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mingiatz · 2 days ago

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Y/N, a soft-spoken third-year physical therapy major, is assigned to assist the university’s elite fencing club — a team full of campus heartthrobs, including the famously composed captain, Seonghwa. She’s used to being overlooked, but the more time she spends with the team, the more they come to appreciate her quiet strength — especially Seonghwa, who begins to notice things about her no one else ever has.

⭐️Pairing: Park Seonghwa (ATEEZ) × Plus-Size!Reader

🌅 Trope(s): Slow Burn Romance, Mutual Pining, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Sunshine × Stoic Dynamic

🍡Genre:Romance | Angst | Comfort | Emotional Growth

🦢Featuring: All ATEEZ members as Seonghwa’s teammates, Supportive single father character, Original side characters

Masterlist

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If someone had told Y/N at the start of her third year that she’d be spending her afternoons in a fencing gym surrounded by Seoul’s most intense athletes, she would’ve laughed quietly and gone back to her anatomy notes. But here she was. Assigned. Officially.

“Kim Y/N,” Professor Lee said, his tone clipped and efficient as always. “You’re being placed with the university fencing club for your fieldwork rotation.”

Y/N blinked. “The fencing club?” She had expected a quiet sports therapy clinic, or maybe track and field at most — something that let her blend into the background. Fencing, with ist expensive gear and meticulous elegance, felt a little… dramatic. Professor Lee didn’t look up from his tablet. “They’ve had too many minor injuries lately. Shin splints. Shoulder strain. One possible stress fracture. I want your focus to be on preventative treatment, form analysis, and basic recovery support. You’ll report to their coach, but consider yourself responsible for monitoring their health.”

Y/N nodded slowly, already anxious. “Yes, sir.” He glanced at her briefly. “You’re capable, Kim. That’s why I’m sending you. You’re one of my best students.”

That warmed her, even if it didn’t erase the nervous buzz in her chest.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “Survive them.”

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The fencing gym was colder than she expected. Concrete floors, pristine white gear racks, gleaming metallic weapons lined up like instruments. There was an air of precision to everything — measured, structured, clean. She felt like a splash of softness in a world of edges.

Her reflection passed over the wall-length mirror, and she couldn’t help but pause briefly. Her hoodie was oversized, her leggings stretched comfortably around her hips and thighs. She was plus-size, and she didn’t hide it. Not anymore. She knew her body. It wasn’t a problem to be solved — it was a tool, strong and capable. But walking into a room full of lean athletes? Yeah. It still made her stomach flutter.

“Hello?”

The voice startled her.

A tall guy with sandy brown hair popped out from behind the equipment closet, blinking at her like he wasn’t sure she was real.

“Hi,” Y/N said, voice soft but steady. “I’m Y/N. Physical therapy assistant? I was told to report here today.”

“OH!” the guy beamed. “You’re the new PT? Awesome!”

He jogged toward her, absolutely radiating sunshine and limbs. “I’m Wooyoung. One of the sabre guys. You’ll meet the rest soon. We’re just finishing warm-ups.”

Y/N smiled shyly. “Nice to meet you.”

As he turned to call over his shoulder, more bodies spilled into the room — tall, sweat-slick, dressed in warm-up gear or half-gear. They looked like they stepped out of a sports anime. All handsome. All chaotic.

“I found her!” Wooyoung announced. “She’s real and she’s cute.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned, but he didn’t say it in a creepy way. More like a giddy welcome.

The group turned. Yunho, Mingi, Jongho, Yeosang, San, Hongjoong…

And finally, Seonghwa.

She didn’t know their names yet, but she’d remember him.

Seonghwa didn’t say anything at first. He just stood near the corner of the gym, towel over his neck, dark eyes scanning her quietly. Not judging. Not cold. But observant — like he was assessing her the same way he did an opponent before a match.

Y/N’s eyes dropped to her clipboard. She was used to stares. This one didn’t sting. It just made her straighten her spine a little more.

The coach — an older woman with sharp eyes and the posture of a general — entered from the back office.

“Ah, you’re the PT student?” she asked. “Kim Y/N?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“She’s your new guardian angel,” the coach told the boys. “I want fewer sprained ankles this semester. That means listen to her. Stretch properly. And if you’re in pain, don’t lie about it.”

There were a few groans of protest.

“Y/N, I’ll leave you with them. They’ll show you around.”

With that, the coach disappeared.

Y/N turned back toward the group. Most of them looked relaxed, interested, maybe even a little curious.

Seonghwa, however, still hadn’t said a word.

Wooyoung clapped his hands together. “Okay! Let’s do intros.”

One by one, they introduced themselves — each with their own flair. Mingi gave her a shy wave. San offered a bright smile. Yeosang nodded politely. Jongho smirked and said, “Don’t worry, we’re not as scary as we look.”

She laughed softly.

Then Seonghwa stepped forward.

He didn’t smile, but he bowed slightly — formal, respectful.

“Seonghwa,” he said. “Captain.”

And then stepped back again.

Y/N nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

It wasn’t rude. Just… careful. Like he was pulling his emotions through a filter.

By the end of the first hour, Y/N was already scribbling notes on posture imbalances and muscle tension. They were fast, sharp, and coordinated — but she noticed subtle things. The way San favored his right leg when pivoting. The tension in Jongho’s wrist during a lunge. The way Mingi pushed through tight shoulders even though his face stayed calm.

She liked observing. It made her feel useful.

During water break, she quietly made her way toward a bench in the corner to go over her notes. Most of the team scattered for water or gear adjustments.

Except one.

“Hey.”

Yeosang sat down next to her.

She looked up, surprised but not uncomfortable. “Hi.”

“Just wanted to say I’m glad you’re here,” he said simply. “We usually get guys who treat us like lab rats. You’re different.”

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks. I just want to help.”

“You will.” He stood, gave her a two-finger salute, and headed back toward the mat.

That was when she heard it.

Whispers. Two voices. Male. From across the gym, maybe near the door.

“Is that really the new assistant?”

“She’s… not what I pictured.”

“Not sure she’ll keep up, honestly. Doesn’t exactly look like a PT major.”

Y/N froze.

It wasn’t new. These things never were. But still — it hurt. Always did.

She kept her head down, focused on her clipboard, pretending she hadn’t heard a thing.

But someone else had.

Seonghwa’s head turned subtly in their direction, his jaw tightening for a split second.

His gaze shifted toward Y/N. She hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t said a word.

But her shoulders were a little more square. Her focus too focused.

He frowned to himself.

It had been just over two weeks since Y/N started with the fencing club.

The routine was settling in now — warm-ups, assisted stretching, post-practice cooldowns, and a few taped ankles here and there. She’d even started creating personalized rehab sheets for each member, color-coded and stored in a little clipboard folder she carried like armor.

The guys had warmed up to her quickly. San always greeted her with an over-the-top bow. Mingi brought her a banana milk from the vending machine every few days. Wooyoung tried (and failed) to make her laugh with cheesy fencing puns. Jongho sat near her between rounds, sometimes just in silence, which she appreciated.

Even Seonghwa was changing.

Slowly. Barely noticeably.

But she saw it.

At first, he barely spoke to her. Now, he thanked her softly when she handed him an ice pack. He listened carefully when she reminded him to switch out shoes with better arch support. And once, after a particularly brutal training session, he said, “You always know exactly what we’ll need before we ask.”

She had blinked at him then, surprised.

He hadn’t smiled. But his voice was warm.

That was the thing with Seonghwa. He didn’t speak carelessly. Every word held intention — like the way he moved on the mat. Clean. Controlled.

And yet, he had started glancing toward her more.

Lingering just a beat longer when their eyes met.

He probably didn’t realize it.

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One late Thursday practice, she crouched beside San, guiding his leg through a slow hamstring stretch.

“I keep telling you,” she said gently, “if you don’t hold it long enough, it won’t do anything.”

“But it burns,” he whined.

“That’s the point.”

“Can’t we just ice it and pretend we did this part?”

She smiled faintly. “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.”

Behind her, she felt a quiet shift in the air — a pair of eyes watching.

She looked up.

Seonghwa was across the gym, towel slung around his neck, half-finished wrapping his hands. He wasn’t training. Just… observing.

Not in a critical way. Not like those whispering voices in the hallways or the ones that lived in the corners of her memory. His gaze wasn’t cruel.

It was… curious.

Then he caught her looking, and — to her surprise — gave her the smallest nod.

Her stomach fluttered.

Later that day, Y/N stopped by the campus convenience store to grab dinner before her night lecture.

Two girls from the physical therapy department were standing near the fridge, giggling over something on a phone.

She didn’t mean to overhear. She really didn’t.

But her name was mentioned. Twice.

“Is that the girl who got placed with the fencing team?”

“Yeah. Y/N. She’s smart, but…”

“She’s sweet, though. But like… I don’t get why they picked her. There were better options.”

“She’s not exactly athletic-looking.”

“I’d die if Seonghwa had to look at me like that every day.”

Y/N stayed frozen in place.

The hum of the fridge vibrated against her palm. Her mouth had gone dry.

She turned away before they noticed her, leaving without buying anything.

The next afternoon, at practice, she kept to herself. Quiet. Focused. Polite. But inwardly, the voices gnawed.

She wasn’t ashamed of her body. Not anymore. But she was tired of having to prove it deserved respect. Tired of strangers assuming kindness meant weakness. That softness meant incompetence.

The guys didn’t notice at first. They were too busy running footwork drills, sweat glistening under the harsh gym lights.

But one of them did.

Yeosang walked up to her during cooldowns.

“You okay today?” he asked.

She blinked. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’re quieter than usual.”

She shrugged. “Just tired.”

He nodded, not pushing. But he glanced toward the others and said something under his breath before jogging back to join Jongho.

What Y/N didn’t know was that Seonghwa arrived late that evening, having stayed behind to speak with the team’s advisor. He hadn’t seen the practice, but he came back in time to hear Jongho explaining something to the others — low and urgent.

Seonghwa didn’t interrupt. He just stood in the doorway and listened.

When Yeosang mentioned what he heard from the girls, something in Seonghwa’s expression shifted.

Not dramatically. Just a quiet narrowing of his eyes. A muscle ticking in his jaw.

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The following week, it happened.

Y/N was walking across campus, clipboard in hand, when she saw the same two girls sitting on a bench, giggling with their phones again.

And standing right in front of them was Seonghwa.

He wasn’t yelling. He didn’t raise his voice.

But his posture was sharp. Clear. Icy calm.

“I heard what you said about our assistant,” he said. “I’d recommend keeping opinions like that to yourselves. Especially when they have no basis in fact.”

