#ikon angst

[soundsofcicadas]

Yours | Stalker Yunhyeong AU

Pairing: Yunhyeong x Reader

Genre: Stalker AU

Count: 1469

Warnings: 18+ (Mature Readers Only). This is a one-shot inspired by the TV series You and includes themes of stalking, manipulation, emotional and physical abuse, violence and implied smut.

Yunhyeong is your charming café owner. He's also a hopeless romantic—but there’s more to him than meets the eye.

Love.

What would life even mean without it? How would the world keep turning without love?

That’s exactly what Yunhyeong was thinking that morning as he stood behind the counter of his café, watching customers come and go. From the outside, you’d think he had it all together—a young, successful business owner running the only café in a small, quiet town. No competition. Steady income. He had his own car, a cozy apartment, and even if he didn’t finish college, he never saw it as a failure. His mother had taught him to cook and bake, and over time, he got really good at it. Everything he’d been through, everything he came from—it all led him here.

The place was called Smile Café—fitting, because that’s what people saw in him. A cheerful guy. Friendly. Kind. Polite to elders. The kind of guy you bring home to your parents. So it wasn’t surprising that he had plenty of admirers too.

But none of them were her.

None of them were you.

You were the last customer to walk in before he closed up for the night. And in his eyes, you were perfect. Despite looking like a total mess—mascara smudged, eyes puffy—you were still beautiful. Like something fragile and broken you’d want to keep safe in your hands.

You stepped up to the counter and cleared your throat. “Do you have any donuts left?”

Yunhyeong glanced at the nearly empty display. “Yeah. Last box, actually. Lucky.”

Your voice was faint. “I’ll take it.”

He packed the donuts carefully. You looked like you hadn’t eaten all day. He didn’t say anything, just made you a coffee and placed it beside the box.

You narrowed your eyes a little.  “I didn’t order this.”

“It’s on the house,” he said, offering a small smile. “You look like you need it.”

You didn’t smile back, but there was something in the way you looked at him—like no one had been kind to you in a while. 

“Thanks,” you muttered, clutching the box like it was the only thing holding you together.

That was it. That moment. That look. That voice.

At last, Yunhyeong found the love he’d been looking for—the missing piece in his life.

You started coming more often after that.

Always alone. Always near closing. Sometimes with messy hair, sometimes freshly showered. Always tired, always quiet. You never said much, but Yunhyeong didn’t need words. He learned to read you. A furrowed brow meant don’t ask questions. A hoodie pulled tight around your face meant rough night. A new bruise on your wrist—he noticed. You didn’t think anyone would.

But he saw everything.

And that’s when it started.

Following you after you left. Just to make sure you got home safe, he told himself. But he didn’t stop there.

He followed you to work—a dingy pub on the edge of town. You worked the counter, serving drinks and forcing a fake smile while drunk assholes flirted with you.

Until, he followed you home. You lived alone. The hallway was empty, dead quiet except for the buzz of the dim lights overhead. Yunhyeong pulled his cap lower, his hoodie casting a shadow over his face. No one would notice him.

He stopped at your apartment door. You were out—he had seen you leave an hour ago.

Without thinking twice, he leaned in close. His fingers worked the lock like it was second nature. A sharp, soft click, and the door gave way. He slipped inside, shutting it carefully behind him. 

Your apartment was small, tidy, smelled like laundry and cheap lavender candles. He walked through it like it was a museum—every book, every photo, every note on the fridge. Then he stepped into the bedroom.

That’s where he saw it—a polaroid taped to your mirror. You were with a guy, his hands around your waist, lips pressed to your cheek.

So you weren’t alone after all. 

Yunhyeong’s blood turned cold. But it was nothing compared to what he felt a week later. He was hiding across the street, watching the guy from the photo—your boyfriend—scream at you outside the pub.  He gripped your arm tight, shoving you afterward.

It didn’t take long for him to trail your boyfriend. He found him with another woman—laughing, hands all over each other as they disappeared into a cheap motel.

Yunhyeong clenched his jaw so hard he thought it might crack.

It was almost closing time when you stumbled into the café again.

Drunk.

Slurring. Makeup smeared. You leaned on the counter and gave him a playful smile. “You’re always here,” you said.

He caught you before you tripped.

“Let me take you home.”

He walked you to your apartment, helped you up the stairs, and found your keys in your bag. You leaned on him the whole way. Once inside, you sank into the couch, eyes half-closed.

“You’re… really sweet,” you mumbled. “You’re the only one who’s… not a fucking liar.”

You became friends after that. Texts. Inside jokes. Shared silences. But Yunhyeong wanted more.

He thought about telling you everything—about your boyfriend, about what he had seen. About how you deserved better.

That moment finally came. At night, he sat in his car across the street, watching your window, the words rehearsed in his head. He just had to find the right timing. Then the lights in your apartment went dark… and a dim glow flickered to life. Through the hidden audio feeds he had secretly planted, he heard it—the laughter, the moans, the sounds of you with him, echoing in his earphones. He didn’t have to see it. He already knew. Your shadows moved behind the curtain, a cruel silhouette he couldn’t look away from.

It gutted him.

He almost drove away for good.

But then came the screaming.

Another night. Same place. But this time, it was different. Your voice wasn’t just angry. It was scared. Panicked.

He didn’t think. He moved.

He undid the lock of your apartment door the same way he had the first time he broke in. He walked fast to the bedroom, where he found you—pinned beneath your boyfriend, his hands tight around your neck, his voice low and threatening. You were crying, telling him to stop.

Yunhyeong didn’t remember picking up the lamp. Just the weight of it. Just the sound it made when it hit your boyfriend’s skull.

Blood everywhere.

You screamed. Not at Yunhyeong. Just at the world, at your messed up life.

He dropped the lamp. Breathing hard. Heart racing.

And then… silence.

“How… how did you get in?” you asked, eyes wide. “How did you know I needed—”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

You both cleaned the scene together.

Bleach. Garbage bags. Gloves. Quiet coordination, like you’d done this before. Like instinct. You both dumped the body deep in the woods. Buried it. Never looked back.

The sun was almost up when you made your way back to your apartment with him. You didn’t want him to leave you alone, and he felt the same. Yunhyeong kissed you. It was sloppy at first, then it became desperate, hungry, years of loneliness crashing between you. Clothes hit the floor, forgotten. Hands roamed. Mouths collided. He had wanted you for so long it hurt—and now, you wanted him just as much.

Neither of you talked about your dead boyfriend after that.

Didn’t need to.

Months passed. You two were a couple now. Normal, even. Happy, in your own twisted way.

You left your job at the pub and helped him at his café. Your dead boyfriend was declared missing. The theory was that he escaped, possibly even changed his identity to hide from some shady people he might have had bad dealings with, given his reputation in your town. Or so they thought. The police never became suspicious of you, and without any more leads, it was turning into a cold case.

As for Yunhyeong, old habits die hard. He couldn’t help but still snoop on you.

One night, while you were asleep, he opened your laptop. Just curiosity. Nothing more.

But he had no way of preparing himself for everything he found.

His name.

His socials.

You even found his address.

Photos of him, dozens of them—walking, laughing, working. Helping strangers. His weekend jogs, grocery shopping. Hidden in a folder. Dated before that first night you came into the café.

And there, on an app: real-time cam footage. Videos from inside his apartment.

You had been watching him.

Long before he ever knew you.

He turned to you in the bed, his mouth slightly ajar. You were awake, watching him, amused.

“You didn’t really think you were the only one, did you?”

You moved closer to him, your lips brushing his ear before whispering,

“I’m yours, Yunhyeong. We’re meant for each other.”

[spacequokka]

Misc Idols Masterlist

Updated: 7.17.25

Page 53 [A]

Dance with the Devil [H/T] - 1.3k - “You can be my entertainment, or you can be my food,” the vampire told her. “The choice is entirely yours.”

Living with Vamp!Heechul [H/P] - One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten

Coffee Mates [F] - 2.2k - A regular customer catches your eye, leading you to buy a SeoulMate device to see if he’s the one. 🧭

Page 99 [T]

Homecoming [S/A/F] - 6.0k - “You look like you’re having a great time, kitten.” Jiyong leaned in, resting a hand on your thigh. “Won’t you come sit with daddy?”

Who You? [A] - 0.8k - You share a ferris wheel ride with your ex-boyfriend.

Page 167 [A]

Plane Pals [F/P] - 3.1k - Bumping into your celeb crush at the airport and sitting together on the plane.

Page 101 [P]

Zodiac Bias: Virgo [A/F] - 1.3k - He gets the courage to ask you something that’s been bugging him. ♍

Page 55 [F]

[yumiyue07]

Say It’s Only Me

ʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞ

Pairing: H/N × Reader (male idol!H/N x fem photographer!Y/N) Word count: ~4k Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, mild smut? (can't believe I wrote this >///<), established relationship, jealousy, reconciliation Warnings: Language, implied intimacy, emotional hurt/comfort, misunderstanding, possessiveness, soft dominance, one bed trope vibes Summary: A simple event shoot turns into a nightmare when Y/N sees her boyfriend looking all too cozy with another woman on the red carpet. The pictures say it all, or so she thinks...

H/N = His name Y/N = Your name M/N = Group member's name

ʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞ

The weight of your camera bag pressed against your side as you walked, each step toward the venue making your pulse thrum louder in your ears. H/N would be there tonight. Of course, he would. Center stage, bathed in adoration, the kind of person who belonged under the spotlight.

You weren’t even supposed to be here.

Your boss had shoved the assignment into your hands at the last minute, and you’d nearly refused. Nearly. But then there was H/N’s voice in your head, smooth and teasing: “Don’t stress about coming, jagiya. I’ll see you later.” Sweet. Casual.

The thought sent a thrill through you, lips curling as you imagined his reaction, the way his eyes would widen, that sharp intake of breath when he realized you were there, watching him from behind the lens, invisible in the sea of photographers.

Your mind wandered to that photo.

A mirror selfie of his outfit for the night, sent hours ago, the kind that made your fingers tighten around your phone. He looked ruinous, ivory tailored blazer hugging his frame, silver rings glinting against his fingers, that smirk he only ever wore for you. The kind of smirk that said I know what this does to you. You’d stared too long, breath caught somewhere between your ribs, forgetting to reply. Let him wonder. ~~~ H/N: Don’t tell me you’re speechless now? (Sent 4:04 PM) (Read 4:42 PM)

You: Yes 😳 I still can’t believe I get to call a man that fine my boyfriend. (Sent 4:43 PM) (Read 4:44 PM)

H/N: My favorite person is full of compliments today… (Or are you just trying to distract me from the fact you never texted back?) 😏 (Read 4:45 PM)

You: Maybe. Or maybe I’m just imagining how easy it’d be to slide that blazer off your shoulders. ❤️‍🔥(Sent 4:46 PM) You:…And I definitely can’t believe I have to wait until after the event to do so. 🔥

(Read 4:46 PM) *(…H/N is typing for 11 seconds, then stops.)*

H/N: Careful. Keep talking like that, and I’ll skip the event entirely. (Read 4:48 PM) *(Attached: A mirror pic. His fingers undo the top buttons of his shirt, gaze heavy-lidded. Caption: “Still speechless?”)

You: …Yes. (Sent 4:54 PM) (Typing…) Now I’m rethinking my life choices. 😫

H/N: Good. Suffer a little. (Read 4:55 PM) (Typing…)H/N: I’ll make it worth the wait. 😘 (Read 4:56 PM) ~~~ You arrived too early and yet not early enough.

The prime spots along the red carpet were already claimed by photographers with bulkier gear and press badges from outlets everyone recognized. You ended up wedged between a jostling freelancer livestreaming his commentary (“Y’all see this lighting? Criminal.”) and a veteran from The Period who smelled like coffee and disdain. Not ideal, but you could make it work.

The summer air clung, thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the tang of metal from the barricades. Golden hour bled into twilight, painting the carpet in molten light. Perfect conditions. You adjusted your lens, the click-whirr of test shots a quiet rhythm under the rising murmur of the crowd.

Wait. Aim. Shoot.

The usual dance. You caught the glint of sequins, the practiced tilt of a star’s chin, the way their laughter never quite reached their eyes. None of them mattered.

H/N would arrive last. Main attractions always did.

Minutes passed, feeling like hours. Then suddenly chaos.

A scream ripped through the crowd, sharp, ecstatic, the kind of sound that only ever meant one thing.

Him.

Cameras swiveled as one, flashes exploding like fireworks. You didn’t need to look. You’d know the shift in the air anywhere, the way the crowd’s energy spiked like a live wire. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, pulse stuttering, hands tightening around your camera.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for her.

There he was. Your H/N, bathed in the glow of a hundred flashes, his effortless magnetism pulling every eye toward him. And there she was, her fingers curled possessively around his bicep, her laugh ringing bright and clear as he leaned down to murmur something in her ear.

She fit…like she belonged there. Elegant. Confident.

That was the worst part. The way her midnight gown draped against his ivory fit, the way they moved in sync, two halves of a perfect whole. The press went wild, shouting their names, begging for a pose.

And he gave it to them.

You froze.

Your camera almost slipped from your fingers, and for a second, you forgot to breathe, let alone shoot. You blinked hard, shook it off, and forced yourself to lift the lens again. This wasn’t personal. You were here for work. Focus.

But your chest ached. Your heartbeat thudded in your ears.

He looked even better in person than in that photo. Like a modern prince carved out of moonlight and fire. And she... she was a match made in heaven. Regal. Radiant. She held onto him like she knew him. Smiled at him like she had him.

H/N turned toward her, his hand sliding to the small of her back, that touch, the one you knew so well, and smiled. Not the smirk he reserved for you. No, this was softer. Warmer. Uncomplicated.

A flash went off in your face. You hadn’t even realized you’d raised your camera.

Click.

The image burned into your retinas: his fingers splayed against her spine, her lips parted in delight.

Your throat tightened.

Is this why he told you not to come?

You forced another shot. Click. Then another. Click. Each one a knife twist.

A voice beside you snorted. “Damn, they’re obvious, huh? Rumor is they’ve been sneaking around for months.”

The world tilted.

Months?

Your camera suddenly felt too heavy in your hands, the weight of it dragging at your wrists like an anchor. You swallowed hard, forcing your fingers to steady, professional, always professional, but then…

It got worse.

H/N’s hand slid around the woman’s waist, pulling her flush against his side like she belonged there. Like he’d done it a thousand times before. Then he dipped his head, lips grazing the curve of her ear, whispering words you couldn’t hear, words that made her tilt her head back with a laugh, bright and knowing.

The crowd erupted. Shutters exploded like gunfire. Someone nearby cooed, “Oh my god, are they finally confirming?”

Your next breath shuddered in your chest, raw and jagged. But your finger kept pressing the shutter. Click. Click. Click. Each frame a perfect, gutting snapshot: his thumb stroking her hip, the way her fingers curled into his sleeve, the ease of it all.

You didn’t realize you’d stopped breathing until your vision blurred.

The scene began to shift. There was movement.

The rest of H/N’s group stepped forward for photos, their laughter grating against your ribs. You mechanically adjusted your lens, your body moving on autopilot while your mind screamed.

Until M/N froze mid-pose.

His gaze locked onto yours through the viewfinder, sharp and assessing. A beat passed, then his brows furrowed slightly, lips parting in recognition.

Oh god.

You jerked back, ducking behind the nearest photographer, your pulse roaring in your ears. You couldn’t let him see you. Couldn’t let anyone see the cracks splintering through you.

But it was too late.

M/N knew. And if he knew… How long until H/N did too?

You were out of the crowd before the final applause faded.

The office was empty when you arrived, just the hum of idle computers and the glow of forgotten coffee cups. Perfect. No witnesses for the way your hands shook as you uploaded the photos, each click of the mouse like a hammer to your ribs.

Then you saw it.

Your colleague’s laptop sat open, a gossip site splashed across the screen:

"A NEW POWER COUPLE IS BORN?"

Beneath the headline, your own photo stared back at you. H/N’s arm slung around her waist, his smile soft in a way you’d never seen directed at anyone else. The caption read: "Insiders say they’ve been inseparable for months."

Months.

The word lodged in your throat like glass. You’d seen them together for five minutes and felt your bones dissolve. How the hell had he hidden months?

A laugh bubbled up, sharp and humorless. You tipped your head back, willing the ceiling tiles to swallow the heat prickling behind your eyes.

“Good work, Y/N.”

You startled. Your colleague didn’t look up from their monitor. “What’s up there?”

“Nothing,” you lied, voice sandpaper-rough. “Just… yeah. Good work.”

They shrugged. “If you’re done, you’re free to go. Have a good weekend.”

You grabbed your bag, the strap biting into your shoulder like a punishment.

A good weekend.

As if you wouldn’t spend it dissecting every lie, every touch, every time he’d kissed you with those same lips and whispered…“You’re the only one who really sees me.”

The journey home stretched into a cruel limbo.

Every red light taunted you. Every pedestrian crossing felt like a personal affront. By the time your apartment building loomed into view, your knuckles were white on the strap, your breath coming in shallow bursts as if you’d been running for miles instead of sitting in suffocating silence.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, the dam broke.

Your bag hit the floor with a thud. Shoes kicked off haphazardly. You sank into the couch like a marionette with cut strings, the weight of the night pressing down until you swore you could feel the cracks forming in your ribs.

What the hell had just happened?

Was she his girlfriend? His lover? Had every tender moment between you been a lie, every whispered “You’re mine” just another performance?

Your mind raced, clawing through memories for clues. The way he’d been distant lately, his texts shorter, his kisses quicker. “Work’s crazy,” he’d said. “Just need some space.” You’d believed him. Of course, you had.

Your gaze landed on the framed photo on the shelf. The one he had insisted on gifting you. There you were, tangled together in a mess of limbs and laughter, his lips pressed to your temple like a promise.

A shaky finger traced the outline of his smile.

“H/N…” Your voice cracked, barely audible. “You wouldn’t do this to me. Right?”

The glass fogged under your breath. A tear fell against it, distorting his face into a blur. You scrubbed at your cheeks angrily, but the next one fell anyway.

“Get a grip, Y/N,” you hissed. “There’s an explanation.”

But the silence of the apartment screamed back at you. You grabbed your phone, still nothing. No missed calls. No frantic texts. Just the glaring, empty screen, mocking you.

Of course. He was probably wrapped up in her right now, her perfume staining his clothes, her nails leaving crescent moons on his skin.

Your stomach lurched.

Tossing the phone aside, you flopped onto your back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Your heart hammered against your sternum, each beat a frantic no, no, no.

The thought of losing him was a physical pain, a knife twisting deeper with every ragged breath. But as your fingers clutched at your shirt, nails biting into fabric and flesh alike, the truth settled over you like a shroud: It already felt like he was gone.

Time had turned syrupy, seconds stretching into hours, or maybe it was the other way around. You only registered the buzzing of your phone when it vibrated against your thigh, startling you from the numb haze.

A message.

Not from him.

M/N: “Hey Y/N, I saw you at the event. We’re back now. Can I come over or call you? You looked… hurt.”

The words blurred. M/N had always been too perceptive, too kind, of course, he’d noticed. Your thumbs hovered over the screen before typing:

You: “Hey, everything’s fine. Just tired. Going to sleep. Goodnight.”

A lie so brittle you could taste it.

You couldn’t handle pity right now. Not when your ribs felt like they were caving in, not when every breath came with the phantom scent of her perfume clinging to H/N’s collar.

Sleep was a futile hope.

You curled tighter around the pillow, its seams digging into your arms as if it could stitch you back together. But the images kept playing behind your eyelids. His smile, her laugh, the way his fingers had flexed against her waist like he was memorizing the shape of her.

Why hasn’t he called? Is he still with her? Was anything between us ever real?

Your phone screen remained dark. A traitorous part of you kept imagining it lighting up with his name, his voice, any explanation…

Suddenly, a knock echoed through your apartment.

You stiffened.

It came again, sharper this time. Insistent.

Logic said it was M/N, ignoring your brush-off out of concern. But your stupid, shattered heart whispered:

…What if it’s him?

You painted on a smile, thin, cracked at the edges, knowing it wouldn’t fool anyone. Least of all him.

The door creaked open.

H/N.

Even before you looked up, you felt him. The way the air thickened, charged with the weight of his presence. The faint scent of his cologne, something expensive and woodsy, now tainted with the memory of her perfume clinging to his jacket.

When you finally met his eyes, your breath stuttered.

Those eyes. Those eyes you loved so much. The ones that had crinkled at the corners when he’d whispered “I love you” against your skin. The ones that had stared at her tonight with the same devastating intensity.

He flinched at your sight, just a flicker, but enough. The guilt there was unmistakable.

“Y/N...” His voice was rough, cautious, like he was stepping onto thin ice. “Can we please talk?”

Your fingers dug into the doorframe. “I don’t feel like talking…not now.” A lie. You ached to scream, to demand answers, but you refused to break in front of him. Not like this.

