. Not with me.”

Wooyoung suppresses a smile and rests his head on his hand rather cockily. “Do you miss me?”

You scoff in disbelief but seven expectant pairs of eyes are fixed on you and you fidget nervously. “I mean… yeah? I do. What about it? Can we just go back to normal?”

Wooyoung thinks for a good few moments. He nods, and to your horror, the rest of the boys– all seven of them– produce cash out of their pockets and set it on Wooyoung’s desk. Wooyoung counts the cash and tucks it safely in his pocket and then looks at you with the most shit-eating smirk you’ve ever seen on a human. 

“Got you.”

“Jung Wooyoung!” 

While he laughs loud and proud, you snatch the snacks from the table and make a dash for the door, Wooyoung right on your heel as he yells at you to come back. Your laughs and screams echo in the corridor and you can make out the rest of the boys following the two of you, just to witness the scene. You hop down the stairs with caution though you are screaming all the way, and that’s where Wooyoung manages to successfully tackle you and you barely avoid an accident, making it down safely with his arms around your waist and your legs swinging in the air.

“Let. Me. Down!” You laugh loudly and he swings you in circles until you feel dizzy, though you can’t stop laughing.

“That’s what you get for asking for some space!” Wooyoung says as he sets you down. “Tell me if you still want some space and I’ll gladly leave you alone.”

“I can’t believe you guys bet on this!” You retort, clutching your sides that are currently hurting from laughing too much. “What was the deal?”

“Wooyoung was sure he was going to break you within 3 days,” Jongho explains. “We were sure you could manage 5, but clearly we were wrong.”

You pout. “I thought you guys were cross with me. For real.”

“Come on, weren’t we acting normal?” Yunho asks. “We wanted to win the bet. I thought we were the same.”

“No, but it didn’t feel the same without Wooyoung, I guess…” you scratch the back of your neck. 

“You love me. I know,” Wooyoung spreads his arms to bring you into a hug but you ignore him, taking refuge behind Seonghwa who claims that he told Wooyoung to tone it down a little. 

“My turn to be angry with you,” you promise Wooyoung. “Let’s see how long you last.”

“No time for that,” he shakes his head. “The basketball practice games start next week and we’re competing against our rival team in two months’ time. We need to cheer for them.”

That piques your interest. You learn that the regional competition is taking place soon and the KQ Stallions are aiming for the first spot. Unsurprisingly, your school’s team is very good and almost always makes it to the top 3, though they haven’t earned the 1st position just yet. 

Mingi and Wooyoung ask you to join them in cheering for their team and you find that it is not something casual– they are very serious about cheerleading. They have good reasons to be, for San and Jongho are playing in the team this year. Yunho is the substitute which means that he has to be on standby. 

The princesses of the group choreograph your cheers to perfection. It is a sport in itself, but you quite enjoy it, especially since the cheerleading group has grown much bigger by the day with more students joining you, and Mingi and Wooyoung are already making plans on how to up their cheerleading strategies when the KQ Stallions advance to the finals.

When, and not if, and you love that confidence. 

For the next few weeks, you settle into a routine with the boys– if it can be called that. Every morning, a few of them catch you by the gates and you make your way to class together. There are no longer any bets or formality between you and the boys. Slowly but surely, they have opened your heart to them and once again, you find yourself with friends that might just last for life.

Although, you think of those words with caution. Your childhood friends didn’t last. You sometimes wonder if it was a shame to leave things on a bitter note with your friends from your previous school. The timing of how you had to move because of your parents with what happened at school was an unlucky coincidence. But thanks to Wooyoung especially, you are once again willing to try the idea of friendship. 

Your hideout now has a beaded curtain that you had hung with the help of Hongjoong– something from your previous home that you no longer needed. Hongjoong and Yeosang sometimes add some shiny ornaments that they bring from home on the strings of the curtain and the sunlight reflects beautifully on them, creating a kaleidoscopic effect at times. 

You and Mingi rather enjoy sitting under the curtains with your comic books while Hongjoong naps with his head on Mingi’s lap since Mingi hogs the lone pillow. Seonghwa moderates the basketball boys who practise with balls of different sizes in the hideout. They manage to practise passing and dribbling in this small space. Yeosang becomes the damage control or the human shield, making sure the ball doesn’t somehow manage to hit Hongjoong square in the face. Something tells you it has happened quite a few times and there is a reason Yeosang so willingly guards the slumbering beast.

Sometimes, after school if you are all free and there is no practice, you make a trip to the convenience store and the chefs, Wooyoung and Seonghwa, make a variety of ramens with whatever ingredients they can find. You join the tables outside to make a big dinner table and spread the goods on it. Ramen after school tastes better for some reason. The convenience store part-timer is an old lady who adores Wooyoung so she lets you be and you think she enjoys watching you guys having fun, though every now and then she warns you to keep it down. 

The boys may be all fun and games but they take their studies very seriously, all of them. Most of the time, they study on their own when they go home but sometimes, you all gather at someone’s house to prepare for exams and you find that there is a reason the boys are the way they are. They all grew up with loving parents who think of their child’s friends as their own. 

One time, you muster the courage and invite the boys to your place to study. It is not that part which requires your courage, but admitting to your parents that you have made friends.

Your mother regards you with worry. “Are you sure? We don’t want you depressed again, unable to focus after what happened last time.”

Last time. When one of your old friends created a rift in your group and made you all break up, all because of her insecurities because she felt ‘left out’. You later realised that she just wanted you out because she did not like how you managed to be the ‘centre of attention’ everywhere. 

Was it your fault that you made an effort to involve everyone? Did that make you an attention-seeker? Was this what you deserved after making sure your odd group of five friends lasted forever? You never realised how much venom that friend had in her heart. After she made up a story about you spilling your friends’ secrets to another group in your class and none of your friends believed you, you distanced yourself. If that was the trust they had in you, then you were fine by yourself.

However, the sudden change took a toll on you. Your grades fell considerably and with your father’s sudden job relocation, you came to terms with the fact that this is how your childhood ends.

But when you nod to your mother with hopeful eyes, she breaks out into a smile and tells you that she hopes that your friends this time are nice. You promise that they are. When she learns that it’s a group of eight boys, she bursts into laughter and shakes her head. 

“They better be treating you like a princess.”

“Don’t worry, mom. They treat me like a queen.”

Your mother sees that. The boys arrive dressed more neatly than usual, appearing well-kempt. Wooyoung, ever the charmer, has a bouquet of flowers for your mother. The rest of the boys have pitched in to buy some fruits. Your mother fusses over them and learns their names and thanks them. She cooks up a feast while you study in the living room, the study-group trio leading everyone. 

You find that it saves time to study with them– each one of them is good at one thing or the other. Jongho has a knack for predicting the content of the exams, and he swears that he isn’t a spy. He just assesses patterns, he claims. Yeosang and Hongjoong are good at maths. Seonghwa is good at making notes. Yunho is an all-rounder but San excels in English. You excel in Korean and History, while Wooyoung and Mingi are good at the science subjects. Together, you help each other with ease and the group study sessions pass in a breeze.

Your first exams go well. You manage to maintain the good grades from your previous school, and notice how you score better in subjects you were formerly weak in. That is one box checked from your mental list.

The other box is the first basketball game, and you’re more worried about it than you thought you would be. Perhaps, it is because you are so roped in with the boys now that it starts to feel like your team and your victory or defeat. You start to feel like a coach yourself, fretting over the basketball trio just like the rest, showering them in treats and cool, refreshing drinks. Anything to make sure that they are in top condition.

However, the trio seems to take advantage of your kindness. 

One day, you find yourself on the school field, a lone warrior standing with no one to defend herself. Your heart is thumping at an erratic pace. Sweat pools from every crevice and you want to move but you remain frozen in your spot for the fear of your life. Every instinct tells you to move but you cannot. You are not allowed to.

There is a beer glass perched on the top of your head, upside down. The basketball trio is taking turns practising their aim with an actual basketball. Not one of the soft balls or bouncy balls back in the hideout, no. They want to practise with the real thing, and because you lost in rock, paper, scissors, you have to be the sacrificial lamb for the day. 

They might as well tie you to the tree with an apple on top of your head and practise their shooting skills.

“San– stop!” You can’t help but scream as the ball flies closer and you shut your eyes. Each time they manage to hit the beer glass successfully, you sigh in relief and almost collapse to your knees. The trio celebrates while the others either laugh, enjoying this a bit too much, or move around anxiously because fear someone might actually hit you square in the face.

“Can’t I turn around?” You plead your case again and turn to Seonghwa who seems to be the only one actually worried. The rest are too busy betting on who will break your nose today. The basketball trio keeps telling you to have some trust in their skills but they’re not the ones standing with the beer glass on top of their head.

“Brain damage,” Wooyoung counters, “is worse than a broken nose.”

“Well then, why don’t you stand in my place, huh?” You offer. The boys laugh harder when you tap your temple aggressively. “Since it’s stuffed with hay up here.”

“I’m not the one who lost the game, sweetheart,” he smirks devilishly. “Come on. 3 shots left. You can make out of this alive. Have some trust in them. They’ve got killer aims.”

“Killer aim…” you repeat. “Killing which target?”

“We’re not that bad, and you know it,” Yunho says as he orders you to stand straight and not move. Apparently, moving out of reflex might make them lose their aim. You believe that Yunho probably has the least chances of missing his target since he’s so tall that he can probably see the back of your head as well. 

You accept your fate and shut your eyes, willing yourself to not pee in your pants. Just like that, Yunho plays his last shot and successfully hits the beer glass which falls with a dramatic clack. As the boys cheer, you almost sink to your knees. Yunho pats you in encouragement but you scowl at him, promising revenge.

“Just so you know, I’m the best shot,” Jongho says as he takes his position in front of you a good 6 feet away. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s San you should be scared of– he sometimes tends to let his emotions control his aim.”

“But I’m feeling good today,” San counters. “I haven’t missed a shot. You missed one.”

“She moved,” Jongho reminds him. 

“This cocky attitude of yours is going to get to you one day,” You promise Jongho.

“Let’s hope that day is not today,” Jongho says and chucks the ball in your direction without warning.

You seem to have jinxed yourself. This time, you hardly have any time to shut your eyes before you feel the ball collide with your face. 

There is a moment of silence. A blissful moment of no sensations before you feel something wet on your lips and you curl inwards, clutching your nose. Hot, burning pain is all you feel for a good few moments, apart from the ringing in your ears.

“Oh, my god… are you okay?” Jongho is also the first one to approach you. The rest are too busy gasping and clutching their heads in disbelief.

“What do you think–”

“Choi Jongho!”

It is not one of the boy's voices you hear. It is Yuna, your senior and your saviour, who calls his name like it’s her last rite.

“I can explain–” Jongho barely has time to say before he’s running for his life with Yuna and the rest of her friends out for him, each holding one of their shoes in their hands, ready to deliver a beating. You chuckle at the scene but groan in pain. 

It is Yunho who gently moves your hands away from your nose to inspect the injury. He sighs in relief and that is how you know your nose is not broken. With a handkerchief, he pinches your nose to stop the bleeding. You try to move out of his grasp because of the pain but he holds you close and smiles apologetically.

“I’ve got you. Just stay still.”

This close, you can make out the flecks of brown in his eyes. You wriggle a bit but feel someone hold you in place from behind.

“That’s what you’ve been telling her for the last half an hour.”

It is Seonghwa. He tucks your hair away, not minding how sweaty your forehead is. You pass a weak smile and when Yunho pulls away, Seonghwa cleans the blood off your upper lips with his sleeve. 

In that moment, you forget that these boys are the same people who led you to the altar that got you the bleeding nose in the first place. Wooyoung arrives to your rescue next with a bottle of water and Yeosang has ice in another thermos that he always carries with him. 

Now you know why.

“You guys,” you chuckle in disbelief, especially when you spot Jongho still running for his life and the seniors livid. “You’re all insufferable.”

They share grins and help you get up. Thankfully, your nose doesn’t feel as bad as before, especially with the ice but Yeosang still suggests a trip to the nurse's office. You move to the water stands, wanting to wash your face and the boys follow you closely, promising to teach Jongho a lesson.

When you are done washing your face, Jongho arrives with an apologetic look and his hair sticking out in different directions, probably from whatever Yuna and Hyorin did to him (nothing much, you’re sure). He is out of breath, his cheeks flushed from running so much but he still can’t contain his smile.

“Come on, best shot,” you tease. “Say it.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, giggling like a 5 year old who just learnt a bad joke.

“Do better,” you say dismissively, washing your arms.

“I’m genuinely sorry,” he tries again and you regard him. He purses his lips and looks down. “It’s just… your nose is swollen and it looks funny–”

That is it. The last straw. You turn the tap full and block it with your hand before anyone can react. Jongho gets sprayed with a sharp stream of water and when you stop, he looks at you in disbelief with water dripping from his hair and face.

“Again!” Wooyoung announces and the boys scramble to grab Jongho and keep him in place and this time, Hongjoong and Seonghwa help you with the taps. While Jongho screams in defiance, your laughter fills the air–

Until Seonghwa’s spray hits your back.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Get him!” Hongjoong says the battle call.

The seniors watch from a distance as the 9 of you spray each other with water. Jongho has definitely gotten the worst of it, drenched from head to toes. Whenever someone sprays you with water, the seniors yell their name in warning. If you weren’t wearing black gymwear, the seniors would have buried the boys alive by now.

All pain is forgotten as you splash each other with water. Someone tackles you in a hug and steers you in the direction of the jet stream one of the boys produces from the tap. Someone shields you with their body in a chivalrous manner. All that matters is that you are laughing like there is no care in the world. 

The day of the basketball game against the rival team arrives. The victory of this match will lead to the KQ Stallions’ qualification to the regionals.

The school is in a different state today– the floors are polished, the teachers are enthusiastic and the students are feeling energised. The colours of the KQ Stallions are everywhere. By the time school comes to an end, almost everyone has something red on them– paint on their faces, polish on their nails, ribbon in their hair or a red flag with black stripes in their hand. 

Hongjoong has taken it upon himself to make sure the cheerleaders match. You wait for your turn and when you stand in front of him, the both of you grin widely. You catch some dried paint on his hair from the sunlight that pours on him through the window of the classroom and you brush it off while he dips his brush in the paint.

“Excited?” He asks, even though he knows the answer.

“I’m positive I’ll crash from adrenaline overload before the game even starts,” you tell him. He nods, pointedly looking at the way you’re almost bouncing on your legs. 

“Stay still,” he instructs and you mutter a ‘yessir’. He gently grabs you by the chin and tilts your face to the left to paint a red stripe across your cheek. He tilts it to the right and does the same, focused. 

Then he switches his brush for the black paint and you notice how his hand is still cradling your chin. You also notice how close you are– when he paints the black stripes, you think that you can feel his breath caress your cheeks. 

And if that’s not enough, he blows on the paint. Just for you. He didn’t do it for anyone else, you notice. He also tucks the strands of your hair back so they don’t catch in the wet paint.

You stand doe-eyed and for the first time, your heart flutters. You don’t know if he notices, but when he’s done, he pats your shoulder and asks you to find Seonghwa, who he says must be hiding somewhere, shirking his duties. He was supposed to be helping him.

You’re still making sense of this weird feeling in your chest when you take a turn in the corridor and you almost crash into someone. That someone is none other than Seonghwa who reflexively grabs your wrists and steadies you.

“Oh, it’s you,” he says and leans closer to inspect the paint on your cheeks. This close, you can see the twinkle in his eyes and the flutter in your heart intensifies. You subconsciously pull away from him.

“Hongjoong did a good job,” he grins. “Did he ask you to find me?”

“Uh, yeah,” you manage to say, mouth suddenly dry. “He thinks you’re hiding.”

“He’s not wrong,” Seonghwa laughs. “Went to stretch my back. You want one?” 

He offers you candies and you take the strawberry one. He takes the orange. You unwrap it and pop it in your mouth, focusing on the taste. You listen to him talk about something but you’re too busy processing what just happened, and when Yeosang joins you, you’re glad for the distraction.

Once it’s time, you all head to the basketball court. You don’t get to meet the basketball trio up close as they are being lectured by their coach, but you catch Jongho’s attention and yell ‘break a nose!’ to which he shakes his head in amusement. San and Yunho glance over in your direction and you all send finger hearts to the trio.

You find your spot in the middle of Wooyoung and Yeosang, and Mingi breaks down the moves once again to everyone present before taking his spot in front of you. He stands at the lowest row of the bleachers, the three of you on the upper row, and then the rest behind you, increasing in numbers as the rows ascend. 

The basketball trio look incredibly handsome in their black tank and shorts, a red stallion embroidered on the front with their names and number on the back. They stand in front of the rival team gritting their teeth in determination and you watch with wonder how their demeanour changes. Yunho has a private moment with Jongho and San where it looks like he is giving some last instructions, and then he breaks into a smile and wishes them luck, sharing a group hug. It warms your heart infinitely and as soon as the players take position, Mingi raises his hand and you clutch the glittery black and red poms tightly and wait.

The game begins. As per Mingi’s cues, you cheer with your soul and your heart, and pause to inspect the game when he signals you to stop. Each time the KQ stallions score, you have to physically stop yourself from simply jumping up and down out of joy and stick to the choreography. However, Seonghwa and Hongjoong rub your shoulders as they share your excitement. Wooyoung and Yeosang share your enthusiasm. Mingi smiles brightly and gains strength when he looks back at his friends.

The game grows tense. The first quarter ends with KQ in the lead. All of you cheer for your team while the rivals gather around to revise their strategies. Your team toasts over water bottles and you can tell that they’re excited to be leading. The coach tells them to keep their heads in the game.

The second quarter is twice as intense. The rival team seems to have taken an aggressive stance and they make no mistakes in scoring or defending their basket. The KQ Stallions try to keep up and they do a pretty good job. The cheerleaders make sure that their excitement doesn’t die down and that your team gains some energy from your cheers. However, this time the KQ Stallions trail by a few points. 

All is good. They just need to do better in the third quarter. 

The third quarter is packed with nervous energy. While the first few minutes are uneventful, one of the defenders from the rival team tackles the freshman player in your team, resulting in a foul. The defender looks smug even after the warning and Yeosang tells you why.

The freshman in your team is a key scorer. If he is not able to play in full health, the team gets affected. Yunho might end up substituting in that case but it would definitely affect the morale of the team.

You’re filled with rage after hearing that, but it seems like you are not the only one. The seniors– specifically your group of friends– are unfiltered with their curses. The cheers have died down and you are all instead focusing on the game, tracking each and every move.

You don’t miss how they’re trying to take Jongho out. He is a versatile player who can defend well and shoot better (if you forget about the broken nose incident). Jongho seems to have an idea of their strategy and he focuses more on protecting himself than the ball.

The third quarter ends with a score of 56-57 with the rival team in the lead. Tension peaks and the air feels electric. Before the fourth quarter begins, both the teams take timeouts to adjust their strategies. Yunho ends up substituting for the freshman after all, who seems to have a sore ankle. It’s not good for the team for him to keep playing. 