The girls looked stunned. One of them opened her mouth to argue, but Seonghwa simply tilted his head slightly.

“Y/N is one of the most competent, dedicated people I’ve worked with. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t be there. Understood?”

They Both nodded, flustered.

He walked away without another word.

Y/N hadn’t meant to watch. She hadn’t expected it.

But something in her chest warmed — tight, painful, grateful. Not because she needed saving.

But because he didn’t do it for her.

He did it because it was right.

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That night at practice, she didn’t mention it. Neither did he.

But when she handed him a towel after cooldowns, his fingers brushed hers — gentle, firm — and he held her gaze just a second longer than necessary.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?” she asked, heartbeat too loud in her ears.

“For being here.”

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After everyone left, Y/N lingered in the gym. Coach had asked her to organize some old supplies.

She didn’t hear the door open.

“Need help?”

She turned.

Seonghwa stood there, in a loose tee and joggers, hair still damp from his shower.

She blinked. “You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

He crossed the room and knelt beside her, helping sort through the resistance bands and foam rollers.

They didn’t speak much.

But it was a comfortable silence.

She found herself glancing at his hands — long fingers, careful grip.

He noticed her looking and raised an eyebrow, teasing.

“What?”

“Just wondering if you always organize by size and color.”

He gave the smallest smile. “Doesn’t everyone?”

She laughed — actually laughed — and for a moment, it felt like the room softened around them.

When they finished, she stood to stretch.

“Thank you,” she said.

This time, she meant it. And not just for the boxes.

Seonghwa hesitated, then looked at her — really looked.

“You’re good at this, Y/N.”

She swallowed. “You didn’t think I would be at first.”

“No,” he admitted. “But not because of anything personal. I just… don’t like trusting new people.”

She nodded, understanding more than he realized.

“Well,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that, she picked up her clipboard and left.

Behind her, Seonghwa stared at the door a long moment — longer than necessary — before slowly exhaling through his nose.

The gym rang with cheers.

Blades down, helmets off — the fencing team had pulled off a narrow but satisfying win in their final match of the regional tournament. Y/N watched from the sidelines, clapping hard as the referee raised Seonghwa’s arm in victory. His chest rose and fell with fast, even breaths. His jaw was set with focus even in the moment of celebration.

Only when he turned toward the team did he smile — not wide, not boastful, just a small upturn of lips. But it was real. And when he looked past the team and met her eyes across the court, she swore it grew just a bit more.

The team had planned a casual dinner afterward. Just the usual — a favorite BBQ spot not far from campus.

Y/N was about to follow them straight there when Coach Han — the team’s co-coach and the only female staff member — caught her by the arm.

“You should go home and get changed,” Coach said with a kind smile. “We’ll take a bit to settle in.”

“Oh… is that okay?”

“Of course.” Coach’s grin widened. “It’s a celebration. Let the boys see what you look like outside the gym.”

Y/N laughed, a little nervously. “I think they’ve already seen plenty of sweat and ponytails.”

Coach leaned closer, teasing. “Exactly why I’m telling you to surprise them.”

Y/N didn’t usually fuss about appearances. She liked what she liked — oversized hoodies, clean sneakers, natural looks. But today felt different. She didn’t want to impress anyone. She just wanted to feel like herself, outside of tape rolls and pressure charts. So she showered. She carefully dried her hair and let it hang loose, the waves falling heavy and long down her back. She put on a soft, flowy cream top and dark jeans that hugged comfortably. A touch of blush. Lip balm. Nothing dramatic. When she checked the mirror, she blinked.

She looked… soft. Open. Still herself, just brighter.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she picked up her phone and left.

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The restaurant was already buzzing when she arrived.

The team had taken over the back half of the patio — all laughter and chopsticks and clinking soda bottles. Someone had started grilling already. She stepped through the gate. And the laughter stopped.

For a moment, silence settled over the table like a flipped switch.

She scanned their faces — all of them staring, wide-eyed.

Mingi was the first to recover. “Holy—Y/N?”

“Whoa,” said San, mouth half open.

“You look…” Jongho trailed off, blinking like he forgot how to finish a sentence.

Yeosang smiled slowly. “Different.”

Even Wooyoung whistled, holding a chopstick like a mic. “Okay, transformation queen!”

Y/N flushed. “It’s just a shirt.”

“You own that shirt,” San said, waving her over. “Come sit. We saved you a spot.”

As she slid into the open seat — right across from Seonghwa — Mingi leaned closer to her with wide eyes.

“Your hair,” he said, genuine awe in his voice. “It looks really nice like that. Didn’t know it was so long.”

Y/N’s flush deepened. “Thank you.”

Seonghwa, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her, added quietly, “It suits you. A lot.”

She met his eyes briefly, heart thudding. “Thanks.”

Coach Han joined them then, sitting down with a beer and grinning. “I told her to clean up a bit. Doesn’t she look nice?”

Mingi nodded. “You’re gonna give us a heart attack, showing up like this.”

“You all are dramatic,” she muttered, sipping water and trying not to melt into her chair.

“Only because you never let us compliment you,” Yeosang added. “We’re just surprised. You usually try to blend in.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Is that a bad thing?”

Seonghwa’s voice came again, calm and even. “Not bad. But sometimes, it’s okay to take up space.”

She looked at him. He didn’t look away this time.

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Dinner passed in waves of laughter and food. San did impressions. Wooyoung reenacted their match like it was a martial arts film. Coach Han teased them all mercilessly, especially Seonghwa, who bore it with a faint smile. But Y/N noticed something else too.

Whenever someone else leaned a little too close to her, offered to fill her cup, or bumped shoulders with her in the tight seating arrangement — Seonghwa’s posture shifted. He never said a word. Never glared.

But he was aware. Always aware.

And she noticed that now.

The evening wound down with full bellies and sleepy eyes. As they exited the restaurant, Y/N pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders and turned toward the street.

“I’ll head back,” she said.

“Alone?” Mingi asked.

She nodded. “It’s not far.”

Wooyoung stood. “Nope.”

“Not happening,” Jongho added.

Seonghwa was already at her side. “We’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“We want to,” Yeosang said.

And that was that.

They walked slowly through the quiet streets, the cool breeze brushing her hair behind her. The sound of their sneakers on pavement was steady and calm. At one point, San offered her his jacket, even though she wasn’t cold. She wore it anyway, mostly to make him smile.

Y/N felt full — not just from dinner, but from something deeper. From being seen. Heard. Not for what she could do or what she looked like, but just… as herself. The guys were halfway teasing each other again when she looked toward her house — and froze.

A voice, muffled but desperate, rang out.

“Help! Someone—!”

Her father.

Y/N didn’t think.

She ran.

Seonghwa didn’t consider himself someone who was easily rattled. He prided himself on being calm, measured, the kind of leader who didn’t shout or overreact. His friends sometimes teased him about being the dad of the group, but he didn’t mind. It was easier to keep things together when you stayed composed. But the moment he heard that voice yelling for help — muffled through Y/N’s front door — something twisted hard in his chest. Y/N reacted first, bolting toward the sound without a word. The rest of them hesitated for only a beat before following.

By the time Seonghwa stepped inside the small, warm house, the others were already in motion. He froze at the sight in front of him.

A man — older, maybe in his fifties, wearing a soft flannel shirt — was on the floor beside an overturned wheelchair, trying to push himself upright. His face was flushed with the effort and the clear, stinging shame of the moment.

Y/N was kneeling beside him, her voice trembling. “Appa, are you okay? Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” her father said, his voice strained with embarrassment. “Just fell. I was trying to reach the damn light switch and—”

“Don’t move, okay? Just—let me help.”

Seonghwa stepped forward quietly, joining the others as they gently lifted the man and righted the wheelchair. He didn’t say anything at first, didn’t want to overwhelm or embarrass Y/N’s father further. But when the man was seated again and seemed stable, Seonghwa crouched beside him.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt, sir?” he asked softly.

The man looked at him and blinked, startled — maybe by Seonghwa’s gentle tone, maybe by the fact that they were all still there. Then, he sighed and gave a small shake of the head. “Just my pride, son.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, standing upright and brushing hair from her face. Her hands were trembling, Seonghwa noticed.

Her father looked around at the boys who had crowded into the small living room and laughed lightly. “Didn’t know my daughter came with a full army. You boys always this well-behaved?”

“Yes, sir,” Mingi said immediately, then grinned. “Mostly.”

“I don’t know about Wooyoung,” San added, earning a shove.

Y/N’s father chuckled. “Thank you all. I mean it.”

They stayed for a while. Y/N brought her father water while the rest of them gathered around, asking gentle questions and making sure everything was okay. Her father warmed up quickly, joking with them and deflecting the embarrassment with charm.

Seonghwa watched Y/N the whole time.

She was trying to smile. Trying to stay composed.

But when she slipped out onto the small balcony fifteen minutes later, quiet and barely noticed, he followed.

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The air was cooler outside. The sky stretched deep and dark above, with soft light leaking from a distant window. Y/N stood by the railing, arms crossed over her chest. Her long hair moved slightly in the breeze. Seonghwa stepped out and closed the sliding door behind him.

“I’m okay,” she said without turning.

“I know,” he replied. “But… I thought you might want some company anyway.”

That made her glance at him. Her eyes looked tired.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” she said quietly. “I just… needed a second.”

“You’re not a burden.”

She didn’t respond.

They stood in silence for a moment before she spoke again. “I should’ve told you all about my dad before.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s not something you owe anyone.”

She shook her head slowly. “I wanted to. I just… didn’t know how.”

Seonghwa leaned against the railing beside her, close but not touching. His eyes stayed on the horizon, giving her space.

“I guess you’re wondering what happened,” she murmured, barely audible.

“Only if you want to tell me.”

She was quiet for a while. Then: “There was an accident. Three years ago. A drunk driver ran a red light and hit my dad’s car on his way home from picking up my mom from work. She… she didn’t make it.”

Seonghwa turned his head toward her, but didn’t speak. He could see her lower lip trembling.

“My dad was in a coma for three weeks. When he woke up, they told us he’d never walk again. That’s… why I chose PT. I wanted to understand. To help him. To help other people like him.”

“Y/N…” Seonghwa’s voice caught.

She shook her head again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump that on you.”

“You didn’t.”

She looked up at him, skeptical.

“You didn’t,” he repeated softly. “You trusted me. That’s different.”

Her expression cracked at that. She smiled, just barely, but it was real. “You’re not like I expected you to be.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a good thing?”

“I think so.”

