baekyeon-group-psychward

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

Flight 143

Summary: Yujin doesn't do "airport crushes". But one smile, one conversation, and one tragically discarded napkin later, she’s stuck wondering if she missed her shot. That is, until the universe gives her a second chance — with coffee, nerves, and maybe a little flirting to make up for lost time.

Genre: fluff, romcom

Word Count: 1.1k words

flight attendant!An Yujin x fem!reader

A/N: wrote this after remembering how yujin wanted to become a flight attendant if she didn't become an idol

The moment Yujin spotted Y/N at the check-in counter, she knew she was in trouble. It was the kind of trouble that made her heartbeat stutter for just a second longer than normal, the kind that had her sneaking glances while pretending to check the flight manifest. Y/N wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary — just speaking to the agent at the counter, passport in hand, a carry-on resting against her leg — but there was something about her. Maybe it was the way she tucked her hair behind her ear while listening intently, or how she smiled politely even while waiting.

Yujin swallowed, forcing herself to focus as she made her way toward the gate where passengers were beginning to board.

When Y/N finally stepped onto the plane, Yujin straightened her uniform and took a deep breath. "Welcome aboard," she greeted with a warm smile, her signature dimples making an appearance.

Y/N returned the smile, a little shy but polite. “Thank you.”

Yujin wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip by. As Y/N made her way down the aisle, struggling to lift her carry-on into the overhead compartment, Yujin was quick to step in.

“Let me help you with that.”

“Oh, I got it—” Y/N started, but Yujin was already reaching up, effortlessly slotting the bag into place.

“There we go,” Yujin said, brushing her hands off dramatically before flashing another dimpled grin. “No need to strain those arms.”

Y/N chuckled. “That was smooth. Thanks.”

Yujin winked, not missing the way Y/N’s ears turned a little pink before she settled into her seat.

Throughout the flight, Yujin found herself glancing in Y/N’s direction whenever she passed by. Her fellow flight attendants teased her about it, but she didn’t care. When the meal service began, she saw her chance.

As she placed the tray in front of Y/N, she subtly slipped a small napkin underneath, upon which she had scribbled her number. It wasn’t something she did often (she’s never done it before), but Y/N was special — she could feel it.

Yujin sent her one last knowing smile before walking away, hoping — praying — that Y/N would see the note.

Except she didn’t.

Y/N, entirely unaware, used the napkin to wipe her hands and then casually tucked it onto the tray with the rest of the used items.

Yujin, who had been waiting for any sign of acknowledgment, was met with absolutely nothing. She bit her lip, confused but hopeful. Maybe Y/N was just playing it cool? Maybe she’d text later?

When it was time for passengers to disembark, Yujin made sure to be near the exit, greeting each traveler with a smile. And when Y/N walked past her, she offered her brightest one yet.

“Have a great day,” she said, hoping that Y/N had indeed found her note.

“You too,” Y/N replied, her voice sweet as ever, but there was no extra glance, no hidden smile, nothing that suggested she had seen the message. Yujin’s heart sank just a little.

Days passed. Then a week. Then two.

Yujin checked her phone more times than she’d like to admit, waiting for an unknown number to pop up with a message. Nothing.

At first, she thought Y/N was just taking her time. Then doubt started creeping in. Maybe she had lost the napkin? Maybe she wasn’t interested at all? Maybe she had a boyfriend—

“Still no text?” Yuna, another flight attendant, asked during a layover.

Yujin groaned, flopping onto the hotel bed dramatically. “Nothing. Maybe I should’ve just been upfront instead of doing the whole mysterious note thing.”

“Or maybe she just didn’t see it,” Yuna suggested.

That thought kept Yujin going.

Whenever she had a flight, she found herself looking out for Y/N. It was a ridiculous hope, but she couldn’t help it. She scanned the boarding passengers, checked every coffee shop in airports, and even peeked into bookstores when she had time between flights. And then, as if fate had finally decided to take pity on her, Yujin found her again.

Yujin had just landed back home and, as was her habit, she stopped by her favorite café to grab a much-needed coffee. She stepped inside, rubbing the back of her neck, and was about to pull out her phone when—

There she was.

Y/N, standing behind the counter, adjusting her apron as she laughed at something a coworker said.

Yujin nearly walked into a chair.

Regaining her composure, she strode up to the counter, heart hammering in her chest. Y/N turned around, ready to take the next order, and the moment her eyes landed on Yujin, they widened in surprise.

“Oh,” Y/N said, blinking. “It’s you.”

Yujin raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “You remember me.”

“Of course,” Y/N said, a small laugh escaping her lips. “You were the flight attendant who helped me with my luggage.”

“That’s all?” Yujin feigned offense. “I thought I made more of an impression than that.”

Y/N tilted her head, pretending to think. “Hmm… You did smile a lot. Dimples. Very cute.”

Yujin grinned, resting her arms on the counter. “Well, I also left you my number. But you never texted.”

Y/N frowned, clearly confused. “You did?”

Yujin sighed dramatically, but she was smiling. “I slipped it under your napkin during the flight.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, realization dawning on her. “Oh my God.” She covered her mouth, looking horrified. “I—I didn’t see it. I must have thrown it away!”

Yujin let out a laugh, shaking her head. “That explains a lot. I thought I got rejected.”

Y/N groaned, looking genuinely regretful. “I’m so sorry. I swear, if I had seen it, I would’ve texted.”

Yujin leaned in slightly. “Then how about I fix that mistake right now?”

Y/N blinked, then her lips curled into a smirk. “Are you asking for my number this time?”

Yujin grinned. “No, I’m asking for a date. You can give me your number after you say yes.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head, but there was a warmth in her eyes. “You really don’t give up, huh?”

“Not when it comes to someone who caught my eye at check-in,” Yujin said smoothly.

Y/N pretended to think for a moment before finally sighing dramatically. “Fine. I suppose I owe you after accidentally ignoring you for weeks.”

Yujin pumped a fist in victory. “Finally! Took me long enough.”

Y/N giggled, reaching for a napkin and scribbling something on it before sliding it across the counter. “Here. My number. Just don’t throw it away like I did.”

Yujin took it, holding it up triumphantly. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m keeping this one safe.”

As she walked out of the café, a new spring in her step, she glanced at the napkin in her hand, smiling to herself.

Maybe fate really was on her side after all.

part 2

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

How to Use Your Carabiner 🔑 (as an improvised weapon) w my ocs

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

Checkmate

Summary: They said Baek Harin was untouchable — a tyrant in designer sweaters, a girl made of iron. But Park Y/N was proof that even empires could unravel.

Genre: slow-burn, angst, fluff

Word Count: 10.5k words

Baek Harin x fem!reader

A/N: this was the slowest slow-burn I've ever written in my entire life. also not proofread. pls enjoy

Everyone knew Baek Harin ruled Class 2–5 with an iron grip, her A-rank status less earned than inherited — daughter of the most powerful conglomerate family in the country. Untouchable. Feared. Worshipped. The kind of golden girl who never needed to ask for attention because the world was already at her feet.

Park Y/N was also an A-ranker. Her father’s business wasn’t quite as powerful as Harin’s, but it came close — close enough for both families to sit at the same elite table. Unlike Harin, though, Y/N wasn’t feared. She was respected. Admired. People actually liked her. Her kindness didn’t come off as naivety but rather as a quiet strength, a gentleness that refused to bend in a school designed to break. Y/N’s popularity was real, built on kindness rather than fear. But it made her a paradox in this school, didn’t it?

An A-ranker who didn’t act like one.

Y/N and Harin weren’t friends. Not really. They sat at the same tables but rarely spoke beyond what was necessary. They showed up to the same events, but conversations were always clipped, polite, distant. It wasn’t a rivalry, not yet. But it wasn’t companionship either.

Harin watched Y/N, though.

Whenever she walked into a room, Harin’s gaze followed. Not with the usual boredom or disinterest she wore for everyone else, but something sharper. As though she was studying Y/N. As though she couldn’t quite figure her out.

Maybe that’s why Harin started testing her.

Because even with all her control, Baek Harin couldn’t understand how someone like Park Y/N existed — and worse, how she remained untouchable by the very game she designed to destroy people.

But Y/N still voted in every round of the Pyramid Game. She had to. One missed vote could mean a whispered threat, a warning from Harin passed through a smile: “Your father wouldn’t want to lose our investment, would he?” So, she played along, even if she hated the game more than anyone. The most brutal part wasn’t the game itself. It was the dinners.

The room was warm, all low lights and expensive wine glasses that no one dared to drink from. Harin sat at one head of the long table, across her father, legs crossed like she owned the world — and in some ways, she did. Park Y/N sat two seats away, across from Kim Dayeon and next to Seo Doah, who barely glanced up from her plate.

Dayeon spoke first. “Another F-ranker tried to write an apology letter today. It was almost sweet.”

Doah didn’t look up. “They never learn.”

Y/N kept her face neutral, her fork gently pushing a piece of wagyu around her plate.

“She cried,” Dayeon added, her tone light. “At least it was entertaining.”

“I didn’t vote for her,” Y/N said flatly, then caught herself. Too defensive.

“No one’s accusing you,” Harin drawled without looking up. “You never miss a vote, do you?”

Y/N glanced at her, eyes sharp. “Wouldn’t dare to.”

That made Harin look. Her smile was slow and amused. “Good girl.”

Their fathers were deep in conversation at the far end of the table, laughing about some new deal, some merger, some expansion. But under that candlelit air of civility, the girls sat at their own kind of war table.

Dayeon chuckled at the tension. “You two are like fire and ice.”

“No,” Harin replied, eyes still on Y/N. “We’re just not pretending.”

It was an odd statement, and for a second, Y/N didn’t know what to say. But Harin turned away just as quickly, leaving the words hanging between them like a challenge.

It was a regular Thursday morning at Baekyeon Girls’ High School, the kind where the halls buzzed with hushed whispers and flitting glances — the Pyramid Game results always left a residue. Park Y/N, once again ranked A, slid her locker shut, already aware of how the day would go. She never missed a vote. Couldn’t afford to. Not with Baek Harin watching her so closely.

“Have you heard?” Yerim leaned in beside her, coffee in hand. “We’re getting a transfer. Mid-year. Bit of a mystery, isn’t it?”

Y/N tilted her head, amused. “They must be brave.”

By the time the first break rolled around, Sung Sooji had made her entrance. Sharp-eyed, oddly composed, and carried herself like she had nothing to prove — which instantly made her suspicious. Or admirable. Y/N hadn’t decided yet.

The incident happened just after lunch. Y/N was heading back to class when she saw the tail end of it — Jaeun, an F-ranker with a quiet demeanor, had tripped, her books flung across the stairwell. But the way two girls sneered down at her made it obvious: this wasn’t an accident.

One of them stepped on her notebook deliberately.

And then, out of nowhere, Sooji appeared. “Pick that up,” she said, her voice flat and firm. The two girls froze. “I wasn’t asking.”

Y/N blinked. She hadn’t expected that.

Before the tension could escalate, she stepped in too, crouching beside Jaeun and helping her gather her things. “You okay?”

Jaeun nodded, too flustered to speak. The hallway stared — no one interfered, but everyone was watching.

Sooji didn’t look back once as she walked off. Y/N followed at a careful distance.

The confrontation came hours later.

After the final bell, Y/N had only just packed her bag when her phone lit up with a message from an unknown number.

Classroom. Now.

She didn’t need a name. Only one person had that kind of presence in her life.

When she entered, Harin was already waiting — perfectly poised, arms crossed, gaze sharp enough to cut glass. The classroom was empty, quiet in a way that made Y/N’s heart pace slightly faster.

“You called?” she asked lightly.

Harin didn’t move. “You helped her.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “Jaeun? She was being pushed around.”

“You think I didn’t hear?” Harin stepped closer. “Everyone did.”

Y/N raised her chin. “And what exactly did I do wrong?”

“You interfered. You made it a thing.” Her voice dropped, velvet and venom all at once. “You know how this school works. You don’t pick sides. You don’t draw attention. Especially not to people ranked low.”

“She didn’t deserve it.”

“That’s not your call to make.”

Y/N stood her ground, unwilling to look away. “And what — is it yours?”

Silence crackled between them like static.

Harin’s gaze flicked over her face. “You think you’re better than this school. Better than me.”

“I think I have to be better,” Y/N said, quietly. “Because someone around here needs to be.”

That did something to Harin. Her eyes flickered, the faintest ghost of something behind them — betrayal? Hurt? Or something deeper, unspoken.

“You always make me look like the villain.”

“You do a good enough job of that on your own.”

It could’ve ended there. But Harin stepped closer, dangerously close now — and for a moment, Y/N didn’t know if she was about to be kissed or shoved.

“You’re lucky your family’s name means something to mine,” Harin whispered. “Because if it didn’t…”

“I’d be an F already, wouldn’t I?” Y/N said. “You’d have me buried.”

They stared at each other.

But it wasn’t hatred that filled the silence.

It was everything else.

The sun had dipped just below the windowsill when Y/N found Sooji in the library, tucked into a back table with a textbook she clearly wasn’t reading.

“Figured you’d be here,” Y/N said as she dropped her bag into the chair across from her.

Sooji looked up. “I don’t like wasting time.”

“Not even to make enemies on your first day?”

A small smirk curved on Sooji’s lips. “Someone had to say something.”

“She always like this?” Yerim asked, sliding into the third seat at the table with her usual iced coffee in hand. “Bold. I like it.”

“I’d say reckless,” Y/N replied with a knowing glance. “But we’re not here to lecture.”

“Speak for yourself,” Yerim muttered, taking a sip. “Look, we just wanted to let you know… things are complicated here.”

Sooji raised an eyebrow. “Complicated how?”

Y/N hesitated. “Let’s just say there’s a… system. Unofficial. People act a certain way for a reason. The girls who didn’t stop that bullying? They weren’t just being cruel. They were following a script.”

“And I didn’t get a copy,” Sooji said dryly.

“It’s not one you want,” Yerim replied. “We’re just saying — be careful. Not everyone here takes well to disruption.”

Sooji looked between them both. “And you two? You’re… what, the exception?”

Y/N smiled faintly. “We survive. In our own way.”

There was a moment of quiet. Not silence, not tension — something else. Understanding. Unspoken truths left hanging in the air.

