#yooha fanfiction

[my-soul-sings]

His Prize

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Yooha/Reader

A/N: Inspired by Yooha’s new If evermore! ;) 

***

The stadium erupted into rapturous cheering and clapping that resounded in your ears. People were on their feet, shouting the names of the members from the winning team, whistling and popping confetti to celebrate their victory. 

Amidst all the noise and action going on around you, it seemed you were the only one standing still, with your lips parted, arms by your side. 

All you could see was him; his handsome grin as he held up the shining golden champion trophy, the droplets of sweat running down his face, neck and arms, and his piercing silver eyes that were fixed on you. Only you.

“How about we make a bet? If I win the game later, you’ll go with me to prom.”

His words echoed in your mind and you swallowed, heart starting to hammer against your ribcage. Was this really going to happen? You, a nerd, going to prom with the most popular guy in school? 

Even though you were standing at the fifth row, not too far from where he was on the field, it felt like you were worlds apart. There he was, surrounded by his teammates tackling him with hugs and high-fives, while you stood here, dressed in a plain striped T-shirt and shorts, in a sea of people who were dressed to the nines, ready to party later and maybe make some moves on Yooha. You had heard that a few girls were planning to talk to him after the game, to see if he had a partner for prom.

A sweeping glance at the crowd made you see just how pretty all the girls here looked—why would he choose you?

He must have been joking when he said that. Yooha was just the kind of guy who said the most ridiculous things without thinking too much, who teased people with his silly jokes and offended the occasional person if he said something a bit insensitive. 

Or maybe he said that because you’d told him earlier that you would just be going to prom with your friends. So there. What he said wasn’t anything special, there was no deeper meaning to it. You could stop overthinking now.

Except it was hard to stop overthinking; you had been trying to stop for the past month, but to no avail. Every time he came close you would breathe in the cologne on his jacket, and your heart would flutter no matter how many deep breaths you too to calm down. 

Eventually it came to a point where you realised that the reason you got so nervous around him was because you had come to like him. The guy who liked to mess with you and laugh when you pouted at him, the guy who would hold your bag even if you insisted it was light enough, the guy who would wait for you to walk home together after school... 

And your mind would go places. Ponder over the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he might like you back. 

But then reality would pull your head down from the clouds, sending you sprawling across the dirt. The reminders were everywhere: when you looked at how close he was to the most popular girls in school, when you happened to overhear the compliments he gave them, and when you saw the look in their eyes:

It was the same way you looked at him. 

And for some reason you started to feel the need to hide your feelings, you started to think that your throbbing heart and your wandering daydreams of him were embarrassing. Something to be kept in the shadows, hidden from sight. 

He couldn’t ever find out. 

So when he casually asked you last week if you liked anyone, you had lied and said vaguely that you had a crush on someone other than him. It wasn’t the most convincing lie you had come up with, seeing as you couldn’t even look him properly in the eye when you said that, but he seemed to believe it. He had laughed it off and wished you good luck with a smile on his face. 

And that day, he had headed home without you. 

For the rest of the week it felt like he talked less to you, cracked fewer jokes and didn’t laugh as much. Made the occasional reference to your crush and probed for some description of him. And since you couldn’t make things up off the top of your head, you started describing him, although you changed a few details about the appearance of your “crush” to avoid being found out.

He seemed to believe everything—it made you wonder if you were better at lying than you thought you were. 

For a couple of days things sort of went back to normal. Until this afternoon, when he asked to meet you in between classes, on the rooftop. 

“So... you’re not going to prom with your crush?” 

His eyes looked unsure. Something very uncharacteristic for Yooha. 

“No,” you replied. “He... doesn’t attend this school.”

“Right... um in that case, how about... hmm...” The heavy words dragged across his tongue, hesitation making his voice softer, lacking the usual confidence he exuded. 

“Yooha?”

It was like saying his name was the magic word. 

His eyes darted towards yours, and he cleared his throat, resolve settling in his determined gaze and his clenched jaw. 

“Go to prom with me.”

At first his words didn’t register in your head. You thought you had heard wrong—maybe you were finally starting to hallucinate, or the wind had distorted his voice somehow. 

“Um... what?”

“Go to prom with me.” He uttered the same words, louder and clearer this time so you couldn’t chalk it up to coincidence, or a mistake with your hearing. 

Even though you had thought about this for a while—imagining going to prom with him, your hands in his, slow dancing in the night and swaying to the soft beats of the music—you couldn’t shake off the shock and disbelief.

All you could manage was a single word. 

“Why?” 

“I know you have a crush on someone else,” he said, scratching the back of his head and twisting his lips, “but... it’s not like he’s here anyway. So I was thinking... maybe we could go together.”

“Don’t you have other people to go with?” you asked, thinking back to what you’d heard from the girls in your class. “A lot of girls are waiting for you to ask them.”

At that, he frowned, and you bit down on your lip, wondering if you’d said something you shouldn’t have. 

"I’m not that interested in going with anyone else.” 

“Oh.” 

Your answer fell flat, but you didn’t really know how else to respond. Go to prom? With Yooha? What did that even mean? You didn’t want to get your hopes up. It was painful enough trying to deal with the overthinking. He might even find out that you liked him—everything would be revealed the moment he felt your heart racing as he held your hand in his. 

“You... don’t want to go with me?”

Your mind snapped back to reality then, and your attention returned to the man standing in front of you, searching your gaze for an answer. For a hint to what you were thinking so hard about. 

“It’s not that,” you blurted, shaking your head. “Not at all. I was just... thinking.”

“About?”

“Um...” Your mind chose the worst possible time to draw a complete blank. You couldn’t come up with a reasonable explanation for your lackluster response. Every fiber of your being was screaming at you to say ‘yes’, but so many other thoughts were running through your mind. You needed some space and time alone to think, which you didn’t have right now. 

“I... have to go soon,” his voice broke the silence, the light from his phone screen glowing on his features briefly before he locked it again and stuffed it into his pocket. “Gotta get ready for the game.”

Oh right, the game. You had almost forgotten.

“You’re coming to watch, right?” Yooha asked, a smile brightening his features. 

You mirrored it, nodding. “Of course I’ll be there.”

“In that case...” Something seemed to click in his mind. You knew what that playful smile and the mischief twinkling in his eyes meant. 

He had an idea. 

“How about we make a bet? If I win the game later, you’ll go with me to prom.”

It was a ridiculous bet, with no rhyme or reason to it. Yet at the same time, it was so him. 

“W-What?”

“It’s settled then! I gotta head off first, but I’ll see you later at the stadium!” Without giving you any time to respond, he fled the scene with a nonchalant wave of his hand as he went. 

The memory started to wash away and your mind returned to the stadium and its the raucous cheers that seemed to be louder than before.

It didn’t take long for you to find out why.

Yooha was standing on the base of the steps, his piercing gaze on you. People seemed to be staring, following his eyes to where you were standing, and everyone watched as he started to jog up the stairs, rapidly closing the distance between you two. 

“Hey.” 

He smelled of sweat, his hair was matted to his forehead. His uniform was also a uniform shade, completely soaked in his perspiration that was still spilling down his face, neck and arms. You could feel the heat radiating from his body when he stood in front of you, and his hot breaths fanned across your forehead.

Your pulse started to race. And soon you were sure that your cheeks were burning at the same temperature. You just hoped your face wasn’t glowing pink yet. 

“H-Hey,” you said back with a nervous smile. “Congrats on winning.”

“Thanks,” he grinned, and the wink that followed sent an arrow through your heart. For a moment you thought it had stopped beating entirely.

“So... remember the bet we made?” he asked, and you couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you.

“You mean the bet you made?” You didn’t even get the chance to agree to it, he had simply run off after saying whatever he wanted. 

His laugh had no trace of remorse in it. “Same thing,” he grinned. “I know I’m not as great as your crush. Still, would you go to prom with me, smarty?”

Cheers and whistles erupted from all around you. There were probably some hot glares coming your way too, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. Nor could you tame the butterflies in your stomach at the sound of the nickname he liked to tease you with. It sounded much more tender and affectionate than how he usually said it.  

Maybe that was what gave you the sudden boost of confidence. It was the push you needed to realise that maybe... maybe it would be okay to say this now. 

“Yooha... you aren’t as good as my crush.” 

There were gasps, some of the people who were cheering went awkwardly silent. And you saw the smile on his face falter. 

“You are my crush.”

It took a second, and maybe one more, before his eyes widened, and his lips parted. In that moment you felt more vulnerable than you had ever been—with all eyes on the two of you, your confession lingering in the silence between you two. One second stretched into minutes, hours... it felt like an eternity as you waited for his response. 

Sudden fear pricked at you. What if you had been wrong? What if you had just set yourself up for embarrassment in front of everyone? Gosh, why didn’t you just say this when it was just the two of you? Or better yet, not say anything at all and simply agree to go to prom with him? 

A hand on your cheek made you snap out of your thoughts, and then you found him staring at you with the happiest smile you’d ever seen on him. The tips of his ears were red as he leaned in closer, nose almost touching yours. 

"Then, I guess it’s okay for me to do this, right?” 

His eyes slipped close, and then he sealed the distance between your lips.

The sound of cheers exploded all around you, but they seemed muffled compared to the sound of your beating heart. Your eyes slipped close too, leaning into his kiss. It was soft, gentle... you felt his hand move to the nape of your neck so he could deepen the kiss, and his other hand came to rest on your waist, pulling you closer to him. You didn’t mind that he was sticky and soaked with sweat, all your mind could focus on was his lips moving in sync with yours and how it was turning your insides to mush and making your knees weak.

As you rested your hands on his chest for support, you felt it. Even through his uniform, it was there: his racing pulse beneath your fingers, against your palm. 

The kiss didn’t last long, seeing as he couldn’t contain his smile. Your own lips spread into a smile too, and he pulled away, pumping his fist into the air.

“SHE SAID YES! WE’RE GOING TO PROM!” 

He yelled it like it was the greatest news ever, and even though you wanted to punch him in the head for being so embarrassing, you couldn’t help but laugh along with him as he snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side. It was like you were the true prize he had won from the game.

And when he looked at you with that dazzling, heart-stopping smile, you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing a kiss to his cheek, for all to see.

You had won, and now he was yours too. 

[wannabetwins]

White String of Hate

Summary: In which Taehee, the resident clean freak, is driven to the brink of insanity.

***

It started when he found pieces of white string on his clothes.

At first, he thought nothing of it. He had just re-organized the closets in the house. Maybe some stray cobwebs had floated into the room—nothing his duster couldn’t handle.

But then he started seeing them elsewhere. In his potted plants, the kitchen counter, the floor… And every time he mentioned it, his housemates merely shrugged it off and dismissed it as him being too much of a “clean freak”. He knew he had a tendency to be more sensitive to these things, so he let it slide, and told himself he was just thinking too much... before wiping down the surfaces till they were back to their pristine, clean state.

Still, the white strings continued to appear. He couldn’t even wear black shirts anymore without feeling irked to the bone. Even his trusty lint roller wasn’t enough to keep them at bay. "Maybe it's a lint mutation!" Hansol suggested. That was a ridiculous suggestion, of course… but Taehee did buy a new roller. Still it proved to be of little use; the pesky little strings kept coming back like scheming parasites.

By the seventh day, Taehee was beginning to question his sanity. Maybe he’d just worked too many long hours. Maybe his eyes were just tired. Maybe all he needed was a long night of sleep.

For days, the strings plagued his sight, their appearances growing more and more ridiculous. One morning, he even found it on his toothbrush. However, just like before, his housemates responded to his questions with that same indifference.

But he couldn’t get it out of his mind. The white strings consumed his every thought, and it was impossible to avoid them in the house when they seemed to have plagued every corner of his home.

There had to be a scientific explanation behind it—a sickness? But everyone was perfectly healthy. White hairs from stress-induced aging? But he was a goblin.... The others certainly didn’t seem to have developed white hairs either. He got MC to check his head on multiple occasions too, and she had assured him that he wasn’t growing any. He could only take her word for it.

What else could it be? Cobwebs? But cobwebs didn’t form so quickly after being cleaned. And they wouldn’t come in such huge numbers.