The fourth quarter begins with an ominous ring of the whistle. After a few minutes of dribbling, passing and failed shots, your trio of friends exchange signals and try to coordinate another shot. They work neatly, a bit sneakily but in full synchronisation. It’s almost like they are tuned to each other’s thoughts. 

The way San throws the basketball into the hoop is nothing short of incredible and KQ finally leads by 3 points. The room bursts into a chorus of cheers and you mechanically perform the practised moves. 

While the rest celebrate the lead, you are more focused on how the rival team reacts to this turn of events. They have a strong defence and with Yunho managing to find a weakness and helping coordinate a shot, you wonder if the rivals will end up making more dirty moves. You definitely smell scheming with the way they get aggressive in their actions.

As if Wooyoung has heard your thoughts, he comments, “They’re sneaky bastards but they don’t know what’s coming for them.”

The tension grows with each passing minute. With just three minutes left and a difference of 2 points, the cheerleaders have stopped cheering altogether and are watching the game with sharp eyes, following the basketball. The hall echoes with joyous shouts and groans and you don’t know when it happened, but the three of you are almost clutching at each other at the last minute.

“Oh, they’re doing it,” Yeosang notices and you look at him in confusion. “Follow Yunho. You’ll see.”

You do exactly that. Yunho passes the ball to San and San dodges the players with expertise. He is leading them to your own basket and you wonder if he’s doing the right thing, but then you notice two things–

Jongho and Yunho are straying away from the rest towards the rival’s basket which is mostly defenceless right now. With only seconds left, it looks like the rival players are leaving their posts and already preparing for a celebration.

San, however, jumps and throws the ball in Yunho’s direction. He is pulled down by a player but the ball manages to reach Yunho and panic ensues. Yunho is surrounded before he can make a goal and he throws the ball to Jongho who switches to offence and takes a risk, making a long shot at the hoop.

It’s like time slows down as everyone sucks in their breaths, anticipating whether the ball will make it into the hoop or not. Your heart sinks dangerously as the ball hits the edge and Yeosang shuts his eyes close. Wooyoung is shaking your arm in a nervous fit.

Silence ensues.

The ball hits the floor. The score changes. The timer rings.

The KQ Stallions have won the game. Jongho has managed to score. 

“Oh my god,” you breathe and Yeosang finally looks at the scoreboard. “Oh my god!”

Cheerleading is forgotten and the whole team jumps up and down and you’re swallowed in group hugs. You all are screaming out of ecstasy and you feel like you could cry out of sheer joy. You can hardly contain yourselves as you wait for the KQ Stallions to stop their own celebration and finish the formalities. As soon as they’re done shaking hands with the rival teams who look thoroughly annoyed, your friends look in your direction and they run.

You all rush towards the stairs that lead down to the court and you follow Wooyoung and Yeosang who lead you with their hands in yours, making sure you’re not left behind. You can’t breathe but you’re the happiest. Mingi crushes Yunho in a hug before sharing him with the rest of you. San brings the three of you in a hug and then Jongho joins and you all take turns ruffling his hair and smothering him in affection, once again cracking jokes about how he’s a good shot but managed to break your nose anyway.

The nine of you form a circle and as you hop around, it feels like it’s a little bubble. You have created your own world, your own space, and here, it’s just happiness and excitement. Nothing can hurt you. No one can take you down. The boys squeeze in some silly dance moves and you suddenly think of the butterflies painted in your hideout room. 

There used to be eight of them but now there’s another painted on the roof. You don’t know when Hongjoong painted that, but now you know what he intended.

It feels like you’re a butterfly just like them– free and happy. 

Junior year passes by in a breeze. 

While the KQ Stallions didn't win the regionals, their achievement of making it to the regionals is an accomplishment in itself. The boys still play basketball with as much enthusiasm, and the rest of you still cheer as if your lives depend on it. 

With the passage of time, you have created a unique bond with each friend. Your dynamics have shifted with everyone but it’s still the same as the first day. Sometimes, you wonder if things between them changed– you feel like an impostor. However, they assure you that your presence has changed nothing, yet, changed everything in a good way.

You don’t know how you feel about that, but you suppose it’s nice to know how they feel about you. 

Yuna had somehow learned about your hideout room and the group of four started to treat the room as their own. At first, Wooyoung and Hongjoong had protested but they had been bribed with an offer to try Yuna’s extensive collection of flavoured cigarettes. They had hesitated at first but eventually agreed to try, ignoring Seonghwa’s warnings about the dangers of smoking. You had watched with curiosity as they tried a strawberry and peach flavoured smoke and then clutched at your stomach that hurt from laughing too much when they incessantly coughed and almost threw up. 

Nevertheless, they ‘allow’ Yuna and her gang to share the room (as if they had a choice in the first place). Perhaps, because it’s their senior year and they’ll miss them next year. The girls take care of you– Yuna teaches you a few things about nonchalance and dominance (you need that as the lone girl in the group of eight boys), and Hyorin teaches you all the feminine stuff. 

At first, the boys cringe and only Seonghwa joins Hyorin as they style your hair or do makeup on you (where Jongho joins too– apparently, he has a knack for makeup) but then one day, San comes prepared. He shows Hyorin something new that he learned from his sister– an eyeliner hack that he tries on you. 

Impressed, Yuna and Hyorin take turns having him apply their eyeliner. Seonghwa takes the seat next and the room bursts into appreciative laughter as San applies eyeliner on Seonghwa too. Wooyoung finally gives in and because the eyeliner looks so good on him, the girls fawn over him and apply some eyeshadow as well. He complains for a few moments but when he takes a look in the mirror, he caves in and can’t put the mirror down. 

Thus, you juniors warm up to the presence of the seniors in your hideout, which isn’t a common occasion but welcomed now. You have snack parties and the boys who have a knack for cooking share tips and sometimes collectively bake treats for you. It is a stark difference from the first time you found yourself in this room, being bribed by treats. It feels like home now. 

During the holidays, the whole lot of you make trips to the amusement park and the aquarium. One time, you go to watch a horror movie at the cinema where you learn that only Yunho and Jongho seem to possess the stamina to sit through a horror movie. You keep creating wonderful memories with your friends. The seniors don’t always join you, occupied with preparing for college but it’s fun either way. 

At school, your homeroom teacher Miss Ji grows fond of your group. It looks like the boys are behaving this time so they’ll be in the same class in senior year too. You pray with your whole heart that senior year will be just like this. Nabi, however, stays salty with you. She doesn’t bother you very much anymore, but it’s clear that she still has a strong dislike for you. 

You don’t care. The boys protect you fiercely, but even if they didn’t, you can stand on your own now. You have learned your lesson from your previous school. You know how to stand up for yourself. 

You have to learn to stand up for yourself because the boys take any and every chance to prank someone and then point fingers at another. It is a joke, of course, but it has strengthened your debating skills and survival skills. It turns into a warzone pretty quickly with them, but in the end, it’s all fun and games. 

It’s all fun and games. From racing each other to the cafeteria or earning punishment for the whole group during gym where the teacher makes all of you run extra laps. Cooling off under the shade and having water splashed on you which turns into a water fight. A protective throw of someone’s jacket onto you to cover yourself as the boys flush because they forgot that you are a girl. You flush deeper because you forgot that you are a girl too. 

Then there are the trips to the convenience store during school as the nine of you sneak out, jumping over the walls. The twin towers of the group act as stepping stones for you to help you make it to the other side of the wall. Mingi usually does the throwing and Yunho catches you in his arms. His ears turn red and your cheeks flush without fail every time you make a run to the store. You both look at each other and laugh shyly. 

Towards the end of the junior year, the nine of you go to the riverside one evening to have a dinner of ramen and take a break. Finals are approaching and the stress is palpable, so you sometimes make little trips like these to calm your nerves. The seniors couldn’t join you which is a shame but you know you’ll have fun either way.

After a hearty meal of ramen and kimbap, Hongjoong takes out a ukulele and Mingi, who sits next to you, turns a pot upside down and grabs some sticks from the trees, ready to play his makeshift drum. The boys start to sing their favourite songs and you join them, clapping in harmony. It’s a lovely moment and you can’t help but feel giddy. Yeosang and San couple dance in the middle and Wooyoung sings for them. 

When you’re packing your belongings and preparing to go back, you catch Wooyoung who is zipping his bag. 

“I didn’t realise you could sing so well,” you start and he smiles, pleased with himself.

“Why, thank you,” he grins.

“No, I mean it,” you say and he pauses to look at you. His voice is still echoing in your head, lulling you into a calm headspace. “You have the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it’s the truth.”

Wooyoung raises his brows. “You’ve told me to shut up so many times that I can’t believe what you’re saying.”

You laugh. “I mean your singing voice. Not yapping voice–”

He is quick to bring you in a chokehold and you tap on his arm to indicate that you surrender. He shifts his arm to bring you close and stares at you.

“You mean it?” He asks. 

You look at him. His eyes are wide and eager with anticipation. 

“I mean it. I need you to sing more and yap less.”

“Oh, you love it when I yap,” he says. You don’t deny it. 

He kisses your temple. While it’s something that he does everyday, this time, he lingers and kisses your cheek too. You feel the onset of butterflies in your stomach and you can’t believe it. 

Before you can process this moment, San joins you and welcomes you with a kiss to your cheek too. You almost groan but the way he looks at you with so much fondness melts your heart and you realise he isn’t teasing you. He’s just… being himself. 

“You alright?” He asks. 

“I’m fine. I told him he has a nice voice. Make sure it doesn’t get to his head,” you say and wring out of their grip, leaving them snickering. You take refuge behind Yeosang who, ever your protective friend, tucks you further behind him. It reminds you of the time you used to call Wooyoung the assailant. Jongho pokes you in the side and makes you fold over, the three of you running in circles to get each other. 

Your laughter carries throughout the semester. Junior year comes to a beautiful conclusion and you part ways with the boys for the holidays. You share a teary-eyed farewell with the seniors and promise to stay in contact and meet up often. They assure you that they won’t leave you alone and that every now and then, you can expect them at the hideout. It sounds like a promise to you and a threat to the boys– the seniors warn them. Take care of our little sister.

Take care they do. While you don’t meet up for the first half of the holidays, all of you travelling around to meet your families, you do occasional meetups at cafes and arcades with anyone who is able to join. The group chat remains alive and it almost feels like you’ve never parted.

Senior year arrives. It is the first day of school, a year apart. Cherry blossoms fill the streets again, blooming in all their pastel pink glory, contrasting beautifully with the morning blue sky. The clouds look nothing short of cotton today, fluffy and full.

Just like last year, children are on their way to school and playing games on the streets again. They focus on stepping or avoiding the petals, challenging each other playfully. The old folk sit to bask in the scene. The students look nervous but the blossom shower seems to help soothe their souls.

And then there is your group of seniors. You’re all waiting at the designated intersection for Mingi and Yunho to arrive. While you wait, you’re all chatting among yourselves and catching up. San recounts a trip to his hometown to visit his grandparents. Wooyoung has far too many stories to share. Yeosang can apparently play the violin now and he is being assigned as the musician in your hideout now. Hongjoong and Seonghwa argue about their plans for college. 

Jongho, who has dyed his hair red over the holidays, is wondering how he’ll get past the guard and the teachers. You tease him about how he’s definitely inspired by a certain senior he had a crush on. He no longer reacts when you mention it or tease him about his little crush over Yuna. It seems like he has gotten over it, or realised that it was more admiration than crush.

The twin towers arrive, waving enthusiastically from the distance. You all pretend to be mad since you waited a good 15 minutes for them, but when Mingi pulls the zipper of his bag to reveal snacks, you all decide to forgive and forget. The duo is welcomed warmly and you all start to walk towards the school.

“Oh, look at that,” Seonghwa points at a boy and a girl trying to catch the petals from the trees. They seem to be juniors. “They must have heard the saying about how catching a falling petal grants your wish or brings you luck.”

“Or makes you find your true love,” you say spontaneously and Seonghwa glances at you with a smile. You suddenly feel shy. “I think that’s the most common belief associated with catching falling petals.”

“Well, it’s not hard to catch them,” Seonghwa attempts to catch a petal but misses. “Perhaps, that is why the saying exists. So we believe that finding your true love isn’t a very hard thing.”

“So that we do not lose hope and believe in our luck,” you add and he agrees. “Is it supposed to be catching a petal at the same time as the other…?”

Seonghwa follows your gaze. The couple seems to believe that the petals have to be caught at the same time. 

“Now that is hard,” Seonghwa laughs.

“What’s hard?” Wooyoung asks, falling in step with you both.

“Do you think we all can catch petals at the same time?” Seonghwa wonders.

“You bet we can. Guys!” Wooyoung claps to get everyone’s attention and you groan, laughing to yourself. “We have a challenge.”

“What’s the prize?” 

“Shut up and listen,” Wooyoung scolds Mingi and he leans against Yunho for comfort, laughing anyway. “We’re all going to try to catch petals at the same time.”

“Why would we do that…” Yeosang begins but when Wooyoung folds his arm, he retracts his question. 

“Is this about the true love saying?” San wraps his arm around Yeosang and you all slow down to a halt. “I don’t really believe in that, but it’s romantic.”

“If the nine of us catch petals at the same time, that would make it more believable,” Yunho comments. “Because what are the chances?”

“It would be nothing short of a miracle,” Hongjoong sighs. “And it is also what gets us late on the first day of school.”

“Three attempts,” Wooyoung suggests and Jongho nods, being the first to accept the challenge.

You think it’s a bit foolish and you’ll definitely be late for school, but Wooyoung looks so happy to just finally have all of you together and his grin is unmatched. You get him. You’re feeling happy and content too. You meet eyes with all the boys, and it looks like they share the sentiments.

So you all turn away from each other, waiting for Wooyoung’s cue. All of you fix your eyes on that one petal that seems to be falling the right way, that seems to be calling to you. When Wooyoung shouts ‘now!’, you all jump and swing your hand in the air and clutch your fist before you turn back towards each other, light on your feet and almost reminiscent of butterflies in your movement.

It seems nothing short of magical when you all open your fists to find that everyone managed to catch a petal in the first attempt. All nine of you. 

Some of you stand in disbelief while the rest absolutely lose their minds. You’re frozen in place, staring at the petal in your hand in awe. When you look up, you find all the boys clutching at their petals like it’s a token of luck. It might as well be.

Or maybe, it’s a symbol of love, marking new beginnings.

taglist pt 1:

@sungbeam @waywardstaytiny @lluvia1415 @woohwababes @fruithoughts @fancypeacepersona @propinquitypsithurism @kyomiingi @ateezswonderland @janetsarttrove @thenopekid @justconniez @daniela-f-uwu @hwasbestlover @missbangtangirl @beabatiny @slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @alliethequeen @lavishloving @haowonbins @franbowesax @klllerwaifu @selfishw4ltz @paramedicnerd004 @atzlordz @meowmeeps @intowxnderland @faeriehwa @staytiny-yaps @ishz @dumplingsyum @bunnychui @kandy108 @softsanglix @yongility @sweetinsaniiity @bihwabi @pshwifey @emotionallyanaemic @affy1106 @parkthothwa8 @my-loves-my-life @sunnysidesins @jyoon-ahgatiny @lover-ofallthingspretty @dea-nimus @cksanpurpleluv @atzloverr @bamdoe

[from-izzy]

MY ALL | ATEEZ CHOI SAN

“Thank you for giving it your all.”

pairing » ateez choi san x fem!reader

trope/au » friends to lovers, school au, non-idol au

genre » fluffy fluffy fluff fluff, san being shy, but not so shy, san is just in love with you hehe, wooyoung being a whole mood and a half tbh

word count; estimated reading time » 1949; ~7 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » pet names

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist

happiest birthday to my child @mars101 !! i can't believe you're all grown up now 😭 here's my little gift to you that is loosely based on your irl events (hehe) 🤭 a bit messy and i wish i planned my time better 😔 but i hope this makes you smile a bit 🥹 thank you to @jaehunnyy for beta reading!! 💗

Being best friends with Wooyoung meant that you live a very interesting life. His chaoticness and his willingness to always have you as his partner in crime mean that you’re always on the verge of getting detention. His chattiness and loud volume in class mean that you’re not safe from detention even during class. You come to school each day with a raised eyebrow whenever Wooyoung is in view, but recently your crossed arms and deadpanned face have changed to widened eyes and flaming hot cheeks.

“You’re what?!” The hallway booms with his voice, attracting attention from nearby students. The slap on his shoulder had him apologising. “You’re going on a date?! With San?!”

“Stop repeating what I said!” You warned through gritted teeth. “Oh my God, Wooyoung, I can’t believe this is happening.”

Yes, Choi San. The friend that Wooyoung introduced some time ago. It’s safe to say, with the number of times your name has come up in conversations between him and San, that the latter has his cheeks flaming in the same way that you have yours like now. Wooyoung has been pushing the two of you to go on more adventures together, but has always been met with nervous chuckles and stolen glances. At the very least, if he’s going to be a third wheel, he wants to be a proper third wheel. 

“We’re going before his volleyball game toda-“

“You’re going today?!” Wooyoung cheers. “Oh my God, my days of listening to his lovesick rants are over! We cheer for a better tomorrow!”

“Jung Wooyoung, keep it down!” The disciplinary teacher warns him for the first time today.

You have got to give a massive thank you to whoever made half-days at school a thing. If it wasn’t for them, you wouldn’t be sitting in the seat of Choi San’s car, driving to the mall to get lunch before his big game. As expected, San is a gentleman: opening the door for you, making sure your seat is comfortable, asking what song you want to blast, making sure the aircon is at the right temperature, but most of all, he’s holding your hand. He says it’s for safety measures in case he breaks unexpectedly, but we all know with his little adorable stutter and the tapping on his wheel, that it’s something else.

“I said, I believe you!” Your laugh echoes through the space of his car.

San groans next to you, his heart rapidly beating at the sound of your happiness. “Sure, you do…”

He worries that his palms are going to get too sweaty for your liking. Because then, you would have to let go, and it would just be so embarrassing for him to do so. He doesn’t want to let your hand go. He’s annoyed at the few seconds that he had to have both hands on the wheel; otherwise, he’s too shaky for safety. He doesn’t even want you out of his sight, despite how he hasn’t been able to look at your beautiful eyes ever since he greeted you when picking you up. He’s tried, so let’s give him some credit. But with such a beautiful girl next to him, even daring to look towards you would distract his focus for the rest of the drive. So (un)fortunately, he only has your hand for now.

“What did you want to get for lunch? Any cravings?”

“No,” you answer immediately. “As long as I’m with you, nothing else matters.”

San could swear the world stopped turning for a second. Your words haven’t fully registered in his head, but he almost swerves his car to the side of the road when he does. You leisurely rest against the seat, catching the way San’s lips try to form coherent words, but failing exasperatedly with a huge sigh after. His cheekbones blush a deeper pink while you cover his hand that’s over yours with your other one. The light swipes against his knuckles made him forget momentarily how to breathe, and he swore you could feel his heartbeat from his hand.