She turned back to the railing, her voice more even now. “Sometimes I feel like people only see me a certain way. Like… like I’m not allowed to be soft or emotional because of how I look. Or like I have to be extra competent to make up for it.”

Seonghwa felt something clench in his chest.

“I noticed that,” he said. “How hard you work. How quiet you are when people say the wrong things.”

Her head turned toward him again, eyes wide. “You noticed?”

“I always notice.”

It was quiet again for a while. The wind shifted, brushing past them like a whisper.

Seonghwa looked at her, the curve of her cheek, the slight movement of her lips as she breathed in and out.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that,” he said softly. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

Y/N looked back at him, and there was something in her eyes now — not guardedness, but something else. Something like warmth.

“You’re not what I expected either,” she said.

Seonghwa gave a faint smile. “Is that a good thing?”

This time, she laughed. A real, quiet laugh. “I think so.”

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Seonghwa wasn’t sure when it started — the way his eyes kept searching for her.

It wasn’t dramatic. He didn’t sit around writing poetry in the air or daydream through fencing drills like a lovesick fool. But she was there — somehow always in his periphery, like the quiet rhythm of his day. She’d be at the edge of the gym, crouched beside a fencer taping their knee or adjusting a brace, completely focused and serious. Or she’d walk into the campus café between classes, earphones in, eyes distant, and Seonghwa would catch himself wondering what she was listening to. She wore the same hoodie far too often. And she always carried too many books. And her hair, when she left it down, was a kind of quiet magic that made something in his chest tighten. He didn’t say anything about it, of course. He just noticed.

And, apparently, so did his friends.

“You’re staring again,” San said, his voice sing-song as he popped a grape into his mouth during lunch at the dorm.

“I’m not,” Seonghwa replied without looking up from his notes.

Mingi leaned over the table. “You are. And you’ve been nicer lately. Like, freakishly nice.”

“I’m always nice.”

“No, hyung,” Wooyoung chimed in, “you’re respectful. Polite. But lately? You’ve been… soft.”

“I’m not—”

“Yesterday,” Yeosang interrupted, “you tied her shoelace without even blinking.”

“I was being helpful,” Seonghwa muttered.

“And when she thanked you, you smiled like she’d just solved world peace,” Hongjoong added with a teasing grin.

Seonghwa groaned. “Can’t I just be decent without it turning into an interrogation?”

“Sure,” Jongho said innocently. “Except you’re only ‘decent’ when she’s around.”

They all laughed as Seonghwa leaned back in his chair, covering his face with one hand. Still, he didn’t deny it.

That same evening, in the quiet of her living room, Y/N sat across from her father while folding laundry.

“You’ve been smiling more,” her dad noted casually, sipping his tea.

She glanced up. “Have I?”

He nodded. “Don’t think I don’t notice these things. I might be old, but I’m observant.”

Y/N laughed softly and rolled her eyes.

“So,” he said, resting the mug on the table, “is there a secret boyfriend I should know about?”

Her hand froze mid-fold.

“What? No. I—”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m serious! There’s no one.”

He tilted his head. “Really?”

And that’s when it happened.

She pictured someone.

Not her idealized version of a boyfriend, not some vague daydream… but an actual person.

Park Seonghwa.

His sharp eyes, the way he smoothed his hair back when he was focused, the warmth in his voice when he spoke softly — especially to her.

She blinked quickly and looked down, heart picking up pace.

Her dad noticed. “You hesitated.”

“I didn’t,” she lied.

He smirked. “You totally did. Is it that tall one who always calls me ‘sir’ like we’re in the military?”

“That’s all of them,” she said weakly, cheeks heating.

He chuckled. “Just be careful with your heart, sweetheart.”

She looked up. “I am.”

But as she returned to folding laundry, the image of Seonghwa — with his calm voice and unreadable eyes — wouldn’t leave her alone.

It was a slow Saturday morning when Y/N heard the knock.

Not the loud, insistent kind — just a light rhythm against the door, polite and familiar. She opened it with a curious smile and found herself face to face with Mingi, holding a paper bag and grinning like he’d won the lottery.

“Delivery for the prettiest physical therapy major on campus,” he said, stepping back dramatically to reveal the rest of the team behind him.

Yunho waved cheerfully. “We brought food!”

Wooyoung peeked out from behind Jongho. “And ourselves. Hope you don’t mind.”

She blinked, momentarily stunned. “You guys… came all the way here?”

“We figured it was time we visited properly,” San added. “You always walk us home.”

Y/N’s father peeked into the hallway from the living room, raising an eyebrow. “Your entire team’s here?”

“Yes, sir,” Hongjoong said, stepping forward and offering a respectful bow. “Thank you for letting us stop by.”

Her dad chuckled. “Guess I should’ve dressed nicer.”

The living room was cozy, the couch too small for all of them, but no one seemed to mind.

The boys settled in like they belonged there, bringing energy and laughter into the quiet apartment. Y/N made tea, her father told stories, and somehow the place felt lighter.

“You raised a good one,” Jongho said to her dad at one point, gesturing toward Y/N with a nod of admiration.

Her dad smiled. “She raised me too, in her own way.”

Seonghwa sat at the edge of the couch, quiet but attentive. He didn’t insert himself into the stories like Wooyoung or tease like Mingi. He just listened — to Y/N’s father, to the way she laughed, to the rhythm of the people in this home.

He noticed things. The framed photos on the wall. The careful layout of furniture that allowed easy access for the wheelchair. The pair of slippers by the door that didn’t belong to either of them, probably saved for guests.

After lunch, when some of the boys helped clean up and others played card games on the rug, Y/N slipped outside onto the small balcony.

Seonghwa followed a few minutes later, careful not to make the door creak too much behind him.

She leaned on the railing, long hair tied back loosely, the afternoon sun catching in her lashes.

“You’re quiet today,” she said without looking at him.

“I’m just taking it all in,” Seonghwa replied.

She glanced at him then, eyes soft. “Thank you for coming.”

He shook his head. “We wanted to. You matter to us.”

Something about the way he said you made her heart stutter.

“I’ve never really had friends like this,” she admitted. “Not the kind that show up without asking for anything. Not the kind that make everything feel… easier.”

He nodded. “I get that.”

They stood in comfortable silence. Then, Seonghwa shifted slightly toward her.

“I’ve never seen you like this,” he said softly. “So at home.”

Y/N blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Just… you’re usually focused. At the gym, you’re always watching, helping, managing things. But here, you seem lighter. You laugh more.”

She smiled faintly. “Maybe because I’m not on duty.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe this is just closer to who you are.”

Their eyes met — and stayed there for just a moment too long.

Later, as the others gathered to leave, Y/N’s father called out softly, “Seonghwa, could you stay back for a second?”

He looked startled, but nodded, offering a small bow to the others as they filed out the door.

Y/N paused near the hallway, unsure if she should leave them alone.

Her father gave her a look. “It’s alright, sweetheart.”

She disappeared into her room, but left the door cracked open.

Seonghwa moved toward the armchair, unsure of what to expect.

“I wanted to thank you,” her father said gently. “You were the first one to follow her outside that night. She doesn’t talk about that moment, but I know it meant something.”

Seonghwa blinked. “She… she needed someone. I didn’t do anything special.”

“Being there is special,” her father said. “Especially for someone like her.”

He sipped his tea. “I’ve seen how you look at her.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened. “I—sir, I—”

Her father chuckled. “Relax. I’m not mad. I just wanted to tell you… if you ever do decide to be honest about your feelings, just don’t hurt her. That’s all I care about.”

“I would never,” Seonghwa said quietly, but firmly.

“I believe you.”

Then her father leaned back in his chair. “She sees the world differently. And it’s taken a long time for her to feel safe again.”

Seonghwa nodded. “I’ll do right by her. Even if I’m just… someone on the sidelines.”

“She already notices you,” he said with a knowing smile. “She just doesn’t believe someone like you would notice back.”

Seonghwa swallowed hard.

He had no idea how to respond to that.

But later that night, as he walked back to the dorms with the guys, he kept hearing those words in his head.

She just doesn’t believe someone like you would notice back.

And he knew then, with quiet certainty, that he would do whatever it took to prove her wrong — not with grand gestures, but with presence, patience, and softness.

Y/N never thought of herself as someone who got noticed.

She was the type who blended in. Who walked to class with her earbuds in, who sat near the back but always took the best notes, who knew professors by name but was often forgotten in crowded hallways.

But lately… things had changed.

And it had everything to do with him.

It started small.

Seonghwa would wait for her after fencing practice — not obviously, just hovering near the entrance with his gym bag slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning the hallway until they landed on her. If her backpack looked too heavy, he’d offer to carry it without a word. If her hair was falling into her face while she checked her planner, he’d gently tuck a strand behind her ear before saying goodbye.

She wasn’t used to people like him noticing people like her.

And the campus? They noticed too.

It started with looks. Lingering glances. Quiet nudges.

And then, the whispers.

“Is that Park Seonghwa?”

“With her? No way.”

“They’ve been together a lot lately…”

“Maybe she’s helping him study?”

“Or maybe it’s a dare or something.”

“She’s not even— I mean… he’s so cold and she’s just—?”

Y/N turned the corner too quickly and walked right into a group of girls outside the café. They stopped talking the second they saw her. One of them flinched like she’d been caught red-handed. Another looked away awkwardly.

Y/N didn’t say anything.

She kept walking. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears. Her throat was tight. She didn’t need to hear the rest — she’d heard enough versions of it her whole life.

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That afternoon, Seonghwa found her sitting alone on a bench near the library, eyes fixed on a spot in the distance.

“You didn’t wait for me after class,” he said gently.

She blinked. “Sorry. I had something to do.”

He studied her carefully. “Did something happen?”

“No. I’m just tired.”

“You’ve never lied to me before,” he said quietly.

She looked down at her lap. “It’s nothing worth talking about.”

He didn’t push. Just sat down beside her, close enough to share space but not crowd it.

“I’ll carry your bag today,” he offered.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said. “But I want to.”

She exhaled. “Why?”

He glanced at her. “Because you’re important.”

Her chest ached.

Later that evening, she sat with her dad during dinner. She didn’t tell him what she’d overheard. She didn’t want to worry him. But she asked softly, “Do people ever surprise you?”

He smiled. “All the time.”

“In good ways?”

“In every way.”

She nodded. “I think… I don’t know what to make of Seonghwa.”

Her dad looked up. “You don’t think he’s sincere?”

“I think he’s too good to be true.”

Her dad reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Sometimes, sweetheart, good people just… are. You don’t need to earn it. You just need to let them stay.”

