yvesrfm

[yvesrfm]

𐙚˙✧˖° 🫧 The Look of Love ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

#5 /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

husband!park jongseong x reader established relationship domestic FLUFF

your husband was always away for work, but during the days he would be, it would be spent enjoying your favorite tunes, cooking meals, and your favorite activity of all, cleaning.

original by yvesrfm . . . all rights reserved. do not repost anywhere without consent. ♡🌷

"Hun? Where's the floor cleaner?" Your husband called out from the bathroom as you chewed on your french toast. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you relished at the mental image of Jongseong hunched under the bathroom sink, looking for the household's adored blue liquid, to no avail. You popped the rest of the toast in your mouth, pushing back the wooden chair you were seated on with as you stood up from the comfortable plush of the cushioned seat.

"It's already out here," You replied, words slightly muffled as you chewed on the sweet bread, a delectable combination of crunchy and chewy underneath your teeth. You placed your dishes in the sink, the clinking of glass mixing with bird song as you started to wash the dishes. A set of footsteps echoed down the hall as Jongseong appeared from the corner, an amused smile on his face. "Should've guessed," He chuckled, leaning down to check the cupboards under the kitchen sink, grabbing the bottle as soon as he spots it among the other bottles of cleaning materials in the cramped space. From there he rose, his left hand holding the priced cleaning solution. His right, gently snaking itself around your waist, warm against the cold fabric of your pyjamas. You giggled at the feeling, your skin growing ticklish as his hand ran along your skin. "Good morning, baby," He says dearly, kissing your cheek as you scrubbed a glass cup with a soap lathered sponge. A grin creeps up your lips and you flick his nose cheekily, leaving a blob of foam on the tip. He huffed, immediately pulling back to flick the soap away. "Good morning to you too," You greeted, rinsing the dishes carefully, placing them one by one on the drying rack beside the sink. Soon enough, your morning had transformed into the ever-familiar energetic bursts of cleaning. Jay had once again, taken control of the music, blasting a variety of tunes. Slow, melodramatic ones started lipsync battles with both of you tossing suds into the air to create 'snow'. Brooms and mops were never safe when the rock music came in, often flung around or used as a pretend guitar. Pop songs resulted in horrible dance battles with you often needing the time to catch your breath from all the laughter that made your stomach cramp.

Cleaning was tiring. Dreadful on some days.

But with Jay, who was often away for work, it was never dull. No matter how many scrubbing, spraying, mopping, dusting, sweeping, and washing had to be done between the two of you throughout the weekend, doing it together kept your batteries up. As if both of your souls were seemingly on Bluetooth Mode. Connected. Energized. Pouring into each other so that not one grows weary. Pouring into each other not because they aren't individually exhausted from the demands of their own work lives, but doing so because being together made them feel whole. But because they loved enough to automatically know that sometimes, simply being with each other was enough to forget about whatever stress came from the week prior. When the used mops and cleaning cloths were finally tucked away in a cabinet in some far corner of the apartment, and when the floors glistened like a love strengthened and renewed every weekend, you and Jay finally nestled in each other's arms on the couch, watching a sappy rom-com you have probably seen a million times, half eaten steak on the coffee table infront of you, sharing a glass of wine, you told yourself— You wouldn't get sick of it no matter how many weekends like this you'll live through for the rest of your life knowing Park Jongseong would always be the one to clean with you, sing to you, and cook for you. Never in a million years would you get tired of the thought.

[yvesrfm]

guys, someone give me suggestions on what to write about !! i am accepting requests. inbox, comments, dms are OPEN i am begging for ideas🙏 any enhypen member and STRICTLY no smut.

[yvesrfm]

𐙚˙✧˖° ☕ Like A Shot of Espresso ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

#4 /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

cafe coworker!nishimura riki x cafe coworker!reader FLUFF and slight angst

you work part time at a cafe in town to keep your university fees afloat, and you can't ignore the tension between you and your coworker any longer.

original by yvesrfm . . . all rights reserved. do not repost anywhere without consent. ♡🌷

It all started one rainy day. You had completed all your classes earlier that morning, finally clocking into the familiar warmth of the cafe you worked at for the afternoon. The smell of coffee wafted in the air, the soft hum of the coffee machine like a lullaby. One bluetooth earphone tucked in your ear, your favorite tune playing lowly as you maneuvered behind the counter. Handing the customer their receipt with a polite smile as you stuck the order onto the metal lining of the rack to your left. Your coworker, Nishimura Riki, with one brief glance, slipped behind you to start making the order. Precisely mixing drinks brought about by months of working at the cafe.