Just outside the library doors, Harin stood at the end of the hallway, unreadable.

She hadn’t meant to follow Y/N — not really. She’d told herself it was coincidence. She just happened to be walking this way. Just happened to glance through the glass and see her. Laughing. Relaxed. Sitting with Sung Sooji like she belonged there. Like she wasn’t tangled in things Harin couldn’t explain, couldn't control.

That gnawing feeling in her chest twisted again.

Jealousy? She wouldn’t name it. Not even in the safety of her own mind. She simply turned away, walked off without a word.

The thing is, Baek Harin never lost control. Not of her grades, her appearance, her schedule — and certainly not of her rank.

But lately, it felt like things were shifting. No, not shifting — slipping.

It wasn’t just that Park Y/N was helping transfer students and playing guardian angel to hopeless cases. It was that she wasn’t afraid to. That she didn’t need Harin’s approval yet still remained untouchable. Respected. Admired.

Harin stared at her phone, the Pyramid Game application open to cast her votes. Her fingers hovered over the interface, perfectly manicured nails gleaming under the flickering overhead lights. She had already decided who to vote for. But her mind was elsewhere.

Park Y/N. Always voting. Always good. But not harmless. No, there was something stubborn in her softness. Something dangerous.

She voted — a calculated F, knowing it would tip the next round into quiet chaos. A reminder. That no one was safe. That even admiration had limits. That even Park Y/N’s world could fracture.

And maybe… just maybe… she wanted to see how Y/N would handle it. If she would bend or break. If her benevolence could withstand the pressure.

Later that night, she received a message on her burner phone. An anonymous group thread — though they all knew who was inside.

Harin: Consider next week’s rankings a warning. Doah: You sound jealous Dayeon: or desperate Harin: I don’t need to be either. I just need her to remember who holds the strings.

She turned off the phone.

But it was too late. The thoughts remained, crawling under her skin like thorns.

She hated this feeling. Not being understood. Not being chosen. Not being needed.

And Park Y/N? She had everything Harin once thought she didn’t care about.

And yet, she couldn’t stop looking.

Another month passed at Baekyeon High.

The 13th Pyramid Game had arrived.

Doah stood at the front of the class with her usual detached elegance, arms folded neatly behind her back. “As always,” she began, voice like silk and ice, “the ranks must be chosen by the collective vote of the class. You cannot vote for yourself. Voting is anonymous.”

She paused. “The 13th Pyramid Game… will begin.”

Silence fell, and one by one, the students cast their ballots.

The results came out immediately after. Two names with 0 votes: Sung Sooji. Myeong Jaeun.

The atmosphere shifted instantly, the way it always did. Eyes narrowed. Whispers multiplied. Books “accidentally” knocked from desks. No one said it outright, but everyone knew what was coming.

By Wednesday, the torment had begun.

Kim Dayeon — as usual — led the charge. Along with Bang Wooyi and Gu Seolha, she would corner Sooji in the hallway, pour water all over her, or “trip” her during gym. Jaeun, quiet as ever, simply braced herself for it. She'd already learned not to expect help.

During break, just before lunch, the classroom buzzed with idle chatter — until a loud, shrill whistle pierced the air.

Dayeon stood at the front, smirking, lips curled like she was waiting for a game to start.

“Round two,” she muttered, stepping toward Sooji, who sat frozen at her desk.

Wooyi followed, and Seolha wasn’t far behind. The rest of the class stilled but did nothing. As always.

Dayeon reached for Sooji’s bag — but a voice cut through the silence.

“Stop.”

The word was sharp. Clear. Every head turned.

Park Y/N stood from her seat.

Dayeon tilted her head. “You and I are both ranked A. You can’t tell me what to do.”

The class held its breath.

But then a new voice joined in.

“I can.”

Baek Harin.

She hadn’t even moved from her seat near the back of the class. But her voice, calm and steady, cleaved through the room like a blade.

Her eyes didn’t move from the open book on her desk — but her tone left no room for interpretation.

The tension broke. Dayeon faltered.

“Fine,” she muttered, slinking back with a scoff. Wooyi and Seolha followed, each pretending they weren’t backing down because Harin told them to. But everyone knew.

When Baek Harin spoke, Baekyeon listened.

Later that day, as the sun dipped below the windows and cast amber shadows across the halls, Y/N stayed behind, seated alone at her desk. She hadn’t moved since the final bell rang.

She didn’t flinch when footsteps approached. She already knew who it was.

“You really like playing hero, don’t you?” Harin’s voice was low, unreadable.

Y/N didn’t answer right away. She simply looked out the window. “It wasn’t heroic. It was just… right.”

Harin sat across from her, uninvited but confident. Always confident.

A silence settled between them before Harin spoke again — this time, softer.

“Do you ever get tired of being good all the time?”

Y/N finally turned to face her.

“I don’t think kindness is something you run out of,” she said. “But I think loneliness is.”

Harin froze.

The words hit something raw.

She didn’t show it — not really. But for a split second, her expression faltered. And in that space, she looked at Y/N not like an opponent. Not like an ally.

But like someone who had just been seen — completely and utterly.

And she hated it.

The air was crisp, biting even, and yet the girls who gathered in a secluded area at school seemed unfazed by the cold. A pack of A-rankers loitered beneath the metal overhang — smoke curling lazily from a few lit cigarettes.

Baek Harin leaned against the wire-mesh fencing, eyes cold and far away as she toyed with a gold lighter in her hand. The reflective metal clicked shut, open, shut — rhythmic and sharp, like a metronome.

Dayeon exhaled a plume of smoke beside her, tossing her head with casual insolence. “Why are you stopping us from doing what we’ve always done?”

Harin didn’t respond.

Wooyi, slouched on the bench, raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been acting weird lately, Harin-ah.”

Seolha let out a soft, amused scoff.

Dayeon didn’t wait. She stepped forward, irritation barely hidden beneath her grin. “You do know this makes the game meaningless, right? If no one fears being F, if we can’t punish them, then why are we even playing?”

The silence that followed was heavy. The other girls watched Harin carefully — smoke twisting between them, like tension made visible.

Still facing the city skyline, Harin flicked her lighter shut once more and finally turned. Her voice, when it came, was quiet, but it held weight like steel beneath silk.

“Are you questioning me, Dayeon-ah?”

The way she said it — detached, almost amused — made Dayeon flinch. Everyone did. Even the wind seemed to pause.

Dayeon opened her mouth, but then shut it again.

That was the thing about Baek Harin. You never quite knew when you crossed the line — only that you already had.

She watched the other girl carefully for a beat longer, then turned her gaze back to the fading sky.

“Vote however you like,” Harin said flatly. “But if you touch them again without my permission, you’ll find yourself lower than F.”

The words hung in the air like smoke — acrid, impossible to ignore.

They all knew what she meant. Being stripped of protection from Harin meant social death, even for an A-ranker.

Dayeon, arms crossed, spoke up after a long moment. “So what, you’re playing god now?”

Harin didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.

Because in Baekyeon High, she already was.

The house was quiet. Actually, too quiet, for a place so grand.

Baek Harin sat curled up in one corner of her family’s vast living room, where the high ceilings swallowed sound and the chandelier glittered coldly above her. The only light came from a low lamp by the window and the glass chess board on the table in front of her — a luxury piece, all frosted panes and hand-carved crystal pieces that clinked delicately whenever she moved one.

White queen. Black knight. White pawn.

She wasn’t playing a real game. She just moved the pieces around in absentminded patterns — instinctive strategies drilled into her since she was old enough to sit at a board.

Her fingers paused over the king.

She was still thinking about Park Y/N.

Not in the obvious way. Not the pathetic way. Just… analytically. Strategically. Like Y/N was a piece on her board that had defied her move.

Y/N had seen her.

The moment played again and again in her mind like a curse. The way Y/N sat at her desk after class, shoulders squared and spine straight, but her eyes so tired. That damned line: “I don’t think kindness is something you run out of. But I think loneliness is.”

Loneliness.

As if Harin didn’t know what that meant. As if Harin hadn’t sat in this very room for years, with glass chandeliers and gold-framed photos and silent dinners with her parents who only cared about the family name.

Harin’s fingers curled around the white queen. She could still hear the whistle from earlier, still see Dayeon daring to talk back to Y/N in front of the whole class. And then—

She had intervened. She had told them to stop.

She — Baek Harin, the one who made the rules — had gone against her own game. Not to protect Jaeun. Not to save Sooji. But to silence Dayeon. Because the idea of someone like her speaking to Y/N like that — undermining her — felt wrong. Ugly.

Y/N was supposed to be like the rest — powerful, polite, pliant.

But instead, she’d spoken like she meant every word. Like Harin wasn’t just some untouchable tyrant of Baekyeon High, but a person. And she hated it. Hated how much it shook her.

She slid the white queen across the board, knocking over a black pawn.

Check.

Her hand stayed hovering. The board blurred.

She didn’t understand why it mattered. She had power. She had control. Everyone feared her, respected her, bent for her — even Y/N, who always voted. And yet…

Y/N looked at her like she wasn’t afraid. Like she was worried.

And that was worse. That was dangerous.

Because Baek Harin had been called a monster, a tyrant, a golden girl, an heiress. She had never been called lonely. But still, the words wouldn't leave her. Because if anyone had the power to make her question the system she ruled — make her doubt herself — it was Park Y/N.

And Harin hated that.

She hated how it made her feel.

She hated how it made her want.

One of Class 2-5’s privileges was the school trip, and the scuba diving session in the deep training pool that Baekyeon High had booked out for them was supposed to be one of the highlights.

Harin didn’t participate. She hated the water.

Not just because she couldn’t swim — though that was certainly part of it — but because of the lack of control. The depth. The stillness. The unknown. She stood by the edge of the pool in her dry clothes while the other girls splashed around in wetsuits and life vests, pulling off their gear after a long round in the pool.

She was looking down. The water was so deep she could barely make out the tile patterns at the bottom. It felt like it was staring back at her.

Then she felt two hands shove her back. Hard.

Her foot slipped on the wet tile.

She barely had time to gasp before she hit the water.

The cold closed over her like a coffin.

The surface above her blurred. Her limbs kicked wildly, uselessly. Water burned her nose, her throat. She couldn't breathe — panic spiraled through her chest as she sank, the weight of her clothes dragging her down.

Everything spun.

And then hands.

Hands around her waist, a firm grip pulling her upward. A flash of soaked hair, wild eyes, and soft lips pressed in concentration. Y/N.

Harin broke the surface with a violent gasp, choking, coughing water onto Y/N’s shoulder. Others were shouting now — Jaeun and Eunjong already jumping in to help, but Y/N was the one who held her up. Y/N who had reached her first. Harin clung to her like instinct.

When they got her to the edge of the pool, a lifeguard rushed in. She was hauled out, wrapped in towels, someone pressing something warm into her shaking hands. She wasn’t shivering. Just seething. She sat on the tile, wrapped in a towel, eyes trained not on Wooyi or the teacher. But on the crowd.

On the girls who did nothing. On Eunbyeol, Dayeon, and Doah — all standing there, dry, untouched, unmoved. And that fact burned more than the water in her lungs. She didn’t say anything. But her jaw locked so tight, it ached.

And then... her eyes landed on Y/N.

Wet, panting, water dripping down her temples. Sitting beside Jaeun, checking a scratch on her own arm from pulling Harin too hard.

And Harin hated the twist in her chest.

Not because she had been humiliated. But because Y/N had jumped in without hesitation.

Why?

The golden sky had already begun to dim, casting soft shadows across the open field in front of the hotel buildings. Patches of grass crunched beneath the girls’ sneakers as they huddled in scattered circles, the buzz of conversation rising in loose clusters.

Mr. Im stood in front, clipboard in hand, and let the girls form their own groups. The moment he finished speaking, movement erupted.

Eunbyeol didn’t hesitate. She slid herself smoothly beside Harin, looping an arm through hers like it was expected.

“Dayeon! Doah!” she called over her shoulder, waving them in.

The three of them gathered around Harin with ease, forming a tight circle.

Nearby, a few girls were already glancing toward Y/N — some out of curiosity, others out of expectation. It was obvious what was happening. These were the top-rankers, the inner circle. Anyone outside that circle could only watch.

Harin’s group was already half-formed, and most expected her to fall into line. She always had. There was space for her, right beside Harin, even if no one said it aloud.

But then Yerim looked up from where she stood with Sooji, Jaeun, and Jaehyung. Her brows lifted ever so slightly, and she didn’t say a word — just waited.

Both groups looked at her.

Harin didn’t say anything, but her eyes were locked on Y/N from the corner of her vision.

The silence was thick.

Y/N smiled — small, gentle — and began walking.

Not toward Harin.

But toward Yerim.

Her footsteps crunched lightly against the grass as she stopped in front of the group.

“Room for one more?” she asked.

Yerim beamed. “Obviously.”

Jaehyung whistled low as Y/N joined them. “You’re not comfortable with Eunbyeol, are you?”

Y/N’s only response was another soft smile, but it was enough. Yerim stepped closer beside her, giving her a knowing look.

Across the field, Harin said nothing, but her shoulders had tensed. She’d expected it. And yet, as she watched Y/N retreat, the sting felt sharper than she expected. Not because she felt abandoned — but because Y/N had made a choice.

And it hadn’t been her.

At night, the seashore by the hotel was transformed by moonlight — paper lanterns glowed gold and orange in the arms of the students who held them, ready to be released into the sky. A quiet hush had fallen over the group, broken only by giggles and soft murmurs as they scribbled wishes onto the sides of their lanterns with marker.

Y/N stood with Yerim, Sooji, Jaehyung, and Jaeun, laughing softly as she recapped Jaehyung’s scribbled wish — something about MONSTAX’s comeback.

Dozens of glowing orbs floated upward, illuminating the shore in a warm, weightless glow. The girls tilted their heads back, eyes wide as the lanterns danced into the night sky.

Everyone was looking up.

Except Harin.

Her group’s lantern lifted slowly beside her, glowing bright against the inky darkness, but she only watched it for a second. Her gaze shifted, drawn like gravity.

There she was.

Y/N stood at the edge of the shore, head tilted to the stars, lips parted slightly in quiet awe. The flicker of lantern light played on her features, softening her profile, catching in the strands of her hair.