You started to shut the door.

His palm slammed against it, stopping you mid-motion. The tremor in his grip betrayed him. “It has to be now,” he insisted, voice dropping lower. “Especially when you’ve been crying.”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing you, for seeing through you even now.

Your resolve wavered. Your body moved before your mind could protest, stepping back in silent surrender. He followed, his footsteps unnervingly quiet. The door clicked shut behind him, a sound too final, too heavy.

Like the last page of a story you weren’t ready to end.

You braced yourself against the dining table, arms locked across your chest like armor. The distance between you felt like the only safe thing left, too much space for him to cross, too little for your heart to handle.

He didn’t move. Good. You weren’t sure what you’d do if he tried to touch you, shatter or combust.

“What are you doing here?” The words spilled out, sharp with venom. “I was expecting M/N. At least he bothered to check on me.” A bitter laugh. “But my…” Your voice cracked. “…boyfriend was too busy, wasn’t he?”

H/N flinched like you’d struck him. His jaw clenched, throat working as he swallowed hard. “Y/N, please. Just let me explain.”

“Explain what?” You forced another laugh, brittle as glass. “How you’ve been sneaking around with her for months? Or how you thought I’d never find out?”

Regret instantly flooded you. You didn’t want to be this person, spitting accusations, voice trembling with rage. But the image of his hands on her waist, his lips at her ear, burned behind your eyelids.

H/N took a step forward. You stiffened, gaze dropping to the floor, fingers twisting into your cardigan until the fabric threatened to tear.

Silence stretched between you, suffocating.

He halted just out of reach, fists trembling at his sides. The air between you crackled with unsaid words, but when he spoke, his voice was devastatingly calm.

“She’s not my girlfriend. There’s nothing between us. It was just a commercial shoot.”

A hollow laugh escaped you. “Just a commercial?” Your fingers dug into your palms. “Then why did you touch her like that? Whisper to her like…” Your voice broke. “Like you do with me?”

H/N’s expression twisted. “I know how it looked. But it was all staged. The director wanted ‘chemistry’, wanted the press to talk. That’s why I didn’t want you there.” He stepped closer, pleading. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you seeing that.”

“And yet here we are.” You swiped at your phone with shaking hands, thrusting the screen toward him, that photo, the one seared into your mind. “Explain this.”

His breath hitched. For a heartbeat, he just stared at the image. His own face, soft with adoration as he gazed at her. Then his shoulders slumped.

“Every shot,” he whispered, “I pretended it was you.” Tears formed in his eyes. “That’s why I looked like that. Because I was thinking of you.”

Your chest ached. This was the man who’d memorized your coffee order, who’d driven across town at 3 AM when you had a nightmare. The man who rarely cried.

But now…

Now he was crumbling in front of you, raw and exposed, and it shattered what little resolve you had left.

You wanted to believe him. But could you?

His phone screen glowed between you, illuminating the sharp angles of his face. The proof right there: the actress, her boyfriend, their linked arms. “I told her about you. She asked about a double date,” he murmured. “I said no to protect you.”

A beat of silence. Then…

He stepped into your space, and suddenly the world narrowed to the heat of his body, the familiar scent of him wrapping around you like a second skin. Your traitorous heart lurched, pulse thundering in your ears.

“I should've told you,” he whispered, voice rough. “I was stupid. Selfish. I just…” His thumb brushed your cheek, catching a tear you hadn’t even felt fall. “I didn’t want you to see me like that with someone else. Even if it was fake.”

His fingers trembled against your skin. That undid you. H/N never trembled.

A sob clawed its way up your throat. “I would never do that to you,” you choked out, the words scraped raw.

And without even thinking, you found yourself wrapping your arms around him.

He crushed you against his chest, his grip desperate, his chin pressing into your hair as he breathed, “Forgive me. Please. I can’t lose you.”

You clung to him, tears soaking his shirt. “I was so scared,” you admitted. “You looked at her like…like she was everything.”

He pulled back just enough to cup your face, his eyes blazing. “Because I was pretending she was you.”

Your breath hitched.

But then reality crashed back in. You stiffened, hands flattening against his chest. “You still let me believe it. Even for a second.” The hurt seeped back in, slow and poisonous. “You looked perfect together. It felt like you chose her. Like I was... nothing.”

His expression shattered. “You’re everything.”

The words hung between you, fragile as glass.

His fingers tilted your chin up, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw with a reverence that made your breath catch. “We look perfect together," he murmured, lips hovering just above yours. “No one else could ever take your place.” His gaze burned into you…raw, unguarded, the way he only ever looked at you in the dark. “I just want you by my side. Always.”

Then his mouth brushed against yours, feather-light, a tease of what could be. “This is all yours.”

You snapped.

The kiss was supposed to be soft. Sweet. But the second his lips touched yours, something primal roared to life inside you. Weeks of longing, of aching want, the jealousy, surging to the surface. Your hands fisted in his shirt, yanking him forward as you crashed your mouth against his, tongues meeting in a desperate, hungry dance.

H/N groaned, his grip on your hips turning possessive, fingers digging in as he backed you against the table. The edge bit into your thighs, but you barely noticed, not when his lips were searing a path down your neck, not when his teeth grazed that spot beneath your ear that made your knees buckle.

“Ah…H/N…” Your voice was a broken whimper, nails scraping his scalp as you arched into him.

He chuckled darkly against your skin, one hand sliding up to grip your waist. “Tell me what you want,” he breathed, nipping at your collarbone.

His thumb brushed your lower lip, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your mouth with deliberate slowness. “Tell me, and it’s yours. I’ll prove it,” he murmured, voice dipping into that low, honeyed tone that always made your stomach flip. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

The corner of his mouth lifted, that infuriating, gorgeous half-smile, as he leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed your skin. “No one else could ever…”

You cut him off with a sharp tug on his collar, dragging him the last inch until his lips met yours. His words disappeared against your lips as you kissed him. He laughed against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“Impatient,” he teased, nipping lightly at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. “But I’m not complaining.”

You arched a brow, fingers tracing the nape of his neck. “Then stop talking.”

His grin turned wicked. “As you wish.”

In one smooth motion, he spun you around, your back pressing against his chest as his lips found the sensitive spot behind your ear. “Still think I want anyone else?” he murmured, his hands gliding aching slowly up your sides, just shy of where you wanted him most.

You shivered. “If you don’t stop teasing me…”

He chuckled again, dark and amused, before turning you to face him once more. “Then shut me up.”

You barely had time to move when his mouth crashed onto yours, hotter this time, more demanding. One hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back as his other hand traced the curve of your hip, then lower, gripping your thigh and hitching it around his waist.

“This is what you wanted?” he breathed against your lips, grinding his hips against yours just enough to make you gasp.

Your gasp turned into a wicked smile as you bit his lower lip in retaliation, earning a groan. “Keep going,” you dared, voice breathless.

He didn’t need to be told twice. His mouth traveled down your neck, leaving slow, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. His teeth grazed your pulse point, hands roaming with a kind of urgency that felt like possession and prayer all at once. “Mine,” he murmured between kisses. “Every inch of you. Only ever mine.”

When he finally pulled back, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“Convinced yet?” he asked, his voice rough, almost hoarse.

You smirked, dragging your thumb over his kiss-swollen lips. Then you paused, eyes softer now, more vulnerable. “Say it’s only me,” you whispered, barely above a breath.

His breath hitched. For a heartbeat, he just stared, eyes dark, pupils blown, before crashing his mouth to yours in a kiss that felt like a vow.

“It’s only you,” he panted against your lips, dragging you closer until not a single inch remained. “Only you, only ever…”

Before you could protest, he scooped you up effortlessly, one arm beneath your knees, the other cradling your back. You yelped, grabbing onto his shoulders as he carried you toward the bedroom, his laughter warm against your hair.

“H/N!”

“Shh,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I told you I’d prove it.” He nudged the door open with his foot, his voice dropping to that rough, tender tone that always unraveled you. Desire burned in his eyes, fierce and unfiltered. “All night. Every second. Until you believe there’s no one else for me but you.”

Your reply was lost as he laid you gently on the bed, hovering over you like he was both worshiping and devouring. His hands followed, slow and reverent, tracing lines down your body like he needed to learn you again from memory. “And I’m not stopping until every part of you knows you’re the only one I see.” And he did…with lips, hands, and whispered promises that left no room for doubt.

ʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞʚ♡ɞ

♡ Author’s note

Desire: Unleash is taking its toll on me… 🫠🔥 My once-pure thoughts? Gone. Vanished. Stolen by this burning passion that’s creeping into every word I write. This story might just be my most intense one yet… and my poor little heart can barely handle it. 😩❤️‍🔥

Now...who do you think fits this story best?

Love, YumiYue 🌙

Please like, share, and follow! ♡＼(￣▽￣)／♡

Follow me on: 📸 Instagram / 🎵 TikTok: @yumiyue07 📝 Wattpad: @LunaVerse_YumiYue

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fan fiction. All characters and events are fictional and are not intended to represent real people or events.

© 2025 LunaVerse - YumiYue07. All rights reserved. Please do not repost or reproduce this story without permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.

[multiphandomunnies]

boy groups

ateez

day6

got7

pentagon

seventeen

nct

shinee

monsta x

ikon

stray kids

exo

bts

suju

wanna one

[mileyjassie]

✧:･ﾟ.✧ *:. E N G L I S H M A S T E R L I S T :･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧

(f) fluff | (a) angst | (sg) suggestive | (s) smut

ATEEZ

➪ Hongjoong

> "Cafuné" (f)

> "MyOhMy!" (s)

BTS

➪ Taehyung

> "𝙸𝚗 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙰𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗" (𝚏)/(𝚊)

> "𝚂𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐" (𝚏)/(𝚊)

> 1'𝙼 𝙹𝚄57 4 𝙶4𝙼3

> "𝚂𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚅𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎" (𝚏)

SEVENTEEN

➪ Hoshi

> "𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜" (𝚏)

> "𝙿𝙰𝙸𝙽𝙺𝙸𝙻𝙻𝙴𝚁" (𝚏)

> ασφαλής"safe" (𝚏)

SEUNGYOUN (WOODZ)

> "𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗' 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍" (𝚊)

> "𝙼𝚟𝚗𝚐.𝙾𝚗!" (𝚊) / (𝚏)

> "(𝚂𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢) 𝙱𝚕𝚞𝚎!" (𝚊)

IKON

➪ Bobby

> "𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚜" (𝚏)/(𝚊)

> "𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚏" (𝚏)

NCT

➪ Taeyong

> "Paint me." (f)/(sg)

VAV

➪ Ayno

> "𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚖𝚎?" (𝚏)/(𝚜𝚐)

VICTON

➪ Sejun

> "𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜?" (𝚊) / (𝚏)

[proudahgase-exol]

Other K-pop masterist

Here you will find other K-pop groups I will be making stuff for if you would like to see a specific group/Idol in specific let me know by requests or private message and I’ll happily make doodle them I’m open to write for female groups too :)

-𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚞𝚙𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎: 02/02/24

-𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 ♡

Eveything was moved to the main masterlist ☺️

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙨

𝘽𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙣:

𝘚𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘉𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘯

𝙃𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙣:

𝘔𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭

𝙎𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙢𝙞𝙣:

𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝗢𝘁𝟴:

𝘙𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘸𝘪��𝘩 𝘴𝘬𝘻 𝘣𝘧

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𝙏𝙓𝙏

𝙔𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙟𝙪𝙣:

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗲𝗲

ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ :(

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𝙎𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣

ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ :(

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𝘼𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙯

𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙞

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𝙊𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙡 𝙗𝙞𝙖𝙨

𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭

𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘶𝘴

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘐’𝘮 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ REWIND TO YOU 　　────　ᅠ ( myung jaehyun )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀your reunion with one of the most important people in your life, myung jaehyun, was not like what you hoped for at all. instead of a heartwarming session of two best friends meeting each other after a decade of lost contact, you’re facing a person who seemed to forget a meaningful childhood spent together, like it meant nothing at all.

　　　ᅠ 명재현 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 shy!reader ⠀wc 14.6k ⠀ genre fluff angst childhood friends to lovers high school au ⠀ contains mentions of food skinship random ocs some bnd members and shinyu ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net , @onedoornet

　　　ᅠ 　　　ᅠ BEST ENJOYED WITH .. l i f e i s c o o l by boynextdoor, amnesia by boynextdoor, in bloom by zerobaseone, teenage dream by stephen dawes, unfinished business by neriah, if i say i love you by boynextdoor, old with you by grentperez, but you by ikon & serenade by boynextdoor

　　　ᅠ note ᅠ from ᅠ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈 ! ᅠ i hope all of you enjoy this spin i made out of the usual childhood friends to lovers trope! and soph.. i dedicate this to you (Pls Spare me), and if you ask, yes i will dedicate every single leehan and myungjae fic to my wifey!

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

 “I HATE YOU, MYUNG JAEHYUN!”

Your screams echoed through the playground, accompanied by Jaehyun’s loud giggles. You took a deep breath as you chased him around, your hair flying behind you. Jaehyun had ‘cheated’ when the two of you were playing hide and seek a few minutes ago—he went on asking around the other kids if they had seen you. And one of the stupider kids did tell him that he saw you inside the slide. 

Jaehyun was quickly out of breath as he was laughing his heart out while running, and you caught up to him pretty quickly. You launched yourself at him, tackling him to the ground. You hit his chest several times, pouting. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Jaehyun said, blocking your hits. His laughter died down, but that insufferable grin was still glued to his face. He was obviously loving all the attention he’s getting from his best friend—even though she’s sitting on top of him, sulkily pinning him to the ground. 

“It’s unfair,” you huffed. You eventually stopped hitting him, but you were still a little upset. How could Jaehyun win, especially by cheating?

“I’m sorry, Sunshine,” he said, his dreadful smirk morphing into a small yet soft smile. “You’re just too good at hide-and-seek.”

“That doesn’t mean you can cheat,” you replied, a pout still evident in your expressions. 

Jaehyun pursed his lips, and for a while, he stayed silent—the gears in his brain working to think of a solution for you. “What about this—let’s go to the convenience store and buy some Pepero or whatever you want. It’s on me!”

You couldn’t stop a smile from erupting on your face. The key to your heart was the simplest thing in the entire world: food, and Jaehyun knew this—and he often used this fact to its fullest potential. It didn’t really help that he’s your best friend, too, so he clearly knew what your favourites were. You weren’t exactly complaining, though. Jaehyun liked to tease you, and as compensation for making you a little pouty, he’d buy or offer you some food.

A win-win situation for seven-year-olds.

“Okay!” you agreed cheerfully. 

And that’s how you found yourself, happily munching on Pepero and chocolate churro chips on the way back to the playground from the store. Jaehyun walked next to you, holding a bunch of candy in his hands. 

You were munching on your snacks, and were just about to thank him for the Pepero when Jaehyun leaned in, stealing a big bite of the Pepero from your hand. 

You shrieked in shock, pouting after realising what had happened. 

“Jaehyun!” you whined, hitting his arm.

Jaehyun giggled. “You snooze, you lose,” he teased with a stupid grin. 

You crossed your arms, huffing. “Some best friend you are.”

Jaehyun’s grin immediately faltered. He quickly broke the chocolate chip cookie he was nibbling on in half, handing you the bigger piece. “Here. Best friends share, right?”

You eyed him rather suspiciously before taking it. “Fine. But you owe me for life.”

“How does that work?” Jaehyun asked, tilting his head slightly. 

“We’d have to be best friends forever,” you replied. The look on your face was enough to tell how serious you meant your words, even for a first grader. “That way, you can always buy me food every day.”

“What if… I won’t be here tomorrow?” Jaehyun asked. You immediately turned to him, confused. That wasn’t what you expected from him as an answer. 

You took a minute of munching through your chips for you to analyse Jaehyun’s doubtful expression. “What are you talking about? Don’t be silly,” you shoved his shoulder. “You’re always here.”

Jaehyun smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then, promise me—let’s be best friends,  no matter what happens.”

You paused, staring right into his eyes.  

Jaehyun looked at you, his face mixed with some kind of fondness and amusement. “Promise me, Sunshine?” he asked, holding out his pinky in a solemn promise. “Best friends forever.”

You returned his gaze, a smile forming on your face as you linked your pinky with his, sealing the promise without a second of hesitation. “Always.”

The words echoed in the air, and from the way the winds caressed your skin, it’s like the universe had taken note of your promise to each other. 

However, you were completely unaware that this would be the last day you’d spend with him. 

The next afternoon, after completing tasks that your mother had told you to do, you rushed to Jaehyun’s house—a few mere blocks away—with a bag of homemade cookies in hand. A big smile was painted across your face, you were excited to surprise Jaehyun with the sweet treats that you had baked with your mother last night. 

But something was wrong. 

The front yard, usually scattered with Jaehyun’s soccer balls and bicycles, was oddly empty. The windows were shut tight, and the driveway—where his father’s car was always parked—was vacant. 

You felt your heart thump hard against your chest. Your grip on the paper bag tightened, and you approached the front door. 

You knocked. 

Nothing. 

“Jaehyun?” 

You knocked again, harder this time. 

“Myungjae? It’s me, Y/N–”

“Sweetheart? Who are you looking for?” 

You turned towards the voice straight away. It was the old lady who lived next door, the one who always made sure to give you and Jaehyun a popsicle whenever you two passed by her house. She had a gentle yet unreadable smile on her face. You ran up to her, head spinning with a dozen questions. 

“Where’s Jaehyun?” you asked her. 

“My dear…” she began, her voice soft. “Jaehyun left early this morning.”

You blinked. The words were heavy, but you couldn’t understand what they meant. “Left? Where?”

“They moved away.”

Nothing made sense. Jaehyun moved? No one had said anything about moving. 

You looked back towards Jaehyun’s house, hoping that the door would swing open and that he would come running towards you, grinning like he always did. 

But he didn’t come. 

The house was quiet, empty. 

Your throat tightened. “But he promised to play. He said he would… stay.”

The lady kneeled in front of you, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

You bit your lips, and you didn’t realise you were crying until you tasted salt on your lips. 

Later that evening, you had found yourself wandering back to the playground, the noisy chatter of kids playing around fading into the background. The paper bag still in hand, you walked around aimlessly. You could still hear Jaehyun’s laughter ringing in your ears, the sound of your footsteps blending with his as you two ran around. 

Jaehyun was gone.

And he didn’t even say goodbye. 

You sat down at a bench overlooking the playground where the two of you always played, staring at the place where you both had linked pinkies and made a promise. A promise you had believed in with all your heart.

A promise that, it seemed, only you remembered.

“I’LL see you after school, sweetie,” your father says into your hair. You set your lips into a line, nodding timidly. 

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” your mother asks, appearing from behind your father. “We can always accompany you to school–”

“Darling,” your father reminds your mother by putting a gentle hand on her arm. “Our Y/N will be fine. She’s almost eighteen now, I’m sure she can handle it all.” 

You give your parents a reassuring smile before walking away, each step bringing you uncomfortably away from home.

The morning felt weird, anyway. You’re here, in a new school, in a state you’ve never set foot to before. The air here feels like a heavy fog, clinging to your chest as you stand in front of the towering school building. You could feel the weight of an agonising unknown pressing down on you. It’s a sensation that you could never get used to, despite the sun peeking through the clouds, and the bustling cacophony of students around you. You stand at the gates, fingers tightly grasping the straps of your backpack. You take a deep breath, remembering your mother’s advice to help overcome your nerves. 

You walk into your new school, the new feeling of being somewhere so unfamiliar enveloping you. It feels different from the school you left behind—the campus is bigger here, the hallways seemed endless and much wider, and each turn made you feel like you’re lost in a looping maze. They even have a separate building for the library.

You find your footsteps slowing down as you reach the middle of the common area, unsure of where you should go. Your eyes dart here and there, desperately trying to find some kind of clue that could help you. 

You had always been the quiet one, preferring to keep to yourself, listening more than you talked, the one that often found herself slipping to the background of a party and corner of classrooms. Currently surrounded by boisterous students, each seeming to know what they’re doing, you feel slightly overwhelmed. The school map you opened on your phone suddenly feels too complicated for you to understand. 

Suddenly, something solid crashes against the back of your head, causing you to stumble forward, the impact hard enough to make the books you’re holding fall to the ground. 

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!”

You turn to reply, but find your words stuck in your throat. 

A tall guy in a basketball jersey stands before you, his hair tousled in an athletic tangle. He picks up the ball—the solid object that hit the back of your head a moment ago—and scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. He gives you a sheepish smile, trying his best to convey how sorry he is—but you’re too focused on his sharp features and messy brown hair. It’s all too familiar. 

Myung Jaehyun. 

Before you could say anything, he leans down and picks up your books. He hands them to you, a charming smile replacing whatever backward expression he had earlier. “Careful there, newbie,” he says, teasing. “Wouldn’t want to be trampled on your first day here, no?”