Throughout the ride, he made it his mission to hear your laughs because of his jokes or the things he said. But in the end, you're chuckling, and it's because of him.

You and San didn't have a lot of time before needing to head back to school in preparation for his game. Yet, you both swore to make every second count; and every gesture at least.

As much as San wants to hold your hand, he respects your space and wants to ask for permission first. However, the current situation is just like the one in the car: he's speechless. Even the fact that you're walking beside him feels like a dream, and he's satisfied with everything as it is. That is, until his lips forms a mind of its own, and takes control of the situation for him.

“Oh! We should go eat ther-”

“Can I hold your hand?” At the sudden question, you couldn't help but stop at your place. San, gazing at the way your eyes are widened slightly, starts to scratch the back of his neck. “W-What were you saying?” A forceful laugh from the embarrassed man, “Oh, right! Let's go ther-”

His body almost jolts at the touch of your warm palm kissing his. San would've melted to the marbled floor if it wasn't for you dragging him to the restaurant, briefly looking back to check his reaction. From the corner of his eye, he sees the way you playfully shake your head as you guide the way to the restaurant. You did all the talking while the boy beside you intertwined your fingers together, refusing to let go even at the table and looking through the menu.

“You only need one hand anyway,” he reasons. “Just…put it against the table and flip through the pages…” 

He's not wrong about that. “Cute,” you compliment him under your breath. 

Your hand stays enveloped within his, and your thumb soothingly swipes over the side of the index. The small talk indulges him into a state of calmness, taking in your features one by one as you filll the space with your cheerful tone and wide smile. The bright aura that you radiate puts San in a sure state: that he will give his all for you to be his.

With both your hunger satisfied, a carpool karaoke commences as San drives you both back to school for his volleyball game. It’s only when you get to the car that your hand finally separates from San’s, and you begin to realise how natural it feels to be around him. Singing songs, shouting the lyrics, swaying your bodies to the rhythm all felt so natural and easy when you’re near him. The initial nervousness that San had at the start of the day now seems unfamiliar, his heart rapidly beating against his chest for a similar yet sure feeling blossoming further.

You walk into the indoor gymnasium hand-in-hand, greeted by Wooyoung’s widely open jaw reaching the floor. He took the attention of nearby people with his squealing and finger, directing you and San to the entrance of the hallway. The pair of eyes had you hiding behind his frame, cursing your best friend mentally, even though he’s celebrating your win. 

“Don’t hide,” San tries to ease you. “I want to proudly show you off.”

His shirt tightens around his chest as you clump its back material inside your palm. You're flustered at the sudden confidence unlike the him whom you've been spending time with for the past few hours. His neck turns to see you already staring at him with widened eyes. He rumages through his bag, revealing two matching cat keyrings. He keeps the black cat for himself, an animal that you’ve commented looks like him, and gifts you the matching white.

Now, with him facing you, he’s able to land a soft kiss on your forehead. “If I win,” he gulps without fully pulling away, “will you be my girlfriend?”

“Oh,” is the first word that you unconsciously stammer. San smiles, his dimples only making you warmer. Unable to trust your ability to form words, you nod to him once, twice…multiple times.

“Okay,” he inhales sharply. He spares a glance at his competitors of the day. They’re known to be quite vicious in their plays, their teamwork is commented to be one of the best in the state, as they have placed highly in interschool volleyball competitions. 

But Choi San has you.

You’re here, in front of him, to cheer and support him. 

San unzips his jacket, handing the clothing to you. “Is it okay if I ask you to wear this?” Your head shake invites San to drape the material over your shoulder. A whistle blows behind him, the rest of his teammates coming together for a warmup before the game. You keep your eyes on him, unable to look away. Feeling your stare on the side of his face, San leaves you with a few final words: “I’ll give it my all.”

You stand still at the entrance of the room, only managing to stumble to the seat that Wooyoung saved for you minutes after dozing off. Immediately, the smirk on your best friend’s face earns him a hard shoulder smack.

“What was that for?”

“For the second-hand embarrassment! Shut up and watch the game!” 

You kept your eyes only on one player, even if the ball wasn’t in his possession. Even though you’ve been to many of his games before, you’ve never dared to openly pay close, special attention to him. But now with the remnants of his cologne over your figure, and his words filling your head, you couldn’t help but put all your attention on the boy who flawlessly blocks the spikes and offences. 

And now, at match point, the whole place is encouraging their sides, fueling competitiveness for the players on the court. San, thankful for the support, looks over to you in the hopes of catching your gaze. Maybe that’s the best thing he’s done because you mouth a ‘you got this’ with your fists next to your face as encouragement. He inhales deeply, putting the last of his energy and focus into this round.

The next thing he knows, his team huddles together, patting each other's backs and jumping to rid themselves of the excess adrenaline from the final score. From the corner of San’s eye, his coach releases the tension in his body by exhaling on the bench. He spends the next few minutes celebrating with his friends before slipping away from them.

“Go,” Wooyoung bumps your shoulder. With no hesitation, you playfully roll your eyes at him before nearly missing a step in your rush to meet a certain player. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” San holds your shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere, bubs.”

You acknowledge that, pressing a quick peck on his cheek. “I know.” Your fingers sweep his hair away from his face, unintentionally tickling him and erupting him into soft giggles. “You really gave it your all there. I’m proud of you.”

The boy hums, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you towards him. You couldn’t properly prepare for it, resting your palms on his defined chest as he dips his head to you. “I’m sorry that I’m sweaty, but can I kiss you?”

You’re the one who cups his cheek, guiding his lips to touch yours. Both your lips stretch into a smile at the contact, and San slides to join his hands together at your lower back.

“Choi San,” you say between kisses.

“Hm?”

“Thank you for giving it your all.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist

join the taglist here » @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @blossomnet @pirateeznet @illusionnet @haneul-and-clouds

[cocobeanncteez]

Ateez Wooyoung — Between the Lines of Us

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut (mdni / 18+), Drama, non-idol au, university au

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x reader (f)

Word Count: 24k

Warnings/content: Mention of cheating (not by Y/N or Woo), jealous Wooyoung, alcohol consumption / bar + club scenes, arguments, sassy Wooyoung, miscommunication / lack of communication, trust issues, emotional scenes, dry humping, clit play, oral (f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex for a bit before using protection (don't risk it, use protection always), multiple orgasms, sorry if I missed anything else! Please note that other than Ateez, all other names used here are fictional.

Engineering had a way of chewing you up and spitting you out, leaving behind a weird mix of pride and exhaustion. Senior year was supposed to be the calm before the storm of real life—at least, that’s what everyone told you. “Your hardest classes are behind you,” they’d said. And technically, they were right. But no one warned you about the infamous one-year course known as Senior Design.

You stared at the whiteboard in your team’s lab space, the markers bleeding dry from overuse. A timeline of deadlines and half-finished ideas mocked you from the board. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt ahead.

Being a biomedical engineering student at Ateez University had always felt like wearing a badge of honor. It still did, but lately, that badge felt heavier than ever. Between your part-time job at one of the dining halls, your Senior Design project, and keeping up with life outside of school, you were running on low energy and low motivation.

And then there was your… situationship, Jung Wooyoung.

You met Wooyoung about five months ago at a bar while celebrating your bestfriend’s birthday. It was the middle of summer, and the night hummed with warm air and the kind of energy that only comes when you’ve got nothing urgent hanging over your head.

Chaerin, your best friend and unofficial social coordinator, had chosen one of the trendiest bars in the city for her celebration, and needless to say, it was incredibly packed. The music thumped in your chest, the faint scent of citrusy cocktails and spilled beer mixing in the air. Chaerin had gone off to play darts with a couple of your friends, leaving you at the bar with a drink in hand, effortlessly chatting up the bartender about his favorite local spots.

That’s when Wooyoung slid into the empty seat beside you.

“Do you always charm strangers this easily, or is it just bartenders?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement.

You glanced at him, your eyebrows raised. He had an easy grin, the kind that said he was used to making people laugh, and eyes that sparkled like he was already planning his next joke. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most attractive man you’d ever seen around here.

“Only the ones who give me free drinks,” you shot back smoothly, smirking when the bartender snorted at your response.

Wooyoung chuckled, resting an elbow on the bar table surface. “Fair enough. But if you’re looking for free drinks, you might be wasting your time here. I’m much better at drinking them than paying for them.”

“Oh, good,” you quipped. “I was worried you might actually be useful.”

His laugh came louder this time, and before you knew it, the two of you were deep in conversation. He told you he was a Computer Science major at the same university as you and he’d just wrapped up an internship at a local tech company and was enjoying a brief break before his co-op started in the fall. You matched his energy effortlessly, sharing stories about your summer adventures and making him laugh so hard at one point that he nearly spilled his drink.

By the end of the night, Chaerin was tugging you toward the dance floor, and Wooyoung was scribbling his number on a napkin with a dramatic flourish. “In case you ever get bored of charming bartenders,” he said, slipping it into your hand with a wink.

The next day, you found yourself pacing around your apartment, the napkin still sitting on your kitchen counter. You’d told yourself you weren’t going to text him. He was funny and definitely, well… hot, but he also seemed like the kind of guy who knew exactly how to get people to like him. You weren’t sure if he was just playing around with you, and you weren’t one to waste your time on boys.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d grinned when you fired a sarcastic line back at him, or how easily he’d kept up with your humor. Against your better judgment, you picked up your phone.

You: Hey, it’s Y/N, the one who’s apparently too good for bartenders. Hope you didn’t get kicked out of the bar for spilling your drink

His reply came almost immediately.

Wooyoung: Kicked out? Please. I was the highlight of the night. But glad to see you haven’t forgotten me yet

You: Hard to forget someone who almost ruined a perfectly good pair of shoes

Wooyoung: What can I say? I always make an impression

One text turned into two, then ten, and before you knew it, you were swapping jokes and stories like you’d known each other for years. Two weeks later, you subtly dropped hints that you were going to a popular club near campus, hoping he’d show up.

The bar was alive with energy, music thumping through the walls as groups of friends and strangers laughed and danced under dim, colorful lights. You walked in with Chaerin, ready for the night.

It didn’t take long for Chaerin to spot someone she knew, dragging you along to meet them. While she chatted with her friend, you excused yourself to grab a drink. As you approached the bar, a familiar voice called out over the crowd.

“Y/N?”

You turned, and there he was—Wooyoung, leaning casually against the bar with that ever-present smirk. He looked effortlessly good, dressed in a fitted black shirt that rolled up at the sleeves, showing off his forearms. His hair was slightly messy, like he hadn’t planned to show up but somehow still managed to look perfect.

“Wooyoung,” you said, feigning surprise but already feeling your pulse quicken. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah? Or did you secretly hope I’d be here?” His smirk deepened as he pushed off the bar and stepped closer, just enough to invade your space without being overbearing. Of course you hoped he’d be here.

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “In your dreams, Woo.”

“Ah, but dreams come true sometimes,” he quipped, leaning against the bar again. “What are you going to drink?”

“Whatever’s strong and cheap,” you replied with a laugh.

“Cheap?” He shook his head in mock disapproval. “You deserve better than that. I’ve got this one.” He signaled the bartender, ordering something with a sly confidence that told you it’d probably be delicious—and a little dangerous.

You leaned your back against the bar, facing him. “Big spender tonight, huh? What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion. Just… saw someone worth treating,” he said, his voice low but loud enough for you to catch over the music. His eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded, the beat of the music syncing with the thrum of your heartbeat.

The bartender handed over two drinks, and Wooyoung slid one toward you. “Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass against yours. “To… unexpected meetings.”

“To unexpected meetings,” you said, like as if you hadn’t dropped subtle hints of your whereabouts for the night. The drink was smooth, sweet but with a bite that lingered on your tongue—just like him.

As the alcohol worked its way through your system, you found yourself laughing more, leaning in closer to hear him over the noise. He leaned in too, his voice brushing your ear, his breath warm against your skin. The space between you felt electric, charged with something unspoken but undeniable.

The music shifted, a sultry bass-heavy track taking over, and Wooyoung straightened, holding out a hand. “Dance with me?”

You hesitated for only a second before setting your drink down. “Why not?”

The dance floor was packed, bodies moving to the rhythm, the lights flickering in time with the music. Wooyoung pulled you into the crowd, his hand firm but gentle on your waist. The space between you disappeared as you began to move together, your bodies naturally finding the same rhythm.

His hands lingered on your hips, guiding you closer, his touch deliberate but teasing. You met his gaze, and for a moment, the air between you thickened. His lips curved into a wicked smile, and before you could overthink it, he leaned in, carefully watching your expression to see any hesitation.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he murmured in your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin.

You pulled away to look at him. “Have I ever told you that you do too?” This time, you leaned in, brushing your lips on his lightly, testing the waters. But the moment he responded, it deepened. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you against him, and your fingers found their way into his hair. The music pulsed around you, but it was distant compared to the pounding of your heart.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, lost in the haze of the music and the heat between you. When you finally pulled back, realizing that things were getting hot and heavy and you were still in a public setting, his eyes were dark, searching yours.

“Want to get out of here?” he asked, his voice rough and low.

You smirked, still catching your breath. “My place or yours?”

Presently, Wooyoung somehow managed to juggle his co-op, his friendships, and his relentless optimism without breaking a sweat. While you were pouring coffee at midnight twice a week for fellow college students at your job, he was asleep. While he was debugging code at a sleek office desk in the morning, you were asleep. While you were buried in your senior design work and other classes, Wooyoung was busy at his co-op or catching up with his friends. He was supposed to graduate a semester early, but he got this co-op last minute, so he decided to push his graduation to the next semester. He liked it better this way as you and most of his friends were graduating during the spring. His co-op was a 20-minute drive away from campus, so he was glad he didn't have to go through the trouble of finding another place to stay and subleasing his apartment for the semester.

You were proud of him—you really were. But the cracks in your schedules meant seeing each other less and less. The only time the two of you could actually spend some quality time together was on the weekends.

It was late on a Friday night, and you were curled up on the couch in your small one-bedroom apartment. The apartment was quiet except for the low murmur of the TV, where an old rom-com played in the background. Wooyoung sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, his laptop open as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

“You’ve been staring at that screen for hours,” you said softly, reaching out to run a hand through his silky black hair that he’s been growing out. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

He turned his back to look at you, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. “Of work? Constantly. Of being awesome? Never.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, appreciating the glimmer of his usual charm. “What are you working on this time?”

“Just polishing some scripts for a demo on Monday,” he said, his voice tinged with focus. “I’ll be done soon.”

Nodding, you left him to it, but the silence between you felt heavier than it used to. Late nights like this had become routine—him buried in his co-op responsibilities, you juggling your courses and your part-time job. Time together had dwindled to brief moments like this, where the companionship was comforting but fleeting.

After a few more minutes, Wooyoung finally shut his laptop with a decisive click and turned to face you. “Hey Y/N? So… I’ve got something to tell you.”

The seriousness in his tone made you sit up a little straighter. “What’s up?”

“I’m going to Busan next week,” he said, his words careful but casual.

“Busan?” you repeated, curiosity flickering across your face. “For work?”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s this company event—networking, panels, that sort of thing. I wasn’t expecting to go since it’s mostly for full-time employees, but they extended the invite to co-ops too.”

You nodded, a small smile forming on your lips. “That’s great, Woo. It sounds like a big deal.”

“It is,” he admitted, though his smile didn’t quite match the excitement in his words. “But it’s over the weekend.”

Your heart sank a little at that. Weekends were precious, the only time you both had to really reconnect amidst the chaos of your schedules. Still, you refused to let the disappointment show.

“Well, you should go,” you said sincerely. “It’s a good opportunity, and you’ve worked hard for this.”

Wooyoung’s eyes softened, a small crease forming between his brows. “I was kind of hoping you’d come with me.”

Your relationship with Wooyoung was… straightforward and complicated at the same time. The two of you weren’t dating, weren’t committed to each other, and yet things between you both were exclusive. Your friends referred to him as your “boyfriend,” claiming that’s how he acts. Honestly? You’d be lying if you said you didn’t act like a girlfriend too. There was just no tag for this relationship. Wooyoung only briefly mentioned one time that he doesn’t do relationships but also doesn’t like to fuck around. But feelings? He never really said anything about it. Were you FWBs? Were you… well, let’s just say it’s complicated.

His offer caught you off guard, and you laughed lightly, though your tone was gentle. “That’s sweet, but you know I can’t. I’ve got Senior Design deadlines next week, and one of my teammates is already slacking. If I disappear for three days, I’ll come back to double the workload.”

He nodded slowly, though his smile faded at the mention of your project, knowing how stressed you can get over it. “Who’s the teammate giving you trouble?”

“His name is Minhyuk, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you said, “Yongha and I have been picking up the slack for him.” You noticed the way his posture stiffened. “Jina is doing fine too, but she’s taking so any credits and has three hard classes, so we offered to ease her load a bit.”

Wooyoung’s expression relaxed slightly, but the way his jaw tightened when you mentioned Yongha didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Lee Yongha, right?” he asked after a moment, his tone light but probing.

You raised an eyebrow slightly. Your university was huge in terms of the number of enrolled students, and you knew Yongha grew up in the other side of the country, so you wondered how Wooyoung knew of him. “Yeah. Do you know him?”

He shook his head quickly, though the flicker of unease in his eyes told a different story. “Not really. Just heard the name around, I guess.”

The shift in his mood was subtle but noticeable, and it lingered in the air even as he changed the subject by asking if you wanted to go to the mall with him tomorrow. You didn’t press him on it, but something about the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes left you wondering.

-x-x-x-

The weekdays came and went, and you found yourself in the thick of the chaos. Your team’s project was barely hanging by a thread, and Minhyuk’s lack of participation was only making things worse. Despite your best efforts to keep everything together, it felt like you were drowning in deadlines. On top of that, Wooyoung was gone to Busan for his company event, and the days felt longer without him.

Saturday morning, you found yourself in the library, headphones plugged in, buried in your laptop and scribbling notes. You could barely keep your eyes open, but there was no way you could afford to fall behind. Your phone buzzed, a message from Wooyoung lighting up the screen.

Woo: Hope you’re surviving the weekend without me

You smiled, a soft warmth spreading through you. You missed him, even if you hadn’t admitted it yet. After a few moments of deliberation, you replied:

You: Surviving… barely. But I’ve got enough caffeine in me to last until Monday. How’s Busan?

Woo: It’s great. The event’s been interesting. I met some cool people. Don’t drink too much coffee

You paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to ask him more about his trip, about his thoughts on the event, but you couldn’t stop thinking about your team, about the mess you were still trying to clean up.

You: I’ll try. I’ll be glad when you’re back!

You hit send and leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head. The library was quiet, but it felt like the walls were closing in. The pressure was mounting, and all you wanted was a chance to breathe.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzed again. You expected a simple reply from Wooyoung, but this time it was a voice message. You clicked on it, holding your breath as his familiar voice filled your ears.

"Hey, I just wanted to say, I know things are tough right now, and I’m sorry I can’t be there to help. But just remember, you’re not alone in this. You’ve got this. I believe in you. And if you ever need a distraction, I’m only a call away. I love—ah, um, the ocean here, I love the sea, yeah, I wish you could see it."