You turned around to face him, a small amused smile on your face as you watched. The sleeves of his white button up shirt rolled up to his elbows, the brown work-issued apron tied around his waist, a loose strand of his bleached silver hair hung astray. As if sensing your watchful gaze, he speaks, without turning to look at you,

"Have you eaten?" He asked, voice deep and eerily cool as usual. Your eyes widened a bit, surprised he would ask.

"No," You answered, back against the smooth marble of the countertop. He finally turned, subtly gesturing toward a customer behind you, which you were not aware had stopped infront of the counter and whose eyes silently skimmed the menu on the other side. You only huffed, finding his calmness funny. With a turn, you took the customer's order while he called out the previous customer's name, drink in hand.

"Here's your receipt, your name will be called once it's ready," You said politely, smiling at the customer as he scurried away to an empty table. Riki walked up beside you, glancing at the order with a nod.

"You should eat," He continued, hand on his hip as he heats a cup of milk. "I have an extra sandwitch out back," He said again. This time, looking at you straight in the eyes as he spoke.

You looked at him dumbfoundedly. Slightly stunned.

"Is that alright?" You finally asked with a blink, unsure if it was alright for you to accept his offer. You two had been working together for 2 months now, and although it was nothing horrible to work with him, you weren't exactly close. You talked about the cafe and university, but nothing much outside of that, and you were more or less convinced you did not have a lot in common with the boy. He once mentioned doing dance and the way he pursued the art for his college degree, and all the dancing you did was within the confines of your studio apartment. Was that worth bringing up? You had answered your own question with an immediate no.

He nodded, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

"I wouldn't have said if it wasn't," He quips as he pressed down at coffee grinds, causing you to chuckle. You say nothing, slipping into the breakroom with one last glance.

There, on the flimsy table sat in the corner of the bleak staff room, you saw a sandwitch neatly placed inside a plastic ziplock pouch labeled '(Y/n)'. The capitalized letters in black marker, bold and thick, ran through twice. You stared at it, a mix of emotions swirling at the pit of your stomach.

Confusion? Endearment? Surprise? Or maybe you were just hungry. You couldn't quite place it.

You grabbed it, turning it to the side to observe what kind of sanwitch it was. It had a slice of cheese peeking out on one side. Lettuce. Ham. The usual.

But there was something about that sandwitch that gave you a hint of what was to come. And when you ate that sandwitch behind the counter, intently observing the boy who rushed around to serve customers, who since the sandwitch offering, did not spare you any more glances, you thought about how you hated ham. The thin, artificial tasting, smooth surfaced, pink tinted thing, alien to your tastebuds as it had rejected it numerous times before. But even so, you ate until every last remnant of ham disappeared along with all the wheat bread and kewpie mayonnaise it came with.

Because this sandwitch was intentional. And you knew it was. Riki made this sandwitch, and something about you made him scribble your name on the ziplock pouch with such emphasis it couldn't just be a meaningless gift.

The days that followed proved it to be true.

Riki offering to cover for your shift when you would complain about how tight schedules got for midterms. Riki always bringing you some form of food because he had observed how you didn't get to eat lunch for your shift at the cafe. All the little things he did for you brought you closer, and soon enough, your conversations shifted from casual university updates and how-to-use-the-coffee-machine tutorials, to deeper more significant things.

One of which, included a very shy invite to his university to watch him and his group compete for a dance competition.

You couldn't say no.

When you walked into that unfamiliar campus, you looked around. A large elevated stage sat in the middle of open grounds, towering speakers standing tall on each side as luminaires in various colors shot beams of light that darted alternately from the stage to the crowd in swift bursts. You approached the groups of people standing on the field, talking amongst themselves excitedly. You stood there awkwardly, shifting on the balls of your feet. Not really knowing anyone else aside from Riki in this university. Your palms started to sweat as your fingers tightened their grip around the bouquet of black roses you had bought for him. You tried to shrug off the nervousness weighing down on your muscles as you looked around, hoping to see Riki, but at the same time, hoping not to.