Seonghwa had never cared much about what people said about him.

He wasn’t oblivious — he just didn’t find value in chasing approval. His role on the fencing team, his academics, his responsibilities… they came first. Always. And if that meant people called him distant, uptight, or cold — so be it.

He didn’t need to be understood.

At least, that’s what he used to believe.

Until Y/N.

It was a Tuesday afternoon. Cloudy sky, leaves just starting to scatter on the pavement. Seonghwa had stayed back at the gym to finish up, and now he walked across campus alone, earbuds tucked in, hoodie pulled over his head.

He was heading toward the café when he paused at the outdoor vending machines to grab a drink.

That’s when he heard it.

“I swear, he used to scare me.”

“He still kinda does. That stare? It’s deadly.”

“But he’s been different lately.”

“Yeah. I saw him walking with that PT assistant again. The plus-size one with the long hair.”

“Oh, her.”

“Why is she always with him now?”

“Right? I mean… the guy’s literally a Greek statue.”

“I thought he didn’t even talk to people outside the team.”

“He used to be like… totally frozen. That’s why they call him the ice prince.”

“Well, guess someone finally thawed him.”

Laughter.

Seonghwa didn’t move.

He stood there, hand clenched around a can of cold tea, staring at the buttons on the vending machine like they might rewrite what he’d just heard.

They weren’t malicious, not exactly. But they were careless. Shallow.

They talked like she was… a curiosity. An oddity.

Like he was supposed to stay untouchable.

Like Y/N wasn’t— wasn’t the kindest, strongest person he’d met in years.

He walked away without saying a word.

Later, during practice, he was quieter than usual. Even Yunho noticed.

“You good?” he asked, nudging him with a padded elbow between sparring rounds.

“Yeah,” Seonghwa lied. “Just tired.”

But he wasn’t tired.

He was angry. Not at them — at himself.

Because a part of him had been frozen. For so long. Out of habit, out of fear. He didn’t make room for softness. He didn’t think he was the kind of person who needed it.

But now?

Now he noticed everything.

He noticed the way Y/N kept her notes meticulously neat but always left her pens scattered. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking. The way she tried to shrink herself in crowded spaces.

The way she flinched when she heard people laughing behind her.

The way she still smiled, even on the days she looked like she wanted to disappear.

And he hated that people reduced her to whispers.

He hated that they dared to make her feel small.

The next day, he caught up to her before class.

She was balancing a heavy tote bag full of books, her brows furrowed in concentration.

“Let me take that,” he said gently.

She blinked, startled. “Oh— it’s okay, I’ve got it.”

“I know,” he said, already sliding the strap off her shoulder and onto his. “But I want to.”

She hesitated, then gave him a quiet, grateful look.

They walked together down the hallway, a familiar rhythm forming between their footsteps.

“Thanks,” she said.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

She laughed once. “You say that a lot.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m helping because I feel sorry for you.”

“I know you’re not.”

They stopped near the lecture hall, and for a moment, he studied her profile.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he said.

“Just busy.”

He nodded. “If anyone ever says something to you… anything that makes you uncomfortable—”

“They don’t have to,” she said quietly. “I hear them anyway.”

Seonghwa felt something in his chest twist.

“Then I’ll say it louder,” he murmured.

She looked up at him.

“What?”

“I see you,” he said softly. “Not what they say. Not what they think. Just you.”

Y/N looked like she wanted to say something — but their professor walked by, and the moment passed.

Still, as she entered the lecture hall, she turned back for just a second.

And Seonghwa… he was still watching her.

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It was the third time Seonghwa hovered by the gym door before she finally turned to him and asked, “Do you need something?”

He looked oddly hesitant — like his thoughts were moving faster than his mouth.

“We’re doing a training camp,” he said. “At the lake. Just a few days. Practice and rest.”

Y/N blinked. “Okay…”

“The team wants to know if you’ll come.”

“Me?”

“You’re part of the team, aren’t you?”

She flushed. “I mean… I guess. I just didn’t think—”

“You’ve been there for all our sessions,” he said. “And the others asked, too. Yunho said it wouldn’t be the same without you. So?”

She bit her lip. “I have to think about it.”

The walk home that evening felt heavier than usual.

The air was warm but not oppressive. Summer hung just on the edge of the breeze — a promise of late sunsets and the quiet stretch of weeks without lectures or stress. But Y/N couldn’t let herself enjoy it fully.

She found her father in the kitchen, a book propped on his lap, his chair angled toward the open window. His smile when he saw her never failed to lift something in her chest.

“Long day?” he asked.

She nodded and dropped her bag gently near the counter. “Kinda.”

“You okay?”

She hesitated. “The fencing team invited me to a training camp.”

His brows lifted. “That’s great.”

“It’s for a few days. At a lake. Kind of like a retreat-slash-practice-thing.”

“Even better.”

“I’m not sure if I should go.”

“Why not?”

She didn’t answer right away.

He put the book aside, the rustling of pages the only sound in the room. Then he met her eyes — calm, understanding, patient.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “You don’t have to stay behind for me.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he interrupted gently. “You always do.”

Her throat tightened. “It’s not a sacrifice. I want to be here.”

“And I want you to live. Have friends. Experiences. You’re young. You’ve spent too many years worrying about me, hiding yourself.”

Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes. “You’re my dad.”

“And you’re my daughter,” he said. “The light of my life. And I don’t want to be the reason you miss out.”

“I just—what if something happens?”

“Then I’ll call you,” he smiled. “But nothing’s going to happen.”

She stepped forward and knelt beside his chair, resting her head on his arm.

“I miss Mom.”

“I know.”

“She’d want me to go, wouldn’t she?”

“She’d pack your bag herself.”

Y/N laughed, watery and soft.

“Go,” he said. “Swim in the lake. Sit under the stars. Let yourself have something good.”

She nodded, silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

The next morning, she walked into the gym with her bag slung over her shoulder and handed Seonghwa a signed consent form.

“I’m in,” she said.

A flicker of a smile — rare and warm — appeared on his lips.

“I’m glad.”

Seonghwa liked quiet mornings.

He liked the way sunlight cut through the blinds, how everything felt softer — quieter — before the world fully woke up. But this morning wasn’t quiet.

It was noisy.

And it was Yunho’s fault.

“Bro,” Yunho grinned, tossing his overnight bag into the luggage compartment of the chartered bus, “we’re getting a lake, freedom from classes, and good food? This is heaven.”

Mingi groaned dramatically. “Only if we don’t die from Hongjoong’s playlist on the ride there.”

“I heard that,” Hongjoong replied from the front, already claiming the aux cord like a weapon.

Seonghwa offered a small smile, slinging his own bag inside the hold. Then he looked up.

And paused.

Y/N was walking up the sidewalk, slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed from the early sun. She wore simple jeans and a soft oversized sweatshirt, her long hair braided loosely over one shoulder. She dragged her rolling suitcase with one hand and clutched her coffee in the other.

She looked… bright.

Comfortable.

Radiant in the way people often missed because they didn’t bother looking.

“You made it,” he said when she got close.

“Barely,” she puffed, “I overslept. Again.”

He reached out, gently taking her suitcase to load it for her. “It’s fine. You’re here.”

Their eyes met. And something warm curled in his chest.

The seating on the bus wasn’t assigned, but the fencing team had their rituals.

Hongjoong and Mingi sprawled across the back row. Yunho, Jongho, and Wooyoung claimed the row behind the emergency exit — apparently the “best legroom.”

Which left Seonghwa with a window seat near the front.

And Y/N standing beside him, scanning the aisles.

“Anyone sitting here?” she asked, gesturing to the seat next to him.

“No,” he said, perhaps too quickly. “You can.”

She smiled and slid in, clutching her coffee cup in both hands like a shield.

The bus engine roared to life.

They rolled out of the campus parking lot to the sound of loud chatter, groggy laughter, and the opening chords of a 90s throwback playlist.

An hour passed.

The conversation around them dimmed as more students dozed off. Outside, the highway had softened into countryside — open fields, tree-lined roads, and the occasional flash of a lake through the trees.

Seonghwa had half a mind to close his eyes.

And then it happened.

He felt a gentle weight press against his shoulder.

Y/N.

Fast asleep.

Her head leaned lightly against him, the curve of her cheek nestled into his upper arm, her lips parted slightly with each soft breath. Her braid had loosened a bit during the ride, a few strands falling against her face.

He froze.

Utterly.

Completely.

Froze.

His brain went quiet. His heart didn’t.

He didn’t dare move. Not even to shift his weight. Not even to exhale too hard.

Because… this?

This was perfect.

Snap.

He blinked.

Snap.

Again?

“What are you—” Seonghwa turned his head sharply.

Yunho stood in the aisle with his phone raised like a proud dad.

“You looked too soft to resist,” Yunho whispered.

Behind him, Wooyoung grinned. “You’re practically glowing.”

Seonghwa opened his mouth to argue.

“Bro,” Jongho added from two rows back, “you look like you just saw heaven.”

“Shut up,” Seonghwa whispered.

“Are you blushing?” Wooyoung gasped.

Yunho looked delighted. “He is. He is!”

Seonghwa glared — or tried to. “If you wake her up—”

“We won’t,” Yunho said. “But the moment she wakes up, I’m showing her that photo.”

“I will break your phone.”

“No you won’t,” Yunho replied cheerfully, already backing away.

Despite the teasing, Seonghwa didn’t move.

Not when her head shifted slightly and settled more fully against him.

Not when her hand slipped across the empty space and lightly grazed his arm.

He didn’t dare disturb it — the moment, the feeling, the quiet permission to be close.

And when he finally did close his eyes, he did it smiling.

By the time their bus pulled into the lakeside training facility, the grounds were already buzzing with activity. Tents lined the perimeter of the open-air fencing arena, and teams in matching warm-up jackets moved like swarms — laughing, stretching, warming up, or already sparring casually beneath the canopy.

Y/N stepped off the bus first, her eyes wide at the sight of the glimmering lake in the background and the mid-morning sun bouncing off foils in midair.

“This is… way more intense than I imagined,” she murmured.

“It always is,” Seonghwa said beside her, his arms crossed loosely. “Everyone tries to outshine each other from day one.”

She looked up at him. “And what about your team?”

He smirked. “We don’t need to try.”

Behind them, Mingi called out, “He means we already outshine everyone.”

Yunho leaned close to Y/N. “We let him pretend he’s humble.”

She giggled, and Seonghwa caught himself smiling before he could stop.