Harin didn’t realize she was staring until Eunbyeol nudged her gently. “You’re not watching ours.”

Harin didn’t answer.

How could she explain that watching Y/N was more mesmerizing than anything floating in the sky?

How does she just… stand there and look like that?

She didn’t have the answer. And it infuriated her.

The school had rented out a paintball arena, complete with temporary cover zones and color-coded gear. The girls of Class 2-5 were divided into teams, but the rules were clear: whoever got hit at least three times would be gathered afterward for a consequence.

Predictably, the losers were:

Sooji, Jaeun, Jaehyung, Jiae, and Eunjong.

The five of them stood in a huddle at the center of the field, hearts pounding as Eunbyeol explained what would happen next.

“The prisoner’s dilemma. You’ll expose each other’s mistakes like this,” she announced, pulling the gun’s trigger to splatter a paintball on Sooji. “’You crossed the line by saying you’d get rid of the game.’ It’s over once you run out of paintballs. If you expose more of your friend’s mistakes, your chance of survival will go up.”

The rest of the class circled like vultures — waiting, whispering. Harin wanted a crack. A betrayal. Friendship getting shattered. Just so they could get an F-ranker to bring back the balance of the Pyramid Game.

Jaeun and Sooji exchanged uncertain glances. Jaehyung tried to laugh it off, but tension crackled in the air. Everyone was at a standstill for what felt like forever.

Then came Eunbyeol’s voice, sweet and sharp like a blade dipped in honey. She turned to Dayeon and whispered, “Harin’s sending you a signal. Do you want Baek Harin to go nuts again?”

Dayeon’s jaw tightened.

Whether it was fear, pride, or pressure — she snapped.

She stormed toward the circle, eyes locking on Jiae.

“You,” she spat. “Do you think I can’t come after you if you’re not in Grade F?”

Jiae stepped back, lips trembling.

“That’s enough,” Eunjong said, stepping in front of her. “This isn’t how we do this.”

Dayeon’s eyes flashed. “What are you, her bodyguard now?”

Eunjong shoved her and that’s when Dayeon lost it. She kicked Eunjong, punched her and picked her up just to throw her to a wall.

And in the middle of it all, Y/N moved.

“Stop it!” she shouted, pushing between them, hands raised. “You can’t just attack people—”

That was when Dayeon turned on her, rage boiling over. She shoved Y/N with both hands. Hard.

Y/N stumbled, slamming into the side of a wooden barricade, her head knocking with a sickening thud. She collapsed to the ground in a heap. She didn’t get back up.

The class went dead silent.

Sooji gasped. Jaehyung cursed under her breath. Yerim was already running forward.

But someone else moved faster.

Harin.

She shoved past the crowd, her face pale, controlled exterior cracking as she dropped to her knees beside Y/N.

“Y/N?” Her voice was hoarse.

She touched Y/N’s shoulder, shook her gently. “Hey. Wake up.”

Nothing.

“Someone call 911!” Yerim called out, frantic.

But Harin couldn’t look away. Her hands trembled slightly as she brushed Y/N’s hair out of her face.

“You shouldn’t have stepped in,” she whispered, voice nearly broken. “Why do you keep putting yourself in the middle of everything?”

Y/N’s head lolled slightly, unconscious but breathing. Harin pressed her hand to Y/N’s cheek. Cold. She turned her eyes on Dayeon, who was frozen in place.

“What the hell did you do?!”

No one dared speak.

“Kim Dayeon, you’d better pray she wakes up,” Harin hissed.

And around her, the class watched in stunned silence — because Baek Harin didn’t kneel for anyone.

Except her.

An ambulance was called in immediately to take Y/N to the nearest private hospital. She laid unconscious on the bed, a bandage around her head, the private suite lit only by the soft glow of a lamp.

Harin hadn't left her side.

She sat with her arms crossed, but not in her usual disinterested pose — more like she was holding herself together. Every time Y/N stirred, even slightly, Harin straightened with such tension it was obvious she’d been replaying everything in her head. Over and over.

The others had been dismissed. Dayeon, reportedly, was being handled — no one knew what that meant, but when Baek Harin said someone was “handled,” it was never gentle.

But none of that mattered right now.

Just Y/N. Just her closed eyes. Her quiet breathing.

Harin didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Y/N’s fingers twitched.

“Y/N?” Her voice cracked, soft. Fragile in a way no one would recognize.

Y/N groaned, head turning slightly.

Harin stood so fast the chair nearly toppled.

“Don’t move,” Harin whispered, hand hovering over her shoulder. “You hit your head. Idiot.”

Y/N blinked slowly. “You’re still here?”

“You jumped in a pool for me,” Harin said, voice uneven. “You think I wouldn’t sit through a little concussion?”

That made Y/N laugh a little. “You sound worried.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying.”

Pause.

“Maybe.”

Their eyes met for longer than they ever had before.

“I’m supposed to hate you,” Harin muttered.

“I know,” Y/N whispered. “I’m supposed to be scared of you.”

“I know,” Harin echoed.

A beat of silence.

“You scared me today,” Y/N admitted. “But not like before.”

Harin looked away, swallowing hard. “Then how?”

“You looked like someone who cared.”

Harin wanted to scoff. To say something cruel. To deflect.

Instead, she said, “I told Dayeon if you didn’t wake up, I’d ruin her.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “Did you mean it?”

“I never say anything I don’t mean.”

And that scared Harin most of all. Because for the first time, maybe she meant everything.

A week after Busan, things weren’t the same.

Not that anyone said it outright, but Y/N felt it. In the way hallways hushed slightly when she passed. In the way people stopped pretending that Baek Harin didn’t care about anything.

And Dayeon — once Baekyeon’s unofficial enforcer, the loudest voice at Harin’s side — now sat two rows back in class, B-rank sticker dull on her desk. She hadn’t dared look Harin in the eye since the trip.

Y/N hadn’t spoken to Harin much, either. But something had changed, and everyone could feel it. Like the power in the room had tilted just slightly — and for once, not everything was in Harin’s favor.

She should’ve been used to Harin’s eyes on her by now.

But ever since Busan, it wasn’t the same stare. It wasn’t cold or calculating. It wasn’t like she was being assessed for weakness. It was quieter, steadier. Like Harin was watching not for what Y/N might do, but for what might happen to her.

And that was the most dangerous part because it made Y/N feel seen in a way she didn’t know how to handle.

It started in class — during history, when someone made a half-hearted jab about Y/N “playing hero” in Busan. The words barely left the girl’s mouth before Harin, from across the room, turned slowly in her seat.

“Say that again,” she said, voice flat, sharp as a blade.

The girl swallowed her words and stared at her desk.

Y/N had just blinked. Harin didn’t even look at her afterward. She just returned to her notes like it hadn’t happened at all.

Then again, during gym, when Dayeon “accidentally” knocked Y/N’s bottle off the bench. Before Y/N could even bend down to pick it up, Harin was already walking over, silent and slow. Dayeon suddenly remembered she had to be somewhere else.

Y/N picked up the bottle herself. “You don’t have to do that.”

Harin paused before murmuring, “I know. But I want to.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “So that’s your thing now? Silent guardian?”

“No one touches you again. Not without going through me.”

“You say that like I’m yours to protect.”

The air shifted.

Harin stepped closer, voice lower. “Aren’t you?”

Y/N’s breath caught, heart a stutter against her ribs. She looked away. “You don’t own me, Harin.”

“But I’m starting to wish I did.”

Harin didn’t wait for a response. She turned and walked away — fast, like she’d said too much.

The heat between them had been simmering for weeks, and now it was crackling just beneath the surface.

They sat in the same room, both pretending to read. Y/N stared blankly at the words in her textbook, hyper-aware of Harin’s presence at the opposite end of the room.

“Do you always have to pick fights for me?” Y/N finally asked, not looking up.

Harin closed her book slowly. “They picked the fights. I just ended them.”

“You make it harder when you do that.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Y/N hesitated. “I want to know why you’re doing it.”

Silence.

Harin stood, walked over, and sat down at the desk across from her.

“I’m not doing this for them,” she said simply. “I’m not even doing it because it’s right.”

She leaned forward, voice low.

“I’m doing it because it’s you.”

Y/N held her breath. She didn’t move, didn’t even blink.

“You confuse me, Park Y/N,” Harin continued. “You make me want to protect something I’ve spent years breaking.”

Y/N’s lips parted, but the door clicked open.

They both turned — and the tension dissolved like it had never been there.

Y/N wanted to say something, but she couldn’t. Not yet, when everything was still cloudy and confusing in her mind. So, she went to the place she always ran to whenever she needed time to think. Away from people, away from home.

She now sat on the rooftop bench alone, trying to make sense of everything. The door creaked again.

Yerim.

She sat beside her without a word, tucking her hair behind her ear before breaking the silence.

“So... how long has that been going on?”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. I’m not the one who nearly murdered Dayeon with my eyes when she bumped into Harin in the hallway.”

Y/N sighed. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh?” Yerim smirked. “Then tell me what it is, because Baek Harin has never looked at anyone the way she looks at you.”

Y/N looked down at her hands.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It’s like she’s trying. Like she wants to be different. But I can’t tell if it’s real or if I’m just... a challenge.”

“Do you want it to be real?”

Y/N didn’t answer and that was answer enough.

Yerim leaned back. “Then you better figure it out before she breaks your heart. Or worse — before you break hers.”

A month after Busan was Baekyeon Group’s annual gala — a place where empires gathered and alliances solidified over toasts and false laughter. The luxurious venue with mountains views screamed a rather sophisticated ambience. Crystals dripped from chandeliers like falling stars, champagne flutes clinked, and the scent of money and influence floated heavier than the perfume worn by the city’s most elite.

Y/N had been to events like this all her life. Her father, a key figure in logistics and development, always made sure she looked the part. Hair perfectly pinned, gown flowing, posture unshakable. A model heiress.

But nothing could prepare her for Baek Harin, standing across the room in obsidian silk — sharp, poised, and devastating in a way that felt like gravity.

And the moment their eyes met, the world narrowed to a line.

Harin was surrounded — executives, board members, men twice her age falling over themselves to speak with her like she wasn’t seventeen. But her gaze flicked to Y/N, and stuck. For once, she made no move to hide it.

Y/N swallowed hard, offering a small nod before moving toward the refreshment table, past Dayeon in blood-red satin and Doah making conversation with a finance heir’s son. It was a maze of masks, all pretending not to be what they really were.

She was about to reach for a glass when a man she didn’t recognize — sharp suit, the unmistakable arrogance of inherited power — cut her off.

“You’re Park Y/N, aren’t you?” His smile was too slick. “The logistics princess. Didn’t expect someone so... unguarded.”

Y/N smiled politely. “That’s because I’m not a fortress.”

“Well,” he leaned in, “maybe you should be.”

She took a step back, but he matched it. Close enough to be discomforting. She glanced around, but her father was deep in conversation, and most others were too engrossed in their own egos to notice.

Then a hand curled gently around her wrist. Not possessive. Just... steady. Maybe.

Harin.

Her expression didn’t shift as she turned to the man. “She’s spoken for.”

The man blinked. “Excuse me?”

Harin tilted her head, that calm, unshakable frost in her voice. “I’d be more careful with your words. Your father wouldn’t want to lose our investment over something as stupid as a misstep with my guest.”

Guest.

Y/N didn’t have time to react before the man backed off with a quiet curse and a forced smile, disappearing into the crowd.

Still stunned, she stared at Harin.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” Harin said simply, already turning away.

But Y/N followed her this time.

The private lounge was quieter, darker — just soft classical music playing behind closed doors. Harin didn’t flinch when Y/N pushed the door shut.

“You’re confusing me,” Y/N said, breathless, like she’d been holding it in all night. “I don’t know what you want from me, Harin.”

Harin turned slowly.

“I’m trying to figure that out too.”

“You tested me,” Y/N said, stepping closer, voice rising. “You mocked me. You made me vote against people who did nothing wrong. I thought I was just a pawn in whatever game you were playing—”

“You weren’t.”

“Then what am I, Harin? Your friend? Your ally? Your... project?”

Silence.

Y/N laughed bitterly. “Because I don’t know whether you want to break me or protect me.”

Harin’s jaw tensed.

“I wanted to see what you’d do,” she admitted. “What someone like you would become if I pushed hard enough.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “And?”

“I hate how much you stayed the same.”

Y/N faltered.

“I hate that no matter what I did, you were still good,” Harin said, her voice finally cracking around the edges. “I hate that when I needed saving, it was you. I hate that the person who makes me feel safest is also the one person I can’t control.”

Y/N took a breath. “Is that why you protected me tonight?”

Harin looked away. “I don’t want to see anyone else touch you.”

That stopped her cold. Slowly, Y/N walked up to her.

“You say things like that,” she whispered, “but you never stay close enough for me to believe them.”

Harin met her eyes again. And for the first time, she didn’t hide behind calculation.

“I’m scared,” she said quietly. “Of what you make me feel.”

Y/N didn’t speak. She just reached up, brushing her hand lightly against Harin’s hair.

“Then stop pushing me away,” she said. “Because I’m tired of guessing.”

It was another one of those cloudy mornings that made the fluorescent classroom lights feel even harsher at Baekyeon High.

Y/N was seated at her desk by the window, quietly annotating the reading for their literature class. Harin, in her usual place — one desk behind, a seat to the right — pretended to be reading, but her eyes lifted every so often, subtle and precise, like she was keeping track of the way Y/N furrowed her brow while thinking.

Then the door slammed open.

Kim Dayeon.

B-rank sticker still fresh on her desk, like it had been burned into her skin.

She hadn’t taken her fall quietly. There was tension behind her smile now, a bitterness in her laugh that curdled when it dawdled too long. Dayeon walked to her seat, tossing her bag down hard enough that a few people flinched. She didn’t sit immediately — instead, she walked toward Y/N’s desk, too casually to be casual.

“Funny, isn’t it?” she said, voice loud enough to cut through the hum of class chatter. “A girl like you, getting everyone’s sympathy. Jumping into pools. Defending losers.”

Y/N didn’t look up. “Did you need something, Dayeon?”

Dayeon smirked. “No. Just wondering when you’ll stop pretending you’re better than the rest of us.”

That got heads turning. Y/N’s pen paused mid-line. “I’ve never pretended anything.”