The question remained in the back of his mind as he struggled to come up with a reasonable answer, other than one involving him hallucinating. Because he wasn’t. His housemates who weren’t seeing these white strings were clearly going blind.

The last straw was when he was having his morning coffee. One of the rare times he could sit down in peace, take his time to savour the bittersweetness of his special brew. Needless to say it was one of his favourite times of the day.

Until he saw it. The thin white line of his nightmares now floating in the middle of what should’ve been delightful blackness.

Despite the sting of the heat, his fingertips pressed into the ceramic mug in a last attempt to keep his composure. But it was too late. He had reached the end of his tether, and his brain was beginning to tatter.

“Hey, clean freak,” Yooha’s usually unwelcomed voice slashed through the muddled swirl of Taehee’s angry thoughts. The latter looked up, finding the fox waving his open palm in front of him. “What’s with that face?”

“What?” Taehee rasped, brows furrowing in annoyance. He could already sense the stupid comment on his upturned lips.

“Usually, when you drink your coffee, you turn all pensive—like an old man,” Yooha shrugged. He took a casual sip of his wine. What lunatic even drank this early? “But you looked really pissed just now.”

Taehee blew out a sharp huff. If this fox knew what was good for him, he’d stay away. Anger was coursing through his veins and Taehee had been wound up too tight; he was this close to snapping.

“Oi. Kim Taehee. You okay? Why aren’t you—”

“I can’t...” Taehee mumbled through his gritted teeth.

“—drinking your coffee?”

“I CAN’T!”

Taehee’s shout echoed in the empty living room, and for the first time Yooha actually looked a little scared of him. The fox’s speechlessness made an awkward silence settle between the two as Taehee mentally berated himself for losing control over his temper like that. He had to stay calm. Be calm. Calm...

“Woah… yeah you’re definitely not okay. Wanna talk about it?”

The sound of Yooha’s voice ignited yet another spark of rage within him, and before he could do something else he would regret, Taehee grabbed his cup and emptied its tainted contents into the sink.

Yooha gaped at him expectantly, though a trace of awe and fear were still visible between his furrowed brows. He probably thought Taehee was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

Oh, God...Taehee hoped he didn’t go into one of his rambles praising his own wisdom guised as shoddy advice. Not now.

However, the goblin was saved from such torture by the soft pad of footsteps down the stairs.

“What’s going on? I heard yelling.”

MC’s voice drifted from the stairs, and soon she came into view, bed head still fresh and her eyes smaller than usual, groggy with sleep. Taehee’s heart gave a small leap in response. As usual.

And apparently, it wasn’t alone.

The fox perked up, sitting straighter in his seat and his previously lazy demeanor turning almost puppy-like.

“Ah, MC,” he said, a grin now stretching across his lips. Taehee barely held back his own smile at her presence which now whittled away at his annoyance. “Good morning! Did you dream of me?”

Taehee rolled his eyes at Yooha’s unnecessary wink. MC was equally unamused, tired as she was, though she did spare him a chuckle.

“Yeah, yeah, sure did,” she replied with a brief smile, before her attention turned to Taehee. It was strange how easily she could calm him down. Just one look from her and he felt his breathing start to slow down, and the angry, scrambled thoughts in his mind began to scatter. All that was left was a pounding in his chest as he met her concerned stare.

“Is… everything okay?”

With practised ease, the corners of his lips lifted into a smile, erasing any and all traces of irritation from his face. “Yes, everything’s fine.”

“Fine?” Yooha snorted. “This guy nearly had an aneurysm.”

“What?” MC said, her gaze once again snapping towards the goblin. His cheeks heated under the sudden scrutiny.

Feeling slightly embarrassed now at the reason behind his outburst, he waved his hand dismissively. “No, no,” he stammered. “I’m really fine. I’m just… feeling off this morning.”

The girl seemed unconvinced. Her eyes drifted to the dumped coffee in the sink, and Taehee could practically see the calculations behind her forehead.

Abruptly, MC turned to the fox. “Yooha,” she began, startling when he suddenly transported behind her back.

Taehee’s skin tingled when the man slid his arms around her waist.

“Yes, MC?” Yooha hummed.

She promptly swatted his hands away. Taehee smirked in amusement...or maybe triumph.

“Did you make him mad again?” she went on.

Yooha stumbled back in offense, hand over his chest. Dramatic…

“What? No!”

MC crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one hip. Her lips pressed into a fine line as she flayed him with a hard, interrogative stare.

Yooha let out a sharp sigh. “I didn’t! Really!”

He glanced at Taehee, no doubt to clear his name. The latter pursed his lips. Should he clear the air? Technically, Yooha did add to his frustration. His presence alone could sour Taehee’s mood considerably any day, and especially today.

In the span of silence he took to think, MC seemed to interpret it as a confirmation of Yooha’s guilt, and his sentence was passed immediately.

“Go on, apologise to Taehee. You two should make up and at least try to get along.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” Yooha argued, genuinely looking quite upset now. Even MC seemed to be surprised by his reaction.

“Master, you don’t believe me? That’s hurtful…”

And then it happened.

Like a snake, his nine tails unfurled behind him one after another, practically glowing with the blindingly white sheen of his fur.

White. Fur.

The answer had been right in front of him the whole time, the source of his nightmares for the past week right under his nose and Taehee hadn’t so much as noticed.

He should’ve known. Ever since that stupid fox materialized from that scroll, nothing and no one else in this house rattled him as much as he could.

And at this very moment, he was downright pissed.

He hadn’t even realized his outstretched hand. His tense fingers were bent into a claw, ready to strangle one of the nine hydras sweeping through the air, further tainting the cleanliness of the house with those loose strands of white.

Rage coursed through his veins, and somehow, his magic followed suit with blue fire flaring into the center of his palm. Taehee hadn’t meant to move his hand any closer to the infuriating white fur. But his fight-or-flight instincts had kicked in, and little by little, those flames licked perilously close to the thin strands until…

“OW!!”

Taehee recoiled as the sharp sound pierced his ears, his anger subsiding enough for him to return to the present moment. He saw MC’s reaction first. Her eyes were wide in shock, and her mouth was frozen in a perfect “o.”

When his gaze fell on the fox again, the tails had vanished. Yooha was storming over to him, anger etched on his usually laidback face. He looked feral.

“Did you seriously just try to burn my tails? Kim Taehee!”

Taehee knew he should apologise. Clearly he was in the wrong here. But his mouth began flapping, retorts bubbling in his throat, unable to restrain himself in front of the fox. Especially when he was the cause of this whole mess in the first place.

“Would you prefer for me to shave them clean instead? Since you’re shedding anyway.”

“You-” Yooha’s voice cut off, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What are you talking about? Me? Shedding? What do you think I am? A common dog?”

“No,” Taehee returned with more composure than he felt. “Dogs are more likeable.”

“Why, you—” Yooha began, though he stopped himself again. His fist was balled tightly at his side, but he seemed to have enough restraint to keep it there. A tense breath wisped from his lips. “Look, you’re having a bad morning. I get it. But just because MC likes my tails more than you doesn’t mean you can abuse your magic fire trick.”

Several unintelligible syllables spluttered from Taehee’s mouth.

Words...he needed to use words.

“MC doesn’t— Fire trick? You don’t—”

No, no… sentences. He needed sentences. But his brain was too muddled with his emotions, and that stupid simper on the fox’s face was only making it worse.

“Or maybe… If you wanted to touch my tail so badly, you could’ve asked.”

Taehee was about to open his mouth again when MC’s face appeared in his line of sight, blocking the fox from his view.

“Enough, both of you. It’s too early in the morning for this, let’s just stop here, okay?”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who resorted to violence,” Yooha added stubbornly, shooting a glare in Taehee’s direction.

“It wouldn’t have gotten to this point if you would’ve cleaned after yourself,” he spat. To emphasize his point, he swiped his hand over his sleeve, sending a few tufts of white fluttering into the air.

Yooha squinted at the hair, his features once again contorting in offense. “You think that hair is mine? Is that what this is all about?”

“Think?” Taehee scoffed. “I think we all saw how much hair fell off that fur trap of yours.”

MC groaned and flopped back onto an empty chair. “Guys, can we not—”

“This,” Yooha interrupted, holding up his pinched fingers where Taehee assumed he had caught one of his hairs, “is not mine. Look how coarse and short this is! My fur is softer and longer than this—and whiter!”

“You can’t compare anything when you can barely see that hair between your fingers.”

“Maybe you can’t, since it’s obvious there’s something wrong with your eyes.”

“Oh? Let’s pluck out some of your hair and check then.”

“What? You think this is some kind of game? My tails aren’t for you to screw around with!”

“You always take them out when MC is here anyway. Like a dog wagging its tail for its master.”

“You- Did you just call me a dog again?”

“So on top of excessive shedding you can’t hear right either? Maybe it’s time to take you to a vet.”

“I told you that fur isn’t mine! I’m not shedding!”

Taehee slammed his palm onto the counter. His adrenaline was waning, and he hadn’t even had a sip of coffee. He was getting more exasperated by the second...

“Then what?” he sighed. “Do we suddenly have a cat in the house or something?”

A soft meow interrupted the growing tension between them, and both men turned to MC who was still innocently sitting at the table.

Yooha clicked his tongue, a smile unbefitting of the situation rapidly overtaking his previous scowl. “That was cute, MC, but this is serious,” he said. His palm rested against her mussed hair. “My honor is at stake here.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Yeah MC, I know you’re trying to help us but we need to work this out,” Taehee added, slapping Yooha’s hand away from her head.

She huffed and pushed both of their hands away from her face. “Guys, I said it wasn’t me.”

“Yeah.” A tuft of red hair appeared from the corner of Taehee’s eye. Biho shuffled meekly into the kitchen, and three pairs of eyes followed him curiously. “It was me.”

Yooha’s gaze shifted from Biho to Taehee, then back to the younger goblin. “You...meowed?”

The redhead’s chest heaved in a deep, forlorn sigh. He pressed a hand over his heart and shook his head. “I am deeply sorry for my actions. I didn’t intend for it to go this far.”

“What are you talking about Biho…” Taehee’s voice trailed off when they heard another meow. The younger goblin’s mouth was closed however, and the sound seemed to be coming from his head.

Was this a new power? Taehee had never seen anything like it. Hansol never mentioned anything about Biho’s new ability either.

However, the explanation for the strange occurrence soon made itself known… with its tiny, white ears peeking over Biho’s bright red hair.

Another one of his doleful sighs filled the stunned silence in the room. “I woke up and heard you guys arguing about Yooha shedding.”

“Like I said, I’m not—” Taehee slapped his hand over Yooha’s mouth to shut him up, wanting to listen to Biho instead of that annoying fox’s voice.

“I think it was actually this kitten’s fur… Sorry Taehee, I know it’s been bothering you this whole week.”

Taehee deflated half in relief and half in exhaustion. “Why didn’t you just say something earlier?”

“I was going to, but then you looked very angry about the hair, and I thought you would ask me to get rid of it.” Biho picked up the kitten from his hair and carefully placed it in his arms, cradling it like it was a baby. In return, the kitten nuzzled its face against his hoodie.

“Where did you even get it from? Did you buy it?” Yooha asked, defensively raising a hand up in case Taehee tried to physically shut him up again.

“I found it by the road on the way home,” he replied. “It was in a box all alone and it was raining. It looked like it had been abandoned, and I couldn’t leave it there like that.” His eyes drooped, his gaze turning sad as he gently stroked the kitten in his arms.

MC cooed at the explanation, joining the coddling of the little animal.

Taehee admitted it was touching...and understandable knowing Biho’s story. Still, the fur sticking to the younger goblin’s sleeve was giving him a fresh surge of anxiety.

“Biho,” he began, making sure his voice was gentle lest he upset him with what he had to say. “What you did was good. You probably saved its life, but…”

“We can’t keep it,” Yooha interrupted bluntly, earning him a slap upside the head. And it wasn’t even from Taehee this time.

“Hey,” MC hissed, casting a worried glance towards Biho.

Thankfully, the redhead seemed to expect this. Slowly, he nodded, though he cradled the kitten a little closer to his chest. “I know,” he said. “But can we keep him until we find him a home?”

Taehee opened his mouth to protest but MC held her hand up, no doubt guessing his answer.