They settled into their shared lodging — two cabins nestled under tall pines. One for the fencing team, one for support staff and assistants. Y/N shared her space with the female coach and two girls from another team who had arrived earlier that morning.

After unpacking, the team assembled at the training arena for their first round of warm-ups.

That’s when he noticed him.

Tall, fit, and overly confident — the guy from Kyungdae’s team. His name was Daehyun, apparently, and he had one of those smiles: smooth, easy, practiced.

And right now, that smile was directed at Y/N.

She stood at the sidelines, notebook in hand, watching Hongjoong’s footwork. She didn’t notice Daehyun approach — not until he leaned in a little and said something that made her blink.

“Oh, um… thank you?” she answered, clearly confused.

Seonghwa couldn’t hear what Daehyun had said, but he didn’t need to. The way the guy tilted his head, the slight lean in his posture — it wasn’t hard to guess.

And she had no idea.

Y/N just nodded, her expression polite but distracted as she returned her focus to the sparring match. Daehyun seemed amused and wandered off after a few seconds, clearly not discouraged.

From across the arena, Yunho elbowed Seonghwa.

“Your jaw’s a little tight there, Captain.”

Seonghwa didn’t look at him. “It’s nothing.”

“Ohhh,” Mingi drawled. “So we did see that?”

“I didn’t see anything,” Seonghwa said quickly.

Wooyoung joined in. “That guy had no shame. He walked up like she was the only person here.”

“Technically,” Jongho said, “she kinda is. You see any other assistants that pretty?”

Seonghwa glared at him. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m not wrong though,” Jongho muttered under his breath.

The group exchanged knowing looks.

“She didn’t even register it,” Yunho chuckled. “She just blinked and went back to watching Hongjoong.”

“Classic,” Mingi said.

Seonghwa finally spoke, his voice quieter now. “She probably gets that kind of attention all the time. She just doesn’t see it.”

“You mean you didn’t see it until recently,” Wooyoung smirked.

He didn’t answer that.

Because it was true.

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The fire crackled gently in the middle of the open space, casting a flickering orange glow on the circle of folding chairs and tree stumps gathered around it. The sky had deepened into twilight, stars beginning to peek through the soft hues of violet and navy, and the smell of roasted marshmallows and pine lingered in the air.

Y/N sat with a warm drink between her palms, legs crossed beneath her, soaking in the rare peace of it all. Laughter echoed around the fire — teams mingled freely now, the initial tension of competition replaced by shared stories, harmless teasing, and light-hearted chaos.

Mingi was telling an overdramatic story about Yunho nearly falling into the lake earlier, complete with sound effects and wild hand gestures.

Even Seonghwa laughed at that one, the lines of his face softening, though he sat a little further back — quieter, as always.

Y/N caught herself glancing at him a few times.

She didn’t mean to.

He just… stood out.

Not just because of his looks (though he did look maddeningly good in the firelight), but because of how composed he was. Like a silent lighthouse among all the waves of noise.

She looked away before he could meet her gaze.

And that’s when Daehyun appeared again.

He dropped into the seat next to her, holding out a skewer with two toasted marshmallows. “One of them’s slightly burned,” he said. “I figured you might be the type to like that.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “Oh. Thank you.”

He grinned, leaning slightly toward her. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

She glanced down at the marshmallows. “I guess so.”

He chuckled. “You know, I noticed you right away earlier. You’ve got this calm energy. It’s… kind of hard to ignore.”

“Oh,” she said, cheeks warming, but not entirely sure why. “That’s nice.”

He looked at her like he expected something more. When she didn’t respond, he nudged her playfully. “You always this hard to impress?”

“I’m not trying to be,” she said sincerely. “I’m just… not used to people saying things like that.”

“You should be,” he said, his voice dropping a little. “Because I have a feeling I’m not the only one who noticed.”

Y/N gave him a polite, puzzled smile, trying to understand what he meant — but before she could think too hard about it, Wooyoung called for a group photo and people started rearranging themselves.

She shifted over to give space, brushing her hands off on her jacket, still thinking about the conversation — or rather, trying to understand it.

She didn’t notice Seonghwa watching.

From across the fire, Seonghwa narrowed his eyes.

Daehyun had barely left Y/N’s side since they’d all sat down. And he was too close. Laughing too loudly. Leaning in too far.

She didn’t seem to mind — but she also didn’t seem to realize.

Which was, strangely, worse.

“He’s doing it again,” Wooyoung muttered beside him, biting into a marshmallow.

Seonghwa didn’t respond.

Yunho leaned back, his gaze following Daehyun. “He’s bold, huh?”

Mingi snorted. “Too bold.”

Seonghwa set down his cup and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Jongho asked.

“Nowhere,” Seonghwa muttered. “Stretching my legs.”

But really, he just needed a break. And maybe, a reason to not break Daehyun’s face.

Y/N found herself standing near the edge of the fire circle, watching a group trying (and failing) to toast marshmallows without burning them to a crisp.

She took a slow breath, then turned — and nearly bumped into Mingi.

“Oh — sorry!”

“No worries,” he said brightly. Then his voice lowered. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, though she furrowed her brows a little. “Just… tired, I think.”

He nodded, then gave her a lopsided smile. “You know that guy’s been flirting with you, right?”

She blinked. “Who?”

Mingi blinked back. “The guy who brought you marshmallows. Daehyun.”

“What? No.” She laughed. “He was just being friendly.”

Mingi chuckled and ruffled her hair with one big hand. “Y/N… it’s called flirting. And you’re allowed to accept it, you know?”

She flushed. “I just don’t… I don’t think about that stuff.”

“Well, maybe you should,” he said gently. “You’re pretty. Like, really pretty. Smart, funny, and kind, too. Of course people are going to flirt with you.”

She looked down. “That’s… hard to believe.”

“Believe it anyway,” Mingi said, then leaned in. “Some people might not say it out loud, but they notice. Trust me.”

“Thanks,” she said softly.

“Anytime,” he grinned. “Now go grab another marshmallow before Wooyoung eats the entire bag.”

Across the fire, Seonghwa saw her smile.

He saw Mingi ruffle her hair and whisper something to her — and the way she blushed, a real one this time, soft and unguarded.

And he realized something dangerous was growing in his chest.

Jealousy, yes.

But also something far more terrifying:

He liked her. Really liked her. And it wasn’t going away.

The campfire burned low now, glowing amber and gold in the center of the group. The heat had eased from earlier, leaving behind a comfortable chill that wrapped around everyone like a shared secret. Laughter still bubbled in waves, drinks passed in mugs and paper cups, and blankets were tugged a little tighter around shoulders as the night deepened.

Someone — maybe Yunho or one of the girls from the Jeonju team — suggested a classic campfire game: everyone would go around and say their “type.”

The reactions were immediate.

Groans. Cheers. Some dramatic sighs.

“Oh come on,” Wooyoung grinned. “You all want to know anyway.”

“Yes!” one of the girls from the female fencing team beamed. “We definitely want to hear what he says.” She gestured playfully to Seonghwa, who blinked like a deer in headlights.

Y/N shrunk a little into her hoodie, hoping not to be called on. Games like this weren’t exactly her thing — not because she was shy, but because she’d never had a good answer to give.

They started from the left.

Yunho cracked a joke. “Tall, soft, laughs at all my dumb puns.”

Jongho rolled his eyes. “Someone who doesn’t need to laugh at them. Smart, confident, low drama.”

The girls added their thoughts one by one. Some described looks, others went for personality. Mingi got dramatic with hand gestures, listing half a dozen things in rapid-fire.

And then it came to Seonghwa.

Everything quieted.

Y/N glanced at him, curious — even the wind seemed to hush as he looked at the flames for a moment.

“I guess…” he began slowly, “I like someone who’s… thoughtful. Someone who notices the small things. Someone who’s steady, kind, without needing to be loud. She’s smart — probably doesn’t realize how smart. And beautiful, not in a flashy way, but… you just want to keep looking at her. Like she glows without trying to.”

His voice had softened by the end.

Across the fire, the others shared a collective glance.

The girls from the other team all exchanged wide-eyed looks.

Everyone knew.

Everyone — except Y/N.

She smiled faintly, thinking he was probably describing some elegant, soft-spoken type. The kind of girl who always had it together. Definitely not her.

It wasn’t until someone said, “Your turn,” that she blinked and realized they meant her.

“Me?”

“Of course!” one of the Jeonju girls grinned. “Everyone has a type!”

“I…” Y/N hesitated, heat rising in her cheeks. “I don’t know if I do.”

“Oh come on,” Wooyoung teased. “You’ve never thought about it?”

“No, I mean…” She took a breath, then spoke honestly, “I never really thought about that kind of thing, because… I never thought someone would be interested in me like that. So I guess I didn’t let myself think about it.”

The silence that followed was different from before. It was heavy, but not uncomfortable. Just… quiet.

Then one of the girls said gently, “Well, they should be. You’re beautiful.”

Another murmured agreement. “Really.”

Y/N smiled, surprised and touched. She didn’t know how to answer that, so she just said, “Thanks,” and looked back at the fire.

A few meters away, Seonghwa was watching her again — but this time, with something soft and unreadable in his gaze.

“She really didn’t know,” Yunho whispered.

“I told you,” Wooyoung muttered back. “She never catches it.”

“She thinks he sees her as a teammate,” Jongho added. “That’s it.”

A girl from the Jeonju team leaned closer to Mingi. “Are they… together?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Not yet.”

“Seriously?” another said. “That guy just described her like a poem.”

“Yeah,” Yunho said with a small laugh. “He’s a poetic guy. Just also emotionally constipated.”

They all snickered.

“She’s good for him,” one of the girls added. “He looks… softer with her. Like, human.”

They looked back toward the fire.

And sure enough, Seonghwa had risen, following after Y/N as she walked away toward the lake’s edge, cup still in hand.

The stars above the lake were impossibly clear.

Y/N had wandered just far enough to stand away from the firelight, letting the breeze cool her face. The water was glassy, and she could still hear laughter from behind her.

She didn’t hear him approach.

“It’s cold,” Seonghwa said quietly, holding out a hoodie.

She turned, surprised, but took it. It smelled like him — laundry soap and something earthy, almost like cedar.

“Thanks.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. Then:

“Do you really believe that?”

She looked up at him, confused. “Believe what?”

“That no one would be interested in you.”

“Oh,” she said softly.

He looked at her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “Because that’s… not true. At all.”

She looked away, unsure what to say.

“I know it’s not easy to see yourself how others do,” he continued, voice still soft. “But I think… if you saw what I see, you’d never question it again.”