“Oh?” Dayeon stepped closer. “Then what’s your secret, Park Y/N? How does someone like you stay in Grade A, even after breaking the rules? Even after messing with the game?”

The silence in the room was immediate.

Dayeon’s smile widened. “Or maybe you just got lucky. Maybe someone made sure you stayed where you are.”

Y/N met her gaze evenly. “If you have something to say, say it.”

“I’m saying maybe you’re the reason I dropped and stayed at B.” There it was — the real venom. “Maybe Harin let you float while the rest of us sank.”

A breath of stillness.

“No.” Harin’s voice was soft. But it cut.

Everyone turned.

She hadn’t raised her voice. She hadn’t stood. But the room froze.

Dayeon blinked. “What?”

“I don’t need to justify her rank to you,” Harin said, turning the page of her book slowly. “Y/N didn’t drop you. You did that yourself.”

Dayeon’s mouth opened, but Harin didn’t look at her again.

“I suggest you sit down, before I start wondering why you’re still in B.”

Silence. Dayeon stiffened, then slowly turned and walked back to her desk, lips pressed tight.

Harin didn’t look up. But when Y/N shifted slightly to the side, she caught Harin’s reflection in the window — the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Protective. Precise. Quietly proud. Y/N bit back a smile.

And everyone else in class? They noticed. Because now, Baek Harin had picked a side — and it wasn’t her own.

“I’ve never seen Harin defend someone like that,” someone whispered.

“No. She defended Y/N. That’s different.”

“Are they—?”

“I mean, they always sit near each other now…”

Harin caught some of it — low murmurs trailing behind the girls in pleated skirts and navy uniforms. She didn’t react. Didn’t even twitch.

When the door finally clicked shut behind the last student for lunch, Harin spoke up.

“You should’ve said something back to her.”

Y/N looked up from her book. “I didn’t need to.”

“I know,” Harin said, finally standing. “But I wanted you to.”

There was a beat of quiet. Harin walked over slowly, her steps quieter than usual, almost hesitant.

“I didn’t expect you to step in,” Y/N said softly. “Not like that.”

Harin stopped in front of her desk. “I didn’t expect to want to.”

Y/N stared at her for a few seconds more before she looked down at her table and started packing her things. Yerim was probably waiting for her outside.

Just before she stood up, Harin cleared her throat. “Anyway, there’s a business thing this weekend. I was asked to bring someone. Usually Doah comes, but… I’d rather you did.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Why?”

“Our families work together. It won’t be suspicious.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

A beat.

“You’re not curious why I asked you?”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Are you going to tell me?”

Harin looked over at her, expression unreadable. “No.”

But then, softer: “But I hope you say yes anyway.”

Y/N didn’t reply — just stared back, long and quiet, until Harin had to look away first.

“I’ll think about it.”

The wind was cooler up at the rooftop. Late afternoon sunlight stretched golden across the buildings, casting long shadows that softened the brutal concrete edges.

Y/N sat cross-legged against the railing, a plastic drink bottle beside her, half-empty. Yerim leaned back beside her, eyes closed against the sun. A few feet away, Jaeun and Jaehyung sat on a blanket they’d brought up — apparently part of some makeshift “no thoughts, just vibes” after-school routine.

Sooji sat near the door, legs dangling over the ledge of the low bench.

It was quiet, peaceful even. For once, no whispers of rankings, of rumors. Just the faint chatter of students far below and the occasional rustle of wind.

“She asked you to go with her?” Yerim asked, popping one eye open.

Y/N nodded slowly. “To the weekend event. They’re visiting the orphanage to meet some kids since they’re opening a new playground.”

Jaehyung whistled low. “That's... intimate.”

“She said it wasn’t suspicious because our families are connected,” Y/N replied, and then added, “But I think there’s more to it.”

Jaeun just smiled faintly.

Sooji let out a dry chuckle. “Of course there is. Maybe it’s strategic. Or personal.”

Y/N looked down at her fingers. “So which one am I?”

That was when Jaehyung leaned back on her palms, tilting her head toward Y/N. “You don’t notice it, huh?”

“Notice what?”

She smirked. “She’s different with you. You walk into a room and she stops biting people’s heads off. Her eyes track you like a magnet.”

Y/N flushed slightly. “I—”

“She listens,” Jaeun added softly. “Only to you.”

Sooji crossed her arms, gaze suddenly sharper. “That’s what’s crazy.”

Y/N glanced up.

“People like Harin,” Sooji said, “they don’t change for anyone. They’re made of steel, not water. They bend for no one — unless they want to drown.”

Yerim nodded, sitting forward now. “If she’s changing for you, that’s not nothing. But you better be sure you know what that means. For her. And for you.”

Y/N was quiet. She looked out across the horizon — the distant sea just barely visible between rooftops.

“Do you think I’m in over my head?”

Yerim smiled, half-soft, half-sad. “I think she already pulled you in. Question is, do you want to swim or keep pretending you’re not underwater?”

No one spoke after that.

The sky burned a little orange, and Y/N sat there, quietly thinking about how much Harin’s eyes resembled storms — and how lately, they didn’t seem to scare her as much anymore.

The lights in Baek Harin’s bedroom were dim — only the floor lamp in the corner remained on, casting long shadows across the polished floor and pale walls.

Harin sat on the floor beside her low table, one knee tucked under her chin. Another glass chessboard in front of her gleamed faintly under the amber light, pieces mid-game from a match she never finished. The white queen had tipped onto its side, fallen.

She stared at it.

Usually, chess helped her think. It was clean. Logical. Cause and effect. Move and counter. But tonight, every time she picked up a piece, her mind wandered back to the classroom.

Y/N’s voice. Her smile when she didn’t realize anyone was watching. That unreadable look on her face after the invitation.

Harin didn’t know what to do with it.

Her fingers hovered over the knight, then stilled.

She probably told Yerim and Sooji, she thought. They’re probably warning her by now.

That should have made her angry.

It didn’t.

It made her stomach twist.

What was she doing?

She had invited Y/N like it was nothing, like it was expected. But it wasn’t. Nothing about this had been normal.

Ever since that damn school trip.

The way Y/N had jumped into the pool without hesitation. The way she had smiled gently at Jaehyung when she chose her roommates — chose someone else. The way she had stood between Dayeon and Eunjong like she didn’t care what the game demanded.

And the way she had collapsed.

Harin’s hands clenched on her knee.

She hadn’t meant to care. She had meant to break her — test her like she tested everyone.

But Y/N never broke. She bent, again and again, but she never broke.

And now Harin was the one unraveling.

She pushed herself up abruptly, pacing across the room, arms crossed, her thoughts louder than her footsteps.

Should I talk to her?

She imagined the conversation.

“Stop being nice to everyone. It makes me want to set the world on fire.”

No. That was psychotic.

“Don’t smile at Jaehyung like that.”

Even worse.

“Are you doing this to me on purpose?”

Too desperate.

She stopped pacing, back to the window.

For the first time in her life, Baek Harin didn’t know what to say.

Not to a rival. Not to an opponent. Not even to a threat. But to someone who had started mattering in ways she never gave permission for. And she hated it.

It was another Monday morning at Baekyeon High. The hallways buzzed with the low chatter of students, but Harin heard none of it.

She stood just outside Class 2-5’s door, fingers brushing her sleeve as she stared through the small glass panel in the frame. Y/N was already at her desk, talking softly with Yerim and Sooji. She looked calm. Comfortable.

Untouched by the war Harin had been waging with herself all weekend.

She had come here to talk.

But now that she stood there, watching the way Y/N’s lips curved into a smile — soft, sincere, never for show — the words slipped from her grasp like water.

What would she even say?

“You make me feel like I’m not the one in control anymore”?

No.

“Stop making me want to be good”?

Pathetic.

A sharp voice pulled her attention.

“Harin-ah,” Eunbyeol called, walking up with Doah and Dayeon. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Harin looked at her. “You go ahead.”

The three girls glanced at one another — unsure what she was doing, but not brave enough to question it out loud. They filed into the classroom while Harin stayed.

Y/N’s head lifted slightly as the door opened, eyes scanning the new arrivals — and for a moment, her gaze flicked toward the door.

Their eyes met. Only for a second. And in that second, Harin felt everything she hadn’t said clench in her throat.

Y/N offered her the faintest nod, polite but unreadable, before turning back to her conversation.

Harin stared for a moment longer. Then turned and walked away.

The weekend’s event wasn’t the usual glossy, high-profile gala that their fathers attended in pressed suits. There were no champagne flutes or velvet carpets. Just the gravel crunching under their shoes and the bright, painted arch of a brand-new playground entrance.

The Baekyeon Group was sponsoring the opening of a new playground and library wing at the children’s orphanage. Press would be there. So would some executives. But most of all, children.

Harin had asked her to come. Hidden behind a business pretense. Y/N knew better, but still, the doubt pressed at the back of her mind. She had meant to tell Harin her answer to the invitation, but the morning she planned to, Harin had walked away and skipped school entirely. Special workshop, they said.

Now, they stood together in the courtyard, matching beige overcoats shielding them from the late morning breeze.

The children were already running toward the swings, laughing, bright-eyed. One of them tugged at Y/N’s hand — a little girl with ink-stained fingers and uneven pigtails.

“Unnie, do you want to push me?”

Y/N smiled. “Of course.”

As she walked off, Harin stood still.

Her grandmother was giving a statement to the local press. Their fathers were shaking hands in the background.

But Harin only watched Y/N.

The way her hair caught the sunlight. The way she crouched beside the kids without hesitation. The way her smile was never forced.

An assistant stepped beside Harin. “Ms. Harin, should we proceed with the photo ops?”

Harin barely glanced at her. “In a minute.”

She kept her gaze on Y/N.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t care who saw her doing it.

The laughter outside was still echoing faintly through the windows, but the library was a world apart — quiet, warm, dust motes drifting through golden light as it filtered through sheer curtains.

Y/N stood near the small bookshelf in the far corner, fingers brushing the spine of a weathered fairy tale collection. Her coat was folded over her arm, a single yellow crayon mark trailing down her sleeve where one of the kids had hugged her too tightly.

She didn’t mind.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Harin’s voice came from the doorway, soft but distinct.

Y/N didn’t turn around at first. “Not hiding. Just needed a little silence.”

“I know.”

Harin stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her. The hush settled heavier between them now, like even the dust didn’t want to move.

Y/N finally looked at her, one brow raised. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Harin stilled.

“That morning,” Y/N continued, “you were at the door. You didn’t come in.”

“…You saw that?”

“I always see you.”

Harin’s mouth opened, then closed. She walked slowly to the table at the center of the room and trailed her fingers across the back of a small chair.

“I wanted to say something.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

Harin was quiet. Her fingers tensed.

“I didn’t know what would come out.”

Y/N moved closer, slowly, until they stood on either side of the table, only the wood separating them.

“I’m not asking you to figure everything out in one day, Harin,” Y/N said, voice lower now. “But if you’re going to invite me into your world… don’t keep slamming the door shut once I step through.”

Harin didn’t meet her eyes, not right away.

“You make me forget how I used to be,” she said finally, so quiet it was barely audible.

Y/N blinked.

“You don’t even try, but you ruin my composure. You scare me. Not because I hate you — but because I think you’re the one person I can’t twist.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

Harin looked up now, gaze sharp but vulnerable. “You keep standing there — and I keep choosing you without knowing how to stop.”

Silence.

Then Y/N stepped around the table.

And when she got to Harin, she didn’t say anything. She slowly reached up as her gaze lowered from the taller girl’s eyes and settled to fix Harin’s collar.

For a second, Harin didn’t move.

But then her hand reached up and curled slowly, deliberately, around Y/N’s.

A quiet victory.

No titles. No ranks. No thrones.

Just two girls, suspended in a borrowed moment between who they were and who they were becoming.

Harin never came up the school’s rooftop. It wasn’t exactly her domain — quiet, slightly chaotic, and usually filled with sunlight.

But today, Yerim, who had asked her to come, perched on the ledge, legs dangling over the side with a juice pouch in hand as Harin approached.

“What,” Harin asked flatly, “are you going to push me off?”

Yerim sipped her drink and didn’t look at her. “Tempting.”

Harin stood beside her, arms crossed, waiting.

Yerim finally turned, “You’re being obvious.”

Harin didn’t answer.

“You used to walk through fire and make it look like a dance,” Yerim said. “Now you blink weirdly whenever Y/N talks.”

A muscle in Harin’s jaw twitched.

“You keep hovering. You softened when she was sick. You defended her. You invited her and I know you held her hand.”

Harin looked away.

“So what is it?” Yerim asked, voice quieter. “What are you doing to her?”

Harin didn’t flinch this time.

“That’s the wrong question,” she said. “The question is what she’s doing to me.”

Yerim frowned, “And what is she doing?”

“Undoing me,” Harin murmured. “Everything that I am.”

The wind blew a strand of hair across Yerim’s cheek. She brushed it away slowly.

“You know if you break her, I won’t just sit still.”

“I’m not trying to break her anymore,” Harin said.

Yerim’s eyes sharpened. “Then what are you trying to do?”

Harin looked out at the school grounds below, where students were walking to the gym for afternoon drills.

“I’m trying,” she said, “to figure out how to deserve her.”

Lately, everything felt like it came with a second layer.

When Y/N entered the classroom, she felt eyes flicker to her — not as harshly as before, but differently. With curiosity. With something like calculation. Like they were trying to figure her out all over again.

She wasn’t used to being talked about. Not like this.

Not as Harin’s person.

It had started after the charity event. First with a few stares. Then whispered comments in the halls. One girl even stopped her to ask, “Did you really go with Baek Harin to that orphanage thing?”

Y/N had smiled politely. “It was a family event.”

A technical truth.

But it didn’t explain why Harin had waited for her to arrive. Or the way Harin had pulled her coat over her shoulders when the wind picked up. Or how Harin had held her hand in the library — steady and deliberate, like she had just made a decision.

Y/N had spent the next three days pretending it didn’t rattle her.

But it did.

Because if Harin was changing, then Y/N didn’t know where to place her anymore.

Was she still the girl who played to keep herself in Rank A? The one who watched classmates fall and said nothing?

Or was she now the one who showed up early to class, who let Y/N speak freely in debates without cutting her off, who made Dayeon shut up in front of everyone?

Y/N didn’t know and that scared her.