“Of course we can,” she said. “We can post it online. I’m sure we can find someone.”

Biho shot her a grateful smile. “Could you help me with that?”

“Sure!” MC jumped up with a grin, before pausing. “Give me ten minutes. I should brush my teeth and wash my face first.”

“Okay, I’ll be in my room.”

Then the both of them left, although MC made sure to elbow Taehee in the side. He didn’t have to look at her to know what she wanted him to do next.

An awkward silence settled once more, now that it was just him and Yooha left in the kitchen. Briefly, he made eye contact with the fox, and Taehee fought the urge to roll his eyes. He doubted they would be able to make up even after this.

“Well? Don’t you have something to say?” Yooha asked with his chin up. Taehee wanted to wipe off that arrogant smirk from his face. But a wrong was a wrong, and he knew what he should do as the more mature one between them.

“Fine. The hair wasn’t yours, I’m sorry.”

“Good.”

“But it doesn’t change the fact that you shed. A lot.”

Silence. Presumably, Yooha was attempting to choose his words carefully, lest another argument broke out. He sighed heavily before speaking again. “Is this your idea of an apology?”

“I did apologise. But I also stated a fact. I clean your closet, you know. Your hairballs are disgusting.”

“I’ll have you know that my tails are amongst the most beautiful—”

“Just make sure you clean up after yourself from now on,” Taehee said, turning to leave. “Or I will personally shave you myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Yooha narrowed his eyes. “A mere goblin like you? Hah.”

“Hm. But a fox like you can’t disobey its master, right? All I need is to get MC to agree to it.”

Taehee felt a sense of satisfaction when he saw Yooha’s confident smile falter. Having said his piece, he turned and left for his room, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he heard his name echo angrily behind him.

[vibewithjosh]

✨ Hello Lovelies!

- I know that I have never posted something of my own, so this is a first! I also know that I have no followers •_• but we will get there! I’ve decided, at this b i z z a r e hour of the night that I want to do this, ya know fanfiction posting and all that yooha. If you happen to stumble across this, I will be trying to post my original marvel content! Mainly ficlets <3

Thank you for staying until the end to read all of this :) I’ll be posting my first fanfiction today! Remember, you can send me any prompts or anything you want! Please do :) have an amazing day!

[my-soul-sings]

French Fry

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: YoohaxReader

Summary: In which Yooha decides to bait you repeatedly with fries. 

***

“Can I have a fry?” you ask, eyes glued to the screen of your computer. Your fingers are in a frantic dance on the keyboard as you try to clear the game. 

From the corner of your eye you see Yooha extend a single yellow fry towards your lips. He’s been watching you play for the past hour. At first he tried to get your attention, but soon he gave up when he realised that you were too engrossed to pay him any heed, or worse that you would get mad at him if he distracted you and made you lose. Then he too, got wrapped up in watching you play, even ordering some food to the house so that he could snack in the meantime.

You lean your face forward, mouth wide open to eat the fry, but your eyes don’t move from the screen. You can’t. You’re so close to clearing this level. 

But when you bite down, your teeth and tongue only find air. In your mind you roll your eyes, knowing he’s messing around like he always does. 

“Can I have one please?” you ask again. If you could afford to, you would be giving him a side glare now. 

Again, there’s a yellow fry, dangling near your lips and drawing closer and closer...

You lean forward once more, but again you can only imagine the saltiness of the fry in your mouth, because the damn fox snatches it out of reach before your lips can even graze the snack.

Third time. Third time’s gotta be the charm.

“Please Yooha, just one? Please?” This is the sweetest voice you can muster. There’s no way he’ll deny you this one. He can’t possibly. 

The tempting fry in your line of sight again, this time close enough that if you were to stick your tongue out, you can taste it. Just a little bit you’ll be able to snag it between your teeth before he can duck it out of reach again.

You cautiously lean forward, but again, Yooha starts withdrawing the fry from you.

This time, you’ve had enough. And you’re prepared for the same trick. You’re going to eat that fry no matter what.

He probably didn’t see it coming. Never expected that you would take such drastic measures.

You see it in the way his hand flinches when your head abruptly jerks towards it, and starts following the fry as he withdraws it closer and closer to his mouth. 

You’re so close. Just a bit more...

But just when you feel the tip of it poke your lip, just when the fry is within reach, closer than ever before, you feel it: a pair of soft lips on your cheek, and the warmth that blooms on your skin when he kisses you, the soft smooching sound it makes echoing in your ears even when he pulls away. 

You hear him chuckle deviously before popping that fry into his mouth—the fry that you would otherwise have gotten if he hadn’t made you freeze up like that.

"Tastes good,” he grins, licking his lips for good measure, still having the cheek to add a playful remark. Heat rushes to your face, burning especially at the spot marked by his kiss. 

To add insult to injury, music starts playing from your computer—the track that plays when you lose the game.

Something in you snaps in that very moment. 

“Yooha.”

“Hmm?”

You don’t give him the chance to react. In a flash your hands are on the pack of fries in his hands, squeezing the plastic in your palm. At first you think you’ll be able to snatch it from his slackened grasp, but then at the last second he tightens it, defending the snack with sheer strength.

“Give me!” you hiss, not caring at all that you sound like a child. He’s the one acting childish, this stupid 400-year-old scheming fox who won’t even share a bit of his freaking food.

He’s laughing, enjoying seeing you squirm and struggle to snatch the fries from him, while he’s sitting in his chair, laid-back and thoroughly amused. There’s simply no way you can fight him with brute force. But there are other ways you can win. 

If you can’t eat the fries, then neither of you can.

Unfortunately, he sees through your plan too quickly. Maybe it was too obvious from the way you gave up trying to make sure the fries didn’t spill over, in the less than careless manner in which you throw your hands at him. So he quickly settles the match by stretching his arm all the way out, holding his other arm in front of you to keep you from pawing at the fries. 

“You’re so mean!” you complain in dismay, flopping back completely onto your seat with a frown and a pout. All you want is one fry, is that too much to ask?

“You really want it?” you hear him ask. 

You don’t deign him with a response. Instead, you huff, refusing to look at him in the eye.

“Okay fine, here.” 

Nope. Nope nope nope. You’re not believing him again. You’re not going to be played like a fool a fourth time. Three times is enough, you’ll just order your own fries and not share with him. Hell, you’ll share with the other goblins, just not him. 

It’s hard to ignore Yooha though. Not when he’s incessantly tapping on your knee to get your attention. Or calling your name repeatedly. You wait, thinking he’ll get tired first, but as it is you’re riled up enough that your patience has been worn a bit too thin, which means it doesn’t take a lot for you to react to his antics.

“What?”

But the moment you look at him, your irritation evaporates almost entirely, morphing into surprise and confusion instead.

His lips are curved up into a teasing smile, and there’s a single french fry caught between his teeth. With his eyes narrowed on you, he beckons you to come closer with his index finger, in a come-hither motion. 

You want to wipe that smug look off his face. 

In the heat of the moment, you do go to him. You rise from your chair, his eyes following your every movement as you step towards him and straddle his lap. As if it’s the most natural thing to do, his hands come to rest on your hips, the light pressure on your skin an attempt to pull you closer to him.

His eyes start to slip close as you lean in gradually, your lips approaching the other tip of the extremely short french fry he must have chosen just for this purpose. 

He’s a crafty fox, that’s for sure. 

But what he doesn’t realise is that two can play at this game.

With a graceful ease, you angle your face, turning to the side to avoid the french fry and instead go to brush your lips against his cheek in a barely-there kiss.

You hear him suck in a sharp breath, and you know what he wants when he starts to turn his face, and one of his hands travels up the length of your back towards the nape of your neck. 

But just before he pull you in for a real kiss, you withdraw from him with force that he doesn’t quite expect. And then you’re standing, while his hands are still frozen in mid-air, eyes blown wide in surprise. The fry that was in his mouth has snapped in half, the stray piece lying snug in a crease in his grey hoodie. 

“I’m gonna call for some food,” you declare with a triumphant tone in your voice, before turning on your heel and leaving the room. He doesn’t say a word—he can’t—as you shut the door behind you. 

The moment you’re out of his sight, all restraint vanishes. You’re unable to contain the smile that spreads across your face at the thought that you had just managed to get back at Yooha for once. For all the teasing he’s done, you’ve finally outsmarted the fox and his cunning schemes. 

A fist-pump in the air silently celebrates your victory, and all that’s left is to order some well-deserved fries.

You reach into the pocket of your sweat pants, and your fingers fish around for your phone... only to find... Oh. Oh shit. There’s nothing. 

It dawns on you then... that in your haste, you had left your phone in the room. With him. 

A string of curses let loose in your head when you hear the door click open, and the sound of your name in a mocking, singsong voice. 

All you can do to save whatever is left of your dignity is continue straight down the hallway, away from him, as fast as you can. 

[my-soul-sings]

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Yooha x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (last part coming soon)

Based on this prompt, but modified for an AU where MC and Yooha meet under different circumstances.  

The original prompt:

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a werewolf?” the human shouted.

“When we first met, I said I was a dog person.”

“Oh my God.”

***

It had been a full year since you started dating him, that sly, silver-haired man with a cheeky, lopsided grin. It was a little hard to believe, considering your first impression of him.

You had seen many guys like him before: extremely handsome, the kind of man who could have girls swooning just by casting a mere glance their way. He looked like the textbook playboy, someone who would be nothing but trouble.

But as desensitised as you were to the charms of male models like him, even you weren’t immune to his allure. You had met him for the first time in the studio for a couple-themed photoshoot, and the smirk he threw your way when you first entered the dressing room had promptly snatched the breath from your lungs.

“Hey,” he had called, “my name’s Yooha. What’s yours?” He had extended his hand to shake yours, momentarily forgetting that he was stuck in a chair, in the middle of having his hair styled for the shoot. His hand was left dangling awkwardly a couple inches shy of you, before he withdrew it and rested it in his lap.

You had introduced yourself with a polite smile, fighting the urge to stare a little too long at a complete stranger, albeit a gorgeous one. And then he had called your name in that smooth, baritone voice, as if he were practising the feel of the syllables of your name on his tongue. The warm greeting made your cheeks flush a little.

And you mentally kicked yourself for it.

Admittedly, it had been hard to control your heart rate and to focus on the shoot that day, especially with the photographer requesting for many intimate poses that mostly involved hugging him, him hugging you, or having your faces mere inches apart. And it most certainly didn’t help that he had beautiful steel grey eyes, handsome features, a perfectly chiseled body that you could make out from his tight-fitting clothes...

...or a devilish smirk that grew a tiny bit wider when you involuntarily gasped at him suddenly bringing his face close to you in a near kiss. (The photographer had been overjoyed to catch that candid reaction on camera too.)

Aside from that little hiccup of yours, the shoot ended quite uneventfully, and the photographer had been satisfied with the photos taken. You had been eager to hightail it out of there to avoid embarrassing yourself any further, but your hasty exit was interrupted by a certain model calling your name from behind.

“Good work today,” he had grinned, the puppy-like expression melting your insides in an instant. You were grateful for the makeup that was still on your face, or your red cheeks would have caused you grief for the second time that day. “Wanna grab some coffee? I know a good place near here. My treat.”

Alarm bells went off in your head. He was probably the type to just mess around, casually flirt with girls and then ghost them after having had his fun. Not the kind of guy you would want to get involved with.

“So? What do you think?” he prodded when you didn’t answer. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you were struggling to string words into a coherent sentence. It was hard to do that when he was staring so intensely at you.

“I-I don’t know,” you’d finally stammered, “I’m not a coffee person...” Yeah. Getting involved with guys like him was never a good idea. Besides, he had an odd, almost mysterious vibe about him, and you couldn’t quite place your finger on why exactly.

“Hmm. Then what about tea? Oh wait, actually...” he glanced at his watch, “it’s almost time for dinner. How about we grab an early bite?”

You had hesitated in your response again, but then you made the mistake of meeting his eyes. Those beautiful, enchanting eyes...

That was how it all began. One dinner multiplied into ten more meals with him, and before long you had found yourself falling for the man who was nothing like your first impression of him.