Y/N blinked slowly, heart beating too loud.

He didn’t step closer.

He didn’t reach for her.

He just stood there beside her, calm and warm and sincere.

They stayed like that — under the stars, above the lake, hearts too full of questions neither of them had the courage to voice.

Yet.

The sun was already high when the tournament began, casting sharp golden light across the lakeside gym. It wasn’t a major competition — more of a casual meet-up between teams to showcase their skill and spark a little healthy rivalry — but there was still an excited buzz in the air.

Y/N found a spot at the edge of the gym, clipboard in hand, helping the coach manage the warm-ups and match tracking. She was focused. Mostly.

Until Seonghwa stepped onto the floor.

He stood with a quiet confidence, body tall and poised in his fencing gear. When he adjusted his mask, pulling it over his head, Y/N caught herself holding her breath. The way he moved was fluid, almost like he was dancing — sharp, elegant, precise. Every motion he made seemed practiced but effortlessly graceful.

When he lunged, it felt like the room tilted with him.

“Hey.” A whisper from her side made her jump. Mingi.

He leaned down next to her ear, grinning. “You’ve been watching him like he’s in a drama.”

Y/N blinked. “I’m just—watching the match.”

“Mmhm,” Yeosang hummed from her other side. “Totally. Not watching Seonghwa, just the match.”

“You’re both annoying,” she muttered, cheeks warm.

Mingi snickered. “You’ve got a huge crush, huh?”

She stayed quiet.

They didn’t press her, just exchanged a knowing look and let her watch the rest of the match in peace.

The tournament wrapped up by late afternoon. Most of the students and coaches headed out to the lake to cool off. Y/N offered to stay behind with the coach to clean up the gym. After a while, she was left alone, sweeping up the edge of the mats, humming quietly to herself.

A pair of footsteps echoed behind her.

She turned — and of course, it was Seonghwa.

“You stayed behind?” she asked.

He shrugged, picking up a pile of used towels and dropping them into the laundry bin. “Figured you could use some help.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

They worked in a comfortable silence, the kind they’d grown used to over the weeks. He wasn’t uptight around her anymore — not exactly warm, but less guarded. She’d started to notice the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention.

Or maybe she’d just started to hope he looked at her.

After folding the last of the gear bags, he turned to her.

“Do you want to try it?”

She blinked. “Try what?”

“Fencing. Just… one basic move. I can show you.”

She hesitated. “I don’t have a mask or gear.”

“It’s just the form,” he said, stepping closer and picking up a practice foil. “No contact. Just footwork and stance.”

“Okay,” she said before she could overthink it.

He handed her the foil and moved behind her, adjusting her grip gently.

“You want to hold it like this,” he murmured, his breath brushing her ear.

Her skin tingled.

“Now your stance—here,” he said, placing a hand on her waist and nudging her gently to the side. “Turn just a little…”

His hand lingered, just briefly, but long enough for her heart to thud unevenly in her chest.

“Okay. Lunge forward.”

She tried, a little awkwardly, and stumbled.

He caught her with one hand on her elbow and the other on her back.

They were close now. Too close. His hands steadied her, but he didn’t pull away.

She looked up, lips parted, and realized he was staring.

At her mouth.

And then his eyes flicked up to hers, wide and uncertain.

Neither of them moved.

Neither of them breathed.

His face tilted — just a little.

Their noses almost brushed.

“Hey!”

They sprang apart like startled cats.

Wooyoung’s voice echoed from the gym doors. “You two coming to the lake or what?! It’s getting dark!”

Y/N turned away quickly, pretending to fuss with the foil. Her face was burning.

“Y-yeah!” Seonghwa called back. His voice cracked slightly. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

They didn’t look at each other right away.

But as they packed the last of the gear in silence, something new buzzed between them. Something neither of them could name yet, but both of them felt.

A distance had shrunk — not erased completely, but pulled tighter. And now, every step forward would feel different.

The sun had already slipped behind the trees, leaving streaks of lilac and orange in the sky as the evening settled over the lake. A few portable lights strung up along the edge of the campfire area flickered on, casting a warm, golden glow over the faces gathered around.

Laughter rang through the group, the mix of fencing teams — ATEEZ, the girls’ team, and the others — sprawled out on logs and camp chairs. The sound of marshmallows roasting, soft guitar strumming, and rustling leaves made the entire scene feel like it belonged in a movie.

Seonghwa sat a little removed from the others, legs stretched out in front of him, arms loosely crossed. He looked effortlessly composed — as always — but Wooyoung, sitting just beside him, grinned knowingly.

“So…” Wooyoung leaned closer, elbow nudging him. “Are you going to tell us what that was?”

Seonghwa blinked. “What?”

“In the gym. With Y/N.” Wooyoung smirked. “Don’t play dumb, hyung. I saw that little fencing lesson. You two were this close to kissing.”

Seonghwa’s ears flushed a deep red. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh really? Because from where I stood, it looked very exactly like that.” Wooyoung leaned back dramatically. “Should’ve brought popcorn.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa hissed under his breath, shooting a quick glance toward Y/N.

She was sitting a few feet away, knees drawn up to her chest, gaze fixed out over the still lake water. Her expression was unreadable — calm, maybe a little sad. She wasn’t paying attention to them at all.

Seonghwa exhaled. “She didn’t even notice.”

“She definitely noticed,” Wooyoung whispered. “She just hasn’t figured out what it means yet.”

Seonghwa didn’t reply.

He wasn’t good at this. At feelings. At being so aware of someone that even her silence echoed in his chest. What scared him more than anything… was how badly he’d wanted to kiss her.

She stared at the lake and didn’t hear a single word being said around her.

The stars were starting to show in the indigo sky, and the moonlight glittered over the surface of the water like scattered pearls.

But her thoughts were still in the gym. In the moment Seonghwa’s hand had steadied her waist. The way he looked at her, so close, like he was about to—

But he hadn’t. Had he?

Her fingers twisted around the hem of her hoodie. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it was just… a moment. Training. Proximity.

But he hadn’t moved right away. And the look in his eyes…

Her stomach fluttered in confusion.

He wasn’t like that with anyone else. But that didn’t mean anything either. Maybe he was just kind.

Or maybe she was hoping for something that would never be hers.

Eventually, the fire died down, and one by one, people drifted off to their shared rooms or tents. Y/N stayed behind until only a few faint embers remained. The quiet soothed her. Out here, the air was cool and smelled like pine and earth. She stood slowly, brushing off her hands, and made her way down the wooden dock that jutted out into the lake.

The water lapped gently at the sides. Fireflies flickered lazily through the reeds.

The moon hung low over the lake, casting long ribbons of silver across the surface. Crickets sang in the bushes nearby, and the distant laughter of teammates echoed faintly from the cabins. But here, at the edge of the water, everything felt quiet. Still.

She sat at the very edge of the dock, shoes off, legs dangling just above the surface. Her thoughts were still tangled and restless. Her feelings, too.

Y/N pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin there, watching the ripples roll gently in the moonlight. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting alone. She only knew she needed space — to think, to breathe, to try and understand the feeling fluttering behind her ribs.

Footsteps behind her made her stiffen slightly. But then she heard his voice, soft and unsure.

“Can I sit?”

She turned her head slowly, already recognizing him by the way his shadow moved. Seonghwa.

“Sure,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

He lowered himself to the sand beside her, close — but not too close. The scent of him, warm and faintly citrusy from the soap he used, lingered between them. They sat like that for a moment, listening to the night.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said suddenly.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“At the gym… earlier.” He kept his eyes on the water. “When I—when I got close. I should’ve been more careful. I didn’t mean to—”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” she interrupted softly.

That made him glance at her.

She offered a small smile. “I felt… safe. With you.”

The words seemed to settle between them, soft and quiet like the waves.

Seonghwa looked at her, really looked at her, and something shifted in his expression. Not surprise, not confusion. Just something warmer, deeper.

He hesitated. Then, slowly, he reached out and touched her hand — not grabbing it, just brushing against her fingers, waiting.

When she didn’t pull away, he intertwined their fingers carefully.

“I really wanted to kiss you,” he said, voice barely audible over the lake.

Y/N’s breath caught.

She turned her head toward him, surprised, but what stunned her more than his words was the faint blush dusting his cheeks. Seonghwa — usually composed, reserved — looked like he was scrambling for control of his thoughts.

“I’m not… good with things like this,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “Emotions. Words. I’ve always been better with focus and logic, not… feelings.”

His thumb brushed her knuckle gently. “I’ve never really had a relationship that… mattered. Not like this. Not where I couldn’t stop thinking about someone.”

Y/N’s throat tightened, but she stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“I kept trying to brush it off,” he continued. “Telling myself I was just being protective, or respectful, or grateful. But it’s more than that.”

He paused, looking at their joined hands like he needed to be sure they were real.

“My thoughts… they keep circling around you. When I’m practicing. When I walk across campus. Even when I’m quiet, you’re still there. And I don’t think it’s just admiration. I think—no, I know that what I feel is love. Real, romantic love.”

Her heart thundered in her chest.

“I’m not saying this to pressure you,” he added quickly. “I just… couldn’t keep it in anymore. I don’t expect anything from you. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. But I needed you to know.”

He turned to face her fully now, his hand trembling just slightly in hers.

Y/N looked into his eyes — dark, honest, wide with nervous vulnerability — and for the first time, truly saw how much courage it had taken for him to say that.

“I—” she started, then stopped, unsure of what words could capture the storm inside her.

Seonghwa didn’t push.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, blinking quickly. “I’m just… surprised.”

He gave a small nod. “I figured you might be.”

“Not because I think it’s impossible,” she added quickly. “Just… I didn’t think you could ever feel that way. About someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” His brow furrowed.

Y/N laughed softly, the sound almost bitter. “You’re… you. And I’m just me.”

“That’s exactly why I like you.”

She looked at him again, startled.

“I see you,” Seonghwa said gently. “All of you. And I think you’re… remarkable.”

The silence returned, heavier now — not with uncertainty, but with something full and quiet and waiting.

Seonghwa didn’t press further. He only gave her hand a small, reassuring squeeze before letting it go and looking back out over the water.

And Y/N sat there beside him, heart trembling, trying to process that the person she’d fallen in love from a distance might have been watching her just as closely all along.

Y/N stared at the lake for a long moment, Seonghwa’s words echoing in her ears like ripples across the water. She could still feel the warmth of his fingers on her hand, still see the soft blush on his face, still hear the nervous sincerity in his voice.

He really said it.

He really meant it.