Because it meant Harin wasn’t predictable anymore. It meant… she might actually care.

Her pen paused mid-sentence in her notes as Yerim’s open notebook slid across her desk.

She’s looking again. Don’t smile. It’s killing her.

Y/N rolled her eyes, fighting a grin.

She didn’t turn to check.

But when she reached up to brush her hair behind her ear, she felt it — the heat of a gaze boring into the back of her neck.

The sky had dulled into late afternoon grey, the air heavy with the stillness that comes after a long day of classes. The back courtyard, usually empty by this time, held the quiet shuffle of someone staying too long where they didn’t want to be found.

Y/N had gone back to retrieve a forgotten notebook, but paused when she heard the click of a lighter.

Rounding the corner, she saw her.

Baek Harin. Sitting on the low ledge by the courtyard steps, one leg bent, a cigarette burning between her fingers.

Smoke curled lazily into the air.

It was the first time in a while Harin had let herself slip — no mask, no posture, just tired.

Y/N stood for a moment, unseen.

Then walked over and plucked the cigarette from Harin’s hand.

Without flinching, she dropped it and crushed it under her shoe.

“That’s not good for you,” Y/N said calmly.

Harin didn’t blink. “Neither are a lot of things I do.”

“But you’re trying not to be that girl anymore, right?” Y/N added, quieter.

Harin looked away. “Trying isn’t always enough.”

Y/N stood beside her now, close but not touching.

“You keep doing this,” she said. “You save me from Dayeon. You ask me to come with you to events. You look at me like I’m the only one in the room…”

Harin stayed silent.

“But then you shut down. You don’t say anything.”

A pause.

“What do you really want from me, Harin?”

That did it.

Harin looked up, and for once, she didn’t have her usual cold armor on. Just tired eyes and something raw beneath them.

“I want you to stay,” she said. “Even though I don’t deserve it.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

“I want you to see every terrible part of me and still… not leave,” Harin continued, voice rougher now. “And I hate that I want that from you.”

“You think I don’t see you?”

“I think you see too much of me.”

The wind rustled the leaves above them.

Harin looked down at her hands, then back at Y/N.

“I’ve never said this to anyone,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “But I think I’m in love with you.”

Y/N didn’t speak. Her expression didn’t crack.

So Harin kept talking.

“I’ve loved you since you ruined everything I thought I understood about kindness. Since you saved me when no one else did. Since you looked me in the eye like I wasn’t someone to fear.”

“You’ve been cruel to me,” Y/N said softly.

“I know.”

“You’ve played with people’s lives.”

“I know.”

Y/N stepped forward. “And yet you’re the first one who ever made me feel like being good mattered. Like it could change something.”

Silence again.

And then, slowly, Y/N took Harin’s hand.

The next Pyramid Game announcement came faster than expected.

Doah stood at the front, phone in hand.

“The 15th Pyramid Game will begin—”

“I’m not voting.”

All eyes turned.

Baek Harin stood at her desk, arms crossed.

Dayeon’s head whipped toward her, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I said, I’m not voting.”

The room froze. Whispers started circling, confused looks pointed towards Harin.

“Anyone who doesn’t vote gets an automatic F,” Doah said coolly.

“I’m aware.”

She met Y/N’s gaze across the room.

And smiled — a real one this time. Soft and grounded.

“I’m done playing this game.”

A week later, there was obvious change in Class 2-5. Everyone remained cautious, not daring to touch Harin even if she had given up on her own game.

The rooftop was quiet. The cherry trees had just begun to bloom, petals drifting in the soft spring air.

Y/N leaned her head against Harin’s shoulder as they sat on the ledge, legs dangling.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t vote.”

“I still can’t believe you thought I would.”

Y/N chuckled. “You really gave up your rank for me?”

“I’m willing to give up everything for you.”

Y/N looked at her, lips curled into a smile.

“You’re dramatic.”

Harin leaned in closer. “You love it.”

“I’m still deciding.”

Harin laughed and it was the first time she’d done so without bitterness in her voice.

She turned to face her, tucking a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear.

“You were never mine to ruin,” Harin whispered. “But if you’ll let me… I want to be yours to fix.”

Y/N leaned in, brushed their foreheads together.

“You’re not broken, Harin.”

Their fingers laced together, and for once, there were no games left to play.

Only truth.

Only them.

A/N: I definitely had to rewatch a few eps to refresh my memory (and for harin)

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

﹒⌗﹒scream ⸝⸝

synopsis :: with people dying every here and there, you never expected that you were the next victim, or that your (almost) murderer was so cute

info :: wlw, f reader, use of yn but it's written in second pov (you), mentions of murderers and threats (like cutting or killing someone) not proofread, if there's anything else please tell me!

Minjeong was the usual nerdy, shy girl that barely anyone knew something about her. Only her group friend that had other three girls talked to her.

Though, she had always caught your attention for some reason.

Being popular and maintaining a persona wasn't the easiest task in the world, especially when you didn't want people to hate you for being the usual mean girl. Which meant you often got remembered as the nice girl who didn't had beef with anyone.

Oh if only they knew how much you hated those people, and that stupid school, and the teachers-

You know what I mean.

But who cares. As long as you kept with the nice girl facade, no one would even bat an eye on how you actually felt.

Everyone was dumb enough to believe in your act anyway. Everyone but Minjeong.

The girl that had something in her that made you wanna know more about her was the only one who wasn't fooled by you and your antics.

Not that you knew that of course. And it didn't help how whenever you tried to say a 'Good morning, Minjeong!' she would just roll her eyes or straight up ignore you. Seriously, what's her problem? And why do you feel the need to get closer to her?

Today, you heard one of your "friends" talk about the new victim. A lot of people have been dying lately, but no one knew why or who was doing this. All they knew, was that they used that ugly mask.

But you didn't wanna think about it. It was way too dark and depressing to talk about those murders, so you opted in pretending you were absolutely clueless about it!

“Have you seen? They made a new victim!”

“Don't say this near yn, she's sensitive..”

“Oh yeah, my bad.”

And that's how your days went, smiling and faking innocence, just wanting to get through high school already.

But Minjeong had other plans.

-

“Hm? Oh, yeah, hahaha. I'll try to not forget about it next time, sorry.”

“You're so careless yn! But it's alright, until next week.”

Finally. You felt so tired.

You were supposed to go out with your friends tonight, but you had no interest in doing so, preferring to just be in the comfort of your home.

But of course they needed a good excuse for you to not go, otherwise they might've showed up in your door forcing you to go with them. Thankfully that's not a problem.

Grabbing the popcorn from the microwave, you opened the window to breath some fresh air, before quickly making your way to the living room.

You sat down on the couch, getting ready to watch a random horror movie. The perfect way to spend a night alone!

Before you could even focus back on the movie playing, someone called you again. Huh? Was your excuse not good enough?

Whatever, just answer it and say you're sick or something.

“Hey, sorry I couldn't go, really-”

“Hello, yn.”

...

What.

Who was this?

How did they know your name?

And what kind of weird voice does this person has?

“Who are you?!” – you tried to not sound too scared while also keeping that mask on. Maybe it was just a prank, it didn't hurt to be safe.

You swear you heard a very quick laugh from the phone, but tried not to think too much about it.

“I just wanna talk to you.”

“Why? Who are you?”

“it's not important. Do you want to play a game with me?”

Okay now that was just weird. You didn't know who this person was, and now they're asking for you to play a game with them.

But something told you, maybe, just maybe it's one of your friends, pranking you. Who knows?

So, you decided to go with the worst option you had.

“What game?”

You tried to do your best sweet voice so maybe the person on the other side of the line would have some kind of mercy on your person.

“A game of questions. I'll just ask you a few things and you answer me honestly, hm? How about that?”

You should just hang up. This is stupid. Probably one of those weirdos from school that hate you for no reason trying to spook you.

... But for some reason you didn't.

“Okay.” – another laugh came from the phone, making you slightly shiver.

“Good choice.”

You anxiously waited on the couch, looking around the living room to find some comfort in the familiarity of your own home.

“Do you like horror movies?”

What an odd question.

“Yeah, I do. Why?”

“Hmm.. What's your favorite horror movie, then?”

“I don't know, I guess slashers? Any kind of slasher as long as it's alright enough it's good for me.”

There was silence for a moment, as if the person on the phone with you was thinking about your answer.

A satisfied hum came from them, and soon spoke up.

“Do you like people dying?”

What. How did we go from movies to this.

“Wh.. What? Of course not. What kind of question is that?”

“Answer the question yn.”

This was the breaking point for you. This was starting to get out of hand, and you were not going to talk with this weird person anymore.

Without thinking twice you hang up, trying to understand what the fuck had just happened.

But before you could get back to your senses and pay attention to the long forgotten movie again, your phone started to ring.

Your hands were trembling, but you hesitantly picked up the call.

“You know it's very rude to hang up in the middle of a conversation?”

There it was, that stupid voice that was making you more nervous than you wanted.

“What do you want?!”

You tried your best to avoid showing how nervous you felt right now, but everything was thrown out of the window when you heard those damn words.

“I want you to just stay right where you are in your living room. Is that 'Stab'?"

What. The. Fuck.

How did they know that? Wait, were they watching you? Oh no. Oh no no no. This wasn't happening.

You quickly closed the curtains in the room, making sure to lock the front door while still holding your phone, and that's when you heard them laughing.

Not chuckling, not giggling, full on laughing.

“You think that's going to help you? You should stop worrying about being friendly to everyone and start worrying about your windows.”

Oh fuck. The kitchen.

Without giving a damn about staying the in living room, you ran to the kitchen and – oh there it was. The open window.

But there was nothing wrong with your kitchen. At least you couldn't see anything.

You slowly went back to the living room, phone in your hand, looking around nervously. You didn't know what to think or to expect right now.

What wasn't on your list was to hear the same voice from your phone right behind you, in your ear.

“You gotta learn to be more careful, ynnie.”

Your surcival instincts kicked in, and you almost turned around. Almost. If it wasn't for the feeling of a knife right against the back of your neck.

“Ah, ah, ah. Don't move..”

There wasn't a single word that could describe the mix of emotions currently inside you.

But the main would definitely be fear.

Is this where your life ends? You never did anything wrong to deserve this! Maybe you did lie every here and there, but come on, who's really 100% honest?

Suddenly you got snapped out of your thoughts by the person – that you could now see the ghostface costume they're wearing – pushing you against a wall, turning you around to face them.

“I like this expression on you better than that fucking stupid persona you have.”

If it was under any other circumstances, you'd have defended yourself. But the knife was still there.

“Everyone else might be dumb enough to believe in those lies you tell everyone, but I'm not. And I don't like liars.”

As they spoke, they slowly got closer. And closer. Until your nose was almost touching the mask on their face.

It was terrifying. But oddly thrilling.

Before you could say something, the masked person suddenly took off the scary mask and –

Wait, what.

“Minjeong?!”

“Oh, you know my name?”

The voice that once sounded so weird from how many effects it had, now was just a normal feminine voice. She tried to hold back a smirk, but seeing the shocked expression you were doing was just too good.

“What-.. Why are you..”

She just held the knife closer to your neck, making you instantly shut up and swallow down any words you had in your tongue.

“Shut up. You're so infuriating. Always having that dumb face on while pretending all the time. It's so annoying.”

Minjeong looked at you, her eyes travelling through your whole figure with annoyance, mixed with something you couldn't exactly put a finger at yet.

“And still.. You still managed to catch my attention. I wish I could just rip this pretty face of yours..”

You almost flinched when she said that. Who wouldn't? Especially with how the knife was almost cutting your neck. And then Minjeong retracted the knife back with a sigh.

“But I can't bring myself to.”

There were zero and a million thoughts in your head at the same time. Minjeong is absolutely crazy, that's for sure. But the angry face she had was so, so cute.

And that thought alone was enough to make you even crazier than her.

“.. You want to kill me because you have a crush on me?”

“Shut up, that's not what I said.”

You really wanted to believe that when Minjeong put that knife on your neck again she wanted to kill you. You really did.

Yet it was so hard to when her cheeks were clearly red despite the lack of light in the room – except for the tv that was still on.

“Why don't you shut me up?”

“I'm going to cut your voice chords off.”

That was so stupid that you only managed to laugh softly, looking at her differently from how you always had. Now you knew why she caught your attention too.

Minjeong took a few deep breaths, calming herself down and then looked at you with a more neutral, yet soft expression on her face.

She got closer to your face, her warm breath against your cheeks giving you a feeling you never thought you'd feel because of her.

“If you tell anyone about me I promise to kill you and everyone in that school.”

“Will I get more late night visits if I keep my mouth shut?”

“Fuck you.”

She almost spat when saying this, but from how quickly Minjeong turned around to hide her face you guessed she was blushing again.

And she definitely was.

Minjeong took a step back and finally took the knife away – which was still scarying you a bit – and gave you a.. A flower? When did she got that? Was it under her costume?

���Here. For you.”

“... You know there are more conventional ways to give someone a flower without threatening to kill them, right?”

She rolled her eyes, holding back the urge to tell you to fuck yourself again. Especially since you were treating this like something completely normal after seeing it was her. Was she not scary enough?

“I'm going.” – you heard Minjeong say, turning around and walking away. But before she stepped away you put a hand on her shoulder, grabbing her attention.

“Wait! Are you going to come back?”

“... Maybe.”

It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no. And that was enough. You just wanted to see Minjeong again without her being the quiet kid from your school, and without pretending.

“Alright. Thank you for the flower Minjeong.”

“Just call me Winter.”

“Huh? Why?”

“It's what my close friends call me.”

You smiled, nodding your head. It was cute she gave you a nickname only her friends knew about.

And with that last interaction, she put on her mask again. You only looked away for two seconds after a loud sound from the tv, and when you looked for Minjeong again, she had disappeared.

Wow. What a night. A good, night.

a/n :: so erm I didn't do my school work but I finished this, so yay?? i hope it's good enough😭

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

nurse shes out again

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

asleep .

synopsis; hanni was never big on physical affection... until she wasnt.

trope; hanni x 6th member!reader, fluff!

wc; 1.2 k

cw; n/a

a/n; i still dont know how to write but i heart hanni so its fine its OKAY its COOL !! just been listening to yearning music and stuff so BAM. aLSO!! i was also thinking of making "asleep among endives" the song attached to this... but idk i love the fluttery feeling of laufey.