You closed your eyes, letting his words sink in. It was exactly what you needed to hear. There was something about the way he spoke, the confidence in his voice, that made you feel like everything would eventually work out. The end of it made you catch your breath, thinking he was going to tell you he loves you.

Your phone buzzed again, this time a text from him.

Woo: Take a break for me, okay? You’ve earned it. I’ll be back soon, and we can catch up

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart feeling a little lighter. As much as you had to focus on your work, you couldn’t ignore the fact that Wooyoung had a way of making you feel like you weren’t carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders alone.

You were just about to stand up for a much-needed break when your phone buzzed on the table.

It was a message from the senior design team group chat. You quickly reached for your phone, and your eyes landed on Yongha’s name.

Yongha: Guys, I have AMAZING news!

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. With the project feeling like it was slowly spiraling, good news seemed like a distant dream. You tapped the message, intrigued.

Yongha: I just got off the call with the sensor supplier. They confirmed the prototype sensors we ordered will be ready ahead of schedule. We’re good to start testing next week if everything goes as planned!

A wide grin spread across your face. Ready ahead of schedule? That was huge. Testing next week? That was exactly what you needed to keep this project on track and show your professors the progress you were hoping for. For a moment, you let the excitement wash over you, imagining how the timeline would change.

You typed quickly, not wasting a second.

You: No way! That’s amazing! When can we start testing?

Yongha: Next week for sure. We might even have enough time to do a demo for the end of the semester. I’ll need you here to help with the setup. Can you come over to the lab later to go over everything?

Your heart skipped a beat. A demo? That was more than you expected. Things were looking up, and for the first time in days, you allowed yourself to feel the excitement.

You: A demo before the end of the semester? That’s incredible! Yeah, I’ll come later. Let me know what time works best

You couldn’t stop the smile on your face as you sent the message. This could be the breakthrough you’d been waiting for, the moment everything fell into place. After all the stress and late nights, things were finally moving forward.

But then your phone buzzed again, a message from your slacking teammate.

Minhyuk: Sorry, I’m behind on my part of the project. I’ll catch up soon

You stared at the screen for a moment, the smile slowly fading. Another excuse. It always seemed like it was the same thing, promises of catching up, but no action. You let out a frustrated breath and quickly closed the message. You didn’t have time to dwell on it right now.

You had to message Wooyoung about this though.

You: Good news! The sensors are ahead of schedule! We can start testing next week

You paused, fingers hovering over the screen. You really didn’t want to complain about Minhyuk, but you couldn’t keep everything bottled up.

You: But… Minhyuk is still slacking off

You pressed send and put your phone down for a moment, running a hand through your hair. You couldn’t let this bring you down now—not with the progress the team had made. You had to focus on the positives, on the opportunity ahead.

A minute later, your phone buzzed again with Wooyoung’s reply.

Wooyoung: I’m proud of you, seriously. But I get it. You’ve been pushing so hard. Take it one step at a time, okay? And if you need a break, just call me. I’m here for you

The words were simple, but they grounded you. You felt a little lighter, like you could breathe again. With the good news about the sensors, maybe there was a way forward after all.

You: You’re the best, Woo! I’m heading to my lab now

You grabbed your jacket and stood up, ready to head out to the lab.

As you walked across campus, the air felt crisp, and a quiet energy hummed through your steps. Campus was relatively calm as it’s a Saturday. Normally, you’d be half-dragging yourself through the day, but today felt different. Today, something good was happening. You couldn’t remember the last time the project felt like it was on the right track.

When you entered the lab, you were greeted by the familiar sound of the soft whir of machines, but the place was noticeably more organized than usual. Yongha was already there, pacing by one of the tables, a laptop open in front of him. He looked up as you walked in, his face breaking into a grin.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with enthusiasm, “Glad you could make it. I’ve got everything ready for us to go over the prototype designs.”

You smiled, nodding as you dropped your bag on a nearby counter. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You’re telling me we’re actually getting these sensors ahead of schedule?” Your voice almost had a note of disbelief in it, but you were genuinely excited. It felt like you’d been waiting forever for a breakthrough, and now it was finally here.

Yongha laughed, clapping his hands together. “Yes, ahead of schedule. It’s almost like everything we’ve been working on is finally paying off. I mean, look at this!” He gestured to the sleek-looking box on the counter, a small screen and a set of wires connecting it to the main unit. You walked over to get a closer look.

“Is this the sensor prototype?” you asked, leaning in.

“Yep! This is the first iteration. It’s not perfect, but it's a start. The suppliers said they’ve managed to miniaturize everything, so it should be portable. We’ve got everything we need to start testing today.”

You ran your fingers over the surface of the device, inspecting it closely. It was smaller than you expected, much more compact. The potential was clear. A wave of excitement rushed through you again. This could be the thing that would make your project stand out.

You turned to Yongha, eyes bright. “So, what’s the plan? How do we get started with testing?”

Yongha gestured to the table, where several test tubes, samples, and the rest of the lab equipment were laid out. “First, we need to calibrate the sensor, make sure the readings are accurate. I’ve got some control samples here. We’ll run a few tests and make sure everything works before we try with real biological samples. I’ve already set up the software—just need to input the parameters for each test.”

You nodded, walking over to the table to take your place beside him. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s get this show on the road.”

As you both dove into the work, the lab began to feel alive with purpose. You were no longer bogged down by the frustration of Minhyuk’s lack of effort. The pieces were finally falling into place. For the first time in a long while, everything felt like it was moving forward in the right direction.

As you calibrated the sensor, the rhythm of your work was interrupted by a soft buzz from your phone on the counter. You glanced over, seeing that it was another message from Wooyoung. You smiled briefly, thinking of him in Busan.

Wooyoung: How’s the lab going?

You quickly tapped out a response, not wanting to lose focus on the task at hand but appreciating his check-in.

You: It’s going great! The sensors are ahead of schedule. I’m at the lab with Yongha now, testing everything. Hopefully, we’ll have good results today!

After a beat, another message popped up.

Wooyoung: That’s awesome

You: Yup, I’m gonna get back to work now

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, refocusing on the task at hand. You and Yongha continued working through the calibration and fine-tuning of the sensor, running test after test. There were some hiccups along the way—a few misreadings here and there, a few software glitches—but with each iteration, it became clearer that the sensor was working exactly as it should. The readings were more accurate with each test, and the excitement in the lab built with every successful result.

By the time the afternoon stretched into the evening, you were both buzzing with energy. The data was promising. The prototype sensor was functioning very well. This could really be the breakthrough you needed.

“I think we’re ready for the real samples next week,” Yongha said, leaning back in his chair and wiping his brow. His voice carried a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “What do you think?”

You stepped back, surveying the lab table strewn with equipment and data printouts. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close—closer than you’d dared to hope. “Yeah,” you said, a grin spreading across your face. “I can’t wait to see it all come together.”

Yongha chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re more patient than me. I’d start testing tonight if I could.”

You laughed. “That makes one of us. I’m ready to celebrate getting this far without setting something on fire.”

“Well, speaking of celebrations…” Yongha stretched his arms over his head and stood up. “I’m heading to that café down the street for a frappe before I call it a night. Want to join me? My treat.”

The mention of caffeine perked you up instantly. “A frappe sounds good, but I’m paying for my mocha cream bread,” you said, grabbing your bag.

“Deal,” Yongha said with a smile. “Let’s go before they sell out.”

The evening air was crisp as you and Yongha stepped out of the lab. The café wasn’t far, just a short walk down the cobblestone path lined with trees that rustled gently in the breeze. You adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, glancing at Yongha.

“So, how are your other classes going?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Not too bad,” Yongha replied, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “Biomechanics is killing me, though. I can’t tell if it’s the material or the professor’s monotone voice.”

You laughed, nodding knowingly. “Dr. Kim? Yeah, he could make winning the lottery sound like a tax seminar. I survived his class last semester with copious amounts of caffeine and an unhealthy attachment to Quizlet.”

“That sounds about right,” he said with a grin. “How about you? What’s your least favorite class this semester?”

“Easy. Biostatistics,” you groaned. “I get the concept, but the actual analysis makes me want to curl up and cry. It’s like the numbers are personally attacking me.”

Yongha chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re handling Senior Design, work, and Biostatistics? You’re a masochist.”

“Or just really bad at prioritizing my sanity,” you joked, earning another laugh from him.

Before long, the café came into view, its cozy interior lit by soft, warm lights. The rich smell of coffee and freshly baked goods greeted you as you stepped inside. You both ordered—Yongha sticking to a frappe, while you opted for your favorite mocha cream bread and a white chocolate frappe. You found a small table near the window.

The conversation shifted as you sipped your drinks, veering between shared frustrations about classwork and lighthearted teasing about your group’s quirks. You were genuinely enjoying yourself—it wasn’t often that you got to talk to Yongha outside of project stress, and it was nice to connect on a more casual level.

Then the door swung open, and you heard a familiar voice.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Wooyoung’s friends, Yeosang and San, walking in. Their laughter trailed off as they spotted you. They looked surprised, their gazes flickering between you and Yongha.

You’ve hung out with them a couple times and they were genuinely amazing people. You weren’t very close to them yet, but your friendship was blossoming. You knew Chaerin had a thing for San and planned to make a move on him soon.

“Yeosang! San!” you said, smiling. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Grabbing a bite after the gym,” Yeosang said, his tone light but his eyes curiously scanning the scene. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Ah, yes,” you gestured to Yongha. “This is my classmate and senior design teammate, Yongha.” He smirked, and you noticed San and Yeosang didn’t seem… impressed. “Yongha, these are my friends, San and Yeosang.”

Yongha nodded. “Pleasure to meet you.”

San raised an eyebrow, but there was a serious expression on his face. “Likewise.”

“Well, we should let you get back to it,” Yeosang said after a beat, nudging San. “Catch you later, Y/N.”

“Yeah, see you around,” San added, giving you a wink before following Yeosang to the counter.

As they moved away, Yongha exhaled, leaning back in his chair. “Your friends are… interesting.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “They’re good guys. Don’t take it personally… I think they’re just exhausted from the gym.”

“I won’t,” Yongha said with a small smile, though his eyes followed the pair as they ordered their drinks.

You remembered how Wooyoung tensed up when you mentioned Yongha before. Taking a sip of your drink, you watched Yeosang and San grab a table on the other side of the café.

You didn’t really know what was going on, but you had a feeling that they all knew each other.

-x-x-x-

The open group floor of the library buzzed with life, a mix of chatter, the tapping of laptop keys, and the hiss of the nearby espresso machine filling the air. You sat cross-legged on a worn couch, sipping a frozen hot chocolate drink as Chaerin scrolled through her phone beside you. Siya perched on the armrest, her legs swinging slightly, her energy as vibrant as her orange blazer.

“I’m telling you, it’s perfect,” Siya said, holding her phone out to show a picture of the dress she’d been obsessing over. It was a sleek, floor-length black gown with a thigh-high slit and an intricate beaded neckline. “Isn’t it gorgeous? Classy but with just enough wow factor to make people remember me.”

Chaerin leaned forward, squinting at the screen. “It’s beautiful, but are you sure it’s appropriate for a business club event? The slit is a little… daring.”

“Exactly!” Siya beamed, clearly unbothered. “What better way to make an impression? I’ll be memorable and professional. Win-win.”

You snorted into your coffee. “Siya, you’re not making an impression; you’re making a statement. Don’t be surprised if someone asks you for a red carpet interview.”

“That’s the goal,” she said with a dramatic hair flip. “Honestly, we were going to call this event ‘The Business Ball’ but our club’s president didn’t like it. Besides, this event is less about stuffy networking and more about showing off and rubbing elbows with people who matter.”

“Who matter… like Song Mingi?” Chaerin teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

Siya gasped, clutching her chest. “How dare you call me out like this! But, yes, I might want him to notice me. You don’t just let a tall, sexy man with a voice like that go unnoticed.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes, smirking. “If Mingi doesn’t notice you in that dress, he’s blind and not worth your time.”

“Exactly!” Siya pointed at you triumphantly. “See, Y/N gets it.”

Chaerin grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Fine, but if you end up stealing the spotlight from the guest speaker or get caught in an oops moment with that slit, don’t come crying to us.”

“I won’t!” Siya waved her hand dismissively. “I’m a professional. I know how to handle a slit.”

That sent the three of you into a fit of laughter, drawing a few curious glances from nearby students. You didn’t care—this was one of the few times you could let loose after a weekend of work and lab stress.

When the laughter died down, Siya sighed wistfully, looking at the dress on her phone again. “Anyway, I still need to buy it. It’s a bit expensive, but it’s worth it, right?”

“Totally,” Chaerin said, nudging her. “Think of it as an investment in your future—and your love life.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Just make sure you don’t outshine the actual event. We wouldn’t want the business club talking about your dress more than the keynote speaker.”

“Let them talk,” Siya said with a grin. “Isn’t that the whole point of black-tie events?”

Siya set her phone down and leaned forward, clasping her hands dramatically. “Okay, enough about me. What’s new with you two? Chaerin, have you figured out what to wear for your cousin’s wedding yet, or are you still pretending you’ll find something last minute?”

Chaerin groaned, dropping her head back against the couch. “Ugh, don’t remind me. My mom keeps sending me links to these over-the-top hanboks that make me look like a walking flower arrangement. I love her, but I’m not trying to outshine the bride.”

“Just go modern,” you suggested. “There are some stunning minimalist designs that would make your mom happy and still let you breathe.”

“Easy for you to say,” Chaerin retorted, poking your arm. “You’re not dealing with a family that’s convinced weddings are the Olympics of fashion.”

“Touché,” you said, grinning.

Siya smirked, nudging Chaerin. “You’re stressing for nothing. You could show up in a potato sack, and people would still talk about how good you look.”

“Thanks for the confidence boost,” Chaerin said, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, what about you, Y/N? Anything exciting from your end?”

You hesitated, swirling the remains of your iced coffee. “Not much, honestly. Just the usual—Senior Design, work, and trying to stay sane.”

Chaerin raised an eyebrow. “No drama with your Jung Wooyoung situation? You both have been unusually quiet.”

Siya’s eyes lit up. “Girl, how are you surviving that? He’s fine as hell. If it were me, I’d catch feelings in, like, a week.”

“Oh she has feelings for him, that’s for sure,” Chaerin chipped in.

You laughed, but the mention of Wooyoung brought an odd flutter to your stomach. “It’s not that deep,” you said, brushing it off. “We both know what it is, and we’re keeping it casual.”

“Hmm,” Chaerin hummed, unconvinced. “And how’s that working out for you, really?”

“Honestly? It’s fine,” you said, leaning back. “We don’t get to hang out much because of his co-op and my schedule, so it’s not like we’re in each other’s faces all the time. It works.”

“Does it, though?” Siya pressed, tilting her head. “I mean, you’re cool with it now, but what happens when one of you starts wanting more? It’s been a couple of months already and y’all low-key act like a couple anyway.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I think we’re both too busy for that kind of drama.”

Chaerin exchanged a glance with Siya, who smirked knowingly but let the topic drop.

“Alright, if you say so,” Chaerin said, sitting up.

You glanced at the time on your phone and sighed. “Speaking of busy, I should probably head out. I’ve got a ton of work to do before lab tomorrow.”

Siya groaned dramatically, flopping against the couch. “You’re leaving us? Who am I supposed to talk to about my fashion emergencies?”

“You’ll survive,” you said with a grin, grabbing your bag. “And for the record, buy the dress. It’s a power move.”

Siya beamed, giving you a thumbs-up. “Knew you’d come through for me.”

Chaerin nudged you lightly as you stood. “Don’t work too hard, okay? And let us know if you need help with… well, anything.”

You hesitated, her words making you pause. For a second, you thought about telling them everything—about Yongha, the awkward café encounter and the way it seems like there’s some sort of history between the boys. But the thought of unpacking all of that now felt exhausting, and you weren’t even sure where to start.

“I will,” you said instead, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “See you both later.”

As you stepped out of the library, the cool evening air hit you, a welcome contrast to the stuffy warmth inside. The conversation about Wooyoung lingered in your mind as you walked, mingling with the memory of Yeosang and San’s frosty reception toward Yongha.

You shook your head, as if physically trying to dispel the thoughts. It wasn’t your problem, you reminded yourself. Whatever happened between them was their business, and you had more pressing things to focus on—like preparing for tomorrow’s lab session and making sure the project stayed on track.

When you got to your apartment, you were surprised to see Wooyoung leaning casually against your doorframe, his phone in hand. He looked up as you approached, a grin spreading across his face.

“Woo? What are you doing here on a Tuesday night?” you asked, punching in your passcode to unlock the door.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he replied smoothly, slipping his phone into his pocket.

You gave him a skeptical look as you pushed the door open, taking your shoes off. “Seriously. Did you lose a bet or something?”

He followed you inside without answering, kicking off his sneakers by the door. The moment you turned to close it, he was on you, pressing you gently but firmly against the wood.

“Woo, what—”

“I just had to see you,” he interrupted, his voice low and breath warm against your cheek. His hands rested on either side of you, caging you in but not making you feel trapped.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to let him see that. Instead, you smirked, sliding your arms around his neck. “Can’t wait three more days, can you?”

His laugh was soft and breathy, but his eyes stayed locked on yours, their usual mischief laced with something heavier. “Maybe not,” he admitted, his tone teasing but edged with sincerity.

You tilted your head, brushing your lips lightly along the side of his neck. “You’re lucky I don’t mind breaking my no-midweek-visits rule.” A rule you had in place solely because you had to get up quite early on Wednesdays and you would struggle if you didn’t sleep early due to certain… distractions.

“Lucky?” He let out a soft scoff, his lips curving into a smirk as he dipped his head closer. “I’d say I’m very lucky.”

Before you could retort, his mouth found yours, the kiss warm and demanding. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, as if daring him to show you exactly how much he’d missed you.

Wooyoung’s hands tightened on your waist as the kiss deepened, his body pressing against yours in a way that made it hard to think straight. His lips trailed along your jaw, down to your neck, leaving a trail of warmth that sent shivers down your spine.

“Woo,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady despite the haze settling over your thoughts. “I thought you were busy with work this week.”

“I am,” he said between kisses, his voice a little breathless. “But I needed a break. And you.”

The bluntness of his words made your chest tighten, though you weren’t sure if it was because of how easily he said it or how much you liked hearing it.

You tugged lightly at his hair, making him look up at you with those dark, teasing eyes that always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He grinned, cocky as ever. “Impossible to resist?”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, he kissed you again, his hands sliding up to frame your face. When the kiss broke, you rested your forehead against his, trying to catch your breath. “You’re such a distraction,” you muttered, though there was no bite to your words.

“Good,” he said softly, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “You work too hard anyway.”

You couldn’t argue with that, but you also couldn’t let him think he could just show up and derail your week. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood tonight,” you teased, poking his chest lightly.

“Or maybe you’re just always in a good mood when I’m around,” he shot back, smirking.