You weren't sure if the bouquet was too much. You wanted to get Riki something too. To thank him for all the times he had gotten something for you, but also as an advanced congratulations for the competition. You fought back the evil gremlin whispering in your ear telling you the flowers was a corny idea, but soon enough, it didn't get too hard to drown it out as the speakers started to blast Hip-Hop songs. The boosted bass defeated any possible demon bullying you in your head.

Soon, the hosts of the event made their introductions, cheerfully parading themselves in the middle of the stage, reading their scripts with such a forced joy. But that didn't matter. You weren't there for them.

'I'm here, Riki. Which performance number are you guys?' You typed into your phone with a single thumb as you chewed on your lips. A terrible habit, you knew. But was it calming? No doubt.

'Yay. We're the last group.' He replied a few seconds later.

'Okay good luck' I typed back with a small smile.

With that, you watched through the other four performances, nodding your head to the music as people danced, aiming to take the first place. Even if you weren't the one competing, you felt anxious for Riki and his team. And when they were finally called on stage, you held your breath. Was it the exhilarating support you had for him, or the shock that came with seeing him in such a different light? Maybe it was both that made your heart stop in that moment. In the cafe, his personal style was always watered down with the same neat outfits and itchy brown aprons, but there he was, in baggy pants and a black tank top, grey hoodie zipped open, teasing skin.

He almost looked luminescent under the stage lights. His silver hair and pearly skin glistening under the harsh glares of the fixtures, and with each precise movement of his body, his hoodie would flick astray hypnotizingly as if it were part of the choreography too, revealing more than you've seen before. It was obvious it was not just you who found him strikingly charming on that stage, as cheers from the crowd ferociously ripped through the cold night air, echoing into your ear. A reminder of your utter patheticness in this moment.

It never occurred to you that this was how people regularly saw Nishimura Riki. They saw him as an idol. An image of talent. Not a collected boy who was too good at using the coffee machine. Not someone who hated seeing the pastries unorganized in the glass case by the cafe counter. And that normalcy you had rendered him in started to feel strange. Suddenly, you felt stupid holding that bouquet of roses because you were sure there were other girls out there waiting to give him better gifts. Other girls who he had much more things in common with. Other girls who were in a league not so far off from his.

So when the drum roll played, and the air tensed for a split second, you thought right after the awarding ceremony, you'd leave and send Riki a lame excuse for not being able to meet after the show. Throw out the flowers or keep it in your apartment for yourself as a wilting reminder of your weakness.

The crowd cheered. Riki and his team rejoiced on stage, the lights all pointed toward them as they embraced, proudly clinging onto the giant glistening trophy as a stream of confetti cascaded from above. The hosts moved onto their closing remarks, going through a short photo opportunity with the winners. Riki in the middle, beaming.

This was his world. And you were just, well, you. You never found that to be discouraging before.

As the crowd dispersed, your mind and heart seemed to be at war. The other wanted to leave. Afraid to be embarrassed by the chance of feeling less than correct that the numerous favors Riki had done for you was a sign of his romantic affection. The other willing to stay. Logically arguing that whether it be romantic or not, it was not decent to pack up and leave just because you suddenly felt less.

You felt a hum in your pocket. A message from Riki.

'Hey, are you still here?'

You blinked at his message, thumb roaming above the screen.

Before you could type a single letter, another message popped up.

'Come to our tent behind the stage. First on the left' It read.

You bit your lip, legs numb as you started to venture behind the stage. Immediately spotting the tent Riki mentioned. A few people gathered around it, talking happily, packing up to leave. As you approached it, some people spared you curious glances, unfamiliar with your face yet unbothered to ask for your purpose as you shyly excused yourself through them, flowers in hand. You pushed through the curtains, peeking inside with a croak.

"Riki?" You called out, eyes squinting past stacks of makeup and hair products in thick black suitcases, a tall rack of clothes, and the shiny golden trophy from earlier, which you realized was much bigger in person.