He was sweet, thoughtful, gentlemanly, and you had hit it off instantly. You watched the same shows, you were both dog people, you both hated pineapple on pizza, and as it turned out, he seemed to have a much more serious, long-term view on relationships than you initially expected.

And so one thing lead to another. Before long you started dating officially, and today marked your anniversary.

He had planned the perfect date. From the outdoor picnic by the river to the dinner at a restaurant you both liked, to the beautiful necklace he prepared as a gift, you couldn’t think of anything that could possibly make this day go wrong. He had appreciated the gift you’d given him too — a silver earring that you had thought would go well with the colour of his hair and eyes.

Everything was perfect. Absolutely, one hundred percent perfect.

Until it happened.

He had sent you home, and you invited him up to stay a little longer, share a glass of wine and maybe cuddle on the couch while watching a movie. You had both gotten a little tipsy, one thing led to another and quite quickly the movie was forgotten. His lips were on yours, and little by little you felt the weight of his body pinning you down to the soft couch.

"I love you,” he had whispered to you, his warm breath fanning across your burning cheeks, before dipping into capture your lips in his. He kissed you deeply, lovingly, and you could taste the wine on his tongue. 

You had gotten lost in his touch, allowing him to tip your chin up to deepen the kiss, run his fingers through your hair while his other hand began to roam underneath your shirt.

And liquid courage—curse it—had you pressing your palms against the broad planes of his back, feeling his muscles tense at the cold touch of your fingertips. You mirrored his actions, gently curling your fingers in his soft hair, while your other hand also began dipping downwards...

And then you felt it. 

Something hairy... bushy... soft... Like fur.

Your hand jumped back and you gasped, breaking the kiss and Yooha’s eyes widened in shock as he straightened up almost immediately.

“S-Sorry, did I do something bad?” 

He was so sweet, and you were about to reassure him that everything was fine— you had probably imagined something and that he could continue...

Until you saw it:

Eight, white bushy tails sprouting from his backside. 

You had sworn you’d only drank three glasses of wine. There was no way you were this drunk. But even after blinking your eyes and rubbing them, the tails didn’t go away. 

Strangely enough, the first thought that occurred to you was: those tails were so pretty. And fluffy. Like clouds. And you wanted to touch them.

“Hey. What’s wrong? What are you looking at?” 

His voice interrupted your train of thought, and when you met his gaze, you felt your mind begin to go blank. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his. This was the man you had come to love, and today was your anniversary. Did you really want to screw it up by telling him that you thought you had just seen a bunch of tails come out from his butt?

“Yooha, I-” 

But the tails were quick to remind you again of their existence, when you felt something furry brush against your thigh.

Instinctively, you let out a shriek. In his face, to boot.

He leaped back with speed you hadn’t witnessed before, while you backed up to the other end of the couch. From a greater distance now you were able to clearly see everything. The eight white tails were there in full view, and when Yooha backed up against the couch and his hand landed on one of his tails, you noticed the way he stiffened, his face contorting in horror.

“Y-Yooha, what’s that?” you asked in a shaky voice, hoping that this was some kind of way overdue Halloween prank that he had come up with all of a sudden. 

He didn’t answer, which only unnerved you even more. Usually he would come up with a playful response, and you were really expecting him to burst into laughter for falling for his prank.

Anytime now...

“Yooha?” you called again, and in response he closed his eyes in resignation, releasing a deep, heavy sigh. 

“Well... I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” he muttered, standing up and stepping closer to you. He froze in his tracks when he noticed you shrink back, as if afraid of him. But you shouldn’t be afraid. This was Yooha, your boyfriend...  who apparently wasn’t... human?

"So... I’m a seonho,” he said bluntly, scratching the back of his head with a perplexed expression on his face. As if that explained anything at all. 

You paused, waiting for him to continue, but he didn’t. Irritated, you snapped, “What the hell is a seonho?”

“A special fox. I was born with an ability to use magic and after 500 years of training I was able to take on the form of a human.”

Your mind whirled with this insane piece of information. If this was a prank, it wasn’t in the least bit funny. You searched his face for any traces of mirth in his eyes, as there usually was even when he did his best to put up a convincing act in front of you. 

Unfortunately, there was none. And he seemed dead serious, either about the nonsense he was spouting was real, or taking this prank all the way to the very end.

“You... expect me to believe this?” you asked, gesturing to his figure.

He merely raised a brow, and his tails started waving about like happy dog tails. “Want to touch to see if they’re real?”

You were about to decline, but seeing them again now, you felt yourself grow increasingly mesmerised... and giddy... Your mind began to cloud over with the thought of touching and petting those soft, pretty pretty tails... and before long your hands were outstretched, your body inching closer to him to tangle your fingers in the fluffy white fur.

Soft. That was all you could think as you ran your fingers along the smooth hairs. It was the softest thing you had ever touched. And for some reason you felt happy... sort of like you were drunk and floating. Your head felt light, and you felt any and all your worries start to fizzle away like bubbles. 

“Like them?” You heard Yooha’s voice drift into your ears, the lilting tone making you want to giggle.

“Yeah...”

“Okay, but you shouldn’t touch too much. They have a bit of a hypnotic effect on humans, and I want to explain this properly to you.” Dismay filled you when you felt his hand on your wrist, pulling you away from him. 

The giddy feeling began to fade with the distance he put between the both of you. And then soon you regained your rationality and stared at him, dumbfounded and speechless.

A fox... He was a fox... with eight tails... and he said... five hundred years? How old-

“Woah woah, don’t freak out, relax, I’ll explain everything.” 

Don’t freak out? Relax? 

How were you supposed to “relax” when you had just found out your boyfriend wasn’t freaking human?

Something in you snapped. You couldn’t believe the absolute nerve of him to look and sound so casual about something like this. 

“You’re a fox?” Anger found its way into your voice. “You’re not human? And you didn’t think this was something you should have told me about earlier?” Your words grew into a shout, and you watched as he visibly winced at the volume.

“Well... to be fair... I kind of did tell you. When we first met.” 

“What?” There was no way. You would have known if he had told you something as outrageous as this. 

He nodded vigorously, indignant. “Remember when we first met? I said I was a dog person.”

You took a while to process this. A dog person... He had shared that when you first had dinner with him, and then you two began to fawn over dog pictures.

When he said he was a dog person, it certainly didn’t cross your mind in the slightest that he was himself a-

“...Oh my god.”

“Hey, just calm down and-”

“No! I will not calm down! You do not get to tell me to calm down! How the hell did you think that counted? Telling me you’re a ‘dog person’ has a completely different meaning from telling me that you’re a fox!” You were going into full meltdown mode.

“Okay! Sorry, I get it!” He had two hands raised in surrender, while his eight tails drooped like withered petals. “I was just scared that you would-”

“Reject you? Get scared and run away?”

“Well- yeah!” He was starting to get pissed too, which only egged you on even more. He was angry? You were the only one with the right to get angry in this situation! How dare he! 

“Argh! Then why now? Why tell me now?” 

“I didn’t mean to! They just- they just came out! We were doing this and that and then they just kind of slipped out without me realising-”

“You don’t just casually forget that you have tails! Eight of them!” 

“What do you want to do then? Break up?”

His words rang in the tense air, and the counter that you had ready on the tip of your tongue promptly died. 

Both of you stared at each other in shock. Yooha’s lips were parted, a mix of regret and horror twisting his features. 

He dropped his gaze first, biting down on his lip. His bangs covered his eyes from your view, and your pupils darted to his fists that were clenched tightly by his sides. 

How laughable. It was your anniversary, and it had been the perfect day too.

You plopped down onto the sofa, suddenly feeling drained. You needed time to process all this. There was just... too much. It was all too overwhelming, and you were starting to feel suffocated by the tension in the air. 

Before you could suggest it, he spoke first. “I should go.” 

You should have made him stay. Talked this out. There were so many questions you had to ask him: who he was, why he lied to you, where he had come from...

Why he loved you.

But in that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. There was only a hollow silence as you heard his heavy footsteps across the floor, before your front door opened and shut behind him, leaving you alone in the emptiness of your apartment. 

***

A/N: weeellllllll this was not as funny as i envisioned it to be.

will be back with a part 2 hoho :) 

[my-soul-sings]

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge  Characters: Yooha x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (last part coming soon)

Summary: An AU where MC and Yooha meet under different circumstances. 

The original prompt:

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a werewolf?” the human shouted.

“When we first met, I said I was a dog person.”

“Oh my God.”

***

It had been a week since... that happened. He had left you a string of messages, pleading for you to talk to him, but you had ignored them, as well as the subsequent calls that came. 

You needed more time to process this. In fact, you’d prefer it if you could just forget everything and not have it dwelling on your mind anymore. 

But the more you tried to forget and push all stray thoughts of him away, the more you realised just how much space he had come to occupy in your life. Traces of him were everywhere: in the extra toothbrush in your bathroom if he stayed over. A bunch of his clothes in the laundry basket. The small kitchen cabinet that was reserved only for his best bottles of wine. 

Even when you tried to distract yourself with things, reminders of him popped up in every corner. While working you’d remember the photoshoots you did together with him. The cold night breeze made you miss the smell of his cologne lingering on his scarf that he would wrap around your neck. And that bakery nearby sold his favourite persimmon bread. 

There was just no escape. All you wanted was to breathe, to stop feeling this suffocating constriction in your chest every time his smile surfaced in your mind. 

You missed him.

But you didn’t want to meet him, let alone talk. What could you say? That it was alright that he was a seon-ho? That it didn’t matter that he had basically lied to you for a whole year about something so important? That you were totally fine dating a guy who was a few hundred years old? Even though he looked like he was in his twenties and was the most handsome man you’d ever seen? 

...Then there was the question of whether you could even see a future with him anymore. You could never come up with an answer. 

Or maybe you knew what it was already, and simply didn’t want to admit it. 

You sighed, feeling a stab of physical pain to your chest. It sucked feeling like this—heartache was the worst.

You took a big gulp of beer, the gassy drink burning your throat. The breeze was cold and you shivered in your seat on the wooden bench outside the convenience store that you frequented. Somehow you always found yourself here on the tough days. A few cans of cold beers would make you feel better, you’d sleep it off and then you’d wake up, ready to deal with whatever came at you.

With some shame, you realised that it was already the third night in a row that you had come here.

Just drink. Stop thinking. A long exhale dragged past your lips as you swallowed another large mouthful of beer. The bitterness on your tongue was oddly comforting. 

You were about to chug the rest of it down when you felt a hand wrap around yours to snatch the near-empty can away from you. 

“Hey!” you yelled, ready to pummel whoever it was who thought they could just steal your drink. They could get their own beer if they wanted one, the store was right there.

But when you turned around, your voice caught in your throat, and your entire body went rigid. 

Yooha. You’d recognise him anywhere — you had even dreamt of him the past few nights. Although those dreams had been tainted by the tails that still haunted your memory.

You wondered briefly if you were still dreaming, or maybe even hallucinating. Maybe you’d drunk too much. But then you heard your name on his lips, and it made your mind snap to its senses. 

He was the last person you wanted to see right then. Or maybe it was the opposite. You couldn’t tell from the way your heart clenched and pounded painfully against your ribs. It had only been a week and yet it felt like years since you last saw him. He looked frustrated, exasperated, maybe even pissed. You couldn’t tell, your vision was getting a bit wonky. In fact, he seemed to be turning upside down... heh... 

“I told you not to drink so much if you can’t handle it. What if you pass out on the streets? At least call me if you’re drinking so I can watch over you.” You felt his warm breath by your ear, and his arms wrapped around your body in a tight embrace. The alcohol was making you sleepy and it felt nice to rest your head in the crook of his neck, just like you were used to. 

You had missed this. Missed him.

“Yooha...” His name came out in a muffled murmur against his cotton shirt. 

You felt his chest rise and fall as he released a long sigh. “What am I supposed to do with you...” 

You felt him begin to drag you away, but you were lucid enough to remember you still had two cans of beer to finish. 

With a huff, you placed two hands on his chest and pushed him away with strength you didn’t even know you could muster. He seemed equally shocked, stumbling back a few steps and struggling to keep his balance.

“Leave me alone,” you said, plopping back down on the bench and opening a new can of beer. You were about to take a swig when the can was swiftly snatched away from you again.