It was a known fact by many that Hanni Pham was not one for physical affection— especially in public. Danielle trying to kiss her during a livestream? Dani-ed. Hyein trying to ask for affection? Rejected. Softly. Hell, even your attempts were futile most times. 

Trying to hold her hand in public? Swatted away. Wrapping your arms around her waist while waiting in a line? She's whining out like you’ve just stabbed her. God forbid you try to kiss her hand or cheek (you’ve tried. She screamed.)

You were the opposite of Hanni Pham. Physical affection was one of your top if not the top love language of yours. Every living and breathing moment you had to be in contact with one of the members. Squeezing Hyein’s shoulder reassuringly during an interview, absentmindedly playing with Haerins fingers in the car, tapping and poking Minji’s back just to be a nuisance. It was just a natural everyday habit for you. More often than not, Danielle is the one to frequently reciprocate— she was just as affectionate as you were, after all. It wasn't uncommon to find the two of you within each other's arms, practically melded into one another.

You’ve learned over time that not many people are fans of being touchy. Unfortunate, but that's what Danielle was for. You had come to terms long ago that Hanni would never be interested in indulging in your neediness— not genuinely, at least.

… Or so you thought.

This week has been particularly rough. Back to back to back plans, on top of packed schedules for weeks on end. NewJeans is practically dominating the world, and though the attention and growth to your career was great… you were only human. You were practically still a kid. The world doesn't completely change once you hit twenty.

After what felt like forever, Japan promotions have finally ceased, and you alongside the girls finally have a chance to breathe. You collapse into your dorm bed, welcoming the plush mattress and blankets as you sigh. You genuinely cannot remember the last time you’ve been able to fully relax without an upcoming schedule looming over your head, let alone relax in your own bed.

allowing yourself to be fully enveloped by the blankets and plushies, your eyes close. The muffled sound of Hanni in the nearby shower lulls you almost hypnotically into a drowsy state, leaving you drifting in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes. 

you just about nearly knock out on the spot before you suddenly feel a mass slip into the bed with you. It was a fairly familiar feeling. Though, normally you were the one crawling into the other dorm beds, this was still a welcome experience. Too exhausted to open your eyes, you softly murmur.

“Dani… what’re you doing here…” you say, before subconsciously wrapping your arm around the mystery figure.

Huh. Feels different.

“I.. It's not Dani.”

Your eyes immediately shoot open as the sound of Hanni’s soft voice rings out. Surprised, you look down at the girl in your arms, who’s already settled comfortably in your arms, face buried into your chest. She seems to be avoiding your gaze. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower, with the iconic bobbed wig set off to the side for the night. Her skin was cool to the touch, a welcome contrast to your warm contact.

A soft, almost nervous chuckle leaves your lips as you’re still caught incredibly off guard. “Han?? Whats.. what's up with this?” You try to pick your words carefully, not wanting to scare her off during such a rare event— but to be frank, you were never good with your words and on top of that, you were half asleep.

“M’just tired…”

You must either be dreaming, or this isn't Hanni. Maybe it's Danielle disguised as Hanni? Has Danielle finally managed to crawl into Hanni’s skin before you could? Damn.

The feeling of Hanni’s face burying deeper into your chest snaps you back to reality, and you hold your breath. Body tensing almost comically at this point. What do you do now? She's never willingly brought herself this close to you before. What if she’s just toying with you?

Very hesitantly, you slowly use the arm that's draped over her form to rub soothing circles onto her back. Much to your relief, the vietnamese girl seems to take well to the touch, letting out a soft sigh against your chest as she practically melts into your touch.

“I-Is this okay…?” You quietly whisper, and you get a soft, “mhm..” in response.

Okay, now you’re definitely beginning to overthink this. How does Hanni even like to be touched? Everyone has their own preferences on how to receive physical affection, after all. Physical touch is an art and a skill very few can master, and you were determined to prove you were more than capable.

Danielle had always been a fan of you playing with her hair— especially in its naturally curly form. Maybe Hanni would like the same?

Slowly, your hand begins to trail higher along her back, soon meeting her long, dark hair. You begin to gently card your fingers through the silky locks, resulting in a soft, satisfied hum from Hanni in response. The vietnamese girl was always the one to get the most interesting haircuts during comebacks, though she always made the effort to keep her natural hair as healthy as possible despite everything it's been put through. You don't even know how many times a new wig of just about any color has been slapped onto Hanni’s head. 

Slowly, your fingers find their way up to her scalp. Her poor head must’ve gone through so much– nearly as much as Danielle’s, probably. Massaging her skin softly, Hanni becomes boneless in your arms. She loops her arms around your neck, pulling you impossibly closer as her head cranes towards your touch. The gesture leaves your heart fluttering.

It seems like the touch is unfamiliar for her as well. Her movements are slightly awkward, but not uncomfortable. Neither of you decide to comment on it.

After being practically Hanni-starved for god knows how many years, you’re over the moon. You wanted this moment to stretch on forever. The shorter girl is practically purring against you at this point, absolutely relishing in your magic touch. Your legs tangled together beneath the sheets as your shared body heat fills the room with a welcomed warmth. 

Now relaxing a bit more, you can fully take in the moment. The scent of Hanni’s shampoo fills your nostrils– peaches and cream. You had gifted her that shower set some Christmas ago. Nice to see it was still being put to good use.

The darkness envelops the both of you as a comforting silence passes. Hanni’s warm breath hits your neck as you feel her breathing steady, seemingly enamored by your touch. Her body feels soft, relaxed, and absolutely perfect against yours.

You still weren't sure exactly what prompted Hanni to come into your embrace in the first place. Maybe this would be the last time. Or maybe after another long work week, she’ll find her way back into your bed within the night.

But for now, you two remain comfortably entangled and engulfed by one another, the sound of soft snores filling the air as you slowly drift to sleep, feeling nothing but warmth within her arms.

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

Sneeze | Danielle Marsh

summary: they say 1 sneeze means someone is talking about you, 2 means someone hates you, and 3 means someone loves you. you seem to sneeze each time she is talking with her friends.

warnings: none

tags: dani x fem reader, lowkey hints of crack

WC: 1.2k

sneezing is fine.

i mean, everyone does it. 

a little achooo here and achoo there never hurt anybody.

except each time you sneezed, it was always when a certain someone was talking with all her friends.

“achoo!” another sneeze escaped your lips as your eyes watered slightly. you sniffled, clutching your gym uniform in one hand as you prepared to change.

yunjin gave you a look. “are you sure you haven't just caught a cold? maybe consider putting on a sweater once in a while or, i don't know, not standing in the rain pretending you’re the main character?”

little did she know, you were the main character but i digress. 

“how else am i supposed get my princess to notice me? i ride my bike every single day hoping dani looks out her window and sees me.”

“sees you and then what? ‘look at her goofy ahh! she just got a rock caught in her gears and flew into a bush!’” yunjin laughed, completely unhelpful.

on the other side of the locker room, if you’d been paying attention, you might’ve heard a certain someone talking about you like you were the only girl in the world.

“i swear she does it on purpose just to get me to notice her,” dani whisper shouted to her friends. 

minji rolled her eyes, arms crossed. “i doubt y/n is literally riding her bike past your house just so you’ll notice her. maybe you’re the creep for conveniently ‘gazing out your window’ at the exact same time every day.”

“UM NO, I AM NOT? i simply happened to gaze uponith my window and see thy creature of great beauty,” dani said, clasping her hands dramatically over her chest.

“okay romeo, pack it up,” hanni muttered, slapping dani lightly on the cheek like a disappointed mom.

meanwhile, you and yunjin had just finished changing.

“achoo!”

yunjin jumped. “bitch i swear, if you get me sick i’m dragging you with me into the fiery pits of hell. i have a concert on friday. your sick little loser germs are not about to ruin that.”

“i swear i’m not sick! it’s always when i’m in this class. can pollen even get into locker rooms? i don’t have a sore throat or anything!”

“maybe it’s a sign you just need to be put down,” yunjin said, ruffling your hair like you were a dog. 

“i ain’t no dog, get your crusty hands off me,” you huffed, swatting her away.

from across the room, someone was fuming.

dani’s smile faded as she watched the two of you bicker. “there’s no way they’re not dating, right? come on. i thought i had a chance! our last conversation was so good!”

hyein tilted her head. “didn’t you just ask to borrow a pencil and never return it?”

“and now it sits in my pencil holder at home where no harm shall ever befall it.”

“cringey ass,” haerin murmured under her breath.

as everyone began to file out, you realized something.

“ah shit. i’m gonna lose marks for being a safety hazard or something.” you started rummaging through your bag. “yunjin, do you have a spare hair tie? pleaseeee?”

you looked at her with the most dramatic puppy dog eyes imaginable, hands clasped together like a pleading victorian child.

“no,” she said flatly.

“...”

“but i think dani carries extras with her.”

not thinking much of it, you made your way toward dani’s group as nonchalantly as you could, so nonchalant in fact, you could’ve sworn you heard the voices in your head go, “omg is that the nonchalant dread head??”

as you approached, the group suddenly fell silent. dead silent. did you stink or something?

“oh y/n, what’s up?” hanni asked casually, though her smile looked a little too bright.

fidgeting with the waistband of your gym shorts, you muttered, “uh, yunjin said dani had spare hair ties… was wondering if i could borrow one?”

dani’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “here! just make sure to return it after class, okay?” she said, digging through her bag with way too much enthusiasm.

“ah thanks! you’re the best!”

you turned and walked back to yunjin, feeling a little weird about how the group had just… stopped.

“yunjin, i think i have aura.”

“y/n your stink isn’t aura. that’s just bad hygiene.”

“HELLO? NO! when i walked over they just stared at me like i was a ghost or something.”

“well, if someone randomly approached me, i’d stop talking and stare too.”

“okay hater :/”

you were about to continue when-

“achoo!”

“man, maybe there’s like dust in here or something,” you grumbled, dragging yunjin out of the locker room with you.

meanwhile, dani was having a breakdown.

“she said i was the best, guys. i should start planning the wedding now,” dani whispered, then screamed, then whispered again. she bounced in place, violently shaking haerin’s shoulders.

hyein stared at her, unimpressed. “this is a whole new level of delusion, i fear.”

“shhh,” dani hissed, placing a finger on hyein’s lips while watching you and yunjin disappear down the hall.

“ugh why yunjin?” she groaned. “curse you! that’s supposed to be me!”

“someone slap her or i will,” hanni muttered, rubbing her temples.

gym class was uneventful… or at least, that’s what you’d say if you weren’t sneezing every two seconds.

“kazuha, i think i’m gonna google my symptoms. it’s probably cancer,” you sighed, sipping water on the bench. volleyball wasn’t really your sport, but you had a couple solid hits now and then.

kazuha turned to you. “you know, there’s a superstition where one sneeze means someone’s talking about you. two sneezes, someone hates you.”

you laughed. “and what’s three sneezes, huh?”

“that means someone loves you~”

you hadn’t sneezed three times in a row. a bummer, really. not that you’d mind someone liking you.

if anything, you had been liking someone for a while now.

that someone being-

“DANI! SPIKE IT!” hanni yelled from the court.

you turned to watch just in time to see dani jump and slam the volleyball over the net.

“stop staring so hard, you look constipated,” kazuha said, smacking your arm. yunjin plopped down beside you with a sigh.

“is y/n staring at her sweet dani again?”

“yep.”

“guys, can you blame me? she’s literally the light of my life. like literally. she’s so bright and perfect and-”

you launched into a full on speech about dani, using dramatic hand gestures and metaphors as kazuha and yunjin exchanged glances.

across the gym, dani glanced toward the benches and saw you laughing, eyes crinkled and head thrown back as you explained something to your friends. her heart sank.

“-and i know this is weird, but i’d buy her anything she wanted! not even in the ‘i’m rich’ way, but in the ‘i’ll go broke for you any day’ kind of way.”

“okay lover girl, chill. you haven’t even told her you like her.”

“YET.”

after class, you made your way back to the locker room, hair tie in hand.

you approached dani again, holding it out. “hey uh, thanks for the hair tie. here you go.”

dani saw this as her last opportunity to ask you out before you fell into the clutches of someone else. 

she took the hair tie before her eyes focused on yours. “hey, actually… do you maybe wanna get lunch or something after school?”

you smiled. “yeah, i’d love to.”

as dani turned to leave with her friends, grinning from ear to ear, you felt the tickle in your nose again.

“achoo! achooo! achooo!”

you blinked.

three sneezes.

huh.

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

Soft art to recover from the final episode of friendly rivalry.

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

Friendly Rivalry

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

Been listening to opm love longs these days.

Am I in love? No. Pero kinikilig? Yes.

ben&ben i love your music so much please don't die

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

PUTANGINAAAAAA

Halfway to Something

Summary: Y/N didn’t expect to get close to either of the Jang sisters — let alone both. But somehow, she gets caught between Wonyoung and Daah. Both close, protective, loyal. And somehow, they both start falling for the same girl.

Genre: love triangle :>

Word Count: 3.1k words

Jang Wonyoung x fem!reader x Jang Daah

A/N: not proofread nor do I think it's amazing but oh well, here it is

It’s a new term at Yonsei University and a few transfer students have been accepted to some select departments. Y/N wasn’t the “new kid” exactly, but new enough to be a name no one really knows yet.

During the university org fair, she signs up for two things: the creative writing club (because she’s always loved words) and the student volunteer network (because she was trying to be good this year — well-rounded, balanced, responsible).

And that’s where she meets them. At the same table.

A tall girl, wearing a leather jacket over a frilled dress, stands in front of the org booth with a clipboard in hand and a bright smile.

“Hi! Thinking of joining?” she says, cheerful and open, her long hair and wispy bangs catching the late afternoon light.

Right beside her sits a girl who resembles her to the tee, but less bubbly, more reserved. She’s reading something, a pen in her hand, barely looking up when she says, “You should. We do real work.”

Y/N blinks, caught between two voices, two presences. One warm. One cool. One inviting. One intriguing.

And for some reason, she can’t decide which one makes her chest feel tighter.

Miss-leather-jacket-girl laughs softly. “Ignore her. She scares off new recruits all the time. I’m Wonyoung, by the way.”