"(Y/n)?" A familiar voice replied. Amongst the disarray of items, Riki popped out. Still in his black tank top from earlier, this time, without the grey hoodie to cover his toned arms. He had a damp tissue stuck to his forehead, a small towel in hand as he wiped off the sweat from his biceps. You questioned whether it was okay for you to be seeing him like this, your eyes immediately shifting away flusteredly.

"I can..uh- come back later,"

"Yeah that's a good idea, I'm still stinky," He chuckled. You spared him an awkward smile as you removed your head from the curtain to stand by the entrance nervously. Both hands holding onto the bouquet of black roses like a stress toy.

"Congratulations, by the way," You spoke in a slightly raised voice, hoping he would hear you through the tent fabric so that you don't look insane to the people walking by, breaking a cold sweat talking to yourself.

"Thanks," He said coolly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"You guys did great," You added, taking a deep breath. "I almost didn't recognize you," You laughed, shifting on your feet as you recalled the fierce look on Riki's face on the stage earlier, greatly contrasting the neutral, slightly sassy, always amused, sometimes kind, expressions of his at work.

A brief silence followed, then suddenly the tent entrance flapped open with a harsh slap in the wind, causing you to slightly jump from the sudden movement.

"Don't worry, I'm still me," He spoke teasingly, emerging from the tent in a new t-shirt, the fabric conditioner so strong your nose caught a whiff first before your eyes could've caught sight of him. He didn't have the damp tissue on his forehead anymore, and the loose strands of his hair were now pushed to the side. He smiled at the sight of you, causing an involuntary smile to play at your lips.

"I have something for you,"

"I got something for you,"

You both said at the same time. Both holding out a bouquet of roses. He stared at the bouquet in your hand, and you stared at the bouquet in his. Roses in your favorite color. He broke out a laugh, causing you to laugh too, and you both took each other's bouquets gratefully.

"I'm the one supposed to get you flowers," He jokingly muttered, admiring the roses you got for him with a smile. Your heart fluttered at the sight, relieved he liked them.

"Well, you're the one who won a competition," You huffed, cradling the bouquet in your arms with a laugh.

"Well, you're the one I'm supposed to be asking out on a date," He suddenly confessed, his tone similar to the times he would throw sarcastic comments at you, glancing at you with a cheeky look.

"...What?" You asked, stunned. Trying to process the words like a question for a quiz you did not study for. Did you hear that right? Was he kidding?

"(Y/n), do you want to go out with me?" He finally asked outright, a hopeful glint in his eyes as he took a step forward, a gentle confidence emanating from the kind look on his face.

And how could you possibly say no to that?

[yvesrfm]

𐙚˙✧˖° ❄️You & Me, Always Forever ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

#3 /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

iceskater boyfriend!park sunghoon x beginner skater!reader FLUFF

you & sunghoon go on an iceskating date together.

original by yvesrfm . . . all rights reserved. do not repost anywhere without consent. ♡🌷

"Hoon, I am going to die," You blurted out in acceptance as you gripped onto the sides of the ice skating rink. Hair stuck to your face from the moment you stumbled into the ice rink upon entrance, thinking it wasn't that hard. Your flawed line of thought being that if Sunghoon got in gracefully, you could go in and do the same, completely forgetting the part where he was a trained skater and you were very much not.

He stupidly laughed beside you, completely calm and upright on the ice, staring at you with a teasing glint in his eyes, hands on his hips as he watched you collect your breaths with an unmistakable amusement.

"If you don't leave the corner you won't get any better," He tutted, shaking his head slightly. He glided towards you, taking your hands off of the barrier. An involuntarily panicked squeak escaping your lips. You immediately started to stumble, amateur attempts at trying to balance on the slippery floor.

"I am going to die," You repeated, a whine in your voice as you dumbly slid toward him. Sunghoon's hands held out infront of you, gloved fingers interlocked, firm yet gentle. The only reason for your acceleration not being the slight mastery of the sport, but Sunghoon's precise movements pulling you forward, leading you to the center of the rink. You stared at your own feet, watching the blades of your skates glide through the ice, leaving behind tiny shavings as you attempted to steady yourself, bottom half already slightly aching at the unfamiliar strain ice skating required of your legs.