“Yooha!”

“Stop,” he said, tugging on your arm. “Let’s just go home.”

“No. I don’t want to.” Shrugging his arm away, you made a sloppy attempt to swipe the can from him, but he easily dodged it out of your reach. Too freaking tall. Stupid model height. 

"Please,” he said. You tilted your head, a little perplexed. Yooha rarely said ‘please’. Not in this tone, anyway. Usually he was just fooling around, or giving you a smirk while saying it because he knew you would cave and say ‘yes’ to him. 

Now, he looked uncertain. Searching your eyes for any hints to your thoughts because he didn’t know what to expect. Hell, you didn’t know how to respond either. 

Did you want to talk? No. But at the same time did you really, really want to hug him? Yes. 

The mental tug-of-war played out in your head as you pondered what you should do. Listen and go with him? Or stay here and continue avoiding your problems like you had been doing for the past week?

You probably took too long. Yooha had never been the most patient person. 

With a surprised yelp, you felt yourself being yanked upwards, until your feet could no longer feel the ground.

Your fight-or-flight instincts kicked in, and you began flailing your limbs, using your fists to hit him wherever you could reach. “Yooha! Put me down!” you shouted.

“I will, once I bring you home.” 

“I can walk on my own! Just put me down!” 

“You’re just going to run away from me again. How long more are you going to avoid me for?”

“I-” You stopped short, unable to think of a comeback. Curse you and your inability to lie when you were drunk; the alcohol was seriously interfering with your brain. 

“Just... put me down,” you said. Why was he acting like this? Like he cared? “I’m heavy,” was the only decent excuse you could think of. 

“What are you talking about? You’re light as a feather,” was his reply, bouncing you twice in his arms with ease to prove his point. “Just stay still, we’ll be at your place soon enough.” 

“Seriously, it’s embarrassing.”

“No one’s out here at this time of night, it’s fine. Besides...” his voice lowered to a barely audible mumble that you thought you misheard, “I've been wanting to hold you like this for the past week.”

Well, if Yooha was anything, he was stubborn. It was clear there was no winning this argument, especially when you didn’t have the energy left in you to struggle and fight your way out of his hold. 

So you quietly wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your heavy head on his shoulder, allowing him to carry you the rest of the way home. 

You could smell his cologne... it was nice. And he was really warm too. 

A short nap sounded good for now. You could think about what to say later, when morning came. 

[wannabetwins]

Biho Snooze, Hansol Lose

Summary: Hansol gets creative in his attempts to wake Biho up.

***

Every day, Hansol had a to-do list. Chores, if you will. Taehee did most of the household chores voluntarily (the man had explicitly said he didn’t trust any of them to clean or cook properly) but Hansol did have a job of his own in the house.

He glanced over at the sleeping redhead on the bed at the opposite end of their room, narrowing his eyes at the way the baby goblin’s chest rose and fell quietly, the way his innocent face looked so utterly peaceful and rested.

Hansol had the redhead’s sleep cycle memorised to a tee by now. He knew what time Biho should wake up, what time his work shift started, how many times he had overslept and how perilously close he was getting to being fired altogether. Hansol also always made sure that there was enough food for the redhead, and chased him out of the house when the next bus was arriving soon. 

The others had teased him, calling him “Mummy Hansol'' before. The blond had frowned at the imposed title, telling them off because he was most definitely not Biho’s mother. Or a woman.

But deep down, he knew it was true to some extent. 

Somehow, he had become Biho’s unofficial babysitter, and one of his main jobs—and the most difficult one in this house at that—was the impossible task of waking Biho up every day (or night).

It wasn’t enough to call Biho a deep sleeper. No, that term didn’t even come close to describing just how ridiculously dead Biho was in his sleep. 

The most recent example? There had been a series of storms the past few days. Likely, the youngest goblin’s sleep had been interrupted by the lightning and the booming thunder. At least, that’s what Hansol had thought, being the kind, loving, caring person he was.  

However, after the third day in a row of having to wake the redhead from his slumber, he was sure not even the loudest storm would’ve woken him. Especially since his attempts at jabbing his shoulder with a blunt pen certainly wasn’t working. 

With a groan, Hansol tossed the pen onto the nearby desk. A small stack of papers went fluttering to the floor, but even that only extracted a soft hum from the sleeping stone in front of him. 

For the past few days, Hansol had to scream at the top of his lungs in order to get a small stir from the baby goblin. However, his throat was one tantrum away from being sore, and he needed to preserve it for his gig later.

“Biho,” he pleaded, hands gripping the younger goblin’s shirt. Though he knew it would be fruitless, he shook the cloth in his hands in another attempt to break this enchantment. “One night. Just one night, wake up when I ask.” 

By some miracle, the redhead’s lips parted, though his eyes remained closed. Hansol released a sigh as his knees buckled under the weight of relief. Usually, Biho would mutter a series of short, incoherent sentences before finally, albeit reluctantly, emerging from his slumber. 

Hansol’s voice had been saved… 

Or so he thought. Wrongly. 

Instead of uttering his usual ramblings, Biho rolled to one side and pulled his dolphin plushie into his arms. “Five more minutes.” 

Hansol could’ve forgiven the younger goblin had his voice been muddled, syllables slurred together from the remnants of sleep bogging his brain. However, he spoke with clarity—absolute lucidity. 

The audacity. 

Fuming from the blatant disrespect, Hansol clutched his arm once more and flipped him onto his back. Again, he was met with that familiar dopey face. All traces of awakeness were gone...and Hansol’s patience went right with it.  

“KANG BIHO!!” the shout slipped from his throat faster than he could catch it. He slapped his hand over his mouth, mentally apologizing to his poor vocal cords for the screw up. 

Still, the lack of response from the unconscious goblin intensified his exasperation. With a sharp huff, he glanced at the useless alarm clock by Biho’s bedside. If he didn’t manage to really wake the baby, both he and Biho would end up being late. 

He couldn’t use his voice. Physical force couldn’t wake him. Hansol needed to be more creative.

A new determination raced through his veins. He’d always tried to be understanding of Biho, the latter still being a child compared to him. However, today, it was time to enact some discipline. He would do whatever it took… 

His eyes scanned the bed for any ammunition to aid his cause. A blanket? It was already kicked off—and it was too warm in the room anyway. Maybe Biho’s pillow...but, that had somehow found its way at the foot of the bed instead of under his head. 

Finally, Hansol’s eyes landed on the perfect tool: the large, stuffed dolphin. 

He remembered the redhead mentioning how much better he slept when holding something. Maybe, this was the key...

“Sorry, Biho,” Hansol mumbled, though he had difficulty actually feeling remorse at the moment. Carefully, his fingers curled around the snout of the plushie, which was still cradled to Biho’s chest. 

He took one prepping breath...another…

Then he swiped it clean from Biho’s grip. 

“Ha!” he cried, retreating to his own bed in victory. With a small bounce, he leapt onto his mattress and held the dolphin high. He was sure that woke him from the shock alone. No doubt, he’d turn around and watch the baby’s dazed blinks before panic at the time settled. 

However, as he returned his gaze to Biho, he saw no such thing. Disappointment dropped like a weight from his chest straight into his stomach. 

Biho had indeed moved. In fact, the momentum of Hansol’s actions sent his body hurtling to the other side of the bed—but his eyes were still closed. His breaths were still even. His expression was...completely undisturbed. 

Hansol barely bit down a swear. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Biho!!” 

In a fit of outrage, he hurled the plushie back at the younger goblin with all the force he could muster. It bounced off one of the pillows and landed right on top of Biho’s exposed face, in a perfect landing.

Hansol’s lips parted, curving into a perfect ‘o’ as he gaped at the sight of the plushie sitting completely still over Biho’s face, who still did not show any signs of waking up soon.

Wordlessly, Hansol reached for one of the hamster plushies on his own bed, and carefully threw it in Biho’s direction. This time, it bounced off Biho’s legs and rolled off the bed. 

Aw, that was a miss.

And that was how this little ‘game’ started: attempting to throw or stack as many things on Biho while he slept, until he woke up.

Well, if Hansol had to wake this corpse anyway, he might as well have some fun with it.

It started with plushies. Then Biho’s books. And then a random assortment of items on their desks—paper weights, pens, brushes, headphones, you name it. When Hansol ran out of ideas or got desperate, he resorted to using dirty laundry (which, to be fair, was never all that dirty… except Biho’s socks). 

Usually he only managed to barely cover Biho’s body before the man started to wake up for real, and then Hansol would scramble to clear the items off of him as quickly as possible. He didn’t want Biho to realise what he was up to and ruin the fun; this was something Hansol could get used to, after all.

A week passed and still Biho didn’t seem to suspect anything. All he had were questions about why the room was always so messy or why their things were out of place, but he never questioned it further. Innocent, sweet, gullible Biho. Of course he wouldn’t think much of it, especially once Hansol assured him that he had simply been messing around in the room, and would put everything back in their original positions.

Hansol had been proud of himself, thinking that this new routine could work. 

But of course, he should have known his plan wasn’t foolproof. Even if Biho didn’t find out when he woke up, someone in the house would eventually.

“What are you doing?”

Of all days, the question came from the room’s threshold in the midst of a very peculiar and very damning sight: Hansol in the middle of balancing an empty beer can on Biho’s forehead.

And of all people it had to be Yooha. 

He was so screwed. Yooha was going to tell MC and then of course MC would berate him for pulling this on Biho, and tell Biho too. Then Hansol would have to face those sad, puppy eyes and feel bad too.

This was the end of it. His happiness… his dreams…

He wondered if excuses would help. But what possible reason could there be for trying to balance a beer can on a sleeping man’s forehead? It was ridiculous, no matter which way one looked at it.

Still, he attempted to stammer out an excuse. “Y-Yooha… you see, I was just trying to uh, um…” He cursed his inability to lie in situations like these.

The fox remained oddly silent, and the longer it was, the more the tension in the room grew, as did Hansol’s anxiety. This was bad. This was really bad. He was in for it big time.

That was what he thought. Until Yooha stepped towards him, took the beer can from him, and carefully placed it between Biho’s lips and nose instead. The can stayed perfectly still, not showing any signs of falling even though Biho continued to breathe.

“That’s how you do it,” Yooha grinned a shit-eating grin, mischief sparkling in his eyes. 

That was how Yooha became Hansol’s accomplice. And how this ‘game’ evolved into a competition.

There were three aspects to the competition. 

First—what was the most absurd object one could balance on Biho without waking him? 

Second—how long could one balance said object? 

Third—who would be the one to wake Biho (and by default lose the game)? 

So far, Hansol held the title as champion, having successfully balanced a bowl of ramen on Biho’s knee and successfully eaten it with little to no mess on the sheets. However, that didn’t mean Yooha wasn’t a worthy competitor. 

Over the course of the next few days, the fox challenged his skills going so far as to deliver Hansol’s laundry neatly folded in stacks across Biho’s body. In fact, Yooha and Hansol even bonded over the sleeping goblin. The latter was surprised how enthusiastic the fox had become. 

Just the other night, Yooha suggested a deep talk over shots, of course using Biho’s forehead as a table. But, Hansol immediately refused. As fun as it sounded, it was too risky. The cold glasses and the stench of alcohol would have definitely woken the sleeping baby. 

Yooha’s crazy suggestions didn’t stop there. In fact, they only seemed to escalate, and Hansol should have known the fox’s penchant for mischief would come back to bite them in the butt sooner or later.

That afternoon, Yooha showed up in Hansol’s room with a strange object in hand. An object that looked a little bit too familiar for comfort… 

“Look what I brought!” he said excitedly, and Hansol could imagine him wagging his eight tails in delight as he proudly showed off the item.

Hansol’s eyes widened, first in awe, before his features began contorting in horror and shock. 

Yooha waved the feather duster in front of Hansol’s dumbfounded face. Or more precisely, Taehee’s feather duster. His favorite one, too.

“What are you doing with that? You know how uptight Taehee is with his things, especially his cleaning stuff,” Hansol hissed.

“Relax,” Yooha gave his usual nonchalant shrug, “I’ll put it back where I found it. We’ll be done here before he gets home anyway. No one’s going to find out.”