You take your books from him, dazed. 

He doesn’t recognise you. 

You watch as he jogs back to his friends, spinning the orange ball in his hands. You stand there, exactly where he left you, unsure of what to do next. 

YOU’RE sitting alone at lunch, perfectly at peace with your packed lunchbox. You sit quietly, not wanting to stand out. This is your first day at a completely new school, and the last thing you want is to make yourself the centre of attention. 

Unfortunately, fate had written that this was your first mistake. 

You’re about to enjoy your lunch in the comfort of solitude, a figure that you didn’t expect to see, again, slips into the seat in front of you.

“Hey, newbie,” you hear Jaehyun say as he takes a seat. “Eating alone?”

You simply nod, not knowing what to say. 

“So, um,” Jaehyun finds himself stuttering after not receiving a reply from you. “You’re the new student, right? That explains the self-introduction in class just now.”

You nod again. Seeing the pitiful look on his face, masked poorly by a confident demeanor, you decide to reply. “Yes. I just moved here.”

Jaehyun’s face lights up like a lightbulb. 

“I’m Jaehyun, if you didn’t know that,” he grins. “I’m in your homeroom! My seat is behind you.”

You noticed that, of course. Who wouldn’t recognise someone whose laugh echoed throughout the room, brightening the atmosphere like the rays of a bright spring morning?

You give him a small smile. 

“Your seatmate, Sanghyeok, is my friend! He told me you seemed… er, lonely,” he hesitates for a while, “so I came up with a genius plan,” Jaehyun reveals with a grin that you’re a bit too familiar with. 

He’d always flash that big smile towards you whenever he wanted to propose a plan, but didn’t really want to take credit for it, in case it was a little too ridiculous. 

“What is it?” you reply. 

“We should be friends,” Jaehyun responds, and your eyes widen almost immediately. 

What does he mean by that?

Your heart begins to race, not just because you’re shocked to see Jaehyun, who was once the most important person in your life, after so many years—but from the fact that he naturally is taking charge, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like it came to him with no hesitation. 

“It’s all good! I talked to my friends—Sanghyeok, Sungho, Yoona and Minji—about this, and they all seem pretty cool about it.”

“Oh,” is all you’re able to manage. Everything is moving a little too briskly, and you’re feeling a bit dizzy from how fast things are escalating. 

You feel your brain short-circuiting. 

Just like that?

No hesitation? No ‘wait, Y/N? Is that you?’? No recognition?

You swallow hard. 

“Thank you?” you say, wary. You take a small bite of your sandwich. “I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Jaehyun beams, and as if on cue, he waves towards a group of people behind you. You turn around, eyes slightly bulging at the way Jaehyun’s friends are quickly approaching your table. You recognise Sanghyeok, naturally, and the girl with a bubbly smile that you assume would be Yoona, but the rest of his friends are new faces for you. 

Jaehyun barely left any room for you to process anything. 

As quickly as they came, the air begins to smell like snacks and sports equipment—a strangely uplifting scent. 

“Guys, meet Y/N!” Jaehyun announces as soon as his friends arrive, putting away their things. “She’s the new kid I told you guys about.”

You look at him for a few seconds. 

Jaehyun is beaming with a smile, and the way he introduced you with such confidence, like you’ve been best friends since forever, makes your heart thump in a weird way.

“Wow, that was fast,” the tall, broad shouldered boy comments, whistling playfully. “Already claiming her as one of us?”

Jaehyun puffs his chest out. “Of course, I have a talent for spotting good people–”

“Hi, nice to meet you, Y/N,” Yoona quickly says, rolling her eyes at Jaehyun. She takes the empty seat next to you. “We’re in the same homeroom. My name is Im Yoona.”

You give her a polite smile. 

A girl with sharp eyes and an amused smile displayed on her face slips into the seat next to Yoona. “So, did he actually ask if you’d like us to sit with you, or did he have you sit here unwillingly?”

You hesitate. “Unwillingly…?”

“Shut up, Minji,” Jaehyun grumbles as the entire group bursts into laughter. 

“That’s Jaehyun for you,” Sanghyeok, your desk mate, says to you. He then gives you a warm smile, just like earlier. “Do you like how KOZ Academy is so far?”

You take a little bite out of your sandwich. “It’s fine. I like how big the campus is.”

“That’s what I always brag about this school,” Minji, who’s been quiet for a while, adds in. The smile on her face is relaxed. “I’ve been here since freshman year, and I still can’t fathom the way we have a swimming pool and tennis courts.”

You nod enthusiastically, recalling how you did see the facilities she mentioned in the school map. 

“Speaking of that, should we give the newbie a tour of the school?” Jaehyun suggests, his face lightening up with excitement. He barely swallows his food as he’s giving you a bright, friendly grin. 

“You speak of her like she’s not in front of you,” the tall boy sighs. He turns to you, smiling apologetically. “I’m sorry. Y/N, isn’t it? I’m Sungho.”

You nod. “Yeah. Nice to meet you.”

“Do you want us to give you a tour of the school?” Yoona asks. She gestures to Jaehyun. “Don’t worry, this dumbass won’t be in charge of it.”

“Hey!” Jaehyun exclaims. 

“You’ll just show her the boring parts of school,” Minji chimes in. 

Jaehyun makes a bewildered expression. “I will not–!”

“Remember the time when Sanghyeok first came to this school? You showed him all the unnecessary classrooms that you didn’t have time to show him where the lunch card machine is,” Sungho adds, laughing.  

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. He passes you a snack. “You’re all so dramatic. Anyway,” he says, shifting his gaze to you. “Don’t mind them, Y/N. You’re welcome here—just sit back and relax.”

You nod, suddenly hyper aware of the fact that it’s the only reaction you’re able to give them so far. You’re not so sure that you’re able to relax when all these new faces have their eyes on you, but surprisingly, their energy isn’t too bad. It’s welcoming, bustling with a friendly spirit. It’s uncomfortable, sure, but it’s not unkind. 

Jaehyun passes you another snack he grabbed from Sanghyeok’s stash, and something in your chest begins to warm. 

Maybe it’s not too bad at all. 

THE next day feels like a dream. 

You arrive at school pretty early, and much to your surprise, you’re greeted warmly by Yoona, who also happens to arrive at the same time as you. She hops off the bus and jogs towards you, catching up to you as soon as you park your bicycle. 

“Good morning, Y/N,” she smiles at you. 

You mirror her expression. “Good morning.”

“It’s still early… Do you want to go to the common area?” Yoona suggests. “I’m sure the rest will already be there.”

You simply nod. “Cool. Let’s go.”

Yoona links her arm with yours, and together, you walk towards the common area. It’s bustling and loud despite it being only half past seven. Most of the energy radiates from Jaehyun and his group of friends: the boys are tossing a basketball up and down—even though they’re clearly indoors, and they shouldn’t be playing with a ball inside. Minji sits on the sofa nearby, leaning back as she lazily reads through a novel, completely unbothered with the ruckus around her. 

As soon as you arrive, Yoona puts her bag down, sitting down next to Minji and they both begin chatting about whatever topic that comes to mind. You, however, aren’t used to this kind of energy—fast-paced, full of jokes and friendly banter. You sit at the edge of the sofa, unsure of how you’d insert yourself into the conversation. 

Jaehyun, on the other hand, is thriving. As always. 

“Bet I can make the shot from here,” he brags, crumpling a snack wrapper in his hands. He gestures to the trash can, located at the far corner of the room. 

“No way,” Sungho scoffs. “That’s, like, ten feet away.”

“You’re all talk, MJ,” Sanghyeok chimes in, laughing. 

Jaehyun smirks, turning to you. “Yo, new kid. Believe in me?”

You meet his eyes, blinking profusely. “Uh…” 

The group laughs, and Jaehyun gives you an exaggerated gasp. He puts a hand over his chest in a dramatic manner. “Wow. The hesitation? I’m hurt.”

“Well–” you say, pausing. You’re unsure if you should say what your thoughts really are, or if you should play it safe. You bit your lip, suddenly feeling self-conscious of the way you’re sitting.

“You’ll miss, definitely,” you quietly mumble. 

For a second—one that felt way too long—Jaehyun stares. 

Then, he throws his head back, laughing his lungs out. “Yo, she’s got a bite! I like her.”

You gape at him, not knowing what to respond to the grin he flashed at you amidst his loud laughter. Your face begins to burn, but the others are nodding in approval.

“Good job,” Minji pats your shoulder. “You’re keeping him humble.”

Sanghyeok hands you a juice box, grinning like his gesture is a kind of initiation. “You’re officially one of us.”

You hesitate, but eventually accept it. 

“Told you you’d fit right in,” Jaehyun says, nudging your side as he grins. 

And just like that, you find yourself smiling back. 

YOU’RE not sure if it’s just you, or it’s that Jaehyun does not remember you at all. It has been quite a long time, you admit that, but you don’t think that it’s reasonable for someone to completely forget someone so important, no matter how long you’ve been without them.

So, for the following weeks, you decided to test the waters, to see if Jaehyun truly did forget you, that if you’re just a passing memory in his childhood. 

“Jaehyun!” you exclaim, running up to the soccer court. The boy perks up, his eyes lightening up as he watches you jog up to him. He was scrolling animatedly on his phone, but when he heard his name being called by you, whatever that he was interested in was tossed aside. 

“Are you done with soccer?” you ask, panting slightly. 

Jaehyun nods. 

“What’s up, newbie?” he then grins, wiping off his sweat using the towel hanging around his neck. 

You cringe slightly at the nickname. “I have a name, you know.”

Jaehyun laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, Y/N. What’s wrong though?”

“Nothing,” you reply. You then rummage through your backpack, bringing out a bunch of strawberry fruit roll-ups. You give Jaehyun a small smile before handing them to him. “Here, I thought you’d want them after practice.”

Jaehyun beams, delightfully grabbing the candies. He opens one of them, and when he’s about to put it in his mouth, he pauses mid-action. His eyes turn straight to you, looking fixedly into your gaze. “Wait.” 

You bite the bottom of your lips, trying to contain yourself. 

“What?”

“How’d you know I like these?”

Your eyes bulge slightly, and you quickly purse your lips together to mask a smile. You knew Jaehyun liked these—ever since you started being friends with him, he had made it clear that he liked everything and anything that tastes like strawberries. You remember spending a lot of time in your childhood, trying the various breeds of strawberry, as well as strawberry candies and snacks that Jaehyun had shared with you; and over time, you just naturally knew specifically what he liked.

And turns out, the five foot seven inches high school senior that’s standing in front of you with a baffled expression on his face still does like strawberry flavoured things. 

He is the Myung Jaehyun that your heart holds dear, even after so many years. 

You shrug. “Just a feeling.”

Jaehyun places the fruit roll-up in his mouth, his gaze still trained on you. In his eyes, you can see that he’s questioning your words. But as the candy melts in his mouth, the doubt begins to dissipate, and his charming smile reappears. 

“Thank you,” Jaehyun’s grin twinkles. He grabs another candy and pops it into his mouth.

“These things are crazy—I can’t get enough of how good they taste!” he begins to chatter as he packs his things, his movement as swift as the speed of the words coming out of his mouth. When he’s done, he stands up straight and looks towards you, the expression in his eyes cheerful and full of energy. 

“Let’s go?” Jaehyun prompts. 

You adjust your backpack’s straps on your shoulders. “Go… where?”

“Home?” Jaehyun replies, perching up his eyebrow. He looks at you like you’ve asked the dumbest question he’s ever heard. “You live in my neighbourhood, don’t you? I always see you cycling home from the grocery store on Saturdays.” 

You hesitate. 

The fact that you do live in the same neighbourhood as Jaehyun does is bothering you in ways you’d never thought it would. It reminds you of the painful separation you faced in your early years of life, and to be hit with such a strong déjà vu years later, you’re not sure if you can handle it. 

Seeing you waver, Jaehyun wears his bag on one shoulder, putting his other arm around you. Your shoulder tense, feeling weird at how he’s so completely at ease with you, like he’s grown up with you for years. 

“It’s okay, Y/N,” he says, his voice oddly absent from the cocky confidence he usually wears. Instead, his voice is comfortingly firm. “C’mon, let’s walk home together.”

As he walks with you to the school gate, the warmth of him being close to you makes your heart ache in ways that are alarmingly familiar. 

IT’S been a few weeks of you trying to execute your attempts at making Jaehyun remember you. But, of course, your efforts decided to fail you. It’s annoying—the way he’s obviously out there treating you like you’re the greatest friend he’s ever had, yet whenever you bring up an old joke or an old nickname that you used to call him, he puts on this confused face that makes you want to slap him and yourself. 

One day, during an afternoon study session, you and your friends had pushed your desks together to mug up upon your studies. You were seated between Yoona and Sanghyeok, and directly in front of you was Jaehyun. 

Tired of solving math problems, you began watching Jaehyun solve a math problem, leaning over his desk. His brows were furrowed deeply, showing how tricky the math problem was. And you notice one thing. 

He was subconsciously sticking out the tip of his tongue slightly. It clicked inside your head, and a roll of memories came playing into your sight. His habit is still the same—exactly like he used to when the two of you were playing jigsaw puzzles. 

You snorted to yourself. “You still do that?” you whispered to yourself. 

However, your whisper was loud enough for your friends to catch. “Do what?” Yoona asked, perking up from her physics homework. 

Her question pulled the entirety of Jaehyun’s attention, and his eyes were locking with yours at once. He had a questioning look on his face, and he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to answer. 

Your eyes widened, and you immediately shook your head. “Nothing,” you stammered, looking away as you bit the inner corner of your cheek.

A few days after that, you were sitting on the bleachers of your school’s soccer field, your homework sprawled over your lap. Jaehyun had made you and the girls come over to watch him, Sungho, and Sanghyeok play soccer at the field. You and Minji didn’t want to at first, but Yoona saw it with a positive note—you were sick of studying at the library every afternoon, so studying at the field could be a nice change. 

It was a windy November afternoon, and autumn was giving way to winter, so every single gush of wind felt like a harsh bite to the skin. You squinted, trying to do your homework as you fought with the wind and the coldness it brought along. You’re not too interested in sports, and it didn’t help that you got there when the match was already halfway through, so you didn’t understand a thing that was going on. 

One thing for sure is that it was quite an intense match. 

“I’m not sure if this was a good idea,” Minji muttered. She shoved her hair into her coat, zipping it up. “My hair is flying everywhere and I can’t even see Sanghyeok. How am I supposed to do anything?”

“Sanghyeok, huh?” Yoona laughed. “You can see them a bit—see, look!” she exclaimed, pointing at the slightly smaller figure of the boys, fiercely in their game. “Sungho and Jaehyun’s about to score!”

Hearing that, you immediately looked up from your homework, your attention officially snatched away from the assignment. You watched intently as the game progressed: Sungho, with the ball in his control, dodged a tackle, swiftly running through the field before powerfully passing the ball towards Jaehyun, who effortlessly scores their winning goal. 

It’s a friendly match between your school’s soccer team and another school, but the celebration that roared through was something else. 

Sanghyeok pulled Jaehyun and Sungho into a bear hug, ruffling both their heads. You heard Jaehyun’s victorious laughs and screams echoing around the air. You smiled.

Soccer has always been one of his passions, and seeing him flourish in it makes your heart bloom in ways you never imagine it would. 

You were proud of him, and it’s a refreshing feeling that you never got to feel years ago, when seven-year-old Jaehyun was telling you all about his soccer dreams. 

After freeing himself from Sanghyeok, Jaehyun ran up to the bleachers. Much to your surprise, he was headed straight to you. He came up to you with a pleasant grin, his face flushed with sweat. 

“Hey, I did it,” he said, breathless. He brought his hand out for a high-five. 

And before you could even think, you stood up and clasped his hand in the old secret handshake from your childhood with him. It came to you like second nature—you couldn’t even stop yourself. 

Jaehyun stiffened, his hand still clasped around yours. 

You were equally as shocked as he is. 

Why did you even do that? 

And what was that reaction?

However, Jaehyun was quick to react—he laughed it off, quickly redoing it into a normal high-five. He gave you another grin before turning away to chug water, leaving you confused and unconvinced. 

Now, you’re not too sure that Myung Jaehyun actually forgot you. 

This theory was drilled into your head even more after another incident or two. 

It was a random Tuesday, where Jaehyun had dragged you and the girls to accompany him to do soccer drills at the field with his team. 

“Remind me why we need to do this again,” Minji grumbled, slumping against the seat. 

Yoona sighed, stifling back a grin. “Because MJ said so.”

“I don’t understand! Why can’t we just wait for them at the library? We need to study anyway,” Minji complained, stomping her feet in frustration a few times. 

“They probably just need some moral support,” you chimed in, watching absentmindedly as Jaehyun is making his team run around the field. 

“They’re seniors already, they should be done with all this,” Minji huffed. 

Yoona shrugged. “You know how they are with soccer.”

“Absolute maniacs,” Minji commented, shaking her head. 

You simply nodded and chuckled along to their conversation, eyes trained on Jaehyun coordinating his teammates in soccer training. The actions then became repetitive, and you quickly got bored. You stared off into space, zoning out. Then, without you realising, a soccer ball from a group of freshmen that were practicing near your seats came flying directly towards you. 

Before you could react, Jaehyun instinctively stepped in front of you, shielding you from the ball with his body. 

The ball bounced off him with a thud, and you gasped. You rushed towards him, Minji and Yoona following you from behind. 

“Jaehyun, are you okay?” you asked frantically. 

Jaehyun picked up the ball, turning slightly to give you a grin that tells you that he’s okay. “I’m okay!” he answered, flexing his bicep. “See?” 

And the memory hitted you like a truck—all this reminded you of the time when the two of you were kids, when Jaehyun would always stand in front of you during dodgeball insisting “you’re too small to get hit!”

A quiet gasp escaped between your lips. “You always do this,” you muttered. 

Jaehyun, who was about to walk back to his teammates after tossing the ball back to them, turned to you. “Do what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. Your eyes narrowed—you could tell that he was feigning innocence. 

“Never mind,” you said, giving him a tight smile. Jaehyun nodded, and you watched him jog back to his teammates, carrying out the practice like usual, a million thoughts racing through your mind. 

He remembers. 

The next week, on a Thursday, you had just gotten back home from your after school Chemistry class—Jaehyun and his mother had dropped you off. After cleaning yourself up and changing into your pyjamas, you sat down at your desk, wanting to get some homework done before you ate dinner. 

Then, your phone pinged with a text notification from Jaehyun. 

hey sunshine

Are u done with the english hw? i wanna see how u did it

Sunshine. 

The nickname that Jaehyun used to love calling you when the two of you were kids, and used to live only a few houses away from each other back in your old neighbourhood. He used to call you that because, quoting him, your smile was as precious as the sunshine on a winter morning. You didn’t—and still don’t—genuinely smile often, but Jaehyun was one of the only people who could trigger it out of you with not too much effort. 

The nickname meant a lot to you. 

You stared at the message in a daze, and when you finally were about to reply, the text was gone. 

y/n, i meant

sorry

You held your hand against your chest, heart pounding like crazy. 

“What the hell was that?” you whispered to yourself. 

So he does remember. 

IT’S a Friday, and you’re sitting down at your desk, unable to focus your brain into another set of math problems. Instead, you sit there, pretending to read through your completed English essay while sneaking glances at Jaehyun. He’s laughing about something with Minji and Sungho, effortlessly conforming with his friends, flashing that same stupid grin that you’ve always remembered from your childhood. 

Your fingers curl around the edges of your desk. 

How could he look so familiar yet feels so distant like a stranger?

You desperately want to believe that he’s forgotten—too much time has passed. But deep down, you know that it doesn’t make sense. He’s too comfortable around you, too quick to include you too. He’s too at ease around you, especially for someone who’s apparently just met you for around two months. 

And the worst part? Your heart is still skipping a beat every time you look at him. Your heart still reacts the same way it did when you were kids—probably even more defined now—cheeks turning pink at his gestures, heart warming at his voice. 

This isn’t fair. Nothing is.

You watch as he ruffles Minji’s hair, annoying her by ruining her hair that she spent an entire morning trying to perfect. He laughs as she swats his hand away, hissing curses at his face. 

He used to do that to you. 

Your grip tightens. 

Maybe you’re just overthinking it. Maybe he really did forget, after all. 

But you can’t just get it out of your head—the way Jaehyun treats you, the small, fleeting glances and the way he easily includes you in every conversation he has and everything he does. It makes you doubt yourself. 

And why do you even care so much?

You turn away, biting your lip. It’s stupid. Everything is just so dumb—you shouldn’t be jealous or feeling worked up about some boy that happened to still be the most important part of your life even after so many years. You shouldn’t even bother yourself with something that happened years ago. You know you shouldn’t hold on to memories that you’re not even sure he still held. 

But you are.

And that fact alone is making you despise everything.