"You're not gonna," He laughed, his words slightly muffled by the giant blue scarf he insisted on wearing around his neck, covering his mouth. You squinted at him in deadpan, catching a glimpse of his pink cheeks from the cold. "Because I'm here," He tried to say reassuringly in between amused laughs as you tried to stand similar to the other skaters around you. Effortlessly maneuvering past, light as a feather. Knees slightly bent. Chests forward. "How do they make it look so easy," You groaned, holding onto his hands for dear life as you watched everyone in awe.

"Because it is,"

"Okay professional skater," You rolled your eyes sarcastically with a pout. He only chuckled.

"Here, let me teach you," He offered with a smile. His eyes crinkling up over his obnoxiously large scarf. He lifted both your arms up, showing you how to position your feet. You followed suit, causing him to nod with a pleased hum.

"Bend your knees a bit," He gently guided,

"You're getting good at this already," He mused, squeezing your hand encouragingly. You only laughed, feeling the tension slightly shake off your muscles.

"I'm going to let go of you, okay?" He gently spoke, breathing out heavily as his fingers slowly slipped out of yours, Sunghoon moving back cautiously,

"Oh I am so going to die," You started to nervously laugh, feeling the warmth of his fingertips leave your sweaty palms. Your body immediately tensed up again, no longer having any support to keep it upright. You remained still, knees kept bent like he said.

"Just keep your knees bent. Shoulders relaxed, arms out," He reminded, pulling down his scarf to speak to you better as he stood about 3 feet away. An encouraging look on his face. "Now stay like that and try to take small marches toward me. Like this," He demonstrated, taking short steps, feet barely lifting off the ground. His knees and arms like yours to properly display the right form up to par with your beginner level.

You took a deep breath, staring directly ahead of you as you kept your arms up as if they were flat against a table infront of you. Knees still bent like he taught. Slowly, you began to lift your foot off the ground. Then back down again in a small fearful stomp. Doing the same on the other. And the other.

Before you knew it, you started moving forward in a collected pace, a drastic contrast from your erratic attempts earlier.

Sunghoon smiled softly, his portruding fang-like teeth sticking out cutely, applauding kindly as you approached him. He held his hands out, awaiting for yours to finally intertwine back into his. You chuckled, lips pursed as you focused on staying upright.

Eventually, you reached him with an excited squeal. Your hands back in their rightful place clamped against his. Joy coursed through your body, providing a comforting warmth despite the chill found in the December air.

"I did it," You laughed, relieved and proud. He nodded, looking down at you with adoration as he wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you in for a hug.

"Ready for Lesson 2, baby?"

[yvesrfm]

𐙚˙✧˖° 🖇️Let Me Be Your Fool ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

#2 /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

drabbles/scanrios: nishimura riki x bubbly cutesy fem presenting! reader FLUFF

i cannot get that gawdang song out of my head

we love an opposite aesthetic couple

original by yvesrfm . . . all rights reserved. do not repost anywhere without consent. ♡🌷

adores you so so much, to the point where he finds himself staring at you without saying a word, just admiring you.

enjoys seeing the contrast of aesthetics between you. his more hip edgy style focused on dark colours and baggy silhouettes vastly contrasting your soft lacey style more on flowy fabrics, dainty patterns, and florals.

whenever you'd go out on dates, he would always have his digital camera with him to capture even the littlest details of you. the glitter eye makeup you had on? captured. you had a ribbon in your hair? done. had pearl earrings on? obviously. you had a faux orchid on your kitten heels? he's about to take a picture no matter how much you protest.

another endearing thing he would do for you without question during your little outings together is hold your bag or purse no matter how pink, lacey, and glittery. your bag would stand out like a sore thumb hung on his shoulder during shopping sprees or walks in the park, and every time you would say you could carry it as to not ruin his whole vibe, he stubbornly declines, saying you could never ruin anything.

one time, you guys attended a music festival together, your feet aching from constantly standing and walking around in your heels, even if it was the lowest pair you had. with a single complaint, ni-ki switched shoes with you. his huge timberlands comfy against the stinging pads of your feet while he nonchalantly stood barefoot in his socks, enjoying the music. he even tried wearing your heels for a minute. eventually, you felt bad he had to endure the music festival in just his socks, but he didn't care how dumb he looked or how dirty his socks got as long as his girl was comfortable.