True… Taehee was at work today and he wouldn’t be back until the evening. Still though, Hansol couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling gnawing at the back of his mind. 

In any case, before he could say anything else, Yooha had swiftly and soundlessly looped the hook of the duster on Biho’s right big toe. The duster swung back and forth slightly like a pendulum, before coming to a still. The sleeping goblin didn’t stir.

Hansol returned his attention to the fox, who was now smirking at him expectantly. “Your turn.” 

“I don’t know about this,” he stammered, the sight of the duster swaying filling his stomach with dread. 

Yooha nodded slowly. “Okay, I get it,” he said. He leaned his hip casually against Biho’s leg further prodding the cleaner. “You’re conceding.”  

“No!” Hansol burst. “It’s just...I’m just—” 

He tore his gaze away from the undisturbed Biho to the fox. Yooha raised a challenging brow which only incited Hansol’s dwindling pride.  

No, he couldn’t lose his title. He was a goblin—the best at stacking in this house. Just look at his laundry! 

Besides, Yooha was right. Taehee usually worked late anyway. 

“Fine,” he returned coolly. With a quick scan of the room, he found a bag of chips he had mostly finished earlier. There were barely crumbs left, but the fragments left would be perfect to showcase his stacking skill. “Watch and learn from the best, okay?” 

Yooha responded with an unimpressed shrug, though the twinkle in his eye betrayed his intrigue. 

Carefully, Hansol extracted a few triangular scraps from the bottom of the bag. Then, summoning all his muscle strength, he steadily lowered them one on top of the other—right at the tip of the duster. 

“Not bad,” Yooha admitted. 

Hansol felt the compliment run straight to his head, and in the rush, he hurriedly dug out another morsel for the finishing touch. 

And that was where it all went wrong… 

Yooha’s brows furrowed as the goblin eagerly continued stacking. He leaned forward to inspect the small, potato mountain, and Hansol waited for another compliment. Instead, the fox pointed his finger to one of the middle slices. 

“Hey, Hansol,” he said. “Is that chip moving?” 

Hansol shook his head. “If it is, it’s because you’re breathing on it. Back up!” 

Surprisingly, Yooha obeyed, but his movements were a little too quick and stilted. And his eyes...grew very wide. 

“What?” Hansol said, glancing back at his creation. Then he saw it. A brown slab with spindly legs creeping over his chip mountain. “C-Cock—” 

He barely finished the next syllable when two wings expanded from the creature. A scream edged up his throat, but he quickly stopped it lest he further harm his beautiful voice. Instead, he chose the next viable option. 

His legs involuntarily propelled him from Biho’s mattress until he nearly collapsed at Yooha’s feet. “Kill it,” he hissed. “Hurry!” 

“How?” Yooha hissed right back, backing up into the corner and ducking reflexively as the cockroach continued to zip across the air. Meanwhile, Hansol shuffled backwards together with Yooha, attempting to use his legs as a shield. 

“You’re a fox! How are you scared of a cockroach?”

“Well you’re a goblin, go burn it then if you’re so brave!”

“No way! It’s gross!” 

“Wait,” an idea clicked in Yooha’s brain. “What if we get the vacuum cleaner? It’s in Taehee’s room.”

“Oh right! I’ll get it!” Already Hansol was heading for the door, evidently prepared to abandon the fox and the still sleeping goblin — how Biho could sleep in this absolute chaos was beyond him and he couldn’t care less at this point. Biho could sleep with the cockroach forever. 

Hansol’s escape was unwittingly thwarted however, when the cockroach came into his line of sight. He jumped back immediately, knocking the back of his head against the side of his desk. He was too preoccupied groaning in pain and soothing the sore spot on his head to realise Yooha grabbing hold of that opportunity and leaping onto his bed, avoiding the cockroach entirely and getting to the door in one swift move.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised over his shoulder, before shutting the door behind him.

Hansol had heard Taehee’s story of how he was betrayed by a friend before, but he never understood what that felt like.

Until today.

“Yooha, I swear I’m going to kill you-” But he couldn’t finish his sentence because the cockroach was there in front of him again, on the wall now, close to the door. It had sealed off his only escape route. He was trapped. And alone. Even his slippers were out of reach. He was doomed.

Thankfully, help came in the nick of time. The door swung open with the force of Yooha’s kick, and the fox arrived like a knight in shining armour, brandishing the Byeson vacuum cleaner that Taehee had bought just last week. Relief flooded Hansol. Yooha looked just like a knight in shining armour. 

“Where is it?” Yooha asked, eyes steeled with determination, and the vacuum roared to life. Startled by the sound, the cockroach launched itself into the air again, and Hansol had to clamp his hand over his mouth to keep a shriek from escaping. All he did was point to where the cockroach was, and Yooha began swiping the vacuum in the air in an attempt to suck the pesky creature in. 

Hansol watched in awe—and maybe a little fear—as the fox stormed through the room with his vacuum, like a knight wielding a sword in a duel. The roar of the vacuum echoed through his ears, drowning the buzz of the winged creature in its battle cry. 

“Die already!” Yooha shouted over the clamor. Despite his efforts, the cockroach still managed to evade his strikes. Adeptly, it weaved through the air, sweeping over the beds and sweeping dangerously close to Biho’s sleeping face. 

Normally, Hansol wouldn’t mind. If their game hadn’t woken the goblin, a bug certainly wouldn’t. But a hard, blaring vacuum? 

As the chase continued, Yooha’s enthusiasm seemed to blind him, and a few of his blows were a little too sloppy for Hansol’s comfort. 

“B-Be careful!” He stammered from his hiding spot under the desk. “Don’t hit him!” 

“What?” Yooha called, focus still targeted at the cockroach. His arm swung through the air, again barely missing Biho’s nose. 

“I said be careful!” Hansol shouted louder this time. His muscles tensed as the fox seemed to ignore him. “Don’t hit him!!” 

This time, Yooha spared him a glance sideways. His brows furrowed in confusion. “Don’t hit it? I thought that was the point?” 

Hansol let out a low groan. “Not the bug, idiot! Bi—“ he stopped himself before he uttered the redhead’s name. He would definitely wake up from Hansol’s magically endowed voice calling him. “Don’t wake the baby!”

The vacuum abruptly whirred before falling silent. “There’s a baby?” Yooha hissed. “Whose? Where?” 

“BIHO, you idiot!” Hansol shouted in exasperation. Yooha’s eyebrows shot up, biting back an incredulous laugh at Biho’s nickname. 

“But he’s taller than you—” 

Hansol’s chest swelled with indignance. It might be the stress doing the thinking for him, but he had every mind to shoot a certain finger in the air, and inform Yooha that Biho wasn’t that much taller than him and that Biho was almost a hundred years younger than him, but his thoughts scattered and his mind blanked when he heard a certain redhead’s sleepy voice:

“What’s… going on?”

Ah, shit. Just a sweeping glance and Hansol could tell he wouldn’t have an explanation for any of the ridiculous items that were still on Biho’s body — the duster, the chips, the laundry, some random things Yooha found in the bathroom that probably belonged to MC... 

The jig was up. He just hoped Biho wouldn’t get too mad. He actually hadn’t seen Biho get angry before and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

His bleary eyes swept over the room once, intermittently pausing to absorb random bits of the chaos. After a long moment of gaping, he seemed to give up on the endeavor. His hand patted over the myriad of cushions and random objects until he found the dolphin plushie. He cradled it to his chest with one last, confused survey of the room before slowly turning his back to the fox and older goblin. 

Hansol only released another breath when the redhead’s own breathing slowed. He likely dismissed the whole thing as a dream...which meant they were safe. 

Gingerly, he stood to his feet, careful to avoid making a single sound during the baby goblin’s early sleep stages. He gestured Yooha to do the same with a brief wave of his hand towards the door.  If they made it out of the room, things would go back to normal. The game could continue. Life would be great… 

But he had too much faith in that stupid fox. 

VROOOOOM!

Hansol whipped around so hard, his neck throbbed after. Yooha remained in the middle of the room, his shoulders hunched to his ears, and fingers fumbling around the buttons of the machine in his hand emitting the terrible, loud sound. 

“Turn it off!” Hansol hissed, reaching for the contraption himself. 

The fox seemed to find the right button, the noise finally dying back to silence. But it was too late… 

“So, it wasn’t a dream?” They turned their heads and found Biho, fully awake and fully bespectacled, eyeing the various items stacked on him, and slowly brushing them off to the side of his bed. Then he brought his knees to his chest to reach for and remove Taehee’s duster from his toe. 

“Was it you two?” Biho asked in his usual quiet voice. Hansol couldn’t detect a trace of anger in it, which strangely enough, made him even more nervous. Next to him, Yooha was scratching his head, a perplexed look on his face. The internal debate he had going on was obvious, and it was probably showing on Hansol’s face as well.

“Sorry,” Hansol said, shoulders sagging as he dropped his head. Many words crossed his mind but he didn’t even know where to begin. Should he explain how the game worked? How long this had gone on for? Make some kind of excuse and pass this off as a prank? 

He couldn’t think of a single explanation that wouldn’t make Biho mad at him.

“No wonder you’ve been acting weird all week,” Biho said. “You were putting random things on me while I was asleep?” 

“We—” Hansol didn’t get the chance to explain (and probably inevitably condemn himself even further) because the door opened right then, revealing MC’s figure. 

“I heard screaming and the vacuum going off even though Taehee isn’t home… What’s going on here? Are those— Are those my pads?” She pointed at the items on Biho’s bed — Hansol recognised them as the things that Yooha had taken from the bathroom.

He turned to Yooha, who was now looking quite confused. “Pads? What pads?”

“This!” MC held one up, and Hansol swallowed nervously. She looked angry… 

“Oh, sorry,” Yooha replied with a breezy chuckle. Hansol noticed MC’s brow twitch at the fox’s casual demeanour. “They were lying on the counter so I just took a couple for fun… What are they for anyway? I’ve never seen you use them.”

Silence ensued… and not the good kind.

Thankfully, a soft knock on the threshold rescued the three of them from MC’s increasingly intense glare which no doubt would’ve ended in a seething scolding or maye a few of those “pads” hurled at their heads. 

Hansol turned towards their savior only to have his sudden relief morph back into dread. 

Taehee stepped past the doorway, head tilted and his usually sorrowful eyes now alight with alarm as he scanned the mess strewn across the floor.

A tense chuckle swept past his barely upturned lips. “What’s this?” came the hoarse question.  

“Clean” by most people’s standards was dirty to Taehee’s. By that logic, the current state of the room was beyond human—and goblin—comprehension. 

Having no explanation that would appease the man, Hansol sought aid from his other housemates. 

Bad idea...

“You’re home early,” Yooha unhelpfully commented. His indifferent attitude only seemed to exacerbate the other man’s poor mood. They should’ve been begging the oldest goblin for mercy lest they all be dragged into a weekend of cleaning. 

However, that wasn’t even Yooha’s greatest sin. His mistake was drawing attention to himself—or rather drawing attention to the thing in his hand. 

Trepidation seeped into Hansol’s every limb as Taehee’s usually cool expression turned dark. “Is that my vacuum?” 

Of course, Yooha maintained his casual indifference, lifting the goblin’s beloved machine in his palm as if it was a mere broom. “Oh, this? Yeah, I found it in our room.” 

Taehee gritted his teeth through a grin. “But why is it in your greasy hands?”

Ears now flushed red, Yooha opened his mouth, no doubt to reply with his own enraged comeback, but MC stepped between the two. 

“Before you two start,” she began, hands outstretched as if to physically stop them from mauling each other over a machine. “Would someone like to explain what happened here? Why is there random stuff from the house on Biho’s bed?” 

Hansol inhaled deeply. It was up to him apparently. He would just have to rack his brain for the most eloquent, poetic alibi he could muster. However, when before he could so much as voice a syllable, found the fingers of his treacherous roommates pointed straight at him. 

Mouth falling agape in utter disbelief, he dragged his gaze between his accusers—Biho and Yooha. His “friends.”

“Hansol was stacking things on me while I slept,” Biho said bluntly. 

“Then he dragged me into it,” Yooha added. The snake. 