The one sitting down finally lifts her eyes. They meet yours — sharp, steady, searching. “Daah.”

“Are you two…?” Y/N asks, gesturing vaguely between them.

“Sisters,” they say at the exact same time.

From there, things just… unfold. Y/N becomes part of the org and gets to know them both — not at the same pace, not in the same way.

Wonyoung becomes her friend first. She invites Y/N to sit beside her in meetings, tags her in memes, drags her to milk tea runs. Wonyoung teases Y/N, calls her nicknames she comes up with, but there’s always a flicker in her eyes sometimes — like she’s hoping Y/N will see past the friendliness.

Daah is harder to get close to, but she notices everything. Remembers the kind of coffee Y/N likes. Calls her out when she’s zoning out during tasks. The older Jang doesn’t smile often, but when she does — just once, when Y/N offers to stay and help her clean up — it knocks the air out of her lungs.

In just a few months, the bond between Y/N and the Jang sisters deepen. Late-night walks after org events. Wonyoung’s fingers brushing hers. A quiet conversation on a library balcony. Daah looking at Y/N like she’s trying not to feel something.

The org is hosting a weekend planning session — nothing fancy, just a few members in a reserved campus conference room, surrounded by half-eaten snacks and open laptops.

As usual, Y/N was seated between Daah and Wonyoung. It wasn’t intentional.

At least… Y/N didn’t think it was.

Wonyoung leans closer to whisper something about how the meeting is dragging on, her breath tickling Y/N’s ear. Her fingers tap lightly against hers under the table. “If they spend ten more minutes talking about logistics,” she murmurs, “I swear I’m pretending to faint.”

Y/N bites back a laugh.

Across her, Daah glances up from her notes. She doesn’t say anything. Just watches. Quietly. Long enough that Wonyoung notices.

Wonyoung meets her gaze for a second too long. Then turns to Y/N again, all sugar and charm. “What do you think, Y/N-nie? Should we take over the org? Restructure the system?”

“That’s so Wonyoung of you,” you tease.

She winks. “You like that about me.”

And before Y/N can respond, before the heat in her chest calms, Daah speaks.

Flat. Calm. Measured. “Not everything has to be turned into a performance, Wony.”

The room quiets slightly, just for a beat. Wonyoung stiffens beside Y/N.

Y/N glances between them, unsure if she missed something.

The younger Jang smiles — a tight, practiced version. “It’s called charisma, unnie. Look it up.”

Daah exhales. “Charisma doesn’t always mean attention.”

Y/N shifts in her seat. It’s subtle, but she can feel it now — the current tugging underneath the surface of their closeness. They’re still smiling, still speaking politely, but something’s changed. They’re watching each other more carefully.

They’re watching Y/N more carefully.

And for the rest of the meeting, no one reaches for the snacks, because Wonyoung’s hand stays near Y/N’s, and Daah’s eyes never quite leave her face.

At the end of the meeting, Y/N is the last one to pack up — stuffing papers into her tote, unplugging her charger, trying not to think about how weirdly tense things got between the sisters. She tells herself maybe it’s nothing. Maybe they’re just... like that sometimes.

Daah’s still there when she zips up her bag. She’s waiting by the door, arms crossed, back resting against the frame.

“I’ll walk you,” she says simply.

Y/N hesitates. “Oh… Wonyoung already left?”

Daah nods. “Someone called her. She said she’d see you later.”

“Ah.” She slings her bag over her shoulder. “Okay.”

They walk side by side down the quiet corridor. It’s already dark outside, the soft glow of lampposts casting long shadows on the pavement.

For a while, neither of them speak.

Then—

“You’re close with her,” Daah says, not looking at Y/N.

She blinks. “With Wonyoung?”

A small nod.

“I guess so?” She replies, trying not to sound defensive. “She’s easy to talk to.”

Daah hums. It’s noncommittal. She kicks a small pebble down the sidewalk.

“She likes you.”

The air changes.

Y/N turns her head slowly, heart thudding. “What?”

“She does,” Daah says plainly. “I can tell.”

Y/N swallows. “Is… is that a problem?”

When Daah stopped walking, Y/N did too, one step behind.

The older Jang looks at her — really looks at her. Daah’s face is unreadable. Her voice softer this time. “Not if you like her back.”

Y/N wants to answer. But the words don’t come easily.

Because she doesn’t know. Because Wonyoung makes her laugh, makes her feel seen. But Daah makes her feel... steady. Held. Understood without trying.

“I don’t know,” She admits, almost whispering.

Daah exhales, slow. She nods. “Okay.”

And just like that, she starts walking again.

No pressure. No persuasion.

Just Daah, offering space.

But Y/N catches the way her hands curl slightly at her sides — like she’s holding something back.

The next morning, the group chat is buzzing with leftover chatter from the meeting, and Y/N’s nursing a half-full iced coffee on campus when Wonyoung slides into the bench beside her. She’s unusually quiet.

“Hey,” she says, lips tugging into a soft smile. “You walked home okay?”

Y/N nods. “Yeah. Your sister walked with me.”

Something flickers in her expression — a tiny twitch of the mouth, the briefest pause in her fingers twirling her straw. But Wonyoung recovers fast. She always does.

“Right,” she says, casually. “She mentioned it.”

She doesn’t ask what the two talked about. Doesn’t ask how it felt. But she leans just a little closer to Y/N now — elbow brushing hers, voice a little lower when she says, “You know you could’ve texted me too. I would’ve gone back.”

Y/N offers her a small smile. “I know.”

She doesn’t push. But her eyes linger.

And across the courtyard, Daah walks by — no words, just a nod in Y/N’s direction. A knowing look. And that’s all it takes for Wonyoung to straighten her posture slightly.

That afternoon, at the org’s informal prep meeting in the library, Daah takes the seat beside Y/N first. No one makes a big deal of it. It’s always been that way.

Well, except for Wonyoung, who comes in late and stops for just a second when she sees the two of them bent over the same printout, Daah’s signature pen in Y/N’s hand because she said “Here, I want you to highlight this part.”

Wonyoung sits on the other side this time.

It’s subtle. But Y/N feels it — a tension stretched so thin it’s almost invisible, until one breathes too hard and it snaps.

It’s after the meeting that Daah walks with Y/N again. This time to the cafeteria, both of them craving fries.

“I like how you think,” she says dryly, ordering the largest size on the menu without hesitation.

As Y/N sits across from her, dipping fries into shared ketchup, she says, “You looked tired today.”

Y/N shrugs. “Just overwhelmed. So many deadlines.”

The older Jang nods. Then, slowly, she slides her tumbler across the table. “It’s just water,” she says, “but you forget to hydrate when you’re stressed.”

Y/N blinks at her.

It’s nothing.

It’s everything.

And when Daah walks her back to her dorm entrance, she doesn’t say anything more than, “Get some rest, Y/N.”

But Y/N catches her glancing back once before turning the corner.

Wonyoung has been quiet the entire day, so a text message at 8:34 PM wasn’t expected.

Wonyoung: you busy tonight? thought we could do a night drive. just us, like before

Y/N hesitates.

Y/N: where to? Wonyoung: doesn’t matter. just need fresh air. and you.

Y/N meets her by the south gate after 9PM. She’s leaning against her cousin’s borrowed car, oversized hoodie, long hair braided loosely down her back. The streetlight hits her just right — like it always does.

“I missed you,” she says, tugging Y/N into the passenger seat.

The drive is quiet. They both hum along to the playlist Wonyoung always uses for late-night escapes. She talks about random things — how her professor keeps forgetting her name (a lie), how the milk tea shop near her dorm has new flavors (true), how she feels like everyone’s been “acting weird lately.”

Y/N glances at her. “Weird how?”

“I don’t know.” Wonyoung shrugs. “Just vibes.”

But then she glances at Y/N quickly, just once, before adding:

“You still tell me everything, right?”

Y/N breath catches.

Wonyoung doesn’t press further. Just reaches over to squeeze Y/N’s hand lightly, then lets go before the light turns green again.

They end the night at a quiet overlook, sharing fries and not saying the thing sitting between them. At least, not yet.

Three days later, Daah invites Y/N to study with her.

Her dorm is quiet — books stacked neatly, scented candle lit by the desk, an extra hoodie waiting for Y/N on the back of her chair.

“You always get cold,” Daah says when she puts it on.

The older Jang works with that sharp, focused energy Y/N’s always admired. No distractions, no fluff. But every once in a while, she leans over to explain a tricky concept, her voice low and steady, her hand brushing Y/N’s as she points something out.

When she notices the younger girl rubbing her temples, she silently slides a chocolate bar across the desk. Y/N glances at her.

She just says, “Sugar helps.”

Later, when the power flickers — a storm rolling in — the lights go out briefly. Y/N’s laptop screen glows faintly.

Without a word, Daah lights another candle. The soft amber glow casts warm shadows on her face.

“You okay?” she asks.

Y/N nods. “Yeah. Just… this week’s been a lot.”

She closes her notebook. “Want to talk about it?”

And Y/N does. About stress, org deadlines, everything and nothing — Daah’s quiet presence making it so easy to say things she didn’t know she needed to.

When it’s time to leave, the older Jang insists to walk her home.

“I just want to make sure you’re safe, Y/N.”

“It’s just a 15-minute walk. I also want you to be safe,” Y/N mutters.

To compromise, Daah walks her to the gate with an umbrella. Before she turns, the older Jang tucks Y/N’s hair behind her ear gently and says,

“Text me when you’re inside. Please.”

Now, Y/N can’t sleep. Not because of the readings. Not even because of her backlogged project.

It’s the hoodie still hanging on her chair — Daah’s. And the playlist Wonyoung made that won’t stop looping in her head.

She’s not blind. She’s noticed how they’ve been around more lately. How Daah waits for her reactions without asking for them. How Wonyoung suddenly leaves room beside her in every group photo, without saying a word, like that space is always meant for her.

And the worst part? Y/N doesn’t hate it.

She’s the one checking if Wonyoung’s online late at night. She’s the one holding on to the chocolate wrapper Daah gave her, telling herself it’s for a junk journal.

No, she’s not unaffected. She’s just scared of what it means — that choosing one might mean losing both.

The group’s planning the new upcoming university fair. Y/N was seated in the middle of the table. Wonyoung on her left, Daah on her right.

She doesn’t think it’s planned again — but it feels intentional.

There’s a point when everyone’s discussing logistics, and Y/N offers to handle the booth design.

Daah leans in first, voice low. “That’s a lot on your plate. Let me co-lead with you.”

Before Y/N can respond, Wonyoung cuts in, not unkind, but clear. “I can help too. I’ve seen Y/N’s drafts before.”

It’s not hostile. But the shift in tone doesn’t go unnoticed.

People glance. Someone raises a brow. Y/N laughs it off, saying, “Two’s enough. Wony, maybe you can handle printing?”

She nods. Says, “Sure,” but her eyes flick briefly to Daah.

Later, during a snack break, the three of them end up near the same corner table, the others still busy on the floor.

Wonyoung offers her drink first — Y/N’s usual, bought without asking.

Daah sets a pack of Y/N’s favorite biscuits in front of her — again, without needing to ask.

Y/N looks at both. Then down at the table.

“I feel like I’m in a very quiet war,” she murmurs, mostly to herself.

Neither of them responds.

But Daah smirks. And Wonyoung’s lips press into a soft line — not angry, just... calculating.

Because they both heard her. Because no one’s denying it anymore.

It’s another late afternoon meeting for the university fair team. Y/N is curled on the grass with her laptop open, a group of snacks between her, Chaeyeon and Yuri.

Everyone’s half-working, half-vibing. Wonyoung’s on the other side of the field, helping someone lift tarps. Daah is by the booth setup, deep in conversation with two logistics leads. Y/N has been pretending not to track either of them with her eyes.

Yuri, who’s been watching her for the past minute with that sly smile she saves for exactly this kind of thing, finally breaks the silence.

“So, Y/N,” she starts, plucking a chip from the bag, “how’s it feel to be the main character in a drama where the love interests are literal sisters?”

Y/N chokes on her iced tea.

Chaeyeon snorts. “Oh my god, Yuri—”

“I’m just saying!” Yuri raises her hands. “It’s giving Silent Rivalry: Blood Runs Thicker Than Crushed Ice.”

Chaeyeon giggles. “Honestly? She's not wrong.”

Y/N groans, covering her face. “You’re both delusional.”

But she’s smiling. Just a little.

Chaeyeon leans in. “Wonyoung walked you to your dorm twice this week. And Daah lent you her hoodie. And you wore it.”

“She gave me chocolate, too,” she mumbles, then instantly regrets it.

Yuri gasps. “See?”

“Guys—”

“We’re not judging,” Yuri says, voice lowering. “We’re just… worried.”

Y/N blinks. “Worried?”

“Yeah,” Chaeyeon says, her tone softening. “They’re really close. If this goes sideways… it won’t just be your heart on the line.”

That lands heavier than she expects. Y/N looks down at her screen, the cursor blinking like it's waiting for her to decide something.

Before she can respond, a shadow falls over the group.

Wonyoung.

“Hey, you okay?” she asks, offering you a cold drink. Her gaze briefly flickers to Chaeyeon and Yuri.

Y/N smiles weakly. “Yeah. Just talking.”

Wonyoung looks like she wants to ask more, but doesn’t. Instead, she sits beside Y/N — close enough that their arms brush each other’s .

Across the field, Daah looks over at that exact moment.

And their friends exchange a look that says oh no, it’s already too late.

After an hour, everyone’s packing up. Chaeyeon’s gone to grab food with some of the logistics team. Wonyoung offered to walk Y/N home again, but she gently said she’d stay behind to help Yuri gather the signages.

She’s not sure if it was an excuse or if she needed this quiet space with someone who’s been watching her without asking anything from her.

Yuri ties the last of the twine around a rolled-up banner. Then she turns to her best friend.

“Y/N,” Yuri says, not quite looking at her. “Can I ask something? No jokes this time.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you even know what you want?”

Y/N blinks. “That’s vague.”

“Is it?” She meets her eyes now. “Because I think you’re in the middle of something that doesn’t feel like a love triangle from the outside anymore. It’s real. And both of them — Wonyoung and Daah  — they’re not playing games.”

Y/N looks away, swallowing hard.