we all know how obsessed he is with chrome hearts. this boy does not shy away from sharing his obsessions with you because you're top 1 of them all. would absolutely scour the whole internet and take his time searching physical stores to look for merchandise you would love. anything pink he could find, automatically pulling out his wallet for you.

trust that he will always have something that symbolizes you with him. whether it be a cute cat keychain hanging on his leather bag, or a cutout of your kiss mark he stubbornly insisted you make for him inserted in his phone case. one time you caught him tie one of your ribbons to his belt hoop, a final touch to his outfit.

loves sleepovers with you. especially your makeup or skincare sessions. will patiently hold on to your waist as you smear another product he has no idea about on his face, loving the sensation of your gentle fingers running all over his skin. one time, he insisted you give him a 'glam makeover', which was a full face of makeup like yours. you argued with him the whole time because he could not keep a straight face, causing you to keep messing up the makeup. he just couldn't resist the smile tugging at his lips everytime he saw you so focused trying to do his 'glam makeover'.

he loves music, and it was hard for him not to associate every song with you. throughout your days together, he would blow up your messages, sending links to songs, pestering you to listen and share your thoughts on it. ofcourse, playlists handpicked by himself were no exception. the cover photos? the candid photos he would take of you.

[yvesrfm]

𐙚˙✧˖°📷Frames With You ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

#1 /ᐠ. .ᐟ\ฅ

high school basketball player!jake x campus journalist!reader FLUFF

original by yvesrfm . . . all rights reserved. do not repost anywhere without consent. ♡🌷

reader is lowkey highkey me when i start liking a boy famous among women irl.

"Why am I lowkey sick of seeing this guy's face," I joked with an amused chuckle, pushing off the heels of my feet to lean back against the office chair, a faint creaking beneath me as my weight shifted. Park Jeongseong, my co-writer at our High School's official publication, peered over my shoulder with a faint smirk. Both of our eyes holding the same reflected image brightly displayed on my laptop screen. It was a picture of a boy mid throw of what was eventually a 3-pointer shot in the Basketball tournaments earlier that day.

"Put some respect on his name," He humorously commented as he moved away from my seat, getting back to his side of the office as he slid across the room with his chair, the aged wheels screeching against the concrete ground as he stupidly waddled away with his legs. I rolled my eyes at his words, clicking through the pictures I managed to take from the sports tournaments the past few days. Majority of which were of the same boy.

Dark, slightly wavy hair.

Tan skin glistening under the humid temperature caged within the school's Gymnasium.

"Didn't think you guys were close," I replied, the same amused tone in my voice as I continued to click through the pictures. Gentle clicks under bored fingertips.

Jay laughed at this.

"Jake's fangirls are going to come for your ass,"

A snort escaped my lips as I absentmindedly browsed Sim Jaeyun's pictures on my laptop. Scrutinizing his features. His hair. His arms. The smile on his lips, yet the fiery look in his eyes when he had the ball in his hands. There was no denying Jake's features. Not only was he sporty, but he had the physical characteristics to match. It was no wonder why he had an immeasurable number of girls trailing him, hoping that the singular glance they exchanged meant something beyond somewhere along the lines of coincidental and platonic.

And I hated him for that.

Not because he was ever mean to me directly, nor did he ever give me a nasty glance. He was the opposite rather, always with a smile plastered on his face as if it was tattooed onto his cheeks. I'd be having the worst day of my life and I'd see that boy a few feet away from me in the cafeteria, smiling like he was held at gunpoint to, and my irritation would just build. What was he so happy about? That question bugged me so much I assumed it was because he thought himself to be perfect.

I mean, he was. But the difference was being humble about it. In my head, the reason why Sim Jake was so smiley all the time was because he was dubbed the King of Basketball at school, he's friends with all the cool kids, is rich, and has plenty of girls willing to kill just to hold his hand for a minute. I was convinced he was an arrogant little tyrant.

I knew I might be crazy for thinking the way I did about that boy, but in the back of my mind, I clearly knew why.

I liked Jake. Though I would never admit it.

It made sense.