Her chest swelled with something that felt like relief and disbelief tangled together. Maybe it had always been there — the hope — but hearing it aloud made it real. Made him real in a new way.

And still, he sat beside her, respectful and still, looking out at the moonlit lake like he’d just exposed his entire heart and was ready for it to sink.

Y/N turned toward him slowly.

“Seonghwa,” she whispered.

He glanced at her, and in the dim light she saw the tension behind his eyes — the quiet fear that maybe he’d said too much.

But she reached out and touched his arm lightly. “You’re not the only one who’s been thinking too much.”

His breath caught.

“I didn’t realize it at first,” she said, voice shaky with nerves. “I didn’t let myself realize it. I kept telling myself you were just kind… just careful. That someone like you couldn’t see someone like me.”

“Y/N…”

“I thought I was imagining the way you looked at me sometimes. Or the way my chest felt full whenever I was around you. But I wasn’t.” She took a breath, heart pounding. “Because I feel it too. I feel everything you just said. All of it.”

Seonghwa blinked like he didn’t quite believe her. “You do?”

She laughed — soft and a little overwhelmed. “Yes. I do.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was filled with a quiet kind of joy, stunned and unspoken, like standing on the edge of a world neither of them expected to find.

Seonghwa turned to her fully now, his hand rising instinctively like he wanted to hold her but didn’t want to assume.

“Can I—?”

She nodded, heart thudding.

His hand found hers again, warm and strong, and he let out the tiniest laugh — quiet and stunned, like he was breathing for the first time in weeks.

“I thought I ruined everything,” he said softly. “That I’d scared you off.”

“You didn’t,” she whispered. “You just… surprised me.”

He smiled then — wide and full of something gentle and luminous.

And then the air changed.

The soft quiet between them thickened, warmer somehow, electric and still.

Seonghwa’s gaze dropped to her lips for a second — so brief she almost missed it.

She leaned in just slightly, just enough for him to know she wasn’t afraid.

And Seonghwa… Seonghwa closed the distance.

Their lips met in the faintest brush — tentative, soft, like a question. Then again, firmer, as if answering it. His hand slid to her cheek, cradling her with care, and Y/N felt her heart swell until it might burst.

There was nothing rushed about it.

No desperation.

Just the quiet wonder of two people finally seeing each other clearly.

When they pulled back, Seonghwa rested his forehead gently against hers.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered, breath shaky.

Y/N smiled, eyes closing for a moment as she held onto the warmth of him. “Me too.”

They sat like that for a long time, hands still intertwined, hearts still racing — two people no longer wondering.

Just feeling. Just beginning.

The morning after the lakeside confession was calm, wrapped in the kind of golden haze only lazy summer mornings could bring. Birds chirped softly from the nearby trees, and the lake shimmered under the rising sun as if it too carried the secret of the night before.

Y/N woke up smiling. Not wide, not dramatic — just a quiet curve of her lips that lingered. The memory of Seonghwa’s soft kiss, his gentle words, the way his hand had found hers and stayed… it played like a song on repeat in the back of her mind.

Seonghwa, on the other hand, was uncharacteristically floaty.

He wasn’t being overly obvious. He still greeted the team with his usual polite nods and calm demeanor. But the change was there — subtle, sure, but undeniable. There was a softness in his eyes, a looseness in his shoulders, and he smiled a little easier when his gaze found hers across the morning buzz of breakfast.

The rest of the Team noticed first.

“Did Seonghwa just… smile at his toast?” Wooyoung whispered loudly to San.

“He hummed,” San confirmed, wide-eyed. “Like… actually hummed.”

Hongjoong squinted. “When was the last time Seonghwa looked this serene? Like he just got back from a meditation retreat and not a fencing bootcamp?”

Then they noticed Y/N.

She walked in a few minutes later in her oversized hoodie, hair slightly damp from her shower, cheeks still flushed from the summer warmth. She greeted the group shyly, but her eyes flickered toward Seonghwa, and that soft little smile bloomed again.

Seonghwa looked up — and that was it. The look he gave her was different. Fond. Familiar.

And then it happened.

As they sat together on one of the picnic benches, leaning in to look at something on Seonghwa’s phone, she laughed at one of his rare but endearingly bad jokes. And before he even realized it — Seonghwa leaned in and pressed a light, absentminded kiss to her cheek.

It was instinct.

Natural.

He didn’t even realize what he’d done until she froze slightly and turned to look at him, wide-eyed.

“Oh—” he started, face already coloring with alarm, “I—sorry, I didn’t mean—”

But it was too late.

“OH MY GOD.” Wooyoung was the first to shout.

“DID HE JUST—” San gasped, nearly choking on his juice.

“HE DID,” Yeosang cackled.

Even the other teams turned to look at the commotion.

Seonghwa groaned and buried his face in his hands. “I genuinely forgot where we were.”

Y/N, meanwhile, had gone from pink to deep scarlet. Her eyes darted around in disbelief, and she tried to shrink into her hoodie.

“You two are so obvious,” Mingi said, grinning like a proud older brother.

“Honestly,” Jongho chimed in, deadpan. “We were waiting for this.”

“Wait,” one of the girls from the visiting team asked, blinking. “So… are you two dating?”

Seonghwa looked at Y/N, who looked back at him, both still mid-panic.

“Yrs?” he said sheepishly.

More gasps.

More laughter.

Y/N pressed her hands to her cheeks, laughing despite herself. “Can we not do this in front of everyone?”

“Oh no,” Wooyoung smirked, leaning in. “Now that you’ve joined the ‘caught in the act’ club, there’s no escape.”

Seonghwa tried to glare, but his blush betrayed him. “You all are impossible.”

“It’s love, hyung,” San sing-songed. “Let it bloom.”

Y/N let out a helpless giggle and reached under the table to gently bump her knee against Seonghwa’s. It was the quietest thank you. For being brave. For showing her affection even when the world was watching.

He peeked at her through his fingers, smile blooming slowly again.

And just like that, the teasing softened into fondness. They weren’t just laughing at them — they were celebrating. Because for the first time in a while, Seonghwa looked happy.

And Y/N looked like someone who finally felt seen.

●●●°°•♡♡•°°••••♡♡°°○○••●●°°♡♡♡••○●●○♡

Author’s Note 🖤

That’s a wrap on Seonghwa’s story (for now 👀).

So… who should come next?

Yeosang, Jongho, or Hongjoong?

Let me know which member you'd love to see in the spotlight — and if you’ve got any favorite tropes, I’m all ears!

Also, I really enjoyed writing in the sports AU setting — and honestly, I’m this close to turning it into a whole series.

ATEEZ × Sports = chaos, sweat, and unexpected soft moments. Who’s in?

Thanks so much for reading and supporting all the stories so far — you’re the best 💫

Love,

mingiatz

#8 makes 1 team #ateez #ateez fanfic #atzblogging #ateez fanfiction #ateez fic #fanfction ateez #ateez seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa #seonghwa oneshot #ateez oneshot #ateez x reader #seonghwa x y/n #ateez x y/n

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lauren-likes-to-type · 11 months ago

Text

Nurture

[MLP Equestria Girls] Sunset Shimmer x Female Reader

Summary: After an incident, Sunset is there to keep you calm and help you tend to your injury.

Word Count: 3.05k Content + Warnings: Reader breaks a bone, cussing, talk of pain killers, talk of fighting Category: Slight Angst + Fluff || One-shot

[A/N]: I've only ever broken my toe and fractured my hip before (knock on wood) and never went to the hospital for either, so I have no idea if the description of Reader's broken leg or the way I wrote the treatment at the hospital are accurate lol. I plan on answering another request, then writing for Val Ortiz, then writing for Adagio next.

Enjoy!

You weren’t sure how you managed to let Rainbow Dash convince you to play a round of soccer with her after classes, but there you were: with your jacket tied around your waist and your hair pushed back out of your face as much as it could be, you stood your ground on the field and stared her down. She had dragged the others along with her, including Pinkie Pie, who was given the whistle. As you waited for her to blow the whistle and start the match, you snuck a quick glance over at your girlfriend, Sunset, watching contentedly from the bleachers.

She shot you a smile when you waved to her and returned the motion. Her hand fell back into her lap when you turned to face your opponent again. Finally, Pinkie blew the whistle and yelled a quick, “go!” in which Rainbow, who was granted the running start and first kick, struck the ball forward and chased quickly behind it. You jumped at the speed of it before turning to run after her, doing your best to catch up and kick the ball away from her. You weren’t able to succeed, however, and she almost instantly scored a point for herself.

“Point for Rainbow,” Pinkie hollered. You groaned, immediately knowing that you weren’t going to win against her. Still, you wanted to at least make one goal.

When you turned to look over at Sunset, you saw her snickering a bit before she sat up straight and gave you two thumbs up. You rolled your eyes at her laughing, but still smiled and stuck your thumb back up in her direction in return.

After catching your breath, you returned to your previous spot on the field and waited once again for the whistle to start the match. Again, Rainbow kicked the ball almost directly into the goal just a moment after, leaving you dumbfounded from her speed. This continued for a few more rounds.

The final round, Rainbow allowed you to kick the ball off first. The shrill scream of the whistle rang out, and you took off toward the small ball, kicking it immediately toward your goal and somehow managing to maneuver around Rainbow and make it close to the goal. You smiled, surprised with yourself, and readied your leg in the air behind you to punt the ball into the goal.

Just as you let your leg swing forward, you watched as Rainbow’s leg flew in from the side, her heel making contact with the side of your shin and driving into it at full force. Instantly, you heard a loud, sickening crack accompanied by a sharp pain bolting through your veins.

The ball completely forgotten, you collapsed to the floor and clutched your leg into your chest, letting out a cry and curling into yourself. “Shit!” Rainbow froze in place for a brief moment before crouching down beside you and gripping your shoulder, trying to help you sit up again. From across the field, you could barely hear the sound of Sunset calling your name and thundering towards you through the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

“Oh, fuck,” Sunset muttered under her breath as she kneeled down beside you and propped your head up against her lap. “Rainbow, why did you do that?” She hollered, clutching you closely to her protectively as she barked insults at Rainbow for being so careless. Rainbow stammered, trying to explain her mistake before ultimately giving up and turning to you, blurting apology after apology. You groaned, forcing yourself to sit up enough to lean against Sunset’s shoulder instead, wincing when she squeezed you against her and looked down at your leg.

Bent halfway out of place, she knew instantly that it was broken. Her lips tugged back into a grimace at the sight before she sighed and fished her keys out of her pocket, tossing them in Rainbow’s direction. Confused, she looked up at Sunset. “Go start my car. I’m going to drive her to the hospital.” She nodded without argument and stood, turning on her heel and dashing off toward the parking lot on the other side of the school.