Yuri continues, gently, “I’m not telling you to choose right now. But you can’t keep playing neutral forever either. Not without hurting someone.”

“I know,” the younger whispers. “I just… don’t want to ruin anything. They’re sisters. And they’re so close. What if it all falls apart and I’m the reason?”

Yuri shifts beside her, resting her hand lightly on Y/N’s. “If it does fall apart, that’s not on you. You’re not a prize. You’re a person. You have the right to feel things, to figure it out. But promise me something?”

Y/N glances up.

“Promise me you’ll be honest with yourself first. Not just with them.”

She nods slowly and for the first time all day, the weight in her chest lightens a little.

At their shared apartment, Daah’s seated on the living room couch, reviewing a script. Wonyoung steps in with two glasses of water and sets one down on the table beside her older sister.

She sits on the other end of the couch. For a while, the only sound is the flipping of pages.

Then Wonyoung speaks, soft but clear. “You walked her home.”

Daah doesn’t flinch. “It was late.”

“You never walk people home.”

“I’ve walked you home.”

Wonyoung sighs. “That’s different, unnie.”

Daah sets the script down and finally meets her eyes. “Is it really?”

Wonyoung’s jaw tightens, but she’s calm. “She’s not just anyone.”

“I know.”

They hold each other’s gaze.

Then Daah says, “I didn’t plan this.”

“I know.”

Silence.

Wonyoung leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “I just need to understand something.”

“What?”

“Why her?”

Daah breathes in through her nose. “Because she looks at people like they matter. Even when she’s tired. Even when she’s not sure of herself. I saw that in her before I knew I’d… feel anything.”

Wonyoung blinks, eyes briefly wet, but she smiles.

“That’s exactly why I like her too.”

There’s no anger. Just a long, slow exhale from both of them.

Daah finally asks, voice low, “So what do we do?”

And Wonyoung replies, “We wait. For her. Not against each other.”

A beat. Then Daah nods.

And maybe, just maybe, the respect between them will survive whatever comes next.

The story branches into two possible endings: One where Y/N chooses Wonyoung, and one where she chooses Daah. There's no “right” choice — only the one that speaks to you most. Enjoy :>

Flowers and Firsts | Rain and Realizations

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

debater!wonyoung headcanons

debater!wonyoung series: Part 1 | Part 2 | spinoff

A/N: js a few more hcs for debater!wonyoung that I can't write into a story anymore bec I am still obsessed with her

the transition from rivals to teammates to friends to lovers was def weird for them

a lot of tension, uncertainty and vulnerability

absolutely awkward post-confession phase like

wonyoung still flirts but it wasn’t just a game anymore

y/n is still as shy, but when she fights back, wonyoung’s heart does cartwheels or whatever

they now sit closer during meetings, knees touching more often

they also text more at night, topics not limited to debate strategies anymore

they typically end with “good night” which is cute

wony texts: “should I call you something? like babe? baby? too soon?”

y/n replies, “too soon”

but 2 mins later, she says “maybe”

she was screaming into her pillow but wonyoung doesn’t have to know that

so they're both smart. they're both used to speaking eloquently

but romantic vulnerability is a totally different language

wonyoung sometimes overthinks her phrasing

is she sounding too clingy? too casual?

she’ll literally type out three different versions of “I miss you” before deleting all of them and sending: “how’s dinner?”

y/n sometimes retreats when she’s overwhelmed by the shift in their relationship

I mean, she doesn’t mean to — it’s just hard figuring out what’s allowed now

like can she text wonyoung after a long day just to hear her voice??? or is that too much?

“I don’t really know how to… be someone’s girlfriend”

wonyoung just smiles gently and laces their fingers together

“Good thing I don’t mind learning with you”

as for the nickname crisis…

y/n settles on “Won” — just one syllable, simple, soft, still intimate

and wonyoung melts every time she hears it

wonyoung tries a lot of nicknames for y/n, trying to see which one she likes best

wonyoung bases off of y/n’s reaction. she doesn’t say anything, but her face actually says a lot

eventually, she sticks with “lover”

very elegant, romantic, and a little old-fashioned (which y/n thinks is very wonyoung-coded)

but it literally makes y/n combust like

"There you are, lover" or "You did well, lover" or "I'll see you tomorrow, lover"

ISN'T IT JUST SO CUTE

touch is totally unfamiliar, but still deeply craved

they’re still learning what’s okay, when it’s okay

but wonyoung starts casually resting her hand on y/n’s thigh during meetings

y/n always hesitates before kissing wony just bec she still can’t believe she can

wonyoung notices and kisses her first before saying:

“You don’t have to ask, yknow? Just take what’s yours”

their arguments end in forehead pokes now, not cold shoulders like before

they always study together in silence with some sort of physical contact here and there

sometimes, wonyoung stares and gently grabs y/n’s chin for a kiss on the lips

“I just needed some energy”

cue a very flustered y/n

whenever wonyoung falls asleep while studying, y/n drapes her blazer over her

and stares like a lovesick puppy then acts as if nothing happened when wony wakes up

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

falling for you (literally)

summary ningning wipes out trying to impress y/n, but instead of dying from embarrassment, she gets kissed.

genre fluff / mutual pining

pairing skater!ning yizhou x fem!reader

masterlist.

ningning’s been acting weird lately.

not in a bad way. more like… in a she’s-trying-to-seduce-you-with-swag-and-failing-horrifically kinda way. and it’s killing you. slowly. because you actually like her, and her being a dumbass around you is making it ten times worse.

today, she’s decided to impress you with her "new skateboard tricks" which—let’s be real—you didn’t even ask for. at all. you were just chilling on the curb with an iced drink and a good mood when she rolled up in her neon green hoodie and said:

“watch this.”

you blinked. “watch what?”

she smirked. “me.”

bad idea.

she kicks off dramatically. it’s all fine for like 2 seconds—her hair’s flowing, her knees are bent, she looks kinda cool, not gonna lie—until she tries to do a trick. which is basically a sad little hop, followed by a half spin—

—and then complete death.

girl yeets herself off the board, does a full-body skid across the pavement, and lands flat on her stomach like a cartoon character that just slipped on a banana peel.

you freeze. so does time. a single seagull squawks in the distance.

“don’t—” she groans from the ground, muffled into the concrete. “don’t laugh.”

you are already wheezing. “i wasn’t gonna laugh—i was gonna call an ambulance.”

she flops over with all the drama of a medieval soldier dying in battle. “please tell my cat i love her.”

“shut up,” you laugh, setting your drink down and walking over. “are you dying?”

“only emotionally.”

she looks up at you from the ground, her cheeks flushed pink, her elbow scraped a little, her pride absolutely demolished. and she still has the audacity to look cute.

and that’s when it hits you. like a brick to the head.

holy shit.

you really like her.

like… not just think-she’s-hot-like. not just best-friend-like. not even the haha-silly-crush kinda like.

you really like her.

like, you want to kiss her stupid face and laugh with her and hold her hand on purpose in front of people.

fuck.

you offer her your hand, trying to play it cool even though your brain is SCREAMING internally.

“come on, skater girl.”

she grabs it and lets you pull her up—and just before she can dust herself off, you tug her back in, eyes locked on hers.

“y/n?” she blinks.

“yeah?”

“…do i have a rock on my face or something?”

you roll your eyes, grip her hoodie, and pull her into a kiss before she can say anything else.

she goes completely still. lips warm. hands frozen at her sides. like her soul left her body and ascended mid-smooch.

when you pull away, her eyes are huge. her jaw drops a little.

you grin. “no rock. just me.”

ningning: buffering...

“did—did you just kiss me because i almost died?”

“no,” you say, brushing dust off her sleeve. “i kissed you because i’m tired of watching you try to impress me like an idiot when you already had me a long time ago.”

“…oh.”

then she blinks again. and grabs your hand. and suddenly she’s the one grinning now.

“so if i do another trick right now, will you kiss me again?”

you smirk. “depends. are you planning to die again?”

“probably.”

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ BABY, PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME

♯┆after you give ning the silent treatment she tries everything to get your attention.

pairing. ningning x gn!reader genre. fluff warning(s). ningning one chance, clingy ning

word count: 1.1k

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ katty ᥫ᭡: hey yall…

masterlist.

you rummaged through the fridge, grumbling under your breath as you shoved the milk back onto the shelf with more force than necessary.

“what’re you looking for?” your girlfriend appeared in the doorway of the workroom, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

you crossed your arms, leaning against the kitchen counter, frown deepening as you met her eyes. “do you know what happened to the last slice of strawberry cheesecake?”

her body immediately tenses and she pushed her glasses up, eyes darting to the side.

“no.”

you rolled your eyes. “did it grow legs and walk away?”

ning’s shoulders lifted then dropped in exaggerated surprise. “maybe it did! i don’t know...” she answered, voice too quick and too high pitched.

“liar! you ate it!” you shot back, daring her to deny the accusation. “nuh-uh.”

you brushed past her and stumbled into the workroom. she followed with hurried footsteps. “please, baby, wait.” she pleaded, voice laced with a hint of panic. “i didn’t mean to! i didn’t know you wanted it —“

you saw her university laptop flipped open on the desk, coffee and an empty plate neighboring it.

it could’ve been just another normal day, but something wasn’t right. and it didn’t take long for your eyes to realize the details on the plate.

leftover crumbs and smudges of strawberry syrup.

at first you just stood there, air thick with silence. then you finally turned to her, face a mix of disbelief and irritation.“i apologize! i had no idea you wanted it!” she blurted with a soft voice. it was almost pleading, guilt clear in her eyes.

“you knew i was saving it though.” you couldn’t hide the exasperation in your tone,

“yeah, but… i didn’t mean to. i didn’t plan to.” she stammered.

but you didn’t want to hear it. you didn’t care for excuses. so you turned on your heel, ready to retreat back into the comfort of your shared bed.

she followed quickly, this time managing to reach you before you could crawl back under the covers.

“i’m serious. believe me.” she pouted, arms wrapping around your middle to pull you as close as she could.

your heart fluttered at her touch but you refused to let it show, practically dragging her to the bed with you.

“y/nnnn~” she whined, pulling you back into her embrace. her arms wrapping around you tightly, body warm against yours.

you stayed silent, determined to ignore her.

“baby.” she whined with a desperate voice.

ning’s arms tightened around you. you could feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, and even though you were currently annoyed, you couldn't help but soften a little at how close you two were.

“i didn’t mean to eat it.” she murmured into your neck, breath fanning your skin. “i just… i wanted it too! and it was just sitting there —”

you let her words hang in the air, a faint sigh escaping your lips as you stared at the wall straight ahead.

she stayed quiet for a moment, refusing to pull away. you felt her breathing deepen as if she were trying to figure out which way to convince you next. then, without warning, she placed gentle pecks on the skin of your neck.

“stop.” you grumbled, voice lacking the force that you intended it to.

but she didn’t stop. she didn’t want to. instead, ning brought her hands from your waist to your back, touch gentle yet insistent. her lips lingered against your neck for a moment longer before she pulled back slightly, touch soft against your skin.

“please baby?” she whispered. “stop ignoring me.” you continued to stay silent, struggling between frustration and affection. you weren’t that upset about it anymore but you liked the attention from her.

she had been working on her final project for the past few days and with her being the overachiever that she is, it was difficult to get moments like this as of late.

her arms wrapped around you again, pulling you closer as if she were afraid you’d break away from her. her hands softly caressed your back while she pouted at it.

“i didn’t think you cared about the cheesecake that much.” she murmured.

you scoffed playfully. “you should’ve asked.” you said quietly, tone warmer than before. there was still a tiny hint of sadness in it, though.

“i know, baby. i should’ve.” she buried her face in your neck, lips brushing against your skin again. the kisses were soft and full of apologies, repeatedly pecking against your skin. you had given in already.

“i forgive you.” you said, your voice quieter now. “but i’m still mad at you.”

she whined and you immediately felt bad.

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding. i’m not mad anymore.” you let out a soft laugh, your hands moving to cup her face, and trace her cheek with your thumb. it was your turn to pull her in closer, kissing her forehead gently.

her face lit up instantly, the happiness in her eyes making her look like a child in a candy store. “good. i hate it when you’re mad at me.” she continued to pout.

“next time you better ask before you steal my cheesecake.” you teased her, pressing your lips to her forehead once again.

ning’s smile grew and she kissed your cheek in return, lips lingering there a little longer than expected. “i will! i swear.”she chirped.

“you better.” you mumbled as your hands brushed softly throughout her hair, finally pulling her into your embrace.

her lips brushed against yours gently to ask for permission. you closed the small gap between the two of you, meeting her lips with a gentle kiss. it was slow and sweet, making both of your hearts thump in your chests. you felt her smile against your lips and you couldn’t resist doing the same.

once you pulled back you rested your forehead against hers. she watsed no time kissing you again, a little deeper this time. her lips moved more confidently now that you weren’t upset with her anymore. you gave into the softness of the moment.

“you still owe me a cheesecake though.”you said playfully, pulling away just to speak. “i mean like damn, that was a big slice.”

she pouted again before her fingers settled in your hair as she kissed you again, this time with a little more insistence. “i’ll get you a whole box! i promise!” her smile returned.

you hummed in disbelief, rolling your eyes playfully.

“the whole cheesecake factory even.”

you looked at her with a face that basically said ‘mmcht.’

“waiters and chefs included.”

you couldn’t help but laugh then. “yeah, we’ll see.”

perm taglist — @saysirhc @prologue-ae

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

I know most female idols are straight but it's still a harsh reality check for sapphics (me) 💔

[baekyeon-group-psychward]

      ( ♡ ) SHE'S ALL THAT

° ˖ ➴ aespa & dating you as a bet

### . STARRING ⌢ OT4 ⋆ angst (rina, 3) fluff (winter, 2) crack (ningselle 2, 4) texts // unedited + swearing! ˖ ✧

🗨️ .. ⌞ XOXO ⌝ based off this hc <3 u don't have to read it to understand this but it'll provide context so! + [m.list]

౨ৎ ˖ ❪ YU JIMIN ❫  

౨ৎ ˖ ❪ UCHINAGA AERI ❫    

౨ৎ ˖ ❪ KIM MINJEONG ❫

౨ৎ ˖ ❪ NING YIZHUO ❫  

𐙚 . regulars : @brocoliisscared @chrrific ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25