Rich Popular Kids don't mesh with Campus Nerds Who Run School Papers. A stupid immature redrict, I know. But the lucky thing about being me, is I'm only immature in my head and arguably much more mature than the boys passing around pictures of half-naked women during a boring lecture, or the girls who'd feed their overconsumerist craze shopping on an app with somewhat proven allegations of child labor. Atleast, I'm redeemable, in a way.

I was also convinced he wasn't my type. Even despite the lingering glances and a sudden bursting feeling in my chest whenever I'd see him. Or how sometimes, I'd conjure up calculated plans to get to talk to him more. Only ever in my head, of course. Everytime it feels like I was finally going through with my plans, I end up feeling like a conniving idiot.

I thought that even if I allowed this little innocent crush to foster, I'd only end up looking as boy-crazy as the thousands of girls chasing after him. I was pretty sure he would never look at me like that, and I'd be the 110th girl he'd cross out of his admirers list. My pride told me I was a lot of things, but definitely not a rejected sore loser.

So every time Jake was brought up in a conversation full of praise and admiration, I had two options. Throw a comment laced with dismissal, or stay silent altogether.

-

I received a notification, I reckoned for the 50th time these past few minutes since our President posted the daily headlines onto our publication's page. I switched off my notifications through the settings bar, and continued to eat. Shoving side dishes into my mouth with a defeated gaze as my co-writers conversed around me. I should be happy that my article for the day was gaining traction, but that was the thing. My article was gaining traction. My article about Jake.

And I feared an underlying connotation could build. As every highlighted headline featuring our High School's King of Basketball, sat in bold letters only in slightly smaller font under it, was my name.

It wasn't a problem before. Writing Sports articles were always within my capabilities, but with every junior excusing themselves unable to take up an article about Sim Jake, and our President commending my work for my 'objective and unbiased evaluation of Sim Jake's skills' — which was just me writing with utter bitterness from my preconceived perspective on the boy — it was noticably only I, who wrote about Jake.

So much for trying not to seem boy-crazy. To everyone and their mom, I probably looked like I could practically drop dead for that boy if he asked me to.

"Earth to (Y/n)," Heeseung called out in elongated enunciations, waving his chopsticks infront of my face with a piece of chicken in between. I snapped out of my worrying and glared at him,

"Can you not wave your chicken in my face,"

"I'm sorry you were just too out of it. What's up?" He quickly apologized with a laugh, popping the chicken in his mouth, muffling his last two words with crunches.

"Nothing," I answered, "Can't you guys do the interview with Jake?"

Jay, sitting to my left, shook his head, "Nah, Won assigned you and you know how he gets when we try to negotiate,"

I groaned.

"C'mon guys..," I begged, hands infront of my face in prayer as I turned to Heeseung, still enjoying his chicken as if it was that little piece of meat he had been friends with for 3 years and not me. I blinked at his cluelessness, offended by his apathy as I stole a piece of chicken from his tray, shoving it into my mouth without a second thought.

"How about you, Sunoo? I'll buy you ice cream if you do. Mint chocolate, your favorite," I bargained, turning to the boy sitting infront of me. A sorry, yet amused look on his face as Heeseung sulked beside me, reaching out to Jay to take a piece of his meal in compensation.

"Nuh-uh, I have the Volleyball tournaments to write about," He pouted, scrunching his nose in apology. Scolding the boys beside me to stop being so rowdy before I poked their eyes out with my chopsticks.

I nodded in understanding, knowing there was nothing more I could do. -

I gently patted my cheeks with the soft plush of my cosmetic puff, matte skin toned patches evening out onto the skin. I gave my reflection one last glance before shutting the compact mirror with one swift motion of the palm. I turned around, tugging my coat jacket down in place, and placing a thick strand of hair over my shoulder. Feeling hot and stuffy in the congested air of the school Gymnasium.