BY the end of the day, you’re lazily packing your bag after the last bell rang. You’re drained after an entire week of classes and endless assignments, and you don’t know if you can survive your after school Math class. Beside you, Sanghyeok is also packing his bag—but he’s doing so at a much faster pace than you are. He gives you an acknowledging smile, a piece of bread in his mouth, before walking out of the classroom. 

“MJ, are we going to the extra football practice coach said we’d have earlier?” Sungho asks, stacking his books into an organised pile before sliding them into his bag. 

Jaehyun looks up from his phone, humming. “Yeah, I’ll go. I’m the captain—can’t miss any sessions, can I?”

Sungho nods in agreement, but before he could say anything in return, Jaehyun’s focus is already shifted to you. 

You’re packing your bag slowly, as if by doing that, you’re able to avoid going to your after school class. You zip your backpack close, feeling someone’s gaze boring into you. You look up, turning towards the source of the tingling sensation. 

“Going home already?” Jaehyun asks, an idle grin displayed on his face. 

You slip your arms into your puffed coat. “Yeah,” you nod, “I have extra class.”

“Let me walk you home,” Jaehyun says, zipping his bag shut smoothly. He swings it over his back. 

“Jaehyun, we have practice,” Sungho reminds. He’s already at the door, gesturing with his chin. 

Jaehyun swats his hand, without even looking at his friend. “It’s fine—you can go first.”

As Sungho leaves with a sigh, Jaehyun grins at you. “C’mon. Let’s stop for some tteok skewers while we’re at it too.”

You stare at him, eyes unblinking. 

Is he being serious? Why is he always insisting on walking you home? Doesn’t he realise what his actions are doing to you? 

Your frown begins to deepen as you recall Jaehyun’s treatment of you ever since you transferred to KOZ Academy: always next to you, effortlessly handing you snacks and drinks—specifically the ones you always preferred, always seeming to prioritise you over everything else that he has; walking you home, buying you food as often as possible, and all the other little things that made your heart somersault. 

You don’t want any of this. 

You don’t like how conscious you are of yourself whenever he’s around. You don’t like how he makes you feel like you’re the most important person in this world. You don’t like how he makes you all smiles—you despise the way he easily brings you out of your shell. 

You clench your fists. 

This is ridiculous. You are being ridiculous. 

Jaehyun has been nothing but very kind and welcoming to you since you first came here. He has included you, so naturally nothing seemed awkward or forced. He introduced you to his friends, and they were all so welcoming you feel like you’ve been friends for ages. He treated you like any other classmate, normal and friendly. 

And that is the problem. 

Because you know that, to Jaehyun, you’re just like any other person here. You’re just a normal classmate. Not the girl who used to braid flowers into his hair as the two of you talked under the shade of the oak tree, chatting your afternoon away. Not the girl that he used to enthusiastically greet every day, eager to share his strawberries. Not the girl that he swore he’d never leave behind. 

You know you mean as much to him as much as his other friends do. You know that his stomach doesn’t do this funny dance whenever you’re around. You know that his cheeks don’t become warm whenever he hears your voice. You know he doesn’t look forward to seeing you every day, like it’s one of the only things that keep him going. 

Your throat burns with this feeling. It’s stupid. You hate whatever’s going on—the faint sliver of hope that Jaehyun just might remember you after all. Maybe he was just pretending. 

But for what?

Because everytime you look into his eyes, you don’t see the Jaehyun you cherished with your entire heart. All you see is someone, still the same Myung Jaehyun, who had long since moved on. 

You’re fine on your own. You know that. You’ve always been. 

You’ve always been by yourself, you didn’t realise how fun and fulfilling it’d be when there’s a special someone in your life. 

When Jaehyun left with no warning ten years ago, you had thought it was the end of the world. You had put yourself through the painful process of moving on, of finally accepting that maybe Jaehyun wasn’t meant to be yours forever all along. 

But then, Jaehyun reappeared. He made his way back into your life, a decade later, as smoothly as the way he first introduced himself to you as a four year old. 

Yet he had the audacity to treat you like you’re a new friend. 

You close your eyes for a quick moment, trying to suppress all the memories that are rushing back into your head. 

“C’mon, Y/N, you’ll be late for your class,” Jaehyun says, tapping your shoulder. It brings you back to reality, and without realising, you’re staring sharply at him with that alarming sensation of tears collecting in your eyes. 

Jaehyun, of course, is quick to notice this. His grin fades into a frown. “What’s wrong? A-are you sick?”

You inhale sharply, taking your bag. “No,” you say, slowly shaking your head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Okay,” you hear Jaehyun quietly responding as you walk past him. You walk out of the classroom and into the hallways, too tired to even stop Jaehyun from following you. You let him accompany you to the after school tuition centre in town, silently waving him goodbye as you watch him cycle back to school. 

You turn around, sighing. 

YOU know you’re about to hit the end of your patience. 

Your school is hosting a winter festival, organised by juniors and sophomores, a few days before winter break. It’s fun when you think about it, but not as much when you’re paired with Jaehyun for a game. 

The school courtyard is bustling with students, all bundled up in wooly scarves, mittens and puffy jackets, gathered together at the booths set up for your school’s winter festival. The ground is carpeted with white, fresh snow, and a large part of it had transferred into a battlefield for snowball fights, complete with stacks of hay, snowbanks, and random objects as forts. 

“Sorry Y/N,” Yoona says, setting her lips into an apologetic line. 

You shook your head, sighing. Everyone is already paired up with each other—Minji with Sanghyeok, Yoona with Sungho—and you’re left with Jaehyun for the snowball game. You look at Jaehyun, who looks very eager. 

“You’re with me, Y/N!” he exclaims, sliding his arm around your shoulders. His smile is bright and, as much as you didn’t like it, it makes you smile too. 

“So we’re going to draw some sticks and see which teams are going to go against each other,” Jihyeon, one of the juniors in charge of the snowball game booth, says as she comes up to you and your friends. 

“You can go first,” you say to Minji, and she nods. 

She reaches her hand in the cup Jihyeon is holding out, and pulls out a random popsicle stick. The edge of it is coloured red. 

“It’s red?” she asks, a little confused. 

Jihyeon smiles. “That means you’ll be competing against another team who pulled out a red stick!”

“That’s us!” Jaehyun, who’s standing next to you, suddenly exclaims. He holds a red popsicle stick in his hand. You turn to him, slightly surprised. You didn’t even realise he had been picking a popsicle stick for the two of you. 

“You don’t mind me picking for us… Do you?” he whispers to you. You give him a small smile before shaking your head. 

“I don’t mind.”

You and Jaehyun are going against Minji and Sanghyeok for the snowball game, while Yoona and Sungho are fighting against another pair of seniors. Jihyeon gave each team five minutes to make as many snowballs as possible. You and Jaehyun worked your best to form the snowballs—you weren’t too good at handling cold snow, but Jaehyun seemed to be the best at it. 

“We’ll win this,” Jaehyun says to you, crouching down behind your side of the area. You crouch down next to him, awkwardly nodding. 

He smiles at you in reassurance, and some kind of positive energy fills you up. 

And before you could even process any of it, Jihyeon blows the whistle, indicating the start of your snowball fight. A chaos, made out of crazed giggles and snowballs crashing against bodies, begins to erupt, and you lose sight of Jaehyun in the middle of it.

Jaehyun is immediately in his element—his snickering laughter ringing through the school courtyard as he hurls snowballs at Minji and Sanghyeok. He ducks and dodges behind a snowbank, his chequered brown and red scarf flying behind him like a flag. 

You’re standing awkwardly behind a stack of hay tall enough to cover you, holding a snowball with both of your hands.  Jaehyun suddenly lands next to you, and as soon as he sees you, he tilts his head with a smirk. “Y/N,” he says loudly against the frenzy, “you’re supposed to throw the snowball, Sunshine, not hold on to it like a favourite teddy bear.” 

Jaehyun gives you a teasing grin before dashing off to hurl more snowballs towards Sanghyeok, triple the amount he just threw to his face moments ago.

You remain there, standing still. 

Sunshine? What was that? 

Your cheeks turn pink underneath your knitted scarf, and it’s hard to tell whether that was caused by the cold or from the way that Jaehyun’s grin made your heart flip. 

You watch as Jaehyun plays around in the snow, his giggles resonating around the air. You stand there, your heart thumping loudly in confusion. 

He definitely remembers. 

You absentmindedly take a step back, clutching the snowball in your hands harder, the stinging cold no longer bothering you. 

A second later, Jaehyun arrives next to you, almost slipping. He pants, and despite that, he’s still grinning joyfully. He locks his gaze with yours, and upon noticing your expression, his smile falters a little.

“Y/N?” Jaehyun asks, “are you okay? Why aren’t you playing?”

“‘Sunshine’,” you state plainly, eyes unblinking. “What was… that?”

Jaehyun freezes. He opens his mouth, but for a while, nothing comes out. He stares at you, something unreadable clouding his eyes. The wind blows at his messy hair, flopping against his forehead. 

“What are you talking about?” he asks, chuckling rather sheepishly. 

You narrow your eyes. You’re not letting this go. “Jaehyun,” you press on. “Answer me, Myungjae.”

Upon the nickname, his eyes widens.

Jaehyun hesitates, and for a while, it looked like he was about to give you the answer you desperately wanted. However, your hopes were crushed as a snowball from Minji came hurling towards your direction, crumbling upon impact against your hair. Jaehyun’s eyes widens, and his focus turns back to the snowball match.

“We have a minute left,” he says, rushingly grabbing several snowballs. He’s about to turn to Minji and Sanghyeok, wanting to throw more snowballs at them—but he pauses. He leans close, brushing snow out of your hair with his free hand. 

Your breath catches in your throat. A rush of warmth goes up your cheeks, despite the raging emotions and thoughts in your head. 

He’s too close. 

Jaehyun chuckles. After making sure all of the snow is gone, he ruffles your hair, trying his best to make it look okay again. “There,” he says, his voice low and comforting. “All good.”

You watch him turn his focus back to the snowball frenzy, unable to utter a word. You stare at him, his grin decorating his already handsome face. Your heart claws against your chest as you try your best to pull your eyes away from Myung Jaehyun, who looks too gorgeous with his brown hair adorned with sparkly snowflakes. 

You know he’s lying. You know he remembers. 

But why is he doing all this?

THE last bell of the day rings, the entire school erupts in a chatter of celebration. Students run out of their classrooms, walking out with their friends as they chat the rest of the day away. Several student council members are doing several of their last duties of the day, making sure that everything is perfect before leaving the school for a month. 

You’re at your locker, double-checking everything. You make sure to stuff your bag with things that you’re not too confident at leaving at school for a month—your chemistry textbook, the mirror that your old friends got you. You also made sure to replace the tape that’s holding up the polaroid pictures of you and your family, hoping that it’d stay up for longer this time. 

Your eyes linger around the polaroid of you and Jaehyun—taken at the young age of six. It was the first day of school, you vividly remembered. 

You used to look at that picture with a bittersweet, reminiscent feeling. You always used to look at that picture with some kind of hope that you’d meet Jaehyun one day. 

But now, you can’t do that anymore. 

You glance at Jaehyun’s direction, a few metres away from you. He’s at his locker with his friends, Ricky and Sungho. He’s laughing, as always, and he’s effortlessly blending in like he always did. He’s enjoying his time with his friends, like he didn’t just spend the last few months unknowingly ripping you into pieces. 

How could he be so carefree when you’re feeling like this?

You hate it. So much. 

Too much.

You hate how your chest aches whenever you catch Jaehyun looking at you, the way he looked at you like any other classmate, betraying the years you spent together. You hate how he seemed to have easily erased you from his past, like you meant absolutely nothing to him. You hate how he seemed to have forgotten you so heartlessly, when you have spent years holding onto him. 

But now, you can’t hold it in anymore. 

Jaehyun had finished his conversation with his friends, and now he’s walking towards you, tossing his ball up and down, flashing that same easygoing smile that had captured your heart—and something inside you snaps.

“Do you really not remember me?”

Jaehyun pauses, his eyes bulging and his footsteps halting. 

You didn’t mean to say it. 

You had spent weeks bottling it all up, second-guessing yourself amidst all the mixed signals. You constantly told yourself that it didn’t matter, that Jaehyun truly did forget you, and that it had been too long for him to even remember you as much as you remember him. 

You can’t just bottle it in any longer. 

Jaehyun blinks, clearly taken aback. “What?”

You exhale sharply. You can’t take it back anymore. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

JAEHYUN bangs his head against his bedroom door, regretting every single thing he’s done. 

Why did he even do that?

After he said goodbye to Ricky, who was going on a winter vacation to Italy, he turned to you. He approached you, subconsciously having that same stupid lovesick grin that his lips somehow form whenever he’s around you. He’s walking towards you, like how he does it every other day.

Usually, you’d greet him with that adorable little smile of yours. 

But today, he was smothered with a menacing glare and a question that he doesn’t expect instead. 

“What are you talking about?” Jaehyun said, trying his best to sound innocent. He was unable to pry his gaze away from you, but he hoped that you didn’t catch the quiver in his eyes. 

You didn’t say anything for a while, and he watched as whatever emotions you had swirling in your beautiful eyes changed into a solid look of hurt and betrayal. 

Jaehyun felt his heart drop to the floor. 

It’s like everything stopped, and his stomach began to twist, the memories rushing back as they played through his mind like a broken film tape that he couldn’t stop from playing. 

“You really, really don’t remember me,” you said, quiet with a humongous amount of hurt. Your voice cracked, and Jaehyun’s heart began to crumble because of it. 

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” Jaehyun replied, forcing out the words as firmly as he possibly could. 

His words felt like acid on his tongue. Jaehyun had told this lie many times before, but today, it felt more painful than the others. But Jaehyun did it anyway, over and over again.

Because it’s easier than admitting the truth to you. It’s easier than having to acknowledge the feeling that’s twisting his heart, hurting his chest. 

You exhaled shakily, and for a second, Jaehyun swore that he could see through you—your eyes searching him, like you were finding the real Jaehyun, who had been the one that promised he’d be your rock until the end of time. 

And the fact that you still had that effect on him—making him feel like he’s on Cloud 9—after all these years, only made it worse for him. 

“You’re lying,” you snapped, your eyes starting to sparkle with unshed tears. Your voice began to rise with every word you uttered. “You do remember me. You remember everything. Don’t you?”

His heart began to thump loudly against his ribs. He had never seen you so worked up like this, he had never heard you raise your voice like this. 

Jaehyun stared into your eyes, the truth burning at the back of his throat. He hesitated, almost spitting it out. 

But in the end, he swallowed it. 

“I don’t get it, Y/N,” he countered, trying to sound confused. Though, it didn’t sound convincing, even to him. “Maybe we’ve met before, in-in the past, but I truly don’t remember anything.”

Your gaze stiffened, and the desperation in your expression faded. Jaehyun kept his guard strong—he couldn’t let you see him crack, even though the weight of your disappointment was heavy on him. 

Then, after a minute of silence that felt too long, you gave him a straight smile. 

“Okay,” you whispered. You slammed your locker close and immediately walked away, not giving Jaehyun a chance to say anything else. 

He wanted to chase after you. But he couldn’t. 

He watched you turn away, and as the doors closed behind you, he felt the loss crumbling upon him, heavy and unbearable. 

YOU’RE not even sure why you’re feeling like this, but you are angry. Upset. 

Who wouldn’t be, especially after witnessing the only person who made you feel truly understood shun you out, saying that he doesn’t remember you?

You didn’t really like leaving your messages unread and unreplied, but for the first time, you let your text channel with Jaehyun clog up. 

It’s the morning of Christmas, and you wake up to almost fifty new texts from Jaehyun alone. You don’t open any of them, but you couldn’t help but read some of it from the notifications bar. 

y/n, did i do something wrong?

y/n, are u okay?

y/n, i can’t believe u declined to go snowboarding 2gether yesterday. we had so much fun!!!

okay fine. i shouldn’t have used that tone

honestly it kinda sucked to not have u around

i know u’d like seeing the sunset from on top of the mountain

y/n i hope u’re eating well

y/n, did u go see the big christmas tree in the city centre? i’m in front of it rn. 

y/n. merry christmas. 

enjoy your day

You sigh, turning off your phone. It pained you, probably just a little bit, to ignore all of Jaehyun’s attempts to reach out to you. You did feel a bit sad that you’re missing out on fun plans that he wanted to do with you—but what could you possibly do? You know you’re not ready to face him without baring your teeth at him. 

You enjoy the day with your family, happy to see them after a long time, especially your cousins and grandparents. You ate a lot of good food, took a lot of pictures, played a lot of games with your nieces and nephews, and of course—exchanged many memorable moments and laughter with your family members. 

You were playing in the snow with your little cousins, your heart stinging a little. Not from the cold, but from the memory that you have associated with snowball fights—Jaehyun. There was something warm about hurling cold balls of snow that made the tips of your fingers red. Maybe it was because you were fond of the person smiling at you during that time, or maybe because the way snowball fights produce heartwarming laughter reminds you of the person that you’ve cherished for so long and how his laughter fills your heart with joy.

Your mother called you inside, and after shaking off all the snow from your coat, you joined everyone else for the gift unboxing time. You got many gifts from your family and friends alike, but when it came to the largest box addressed to you, you can’t help but feel a little pang in your heart. 

Who was it from? 

You flip the card attached to the gift, the world going completely silent for a second. Your eyes widen at the sight of Jaehyun’s name scribbled onto it, along with a short message. 

Merry Christmas. I hope you enjoy this.

“When… how did this get here?” the question escapes your mouth almost instantly, but you know that’s not what you really wanted to ask. 

“A boy came off to drop this just now, when you were playing in the backyard with the kids,” your aunt replies, handing you a piece of brownies. You put it in your mouth, chewing slowly as you try to process her words. “I asked him if he wanted to come in and talk to you, but he refused and ran away so quickly I didn’t have time to stop him.”

You merely nod, unable to say anything due to the heavy feeling pressing down your chest. Slowly, you rip the wrapping paper open, holding in a breath you know wasn’t necessary. 

You didn’t know what you expected. 

An apology letter, maybe. 

Or something that he remembered that you always liked. 

But instead of that, your hands are holding a gingerbread house kit and a store-bought Christmas card taped to it. 

Whatever hope you still had remaining for Jaehyun fades, and your jaw clenches. 

It’s time to stop. 

“LOOK, it’s Shinyu,” Yoona nudges you, giggling rather uncontrollably. You glance at his direction, a little wide eyed from how blatant her statement was. 

You’re walking with Yoona and Minji to your school’s library, located in the middle of campus grounds. You’re almost there, when you spot Junghwan—or more famously known as Shinyu, and his group of friends walking in the opposite direction. 

“Shush,” you whisper. “Why are you making this such a big deal?”

“‘Cause he’s such a gentleman, duh,” Yoona replies, deadpanned. Though, that kind of expression on her face lasts only a second. As you and Shinyu’s steps grow closer to each other, and heat begins to rise up to your cheeks, Yoona couldn’t hold her smile back. 

“We’re just friends,” you state, dismissing whatever she’s about to say. You shove your hands deep into the pockets of your puffed jacket, and you set your gaze straight ahead. 

Yoona gives you a raised brow. “I never said you guys weren’t. Are you saying that you guys are more than that?” she asks, the octave of her voice going higher. 

“Someone’s excited,” you mumble. You quickly turn to Minji, desperate. You’re going to walk past Shinyu and his friends anytime now. 

“Min, help,” you plead between gritted teeth. 

To your surprise, Minji laughs, putting her hands up. “I’ll always defend you, but this time, I can’t—you and Shinyu are too cute for me to prevent it.”

Your heart skips a beat, and your mouth is agape. Though, before you could say anything to counter Minji’s remark—that’s already making her and Yoona laugh—Shinyu is already next to you. 

“Hello,” he says, his voice sweet like honey. 

You freeze in your steps, and you quickly turn to him. Shinyu, standing much taller than you, has a fresh smile plastered on his face–the sincerity of it feels like it’s only for you. Though, you don’t want to get your hopes up for anything. You and Shinyu had recently started becoming friends, right after winter break ended a few weeks before this: he’s in your English and PE class, and he often sits near you when you’re studying in the library. You always see him playing basketball after school, too. 

You give him a small smile. “Hi, Shinyu.”

“Where are you going?” Shinyu asks. He nods in acknowledgement to Yoona and Minji. 

“Library,” Minji replies, looping her arm with yours. “Do you wanna come with us?”

Shinyu glances towards his friends, who’s talking amongst themselves.

“I promised my friends I’d come to study with them in the common room,” he says, before shifting his gaze back to you, and there’s some kind of determination shining through. “But you know what?”

Flustered, you blurt out. “What?”

“Yo, guys, I’ll be studying in the library,” he announces to his friends. Some of them roll their eyes, but eventually, they all agree to meet up after school. 