“Don’t push it,” you warned, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

He stepped back reluctantly, giving you a little space. “Okay, okay. I’ll behave… for now.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Behave? That’s new for you.”

He laughed, the sound filling the room with a warmth you hadn’t realized you needed. “Don’t get used to it,” he said, walking into your kitchen to grab something to drink. You took this opportunity to hang your jacket and freshen up a bit in the bathroom, changing into a new sleepwear set you ordered online.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, the faint sizzle and savory aroma of something cooking drew you toward the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks as you turned the corner, your breath hitching just slightly. There was Wooyoung, standing at your counter, sleeves rolled up—well, lack of sleeves entirely, as he’d taken off his hoodie and was now wearing a loose black tank top. The fabric hung low enough to hint at his toned chest, and his arms, lined with prominent veins, moved with practiced precision as he chopped up whatever vegetables he could find in your kitchen.

He didn’t notice you at first, focused on his task. His brow furrowed slightly as he tossed the freshly chopped vegetables into the sizzling pan with a flick of his wrist. The sound of the oil crackling filled the air, mixing with the scent of soy sauce and garlic. You stood there, watching him cook. You couldn’t help but blatantly check him out. You wanted to run your hands over his veiny arms and watch his abs harden while he’s fucking you, and— the sound of running water interrupted your thoughts. Wooyoung finished cooking what you were certain of was fried rice and was now washing his hands.

Mentally reminding yourself to pull it together, you walked into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” you asked, leaning casually against your small, 4-seater dining table, trying to appear unaffected.

Wooyoung looked over his shoulder while drying his hands with a towel. For a moment, you swore you saw his jaw tighten, like he was trying to hold something back. His eyes scanned you slowly, from head to toe, and you could feel the weight of his gaze lingering just a second too long on the way your sleepwear clung to your body. The shorts were undeniably short, and the crop top left a little too much exposed skin, but you didn’t expect his reaction to be this… intense.

The look in his eyes shifted, almost imperceptibly, as if he was battling with something inside. His fingers tightened on the towel, and you could see the slight twitch of his jaw as he tried to keep himself composed, his usual cocky smirk faltering for just a second.

Taking a deep breath, Wooyoung made his way towards you. He placed his hands on the dining table on either side of you, trapping you in between his arms. “I think the question is what are you doing to me, Y/N?” he said in a low tone. You moved slightly to sit on the edge of the dining table.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said innocently, though your next action of pulling him closer by the waistband of his sweatpants was anything but innocent.

“I—fuck, Y/N. If you keep doing this to me,” his hand moved into your hair, gently grabbing it to tilt your head back to look at him, “I won’t be able to behave anymore.”

“Then don’t,” you said daringly, spreading your legs to give him the space to stand in between them. Wooyoung wasted no time in crashing his lips onto yours. Your hands were around his neck, trying to pull him even closer if that was even possible, while his hands were moving up and down the exposed skin of your thighs. He broke the kiss to trail kisses down your neck to the exposed skin of your chest before he came back up.

“May I?” he asked, his fingers at the hem of your top. You nod and try to take it off, but Wooyoung stops you. “Keep it on, it looks so good on you.” He pushes your top up only enough to free your boobs so that he could latch onto them. His tongue swirls around your nipple while his hand plays with your other boob, giving it a gentle massage. He switches sides and mimics his actions. Once he’s done, he trails kisses down to the waistband of your shorts and looks up at you for consent.

“On the dining table?” you ask with a raised eyebrow. Wooyoung smirks. “Dessert on the dining table, why not? Besides, you never use it anyway.” That was true since you always eat on your couch while watching something. “Now lean back and relax for me, sweetheart.”

You did as he said, and he slid your shorts along with your underwear down your legs. “So eager for me,” he states, noticing the wet stain on your panties before tossing it onto a chair. He gets down on his knees to be at eye level with your pussy, and moves your thighs to rest over his shoulders. He trails kisses along your inner thighs before reaching your heated core. Your hand moved into his hair and your body feels so warm. Wooyoung licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, letting out a small moan at your taste. He repeats his actions a couple of times before latching onto your clit, gently sucking the nub. You squirm, bucking your hips up. Wooyoung smirks, moving his arms around your thighs to hold you down in place so you couldn’t move.

“Woo… god, fuck,” you moan. He hums before lapping at your clit in a faster pace that had you gripping the sides of the table. He let go of one of your thighs to bring his hand to your hole, slipping a finger inside while continuing to lap at your clit. Your free thigh moved to squeeze his head once you felt the pressure building up in your lower abdomen. Wooyoung added another finger and pumped it in and out in a similar pace to the way he ate you out. “I… Woo, I’m—” Before you could finish your sentence, your orgasm crashed over you, rattling your body. Wooyoung slowed his pace while you rode out your high, savoring the taste of your cum on his tongue. He pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean before lifting you up, grabbing your clothes from the chair, walking to your bedroom.

Wooyoung set you down on your bed and took his tank top and pants off, leaving himself bare in front of you. He reached for the drawer on your nightstand, taking a condom from it. He set it aside as usual since you both went a little raw for a bit.

He pumps his hard cock in his hand before running it along your wet folds to lubricate it. You whimper when the head of his dick rubs against your sensitive clit that was still pulsating from his previous actions. “Are you ready for me, sweetheart?” he asks and you buck your hips, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“I want to ride you,” you say and Wooyoung felt like he would bust at your words.

He moved to lie down on your bed, and you straddle his lap. You reconnect your lips to his, kissing him in a heavy way, slipping your tongue in his mouth. He matches your pace while his hands move along the sides of your body, feeling every inch of your skin. Without breaking the kiss, you take his dick in your hand, aligning it with your hole before sinking all the way down. You moaned at the stretch and the mild sting you felt. You gave yourself some time to adjust, pulling away from the kiss. Wooyoung’s hair was disheveled and his lips were swollen, and he looked so, so sexy. You rolled your hips against his, placing your hands on the wall in front of you while you moved up and down his length, your warm walls squeezing his cock.

“Always so tight no matter how much I fuck you,” he comments, his hands grabbing your ass. “I’m gonna need that condom now, Y/N.”

You smirk, ignoring his words to move faster on him, teasing him dangerously the way he teases you. Wooyoung’s bites his lip, the thrill of letting you him raw brings goosebumps to his skin every single time. But you had to get off him, and you quickly ripped the square packet, taking the circular item out, wasting no time in unrolling the condom onto his dick. You climbed back onto his lap and sank back down on his cock. This time, you placed your feet flat on the bed and bounced on his dick, your bed squeaking at the movement.

“F-fuck Y/N,” Wooyoung moans, his hips bucking up to meet yours halfway, skin slapping hard against each other. He reached between your legs to rub your clit in circular motions while you slammed down hard on his dick, chasing your orgasm.

“Woo, you feel so fucking good.” Your core tightened and you let go, moaning loudly while letting yet another orgasm wash over you.

“Almost there,” Wooyoung groans, fucking up into you faster before coming to a still, spilling inside the condom in you. You felt his dick pulse with every load he shot, and you slumped down against his chest, breathing heavily. He kissed your forehead, letting you lie down on his chest until you moved to get off him.

“You good there?” he asks and you hum in response, getting up to go pee and wash your hands. Wooyoung follows you to the bathroom to clean up and dispose the used condom before throwing his clothes on. He waited for you to get dressed before engulfing you in his arms.

“Let’s have dinner now, hmm?” he says, kissing your head before taking your hand in his, dragging you to the kitchen.

-x-x-x-

Chaerin’s apartment smelled faintly of vanilla candles and coffee, the cozy vibe a perfect contrast to the slightly chaotic retelling of your night with Wooyoung. You were curled up on her couch, legs tucked under you, while Chaerin sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping from a steaming mug of tea.

“So, let me get this straight,” Chaerin began, her tone dripping with exasperation. “He shows up unannounced, cooks for you, fucks you, and then stays the night on a Tuesday? And you’re still not dating?”

You shrugged, twisting the edge of a throw pillow between your fingers. “It’s not like that. We’re just… having fun.”

“Having fun?” Chaerin repeated, raising an eyebrow so high it practically disappeared into her hairline. “That man is head over heels for you. And you’re just letting it slide because…?”

“Because we’re busy,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “He’s got his co-op. I’ve got my own stuff. Adding dating into the mix would be like asking for trouble.”

Chaerin gave you a pointed look, her tea forgotten on the coffee table. “Y/N, you’re literally living the plot of every rom-com ever. Boy likes girl, girl pretends it’s casual, drama ensues, and then—bam! You realize you’re in love with each other. Just skip the drama part and go straight to dating. Y’all already act like a couple, so I don’t see how things would be any different.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is, though!” Chaerin leaned forward, her enthusiasm contagious. “You already spend all your free time with him. He clearly adores you. What are you waiting for, a neon sign?”

Before you could argue, she shifted gears, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Speaking of signs, I made a move on San. I, um, waved at him at the east dining hall.”

You chuckled. “That’s it?”

Chaerin tossed a throw pillow at you, laughing when you barely dodged it. “Shut up! It’s not that easy, okay? San’s… intimidating.”

You raised a brow. “San? Intimidating? He’s like the human embodiment of a golden retriever.”

“Yeah, but a hot golden retriever,” Chaerin argued, her cheeks flushing. “Every time I see him, my brain just… short-circuits. It’s embarrassing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, sitting up straighter. “You’ve got to shoot your shot, Chaerin. What’s the worst thing that could happen? He says no? I doubt it though.”

She groaned, flopping onto the floor dramatically. “Why do you have to be so reasonable?”

“Because someone has to be,” you teased.

Chaerin propped herself up on her elbows, giving you a sly grin. “Fine, I’ll make a… stronger move on San if you admit that Wooyoung is more than just a hookup.”

You rolled your eyes, getting to your feet. “Not happening.”

“Then I guess we’re both cowards,” Chaerin called after you as you headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“Guess so!” you shouted back, though your chest tightened a little at the thought of Wooyoung and everything he made you feel—feelings you weren’t quite ready to unpack just yet. You knew you had strong feelings for him, but you didn’t know if he felt the same and for now, you liked the way things were between the two of you, so why ruin it?

After spending an hour with Chaerin, you headed to the dining hall for your work shift. Then, you made your way to the engineering building, the familiar buzz of fluorescent lights and faint hum of lab equipment greeting you as you entered.

You glanced at your phone, checking the time. 6:06 PM—not bad. You weren’t expecting much from today’s meeting; it was supposed to be a quick check-in with the team to discuss next steps, but you were going to stay back for a while with Yongha to get some data collected.

As you approached the door of the lab, you noticed Jina walking in at the same time. She gave you a polite smile, clutching her laptop to her chest.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, holding the door open for you.

“Hey, Jina,” you replied, stepping inside, thanking her for holding the door for you.

Your eyes immediately landed on Yongha, who was already seated at the lab bench, scribbling notes in a notebook. His sleeves were rolled up, and his focus was so intense he didn’t even look up when you and Jina entered.

What surprised you, though, was seeing Minhyuk in the corner of the room, fiddling with a piece of equipment. It was a rare sight.

“Minhyuk?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

He turned at the sound of his name, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Hey. Thought I’d show up for once.”

You exchanged a glance with Jina, both of you equally stunned. Minhyuk had been the notorious ghost of your team, always finding excuses to skip meetings or leave work undone. Seeing him here felt almost surreal.

“Did the universe shift while I was gone, or are you actually here to help?” Jina teased, setting her laptop down on the table beside Yongha.

Minhyuk laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, I deserve that. But seriously, I’m here to pull my weight tonight. Promise.”

Yongha finally looked up from his notes, his expression unreadable as he glanced between you and Minhyuk. “Guess miracles do happen,” he said dryly, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckled as you set up your laptop, the tension easing slightly. “Well, it’s good to have all hands on deck. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

As the team settled into work, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. With everyone present and seemingly motivated, maybe—just maybe—tonight would actually be productive.

The hum of the centrifuge joined the soft clatter of keyboards as everyone found their rhythm. It was almost unsettling how focused Minhyuk seemed, diligently taking notes and double-checking calculations with Jina. For once, it felt like a proper team effort.

Yongha stood by the biosensor prototype, carefully adjusting the settings on the connected monitor. He looked up, catching your gaze. “Hey, Y/N, can you double-check the calibration? I think we’re close, but I don’t want to risk any errors.”

You nodded, moving to stand beside him. The device gleamed under the lab’s fluorescent lights, the culmination of weeks of late nights and stress. “Sure. Let’s see.”

As you worked, Yongha leaned slightly closer, his focus entirely on the screen. “By the way,” he said softly, “I’m glad Minhyuk showed up, but I’ve got to admit, it’s a little suspicious.”

You chuckled under your breath, keeping your eyes on the screen. “Suspicious? Or are we just not used to seeing him do actual work?”

“Probably both,” Yongha replied, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Still, I’ll take what I can get.”

You hummed in response, working on adjusting the calibration.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, glancing at you as you adjusted the monitor. “How is it that you’re so good at this? Makes the rest of us look bad.”

You shot him a look, half-amused, half-skeptical. “Flattery won’t get you out of work, Yongha.”

He grinned, leaning just slightly into your space as if to check the monitor, though there wasn’t really a need. “Who says I’m trying to get out of work? I love being here. Or… maybe I just like watching you work.”

You paused, fingers hovering over the controls, your brain scrambling to process his words. Was he being serious, or was this just Yongha’s way of lightening the mood?

“Uh-huh,” you said, trying to sound unaffected. “Maybe you should focus on not breaking anything.”

He chuckled, his voice low enough to make your stomach flip. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare ruin your work.”

You smile, quickly shaking his words off, choosing to focus on the calibration instead of the sudden shift in his tone. It wasn’t the first time Yongha had been playful, but tonight it felt… different. You were his teammate in a couple of shared classes before and he never really said anything out of the ordinary. Maybe he was more comfortable with you now that you had to work with him for two whole semesters.

Once the calibration was complete, you stepped back. “Numbers look good. We’re ready for the test.”

“Nice work, as always,” he said, his voice softer now, almost private despite the others being in the room.

“Thanks,” you replied, not quite meeting his eyes. You could feel his gaze lingering, and it sent a weird feeling in your stomach. Not butterflies, no, but uneasiness. You hoped he was just being friendly today.

Jina and Minhyuk joined you at the bench, their chatter breaking the moment.

“Calibration’s done?” Jina asked.

“Yep,” you said, grateful for the distraction. “Let’s run the test.”

As the prototype whirred to life, everyone fell into their roles. Yongha stayed close by your side, occasionally brushing past you to adjust something. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable—except you noticed.

When the results appeared on the monitor, a wave of relief washed over the team.

“Detection’s on point,” Jina announced, her excitement evident. “We’re exactly where we need to be.”

“Finally,” Yongha said, glancing at you with a smile. “I’d say that calls for a small celebration.”

Minhyuk laughed. “If by celebration, you mean heading home to sleep, I’m all in.”

The group chuckled, and Jina clapped her hands together. “Let’s call it a night. We can fine-tune everything tomorrow.”

As you packed up, Yongha lingered nearby, helping you put away the equipment.

“Good work tonight,” he said, his tone softer now that the others were preoccupied.

“You too,” you replied, trying to keep things casual.

He hesitated for a moment, then added, “I’m glad we’re on the same team. Makes the late nights easier.”

Your breath caught, and you gave him a small smile, unsure how to respond without reading too much into his words.

“See you tomorrow, Yongha,” you said instead, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“See you, Y/N,” he replied, his eyes lingering on you as you walked out the door.

As you stepped into the cool night air, your mind raced. Was Yongha just being friendly, or was there something more to his words and lingering glances? You shook your head, brushing the thought aside. You didn’t have time to overthink this—not with everything else on your plate.

Your feet faltered when you noticed a familiar figure leaning casually against his car parked at the curb.

“Wooyoung?” you muttered, blinking in surprise, wondering what he was doing here. Was he waiting for you?

He straightened up as soon as he saw you, a grin spreading across his face while you walked up to him. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, his voice warm and teasing. “How was your—”

“Y/N!”

The sound of Yongha’s voice made you turn, catching sight of him jogging toward you, a blue notebook in his hand.

Wooyoung immediately stood taller, his expression sharpening as his eyes landed on Yongha. You didn’t miss the way his posture shifted, suddenly alert.

“I forgot to give this to you,” Yongha said, stopping in front of you and holding out the notebook. “It’ll help with your part of the write-up for the paper. I made the notes… especially for you.” His tone was light, but there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His gaze flicked briefly to Wooyoung, and you felt the tension between them before a single word was exchanged.

“Oh, um, thanks,” you said, accepting the notebook. You glanced between the two of them, the air growing heavier by the second. “You two know each other?”

“No,” Wooyoung replied coldly, his voice a stark contrast to the easy warmth he’d shown earlier.

Yongha chuckled, tilting his head slightly as if sizing him up. “Oh, but I believe I’ve seen you around. Jung Wooyoung, am I right?”

His cocky tone made Wooyoung’s jaw tighten, and you quickly stepped in. “Uh, Yongha, thanks again for the notes.”

Yongha didn’t move, his smirk deepening as he looked at you, though his eyes softened which Wooyoung immediately noticed. “How are you heading home, Y/N? I drove here, so I can drop you back if you’d like.”

Before you could even open your mouth, Wooyoung let out a low, dark chuckle that made your stomach flip. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with an unmistakable edge. He stepped closer, positioning himself between you and Yongha. “I’m here to take my girl home. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

The words hung in the air, thick with unspoken challenge. You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden tension crackling in the air and the way Wooyoung claimed you as his. Yongha’s smirk widened, clearly relishing the moment, while Wooyoung’s jaw tightened, his stance growing more assertive.

“Your girl?” Yongha repeated, his tone dripping with feigned innocence. He crossed his arms, the smirk never leaving his face. “Interesting. I don’t think she mentioned that during our late-night lab sessions.”

Wooyoung took a step forward, his posture calm but his eyes sharp. “Funny. I don’t think she mentioned you at all,” he shot back smoothly, his voice steady but tinged with a dangerous edge.

Your eyes darted between the two of them, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. “Okay, that’s enough,” you said firmly, stepping between them before things could escalate.

Yongha held up his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Y/N. I’m just making sure you’re taken care of.” His gaze flicked to Wooyoung one last time, his smirk fading into something more serious. “Guess I’ll see you in our lab tomorrow.”

He gave you a final glance before turning and walking away, leaving the tension thick in the air.

Once he was out of sight, you exhaled, running a hand through your hair. “What the fuck was that, Woo?”

Wooyoung turned to you, his expression softening slightly, though the irritation lingered in his eyes. “I could ask you the same thing, Y/N. What’s with him?”

“He’s just a teammate,” you said quickly. “We work together. That’s it. I’ve literally told you this before”

Wooyoung’s gaze didn’t waver. “He doesn’t look at you like it’s just it.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Woo, you can’t just show up out of nowhere, act territorial, and pick a fight with someone you don’t even know.”