Hansol let out a string of unintelligible syllables. “B-But, you— and Biho wouldn’t—And Yooha, you—” 

MC and Taehee turned to the blond, both wearing the same disappointed expression...like parents about to scold their child.

 “Is that true, Hansol?” MC said, sounding more saddened than exasperated now. “Did you do that to poor Biho?” 

Every excuse Hansol had prepared in the face of his own guilt—or rather just the puppy eyes of Biho, glimmering in his general direction. He hung his head with a short sigh. 

“Yeah. Sorry, Biho,” he mumbled towards the redhead. 

Biho accepted the apology with a sleepy nod, and Hansol turned to Yooha expectantly. 

The fox rolled his eyes. “I guess I’m sorry too,” he said. “Though it was fun. I didn’t know anyone could sleep so hard.” 

“Buzz off.” 

Everyone startled at Biho’s uncharacteristically crass reply.  

“What did you just say to me?” Yooha returned, knuckles tightening around the vacuum. 

“I was talking about the bug flying,” the redhead replied calmly, though Hansol wasn’t thoroughly convinced about the bug. 

Oh, wait… 

“Bug?” MC asked. 

As if on cue, the soft droning of wings gradually filled the empty silence.

“COCKROACH!” Yooha and Hansol screamed at the same time just as the creature itself re-emerged onto the scene, swooping among the beds and sending the house members into chaos. 

With a scream, MC fled the room. Hansol and Biho tried to follow but were blocked by Yooha who had resumed waving the vacuum through the air to “defend MC’s honor.” 

Poor Taehee was now resorting to grappling Yooha’s shoulders in attempts to retrieve his precious machine. “It’s not intended for bugs!” 

“Well, do you have a better idea?” 

“Use your slipper!” 

“Use yours—OW! That was my head!” 

“Oh, sorry, I mistook you for a cockroach.” 

“I’ll show you who's a cockroach!” 

Hansol groaned as the bickering continued, now accompanied with Taehee’s complaints as Yooha tried to vacuum him. 

He turned to the redhead who had curled up in a ball next to him under the desk. “Biho,” he began. “Next time, wake up when I ask?” 

Biho hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll try my best.”

It sounded sincere enough. Hansol nodded, turning his head back to the chaos before them, with Yooha and Taehee both trying to attack the cockroach. Actually, maybe it would be better if they left the room rather than stayed under the desk — there was no telling when the cockroach would swoop in here and kill them both.

“Biho, let’s go.” Hansol tugged on the goblin’s sleeve, but he didn’t get an affirmative “Mm” or “Okay” that he usually received. 

“Biho?” Hansol turned his head. And there was Biho, with his eyes closed, head resting against the wall, asleep. Again.

A string of curses went off in Hansol’s head. Stupid stupid stupid stupid—

“KANG BIHO!” 

[my-soul-sings]

This Is Everything I Never Wanted: Chapter 1

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Everyone! Mainly Taehee VS. Yooha (but not TaeheexYooha) because I’m here for the drama and tea  👀☕️ 

Summary: An alternative account of events in which Taehee was the one who summoned Yooha from the scroll instead of MC.

A/N: I live for Taehee and Yooha's brawling in the game. This idea popped into my head last night and I went ham on it, enjoy this crack-fic, I hope it makes you smile/laugh. :)

Now up on AO3!

***

It all started the day Biho came home with a scroll painting. Frankly, it looked weird. There was a man with long, silver hair on it, and Taehee didn’t like the weird aura coming from the scroll. Or maybe it was just the man’s face he didn’t like. Something about it pissed him off—probably that annoying, arrogant smirk on his face. 

But Taehee couldn’t object to Biho hanging it up on the wall in the living room, especially not when he looked so mesmerised by the picture of the sea in the background. The younger man had always been fascinated by the sea, so Taehee decided to leave it alone. MC also seemed to like it too, and if the house owner herself had no complaints, who was he to protest? 

On hindsight, he should have said something. Insisted on his way—something he rarely did and would probably be easily forgiven for.

At first, Taehee kept noticing the painting, unnerved by the feeling that the man’s eyes were following him, watching his every move. He swore it wasn’t his own imagination, and he felt goosebumps rise on his skin whenever he walked past it. He couldn’t ask Biho to put it in his own room though; the wall in their room already looked messy enough because of Hansol, who had a compulsive need to buy posters of his favourite musicians. 

With little options at his disposal, Taehee tried to brush it off. Ignore it, pretend it wasn’t there. 

It took a few days, but soon enough he practically forgot that the painting even existed, for the most part. And life went on, as per normal.

That is, until Cleaning Day.

It was his favourite day of the year, as excruciating as it could get at times. No matter how clear or detailed his instructions were, his housemates never seemed to understand how to clean properly. That, or they simply didn’t care, which Taehee didn’t understand. 

It was easy enough to be patient when it came to MC. After all, she was probably just tired. He could manage doing part of her share of the work.

But Biho and Hansol? Those two hardly ever performed up to par. Hansol would say that he had finished wiping the shelves, and Taehee would swipe a finger on the underside of the wood, and there would be a sheet of dust coating the pad of his finger.

Biho was no better. After making a towering stack of his books and simply leaving them in the corner of the room, he would find a place to sleep, even if it meant hiding under the bed to avoid Taehee’s attention. Or wrath. 

After a full three hours of back-breaking work that day, Taehee had neared his limit. The breaking point came when he just finished washing the toilets, and he arrived in the living room to the sight of all three of his housemates knocked out blissfully on the couch.

“You... haa...” He had no words. He was exhausted too, but the kitchen had yet to be touched. And yet the three of them were already resting as if they had accomplished a lot over the past three hours compared to him. 

In his mind, the list of chores still unfinished gnawed away at the remaining strands of his sanity. That wasn’t even including the things that he’d probably have to re-do, courtesy of his housemates’ terrible cleaning standards. 

The thought of the work left undone was enough to draw another long sigh from him as he deflated a little, a frown appearing on his face. Taking care of his house was a huge weight on his shoulders. In fact, it started getting a little too heavy for his shoulders to bear.

It took Taehee a hot minute to realise that the weight was no longer metaphorical.

“Ew. I’m finally out of the damn scroll after so long and the first thing I see is a guy’s sweaty back? What the hell?”

He heard a foreign voice in his ear. A man’s voice. And then he realised there were arms wrapped around him, as well as a pair of legs and unfamiliar shoes behind him.

Shoes. In the house. That he just mopped. Twice.

Taehee turned around, about to let loose a string of curses at whoever it was, when he realised just what exactly he was looking at. 

It was a man he didn’t know, dressed in some traditional cosplay, his curious grey eyes scanning the house around him. 

Instinctively he jumped back, confused and alarmed by the presence of a stranger whom he didn’t recall letting in. Where could he have come from? The doors had been locked and the windows were open but they certainly weren’t big enough for a man this size to crawl through easily.  

But wait... there was something familiar about him. Taehee couldn’t quite place his finger on it just yet, but he didn’t like the feeling of deja vu washing over him. Or the sense that this guy wasn’t just an ordinary man—if he was even human at all. 

“Hey.” Taehee’s attention snapped to the man who was now looking at him. He bristled, for some reason already disliking the guy and his narrow eyes. 

“Were you the one who summoned me?” the stranger questioned.

“What?” Taehee had to be dreaming. Or hallucinating. Or both. It was probably from being overworked, which he blamed his housemates wholeheartedly for (except for MC). 

"Do you not speak Korean?” the stranger prodded when Taehee went silent for a tad too long.

“O-Of course I do,” he replied, not sure why he felt the need to be polite with this intruder. 

Wait. He didn’t. 

“How did you get in the house? I can call the police on you, this is trespassing.” 

“You’re asking me?” the strange man sputtered, raising his hands. “You’re the one who summoned me! You called my name!” 

He could at least come up with a more reasonable-sounding excuse. Taehee didn’t know who he was, let alone his name, for goodness’ sake. 

“I didn’t call your name. I don’t know who the hell you are, but explain yourself. Who are you and how did you get in here? I’m not joking when I said I will call the police,” Taehee warned, holding up the used toilet brush in his hand as a makeshift weapon. Even if it didn’t do much physical damage it would at least disgust the guy enough to make him go far away.

“Hey, hey, I think there’s been a bit of a misunderstanding here. I, need you, to explain to me where the hell I am. What year is it anyway? You guys have some interesting clothes,” he said, his eyes trailing over to the three sleeping housemates. How they were sleeping through this was beyond Taehee, but he felt alarm bells go off in his head when he noticed the man’s gaze lingering on MC’s sleeping form.

Before he could attack with the toilet brush though, suddenly a blinding white light engulfed the man, and Taehee had to squeeze his eyes shit. 

When he opened them again, the light had vanished and the man now sported a shorter haircut, his silver wavy locks styled in a more modern way. His costume had also disappeared, now replaced by a blue silk shirt, a silver necklace hanging around his neck and a pair of long black slacks. Thankfully, the shoes were gone. 

“There. Much better.” He walked casually over to the television to check out his appearance reflected on the blank screen. “Not bad,” the narcissist muttered to himself.

“What did you just do?”

“Changed into something more appropriate. You sure your brain is alright?”

Taehee ignored the insult. “You still haven’t explained yourself properly.” 

“I told you. You summoned me here by calling my name.”

He was quite persistent with this ridiculous story. Deciding to play along in case he could get more information out of him, Taehee asked, “What’s your name?”

The stranger stared at him like he was stupid, but Taehee maintained his frown long enough that the intruder finally relented begrudgingly with a dragged-out sigh. “It’s Yooha.”

Yoo-ha. Yooha? Taehee didn’t know anyone by that weird name, much less said it out loud for no reason.

Unless...

“You... haa....” 

Could it be... it was all because of that resigned sigh that had escaped his lips when he stepped into the living room just now? 

The realisation struck Taehee like a bucket of ice cold water being poured no him. That counted? Seriously? 

“What’s your name?" Yooha asked. 

“Taehee,” he replied thoughtlessly, before biting down on his tongue. This was hardly the time for introductions. “Now tell me, what are you? Where did you come from?”

In response, Yooha gestured casually to the wall by the television. More specifically, the painting that Biho had bought the other day, except now it looked ostensibly different: 

The man in it was no longer there.

“I was trapped in that painting, but you called my name so I was finally released,” he explained, the nonchalance in his drawl grating on Taehee’s nerves. Was this a joke to him? 

But... the more Taehee thought about it, the more he realised there was no other way to make sense of this bizarre situation. Yooha’s explanation seemed to be the only logical one, even if impossible. Unless, of course, he was dreaming. But a quick pinch to his arm and the sting that followed indicated that he wasn’t, quite unfortunately.

There was a groan, and Taehee glanced in Yooha’s direction. “What.”

“It’s just...” he scratched his head, his face contorting with a perplexed expression. “I’m not happy about this... but since you’re the one who summoned me out of the scroll, I’m now bound to you as a servant.”

“Come again?” Taehee gawked, which earned him an exasperated sigh.

“Of all things, I had to be bound to a mere goblin...” he grumbled to himself. Then, raising his head, he gave Taehee a hard look. “You’re not very smart, are you?”

“I’m a doctor. And wait- are you by any chance... a seon-ho?”

“Finally saying something sensible, are we?” the man scoffed with an eye roll. Taehee had to purse his lips into a thin line to keep from making a sharp remark. There was no need to prove himself to this complete stranger who was now calling him his... servant? The hell?

“So what,” Taehee began, “I’m your... master now?”

“Ugh, it sucks when you say it out loud, but yes. That’s right.” Yooha plopped onto an empty chair, stretching his limbs and settling into a comfortable position. He sort of resembled a cat.

“And who are they?” Yooha jabbed a finger at the pile of sloths as well as MC on the couch, who were still asleep. 

“The people I live with,” Taehee replied, eyes narrowing at him. 

“Three guys and a girl? What’s up with that?” 

“None of your business.”

“Ooh. Master is feisty.” He paused, a devious smirk playing on his lips. “Is it because of the girl?” 

“Shut up,” Taehee snapped quite uncharacteristically. It had been less than fifteen minutes and already this guy was seriously wearing his patience thin. “And stop calling me ‘Master’. It’s gross.”

"Yeah, I will. I almost threw up after saying that.” 