“Let’s go then?” he says, flashing you a smile. 

Yoona clears her throat, and even though muffled, you can clearly hear her giggling. You press your lips together, nodding. You’re feeling shy for no reason. “Okay. Let’s… go.”

Shinyu grins, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

The four of you walk to the library—Yoona and Minji, to your right, are giggling their hearts at the way Shinyu’s walking to your pace, his position perfectly shielding you from the sun. 

You force yourself to look forward the entire time, Shinyu’s presence suddenly making you feel beet red. Unknowingly, you’re smiling to yourself—Shinyu is well-known amongst your peers for his good manners, and undoubtedly, he’s one of the nicer people you’ve met. You lost count of the amount of times he’s taken care of you, especially when you’re studying. 

You chuckle. 

Shinyu’s not bad. 

“Someone’s in love, huh?” Yoona jests, pushing the library door open. You jolt back to reality, scowling at her. 

“I’m not in love,” you whisper sharply. “Also, shut up, he’s next to me.”

Yoona throws her head back, unable to contain her amusement anymore. You ignore her snickering in the back, and you walk inside the library, clutching the straps of your backpack as you try to find a table with enough seats for all of you. 

As you’re looking, a familiar voice pulls your attention towards its owner. 

“Y/N!” you hear Sungho call you, his voice quiet but loud enough for you to catch. He motions for you and the rest to come over. Yoona and Minji notice this, and they immediately jog over, delighted to see the boys. 

However, you’re a little sceptical. 

Your eyes meet with Jaehyun, who looks rather wide-eyed to see you. You hesitate, your footsteps heavier than before. You haven’t been really talking to him ever since school reopened after winter break, and this is the first time you’re facing him directly. 

Shinyu notices your mood drop. He leans to whisper, “are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, and as far as I know, ghosts don’t really appear in the day.”

You almost burst out laughing at Shinyu’s wooden remark. You bit the bottom of your lips before tugging Shinyu’s sleeve. “Let’s go sit with them?”

“Are you sure?” he asks, voice suddenly shaky. 

You nod. “I’m sure they’ll be okay with it!”

You’re not too sure what made you feel so brave to do so—but you pull Shinyu towards the table that all your friends are sitting at, gesturing for him to sit next to you. Jaehyun, who happened to sit directly in front of the seat that you’re claiming as yours for the day, watched with a dumbfounded expression on his face, his jaw dropped. Yoona and Minji smirked, seeming to know what you’re doing, but  Sungho and Sanghyeok looked a little hesitant. 

Other than the sharp gaze that Jaehyun gave you, lingering a little longer than you’d like, you notice nothing wrong with him. 

Not until an hour into studying together. 

Shinyu, Sungho and Sanghyeok had gotten along quite well, and you often find yourself trying to stifle your laughter at their jokes. You also saw Minji, who was quite hard to impress, laughing along as well. 

You’re mid-laugh when you notice it—Jaehyun’s easygoing demeanour has disappeared. He no longer had that grin that rose higher on one side of his face, one that he displayed when he was amused at something. 

Instead, he’s staring. 

Not at you, but right at Shinyu, who’s sitting next to you, chatting animatedly about a variety show he watched last night with his sisters. You couldn’t help but observe the boy sitting in front of you—his jaw tight, his fingers obnoxiously tapping against the table. It’s obvious that something is bothering him, given that his bright energy had dimmed. 

Normally, Jaehyun would add in to the conversation, spicing things up with a joke here and there, lighting up the atmosphere with his contagious laughter.

You were about to ask Jaehyun about it, but Shinyu is quicker than you thought. He leans in to show you a video on his phone, something related to the funny moment in the variety show that he watched last night.

Your attention is almost immediately pulled towards Shinyu and his phone, but Jaehyun’s actions tugs you back to him harder. 

He pushes back his chair with a loud, audible scrape. 

“What the hell, man?” Minji hisses. 

“Y/N,” Jaehyun says, not even looking at anyone else. “We need to talk.”

“Huh?” you splutter. You thought you made it clear that you don’t want to talk to him.

Jaehyun stomps towards you, and before you could say anything to counter, he grabs your wrist and pulls you away to a far corner. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, as soon as Jaehyun stops in his steps. You’re more confused than angry, the entire incident that happened before winter break pushed to the back of your mind. 

Jaehyun mumbles something, but you can’t hear him at all. 

“Sorry, what?”

“I said nothing,” Jaehyun replies, his eyes narrowing. 

His reply, rather sharp, startles you a little.

And that makes you a bit worked up. “What’s up with you?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. 

Jaehyun doesn’t reply. Instead, he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, muttering to himself. His eyes dart here and there, as if he’s trying to find some kind of answer. You stand there, silent as you watch him do his thing, not knowing what to do as a response. 

After a while, Jaehyun does something that wasn’t even in the list of things you guessed he’d do—he unzips the hoodie he’s wearing and places it on your shoulders. You stare at him with bulging eyes, mouth agape.

What is he doing?

Before you can even do or say anything to stop him, Jaehyun guides your arms into its sleeves, zipping the hoodie up for you. He takes a step closer to you, leaning close to grab the hood behind your head. 

You feel your breath stuck in your throat. 

He’s. Too. Close.

Jaehyun, his gaze showing how focused he is at this, pulls the hood over your head, tugging it slightly so that it’s secured. His eyes find yours, and for a moment, the world around the two of you freezes. 

You clear your throat, and Jaehyun’s brought out of his trance. 

A fake cough escapes him, and he shoves his hands into his pocket, acting cool before he starts walking back to the table. 

“Jaehyun?” you call after him. “What’s this?”

Jaehyun looks back at you. “Nothing. Just keep it on. You get cold easily, don’t you?”

You go back to your seat, feeling extremely weirded out. What’s up with this guy? 

A part of you tells you that he’s trying to mark you as yours. 

You grimace, shutting up that tiny part of you. 

He doesn’t even bother to remember me, so why would he do that?

JAEHYUN’S behaviour just keeps on getting weirder and weirder. You really tried your best to tell yourself that it’s not a big deal—but at this point, nothing can convince you that Jaehyun’s not being weird. 

You could recall quite a few moments of him being rather significantly bitter, for a reason that you’re not even aware of: one of them being a free period before lunch on a Wednesday, where Shinyu came over to you to ask you a few questions about Math. 

You had barely even managed to reply to Shinyu’s request before Jaehyun suddenly got up from his seat, clapping his hand on your shoulder. 

You turned sharply towards him, shocked at both the impact and the unexpected gesture. “Jaehyun, what—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, loudly, “I just remembered! I owed—I mean, you owe me something! An answer. About… about something!”

“What thing?” you frowned. From what your memory serves you, there’s no such thing—

“The, uh—” Jaehyun waved his hand vaguely, glancing at Shinyu, who raised a brow at him. “You know? The thing we talked about yesterday. Super important. Can’t wait. Urgent. Like, right now.”

Before you can even open your mouth, Jaehyun grabbed your hand and pulled you a few steps away. 

Shinyu, grabbing his papers, shook his head. “At least be subtle, dude.”

Jaehyun, hand still clasped around yours, narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Shinyu chuckles. 

You looked back and forth between the two guys, sighing heavily. Just what is going on?

Another similar moment occurred the next week, at lunch on a random Friday, where Jaehyun was annoying the living daylights of Shinyu for some stupid reason that you’re not too sure of. Shinyu, being the absolute angel he is, completely dodged Jaehyun’s attempts. He remained next to you, chatting about whatever topic that came to mind. He also made sure to include the rest of your friends, and to give you any part of his lunch that he noticed you liked—that extra crispy chicken or the cream cheese bun that he hadn’t touched yet. 

Shinyu had to leave a bit early because his basketball coach had something to discuss with him. He bid you farewell, and as soon as he was out of earshot, Jaehyun immediately perked up, smiling like none of his attempts at making Shinyu pissed off ever happened. 

Tired of the same kind of thing happening each day, you decided to confront him about it. At first, you didn’t want to—afraid that you’re just imagining things, but after discussing it with Yoona and Minji, you knew it’s for the best. 

“You’re acting weird,” you finally said, eyes pointed straight at Jaehyun. 

Jaehyun paused midaction, his noodles slipping down from his chopsticks. “Are you talking to… me?”

Minji punched his shoulder. “Stop being so dense, idiot.”

You nod in Minji’s direction, before turning back to Jaehyun. “Yes, you.”

“Me?” Jaehyun scoffed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m not being weird.”

Sungho snorted in his drink, and Sanghyeok shook his head. You bit back a smile—you’re definitely not imagining this. 

“You glared at Shinyu for five minutes. Did not blink.”

“I did not.”

“And you interrupted every time he spoke.”

“Coincidence.”

You gave him a deadpanned look. “You literally dragged me away mid sentence more than two times.”

The falter in Jaehyun’s cocky gaze tells you that you’re right. 

Jaehyun groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, maybe I’m acting weird. But it’s not because of him. Not because of Shinyu. I just—” 

He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

You stared at him, more confused than ever. 

Jaehyun avoided you gaze, and that confirms everything you’re questioning

“...Right.”

He’s definitely acting weird. 

JAEHYUN is in a mess. He doesn’t know what he’s doing—and he definitely doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do either. 

He knew, from the moment you stopped even reading his messages over the winter break, that he’s truly messed up. But he doesn’t really know what to do, and the only logical solution in his head is the option that he wants to avoid the most. 

Jaehyun is dragging his feet through the hallways, dodging noisy students chatting and huddling in groups at the lockers, when he hears a familiar voice talking as he’s passing by. 

Shinyu. 

The guy that gets on Jaehyun’s nerves whenever he’s around you—the audacity that he has to be flirting openly with you, to show off the fact that he might have a bigger chance with you than Jaehyun ever will. 

He wasn’t paying attention at first, and had his foot out to step away already.

“I think I’ll do it in the courtyard,” he hears Shinyu say, “it’s the most perfect spot. Besides, Y/N likes the marigolds there.”

Jaehyun feels his heart stop, his body freezing mid-step. 

He barely registers the students passing him, hitting his shoulders multiple times. Shinyu’s words sink in, heavy and dangerous. 

“Damn,” another voice speaks, “so you’re really confessing? On Valentine’s day?”

“Yeah, of course,” Shinyu replies confidently. “I mean, Y/N’s amazing. I’d be an idiot not to try.”

“Doesn’t she see you as just a friend?” a voice points out. 

Shinyu sighs. “I know, but what’s the harm in trying?”

“She’s quiet, though, isn’t… she?” another voice asks. 

Shinyu shrugs. “I don’t mind, she’s perfect in my eyes anyway.”

Jaehyun’s stomach twists. His fingers are clenched into fists at his sides, and he knows he should just walk away. 

But his feet won’t move.

Jaehyun stands there, his heart hammering violently against his chest. He frowns, pretending that whatever he heard didn’t get under his skin at all. 

Shinyu is confessing. To you.

And the worst part is Jaehyun has hardly any idea what to do about it.

JUST as he thought his day couldn’t get worse, Jaehyun spots Shinyu running up to you after the last bell rang, a bunch of snacks in hand. He intercepted you from Jaehyun, who was on his way to you, a box of Pepero in his hand. 

It slips from his hand, falling on the ground.

Jaehyun knew. 

From the way your eyes begin to light up whenever you see Shinyu, and the way your smile is just so bright whenever he’s near. The way you talk more and more, prompted so effortlessly by Shinyu. The way you look like you’re glowing when you’re with him… it hits Jaehyun.

He’s going to lose you. 

His vision becomes blurry as he stands in the middle of the courtyard, as still as stone. Jaehyun can’t ignore this any longer. 

He can’t ignore the way his heart is eager whenever he sees you. He can’t ignore the way the world seems a little less gloomy, a lot less lonely when you’re around. He can’t ignore the way his chest hurts, like it’s about to burst, whenever he sees you flashing that adorable, rare smile around anyone else. He can’t ignore the fact that he feels like he’s about to throw up flowers everytime he sees you with Shinyu, all giggly from whatever he says to you. 

He just can’t disregard the fact that he has obvious feelings for you, that he still loves you after all these years. 

Jaehyun had always known those feelings, pushed away deep in his stomach, but these past few weeks—it keeps on growing larger and larger, more urgent and more consuming. The small flutter in his chest when he watched you laugh, the feeling that settled comfortably around him whenever you look at him with those warm eyes, and the overwhelming ache when you’re around Shinyu. 

Jaehyun had tried his absolute best to ignore it. 

But now, watching you interact with Shinyu—sharing snacks, smiling so shyly with him—it made Jaehyun extremely aware of himself. Shinyu, your fellow classmate who seemed to know exactly what to say, the one who made you giggle and smile the way Jaehyun used to always do… the feeling hits Jaehyun differently. 

Jaehyun felt like the ground underneath him was about to crumble, and the earth was about to eat him alive. His heart twists so painfully it makes him feel like he wants to run and hide from the shattering realisation that you might never look at him the same way he has always looked at you. 

He wishes that he had been more courageous, more brave to admit to you that you’re his world, and he’s orbiting you—that you hadn’t left his mind, ever since he left ten years ago. Not even once. He wishes that he had been more valiant, and that he told you, the first time he bumped into you, after a decade of not seeing his favourite person—that he missed you dearly. Your laughter, your smile, and the way that it’s reserved only for him to see—he wishes he said that to you the first time. 

Honestly, Jaehyun wasn’t even really sure why he lied to you. Sure, he was scared, afraid that you might not remember him at first. But after a while, he just didn’t want his feelings for you to be out in the open. He knew you remember him—but he was simply terrified. 

What if you didn’t like him the way he did? 

What if he’s the only one that’s feeling like you’re the most important person in life?

Jaehyun was too afraid of you rejecting him to stop lying. 

Though, he thought that his way of showing his feelings, rather subtly in his opinion, through little acts of service could make you notice. 

Even so, Jaehyun knew that it only made you more confused. 

He really wanted to be happy for you—he really does. You deserve all the goodness in this world, and you deserve to be happy with someone who looks at you the way Jaehyun looked at you all this while, but his chest twists with a blazing jealousy: an emotion he never thought he’d feel when it comes to you. 

It’s not fair. 

Not to you, not to him. 

How could he be so stupid? How could he be such a loser, a coward? 

Jaehyun takes a shaky breath in. He could tell, from the way you looked at him, and from the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, that you had no idea. No absolute idea about the chokehold you have on him—the way every shared moment, every glance and every smile is carved into his soul. 

You have no idea how much he’s hurting, from the way you’re clearly upset with him, the way you’re growing closer to Shinyu, and the way you’re slipping away from his reach with every passing moment.

But then, something clicks in him. He’s not going to let the ache, the jealousy and the frustration take the reins—he’s no longer going to shrink back into the shadows. 

This is going to be his moment. His time to shine. Jaehyun could feel the determination settle firmly in his chest, and his mind begins to come up with a plan. The fear and the doubt is burned to ashes, and it’s no longer going to hold him back. 

He had been such a fool. 

This time, no more hesitating. No more waiting. No more wondering what if. 

If he wants you, he’s going to fight for it. 

He’s not going to let himself lose you to anyone else. Not now. Not ever. You’re his best friend, his rock, his confidante. You understand him in ways others don’t, and he knows you more than you even know yourself, even after all these years. And if anyone is going to make you realise that, it’s him. 

JAEHYUN hadn’t meant to walk this way. 

It’s the night before Valentine’s day, and somehow, his feet had brought him to your house, a couple blocks away from his own. He’s in a new neighbourhood, and the house he’s approaching is new, but the feeling is familiar. 

He slows to a stop, staring at your house—remembering how it used to be some kind of second home to him. It’s a new house in a new state, but Jaehyun could still remember sitting on the front steps with you, munching the afternoon away with your mother’s homemade snacks. He still remembers doing homework with you on the porch, laughing at the way you huffily grumbled under your breath when it came to difficult questions you couldn’t solve. He still remembers building a pillow fort in your living room, calling it your ‘secret base’. 

His fingers curl around the strap of his guitar. 

Have you ever realised how much you mean to him? How much do you always mean to him?

A gust of wind blows through the quiet street. 

Jaehyun stares at your window, the warm glow radiating from inside. He swallows hard. 

It’s now or never. 

Taking a deep breath, he takes a step forward and begins picking his guitar. 

YOU shove your headphones down your neck, heart thumping fast. 

What’s the noise outside?

You walk towards your window, nervous upon hearing the melodious guitar and the singing muffled by the bricks in your walls. 

“Man, I'm so nervous to death

I relax my stiff lips

I might fail miserably like this

I might mess up

Hi, the weather's nice. Wanna take a walk?

My shy voice is just for you!

Ah, please, don't say no

Oh, I won’t beat around the bush

From my head to toe

No, even my heart’s under pressure…”

You recognise that voice. 

Jaehyun. 

What’s he doing here, in the middle of the night? 

You peek through the curtains—and your assumption is correct. There he is, Jaehyun, standing rather awkwardly in front of your driveway with his guitar. 

Your eyes widen. He’s singing. 

Or more accurately, screaming. 

“I love you, baby, baby, baby

I’ve been screaming the whole neighborhood knows 

I like you!

My neighbors go, yah, yah, yah

Let's get some sleep, yoo-ooh, oh-oh

I swear you'll like it.”

You close the curtains sharply, turning your back to the wall. Your face begins to feel hot, and your breaths turn to short, ragged gasps. 

You close your eyes, trying to drown Jaehyun’s voice out, but you can’t. 

Slowly, you open your eyes again, letting yourself to hear him out.

And soon enough, you realise the meaning behind the words he’s singing. 

“Ah, please, don't say no

Oh, I don't want to be just friends

From my head to toe

No, even my heart's under pressure!”

You push your curtains aside, taking in the view. You expect him to be singing rather calmly, but instead, you’re greeted with Jaehyun, kneeling on the road as he’s serenading you. 

“I love you, baby, baby, baby

I've been screaming the whole neighborhood knows 

I like you!”

You barely processed what he just sang. 

One second, you were in your room, standing frozen as your breath hitched at the sound and sight of Jaehyun’s singing echoing through the neighbourhood. 

Next, you’re running out of the house. 

You didn’t think—you just ran. 

Your parents, who were alarmed by Jaehyun’s singing, didn’t even have time to react. You flew past them, socks sliding across the wooden porch, nearly tripping down the slippery steps. 

“Y/N! Your coat—”

Too late. 

“I love you, baby, baby, baby

I've been screaming𑁋”

You bolt towards Jaehyun, crashing into him with so much force he barely had time to catch his guitar. 

“𑁋the whole neighborhood knows 

I like you𑁋oof!”

From the door, your dad raises a brow. “...did we miss something?”

Your mother merely chuckles, smiling knowingly. 

“You really—” you gasp, your breath visible in the air, “—had to do this in front of everyone?”

Jaehyun grins, entirely unbothered. “Of course.”

You cover your face with your hands—you were embarrassed, at first, but now it’s not even about all that. Your body is trembling, not from the cold nor embarrassment, but from the overwhelming warmth that is engulfing you. 

Jaehyun gently pries your hand away. “Hey,” he says softly, his grin now a gentle smile, “did it work?”

Your lips part. “What? Did what work?”

“Making you fall for me.”

Jaehyun barely had time to flash you another of his smirks before you fling yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. 

He lets out a startled laugh, stumbling back slightly. “Whoa—hey, what’s–”

“You’re so embarrassing,” you say against his jacket, your grip tightening. “And loud. And ridiculous.”

And just so, so cute. 

Jaehyun giggles, running a hand through his hair. “So,” he says, and you pull away to look at him. “How was it?”

You look at him with slightly narrowed eyes. “How was what?”

“I just serenaded you. That basically means you have to date me now, right?”

You gasp, hitting his chest. “Jaehyun–!”

“I mean, that’s like, a rule or something. I put in all this effort, to sing to you on a very cold winter night—made myself look completely ridiculous, and now you have no choice but to fall for me. That’s how it works,” Jaehyun continues, a smug look on his face.

You roll your eyes, to hide the obvious flush in your cheeks. “You’re unbelievable–”

“Unbelievably charming?” he cuts you off, wiggling his eyebrows.

“No. Unbelievably embarrassing.”

Jaehyun dramatically gasps. “Excuse me, that was romantic. I even practiced the song! Twice!”

You swat your hand, face burning, but he catches it. 

You stare at him, wide-eyed, your heart dangerously racing. 

“Y/N, listen… I know I can be a lot,” Jaehyun begins, his voice softer and more serious now. His grip on your hand tightens. “And you’re quiet and reserved, but I think we fit perfectly. With each other.”

You want to say something, but you keep your silence—you don’t really trust yourself to say anything in the state you’re in. 