He stepped closer, his voice lowering. “I wasn’t picking a fight. I just don’t like the way he talks to you.”

You tilted your head, giving him a pointed look. “And why do you care so much? We’re not—” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Dating, you wanted to say. And he knew that all too well.

His eyes searched yours, his expression unreadable. “Because I do,” he said simply.

The weight of his words hung between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Finally, he let out a small sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Come on. Let me take you home.”

You hesitated but nodded, knowing it wasn’t the time to push the conversation further. As you got into his car, you couldn’t help but glance back toward the building, wondering what Yongha’s smirk and Wooyoung’s reaction really meant.

The silence in the car was deafening, broken only by the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of your jacket as you adjusted uncomfortably in your seat. Wooyoung’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles faintly white under the dim glow of the dashboard lights. You wanted to say something, to break the heavy quiet between you, but every time you opened your mouth, the words died in your throat.

When he finally pulled into the parking lot of your apartment, he parked in one of the guest spots and pressed the button to turn the engine off. Neither of you moved right away.

You sighed. “Woo, we need to talk about—”

He unbuckled his seatbelt abruptly, the click echoing in the confined space, and turned toward you. Before you could say anything more, he leaned over, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was intense, urgent, as if he’d been holding back all night and couldn’t anymore. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as he poured everything into the way his lips moved against yours. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t hesitate to respond, your hands gripping his red hoodie as if to ground yourself.

His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss, and you felt the heat radiating off him as his body leaned closer. The world outside the car faded, leaving only the sound of your quickened breaths and the electricity buzzing between you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths uneven. “I couldn’t wait,” he admitted, his voice low and gravelly.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding against your ribcage. “I can tell.”

A small, almost sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but the fire in his eyes remained. “He gets under my skin,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “The way he talks to you, the way he looks at you—”

“Woo,” you interrupted gently, your voice soft but firm. “It doesn’t matter. He’s just a teammate.”

He studied you for a moment, his gaze searching, before nodding slightly. “I know, and I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier. But I just… I needed him to know you’re mine.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and though a part of you wanted to protest the possessiveness, another part couldn’t deny the thrill it gave you.

You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his again in a softer, lingering kiss. “Do you want to come inside?” you whispered against his mouth.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Lead the way, beautiful.”

-x-x-x-

Chaerin’s living room was cozy as always, with its mismatched throw pillows and faint scent of vanilla candles. You were curled up on the couch, nursing a cup of hot cocoa while Siya sprawled out dramatically on the rug. Chaerin sat cross-legged in her oversized armchair, scrolling aimlessly on her phone.

“So,” Siya began, her tone teasing and suspiciously triumphant. “Guess who got a ride home from Song Mingi last night?”

You and Chaerin turned to her at the same time. “No way,” Chaerin gasped, leaning forward.

“Details,” you demanded, pointing at her with mock seriousness.

Siya grinned wickedly, clearly enjoying the attention. “Well, we were at the business club event, right? We got all chatty and flirty and he offered to drive me home after. You know, all polite and gentlemanly.”

“Uh-huh,” Chaerin interrupted, narrowing her eyes. “Cut to the good part.”

Siya pretended to think for a moment, then shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Fine. We started talking about music on the way back, and I wanted ice cream, so he took me to this place up the hill. He parked at a viewpoint, and we were sitting in the truck of his car. Next thing I know, we’re making out.”

“Making out?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Siya’s grin widened. “Okay, fine. He fucked me in his car.”

Chaerin clapped a hand over her mouth in shock. “You didn’t!”

“Oh, I did,” Siya said smugly, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “And let me tell you, Mingi is not shy once he’s into it.”

“Girl!” Chaerin exclaimed, half-scandalized, half-impressed. “In public?! In his car?”

“Well, I mean it was pretty late and there were no cars around and the area was dark too. No clothes were taken off though, ugh. He lifted my dress and pushed my thong aside. He’s got a big dick though as I expected.”

You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “Okay, Siya wins this week’s tea spill, hands down.”

“Obviously,” Siya said with a wink. Then, her gaze flicked to you. “Speaking of tea, what’s going on with you? Anything juicy?”

You hesitated, your mind flashing back to last night: the tense encounter with Yongha and Wooyoung, followed by the way Wooyoung has kissed you in the parking lot.

“Y/N,” Chaerin prodded, leaning forward, sensing you did, in fact, have something to share. “Don’t make me beg.”

You sighed, setting your mug down. “Okay, fine. Something kind of… weird happened yesterday.”

Both girls straightened up immediately, their attention locked on you, a look of concern evident on their faces.

“So, I was leaving my lab, right? And guess who’s waiting outside for me—Wooyoung.”

“Wait, Wooyoung?” Chaerin interrupted, her eyebrows shooting up. “Since when does he wait for you?”

“Exactly,” you said, gesturing for emphasis. “It totally caught me off guard. But before I could even process it, Yongha called out to me.”

“Oh no,” Siya groaned, already sensing drama.

“Oh yes,” you said with a nod. “He came up to give me some notes for our project, but he was being all… flirty about it.”

“Flirty how?” Chaerin asked, narrowing her eyes.

You rolled your eyes. “You know, the usual. Saying he made the notes especially for me, smirking like he’s the king of the world.”

Siya whistled low. “Bold move. What did Wooyoung do?”

“That’s the best part,” you said, your lips twitching into a smile despite yourself. “He just steps in, all dark and broody, and says, ‘That won’t be necessary. I’m here to take my girl home.’”

Both girls gasped, Chaerin practically sliding out of her chair. “He didn’t!”

“Oh, he did,” you confirmed.

“That’s… kind of hot,” Siya admitted, fanning herself dramatically.

Chaerin leaned forward, her eyes wide. “And? What happened next?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Honestly, I was worried they might start a physical fight. But Yongha backed off, and Wooyoung drove me home. End of story.”

“Yeah, right,” Chaerin said, crossing her arms. “We know you. There’s no way that was the end of it.”

You hesitated for a split second too long, and the knowing look they both gave you made your cheeks heat up.

“Spill,” they said in unison.

“I mean… he got kinda possessive and kissed me in his car. We had sex and he stayed the night again,” you said, your cheeks heating up and both the girls squealed loudly.

You leaned back into the couch, feeling the weight of your thoughts as you looked between Chaerin and Siya, trying to explain the unease you were feeling. “But girls… Something’s off,” you said, your voice quieter now, more serious. “It’s like... I don’t know how to put it, but everything’s been weird lately.”

Siya tilted her head, intrigued. “What do you mean ‘weird’?”

“Okay, so the other day, Yeosang and San were acting super weird when I introduced them to Yongha,” you started, rubbing the back of your neck. “I’ve never seen them act that way before. It was as if they knew him—like, knew him well—but they didn’t acknowledge it.” You leaned forward, your eyes scanning their faces for understanding. “And then Wooyoung? He... his reaction was weird too. It felt like he was trying to hide something, like he didn’t want me to get involved with Yongha.”

Chaerin raised an eyebrow. “Wait, so you think Wooyoung and the others know each other? Like, they’ve all met before?”

You nodded slowly, the confusion in your mind spilling out. “Yes! It’s like there’s some secret, and no one’s telling me. I mean, Yeosang and San were cold, but they were still polite. And then there was the way Wooyoung... I don’t know, he just shut down when I mentioned Yongha. Like, something snapped in him. I thought it was weird, but I didn’t want to push him.”

Siya’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, but that’s suspicious. Why wouldn’t they just tell you if they knew each other? It seems like they’re hiding something.”

“I don’t know. It’s like a weird tension between them,” you said, exhaling a frustrated breath. “And I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of something I don’t understand. It’s all so strange.”

Chaerin gave you a reassuring look. “Well, you’re right about one thing: something is definitely going on. They’re all acting like they’re trying to keep their distance from each other, but it’s clear that there’s history.” She tapped her chin, thinking. “But what if this is more than just them being weird around you? Maybe there’s something deeper there. Something... they don’t want you to know about.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I want to trust them, especially Wooyoung, but it’s hard when everyone’s acting like there’s something I’m not supposed to know. I’m caught in the middle of this... thing, and it’s driving me crazy. I have to work with Yongha for a couple more months until we graduate, so I really don’t want to be in this weird situation.”

Siya pursed her lips, her eyes glinting with curiosity. “If something’s off, there’s a reason for it. If Wooyoung’s keeping something from you, or if he’s acting shady, you need to find out what it is.”

Chaerin nodded in agreement, looking at you seriously. “But don’t stress yourself out. If you want to get to the bottom of this, you have to stay calm. Don’t let them pull you into something you don’t want to be part of.”

“I know,” you said softly, but the knot in your stomach remained. “It’s just... I’m starting to feel like I’m missing something big, and I’m not sure if I want to know what it is.” You looked at your friends, the weight of it all sinking in. “But I also feel like I don’t have a choice but to find out. How I will do that, I do not know… yet.”

After hanging out with the girls for a while, you decided to head to your lab instead of going home despite it being nearly 8PM. You weren’t expecting anyone else to be here so late, but as you turned the corner, you spotted Yongha, seated at one of the workbenches. His head was bent over a stack of papers, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” you said, setting your bag down on the table across from him.

Yongha looked up, startled, but quickly composed himself. “Oh, hey. I could say the same to you.”

“I’ve completed my work for the day,” you admitted. “Figured I’d get a head start on next week’s data.”

He nodded, setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair. For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then he spoke, his tone softer than usual. “About last night... I wanted to apologize.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Apologize?”

“For the way I acted. Outside the lab, with Jung Wooyoung.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “It was out of character for me, and it definitely wasn’t fair to you. I guess I just... lost my cool a bit.”

You tilted your head, studying him. Yongha wasn’t one to show vulnerability often, and the sincerity in his voice threw you off. “It’s fine,” you said slowly. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure what was going on, but... it’s not a big deal.”

Yongha gave a small, humorless laugh. “Maybe not to you. But to me...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

You frowned, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. “Yongha, if there’s something bothering you, just say it.”

He hesitated again, then leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw some sort of worry flash through them. “It’s just... Are you two… you know…” He let the question hang in the air, his meaning clear.

You felt your face heat up. Honestly, you didn’t know what to say since Wooyoung preferred to keep his… situation with you strictly between his friends and yours. “Uh, we’re not dating, if that’s what you’re asking,” you said quickly, though the words felt awkward on your tongue. “Why?”

Yongha’s lips quirked into a small, almost wistful smile. “No reason. I was just curious.” He leaned back again, crossing his arms. “He’s protective of you. I noticed that much.”

You shifted in your seat, unsure how to respond. “Wooyoung’s just... like that. He looks out for the people he cares about.”

“Hmm.” Yongha’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked away, grabbing his pen and pretending to focus on his notes. “Well, I’ll leave it at that. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Right,” you said, suddenly feeling the need to busy yourself with something. You pulled out your laptop and started typing, but your mind was racing.

You had your messages linked to your laptop, and a notification popped up from Wooyoung.

Woo: Are you home yet?

You: I’m at the lab

Woo: Oh. With Lee Yongha?

You: Yeah, he is here. Why?

Woo: No reason. I’m sure you’re having a great time.

You stared at the message on your laptop, the tone unmistakably sarcastic. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your stomach twisting. What was his problem?

You: What’s that supposed to mean?

The typing indicator popped up immediately, and then his response came through like a slap.

Woo: Nothing. Just seems like he’s got everything handled. Don’t let me interrupt your night.

You let out a sharp exhale, your jaw tightening as you reread the message. The passive-aggressive tone wasn’t like him—or maybe it was, but it was usually cloaked in humor. This wasn’t funny.

“Everything okay?”

Yongha’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see him watching you, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. He had his hands tucked casually in his pockets, but there was an edge to his expression, like he was waiting for an opening.

“Yeah, all is well,” you muttered, locking your laptop.

Yongha tilted his head, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Ah. Trouble in paradise?”

“There’s no paradise,” you shot back, your tone sharper than you intended. “And definitely no trouble.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, his smirk widening. “He seems pretty bothered, though. Can’t imagine why.”

You glared at him, feeling your frustration bubbling over, mentally reminding yourself not to open your texting app on your laptop while he’s around again. “Why are you so interested?”

He shrugged, his gaze steady. “Just curious. He’s not usually the kind of guy who loses his cool. But then again...” He paused, stepping closer, his voice dropping slightly. “I can see why he might.”

You froze under the weight of his words, your heartbeat quickening. Was that a compliment? A challenge? You couldn’t tell, and it only made the tension in the room worse. The fact that he mentioned that Wooyoung wasn’t the type to lose his cool was enough to confirm your suspicion that they, in fact, knew each other and were pretending otherwise.

“Don’t,” you said, your voice quieter now, but firm.

Yongha stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. Just making an observation.”

You didn’t respond, turning your focus back to your notes in an attempt to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. After a moment, Yongha grabbed his bag and headed for the door.

“For what it’s worth,” he said, pausing in the doorway, “I don’t think he’s mad at you. He’s mad at me.”

Before you could ask what he meant, the door swung shut behind him.

You stared at the closed door, your thoughts spinning. What did Yongha mean?

When you glanced back at your laptop, the last message from Wooyoung still sat there, burning into your mind.

No matter how much you wanted to ignore it, you knew you currently were caught in the middle of it all. You decided to push your thoughts away for now while you walked back home.

When you got to the hallway outside your apartment, you spotted Wooyoung waiting, leaning against your door. He was dressed in business casual attire today and you knew he came straight from work. His arms were crossed, but his posture was stiff, his expression unreadable.

You sighed as you approached him. “Woo?”

“Just wanted to talk,” he said casually, but there was an edge to his voice.

You unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaving it open for him to follow. He did, shutting it behind him, the click echoing in the silence.

Dropping your bag on the couch, you turned to face him. “Okay… talk.”

He didn’t respond immediately, his eyes fixed on the floor before meeting yours. “What’s going on with you and Yongha?”

You blinked, thrown by the question. “Seriously? We’ve been over this, Wooyoung. He’s my teammate. Nothing is going on.”

He scoffed, his jaw tightening. “You say that, but it’s like every time I turn around, you’re with him. At the lab, at the café...” Of course, Yeosang and San would tell him about the café. You were surprised he’s only bringing it up now when he clearly has an issue.

“Of course, I’m with him!” you shot back, exasperated. “We’re working on a project together. A project that will take a whole academic year. You knew this from the beginning!”

“And he’s making it more than that,” Wooyoung snapped, stepping closer. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Y/N. Don’t tell me you’re blind to it.”

“And what if I’m not?” you countered, your voice rising slightly. “Why does it matter to you? You’ve made it pretty damn clear we’re not together, so why do you care so much?”

He flinched at your words but recovered quickly, his frustration mounting. “You know why I care!”

“No, I don’t!” you said, the emotion bubbling over. “Because you keep dancing around it, Woo. You act like I belong to you, but you’re the one who set the rules. You’re the one who doesn’t want this to be anything more than... whatever this is!”

He stared at you, his chest rising and falling as he processed your words. “You think I don’t want more?” he finally said, his voice low but heated.

“Then why aren’t we dating?” you demanded, your voice cracking, though you’re the butterflies in your stomach were fluttering around in a rapid pace. “Why are we stuck in this limbo? If you care so much, if you want me the way you act like you do, then why won’t you just say it?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “It’s not that simple, Y/N.”

“It is that simple!” you fired back. “You’re just too much of a coward to admit what you want. Or maybe you don’t know what you want at all.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his tone dropping to a whisper.

“No, what’s not fair is you showing up at my door, acting possessive, and then refusing to give me anything real,” you said, your voice trembling. “You can’t keep doing this to me, Woo.”

“You agreed to be with me like this, Y/N,” he muttered, taking slow steps towards you before resting his forehead against yours. The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Wooyoung pulled away after a moment to look at you, his eyes softening slightly, but the anger was still there. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill. “Then stop. Stop confusing me. Stop... God, Woo, I know there’s some history between you and Yongha and you won’t come clean to me about it. You’re all acting like you don’t know each other and it’s tiring me out. Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

He didn’t move, his gaze locked on yours. “I can’t, Y/N.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted, his voice raw. “But I don’t know how to... I don’t know how to… I would rather you not know. I don’t know what to do.”

His confession hung in the air, heavy and unsteady. You swallowed hard, your emotions swirling. “Then figure it out, Wooyoung,” you said softly. “Because I don’t want to be caught in this. I do not know what’s going on. I have to work with him for couple more months. Please… don’t make things difficult for me.”

You turned away, leaving him standing there in the middle of your apartment, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

“Y/N,” he called after you, his voice desperate, but you didn’t stop.

“Lock the door on your way out,” you said, disappearing into your bedroom, shutting the door.

And with that, the conversation was over, but the unresolved tension lingered, a storm waiting to break.

-x-x-x-

You didn’t hang out with Wooyoung over the weekend like you usually do. For the first time in months, you found yourself with nothing but your own company and an endless list of tasks you had no desire to complete. You went to work, cleaned your apartment twice, even reorganized your closet, and attempted to binge-watch a show, but your mind refused to focus. Every time your phone buzzed, you checked it instinctively, but it was never him.

By Sunday afternoon, you gave up pretending you didn’t care and texted Chaerin instead.

You: Free? I need to get out of this apartment

Chaerin: Always free for you babe. Lunch at the kimbap place near campus?

You: Sounds good, see you in 30

You arrived at the small restaurant, spotting Chaerin instantly. She waved you over, already halfway through an iced tea. “You look exhausted.”

You sighed, sliding into the seat across from her. “I am.”

She arched an eyebrow. “This is about Wooyoung, isn’t it?”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“I mean, what else can it be when you look like this?” she said, sipping her drink. “So, what happened?”

You told her about the argument, the frustration bubbling back to the surface as you recounted every word. Chaerin listened attentively, her expression growing more serious as you went on.

“And then he said he didn’t want to lose me,” you finished, slumping back in your chair. “But he still couldn’t give me a real answer. He said he doesn’t want me to know what’s up with him and Yongha, and he said he doesn’t know what to do. So I told him to figure it out.”

Chaerin shook her head. “Wow, that boy is a mess.”

“I know,” you said, exasperated. “But I feel like I’m losing my mind. I keep thinking maybe I was too harsh, or maybe I should’ve pushed him more—”

“No,” she interrupted firmly. “You said what you needed to say, Y/N. He’s the one who needs to get his act together.”

You nodded, though her words did little to ease the ache in your chest.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked, leaning forward.

“The plan?”

“Yeah,” Chaerin said. “Are you going to wait for him to figure it out, or are you moving on?”

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. The truth was you had feelings for him. You were in love with him. You wanted things to work out.

“I guess I’ll see what he does,” you said finally. “But I’m not putting my life on hold for him.”

“That’s my girl,” Chaerin said, raising her iced tea in a toast. You smiled faintly, but the knot in your stomach remained.

After lunch, you took the bus to Jina’s apartment to work with your team on one of the project reports. Jina lived in the same building as Wooyoung, and you couldn’t help yourself from wondering if he was home right now and if you should go to his place after. A part of you wondered if that was a terrible idea, considering the fact that he hasn’t texted you at all since the argument.