“Hey,” Sunset partially whispered, moving to sit in front of you once she was sure you could sit up on your own. “It’s going to be okay, alright? We’re gonna get you to the hospital, and you’ll feel better there once they get your leg back into place.” You nodded, whimpering and wiping at the few stray tears that dripped from your eyes.

She scooted a bit closer and lifted your leg. You yelped from the motion, prompting her to blurt out a quick apology before she rested it against her lap in an attempt to elevate it. “You’re gonna be okay.” Her hand drove forward and took yours, squeezing it gently as she did her best to get you to look her in the eye. “Breathe. I’m going to pick you up so I can carry you to the car, but you have to calm down a bit first,” she explained, keeping her tone low and soothing. “Just breathe with me.”

You nodded again, still too shocked from everything to speak properly. Your eyes trained themselves on her as she put a hand to her chest, making it easier to see it rising and falling with each breath. As she sucked in a breath, you did the same, held it when she did, and released it at the same time as her. You continued to mirror her for a few minutes until you ultimately managed to breathe normally again. She wiped the rest of your tears dry, hooked one arm around your torso, then one under your legs.

“I’m not going to lie, this is probably going to hurt. You ready?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded at your confirmation and hoisted you up, flinching with guilt when you hissed loudly and tensed up. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. Turning slowly, she walked toward the parking lot, meeting Rainbow halfway there. “Why don’t I come with you guys? I feel bad for all of this,” she suggested, earning a sneer from Sunset, who shook her head and continued walking. “I think you’re kind of the last person she wants to see when she has to get her leg popped back into place,” she growled. Rainbow frowned, but she didn’t argue.

“Sunset, she didn’t mean to,” you piped up only a moment later. “I’m not mad at her.” She looked down at you in her arms, staring at you with wide eyes as if you were crazy. “What? How could you not be mad at her? She just broke your leg!” “She didn’t mean to.” “So what?” She was ready to continue, seemingly angered at the situation for you, though she stopped herself upon seeing your pain-riddled features: eyes clenched shut, brows pinched together, and lips pulled back in a scowl. “Sorry,” she repeated softly.

After carrying you around to the passenger side of her car, she managed to pull the door open and sit you inside, sliding the chair back to give your legs enough room. Just as quickly as she had run to you on the field, she raced to the driver’s side and slipped in, shifting gears and speeding out of the parking lot.

The entire ride there was agonizing for you, though a small bit of your anxiety eroded when she took your hand into hers, a silent way of saying she was there for you. When the car rolled to a stop in the parking lot, Sunset shot out and over to pick you back up and carry you inside.

Shortly after making it inside, Sunset set you down in one of the chairs in the waiting room while she went up to the desk and explained the situation. They assured her quickly that they’d get her back to be seen shortly, and she joined you over in the seat next to you. As you waited, she repeatedly did her best to get your mind off of the pain shooting through your leg, though she didn’t fail to notice that everyone else seemed to be getting in ahead of you.

After about half an hour passed, she went back up to the front desk and asked what was taking so long. The woman running the reception up front explained that since the situation wasn’t dire, they were letting in other people before you, which only sparked fury into Sunset’s blood until it boiled. Begrudgingly, after you called her to come back and calm down, she returned to your side and grumbled a few curses under her breath about how long the entire situation was taking.

Another half hour had passed by the time Sunset lost her temper. She stormed back up to the desk yet again and fought back every urge she had to start yelling at the woman, knowing it wasn’t her fault. “Why the hell is it taking so long? My girlfriend’s in serious pain, her leg is swollen and broken, and we’ve already been waiting here for an hour! How much longer is it going to take until she can be seen? This is ridiculous,” she started, fingertips digging painfully into the countertop as she grew increasingly impatient.

The startled woman sitting on the other side of the counter held her hands up in surrender and nodded with her words, trying to deescalate the situation. “Ma’am, I understand that, but we’re low on space right now and there are other people who need to be seen first. I promise you we’re doing all we can.” Sunset grumbled and closed her eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath to calm herself before glaring at the woman again.

“Then can she at least get some pain killers or something until she can be seen?” “I’ll see what I can do.” With a scoff, she turned around and nearly dropped herself back down into the chair next to you. As you parted your lips to ask if she was okay, a nurse came by holding a small plastic cup with two pain killers in it. In her other hand, she held a small water bottle. After checking that you weren’t allergic to the specific kind she had, she handed them to you with a small smile, glancing over uneasily at Sunset.

You thanked the nurse, then nudged Sunset’s shoulder. “Thanks,” she murmured. The nurse nodded and walked away.

“Please be kind to them, okay?” You begged. “This type of job isn’t usually easy. A lot of the people who work here see some horrible things, and I really don’t want to add to it.” She glanced at you for a moment, then up at the clock on the wall, then fully turned to you again. “Is that why you’re acting like your broken leg isn’t that big of a deal?”

You shrugged. After a small pause, you nodded. “Yeah, kind of, but I’m also getting really tired now that the adrenaline is starting to wear off, so I feel more like I’m going to pass out than what I can feel because of my leg.” She frowned, brows furrowed together deeply in concern.

With a bit of a struggle, you managed to take both of the pills and finish off the bottle of water. Twenty minutes passed before they kicked in, but you couldn’t help but finally relax a little bit when a decent amount of the pain drifted away into more of a muted sensation. Sunset noticed, smiling weakly when she saw your features rest from their previously pained expression. She sighed, trying to stand from her chair to go up to the desk again, though you grabbed her by the wrist and stopped her.

“Sunset, please, just stay over here with me. I’ve been watching the other people go back before me, and the receptionist is right: they really do need to be seen before me. Three of them had to be carried in on a stretcher for god’s sake. I don’t want you to keep getting upset with the people here. I just want you to sit here with me, okay?”

Against every part of her that screamed for her to go up to the counter anyway, she listened to you with a nod and sat back down, slipping her hand into yours and lacing your fingers together. “Okay,” she whispered. When you smiled at her and shifted over to let your head fall against her shoulder, she couldn’t help but grin and tilt her own head to rest on top of yours.

For a moment, it was silent between the two of you. She made a small comment, though. “I’m so tempted to kick Rainbow’s ass when I see her again tomorrow.” You snickered and shook your head, rolling your eyes. “Please don’t. She didn’t mean to do it. Plus, we don’t need another person from our friend group coming here for a broken bone.” You thought for a moment, recalling how violent Sunset could get during fights.

“Well, we don’t need her coming here for several broken bones.”

She hummed and giggled before silence fell between you again.

You had nearly fallen asleep because of the pills by the time you were finally called back to be seen. They brought out a wheelchair, which you were helped into, and then wheeled you back into a room for x-rays to see how severe the break was. Sunset stood outside the door until she was allowed in. The moment she entered, she stood by your side as you rested as best as you could on the small bed.

Briefly after the x-rays were finished, a doctor came in and explained that the break wasn’t too bad, which you found hard to believe considering how much pain you had been feeling in the past couple of hours. Still, the doctor went on with the plan for treatment. She explained that all you would need to do is have your leg readjusted into place, then wear a cast for about two months, making sure to take it easy.

Sunset listened closely to what would be needed for treatment, making a mental list of everything she’d need to do to help you fully recover. She held your hand and never thought to complain when you squeezed it to a painful degree as they shifted the broken part of your leg back into place. The cast was molded and wrapped around your leg. You whined at how uncomfortable it was, making a comment to Sunset that you weren’t looking forward to feeling it against your skin for the next two months. She laughed softly and assured you that it was for the better.

Once you were finally discharged, you were given crutches and helped out into the waiting room again so Sunset could give her information to pay. After everything was settled, you bumped Sunset in the arm and motioned towards the same receptionist from before. She sighed and turned to her. “Sorry about earlier,” she started. “I was just really stressed out about everything. I didn’t mean to get so… aggressive.”

Surprisingly, the receptionist smiled and shook her head. “It’s alright, I completely understand. I acted the same way when my son broke his arm. This kind of stuff happens all the time, unfortunately. I’ve been through worse, so don't worry about it.” For the first time that evening, Sunset smiled at someone other than you. A few more words of parting were shared before you were led back out to the car.

The pain killers had kicked into overdrive by the time you were buckled into the passenger seat. You dozed off from the moment you could hear the comforting hum of the engine, and you didn’t wake up until you felt yourself being carried yet again. You looked around, confused, then glanced up at Sunset.

“Where are we? This isn’t my house.” She grinned weakly. “I know, but I really want to be able to keep an eye on you until those meds wear off. I’ll just let you crash at my place tonight, okay?” You nodded, too exhausted from everything to argue. Instead, you let her hold you close as she walked upstairs to her apartment, lay you down on your usual side of her bed, and essentially tuck you in for the night.

Before you could fully crash again, she briefly lifted the covers from your form to tuck a couple of pillows under your broken leg for elevation. It only took her a moment to leave the room and return with a cold glass of water, which she put on the nightstand beside you. Lazily, she climbed into her side and bundled up under the covers before pulling your head into her chest from the side.

“You okay? Do you need anything else?” Yawning, you shook your head. She hummed and nodded in response.

As your eyes fell shut and your body fell limp, you could feel Sunset shuffling around uncomfortably beside you. “What’s wrong?” You asked quietly, almost too softly for her to hear. “I’m just pissed at Rainbow Dash,” she admitted, rubbing the fatigue from her eyes. “I don’t understand why. She didn’t mean to,” you replied. “I get that, but she still should’ve been more careful. I don’t get why she has to be aggressive all the time when it comes to sports.”

You bit your tongue and smirked at that, resisting the urge to comment on her own anger issues that flared up randomly. With a bit of a strained effort, you slipped your arm beneath her and did your best to hug her close from the side, pressing a small chaste kiss to her collarbone.

“Well, then just talk to her about it tomorrow, okay? I’m sure you can work things out.” Sighing heavily, she nodded and pulled you closer, letting her own eyes close. “Yeah, okay, I guess you’re right.” For a moment, you thought she was on the verge of falling asleep, save for the feeling of her fingertips dragging themselves against your skin and tracing random patterns. She spoke up, however. “You’re gonna have to be there with me though. Otherwise I’m going to lose my cool.” You couldn’t help but let out a tired chuckle.

“Deal.”

#fluff #x reader #female reader #slight angst #angst #mlp #mlp x reader #sunset shimmer #sunset shimmer x female reader #sunset shimmer x reader #equestria girls #equestria girls x reader

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