"How do I look Riki?" I asked the tall boy standing infront of me, impatiently adjusting the lens of his camera to achieve the correct focus for the interview. He raised his eyebrows as he lifted his head, getting a good look of my Professional Interviewer outfit. A cheeky grin spread across his face,

"A bit too formal for meeting your boyfriend, don't you think?" He giggled stupidly, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I will literally woop your ass,"

"Not in front of your boyfriend I hope," He countered as he stared behind me, bringing his camera up to his face. I turned around to see Sim Jake approaching us, a kind smile on his face as he waved his teammates goodbye. I felt my stomach flip, and my body immediately went stiff. I awkwardly stood there with a nervous smile on my face as he walked, staring directly at me.

"Hi. This is for the interview, right?" He finally spoke, extending his hand to shake mine. His voice gentle. A hint of a foreign accent hanging on the edge of his words. My throat went dry and it felt as if my heels were glued on the polished wooden floors of the Gymnasium. All I could do was force a smile. I stared at him dumbly for a split second before I extended my hand to shake his. I laughed awkwardly as our palms came into contact, his confident, yet gentle, grip overriding my rigid body language.

"Yes, this is for the Monthly Athlete Feature. We're glad to have you," I spoke with a smile, pleasantly surprised by his friendly tone. No hint of any form of inflated ego in his tonality and body language. I felt myself slightly loosen up, feeling my shoulders relax a bit as I managed a deep breath in. He smiled at my words and gave me a polite head nod, glancing at Riki, whose face was hidden behind his massive camera. Despite this, I could still see the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

I just knew he was having the time of his life.

"Are we rolling?" Jake asked, gesturing to the camera with a chuckle. I let out a laugh.

"Riki, are we rolling?" I called out with a clear of my throat.

He only gave me a thumbs up in reply.

-

I scrambled into my room, exasperatedly flopping onto my bed as I stared at the eggshell ceiling of my room. Heart racing, pounding at speeds I did not think was possible. I had taken long commutes to get home before, so I knew it wasn't the trip home that made my heartbeat spike. I took a deep breath, eyelids fluttering shut. For a second, content to finally sleep the day's events away even if it meant dozing off in my interview outfit from earlier. As if sleeping for a few hours would make everything go away.

My solace, interrupted by the deep buzz of my phone, rested inches away from my fingertips. I irritatedly clawed at it and switched the gadget on, Riki's username popping up on my display screen. That boy really had the talent for pissing me off.

I viewed his message.

It was the link to the interview. Now edited, and published onto the feed of our page.

My eyes immediately went wide as I shot up. Loose strands of my hair sticking out at ferocious angles and sticking onto my face. Blinking at the screen, my eyes scanned Riki's message, immediately catching sight of me and Jake's smiling faces. I clicked onto the link, swiftly getting transferred to the video. I immediately noticed the reactions, now at around 250 after just 20 minutes. Out of instinct, my eyes darted to the lower right corner.

16 comments.

In consideration of my mental stability, I had chosen not to view the comment section yet.

I pressed at the play button and watched myself undergo a repeated cycle of talking to the camera, reading out my flashcards of questions, and talking to Jake, with, in my opinion, a painful smile on my face. I scrunched up at my own voice, but somewhat felt satisfied with my overall performance anyways.

Around the 5 minute mark of the video, interviewer me asked Jake to deliver a final message to his supporters to conclude the interview. He gladly took the microphone from my hands and looked for the words to say, the camera capturing the small way he tilted his head as he formulated the right sentences. The frame zooming in on his features as I go out of frame. Jake's soft voice echoed into my room through speaker phone.

"...Uh- Aside from my fans, friends, and family— Ofcourse, I'd like to thank the Publication for constantly writing about my achievements and progress, and for having me here.."

I gulp.

"Especially, Ms. (Y/n) (L/n) here. My writer."

The camera pans out to show my face. Eyes wide and cheeks slightly pink.

The video ended eventually after.

My heart pounded in my chest loud enough it reverberated into my ears. With shaky fingers, I clicked off the interview and opened the comment section. The drama queen in me expected death threats from Jake's mob of fangirls. Although there were a few distasteful ones, those of which are not as bad as I thought, the most liked comment from a user named JoOyoung13 caught my attention. It read,

'What a cute pair! ㅋㅋㅋ'

My breath caught in my throat and my heart welled with a feeling I could not quite decipher.

How was I supposed to not seem boy-crazy now, when there's physical proof of me aflutter because of the one boy I specifically planned to stay away from?

What must I do, in frames with you?