When you reached the lobby of the building, you noticed Yongha had just arrived too. You greeted him while waiting for the elevator. “Hey, you’re here a lot earlier,” you said, remembering that he said he would be an hour late on the group chat.

“I got off my shift early,” he replied with a grin. “Did you see the graphs on the report? If Minhyuk mixes up the axes on one more graph, I might just lose it. I swear he’s trying to set a record for how fast he can make me question humanity.”

You laughed, a genuine belly laugh that echoed through the quiet lobby as you both stopped in front of the elevator. “It’s the way he does it so confidently that kills me,” you said between giggles. “Like, ‘Oh yeah, that Y-axis? Totally accurate.’”

Yongha joined in, chuckling softly. “At least it keeps things interesting. Who needs peace of mind when you can have chaos?”

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open—and your laughter abruptly died when you saw who was standing inside.

Wooyoung.

He was leaning casually against the elevator wall, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. His sharp eyes immediately landed on you and Yongha and his casual demeanor shifted ever so slightly, tension creeping into his stance.

“Y/N,” Wooyoung greeted, his voice calm but unmistakably cool.

You blinked in surprise. “Wooyoung?” Why haven’t you texted me at all, you wanted to ask, but remembered Yongha was here too.

“Hey,” Yongha chimed in, stepping into the elevator with you, his confidence undeterred. “Didn’t know we’d get the pleasure of running into you here.”

Wooyoung’s lips twitched into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Life’s full of surprises.”

As the elevator began its ascent, Yongha leaned slightly toward you, his head tilting as his eyes zeroed in on your hair.

“Hold still,” he said softly.

“What?” you asked, confused, glancing at him as Wooyoung’s gaze sharpened.

Yongha reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your temple as he plucked something from your hair. His movements were deliberate, almost slow, as if savoring the moment.

“There was a leaf stuck,” Yongha explained with a small grin, holding it up for you to see.

“Oh,” you said and smoothed your hair reflexively. “Thanks.”

Wooyoung, who had been watching the exchange with a darkening expression, shifted his weight slightly, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

“A leaf, huh?” Wooyoung said, his voice low and edged with sarcasm. “Good thing you were here to save the day.”

Yongha chuckled, clearly amused by the tension. “What can I say? I’m observant.”

The elevator dinged, signaling your floor, and you stepped out quickly, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere. Before the doors closed, you turned back to Wooyoung, who hadn’t moved from his spot. His dark eyes met yours, a storm brewing in his expression that sent an uneasy shiver down your spine.

“See you around,” he said, his tone clipped. The doors shut, and you exhaled slowly, the knot in your stomach tightening as you walked toward Jina’s apartment.

Yongha, however, seemed completely unaffected, his usual easygoing grin still in place. “That guy has quite the glare,” he commented casually.

You shot him a look, but he only laughed.

“Let’s just get to work,” you muttered, though your thoughts were already tangled in the intensity of Wooyoung’s gaze—and the unspoken tension that seemed to grow heavier with every passing moment.

-x-x-x-

5 days later

It was a typical Friday night, and you were more than ready to unwind. Chaerin, Siya, another friend named Maya, and you had decided to head to your favorite bar for a much-needed girls’ night. The music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the energy was just the kind of distraction you needed from the stress of school and all the drama. Wooyoung had ignored your messages, and you honestly did not know what to do anymore. For now, you decided to focus on girls’ night.

Chaerin laughed as she raised her glass to make a toast. “To surviving the week and pretending we have it all together!”

Siya clinked her glass against yours. “To good times and great friends!”

You joined in with a grin, feeling the weight of the week start to lift as the alcohol started to take effect. You weren’t sure how much you’d had already, but you were definitely starting to feel more relaxed. You weren’t a lightweight drinker and sobered up pretty quick too. Sometimes, you hated it.

The night continued with music, laughter, and the comfortable camaraderie you’d come to expect with Chaerin, Siya, and Maya. You were enjoying yourself, letting go of the stress for a while—until you noticed a familiar face entering the bar.

San.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t unusual for people from your university to end up here. But then came Mingi, Yeosang, and Yunho, and finally, Wooyoung.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and for a moment, everything seemed to slow down. You hadn’t expected to run into him here tonight, especially not after everything that had happened the past week. You tried to look away, but your gaze was drawn back to him again.

“Y/N?” Chaerin called out before following your gaze. “Oh… Fuck, he looks so hot!”

“Who?” Maya asked following her gaze. “Oh Kang Yeosang? I agree.”

“I meant Choi San,” Chaerin said with a chuckle. “But well… I suppose all the men of their group are quite the eye candy.”

“And so are we!” Siya squeaks out, her face flushed pink from the alcohol. “Look at us, girls! We’re so sexy! We’re so stunning! We’re so smart! We’re so beautiful!” The three of you laughed at drunk Siya’s words, and you patted her head affectionately. “Hey! Could I get a chocolate martini?!” she called for the bartender.

“I’ll have one too, thank you,” you told the bartender who nodded and headed off to make your drinks. You decided not to turn back and look at Wooyoung, not wanting to ruin your night by feeling sad over the fact that he chose to ignore you.

But moments later after having yet another drink, you turned back to see where he was. You caught sight of the booth where the rest of the guys were, but Wooyoung wasn’t there. Your eyes scanned the area, trying to find him, but struggling due to the flashing-colored lights.

And then you saw him standing against a pillar… with a girl. She was leaning so close to him and from the angle where you were at, it appeared that she could be… kissing his neck? You watched them more carefully. It seemed like they were just talking.

“Uh oh. Double trouble,” Chaerin announced, catching your attention.

Before you could ask her what she meant, you heard someone call out your name. “Y/N!”

You turned toward the source of the voice, your heart already sinking. Standing a few feet away, wearing his usual confident smirk, was Yongha. Flanking him were his two friends, Jaehyun and Taemoo who you’d briefly met once when they were waiting for Yongha outside one of your shared classes.

“Yongha?” you blurted.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he said, stepping closer with that familiar air of nonchalance. His eyes, however, scanned your face like he was trying to read your mood.

Jaehyun and Taemoo greeted your friends with easy smiles, and soon enough, introductions were exchanged. Chaerin immediately latched onto Jaehyun’s arm, chatting him up like they were old friends, but she was just sociable like that. Siya, meanwhile, was too occupied with her martini to pay much attention, but Maya caught Taemoo’s attention after recognizing that they were in the same major.

“Jung Wooyoung’s back with his ex again?” You heard Taemoo say to Jaehyun, causing the girls to glance at you. You didn’t react, though your stomach dropped. So that girl was his ex?

“Are you surprised?” Jaehyun said with a laugh. “Dude should move on. I can’t imagine running to the same girl that cheated on me thrice.”

You immediately glanced at Chaerin who looked at you. Wooyoung was cheated on thrice? If that’s true then why is he talking to his ex again?

Yongha kept his focus on you. “You okay?” he asked softly, his voice low enough that only you could hear, but still loud as the music was blasting.

You hesitated. It was clear he’d caught onto your distracted state, but you weren’t about to spill your emotions in the middle of a bar. “I’m fine,” you replied, forcing a small smile.

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he didn’t believe you, but he let it go. “Well, let me know if you need anything,” he said, leaning in just enough to make the gesture feel intimate.

Before you could respond, Chaerin called out, “Y/N, you have to come dance with us!”

You glanced back at Yongha, who gave you an easy shrug. “Go. Have fun.”

You allowed Chaerin to pull you toward the dance floor, but as you moved with the beat of the music with the girls, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in your chest. You tried to focus on the rhythm, the lights, the energy of the crowd, but your eyes kept drifting back to that pillar where Wooyoung had been.

He wasn’t there anymore. Neither was his ex.

Frustration and something sharper—jealousy, maybe—pricked at your thoughts. Was this really what you were to him? Someone he could ignore all week and then end up with another girl, his ex of all people, at the club?

Chaerin pulled you closer to her. “Can you come with me to the bathroom?” You nodded, letting Maya and Siya know you were headed there before Chaerin dragged you along. You waited in line, grateful that it was moving faster than you’d expected. Once you and Chaerin used the bathroom and washed your hands, she took a picture of both of you at the mirror.

“Let’s go take a shot before we hit the dancefloor again. Be a bad bitch, Y/N, come on,” she said, making you raise an eyebrow. “Wooyoung noticed you. I saw him looking at you and Yongha.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he probably thinks I’m here with Yongha. But… I can’t believe he was with his ex.”

Chaerin chuckled. “Well… take advantage of that. Make him jealous and he’s gonna come crawling to you. Besides, I saw that girl leave, so I take it that maybe she was trying to go after him again.”

You sighed, leaning against the bathroom wall for a moment, though Chaerin’s last sentence relieved you. “I don’t know if I want to play those games, Chaerin. He’s been ignoring me all week. What if it doesn’t even work? What if he doesn’t care?”

Chaerin gave you a pointed look as she fixed her lipstick in the mirror. “Oh, he cares. The way he was staring? Trust me, he cares, and let me tell you girl, that man has always had feelings for you. He just doesn’t want to admit it yet.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you hoped she was right. “Still. This whole thing feels... exhausting. I don’t know if I have it in me tonight.”

Chaerin put her hands on your shoulders and spun you to face her. “Y/N, look at me. You’re hot. You’re smart. You’re fun. If Wooyoung can’t see that, then screw him. But trust me, he does see it. And if making him sweat a little gets him to step up, why not? Worst case, you have a good time, take some shots, and enjoy yourself with your girls.”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself. “You always know how to hype me up.”

“Damn right I do,” she said with a grin. “Now come on, let’s grab that shot and show everyone—including Wooyoung—how bad bitches have fun.”

With renewed energy, you followed her out of the bathroom and back to the bar. Chaerin ordered two tequila shots, handing one to you with a wink. “To being the main character,” she said, raising her glass.

You clinked your shot glass against hers, downed the tequila in one go, and let the burn energize you.

As the two of you made your way back to the dance floor, you couldn’t help but glance around the bar. Your eyes automatically sought him out—and there he was. Wooyoung was back at the booth with the rest of his group, but his focus wasn’t on his friends.

It was on you.

You felt Chaerin nudge your arm. “Told you,” she whispered before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the crowd of people dancing.

The music pulsed around you, and for the first time that night, you allowed yourself to let go, swaying to the rhythm and matching Chaerin’s energy. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yongha and his friends near the bar, watching you with amused smiles.

And somewhere in the mix of lights, music, and glances, you realized Chaerin might’ve been right. Maybe it was time to make Wooyoung sweat.

Yongha was making his way toward you, the smoothness of his steps betraying his drunk state. His friends remained at the bar, chatting amongst themselves, but Yongha was solely focused on you.

Chaerin grinned, noticing his attention on you. “Looks like someone’s got their eyes on you,” she teased, nudging you playfully. “Let loose, my girl. Be the bad bitch you are. Show Wooyoung what he’s missing!”

You laughed loudly, running a hand through your hair while you danced to a remixed upbeat song that had the whole dance floor moving.

"Mind if I join you?" Yongha asked, his voice slightly slurred but still carrying that flirty edge that made you think he wasn’t exactly sober.

You raised an eyebrow, but with a playful smirk, you stepped closer to him, the music pumping louder as it filled the space between you two. "I suppose so." You were playing a dangerous game, but you had too much to drink and at this point, you did not give a fuck.

Yongha didn’t waste any time. His hands found your waist with a confidence that almost made you forget the tension earlier in the night. You let him guide your movements as the music shifted into a new song that had the crowd cheering, his grip firm yet gentle. You could feel the heat from his palms on the exposed skin of your waist. As you both moved together, his eyes never left yours. He pulled you in closer as you swayed together, and you were reminded of the way you had danced in this very club with Wooyoung before.

But amidst the heat of the moment, your eyes flicked to the side, catching sight of Wooyoung. He was standing in the same spot near the booth with his friends, his arms crossed over his chest, his posture tense. The slight furrow of his brows was all you needed to see to know he wasn’t happy. However, San looked incredibly amused and he leaned in to whisper something in Wooyoung’s ear.

Something shifted inside you, the cocktail of emotions from earlier mixing with the alcohol buzzing through your veins. You knew it was very petty, but in this moment, you didn’t care. You weren't about to let him have all the control over this situation. You weren’t going to be the one left wondering what could have been, while he played his little games.

Without breaking eye contact with Wooyoung, you dropped it down low, your body moving in sync with the rhythm of the music, your movements slow and deliberate as you bent at the waist, inching down to the floor. The look in Wooyoung’s eyes shifted immediately—surprise, anger, maybe even a flash of jealousy—but you didn’t look away.

Yongha’s hands gripped your hips, guiding you back up, and as you stood upright, you let your back press against his chest for a brief moment. The heat of his body against yours, combined with the thrill of making Wooyoung watch, sent a surge of adrenaline through you.

You let your gaze hold Wooyoung’s for just a few seconds longer before you finally broke away, returning your attention to Yongha, who was still grinning at you, clearly enjoying the game that was unfolding.

Wooyoung, though? He wasn’t smiling. The tight set of his jaw said it all.

As soon as the song finished, you excused yourself. “I’m going to get a drink upstairs,” you let Chaerin know. The club had a mezzanine floor that was a lot less crowded and didn’t have a dance floor.

“Good job out there, babe!” she drunkenly yelled, pulling you into a hug before you pushed through the crowd to make it upstairs.

You moved to where a window was open, and you relaxed when you felt the chill air hit your heated body. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down your racing heartbeat.

When you felt a presence behind you, you turned around, surprised to find that Wooyoung actually followed you upstairs. The white button up shirt he was wearing had most of the buttons unbuttoned, exposing his toned chest.

Wooyoung’s eyes flashed with something dark and unreadable as he stepped closer to you, making you take a step back, your back hitting the wall beside the window. The tension in the air thickened, and you could feel your pulse quicken, though you didn’t want to admit it. He stood inches from you, his presence overwhelming.

“What the hell were you doing with him?” Wooyoung’s voice was low, rough. The irritation, the jealousy, all bubbling to the surface now that he had you cornered. And yet you found it hot.

Hot that he definitely cared about you. Hot that there was a vein popping on the side of his neck from the clear anger he was feeling. Hot that his eyes were scanning your body the same way it does when he wants you.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm despite the fire burning in your chest. “You’ve been ignoring me all week, and now you want to get all possessive?”

His lips curled into a tight smirk, but it was empty, edged with frustration. “I wasn’t ignoring you, Y/N. I was giving you space.” He emphasized the word, his eyes flicking over you. “But it looks like you moved on from me already, huh?”

You chuckled in an unamused tone. “Moved on? I could same the same about you, Wooyoung. Weren’t you chatting up another girl?”

“She means nothing to me,” he said quickly. “I don’t care about her.”

“She’s your ex girlfriend.”

His eyes darkened at the mention of her, and he stiffened, clearly not expecting you to know that much. “Oh, so I guess your precious little Yongha told you about her and I, hmm?”

You felt a sharp sting in your chest at the way Wooyoung said ‘your precious little Yongha.’ The bitterness in his voice, the way it rolled off his tongue, left you with a sour taste in your mouth. You crossed your arms, trying to keep your composure, but your patience was running thin, and the anger was bubbling in your chest. “What, are you jealous now?”

Wooyoung’s jaw clenched, but instead of answering you directly, he took a step closer, reducing the space between you two. “You wanna know why I’m pissed?” His voice was rough, almost a growl. “Because I can’t fucking stand seeing you with other guys. Especially him. Especially anyone who isn’t me.”

You froze, feeling your heartbeat skip. This was the first time he was being this... honest. Vulnerable, almost. But instead of giving you comfort, it made everything feel more complicated. “You’re the one who’s been avoiding me, Wooyoung,” you said, frustration creeping into your tone.

Wooyoung sighed, his eyes darkening as he reached out to touch your arm, his fingers barely brushing your skin. “You think I want this? Think I wanted to let you go all week without talking? You think this is easy for me?”

You were about to respond, but the words got caught in your throat when Wooyoung stepped closer to you. His body was suddenly right in front of yours, invading your personal space, and all you could do was look up into his eyes, the fire in them burning bright. The heat between you two was palpable, thick enough that it made it hard to breathe.

“I’m not blind, Y/N,” he continued, his voice more intense now. “I saw the way you moved with him. You looked good together. Too good.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the possessive edge in his tone, but it only added to the frustration that was now boiling over inside you. You couldn’t help but feel the same anger—anger at yourself for letting him get under your skin, and anger at him for pushing you to this point.

“Stop making this about him,” you spat, stepping closer to him, your body finally reacting to the proximity. You jabbed your finger into his chest. “You’ve been acting like I’m nothing to you, and now suddenly, I’m supposed to be okay with—”

Wooyoung didn’t give you time to finish. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward him, his lips crashing down on yours with an intensity that stole your breath away. For a moment, you froze, but it didn’t take long before you kissed him back, your hands fisting his shirt, pulling him even closer. The kiss was hot, desperate, the frustration and the jealousy all pouring out into this one explosive moment.

He pulled away just long enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something dangerous, something you weren’t sure you could handle—but you didn’t care.

“Tell me you don’t want this, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

You shuddered at the intensity in his words, but you couldn’t deny it. You wanted him. You wanted all of it. “I do,” you breathed out. “I want you, Wooyoung. I only want you.”

A low growl escaped him, and before you could react, he pressed your back against the wall and his lips were back on yours. His hands were on your hips, pulling you into him, grinding against you in a way that made your pulse race.

The heat between you two was undeniable now, a wild, consuming thing that neither of you could fight. The tension, the unresolved anger, and the attraction all mixed together in a way that had your body aching for more.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands moved to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, the friction between you making your head spin. The music in the club faded as you focused on the way Wooyoung kissed you with such urgency, such intensity.

But as much as you wanted this—wanted him—the words were still hanging in the air, thick with meaning.

He pulled away after a moment, setting you back down on your feet, holding you steady. “Why’d you pull away?” you whispered, your hands still tangled in his hair. “Why don’t you just tell me what this is, Wooyoung?”

He stopped for a moment, looking you dead in the eye. “Because I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared of what this means. I don’t know how to make this work between us, but God... I want you.” His voice cracked slightly, but the raw honesty made your heart skip a beat.

Your lips brushed against his again, more gently this time, but still charged with the same intensity. “Then stop overthinking it,” you whispered against his mouth. “Let’s just figure it out.”

“I can’t, Y/N. Not when you’re around him most of the time.” You stared at Wooyoung, his words replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Your chest tightened, frustration flaring in your veins. “What the hell does that mean?” you snapped, shoving him back just enough to create space between you. “Are you seriously blaming me for working with Yongha? For doing what I’m supposed to do for my project?”

“It’s not about the project,” Wooyoung shot back, his voice strained as he ran a hand through his hair. His eyes darted away for a moment before locking onto yours again. “It’s about him, Y/N. I can’t stand seeing you with him. I can’t stand knowing you’re laughing with him, spending time with him—letting him get close to you.”