“You know why?” Jaehyun continues rambling, his grin morphing into one of the most lovesick smiles you’ve seen, and you find yourself mirroring it. “I love making you smile, and I want to always keep on making you smile until, like, forever—”

Your heart makes a backflip, or something, but you feel your face flushing even more. “Jaehyun, stop–”

“And if you don’t like me back, that’s fine. That… is… totally okay! I will totally accept rejection gracefully, I’ll just be heartbroken for like, ten years—”

“Oh my god—”

“—but if you do like me, please tell me before I make a bigger fool of myself.”

Jaehyun pauses, catching his breath. His eyes find their way back to you, and in the silence he’s left between the two of you, you can’t hold yourself back anymore. 

You grab the front of his jacket and yank him forward.

“Shut up, Myung Jaehyun.”

And you kiss him. 

Jaehyun lets out a startled sound, but it isn’t long before he melts into you, his hands gripping your waist as he kisses you back, deep and eager. 

It isn’t shy. Nor is it soft. 

It’s everything—messy, desperate, and full of all of the things you couldn’t say to him.

By the time you pull away, Jaehyun is a breathless mess. He blinks at you like you had just punched him square in the face. 

It’s certainly out of character for you, you know that, but you didn’t expect Jaehyun to look absolutely smitten. 

“...Well.”

You pant, glaring up at him. “There, you finally shut up,” you mumble. 

Jaehyun licked his lips, his grin slow and teasing. “…You can do that anytime.”

You gasp, shoving him. 

Jaehyun giggles, grabbing your hand before you could run back inside. He pulls you close, and places your arms around his waist, in the warmth of his jacket. 

He rests his forehead against yours, your noses brushing. 

“So, are we official now, or do I need to sing another song?”

You look at him, your heart beating with a certain answer. 

I love you.

Though, of course, you’re too embarrassed to say that to him. You smack him before hiding your face in his chest. 

“Shut up, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun only laughs, and a warm feeling fills you up. He pulls you closer, hugging you tight. “Okay, sweetie, I think that’s enough singing for tonight.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀want more like this? check out the 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

[yena-enha]

𝐀𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 (𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬)

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆──────────────────────────────⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

Warning - Angst, heartbreak, emotional damage, unrequited love, unresolved feelings, mentions of vomiting

Note - SFW CONTENT

Genre - Angst, Emotional Realism, Romance

Pairing - Ni-ki x Fem!Reader

Song Inspiration - "Love Scenario" by iKON

Word Count - 1.9k words

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆──────────────────────────────⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

You met Ni-ki in early spring, when the cherry blossoms hadn’t yet bloomed and the skies stayed gray. He stood in the middle of a crowded crosswalk, hood over his head, headphones in, completely oblivious to the world around him. And somehow, even then, your eyes found him.

And somehow, even then, he looked up and found you too.

---

It started small. A shared umbrella during an unexpected downpour. Late-night phone calls that stretched until sunrise. Fingers brushing too long when passing coffee. And then, suddenly, all at once—love.

You fell in love with Ni-ki the way most people learn to breathe. Naturally. Inevitably. Painfully, once you realized you wouldn’t know how to live without him.

He was your first in many ways. First love. First heartbreak. First time you truly believed someone could see all of you—and still choose to stay.

Until he couldn’t.

---

You gave him the bracelet the night before he flew to Tokyo.

It wasn’t fancy—just a black braided cord, handmade and clumsy, with a small silver plate you had carved his initials into. You’d pricked your fingers twice while making it. He never knew.

You handed it to him quietly, scared if you spoke too loudly, he’d vanish.

“I know it’s not much,” you mumbled. “But maybe when you wear it… you’ll think of me.”

Ni-ki had stared at it like it was made of gold. Like it was sacred.

He slipped it on and pulled you in, forehead resting against yours.

“I’ll think of you even when I’m not wearing it,” he promised. “You’re in everything now.”

You cried that night, in his arms, afraid of losing a future that hadn’t even begun.

---

A week later, your birthday arrived. You didn’t expect anything. Time zones and distance had already begun carving gaps in your conversations. But a small package arrived, with no note—just a necklace.

A thin gold chain. A single star pendant.

You FaceTimed him immediately, tears already burning your lashes.

“A star?” you asked softly.

Ni-ki smiled from across the world. He looked tired. Paler.

“Because you’re my constant,” he said. “No matter where I go… I’ll find my way back to you.”

---

But he didn’t.

Because love, you learned, wasn’t always enough.

Not when time demanded sacrifices. Not when dreams started pulling in opposite directions. Not when life hardened the softest parts of you.

You fought to keep it alive.

He tried too, in the beginning.

But one night, everything fell apart in the silence between words.

“I love you,” he said, brokenly. “I love you so much. But I can’t keep doing this. I’m not who you need right now.”

Your throat had clenched, heart pounding like it was trying to escape.

“I never asked you to be anything,” you whispered. “I just wanted you.”

He cried then. You could hear it over the line.

“I’m sorry.”

Then nothing.

Just a dial tone.

---

You wore the necklace every day after that. You didn’t take it off when you showered, or when you slept, or even when it tarnished over time.

People told you that you’d move on. That time heals everything. That someone new would come along.

But they didn’t understand.

You never fell out of love.

So how could you fall in love again?

---

Years passed.

You built a life. A small, quiet one. You wrote, you read, you worked a job that paid the bills but never lit your soul the way he had.

Every year, on your birthday, you touched the pendant and thought of him.

And every year, you wondered if he ever thought of you too.

---

Then came the wedding.

You weren’t invited, of course.

But mutual friends posted photos. They never meant harm—they just didn’t know.

He looked beautiful.

A crisp white suit. That same shy smile.

And beside him, the woman he chose.

You noticed two things immediately.

Her dress was perfect.

And his wrist was bare.

No bracelet.

You threw up in the bathroom that night and didn’t eat for three days.

---

You never married.

Not because no one wanted you—people tried. You even said yes once, just to see if your heart could pretend.

It couldn’t.

You called it off a month before the date, crying into the same pillow he once held you against.

Because how could you vow forever to someone else when a part of you still belonged to someone who let go?

---

Then, one Sunday in late autumn, you saw him again.

You were in a bookstore, your hands wrapped around a paperback you wouldn’t end up buying, when the doorbell chimed.

Ni-ki walked in like he hadn’t shattered you years ago.

And yet—your heart still fluttered.

He looked older. Taller. More grounded. But his eyes? Still held that same fire.

And when they found yours, they widened.

He walked over slowly, almost like he didn’t believe it was real.

“Hey,” he said, voice hoarse.

“Hi,” you whispered, the necklace suddenly heavy against your skin.

His eyes dropped to it instantly.

“You still wear it.”

“I never stopped,” you replied.

He exhaled shakily. “I looked for the bracelet. Before the wedding. I wanted to wear it.”

Your chest tightened. “Did you find it?”

He shook his head. “No. Maybe that was the point.”

You said nothing.

He did.

“I tried to forget you. I thought time would do that.”

“Did it?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

He looked at you—really looked at you. Then, almost too softly to hear:

“No.”

---

You walked through the city together after that.

He told you about his job. His travels. His quiet regrets. You told him about your apartment. Your writing. Your empty bed.

He didn’t mention his wife until you asked.

“She’s… kind,” he said. “Good to me. She deserves someone who loves her entirely.”

Your heart cracked.

“And you don’t?” you asked.

Ni-ki looked at you with eyes that had loved you once, and maybe still did.

“I don’t know how to love anyone the way I loved you.”

---

When the sky turned gold and the evening crept in, you stood beneath a streetlamp, like the universe had paused.

“In another life,” he said, voice trembling, “I would’ve stayed.”

You looked up at him. The boy you once loved. The man you still did.

And with every broken piece of yourself, you smiled.

“In another life,” you whispered, “I would’ve been enough.”

He reached for your hand but didn’t take it.

Instead, he stepped back.

And walked away.

Again.

---

You stood there long after he disappeared, the cold biting at your skin.

When you got home, you opened your jewelry box.

The necklace sat heavy against your collarbone.

You didn’t take it off.

You couldn’t.

Because some loves never leave you.

Some ghosts don’t fade.

And some hearts? They only ever belong to one person.

Even if that person never comes back.

Even if they marry someone else.

Even if the love becomes something quiet. Something sacred. Something that lives in silence and solitude.

You never married.

You never moved on.

Because your heart still whispered his name when the world got quiet.

Still ached when it rained.

Still reached for the boy who promised you the stars.

And even now—

Even years later—

You still loved him.

Not because he was perfect.

Not because he stayed.

But because he was almost everything.

And you were almost his.

Almost.

Always.

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆──────────────────────────────⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

«Masterlist || Introduction»

Taglist» @strxwbloody

⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆──────────────────────────────⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

[vorfreudevortex]

a portrait of us - thirteen

a nanami x reader smau

masterlist

notes: we're almost done!! aaah

warnings: angst lol, slow burn, swearing, a little ooc, a typo or two

next: part fourteen

tag list // @aporcelainphantom @bubybubsters @sad-darksoul @corvid007 @kenqki @ikon-teen @shhthisblogsasecret

© vorfreudevortex | all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, repost, or otherwise share my work.

[soundsofcicadas]

Swan Song, part six

Parts one | two | three | four | five | six | seven (final)

Pairing: Koo Junhoe x Reader (f)  

Genres: Writer AU / Friends to lovers  

Count: 3756

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, intoxication, and drunken behavior.

Synopsis: Junhoe, your childhood best friend reappears in your life after years apart, bringing back memories, unresolved feelings, and an unexpected request—to write about his wedding. As you accept, the reunion stirs something deeper, leading you closer to the truth behind why he gave up the dream he once lived for.

Nearly two months had passed since that afternoon at the noodle shop—an unexpectedly emotional moment between you and Junhoe. Since then, you hadn’t seen him—not with the wedding drawing near. But you still kept in touch—messages exchanged like warm embers between busy days. Until slowly, they faded, growing less and less frequent.

In one of those less frequent messages, Junhoe reassured you that he was doing fine. He understood your worry. The silence, he explained, wasn’t distance—just the weight of planning a wedding. He even shared that he and Yuna were keeping things simple—an intimate ceremony at the church in your hometown, followed by a modest reception at his family’s house. Only a few of Yuna’s closest friends, a handful of relatives, and of course, you and the boys were invited. The kind of celebration that felt more like home than spectacle.

Later, he and Yuna went over the same details during an online meeting with Yeri and the Exurb Nouveau team. It was the first time you’d seen him again—even if only through a screen. Junhoe spotted you right away in the conference room, a look of delight crossing his face the moment he did. The couple appeared composed—no tension, no off-putting energy. They handled everything with the same professionalism as the team, and the meeting moved smoothly through planning, setups, and assignments.

Then suddenly, it hit you—how quickly time had slipped by since you last saw him at the record store. Now, here he was, about to be married. And here you were, the one writing about it.

So you leaned into what you knew best: your work. You poured yourself into the coverage, every detail, every task—doing your best to keep your emotions out of it. More than anything, you wanted to be happy for him. To honor the bond you still had. If this—friendship—was all that remained, you were willing to hold onto it.

Even your suspicions about Junhoe’s condition faded into the noise of everything that followed.

One week before Junhoe’s wedding, you found something unexpected waiting in your mailbox. Amid the usual flyers and mundane letters sat an envelope you didn’t recognize—sleek, elegant, crafted from heavy cream cardstock. Your name and address were handwritten in clean, deliberate strokes, and the flap was sealed with a wax stamp—intricate, unfamiliar, and bearing no recognizable insignia. No return address. No clue who had sent it.

You furrowed your brow. Junhoe’s wedding invitation had arrived weeks ago. So what was this?

Slipping your finger beneath the seal, you carefully opened it. Inside lay a single card, thick and smooth. Embossed in graceful cursive across the center, it read:

If you have received this envelope, you are invited and required to attend Koo Junhoe’s surprise Bachelor Party this coming Friday. Party starts at 8 PM. Dress code: Evening attire.

Beneath the message, the location was printed in bold, smaller text, followed by what looked like a disclaimer:

This one’s just for Junhoe’s inner circle, so keep it under wraps. It’s not your average bachelor party (no strippers, no wild games). But feel free to bring a date. –KJH

You couldn’t help but laugh at the “no strippers” line—thank God it wasn’t one of those parties. But the amusement faded quickly, replaced by curiosity.

KJH?

The initials echoed in your thoughts. Who could it be?

Then a name surfaced—Kim Jinhwan. You’d never met him, but remembered glimpsing him at one of Junhoe’s concerts. A longtime best friend from the music scene. You could almost picture him behind the invitation and the surprise planning. How he found you, you weren’t sure. But he had his ways—and that surprised you more than anything.

Thursday.

You stood in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting the apricot-colored silk dress you’d bought for tomorrow night’s party. The dress was sleeveless, falling just past your knees, skimming your calves but stopping short of your ankles. The fabric shimmered in the light, and as you examined yourself, you debated whether the color had been the right choice. Maybe you should’ve gone with black—safer, more formal. Then again, the shoes you picked out complemented the dress perfectly: a pair of stilettos in the same apricot hue.

As you continued to second-guess the decision, your phone buzzed on the bed beside you. You picked it up and saw a message from Hanbin: Hey y/n, Yeri and I will pick you up at 7 p.m. tomorrow.

Just as you were about to reply, another notification lit up the screen. This time, it was from Yoshi: Hello noona, I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow night at 7. See you!

You stared at the message, blinking. A pause stretched out as your thoughts scrambled to catch up—Yoshi? You hadn’t asked him to pick you up.

And then it hit you.

You brought a palm to your forehead, groaning as the memory came rushing back. A few nights ago, the entire magazine team had gone out for drinks—a rare moment when deadlines were done, and even Yeri and Chanwoo let loose. You remembered sitting beside Yoshi, laughing over something trivial… and then—nothing. A hazy blur. You’d gotten drunk.

Too drunk.

Bits and pieces floated back—Junhoe’s bachelor party, plus-ones, and somewhere in the haze, you might’ve asked Yoshi to come with you as your date. Your stomach twisted.

You had no idea how he responded, but judging by his message now, he’d taken your invitation seriously.

Regret bloomed. What did I even say? you wondered, mentally retracing each fuzzy step of that evening. Part of you wanted to reply and clear things up—politely decline, say you’d made a mistake. But another part hesitated. Hanbin would be with Yeri, and Yunhyeong was bringing his girlfriend. If you backed out, you’d be the only one arriving without a date.

You sighed, sinking onto the edge of the bed. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. Yoshi was good company. And somehow, the idea of walking in with someone by your side felt easier.

With a heavier breath, you picked up your phone again, the weight of embarrassment pressing down. You stared at Yoshi’s message before typing your reply—reluctant, but sincere:

Hey, I’m so sorry for being drunk and all over the place the other night. I must’ve said something dumb. But thank you for remembering and agreeing to come with me. I really appreciate it. I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself. Your cheeks warmed at the thought of Yoshi reading it, probably smiling in that easy, harmless way he always did.

Then you tapped Hanbin’s name: Bin, no need to pick me up tomorrow. I’m riding with Yoshi.

Not even ten seconds later, your screen lit up again: Okaayyy, Ms. Bringing-a-Date.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. Of course Hanbin would tease you.

Friday.

The night was supposed to be a celebration, but Junhoe’s excitement dipped the moment he noticed you weren’t there.

The party was held at a stunning villa owned by Jinwoo—Jinhwan’s boyfriend. The place was lively and inviting, with large windows overlooking a glimmering pool, its surface reflecting the string lights crisscrossed overhead. A movie projector played classic films across a floating screen nearby, adding to the dreamy ambience. Inside, a billiard table and a modern vintage jukebox stood in one corner of the spacious lounge, surrounded by other gaming setups. The living and dining areas had been transformed for the occasion—tastefully decorated in rich reds and gleaming silvers, with a table overflowing with mouthwatering food, snacks, and drinks of every kind.

Junhoe had only expected a quiet dinner with Jinhwan and Jinwoo, who had just arrived in town for the wedding—but instead, he was met with dim lights, loud cheers, and familiar faces. It was his surprise bachelor party.

Everyone was there: industry friends, and of course, his groomsmen—Jinhwan, and his childhood companions Hanbin and Yunhyeong—each with their partners in tow.

Still, one face was missing.

With a slight frown, he turned to Hanbin. “Where is she?”

Hanbin, already thumbing his phone, didn’t miss a beat. “I’m texting her. She said Yoshi got the GPS wrong, but they’re close.”

Junhoe said nothing, but the detail stuck—Yoshi was her plus-one.

You and Yoshi arrived at the villa at half past eight.

As he parked the car, Yoshi looked genuinely apologetic. “I’m really sorry, noona. There was a mix-up with the GPS—the place I pinned had almost the same address as this one.”

You smiled and waved it off. “It’s okay, Yoshi. Don’t stress—we’re here now.”

Music and laughter greeted you as you approached the villa. You saw Hanbin by the door, grinning. “Finally. Thought you two got lost for real.”

Junhoe stood just behind him, dressed in faded jeans and a white tee under a black leather jacket—completely off-theme compared to the rest of the guests who’d clearly gotten the memo about the dress code. You were amused by how unprepared he looked—he clearly hadn’t seen this surprise coming.

You laughed it off. “I’m so sorry—”

But Yoshi quickly cut in, “It was my fault. I messed up the GPS.”

Junhoe gave a distracted nod, his eyes on you—drawn to your apricot silk dress, your hair tucked softly behind your ears.

After making your rounds and greeting the guests inside, you eventually stepped back out and found yourself alone with Junhoe by the pool. Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac played from inside the villa, blending with the quiet dialogue of Scarface on the projector.

Smiling, you handed him a bag containing your gift. “I know this is your night, but…sorry again for being late. And—congratulations, Junhoe.”

His eyes widened. “Y/n… you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to,” you said, throwing him a cheeky wink.

Junhoe pulled out a dark red box with a crisp white ribbon from the white paper bag. Carefully, he untied the bow and opened it. Inside was a deep wine-colored Valentino tie.

He let out a low whistle. “Wow… this is beautiful.”

“You’re getting married. You deserve something nice,” you said with a grin, giving him a teasing shove.

Junhoe looked up, a tender glint in his eyes. “You always knew how to pick the right things.”

You shrugged, heart thudding harder than you wanted to admit. “Just figured it’d suit you.”

“Thank you, y/n. Really,” he said, tracing the silk with his fingers, looking at it like it meant more than just a gift.

For a breath, it felt as if it were just the two of you—suspended in something that didn’t need words.

Junhoe turned the tie over in his hands, admiring it a little longer before glancing back up at you—his expression now more curious than grateful.

“I see you brought Yoshi…” Junhoe said, trying to sound casual, though you could feel the weight beneath it. “Are you two…?”

You laughed, nervous. Your fingers found a stray strand of hair, tucking it back as you glanced toward the pool. “It’s… not like that.”

“Didn’t mean to pry,” Junhoe said, feigning nonchalance. “But you came here with him, so… I guess that means something.”

You hesitated. You couldn’t exactly tell him you’d drunkenly invited Yoshi just to avoid feeling left out. Instead, you deflected, eyes sweeping across the villa. 

“Can we talk about how impressive this party is? Jinhwan really went all out. He even nailed your vibe—jukebox and all.”

Junhoe chuckled, catching your dodge. “Yeah… he really did.” But softer, he added, “I hope Yoshi’s a good guy. Whoever you’re with… I want him to see you the way your friends do. The way I do.”

“You deserve the best guy on the planet, y/n.”

You swallowed hard at that. He looked at you—protective, sincere. You weren’t sure what to say, or if you could say anything at all without something slipping that wasn’t meant to.

With a teasing grin, you steered the conversation elsewhere. “Okay, Mr. Sentimental. Let’s talk about you. How’s the groom-to-be feeling, huh? Two nights left before your big day.”

Junhoe moved the conversation along with a smile, but his eyes stayed on you longer than they should have. “Honestly? It didn’t really hit me until recently. Everything’s been so busy. But now that it’s almost here… yeah. It’s surreal.”

You chuckled, trying to play it cool. “So? Where are you two headed after the wedding? Somewhere fancy, I bet.”

His smile grew, laced with excitement. “Paris. We’ll be spending a month there.”

“Wow.” Your jaw dropped. “A whole month in Paris?”

Junhoe nodded. “Yeah. Yuna’s always dreamed of it, and honestly, I could use the escape too.”

“That sounds perfect, Jun,” the words slipped out like nothing was wrong, even though part of you was still conflicted. You couldn’t help but wonder if this would be the last time you’d stand this close to him… or if you’d become someone he once knew—again.

The conversation faded as voices called from the patio doors.

“There they are—Joan and Bob!” Yunhyeong teased. “Food’s getting cold, guys. Are we missing out on some juicy gossip or what?”

Hopefully, Junhoe missed the reference. You shot Yunhyeong a glare, but could he be right? Was Junhoe the Bob Dylan to your Joan Baez?

Hanbin threw you a dramatic side-eye, wagging his finger in mock scolding. “Your date’s inside losing at pool, by the way, and you’re just out here? Cold move, y/n.”