A moment of silence passed, neither knowing what to say. This was a weird situation, to say the least, and Taehee wasn’t sure if he had fully processed it yet. A lot had happened today and he just wanted to take a nice, hot shower and go to bed. Screw dinner, he was too tired to cook. Maybe when he woke up, this would all go away, including this pesky nuisance, and everything would go back to normal. 

“So...” Yooha spoke up, unceremoniously interrupting Taehee’s attempt to comfort himself. “What now?”

Taehee shrugged, but before he could say anything, he heard a voice. 

“Taehee...” MC mumbled. Her sweet voice usually made his heart flutter, but right then, it made his entire body go rigid. 

“Who’s that?” 

[my-soul-sings]

This Is Everything I Never Wanted: Chapter 2

Fandom: Wannabe Challenge Characters: Everyone! Mainly Taehee VS. Yooha (but not TaeheexYooha)

Summary: An alternative account of events in which Taehee was the one who summoned Yooha from the scroll instead of MC. 

Read on AO3!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

***

As expected, the rest were shocked to wake up to seeing a strange man in the living room. Yooha didn’t seem too bothered; in fact, he appeared to enjoy the attention and seeing them all get flustered. 

The explanation that Taehee offered (because he doubted the scroll-man possessed enough tact to phrase things properly) was of course, difficult for them to swallow. 

Hansol’s outbursts were the loudest, although he seemed to accept the story quite easily. There really wasn’t any other way to make sense of things.

Biho kept quiet, as usual, only raising the occasional question here and there. Yooha answered him smoothly enough, so his furrowed brow indicated that his worries weren’t entirely assuaged. 

MC was the most perplexed out of the three. Understandable, considering she was the only human here. Even the three goblins had a hard time digesting this much information all at once, let alone MC. But Taehee couldn’t help the rather inappropriate thought that crept into his mind as he watched her frown, struggling to form a coherent response to all this:

She’s beautiful.

“So let me get this straight,” she started, her voice hushing everyone else in the room. “You came out of that painting because Taehee accidentally summoned you by calling your name, which is Yooha. And... you’re a seonho... which means what, exactly?”

"Special beings who are born with an ability to use magic. We’re different from ordinary foxes,” the silver-haired man replied breezily with a proud smile. “Bet you haven’t met one before, little lady.”

“The name’s MC,” she shot back, clearly not appreciating the nickname. Taehee couldn’t help but smirk at her response, feeling an odd sense of victory. “Wait. Did you just say you’re a... fox?”

“A fox who can speak and look like a human after 500 years of training,” Taehee added, although it didn’t seem to alleviate her confusion. 

“Is that so surprising?” Yooha remarked, before pursing his lips in thought. "Should I show you?”

“Show me what?” MC asked, just as a soft white glow began to engulf the man. Taehee braced himself, taking MC’s wrist and pulling her behind him. He couldn’t use his magic against this guy, try as he might, but he would use the damn toilet brush to protect MC if he had to.

As it turned out however, there was no need. When the white light vanished, eight white tails had appeared from behind him. The pure white, almost glossy sheen to his fur was undoubtedly beautiful. They even seemed to be glowing.

“Well?” Yooha asked, eyebrow raised and the corner of his lips quirked up into an arrogant smirk. “Now do you believe me?”

“I’m dreaming, right?” MC murmured, though her eyes were fixed on those tails, entranced by their lithe form as they danced in the air. Like big bushy white snakes, Taehee thought to himself.

“Why don’t you touch them for yourself and see if they’re real?” Yooha asked. Taehee didn’t think much of the gesture, until he looked at MC and found her wearing an uncharacteristically dazed expression with a loose smile playing on her lips. Her cheeks were starting to flush a light pink, as if she was tipsy.

Biho and Hansol seemed to notice this too, although they didn’t seem to know how to respond, since all she was doing was stepping forward with her arm outstretched to pet Yooha’s tails. 

It didn’t seem dangerous enough to cut in.

And yet, he did.

Taehee placed a hand on MC’s wrist, momentarily snapping her attention to him. It was quick to fade, however, because her attention quickly returned to the wagging tails and the scheming fox in front of her. Yooha hardly seemed fazed by Taehee’s interruption, and that only made him angrier.

“What do you think you’re doing to her? Stop that,” he demanded, gently pulling MC into his arms to keep her from getting closer to that man. 

“Nothing, I’m just offering to let her touch my tails,” Yooha replied innocently, but Taehee knew better than to trust that cunning smile of his. His fingers itched to hurl a couple of balls of goblin fire at those tails and watch them burn up in smoke, but he knew better than to start a fight here. A seonho like him, especially one with eight tails, was far stronger than a goblin. 

Just as he thought, this fox couldn’t be trusted. 

In the end, Cleaning Day had to be adjourned for another day, seeing as there was a more pressing issue to consider. Namely, what to do with the seon-ho. Taehee just wished he would go away already, but the fox seemed intent on staying here with them.

“I can stay with you guys, right?” he had asked Taehee with the biggest, most hopeful smile yet, his tails wagging behind him.

“No,” was Taehee’s immediate response. If they ever became housemates, this house would become a living hell. The past hour was already more than he could bear for a lifetime.

“But—” his tails drooped, and his smile faltered, “you have to take responsibility.” 

“What?” Taehee couldn’t believe this guy’s nerve. 

“You summoned me out here. Of course you’re responsible for me now.” 

“And you’re welcome for that. You were trapped in there, and I released you. I owe you nothing.”

“Is he usually this cruel?” Yooha asked, directing the question to MC.

“Well, I’ve never seen him this annoyed before,” she commented, at the same time that Taehee replied, “I’m not being cruel. Besides, I’m not the one to ask; MC’s the one who owns the house.” 

“Oh.” A devilish smirk lit up Yooha’s features. 

Taehee immediately regretted revealing that tidbit of information.

“So, MC, right?” Yooha strutted over to the girl, his tails wagging a little more excitedly now. “What do you say, can I stay here?” he asked in a sweet, charming voice that was obviously fake. “Please?”

Taehee expected to hear an immediate ‘no’. After all, this was a complete stranger they knew nothing about, and to top it off, he was dangerous. The three goblins couldn’t use their powers against him, a higher being. If things ever got out of hand, none of them would be able to stop him. MC was the one most vulnerable here. The answer that she should give was obvious.

“...Sure.”

Taehee had to do a double-take. His head jerked towards her, only to find that her eyes looked slightly glazed over, just like before. She looked almost tipsy, except that had happened in the span of a few seconds, without any alcohol.

Which meant the culprit was... 

Taehee’s glare turned on the cunning fox who was grinning at MC’s response. The answer that he had made her utter by using his magic. Some kind of hypnosis, perhaps. And it probably had something to do with those tails of his that he was offering to let her touch again.

That dirty fox!

Taehee immediately grabbed MC by the wrist and teleported them into her room, all the while holding her tightly to his chest. She snapped to her senses soon enough, but it didn’t stop anger from boiling in his blood at the thought of what that sly fox had just done to MC, of all people. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, to which she nodded.

“Yeah, I am.” She looked a little confused, like she didn’t what Yooha had just tried to do to her. 

“You’re not going to let him stay here, right?” Taehee asked with a worried frown. She couldn’t possibly be entertaining the thought of letting that man stay together with them.

To his dismay, she hesitated in giving her answer. Instead, she began to look a little perplexed, and he could see that she was thinking hard about this. 

What possible reason could she have to even think about saying ‘yes’? 

“He... doesn’t have anywhere to go, does he?”

Taehee shook his head. It was unlikely, considering he had been trapped in the scroll for about two hundred years now, if what Yooha said was true. 

“I think... I’m going to let him stay,” she said slowly. MC put up a hand, silencing his immediate protests. “It’s just... you guys didn’t have a place to stay either. He reminds me of the three of you.” As if embarrassed, she averted his surprised eyes, and his shoulders slumped with resignation.

How could he argue against that?

“I’m just worried that he’ll hurt you,” Taehee sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She raised her head and locked eyes with his. “He’s a seonho, more powerful than the three of us. If anything happens...”

“You’re his master right? He’ll have to listen to you,” MC pointed out. “He looks mischievous but I don’t think he’s a liar. He’ll probably listen to whatever you say.” 

That... was true. As much as it pained Taehee to think about, that fox was now bound to him... as a servant. There was no escaping that fact. 

Why, why did he let Biho take that stupid scroll home in the first place? He just knew there was something off about it from the very beginning. He should have done something about it then, even if it meant making Biho sad for a few days. 

"So it’s settled,” MC declared, snapping him out of his thoughts. “He’ll stay here with us.” After making sure he didn’t have any remaining objections to add, she left the room to break the news to Yooha.

Those very words sealed his fate, and it marked the beginning of all of Taehee’s anguish. 

***

A/N: Next up: Taehee experiences the six stages of grief as he learns to manage his new roommate. 

[wannabetwins]

Hello everyone! Welcome to Wannabetwins, where two writers go nuts with their ideas!! 

We’re Ailis and Sherms, and we set up this blog for our fic collabs on Wannabe Challenge because we thought it would be fun to write about shenanigans between the 5 house mates in this game 😎

Right now we‘re working on a prank war series, where (you guessed it!) the house mates prank each other/drive each other crazy. It’s going to be a mess, and we hope you’ll have fun reading our fics as much as we enjoy brainstorming ideas and writing together!

We’re also open to taking requests! See our request guidelines before submitting them to us (just drop us an ask). :) 

That’s all from us! We hope you enjoy your time here on this blog! ☕️✨

✨ Our socials ✨ + Ailis: @spacechip707  + Sherms: @my-soul-sings

P.S. We had a Mystic Messenger collab blog @mysmesomespacechips​ so if you’re an MM fan and love the choi twins as much as we do, go ahead and check out the crack fics and headcanons we posted there!

[wannabetwins]

It’s officially canon....YOOHA SHEDS.

White String of Hate

Summary: In which Taehee, the resident clean freak, is driven to the brink of insanity.

***

It started when he found pieces of white string on his clothes.

At first, he thought nothing of it. He had just re-organized the closets in the house. Maybe some stray cobwebs had floated into the room—nothing his duster couldn’t handle.

But then he started seeing them elsewhere. In his potted plants, the kitchen counter, the floor… And every time he mentioned it, his housemates merely shrugged it off and dismissed it as him being too much of a “clean freak”. He knew he had a tendency to be more sensitive to these things, so he let it slide, and told himself he was just thinking too much… before wiping down the surfaces till they were back to their pristine, clean state.

Still, the white strings continued to appear. He couldn’t even wear black shirts anymore without feeling irked to the bone. Even his trusty lint roller wasn’t enough to keep them at bay. “Maybe it’s a lint mutation!” Hansol suggested. That was a ridiculous suggestion, of course… but Taehee did buy a new roller. Still it proved to be of little use; the pesky little strings kept coming back like scheming parasites.

By the seventh day, Taehee was beginning to question his sanity. Maybe he’d just worked too many long hours. Maybe his eyes were just tired. Maybe all he needed was a long night of sleep.

For days, the strings plagued his sight, their appearances growing more and more ridiculous. One morning, he even found it on his toothbrush. However, just like before, his housemates responded to his questions with that same indifference.

But he couldn’t get it out of his mind. The white strings consumed his every thought, and it was impossible to avoid them in the house when they seemed to have plagued every corner of his home.

There had to be a scientific explanation behind it—a sickness? But everyone was perfectly healthy. White hairs from stress-induced aging? But he was a goblin…. The others certainly didn’t seem to have developed white hairs either. He got MC to check his head on multiple occasions too, and she had assured him that he wasn’t growing any. He could only take her word for it.

What else could it be? Cobwebs? But cobwebs didn’t form so quickly after being cleaned. And they wouldn’t come in such huge numbers.

The question remained in the back of his mind as he struggled to come up with a reasonable answer, other than one involving him hallucinating. Because he wasn’t. His housemates who weren’t seeing these white strings were clearly going blind.

The last straw was when he was having his morning coffee. One of the rare times he could sit down in peace, take his time to savour the bittersweetness of his special brew. Needless to say it was one of his favourite times of the day.

Until he saw it. The thin white line of his nightmares now floating in the middle of what should’ve been delightful blackness.

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