Your eyes narrowed, the anger bubbling over. “You’re acting like I have a choice, Wooyoung! He’s on my team! What am I supposed to do? Avoid him? Quit my project? Is that what you want?”

“No,” Wooyoung growled, his voice dropping low, his frustration palpable. “I just... I don’t trust him, okay? He’s not who you think he is.”

You froze for a moment, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “And what does that even mean? If you have something to say, then just say it, Wooyoung. Stop dancing around the truth!”

His jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might finally spill whatever he’d been holding back. But instead, he shook his head, his fists clenched at his sides. “You wouldn’t understand,” he muttered.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “You’re unbelievable. Do you know how exhausting this is? You can’t just drop cryptic hints and then expect me to read your mind. I’m not a damn mind reader, Wooyoung!”

“I’m trying to protect you, Y/N,” he snapped, his voice rising. “I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt, but you just don’t see it!”

“Then help me see it!” you shouted back, stepping closer to him. “Tell me why you hate him so much. Tell me why this is such a big deal to you. Or are you just too scared to be honest with me?”

Wooyoung’s eyes burned with frustration, but underneath it, you caught a glimpse of something else—pain, raw and unfiltered. His lips parted, as if he was about to say something, but then he stopped, shaking his head again.

“I can’t,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “You wouldn’t understand. You don’t need to know.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “You can’t even trust me enough to tell me the truth,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “How do you expect this to work, Wooyoung? How can we have anything if you keep shutting me out?”

“It’s not about trust,” he said quickly, his voice desperate now. “It’s about me. About what I can’t deal with. I don’t want to lose you, Y/N. But I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” you pressed, tears threatening to sting your eyes. “Can’t let yourself care about me? Can’t let yourself get close because you’re too scared of what might happen?”

Wooyoung’s silence was deafening, and the look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

“This isn’t fair,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “It’s not fair to me, and it’s not even fair to you. If you can’t trust me, if you can’t let me in, then what’s the point, Wooyoung? What are we even doing?”

His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as he looked away. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice raw. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need.”

You swallowed hard, the ache in your chest almost unbearable. “Then maybe we’re better off letting this go,” you said softly, turning away from him. “If you can’t communicate with me…” you shook your head with a sigh, “then let’s stop whatever this is, Woo. I… I’m done trying.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, hoping—praying—that he’d stop you. That he’d fight for this, for you.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, his head bowed, his silence cutting deeper than any words ever could.

-x-x-x-

Nine days had passed. Nine long, agonizing days since you last spoke to Wooyoung. Since you walked away from him—since he walked away from you.

You tried to keep yourself busy, pouring your energy into school, work, and anything else that could distract you from the gnawing ache in your chest. But no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his words, his silence, his absence.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and you had just finished your shift at the dining hall. Your body ached from the long hours, and the emotional weight you carried didn’t help. You trudged home, trying to focus on mundane tasks to keep the sadness at bay.

In your apartment, you loaded the washer with your laundry, throwing a detergent pod into it when you heard the doorbell ring. Frowning, you quickly start the washer, the sound of the machine filling the silence as you headed to the door. You weren’t expecting anyone, and it was rare for someone to show up unannounced. When you opened the door, you froze.

Wooyoung stood there, looking like a shadow of himself. His hair was disheveled, covering most of his eyes, and his face was pale, his usual sharp features softened by exhaustion. The dark circles under his eyes told you he hadn’t been sleeping.

Before you could say a word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You could smell his usual perfume, and you couldn’t help but take in a deep breath. His body felt heavy against yours, as if he was on the verge of collapse, and the way he clung to you made your heart ache.

“Wooyoung…” you breathed, your voice shaky.

He didn’t respond right away. His head rested against your shoulder, and you felt the uneven rise and fall of his chest as he tried to steady himself.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You swallowed hard, your hands hovering for a moment before you let them rest gently on his back. “What are you doing here?” you asked softly.

“I didn’t know how to face you after everything. I thought if I stayed away, it’d be easier,” he said, his voice barely audible. “But it wasn’t. It only made everything worse.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, his face inches from yours. His eyes were red, like he’d been crying—or fighting not to.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he continued, his hands trembling as they gripped your shoulders. “I just… I didn’t know how to deal with it. With you. With… everything.”

Your heart broke at the sight of him like this, so vulnerable, so raw. But the hurt you’d felt over the past week wasn’t something you could just ignore.

“I was scared,” he continued, his voice cracking. “I’m still scared. But I can’t lose you, Y/N. I can’t.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your breathing and the distant hum of the washing machine.

“What are you scared of?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wooyoung hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Of history repeating itself,” he said finally, his voice trembling. “Of you being around him. Of him… taking you away from me, just like before.”

You felt a pang of confusion mixed with sadness as you pieced together his words. But before you could respond, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Don’t give up on me. Don’t leave me, Y/N.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the rawness of his plea cutting through the ache you’d carried for days. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a shuddering breath before moving slightly away from you, just enough to meet your gaze fully.

“I’m in love with you,” he finally admitted, the vulnerability in his voice making your breath catch. “I want this to work. I’m ready to talk to you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his confession settled in. For a moment, the weight of everything—the silence, the confusion, the pain—seemed to dissolve in the warmth of his words.

“You’re ready?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He nodded, his eyes searching yours. Without a word, he gently took your hand in his, his touch warm but hesitant. He led you to sit on the couch with him, and for a moment, there was only silence as he seemed to gather his thoughts.

Wooyoung exhaled deeply, running a hand through his messy hair. “I don’t even know where to start,” he said, his voice low. “But if I’m going to do this, I need to tell you everything. No more hiding.”

You nodded, your heart pounding.

“When I started college, Yongha and I were roommates,” he began, his tone tinged with nostalgia. “It was a random assignment, but we clicked almost instantly. He was funny, easy to talk to, and we had so much in common. It didn’t take long for us to become best friends. We did everything together—parties, late-night food runs, you name it.”

He paused, looking down at your hand in his, as if drawing strength from your touch.

“At the time, I was dating my ex, Sohee, the girl you saw me with,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “We’d been together since senior year of high school. She goes to another university nearby, but we made it work. Or at least, I thought we did.”

You felt the tension radiating from him as he tightened his grip on your hand slightly.

“The first time she cheated on me was during her freshman year,” he said bitterly. “She got drunk at a party and hooked up with some random guy. She swore it was a mistake, begged me to forgive her, and like an idiot, I did. I told myself it was just a one-time thing cause she was drunk.”

You stayed silent, letting him continue at his own pace.

“The second time was during spring break,” he said, his jaw clenching. “She hooked up with one of her friends while I was visiting my family. I didn’t find out until weeks later when her other friend accidentally told me about it. By then, I was already questioning everything, but I was too scared to let her go. She was my first love, you know? I thought I could fix us.”

His eyes darkened as he continued, his voice filled with pain and anger.

“But the third time…” He trailed off, swallowing hard. “That’s when everything fell apart. It was during the start of junior year. I came back to campus earlier than planned after a weekend trip. Yongha had texted me saying he’d be at Yeosang’s place, so I figured I’d swing by and hang out. When I got there…”

His voice cracked, and he looked away, his eyes glistening. “I walked in on them. Sohee and Yongha. They were making out in Yeosang’s living room, like I didn’t even exist. Like what they were doing wasn’t the ultimate betrayal.”

Your heart ached as you listened, the rawness in his voice cutting deep.

“I ended it with both of them right there,” he said firmly. “I told Sohee we were done, and I told Yongha I never wanted to see his face again. Yeosang had gone to the nearby convenience store to get beer and when he came back just as I was about to leave, he told them to get out.”

He turned to you then, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and fear. “That’s why I’ve been so distant, Y/N. That’s why I’ve been so scared to let you in. Because I know what it feels like to be betrayed by the people you trust the most. And when I saw you with Yongha constantly…” He shook his head, his voice breaking. “I couldn’t handle it. It brought everything back.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you absorbed his words, the weight of his past hitting you like a tidal wave. “Wooyoung…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I’m not saying this to make excuses,” he said quickly, his gaze locking onto yours. “I just… I needed you to know. I needed you to understand why I’ve been such a mess. But I swear to you, Y/N, I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want my past to ruin what we could have.”

His vulnerability broke something inside you, and without thinking, you reached out, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. “You won’t lose me,” you whispered fiercely. “But you have to let me in, Wooyoung. I can’t fight for this alone.”

He held onto you like you were his lifeline, his head buried in your shoulder. “I’ll try,” he promised, his voice muffled. “For you, I’ll try.”

You gently pulled back from the hug, your hands still resting on his shoulders. Wooyoung’s eyes were heavy with emotion, his vulnerability laid bare in a way you hadn’t seen before.

“Wooyoung,” you began softly, your voice steady but full of feeling. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through. No one deserves to be betrayed like that, especially not by the people they trust most.”

His jaw tightened, and he glanced away, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested on his lap. “It’s not you I don’t trust,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “I trust you, Y/N. I do. It’s him I don’t trust.”

You nodded, understanding his perspective. “I get that. What Yongha did to you was unforgivable, and I’m not here to defend him. But Wooyoung, I need you to know that whatever he and I share—it’s strictly professional. I’m his teammate. Nothing more.”

“I know that,” he said quickly, his eyes darting back to yours. “But it doesn’t stop me from… hating that you have to be around him. It’s not fair. He doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near you.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his. “I can’t change the fact that we’re on the same team,” you said gently. “But I can promise you this: Yongha doesn’t mean anything to me. You do. And I would never let him come between us.”

Wooyoung exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on your hand as if anchoring himself to you. “I want to believe you,” he admitted, his voice strained. “And I do. I trust you. But the thought of him…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You’re allowed to feel that way,” you said softly. “I’d probably feel the same if I were in your shoes. But this—what we have—it’s worth figuring out, isn’t it?”

His gaze softened, and the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease just slightly. “It is,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re worth it. I’m just…”

“Scared,” you finished for him, a small, understanding smile tugging at your lips.

He nodded, his eyes glimmering with the weight of unspoken fears. “Yeah. Scared of losing you. Scared of… him trying to ruin this.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” you said firmly, cupping his face with your free hand. “And as for Yongha, I’ll handle him. He doesn’t get to ruin anything—not for you, not for us.”

Wooyoung let out a shaky breath, leaning into your touch. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, but there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth now.

You smiled back, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Well, too bad,” you whispered against his mouth. “You’re stuck with me.”

For the first time in days, the tension between you seemed to lift, replaced by a fragile but genuine sense of hope.

“So… you want to date me?” Wooyoung asked in a sheepish tone, though there was a tinge of insecurity and vulnerability to it.

“I do, Woo. I’m in love with you too,” you admitted, and his eyes widened. “But I’d rather not rush into anything right now.”

Wooyoung’s expression shifted, his widened eyes softening as he absorbed your words. There was a flicker of relief, though it was quickly accompanied by a slight furrow of his brow. “Not rush into anything?” he repeated carefully, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You nodded, keeping your gaze steady. “I want to make sure we’re both ready for this, Woo. I’m in love with you, and I know you feel the same, but after everything that happened, I don’t want us to start something that might get tangled in unresolved feelings or doubts.”

His lips pressed together as he considered your words, his thumb unconsciously stroking over your knuckles. “I don’t doubt how I feel about you,” he said softly, but there was no mistaking the vulnerability in his voice.

“I know,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand gently. “But it’s not just about feelings. It’s about making sure we’re in a good place—both of us.”

Wooyoung’s gaze dropped for a moment, his lashes casting shadows against his cheeks. When he looked back up, there was a flicker of determination in his eyes. “You’re right,” he admitted, though his voice was tinged with reluctance. “I just… I’m scared that if I wait too long, I’ll lose you.”

“You won’t,” you said firmly, leaning closer so your foreheads nearly touched. “I’m not going anywhere. We can take things slow, figure this out together. There’s no rush, Woo.”

His lips curved into a small, lopsided smile, though the vulnerability lingered in his gaze. “Slow, huh?” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “Does that mean I still get to kiss you?”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound lightening the mood between you. “You already kissed me, genius,” you teased, brushing your nose against his.

“Yeah, but that was before the whole ‘taking it slow’ thing,” he countered with a grin that was quickly becoming more playful.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. “Does that answer your question?” you whispered when you pulled back.

Wooyoung grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Crystal clear,” he said, his voice warm and teasing, though there was a new softness to it—a promise of patience and understanding.

-x-x-x-

2 months later

The rooftop of Wooyoung’s apartment building was a winter wonderland, blanketed in fresh snow that crunched under your boots as you ran. Your hectic semester had just come to an end, and with it came heavy snowfall, much to your delight.

Wooyoung had been relentless, pelting you with snowballs and laughing with childlike joy as you tried to dodge them. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, his grin wide and mischievous as he chased you.

“Truce!” you called out breathlessly, holding up your hands.

“Truce?” he echoed, feigning suspicion but dropping his snowball nonetheless. He stepped closer, his dark eyes glimmering under the soft glow of the rooftop lights.

You nodded, smiling as you tried to catch your breath. “Yeah. I surrender.”

“Good,” he said with a smirk, leaning in close. “Because I was going to win anyway.”

“Oh, shut up,” you replied, laughing as you playfully shoved him.

His arms wrapped around you in a swift, warm hug, pulling you against him. “You’re freezing,” he murmured, his breath visible in the icy air.

“Whose fault is that?” you teased, but your words softened as you looked into his eyes.

He smiled at you, tender and full of something deeper. “Let’s go inside.”

The elevator ride down was quiet, your hands still entwined as warmth slowly returned to your fingers. By the time you reached his apartment, your cheeks were pink from the cold and from the way Wooyoung’s gaze lingered on you.

Once inside, he guided you to the couch, handing you a blanket before sitting down beside you. “I, uh… have something for you,” he said, his voice a little unsure.

You raised an eyebrow. “Something for me? What’s the occasion?”

“Just… stay here,” he said, quickly getting up and disappearing into his room.

When he returned, he was holding a small box wrapped neatly in silver paper. He sat down beside you again, his knee brushing yours as he handed it to you. “Open it.”

Your fingers were slightly trembling—not from the cold anymore—as you carefully unwrapped the box. Inside was a delicate necklace with a small heart pendant wrapped in the infinity symbol, the metal catching the light beautifully.

“Wooyoung…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I wanted to give you something that shows how much you mean to me,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “The heart is for… well, my heart, because it’s yours. And the infinity symbol… it’s because I want this to last. Forever.”

Your throat tightened, and you looked at him, your eyes already glistening with emotion. “Wooyoung…”

He reached out, gently taking the necklace from the box. “Can I?”

You nodded, turning so he could clasp it around your neck. His fingers were steady, but when he finished, he let them linger on your shoulders.

“I love you,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the vulnerability in his words. “I’ve loved you for so long, Y/N. And I want to ask… will you be my girlfriend?”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you turned back to face him. “You’re such an idiot for even having to ask,” you whispered with a watery laugh.

His face fell slightly. “Wait, is that a no—”

You didn’t let him finish, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. He froze for a moment before melting into it, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you closer.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, and you smiled. “It’s a yes, you idiot. Of course, it’s a yes.”

His grin broke out like sunshine, bright and pure, and he kissed you again, more passionately this time.

“Good,” he murmured against your lips. “Because I’m never letting you go.”

The warmth of Wooyoung’s embrace enveloped you as you sat together on his couch, the delicate weight of the necklace now resting against your collarbone. His kisses softened, turning into small pecks on your lips, your cheeks, and even the tip of your nose, making you giggle.

“You’re in a good mood,” you teased, brushing a strand of hair out of his face.

“I just secured the best girlfriend in the world,” he said smugly, his arms tightening around your waist. “Why wouldn’t I be in a good mood?”

“Flatterer,” you replied with a mock roll of your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile.

“I’m serious, Y/N.” His tone shifted slightly, becoming softer, more sincere. “These past two months… you’ve been my light. Even when I was being a coward, you stuck by me. I don’t deserve you, but I’ll spend every day trying to prove myself wrong.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you cupped his face in your hands. “Wooyoung, don’t say you don’t deserve me. We both have our flaws, our scars, but that’s what makes us stronger. And I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re stuck with me.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Stuck with you, huh?” He opened his eyes, a playful glint returning. “I think I can live with that.”

“Good,” you said with a grin. “Now, how about we celebrate? Hot chocolate and a cheesy rom-com?”

“Cheesy rom-com?” he groaned dramatically, though his lips twitched with amusement. “I thought we were celebrating, not torturing me.”

“Hey, I’ve endured enough action movies for you,” you shot back. “It’s your turn to compromise.”

“Fine, fine,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “But I’m picking the snacks.”

“Deal.”

As you both moved to the kitchen to prepare for your cozy night in, you couldn’t help but glance down at the necklace again, your fingers brushing over the pendant. It wasn’t just a piece of jewelry; it was a promise, a symbol of the love you both were willing to fight for.

And as Wooyoung pulled you into another unexpected hug, whispering “I love you” into your ear, you realized that this was it—this was the beginning of your forever.

The End.

A/N: Precious readers, you have made it to the end! I want to sincerely thank you for taking the time to read yet another fic of mine, or if this is your first one, I hope you enjoyed it! I am working on a new story that will come out this month, so stay tuned! <3

[kflixnet]

Check out our member Rie's drabble!!

[19:40] (Bubblegum Bitch Imagine)

Summary: Your needy boyfriend wants cuddles.

Characters/Pairing(s): Bubblegum Bitch!Hongjoong x Male!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Crack

AUs/Trope info: Highschool! AU (They are LEGAL), Mean Girls! AU, Drabble after original fic, established relationship

Word Count: 163

Warnings: threats of castration, suggestive in the sense that y/n misinterprets hongjoong's intention

Rating: 16+

A/N: deep in my i want cuddles feels today ngl (drabble in the bubblegum bitch universe!)

"Baaaaaaabe-!" Hongjoong whined, the blonde hit the mattress with his fists, you were too busy with work to join him in bed for cuddles. You sigh, pushing up your glasses before turning on your chair to face him.

"Yes, honey?" You ask, running a hand through your hair, he fully extends his arms towards you, making 'grabby hands' gestures.

"I need my boyfriend's cuddles, now, get over here before I bite your dick off."

"haha okay okay" You replied,

Reaching down to take your sweatpants off, Hongjoong stutters out his interruption, "T-that's not what I meant! I mean, I want actual cuddles, wholesome! No need to whip your dick out!"

You made an 'ohhhh' face before lifting the covers up to lay beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Better?"

He snuggles into your chest, "Much better." his reply was muffled into it. You chuckle and kiss his forehead.

"You're adorable when you aren't a bitch."

He smacks your ass at that.

Tags: @kwanisms, @yoonguurt, @shinestarhwaa, @stardragongalaxy, @wooyoungmybelovedhusband, @anyamaris, @dimpledsatan, @haosweater, @starlitmark, @seongwin, @midnxght-sky, @nebulousbookshelf, @piratequeen-queenofgames, @northerngalxy, @yourfatherlucifer, @twisted-tales-of-all, @seumiley, @pocketsky

Network Tags: @cultofdionysusnet, @wonderlandnet, @kflixnet, @sandsofire

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