Junhoe smirked, casting you another glance. 

You laughed, hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright—we’re coming!”

************************************************************************

It was a filling, satisfying dinner—plates passed, stories exchanged, and laughter bouncing off the villa’s walls. With full stomachs and loosened spirits, the guests began to drift apart. Some clustered around the billiards table, others lounged by the pool beneath the projector’s glow. 

In the living room, you found yourself in easy company: Yoshi by your side, Hanbin and Yeri beside him. Across from you, Yunhyeong and Eunha shared a sofa, while Junhoe perched on the armrest. The center table was a makeshift bar, lined with every kind of drink—wine, tequila, beer, soju, even sake. Bottles clinked, glass met glass, and conversations tangled together in teasing remarks and tipsy banter that spilled freely. Yunhyeong launched into another camping story, reliving the night a drunk Hanbin had crawled into his sleeping bag by mistake, using him as a pillow.

“When I woke up,” Yunhyeong said, already laughing, “his mouth was on my cheek—and I caught all his saliva.”

Hanbin doubled over wheezing as the whole group burst into laughter. Yeri groaned in mock horror, gripping her drink. “That’s foul, babe. Absolutely foul.”

You leaned past Yoshi to tap Hanbin’s knee, a sly grin in place. “Bin, remember when we went drinking for Donghyuk’s send-off?”

Hanbin pressed his glass to his face, eyes shut tight with laughter. “I know where this is going!”

You turned to include the rest of the group.“Yun got so wasted that night, he walked straight to the fridge near the cashier—thought it was the toilet.”

Yunhyeong threw his head back laughing, one hand over his face. “I hate you!”

“He was seconds away from unzipping his pants,” you continued, “until Bin and Dongie tackled him yelling, ‘Hyung! That’s the fridge!’”

Hanbin slapped his knee, voice booming.“We thought we were gonna get banned! He just kept mumbling, ‘Gotta pee real quick…’”

“I was sleepy!” Yunhyeong yelled through the laughter.

Junhoe leaned over, cracking up. “You almost peed on the beer bottles?”

Eunha giggled. “That’s the most Yunhyeong story I’ve ever heard.”

“Still not as bad as his body rolls at that jazz club for my birthday,” Yeri added, grinning.

You raised your glass toward Yunhyeong with mock pride. “Call it balance.”

The group burst into laughter again, each chaotic memory turning the atmosphere lighter and louder.

As the hours wore on and drinks continued to flow, snacks were passed around, and the atmosphere grew hot and heady—voices rising with old stories and new jokes. At one point, Hanbin raised his glass to Junhoe in a toast, offering his congratulations. Each of you followed, sharing your best wishes for the groom-to-be. Eventually, Jinhwan and Jinwoo took the reins, cranking up the energy in the room.

“Alright, everyone!” Jinhwan announced, clapping his hands. “Enough sitting around—get up, we’re dancing!”

The jukebox whirred to life, blasting The Rolling Stones’ Let’s Spend the Night Together, earning a collective cheer. One by one, people began pulling each other onto the open space in the living room, now cleared for dancing. You couldn’t stop smiling as you stood, watching Yeri tug Hanbin by the wrist toward the makeshift dance floor. Yoshi offered his hand with a small bow, and you let him lead you with a soft laugh.

As you swayed to the beat, you took in the scene—friends laughing, dancing freely, arms slung over shoulders, memories unfolding in real time. You couldn’t describe the feeling exactly, but it filled you to the brim. Bliss, nostalgia, and a fleeting kind of magic. Everyone was here. Together. And for tonight, nothing else mattered.

You spotted Junhoe across the room, now being dragged into a goofy dance-off with Yunhyeong to Footloose. He was laughing—head tilted back, gummy grin wide, eyes crinkling, completely swept up in the moment.

And that, you thought, might’ve been your favorite part of the night.

It was well past midnight when everything began to hush. The drunken laughter and shouting had faded into hums and sleepy smiles. The jukebox clicked, and a soft ballad began to play, threading its melody through dimmed lights, the lingering scent of alcohol, and the cool brush of night air.

Only a few remained on the dance floor—Jinwoo and Jinhwan swaying close, their foreheads nearly touching. Yunhyeong had spun Eunha once before she tucked her head into his shoulder. It was a kind of love made not of words, but of rhythm and breath.

On the sofa, Hanbin lay passed out with his head in Yeri’s lap, mumbling something unintelligible now and then. She simply brushed his hair back, smiling sleepily. Yoshi, seated beside you, was nearly dozing off, his head leaning against the cushions. You, on the other hand, were still very much drunk—smiling in a tipsy daze, chin propped in your palm as you watched the couples dance.

Then you heard his voice. 

“Wanna dance?”

Junhoe, just as drunk as you were, stood beside you, hands in his pockets. A lopsided smile ghosted across his lips. There was a glint in his eyes you couldn’t quite read—but the way he looked at you tugged at your heartstrings.

“I’m going to step on your foot,” you warned.

Junhoe chuckled, extending his hand. “Then I’ll just have to be careful.”

Your fingers met his, and he pulled you up with a laugh that made your heart stumble. Together, you walked toward the open floor, giggling like kids at a school dance. The next ballad that played was Break It to Me Gently by Brenda Lee.

You placed your hands on his shoulders; his found your waist. It seemed as if the world had quieted. The party, the drinks, the reality waiting beyond tonight—all of it faded. It was just the two of you, swaying beneath dim lights and slow music. He smelled of musk and tequila, you of vanilla and wine. The mix was dizzying, but neither of you minded the proximity. Nothing was said, but in your drunken stupor, you wished time would stand still. That he didn’t have to go. That he wasn’t getting married.

The song ended, leaving behind only the soft crackle of the jukebox. You and Junhoe came to a gentle stop on the floor, your head resting against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek.

You looked up at him, blinking slowly, a lopsided, foolish smile curling at your lips—until your balance gave way.

“Whoa, careful!” Junhoe caught you before you could fall. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, steadying your swaying figure. 

The sudden motion caught the attention of everyone in the living room—Hanbin lifted his face from Yeri’s lap, Yunhyeong glanced over, and even Yoshi blinked himself awake.

Junhoe, still holding onto you, gave a sheepish grin. “She’s okay. I got her.”

“Maybe she should lie down,” Yeri said with vague concern.

“I’ll take her,” Junhoe said, meeting Yoshi’s gaze. Yoshi simply nodded, guilt flickering across his features.

“There are spare rooms upstairs,” Jinwoo said, still clinging to Jinhwan. “Use any.”

Junhoe gave a nod of thanks and crouched down. “Alright, up you go,” he said, hoisting you onto his back in one fluid motion.

You mumbled something barely coherent, arms draped loosely over his shoulders as he carried you upstairs. Despite the alcohol in his system, his steps were careful as he carried you through the hall and up the stairs. Inside the guest room, he switched on the lamp. Warm glow spilled across the bed. 

Junhoe set you down gently, slid off your heels, and pulled the blanket over your frame, smoothing it over your shoulder. For a moment, he just stood there, uncertain. But as he turned to leave, your hand caught his wrist.

“Stay,” you mumbled.

He nodded, pulled a chair closer, and sank into it with a sigh. Elbows on his knees, he watched your flushed cheeks and fluttering lashes.

“You’re really drunk,” he said, grinning in his own buzzed state. He could still hold his liquor—just barely.

You giggled, words tumbling without filter.“Everyone’s drunk. Hanbin talks too much. Yunhyeong thinks he’s a DJ. So dumb…”

Junhoe laughed under his breath. “Look who’s talking.”

The silence settled in as your eyelids drooped. Then, almost like speaking in sleep, you whispered, “I can’t wait for you to get married, Junhoe.”

Junhoe sat still. He had heard it—all of it.

“I want to forget how I feel about you. Just… wait until I can move on.”

His lips parted slightly, then pressed into a thin line—controlled, but shaken.

“Maybe if I’d told you how I felt before you left, you wouldn’t have been gone so long.”

A sharp pang shot through his chest. The timing couldn’t have been crueler—your once-concealed feelings now laid bare, on the eve of his vow to someone else.

You mumbled a bit more—nothing that made sense—and then you were out, fast asleep.

Junhoe stayed there for a while, just looking at you. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hand hovering longer than he intended. Finally, he stood, taking one last look before leaving the room—carrying a truth he hadn’t been ready to hear.

[dropthedemiurge]

writing tag game

tagged by @fairlylokai - thanks a looot!~ It was fun.

1. How many works do you have on AO3? -> 50 (yeay! celebration!)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? -> 229,657, this is more than I thought I'd ever write in English tbh

3. What fandoms do you write for? -> K-pop, KBL, Thai BLs

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? -> Boredom is a crime (???), It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to, [Calculating Tae Myungha's happiness...], Not Me, Not You, But This Is Where We Are Needed (still feel bad about this one oops), Caught in the downpour

Despite me writing a lot of low-rated fics and rare pairings, I can understand all of these – except for such huge love for my first ever BL fandom fic, it's short and WaiKorn?? You guys are fun :D No wonder I stayed writing more after such warm welcome.

5. Do you respond to comments? -> Yes! I'm always reading and waiting for comments, but sometimes I do not respond immediately because I want to have time to be able to reply in more depth... and then object permanence issues kick in, but I promise I will reply to every single comment one day or another^^ (except for comments on my K-pop fics because I do not want to awaken my dark past and dead ao3 fandom)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? -> My last one, about Myungha from LFLS past life. There was just no way to end it on a happy note – which is funny because it's called "I'll Write You a Happy Ending". However, I also wrote a pretty heartwarming fic in the same setting (Moonlight Chicken, you can guess what mutual setting was used) so idk, I guess it's the characters that dictate where their story go.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? -> Based on the readers' response, I tend to write heartwarming and happy fics even when I desperately try to write angst all the time :D I'm an eternal optimist, I can't even decide which one's happiest. I guess, I'll have to go with my LiTA SkyRain trilogy, the second one "Clear skies after the gentle drizzle" because the atmosphere is just so domestic and sappy and cute and loving-caring till the very end.

8. Do you get hate on fics? -> Surprisingly, I don't. Despite all my rare pairings and exploring of unusual ideas and trying to hurt characters, I don't. But sometimes I get comments that expect way more out of my future chapters that I intend to write, and that's what can freak me out and put into a writer block (because I can and will try to rethink the rest of the fic to manage the expectations).

9. Do you write smut? -> I don't. Even when I really try to, it's barely smutty. It can only appear in some way if characters are canonically very prone to being horny. Instead, I love exploring kinks in platonic ways. So most of my fics are aspec-friendly (sometimes asexual-friendly and sometimes aromantic-friendly too, not always both).

10. Do you write crossovers? -> Every BL fandom deserves a crossover with Not Me universe. That's my motto 😆

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? -> Not as far as I remember, no. Perks of writing a lot of rare-pairings no one is really interested in, I guess xD

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? -> Not yet. Compared to other countries who cannot stand writing fics in their own language cuz it's too cringy, Russians have a huge fic writing community. However, since I can fluently write in both languages, I translate my own fics from and to English when I want to :D Secret story: my iKON fic in Russian became a Last Twilight fic in English because the concept was just perfect to be rewritten for those characters.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? -> Considering that I love brainstorming fics with my discord QL writers gang friends (shout out to them<3), a lot of their ideas or situations end up in my fics, or once we tried to write a game script because I could feel that was too big of a project on my own. I am a bit of a perfectionist in this sense, though, so I tend to push for my vision to be pursued and that's why I don't really co-write. But brainstorming together or taking input from others is a lot of fun!

14. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? -> I already mentioned it above, it's my Not Me/The Eclipse body-switch character-switch fic Not Me, Not You, But This Is Where We Are Needed . It's also the fic that in my mind was 2-3 chapters crack humor story, but the readers in the comments were so hyped up for it and the concept - that I realized I better turn it into something cool, long-chaptered and give fix-it character arcs and psychological exploration to all characters... That sounded impossible for the writer of my mild level. So I doubt I'll be able to give this story justice but I'd really love to one day.

15. What are your writing strengths? -> Uniqueness. I like exploring unusual concepts, or forms, or characters and scenes people rarely write about. I think I'm also quite good at writing fun dialogues.

16. What are your writing weaknesses? -> I don't know how to cause emotions from readers or write about emotions and descriptions. I am reading crafting literature about this but I still have a long way to go to figure it out :D

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? -> Very fun concept! AFTG fandom and books are the prime example. But it has to be done right. If it's unnatural translation, or something that is only done just because and stands out when characters says it, it's really obvious. I write and use words from other languages sometimes when it's suitable. But also providing translation or context for those who don't know the language is also important.

18. First fandom you wrote for? -> Shaman King and Naruto, probably. Haha. At that time and age, crossover fics or cracked-up humor ensemble fics were really popular. I would never reread those but I think very fondly about my first steps.

19. Favourite fic you’ve written? -> That's a very hard question... I think for some magical reason, all my Only Friends fics have great quality and I enjoy rereading them a lot myself, and I haven't been able to replicate the same writing style in other fics xD I'm also very fond of all my SkyRain fics because so many writers share my vision and we've got many amazing fics. I love BlackYok fics because writing them always gives me reason to indulge in some weird kinky shit.

Still, I think my favourite fic will be NPC Supremacy Zone (with LFLS OT3 poly and me trying to pay homage to original story through Sangwon lens) once I finish it - simply because how dear the characters are to me, how much fun I have writing them, and how much effort and planning I put into this story; hopefully I will manage to write it the way I'll be proud of. Right next to it is Magnetic Hearts, Bad Buddy OT4 long-fic for the same reason (except the planning part, that one fic is pure improvisation lol)

tagging @wereflamingo and @doyou000me and @xagan :] Come and brag and ponder about your stories!

[maniacmiri]

Hey everyone!

I'm looking for a long-term kpop roleplay partner. I'll try to keep this as short as possible...we can discuss the details later.

Most importantly, I am 21 years old, so you have to be 18 at the minimum. I will NOT play with minors under any circumstances.

My writing style is 3rd person present tense (though I can do past tense as well). I'd say I'm somewhere between semi literate and literate depending on how the roleplay is going. I don't like replies that are just one sentence but due to work and just life in general, I also can't write 5 paragraphs for each reply. So, anything in between that is fine for me.

I work an 8 to 5 job, but I always try to reply at least once a day. On weekends, I can manage a few more replies usually. If I'll be absent for a couple of days, I'll let you know and I'd appreciate if you could do the same.

As for plots, I'm open for pretty much anything. The only thing I really don't like is alpha/beta/omega dynamics. I have a strong preference for dark plots with lots of hurt/comfort and angst mixed with fluff, so it would be awesome if you would share that sentiment. We can talk about our limits, of course, and I will respect your boundaries if we end up as partners. You should be able to handle smut, though.

I exclusively do mxm ships. No OCs please. I'll list the groups and ships I do below:

BTS:

Jimin x Jungkook, Jimin x Yoongi, Jungkook x Yoongi, Namjoon x Jungkook, Namjoon x Taehyung, Jimin x Namjoon, Yoongi x Namjoon, Jin x Jungkook

Stray Kids:

Felix x Hyunjin, Minho x Jisung, Chan x Felix, Chan x Seungmin, Jisung x Hyunjin, Changbin x Hyunjin, Minho x Felix

TXT:

Yeonjun x Beomgyu, Yeonjun x Soobin, Soobin x Beomgyu, Beomgyu x Taehyun

GOT7:

Mark x Jackson, Jackson x BamBam, Yugyeom x BamBam, Mark x Yugyeom, Mark x BamBam, Jinyoung x Mark

EXO:

Chanyeol x Baekhyun, Luhan x Sehun, Kai x Baekhyun, Baekhyun x Luhan

BigBang:

GD x Taeyang

Ikon:

Hanbin x Jinhwan, Bobby x Hanbin, Junhoe x Jinhwan

Shinee:

Taemin x Minho

I am very open to cross-shipping between groups, so if you have a ship you'd like to try, just let me know.

If you're interested, just shoot me a message. We can write either here or on discord. I'd be very happy to hear from you <3

[multiphandomunnies]

ikon

reactions

harry potter headcannons

s.o sends an inappropriate photo

imagines

jinhwan

look

air

yunhyeong

bobby

you’ve changed

i missed you too

b.i

bf! b.i

why did you leave so soon?

awkward

and you are?

june

dk

coffee shop confession

chan

[jaekiji]

𝔸𝕡𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕪 - Jung Wooyoung

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 : WooyoungxHami (OC)

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: Un amour 𝓉𝑜𝓍𝒾𝓆𝓊𝑒, une lettre, des 𝓇𝑒𝑔𝓇𝑒𝓉𝓈. C'était les seules 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓈 qu'il lui 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓉 .

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 : 3.379

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 : Angst / Sad End / Weep / negative depiction of wooyoung / Toxic relation... / Suicide mention...

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼 : French Fiction / Inspire By APOLOGY - Ikon

Elle était la sans vraiment comprendre la raison qui l'avait poussé à l'abandonner, et de regarder la voiture s'éloigner. Elle avait bien vue que dernièrement, il avait changé. Ses mots n'étaient plus les mêmes… Ses expressions avaient littéralement changé. Elle savait que depuis quelques temps, il n'allait pas bien. Plusieurs fois, elle le vit pleurer silencieusement. Mais comment en si peu de temps, un homme peut il changé autant ? Et comment l'homme avec qui tu partages ta vie peut t'abandonner comme ça sur un trottoir.

----------------------

Encore un matin ou ses bras l'emprisonnait. Protecteurs, chaleureux. Un matin aussi agréable que les autres qu'elle passait à ses côtés. Elle s'échappa discrètement du lit tout en ayant un regard sur ce garçon qu'elle aimait tant. Machinalement ne sentant plus sa présence il se tourna pour attraper son oreiller et ainsi le serrer contre lui. Elle sourit innocemment voyant cet homme musclé dormir tel un enfant. Elle enfila quelque chose pour ensuite quitter la pièce. Elle se dirigea donc dans la cuisine avec qu'un seul but : préparez le petit déjeuner.

Une fois qu'elle quitta la chambre, le jeune homme peu enfin ouvrir les yeux. Il se tourna pour se retrouver sur le dos. Un soupir s'échappa de ses lèvres et il vint se frotter le front. La jeune femme n'avait pas remarqué que son petit ami était réveillé depuis un moment déjà. Et qu'il fin de dormir.

Mais le garçon ne supportait plus le comportement de la jeune femme. Il l'aimait c'était une évidence, mais la proximité que la jeune femme voulait désespérément le fatiguait... Il aimait ses baisers, ses moments de tendresse. Mais il aimait avoir une certaine distance dans son couple.

Mais cela, la jeune femme n'aimait pas trop. Il était lâche certes il n'osait pas aborder le sujet ne voulant vexer sa copine mais, il était temps pour lui de mettre les choses au clair dans leur relation.

La jeune femme de bonne humeur, ce hâtait à préparer le déjeuner voulant faire plaisir au garçon. Elle ne se doutait pas une seconde de l'attitude de celui-ci. Enfin décidé à se lever, Wooyoung arriva dans la cuisine avec une certaine appréhension. Il se glissa derrière sa petite amie avant de l'emprisonner de ses bras et de l'embrasser chastement sur la joue.

-Tu me chatouilles

-C'est le but recherché, que fais-tu ?

-J'ai préparé le petit-déjeuner et ensuite je vais nous préparer un panier repas pour ce midi, nous allons pique niquer tous les deux

Sora tout sourire investi dans sa tâche, ne vit pas le visage de Wooyoung changé d'expression. Encore une fois, elle avait organisé tout le programme de la journée sans en informer le garçon.

-Ne penses-tu pas, que j'ai aussi mon mot à dire, sur le déroulement de la journée ?

-Chéri, je fais ça pour nous. Pour passer un moment que tous les deux.

La jeune femme semblait déçue

Peut-être mais aujourd'hui, j'avais prévu de voir les garçons. Nous sommes constamment ensemble. J'ai besoin de voir mes amis.

- D'accord... D'accord ne t'énerves pas, faisons cela une autre fois, déjeunons au moins ensemble ?

Wooyoung aimait la jeune femme c'était indéniable, mais son comportement l'agaçait assez souvent. Cette façon de vouloir être constamment collé l'un à l'autre devenait étouffante par moment. Il ne voyait pas souvent ses amis à cause de sa relation. Sora était très présente même dans ses relations amicales. Si Wooyoung avait prévu des sorties ou toute autre chose avec ses amis. Sora essayait systématiquement de s'inviter voulant être continuellement avec le garçon. Donc, le garçon n'avait finalement pas beaucoup de répit…

----------------------------

Sora était une jeune femme ayant besoin de beaucoup d'attention. Sa famille n‘ayant jamais vraiment été présente pour elle durant son enfance, elle avait ce besoin constamment d'attention. Sa famille n'avait pas été tendre avec elle. Ses résultats scolaires étaient dans la moyenne. Elle était une jeune fille assez simple et discrète. Mais tout cela n'était pas suffisant pour ses parents. Ils voulaient toujours plus, la comparant constamment à sa sœur ainée. Donc, quand elle fit la rencontre de Wooyoung elle recherchait constamment son affection.

Le jeune couple s'était rencontré grâce à une connaissance commune « Choi San » élève dans la même classe de la jeune femme. Elle était devenue rapidement une bonne amie du garçon. Malgré ses bonnes notes elle avait voulu faire bonne figure auprès de sa famille en prenant des cours supplémentaires montrant sa détermination. Mais en vain ses efforts n'avaient pas marché. San lui, toujours disponible pour rendre service, avait bien entendu accepter la requête de Sora. Il l'avait trouvé mignonne et attachante. Il trouvait sa fascinant la détermination que Sora faisait preuve vis-à-vis de sa famille.

San quant à lui, connaissait Wooyoung depuis plus longtemps suivant les mêmes cours de danse et chant. Les garçons n'avaient pas de différence d'âge étant de la même année. C'est ce qui d'ailleurs les avait rapprochés. Mais ce qui déclencha la rencontre entre Sora et Wooyoung étaient l'intervention de San. Il avait invité ses deux amis à le rejoindre dans un restaurant en compagnie d'autres amis à eux et d'une bonne amie de Sora.

La soirée s'était merveilleusement bien passée. Sora était littéralement tombée sous le charme de Wooyoung. Et cela avait l'air réciproque du côté du garçon. San lui n'avait pas vraiment remarqué préférant rigoler et boire des verres avec ses amis et de sympathiser avec l'amie de Sora. Mais il remarqua qu'il s'était passé quelque chose quand Sora décida de rentrer chez elle et que Wooyoung décida de la raccompagner. Ne voulant laisser la jeune femme seule. Il sourit en les voyant partir tous les deux, il se disait qu'a ce moment la, les deux amis allaient finir par se revoir.

Quelques jours étaient passés depuis que le garçon avait raccompagné Sora chez elle. Pendant ces quelques jours ils s'étaient doucement rapprochés passant tout leur temps scotché à leur téléphone. Sora avait donc fait le premier pas invitant le garçon à sortir, mais Wooyoung avait poliment refusé voulant sortir boire quelques verres avec des amis.

Elle comprenait que le garçon avait besoin de souffler, mais elle ne faisait que ruminer. Sora fut vexée, elle s'imaginait tous les scénarios au possible. C'était –il moquait elle ? Est-ce que finalement il s'était déjà lassé d'elle ? Toutes ces pensées ne quittaient la tête de la jeune femme. Malgré ses doute elle revue Wooyoung quelques jours plus tard et tous ses doutes se dissipa avec les mots rassurant d'Wooyoung, et leur relation débuta officiellement.

-------------------

Cela faisait maintenant un an que le couple partageait la vie de chacun, l'amour fou régnait. Wooyoung était un petit ami parfait, attentionné protecteur. Mais malgré ses mots, il n'arrivait jamais vraiment à rassurer Sora. Elle était toujours inquiète, ses doutes remplissaient sa tête constamment. La jeune femme doutait constamment, d'elle, de lui…Et tout cela commençait à lasser Wooyoung. Le garçon prenait doucement ses distances même s'il savait au fond de lui que ce n'était pas la meilleure des solutions. Mais il n'en pouvait plus, il avait besoin de respirer de vivre aussi pour lui. Faire quelques choses seul, pouvait recentrer ses pensées. Sortir avec ses amis sans avoir sa petite amie présente à chacune de ses sorties.

Il avait Sora constamment sur le dos et il n'en pouvait plus. S'en était trop pour lui, il se sentait prisonnier comme un oiseau en cage. Il avait besoin de retrouver ses libertés de pouvoir penser et agir pour lui. Après avoir pris quelques jours pour lui sans Sora dans les parages, Wooyoung avait décidé de passer la journée avec sa petite amie. Même s'il savait très bien que la jeune femme allait être énervée concernant ses jours passé sans elle. Mais il ne s'attendait pas une situation pareille.

La journée avait très bien commencée, Wooyoung avait passé la nuit chez la jeune femme, tout se passait pour le mieux Sora, n'avait pas remis le sujet sur la table et était très agréable. Le lendemain matin pour le plus grand bonheur d'Wooyoung Sora n'avait pas été autant collante qu'à son habitude. Elle avait préparé un petit déjeuner pour eux deux comme à son habitude. Ils avaient même décidé de passer la journée ensemble. Ils décidèrent d'aller en ville ayant quelques achats à faire et ensuite de prendre la voiture pour aller en dehors de la ville profitée du calme.

Mais c'est au moment d'arriver en ville que le comportement de Sora changea du tout au tout. Sora collait encore une fois Wooyoung, elle s'accrochait à son bras tout en dévisagent les jeunes femmes qui osaient poser un regard sur son petit ami. Tout en continuant son monologue expliquant les futurs projets du couple. Wooyoung en avait marre, il saturait, il n'en pouvait plus de ce comportement égoïste et de cette jalousie maladive..

 -Stop !

-Qu'est-ce qu'il y a ?

-J'en peux plus Sora c'est trop.

Elle fut surprise aux mots d'Wooyoung, et de la tournure que prenait cette journée. Elle était surprise, mais elle savait pertinemment pourquoi Wooyoung s'énervait. Il s'approcha de Sora le visage fermé et désolé. Il posa ses deux mains de part et d'autres de ses épaules. Avant de souffler ses trois mots «Je suis désolé » à l'entente de ses mots une larme dévala le long de la joue de Sora, elle ne comprenait pas vraiment, mais en même temps elle s'en doutait.

C'était la conséquence de son comportement depuis quelques mois, mais elle fut encore plus surprise quand Wooyoung lâcha ses épaules et fit demi-tour le visage baissé. Elle ne pouvait y croire, il n'allait pas la laisser là, seule. Il ne pouvait pas.

Elle s'empressa de rattraper le garçon par le bras, mais Wooyoung dégagea celui-ci violemment. Mais Sora se raccrocha une nouvelle fois le redressant face à elle. Elle ne pouvait se résigner à laisser la situation tel quelle, elle ne pouvait accepter aussi facilement. Des larmes dévalèrent sur leurs joues à tous les deux, mais Wooyoung était décidé il n'en pouvait plus.

Sora s'accrocha à présent à ses deux bras fermement, mais il se détacha une nouvelle fois. Elle s'accrocha donc à la chemise du garçon tant bien que mal. Mais Sora compris que le garçon était décidé et ne comptait pas revenir en arrière. Son regard était triste, mais rempli de colère. Sora compris que quoi qu'elle fasse elle avait perdu. Le garçon ne voulait plus se battre pour eux.

Elle lâcha et desserra sa prise sur la chemise d'Wooyoung et des sanglots s'échappèrent. Il pleurait lui aussi voyant Sora dans cet état mais il ne devait pas faiblir il ne pouvait subir encore tout cela c'était toxique.

Il se rappelait la promesse qu'il avait faite à Sora, mais il ne pouvait encaisser plus. Il sera surement traité de lâche, mais s'en était trop pour lui. Il avait failli à sa tâche en l'abandonnant comme il s'apprêtait à le faire sans lui donner de raison valable. Même si Sora savait très bien pourquoi le garçon décidait d'abandonner.

Wooyoung se recula de Sora avant de s'excuser une dernière fois, en chuchotant qu'il avait failli à sa promesse, la protéger. Il tourna le dos à Sora avant de rejoindre sa voiture les larmes dévalant sur ses joues. Assis derrière le volant il démarra la voiture et quitta l'endroit. Sora regarda la voiture s'éloigner au fur et à mesure. Wooyoung s'arrêta un peu plus loin avant de se garer les larmes devant sur les joues tout en frappant le volant.

---------------------

Depuis leur séparation, Sora était anéantie. Elle ne sortait plus ou alors très rarement. San venait souvent la voir essayant de la faire sortir prendre l'air mais en vain. Rien n'y faisait, elle ne voulait plus mettre un pied dehors. Elle ne voulait plus faire face au monde. Elle ne voulait pas d'étalage d'amour devant elle, sachant que son amour à elle s'était envolé dans un nuage de fumée.

Wooyoung lui de son côté pensé être libéré, mais c'était tout le contraire, un poids s'était posé sur son cœur. Il ne supportait plus de ne plus sentir la présence de Sora à ses côtés. Il s'était dit qu'il avait eu raison de prendre cette décision, qu'il avait eu raison de s'éloigner d'elle, mais il ne pouvait nier qu'il l'aimait à mourir. Sa façon mignonne de faire les choses, sa démarche, sa façon de mordiller ses lèvres.

Tout lui manquait. Mais il s'était raisonné, il avait fait le bon choix, qu'avec le temps tout cela sera terminé et ils pourront tous les deux tourner la page et recommencer une vie meilleure que celle qu'ils partageaient ensemble.

Cela faisait un mois, un mois maintenant que Sora dépérissait. Sa joie de vivre avait disparu. Son corps maigrissait a vu d'œil. Des cernes énormes creusaient ses yeux. Sora avait à plusieurs reprises essayé de reprendre contact en vain avec Wooyoung, mais ce fut un échec.

----------------

Pourquoi j'ai fait cela, est-ce qu'elle va bien ? Mange-t-elle à sa faim ? Est-ce qu'elle gère toujours aussi mal le stress. Imbécile comment pourrait-elle allez bien, c'est impossible. J'ai fait le bon choix au fond de moi je le sais, nous allons pouvoir refaire notre vie, je sais que plus tard elle me remerciera, sa peur de l'abandon, son besoin constant d'affection se sera estompé.

Elle deviendra une femme meilleure pour un homme bien meilleur que moi. Je suis une personne égoïste et je le sais très bien, j'avais besoin d'espace, mais en même temps j'avais besoin de sa présence à mes côtés. Je ne sais même pas ce que je veux, la voulais-je à mes côtés la serrant dans mes bras, ou la voulais-je libre dans les bras d'un autre ?

J'étais épuisée de l'attendre, je me noyais dans des espoirs sans fondement, quand j'entendais du bruit derrière la porte, j'espérais qu'une chose. Que ce soit lui… Qu'il rentrait dans un boucan pas possible comme il en avait l'habitude. Ce n'était que mes pauvres voisins. Je devenais parano, la moindre chose me faisait espérer, je me repassais dans la tête toutes les sorties que nous avions pu faire. Les nuits passées ensemble… Ses moments où nous étions emmitoufler dans un plaid à regarder tout et n'importe quoi à la télé. Mais tout ça était fini, maintenant s'était moi seule sur ce canapé qui me parait démesurément grand. Les pensées les plus sombres me traversant l'esprit.

-----------------

Wooyoung avait longuement réfléchi à ce qu'il s'apprêtait à faire. Mais il ne pouvait plus, il ne pouvait se passer de la présence de Sora. De pouvoir la prendre dans ses bras, l'embrasser amoureusement, tout en s'excusant. Il voulait la sentir près de lui, sentir son parfum dans ses cheveux. Tout lui manquait. Il devait contacter Sora, pour s'expliquer avec elle.

Les mains tremblantes il prit son téléphone et envoya un sms à Sora. L'informant que demain il viendrait la voir pour lui parler. Le stress monta en appuyant sur le bouton envoyer. Comment allait –elle réagir ? Allait-elle revenir vers lui ou au contraire l'envoyer balader. Il attendait patiemment une réponse qui ne venait pas, mais il ne perdit pas espoir et pris ce silence pour un éventuel oui.

Le lendemain matin, Wooyoung était plus que stresser à l'idée de revoir Sora, Il s'était habillé convenablement, Il prit la route en direction de chez Sora, une boule au ventre et un frisson lui parcourant l'échine.

Mais il ne fit pas abstraction et pris la direction de l'appartement. Une fois garé, il entra dans l'immeuble, plus les marches défilèrent devant lui plus la boule d'anxiété grossissait. Arriver devant la porte, il ferma les yeux un instant souffla et frappa deux coups à la porte.

Au bout de quelques minutes sans réponse, il ouvrit la porte sans vraiment savoir pourquoi et fut surpris de voir que celle-ci était ouverte. Il trouva cela étrange, Sora fermait toujours sa porte d'entrée. Il entra dans l'appartement plongé dans le noir, il faisait attention où il mettait les pieds les pièces n'étant éclairées que par le soleil qui essayait de percer à travers les volets partiellement ouverts.

Les larmes menaçant de couler surement un trop plein d'émotion, il vit de la lumière dans la salle de bain, il se dirigea donc vers celle-ci pensant la jeune femme dans la pièce. Il poussa la porte et un cri d'horreur sorti de sa bouche, les larmes qui menaçaient de couler un peu plus dévalèrent sur ses joues. La vue qui s'offrait à lui était insoutenable. 

Sora gisait inconsciente allonger dans la baignoire le bras relever laissant apparaitre des scarifications fraiche. Une lame de rasoir et une lettre posée sur le rebord du lavabo dans une légère mare de sang. Wooyoung se précipita vers Sora vérifiant si elle respire. Mais il était déjà trop tard, son cœur s'était arrêté depuis un moment maintenant. Son corps était froid et ses yeux fermés, son visage marqué par la douleur on pouvait y décerner des larmes sécher et des traces de sang, surement quand elle voulu essuyer ses larmes qui n'en finissaient pas.

Wooyoung pleurait à chaude larme tenant la main de Sora dans la sienne, il s'en fichait d'être recouvert de sang, il voulait juste sentir le contact de sa peau contre la sienne malgré que la jeune femme fut froide. Wooyoung hurlait de douleur, il s'en voulait tout cela était de sa faute. Tout était de sa faute si la jeune femme s'était ôtée la vie. Il avait été égoïste et cela avait coûtée la vie à sa bien aimée. Il se releva appelant les secours ainsi que son meilleur ami. Et il vit la lettre posée sur le rebord du lavabo. L'appel terminé il prit la lettre dans ses mains et commença à la lire.

« Wooyoung, mon cher Wooyoung,

Si tu trouves cette lettre c'est que je suis à présent en paix, je sais que c'est toi qui me trouveras ainsi que cette lettre et j'en suis heureuse mais triste à la fois. Comment vas-tu réagir en me voyant ainsi ?

Tu seras blessé il n'y a aucun doute, mais s'il te plait ne te sens pas coupable, ce n'est pas toi qui as causé ma mort. Non toi tu étais mon sauveur, ma bouée de sauvetage… Tu m'as rendu heureuse et je me suis sentie aimée c'est bien pour cela que je peux partir heureuse et sereine. Tu le savais que j'avais des troubles du comportement, que j'avais un besoin continuelle d'attention et que j'étouffais. Tu as tant de fois essayé de me le faire comprendre. J'ai eu beaucoup de mal à l'accepter, mais maintenant j'ai compris. J'ai compris tes réactions et ton comportement. Et je ne t'en veux plus. J'ai réussi à ouvrir les yeux, mais il était malheureusement trop tard. Mon esprit était déjà parti.

Je ne t'en voudrais jamais Wooyoung, car après tout, tu as été toutes mes premières fois. Mon premier amour et tu resteras le dernier. Je n'ai jamais cessé de t'aimer, certes de la mauvaise façon. J'ai toujours pensée que tu reviendrais vers moi, quand je sentais ton odeur sur les draps j'espérais que tu me reviendrais, j'avais raison, mais cette fois il était trop tard. Car j'étais déjà parti.

Je vais m'arrêter la car je pourrais t'écrire tellement de choses, Wooyoung je veux seulement que tu saches que ce n'est pas de ta faute, j'ai fait ce choix égoïste, car c'est ce qui me convenait le plus. Tu m'as aidé à y voir plus clair et je ne te remercierais jamais assez.

Tu as été mon premier amour et tu le resteras Jung Wooyoung. Je t'aime et je t'aimerai toujours.

Ta bien aimée Sora. »

Wooyoung s'effondra au sol tenant fermement la lettre contre sa poitrine, s'était de sa faute il avait détruit la jeune femme. Il ne ce pardonnerait jamais. Il se fit la promesse qu'il ne refera plus les mêmes erreurs et que Sora restera toujours dans ses pensées.

Il avait détruit la femme de sa vie sans le vouloir par pur égoïsme le seul châtiment qui lui restait était d'attendre son tour pour rejoindre les portes de l'enfer, car il le savait très bien même après la mort, ils ne pourront être réunis, pas après ce qu'il lui avait fait.

Elle était au paradis et lui brûlerait dans les abîmes de l'enfer.

[findroleplay]

🌸hey! a.here she/her 18+ minors will likely be blocked if you interact.

I will start out by saying I am strictly looking for a MxF rp where I could play the female role. I am okay with fandom and fandomless. the main fandoms I am interested in are demon slayer, Naruto, and the last of us. (oc x oc is preferred, I would be lenient on my oc x canon, but cc x cc is okay as well, I'm just picky) I have ocs for all three of those fandoms, though I am in other fandoms. as for literacy, I am semi literate to literate, anywhere between 2-7 paragraphs, but it can vary depending on the details in the plot and replies.

as for genre, i love some angst and drama, a bit of gore is perfectly fine as well, nsfw is welcomed but I would like to have more plot than smut. my triggers are the basic stuff like beastiality, incest, pedophilia, etc, but we can discuss more about our limits in DMs.

shows/animes

The last of us; I prefer oc x oc, or oc x Joel miller

Naruto; oc x oc, oc x cc, Hinata x naruto, Shikamaru x temari

Demon Slayer: oc x oc, oc x cc, mitsuri x obanai, shinobu x giyuu.

Tokyo ghoul: I would love to do an oc x oc for Tokyo ghoul!

K-pop

BTS, ateez, ikon, txt, seventeen, got7, shinee, monsta x, stray kids, nct, dpr live, dpr Ian, sik-k, Dean. with kpop we can either do oc x idol, or idol x idol.

kdramas

descendants of the sun, the K2, weightlifting fairy, strong woman do bong soon, romance is a bonus book, just between lovers, cheese in the trap, he is psychometric.

Movies;

pitch perfect

Twilight saga

The breakfast club

10 things I hate about you

The edge of seventeen (best friends brother AU)

To all the boys I've loved before

the craft

Dazed and confused

Jurassic world

This will be on discord! Like this and I'll reach out to you.🌸

-

[flurrys-creativity]

Super Fox

Pairing: Donghyuk (iKon) x GN!Reader; Genre: Hybrid AU, Shifter AU, Fluff, hints of angst; Rating: sfw, PG-15; Warnings: hints of danger towards hybrids within a human society; Wordcount: 433

Summary: Living in a society where you have to hide your animal traits, it is a relief to drive out into nature and simply be yourself together with the one you love.

A/N: The second cocktail I wrote for the tipsy drabbles this time! Also pleasing my current iKon obsession with this!! Please enjoy this!

Donghyuk tapped the steering wheel, humming along to the radio as he stared through the windshield screen.

Once a month he grabbed you and drove with you away from the bustling city. Even if it was just for one day - sometimes even just an afternoon - both of you needed that time to come back to your roots.

Roots that weren’t quite usual in the human world. 

You tilted your head to the side and watched Donghyuk with a soft smile on your lips. His fox ears already popped out without him noticing it. They flicked in excitement the closer you got to the forest. You reached a hand over to them, brushing over the velvety fur of his ears.

Donghyuk laughed quietly and glanced over to your side. “Fox’s out of the bag, huh?” His ears flicked again underneath your touch. 

You giggled and slightly turned on your seat, revealing your own fox tail. “Guess so.”

Donghyuk reached over to you, gently squeezing your thighs. “We’ll be there soon.” He intertwined fingers with yours, grinning when you started to play with them.

“I know”, you mumbled as you continued to caress his hand, “I just can’t wait to turn fully again.” You looked up at him, seeing him nod along.

In the city neither of you could just turn or even reveal parts of your foxes without fearing to become objects for science. Even at your shared apartment you rarely let parts of your foxes show - too concerned someone could see anything through the windows.

But outside in the mountains or forests, far away from major human gathering spots, you could be free. 

Donghyuk parked the car at the start point of a hiking trail. He rushed around the vehicle and opened your door, making an overly inviting gesture.

You giggled and stepped out of the car as well, stretching your limps and letting your tail sway behind you. “Are you ready?” You looked around the area one last time, making sure no human was already there in the early hours of the day.

With a sly grin Donghyuk stepped closer to you and cupped your face. He kissed you softly, making you melt into him. “Let us race to the top”, he whispered against your lips, “loser has to buy fried chicken tonight.”

Before you could even respond to him, he had already transformed into a fox. He yipped at you and then dashed into the forest, leaving you behind. You giggled and shook your head in amusement. With one last roll of your shoulders you transformed yourself and chased after him.

© all rights reserved

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland​