chuuwey

[chuuwey]

Shadows pt. 3

part 1 part 2

18+ minors dni!!

pairings: toxic! hendery x fem! reader, slight yangyang x reader, best friend! ten x reader

warnings: manipulation, gaslighting, stalking, alcohol

—————————————————————————

The silence in the dance studio was deafening, punctuated only by Yangyang's ragged breaths and the hushed whispers of the other club members.

Just as the club president was about to move on, dismissing Yangyang's outburst, Ten stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension. "Excuse me, but there might be a mistake."

Everyone turned to Ten, surprised.

"Yangyang has been practicing tirelessly for this showcase," Ten continued, his voice calm and steady. "He wouldn't withdraw. And if this application is, as he claims, forged, then it's a serious matter. We need to investigate."

The president hesitated, clearly flustered by the sudden challenge. "Ten, I understand your concern, but the deadline has passed."

"With all due respect," Ten interjected, "if a document is forged, the original deadline is irrelevant. This could be considered sabotage. We need to ensure fairness for all members. I propose we allow Yangyang to audition anyway, and in the meantime, we look into this discrepancy. If it turns out his claim is false, he faces disciplinary action. If it's true, then justice is served."

A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. The idea of a forged document, especially one impacting a performance opportunity, was unsettling. The president, faced with a potential scandal and a growing chorus of support for Ten's proposal, finally relented.

"Alright," she conceded, "Yangyang will be allowed to audition at the end of the scheduled performances. But we will be investigating this thoroughly."

Yangyang, still breathing heavily, nodded, his eyes wide with a mixture of relief and burning gratitude as he looked at Ten. Hendery, meanwhile, had completely dropped his innocent façade. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes, when they briefly met yours.

The auditions proceeded, a mixture of nervous energy and passionate performances. Yangyang, fueled by adrenaline and a desperate need to prove himself, delivered a powerful and emotional solo that left no doubt about his skill. You, despite your anxieties, performed your piece perfectly, your movements sharper, more urgent than usual. Ten, ever graceful, showcased his fluid contemporary style.

And then it was Hendery’s turn. His movements precise and captivating. He was undeniably good, mesmerizing even. He knew it, and you could feel his eyes on you.

The results were announced the next day. All four of you had passed. Yangyang, you, Ten, and Hendery were all selected for the showcase. There was relief in Yangyang’s eyes, and Ten clapped him on the back with a smile.

But the unspoken tension remained. The forgery incident was being "investigated," but you felt like you knew who was responsible. And the knowledge sat cold in your stomach.

Later that day, Hendery approached you as you were leaving the dance studio. He was alone, and the studio was quiet.

"Can we talk, Y/N?" he asked, his voice soft, almost pleading.

You hesitated, your heart hammering against your ribs. You couldn't ignore him. Not yet. You needed to understand.

"Sure," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He led you to a quiet corner, away from the main studio. He looked genuinely distressed, his usual charming confidence replaced by a subtle vulnerability.

"I need you to understand something," he began, his gaze earnest. "What Yangyang said yesterday… it's not true. I didn't forge anything. I wouldn't. And those rumors about him, I swear, I have nothing to do with them."

You studied him, trying to find a flicker of deceit, a crack in his façade. But he was good. Too good.

"Then why would he accuse you?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Hendery sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because he hates me. He's always hated me. He sees me as a threat." He paused, his eyes locking onto yours. "He's in love with you, you know."

The words hit you with a surprise, even though Yangyang had confessed it when he was drunk. Hearing it from Hendery, with such a calm, knowing certainty, made it feel so real.

"He sees me as someone who's coming between you two," Hendery continued, his voice laced with a subtle sadness. "And that's why he's trying to turn you against me. He seems desperate. He's trying to make me look like the bad guy so you'll choose him."

You felt a fresh wave of confusion. Could it be true? Was Yangyang’s intense dislike of Hendery simply rooted in jealousy? You remembered Yangyang’s desperate words, his raw emotions when he’d told you he loved you, how he hated that he did. It fit. The pieces seemed to fall into place, painting Yangyang as the overly possessive, desperate one, and Hendery as the victim of his unrequited affections.

Hendery stepped closer, his hand gently reaching out to cup your cheek. "I care about you. More than you know. I would never do anything to hurt you. Or to hurt anyone, for that matter." His thumb stroked your skin, a soft, comforting gesture. "He's just trying to manipulate you. To make you doubt me."

He looked so genuine, so sincere. His eyes, usually holding a hidden glint, were now filled with a warmth that seemed so real.

You wanted to believe him. The idea that Yangyang, your best friend, was capable of such manipulative behavior, even out of love, was deeply unsettling. And Hendery's calm, rational explanation, contrasted with Yangyang's emotional outburst, made him seem so much more trustworthy.

You pulled back slightly, your gaze flickering to his hand on your cheek, then to his eyes. He was good. So good.

"I... I don't know who to believe," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Hendery’s smile was gentle, understanding. "I know it's hard. But I hope, in time, you'll see the truth." He squeezed your hand softly. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

He walked away then, leaving you standing alone in the quiet studio, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you. Hendery's words had planted a seed of doubt, making you question everything Yangyang had told you.

You were caught between two narratives, two seemingly plausible truths. And the realization was that only one of them could be real.

Later that night, you were in your room, staring at your phone. You scrolled through old pictures and videos of you, Ten, and Yangyang laughing, your smiles genuine. Then, you looked at the recent pictures of yourself and Hendery, his arm around you, his smile always perfectly placed.

You sighed, a heavy weight in your chest. You had always trusted your instincts, but now, they were screaming contradictory messages. One part of you urged caution, whispered warnings of manipulation. Another part, seduced by Hendery's charm and his seemingly heartfelt words, desperately wanted to believe in his innocence.

A text message vibrated on your phone.

Yangyang: Hey. You okay?

You stared at the message, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to tell him everything, to confide in him. But what if Hendery was right? What if Yangyang was just trying to isolate you, to push Hendery out of your life because of his own feelings?

You closed your eyes, you felt so filled with anxiety. The showcase was coming up soon. Weeks of intense practice, of being constantly in close proximity with both Yangyang and Hendery. And with each passing day, you knew, the truth would reveal itself.

——

The dance studio, once a sanctuary for you, now felt like a battlefield. The closer the showcase loomed, the more intense the silent war between Hendery and Yangyang became. You were caught in the middle, your mind a dizzying swirl of conflicting emotions and unsettling doubts.

Hendery’s subtle campaign of manipulation was masterful. After plea for your trust, he intensified his seemingly innocent demeanor. He started leaving you thoughtful gifts: your favorite coffee on your desk before an early class, a new pair of dance socks when yours developed a hole, a perfectly timed playlist of your favorite calming music when you looked stressed. These gestures, small and sweet, chipped away at your lingering suspicions. They spoke of genuine care, a stark contrast to Yangyang's increasingly volatile frustration.

He also worked on Ten. Hendery started seeking Ten out for "advice," discussing choreography with genuine interest, offering to help with Ten's more complex lifts. He'd express "concern" for Yangyang's recent behavior, framing it as protective worry rather than malicious gossip. "I'm just worried about Yangyang, Ten," he'd say with a practiced sigh. "He seems so stressed lately. I hope he's okay." Ten, ever the empathetic one, found himself softening. Hendery was so earnest, so normal. Perhaps Yangyang's accusations stemmed from a place of unaddressed jealousy, rather than a deeper, darker truth.

Yangyang, meanwhile, was unraveling. The dismissal of his forgery claim, the persistent rumors, and now your and Ten's hesitant acceptance of Hendery’s explanations, pushed him to his breaking point. He tried to talk to you, to Ten, to make them see.

"He's playing you!" Yangyang pleaded one afternoon, his voice tight with desperation. "Don't you see how he's isolating me? He's making me look crazy!"

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Yangyang, he just seems genuinely concerned. And those rumors… maybe you were a bit out of hand that night. It's not Hendery's fault if people saw you."

Yangyang stared at you, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you serious? You're actually believing him over me?"

"It's not about believing anyone, Yangyang," you insisted, though your voice lacked conviction. "It's just… it doesn't make sense that he'd go to such lengths for no reason."

"The reason is you!" he yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "He wants you! And he'll do anything to get rid of me!"

His outburst only served to reinforce Hendery's narrative. You flinched, and a shadow of hurt crossed Yangyang's face as he realized he was only pushing you further away.

Ten, witnessing the exchange, stepped in. "Yangyang, calm down. You're not helping."

"Not helping?" Yangyang scoffed, a petty laugh escaping him. "I'm trying to open her eyes, Ten! You're just as blind as she is!"

Despite the fractured trust, the three of you—you, Ten, and Yangyang—remained friends. Your shared history, your bond grown in years of laughter and late-night dance sessions, was too strong to break completely. You still shared meals, studied together, and practiced as a unit. But the easy camaraderie was gone, replaced a sense of unspoken tension. Yangyang often retreated into himself, his usual bubbly energy replaced by a simmering anger, a frustration that was obvious. He still loved you, and the pain of your trusting Hendery, even partially, was a constant ache.

Hendery, observing it all from a calculated distance, smiled inwardly. The wedge was firmly in place. He was now an accepted part of their circle, a charming presence, while Yangyang appeared increasingly erratic and jealous.

The night before the showcase, nerves were at an all-time high. The four of them were doing a final run-through in the studio. Yangyang, still visibly bothered, kept his distance from Hendery. You felt a pang of sadness looking at him—he looked so tired, so guarded.

As everyone practiced a group Hendery subtly nudged Yangyang out of position, making him miss a key transition. It was so minor, so quick, Yangyang stumbled, recovering quickly, but his frustration was there.

"Watch it!" Yangyang snapped, glaring at Hendery.

Hendery simply offered an apologetic smile. "My bad, Yangyang. A little off tonight, I guess."

Ten, seeing the momentary friction, stepped in. "Alright, everyone, let's just focus. One more time from the top."

You watched Hendery as he repositioned himself, saw the quick, glint in his eyes that vanished just as quickly. It seemed as though he was doing this on purpose.

As the music started again, you found your gaze drifting to Yangyang. He was dancing with an almost desperate energy, as if trying to prove his worth through movement alone. Your heart ached for him.

—

The unease from the studio lingered, a subtle discord in the air even after practice ended. That night, an unspoken agreement formed between you, Yangyang, and Ten: you needed a distraction. Xiaojun, a friend of you 3 from dance class, readily agreed to join your gathering at your shared apartment. A few bottles of soju and familiar company seemed like the perfect antidote to the pre-show jitters and tension.

The initial atmosphere was lighter than it had been in weeks. Laughter bubbled up easily as you recounted embarrassing dance mishaps and inside jokes. Yangyang, though still carrying his earlier frustration, seemed to relax a little, his usual playful jabs returning. Ten, as always, was the peacemaker, his gentle humor weaving through the conversations, ensuring no one felt excluded.

Xiaojun, with his warm smile and witty remarks, effortlessly integrated into your dynamic. He and you found yourselves bantering about your shared dance class, teasing each other about missed steps and interpretations of choreography. There was a natural ease between you two, a comfortable energy that stemmed from mutual respect and shared passion.

Hendery arrived later, he carried a bottle of expensive wine, a gesture seemingly aimed at smoothing over any lingering awkwardness from the studio. "Hope I'm not intruding," he said, his tone light. "Just thought I'd join the pre-show celebration."

The atmosphere shifted subtly. Yangyang's jaw tightened a little, while Ten offered a polite but reserved greeting. You found yourself watching Hendery.

As the evening progressed, the soju flowed. You and Xiaojun were discussing a particularly challenging lift you were working on in class. Xiaojun, demonstrating with exaggerated gestures, leaned closer to you, his hand touching your arm. You were both laughing, your heads tilted towards each other as you dissected the move.

From his position on the couch, Hendery watched you, his smile faltering for a moment. A flicker of something raw and possessive crossed his features – a tightening of his eyes, a barely perceptible clench of his jaw. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual charming facade. But you, your senses heightened by the earlier realization in the studio, caught it. It was a brief, unguarded glimpse behind the carefully constructed mask.

He quickly recovered, interjecting into your conversation with a forced chuckle. "Having fun there, you two? Looks like things are getting pretty intense in contemporary class." His tone held a subtle edge, a hint of something that you couldn't quite place.

Xiaojun, oblivious to the situation, grinned. "We're just strategizing, Hendery. You should join us sometime, it's good cross training ."

You, however, felt unease tightening in your stomach. Hendery's reaction, though brief, felt significant.

Later, as the others were engaged in a lively debate about the best k-pop dance breaks, Hendery found an opportunity to pull you aside as you headed to the kitchen for more snacks.

"Looks like you and Xiaojun are getting pretty close," he said casually, leaning against the doorframe. His tone was light, almost teasing.

You frowned slightly. "We're classmates, Hendery. And friends. Is there a problem with that?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No problem at all. Just observing. You two seemed… very engrossed in your conversation earlier." He let the words hang in the air, a subtle insinuation.

"We were talking about dance," you replied, your voice flat.

"Of course, of course," Hendery said quickly, his smile a little too bright. "Just seemed like there was a lot of… chemistry there." He emphasized the last word with a playful wink. "You know, Xiaojun's a great guy."

You stared at him, trying to decipher his meaning. Was he trying to make you jealous? Or was he genuinely… bothered? The flash of possessiveness you had seen earlier replayed in your mind.

"What's your point, Hendery?" you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

"Point? No point at all. Just making conversation. It's nice to see you laughing and having fun." He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "You look beautiful when you smile."

His sudden shift in demeanor, the return to his usual charming self, left you feeling disoriented. Was you imagining things? Had you misinterpreted his earlier reaction? He seemed so sincere now, so caring.

"Thanks," you said stiffly, pulling away slightly.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his brow furrowed with what seemed like genuine concern. "You seem a little… tense."

"I'm fine," you lied, forcing a small smile. "Just tired. The showcase is tomorrow."

"Of course, the showcase," Hendery said, his smile widening. "You're going to be amazing. We all are." He clapped you lightly on the shoulder. "Don't let anything distract you, okay? Focus on your performance. That's what really matters."

He moved back into the living room, his easy laughter joining the others. You watched him go, your mind racing. What had that brief lapse in his facade meant? Was he jealous? Possessive? The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

You returned to the living room, your earlier lighthearted mood completely gone. You observed Hendery, noticing the way he subtly positioned himself closer to you on the couch, the way his gaze lingered on you a fraction longer than necessary. Then you looked at Xiaojun, who was now animatedly telling a story, his expression open and friendly. There was no hidden agenda there, no manipulation.

The contrast was stark. You felt a growing sense of unease, a feeling that you were slowly starting to see the real Hendery beneath the carefully constructed surface. But a part of you still hesitated, unsure if you were overreacting, if you were letting Yangyang's accusations cloud your judgment.

As the night drew to a close and Xiaojun said his goodbyes, Hendery made sure to walk him to the door, engaging him in a friendly conversation. When he returned, he found you staring out the window, your expression thoughtful.

"Everything alright?" he asked softly, placing a hand on your back.

You turned to face him, your eyes searching his. "Hendery," you began, your voice hesitant, "earlier, when Xiaojun and I were talking… you seemed… different for a second."

Hendery's eyes widened in feigned surprise. "Different? How so?"

"I don't know," you said slowly, trying to articulate the fleeting glimpse you had caught. "It was just… a look. Like you were… angry or something."

Hendery chuckled, a dismissive sound. "Angry? At you and Xiaojun talking about dance? Don't be silly. I was probably just tired. It's been a long day." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, persuasive murmur. "You know I only want what's best for you. And seeing you happy makes me happy."

He reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands, his gaze intense and seemingly sincere. "Don't let silly thoughts cloud your mind, especially not before the showcase. You need to focus, remember?"

You looked into his eyes, trying to see past the charming facade. There was a part of you that wanted to believe him, that wanted to dismiss your doubts as mere paranoia. But the memory of that fleeting, unguarded expression lingered, a nagging voice whispering that things were not as they seemed.

"Okay," you said softly, leaning into his touch despite your lingering unease. You didn't know what to believe anymore. Hendery's manipulations were subtle, insidious, leaving you constantly questioning your own perceptions. Was you being paranoid? Or was you finally starting to see the truth? The uncertainty was a heavy weight in your chest, a dark cloud hanging over the anticipation of the showcase.

The alcohol and the lingering tension from the evening’s subtle power plays left you feeling drained. After Xiaojun, Ten, and Yangyang had all retired to their own rooms, Hendery lingered in the living area, offering to help you with the last of the tidying. He moved with an easy grace, his presence a comforting, if slightly unsettling, warmth beside you.

"Long day, huh?" he murmured, leaning against the counter as you wiped down the table.

"Yeah," you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "And tomorrow's going to be even longer."

He chuckled softly. "Don't worry. You'll be amazing. I have no doubt." His voice was low, reassuring.

As they finished up, Hendery didn't immediately leave. Instead, he started talking about the showcase, offering gentle words of encouragement, subtly boosting your confidence. He spoke of their shared passion for dance, of the dreams they both held. There was a genuine camaraderie in his words, a connection that felt deeply personal amidst the lingering unease you felt.

One thing led to another. The late hour, the effect of the drinks, and Hendery’s comforting presence began to blur the lines of your resolve. He walked you to your bedroom door, and instead of saying goodnight, he gently placed a hand on your arm. "You're truly incredible," he whispered, his eyes soft. "Don't ever forget that."

—

The next morning, you woke with a jolt, the reality of the showcase hitting you instantly. Hendery was still asleep beside you, his arm loosely draped around your waist. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you: confusion, a hint of regret, but also a strange sense of comfort. You carefully extricated yourself from his embrace, dressing quickly and quietly. You needed to focus on the performance, to push everything else aside for now.

—

The energy backstage was electric, a whirlwind of nervous excitement and last-minute preparations. Despite the personal drama, the four of them—you, Yangyang, Ten, and Hendery—transformed into professionals, their focus narrowing to the demanding choreography. They moved as a cohesive unit, their years of training kicking in, a silent understanding passing between them as they waited for their cue.

Their performance was a triumph. The crowd roared with applause, their cheers echoing through the auditorium. The intricate lifts, the synchronized movements, the raw emotion they poured into every step—it all resonated with the audience. As the final note faded, they stood panting, exhilarated, drenched in sweat and the sweet taste of success.

Backstage, a flurry of hugs and congratulations erupted. Yangyang, his face split in a wide, triumphant grin, rushed towards you. Without a second thought, he enveloped you in a tight hug, lifting you off your feet in a moment of pure, unadulterated joy. You laughed, hugging him back just as fiercely, feeling the familiar comfort of your long-standing friendship. It was a shared victory, a bond reaffirmed.

The hug lasted a beat too long, a beat that Hendery noticed from across the bustling room. His eyes narrowed, a subtle tightening around his mouth. The casual, friendly smile he'd worn moments before vanished, replaced by a flicker of irritation.

As Yangyang finally set you down, Hendery was already moving towards you two, his expression carefully neutral. He clapped Yangyang on the back, offering a seemingly sincere "Great job, man!" before gently taking your arm.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, but with an underlying firmness that caught your attention.

You, still buzzing from the performance, nodded, allowing him to lead you to a quieter corner of the backstage area, away from the celebratory chaos.

—

The moment you were out of earshot, Hendery dropped his pleasant demeanor. His eyes, usually so warm, now held an intensity. "What was that?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but sharp enough to cut through the lingering adrenaline.

You frowned, confused. "What was what?"

"That hug with Yangyang," he clarified, his jaw tightening. "It was a bit… much, don't you think?"

You stared at him, your own irritation flaring. "Much? Hendery, we just finished the showcase. We've known each other for years. We were celebrating!"

"Celebrating is one thing," he retorted, his voice rising slightly. "But that was practically an embrace. Especially after last night…" He trailed off, letting the implication hang in the air.

The subtle accusation, the possessive undertone, made your blood run cold. The comfortable haze from the night before evaporated, replaced by a sudden, stark clarity. The facade had indeed slipped again.

"Last night was… it just happened," you said, feeling defensive. "And it doesn't give you the right to dictate who I hug or how I act with my friends."

"Friends?" Hendery scoffed, a bitter edge to his voice. "He's clearly still hung up on you, and you’re just encouraging it." He gestured vaguely towards the main backstage area. "He's always trying to get in between us."

"That's ridiculous!" you exclaimed, your own voice rising. "Yangyang is my friend! He's always been there for me! And he's not trying to get in between anyone. You're the one who's trying to push him away!"

Hendery stepped closer, his voice dropping again, regaining its manipulative softness. "I'm just looking out for you. I don't want you to be hurt. Yangyang's been acting erratic, making accusations… You deserve someone stable, someone who truly cares about you." He reached for your hand, his thumb stroking your knuckles.

You pulled your hand away, your resolve solidifying. The caring act, the subtle digs at Yangyang. The brief slip, the irritation you’d seen.

"Don't do that, Hendery," you said, your voice firm. "Don't try to twist this. I saw how you looked at Yangyang earlier. And I saw how you looked at Xiaojun last night. You're trying to control me, and you're trying to alienate me from my friends."

His expression hardened, the charming facade cracking further. "Control you? I'm trying to protect you! You're naive. You don't see what he's really doing."

"No, you're the one playing games, Hendery," you countered, your voice trembling slightly with anger and hurt. "And I'm tired of it. I'm tired of feeling like I have to walk on eggshells around you. I'm tired of your trying to make me doubt my friends."

A cold silence fell between the both of you, broken only by the distant sounds of celebration. Hendery stared at you, his usual confident demeanor faltering for a split second, a flicker of genuine shock in his eyes that you had seen through him. Then, his features rearranged themselves into a mask of hurt innocence.

"Is that what you really think of me?" he asked, his voice laced with wounded disbelief. "After everything? After last night?"

You felt another wave of confusion and doubt. Were you being unfair? Had you misinterpreted everything? But the memory of his possessive gaze, the arguments with Yangyang – it all screamed otherwise.

"I don't know what to think anymore, Hendery," you admitted, your voice deflating. "But I know something isn't right."

You turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the quiet corner.

You didn't get far before Hendery's voice, soft and hesitant, stopped you. "Y/N, wait. Please."

You paused, your back to him, your heart still thrumming with a mixture of anger and confusion. You waited, bracing yourself for another attempt at manipulation. But when he spoke again, his voice was different – stripped of its usual smooth confidence, replaced with a vulnerability that caught you off guard.

"I'm so sorry," he said, and you heard his footsteps approach, but he didn't touch you. "I was out of line. Completely. There's no excuse for how I acted, for what I said."

You slowly turned, your eyes searching his. He looked genuinely remorseful, his gaze steady and sincere. There was no flicker of the irritation you’d seen earlier, no hint of the manipulative glint. His shoulders were slightly slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you hadn't noticed before.

"I... I got jealous," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "Seeing you with Yangyang, so happy, so close… it just hit me. I've never felt like that before, that rush of possessiveness. It's not right, I know. It's a flaw I need to work on, and I'm truly embarrassed by it."

He took a step closer, his eyes pleading. "And about what I said about Xiaojun, about Yangyang… that was me being insecure and trying to deflect. They're your friends, and they care about you. I have no right to try and come between you all. I've been a jerk, and I hate that you're seeing this side of me."

His words, delivered with such raw honesty, chipped away at your defenses. The anger that had been simmering within you began to dissipate, replaced by a surprising rush of empathy. He wasn't trying to twist things or blame you; he was admitting his faults, something you hadn't expected.

"I really like you," he continued, his voice earnest. "More than I've liked anyone in a long time. And the thought of losing you, especially after… after last night, it just made me act irrationally. I'm not trying to excuse it, but I hope you can understand." He looked down at his hands, then back up at you, his gaze unwavering. "Can you… can you forgive me?"

You studied him, trying to find any trace of insincerity, any sign of the calculating individual you'd glimpsed. But all you saw was a man laid bare, vulnerable and seemingly truly apologetic. The way he spoke, the sincerity in his eyes, felt undeniably genuine. You remembered the warmth of his presence the night before, the genuine encouragement, the shared passion. Maybe, just maybe, this was the real Hendery, and the other moments were just him struggling with unfamiliar feelings.

A soft sigh escaped you. "I… I believe you, Hendery," you said, the tension finally leaving your shoulders. "It's just… it was really upsetting. And honestly, it scared me a little."

A flicker of relief crossed his face, followed by a renewed sense of regret. "I know, and I'm so sorry for that. I promise you, I'll work on this. I don't want to be that person, and I definitely don't want to make you feel that way ever again."

He reached out, tentatively taking your hand this time. His thumb gently stroked your knuckles, a familiar, comforting gesture. "Y/N" he began, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, "I know this is probably the wrong time, but… I really want us to be something. Officially. I want to be your boyfriend."

The question hung in the air, unexpected yet not entirely unwelcome. Despite the drama, despite the flashes of his darker side, there was an undeniable pull you felt towards him. His charm, his passion, his sudden vulnerability – it was a potent combination. And in that moment, seeing him so open and seemingly sincere, you felt a surge of hope. You looked at him, truly looked at him, and saw the potential for something wonderful.

A small smile touched your lips. "Okay, Hendery," you said, your voice soft but clear. "I'll be your girlfriend."

—

News travels fast backstage, especially when it involves the personal lives of performers. It wasn’t long before Yangyang found out. He'd been heading towards you, a grin still plastered on his face, ready to suggest you guys go grab a celebratory meal. He saw you, standing a little too close, Hendery still holding your hand, a soft, intimate smile on your face. His own smile faltered, a knot forming in his stomach.

When Hendery finally released your hand and pulled you gently into a brief, possessive hug, Yangyang knew. His blood ran cold. He tried to tell himself it was just a friendly gesture, a continuation of their earlier conversation, but the way Hendery’s eyes met his over your shoulder, a subtle, a smirk playing on his lips, confirmed his worst fears.

Later, in the quiet of the dorms, after the last of the celebratory buzz had faded, Yangyang confronted you. He cornered you in the kitchen, his voice low and urgent.

"You and Hendery?" he asked, his brow furrowed with disbelief. "Are you serious? After everything?"

You sighed, leaning against the counter. "He apologized, Yangyang. Truly. He said he got jealous, that he was insecure. And… I believe him."

Yangyang threw his hands up in frustration. "Believe him? Y/N, he's playing you! He’s been manipulative this whole time, trying to push everyone away from you, and now he’s pulling this innocent act?" His voice rose slightly with each word. "Did you not see how he looked at me after the performance? The way he's been trying to get under my skin?"

"He admitted to all of that, Yangyang," you insisted, your voice firm. "He knows he messed up, and he promised to change. I really think he means it."

Yangyang stared at you. "You're being naive. He's good, I'll give him that. He knows how to charm his way out of anything. But he hasn't changed. He’s just playing a different game now." He felt a pang of despair, a deep ache in his chest. "I just don't want to see you hurt."

Across the living room, where he was engrossed in his phone, Hendery heard every word. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face, hidden from your view. He leaned back against the sofa, a quiet chuckle rumbling in his chest. Yangyang's frustration, his obvious distress, was almost comical. He had apologized, he had won you over, and now he had something truly worth holding onto. The fact that it visibly upset Yangyang so much only made the victory sweeter. He glanced up, catching Yangyang’s furious gaze over your head. Hendery offered him a small, almost imperceptible wink, a silent taunt that spoke volumes. The amusement in Hendery's eyes was clear, a stark contrast to Yangyang's growing despair.

The next few days settled into a new, slightly awkward, rhythm. Hendery, citing a need to "give you some space" and "focus on my own commitments," had opted to return to his own apartment across town. While you felt a pang of disappointment at his absence, a part of you welcomed the return to the familiar comfort of your shared apartment with Ten and Yangyang. The silence without Hendery’s constant, charged presence was a relief, allowing you to process the whirlwind of emotions from the past week.

Yangyang, however, remained visibly bothered. The vibrant energy that usually radiated from him was dampened, replaced by a quiet watchfulness. He tried to act normal, offering you casual conversation about their dance routines or upcoming schedules, but his usual easy banter was gone. You noticed the way his eyes lingered on you, a flicker of hurt and concern in their depths that twisted your stomach with a quiet guilt. You knew he was struggling with your decision, and it made your own happiness with Hendery feel tinged with a bittersweet ache.

Ten, ever the observant one, walked a careful line. He offered you gentle smiles and reassuring pats on the back, acknowledging your new relationship without overtly praising it. He also tried to engage Yangyang, attempting to coax him back into their usual easygoing dynamic, but even Ten's efforts seemed to hit a wall. He was supportive of you, as he always was, but a subtle tension hung in the air between the three of them.

—

Hendery, though physically absent, was far from out of the picture. His texts to you were constant, a steady stream of sweet nothings, compliments, and playful inquiries about your day. He built you up, reminding you of your talent, your beauty, and how lucky he was to have you. Amidst these declarations, however, a new, theme began to emerge.

"Just thinking about you," one text would read, "and how lucky I am. It's just a little strange, isn't it, having your roommate so obviously into you? I mean, while you're dating someone else?"

Another time, after you mentioned Yangyang's quiet demeanor, Hendery replied, "It's understandable he's upset, I guess. But for your sake, you deserve to feel comfortable in your own home. Having someone pining after you, especially your roommate, can't be good for your peace of mind. It’s a bit… disrespectful to you and to our relationship, don’t you think?"

You found yourself rereading these messages, a slow unease unfurling within you. You tried to dismiss them at first. Yangyang is just my friend, you’d tell yourself. He'll get over it. But Hendery's words, so carefully phrased, began to plant seeds of doubt. You started to notice Yangyang’s lingering glances, his quietness, his occasional sighs, through a new lens. Was he indeed "pining"? Was it truly disrespectful to you and Hendery? The idea of Yangyang's affection, once a comforting constant in your life, now felt like a subtle burden, a shadow on your new relationship.

—

Hendery wasn't limiting his communication to you. He also reached out to Ten, subtly weaving his narrative into their conversations. These interactions were always framed as friendly check-ins, brotherly advice, or lighthearted jokes.

"How’s Y/N doing?" Hendery would text Ten. "She seems a little preoccupied lately. Is Yangyang making things awkward?"

Another time, "It’s a tough spot for you, isn't it? Having a roommate who's clearly still hung up on another, especially now that we're together. I just want her to be happy and stress-free at home."

Ten, who genuinely cared for both you and Yangyang, found himself in a difficult position. He wanted to be a good friend to you, to support your new relationship, but he also saw Yangyang's pain. Hendery's comments, however, began to subtly influence his perspective. He started to view Yangyang's sadness not just as unrequited love, but as something that was creating an uncomfortable atmosphere for you. He saw it as a burden you shouldn't have to carry, especially when you were trying to build something new with Hendery.

One evening, after Hendery's latest text about Yangyang's "pining," Ten approached you in the living room. "Hey," he began, his voice gentle. "Are things… okay, between you and Yangyang? He's been really quiet."

You hesitated, Hendery’s words echoing in your mind. "I don't know, Ten," you admitted, rubbing your temples. "Hendery thinks… he thinks Yangyang being so obviously upset is making things weird. Like it's not fair to me or to Hendery."

Ten nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. He didn't disagree with Hendery's sentiment, not entirely. "I can see that," he said, his tone supportive. "It's a tricky situation. I mean, it's not fair to you to have to deal with that kind of emotional… intensity, especially in your own home. You deserve to feel comfortable and happy here." He paused, then added, "Maybe Yangyang just needs a bit of space, or a clearer understanding of where things stand. For everyone's sake."

You looked at Ten, grateful for his understanding. You respected his opinion, and hearing him echo, even in a softer way, Hendery's concerns, solidified the idea in your mind. It wasn't just Hendery being possessive; it was a legitimate issue. The idea that Yangyang's emotional state was a burden on you, a disruption to your newfound happiness, began to take root. The subtle manipulation was working, slowly but surely, turning your compassion for Yangyang into a growing sense of exasperation.

—

The atmosphere in the apartment grew increasingly strained. You, influenced by Hendery’s whispers and Ten's well-meaning but misguided reinforcement, found yourself becoming subtly irritated by Yangyang’s quiet presence. You started to perceive his silence as sullenness, his lingering glances as intrusive, and his general sadness as a deliberate attempt to cast a shadow over your relationship.

One afternoon, Hendery decided it was time to move beyond subtle hints. He’d orchestrated a visit when he knew you would be out, leaving Yangyang and Ten as the only ones home. He found Yangyang in the living room, sketching in a notebook, a familiar look on his face. Ten was in his room, listening to music.

Hendery walked in with an air of casual confidence, but his eyes held a steely glint. He clapped Yangyang on the shoulder, a gesture that felt more like a claim than a greeting. "Hey, man," he said, his voice smooth but with an underlying edge that Yangyang immediately picked up on.

Yangyang looked up, his expression guarded. "Hey, Hendery, y/n isn’t here."

Hendery settled onto the sofa opposite Yangyang, a feigned lightness in his tone. "So, listen, I wanted to clear the air. About y/n."

Yangyang's grip tightened on his pencil. "What about her?"

"Look, I know you guys have a long history," Hendery began, leaning forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. "And I get that old feelings can linger. But you and I are together now. Officially. And frankly, your… pining… is making things really uncomfortable for her. And for me."

Yangyang's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and hurt. "Pining? What are you talking about? I’m her friend, Hendery. I'm worried about her."

"Worried, or wishing things were different?" Hendery’s voice remained calm, almost conversational, but each word was a calculated jab. "Come on, Yangyang. It's obvious to everyone. The way you look at her, the way you act around her. It’s not just friendly. It's affecting her, making her feel like she can't even relax in her own home without someone being upset about her choices."

Yangyang pushed himself up from the sofa, his voice rising in frustration. "You're twisting things! You're the one who's trying to isolate her, to make her think her friends are a problem!"

Hendery stood up too, closing the distance between them. "Let's be clear, Yangyang. I care about y/n. A lot. And I won't have anything or anyone disrupting her happiness, especially not something as childish as unrequited feelings from her roommate. It's time you moved on. For her sake. And for the sake of our relationship." He paused, a subtle, cold smile touching his lips. "She deserves to be with someone who’s fully committed to her, without any lingering emotional baggage."

The implication hung heavy in the air. Hendery was essentially telling Yangyang to get over his feelings, or get out of your life – or at least, out of your apartment. Yangyang stood there, fuming, but the sudden calm and calculated menace in Hendery’s eyes stifled his retort.

—

Later that evening, after Hendery had left, Yangyang found you alone in the kitchen, making tea. He knew he had to talk to you, even if he risked your further annoyance.

"Y/N" he started, his voice strained, "we need to talk. Hendery was here."

You turned, your expression already tinged with defensiveness. "I know. He texted me. Is everything okay?"

"No, it's not okay," Yangyang said, stepping closer, his voice urgent. "He just… he confronted me. About my feelings for you." He saw a flicker of something in your eyes, a mixture of surprise and discomfort. "He said I was making things uncomfortable for you, that I was 'pining' and that it was disrespectful to your relationship with him."

You looked away, fiddling with your teacup. "Yangyang, I… I know it's hard. But he has a point. It's just… it's a bit much, you know? Having that kind of tension in the apartment."

Yangyang felt a cold dread spread through him. You were buying into it. "Tension? You, that's not tension, that's him manipulating you! He's twisting everything. He wants you to believe I'm some kind of problem, so you'll push me away. He's always done this, you!”

He reached out, placing a hand on your arm, his eyes pleading. "Please, Y/N , think about it. Since you two got together, he's been constantly putting me down, making you doubt me. He's trying to control who you can be friends with. This isn't about my feelings; it's about him isolating you."

You pulled your arm away gently, your gaze distant. You remembered Hendery's "apology," his vulnerable admissions. You remembered Ten's agreement that it was a "tricky situation." And now, Yangyang's passionate outburst, while sounding sincere, also felt exactly like what Hendery had warned you about – "erratic," "making accusations."

"Yangyang, stop," you said, your voice quiet but firm. "I… I don't know what to think. Hendery apologized, he admitted he was jealous, he's trying to be better. And Ten even said he understands why it's uncomfortable. You're just… you're upset. And I get it, but you're making it seem like he's this evil mastermind, and it's not fair."

You looked at him, your eyes clouded with confusion and a hint of weary resignation. "I care about you, Yangyang, you know that. But I’m with Hendery now. And if your feelings are making it difficult for me to have a healthy relationship and feel comfortable in my own home, then… then maybe something does need to change."

Yangyang stared at you, his heart sinking. He saw the doubt in your eyes, the way you were already starting to pull away. Hendery’s web of manipulation was tightening, and you were caught right in the center of it.

[chuuwey]

Shadows pt. 2

part 1 part 3

18+ minors dni !!

pairings: toxic! hendery x reader, slight yangyang x reader, best friend! ten x reader

warnings: manipulation, stalking, gaslighting, mentions of alcohol

authors note: part 3 will be coming soon, enjoy 🙂‍↕️

⸻

The air in the apartment shifted.

Hendery stood in the doorway, his usual easy smile in place, but you weren’t stupid.

You felt the weight behind his gaze.

Like he knew.

Like he had heard everything Yangyang had just said to you.

Yangyang, on the other hand, looked like he was ready to murder someone.

His jaw was clenched so tightly you thought his teeth might crack.

And the worst part?

Hendery was enjoying it.

He flicked his gaze over to Yangyang, tilting his head slightly. “Oh. You’re here.”

Yangyang let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “You’ve got some nerve showing up.”

Hendery raised a brow, all fake innocence. “Why wouldn’t I? You and I were supposed to hang out tonight.”

You blinked.

“No, we weren’t.”

Hendery turned to you, his smile softening. “You must’ve forgotten, baby. It’s okay.”

Baby.

You stiffened.

He had never called you that before.

Not like this.

It wasn’t affectionate—it was territorial.

Yangyang noticed, too.

His shoulders squared, his entire body tensing like he was about to swing.

You felt it, the second before he was going to snap.

“Yangyang,” you said quietly. A warning.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes burning into Hendery.

But he didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Hendery smiled, pleased with himself.

Then he turned his attention fully to you.

“I was actually hoping we could talk alone.”

Yangyang laughed at that. “Yeah, I bet you were.”

Hendery ignored him, keeping his gaze locked onto yours.

Waiting.

And the worst part?

You hesitated.

Because despite everything—despite Yangyang’s warnings, despite the growing unease in your gut—you still felt drawn to Hendery.

Maybe it was the charm.

Maybe it was the way he always seemed so calm, so collected.

Or maybe it was the simple fact that, for some reason, you wanted to believe he was being honest.

“Fine,” you said before you could think too much about it.

Yangyang snapped his gaze to you.

“Are you serious?”

You felt his frustration, his disappointment.

But you just nodded.

Yangyang scoffed, shaking his head. “Whatever.”

And then he was gone, stalking off to his room and slamming the door behind him.

The room felt different without him there.

Quieter.

Tense.

Hendery just sighed, shaking his head.

“You know, I don’t understand why he hates me so much.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “You know exactly why.”

Hendery chuckled. “Do I?”

You didn’t respond, waiting for him to speak first.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated.

“Listen, I know things got weird between us,” he started. “And I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That was never my intention.”

His voice was so gentle.

“I just—I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted. “I care about you.”

He sounded so sincere.

You inhaled sharply.

“You need to give me space, Hendery,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

His smile faltered just slightly.

But it was so fast that you almost thought you imagined it.

“Of course,” he said easily. “I just… I don’t want you to believe the wrong things about me.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Hendery exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know Yangyang has been saying things about me,” he said, voice quiet. “And I don’t blame him. He doesn’t trust me. I get it.”

You stayed silent.

“But I need you to know that I would never hurt you.”

He stepped closer, eyes searching yours.

“I need you to trust me.”

Your pulse was too loud in your ears.

If you agreed, if you said you trusted him, then you would be playing right into his hands.

Hendery wanted you to pick a side.

To pick him.

You swallowed.

“I… I need time.”

Hendery studied you for a moment.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

“Okay,” he said softly.

And then he stepped back.

Like he was actually listening.

Like he was actually respecting your decision.

⸻

Hendery waited.

And waited.

And waited.

He gave you space—just like you asked.

But it was all part of the plan.

Because distance makes the heart grow fonder, right?

You would miss him. You had to.

You would start to feel his absence, start to crave him again.

Except—

You didn’t.

Not at all.

And Hendery knew.

Because he was watching.

⸻

The apartment was warm, filled with laughter.

You leaned into Yangyang’s side on the couch, laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

Yangyang was half-drunk, rambling about something ridiculous, his usual teasing grin in place.

Ten sat across from you, sipping his drink with an amused look.

“God, you two are so dumb,” he muttered, shaking his head.

You swatted at him. “Shut up, we’re hilarious.”

Yangyang nodded, looping an arm around your shoulder. “Exactly. Finally, someone who understands.”

Ten smirked. “I do understand. That’s why I’m saying it’s dumb.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging Yangyang playfully.

And something about the way he looked at you—

Something about the warmth in his gaze, the ease in his touch—

Made your chest feel tight.

You ignored it.

But Ten didn’t.

He noticed the way you looked at Yangyang differently now.

And he definitely noticed the way Yangyang had stopped trying to hide his feelings.

He thought it was cute.

And a little funny.

But mostly?

It was long overdue.

⸻

Hendery clenched his jaw, fingers gripping the edge of his desk so hard his knuckles turned white.

He stared at the screen, unblinking.

The picture you had posted of you and Yangyang.

The apartment was supposed to be his space.

You were supposed to be his.

But now you were posing with Yangyang like he was the center of your world.

Hendery’s blood boiled.

This was not the plan.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

You were slipping away from him.

And it was his fault.

He had given you too much space.

Let you think too much.

Let you forget him.

No.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Because Hendery had seen what he needed to see.

And now?

It was time to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

⸻

Hendery had seen the photo. He’d seen you laughing, leaning into Yangyang, a comfortable intimacy radiating from the image that made his stomach churn. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t how you were supposed to be spending your “space.”

He’d given you distance—meticulously calculated to make you miss him, to remind you of his undeniable presence in your life. But instead, you were getting closer to the very people he’d been trying to remove. The thought ignited a cold fury inside him. Yangyang, the annoying, perceptive brat, was winning. And Ten, the supposed friend, was simply watching it happen.

No. This couldn’t stand.

Hendery took a deep breath, masking his emotions behind a calm, unreadable expression. He needed to re-evaluate. He had to be swift, decisive, and irreversible. The subtle games, the charm—they weren’t working fast enough. It was time for something else.

The next few days were unsettlingly quiet. Hendery disappeared. No dance practice. No run-ins in the hallways. Not even a casual text from him lit up your phone.

At first, you felt relief. The pressure of his presence had finally lifted. But beneath that relief, a quiet, creeping unease began to fester. It was too quiet. Too still. Like the calm before a storm.

Yangyang, on the other hand, seemed to thrive without Hendery. He was lighter, freer—his jokes flowing as effortlessly as before. The tension between you two dissolved, replaced by the easy friendship you used to share. Ten, watching from the sidelines, allowed himself a quiet sense of satisfaction. Maybe Hendery had finally gotten the message.

Then, the rumors started.

They came subtly at first—whispers in the dance club, murmurs in the cafeteria. You dismissed them as nonsense, until they got louder. More specific.

“Did you hear about Yangyang?”

“He got into a fight last night.”

“Yeah, totally wasted. Caused a scene.”

Your stomach twisted. That didn’t sound like Yangyang at all. He was the one pulling friends out of trouble, not diving headfirst into it.

But then came the so-called eyewitnesses. People claiming to have seen him shouting at strangers in bars. Picking fights. The details varied, but the narrative remained: Yangyang was spiraling.

You confronted him one night after practice.

“Yangyang, are the rumors true?” you asked quietly.

He frowned, hands stuffed in his pockets. “What rumors?”

“That you’ve been fighting. Drinking too much.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “No. I went out, yeah, but I didn’t start any fights. I barely even drank.”

You wanted to believe him. Desperately. But the rumors were so consistent. Too consistent.

“Then why is everyone saying this?” you asked, heart sinking.

He shook his head, visibly frustrated. “I don’t know. But I swear, it’s not me.”

Ten, though, had a gut feeling. He knew Yangyang. The stories didn’t fit. And the way they were spreading—strategically, like clockwork—it felt… planned.

He cornered you one afternoon.

“I don’t think Yangyang’s lying,” he said seriously.

You frowned. “Then who would be spreading this?”

Ten looked you in the eyes. Grim.

“Who has the most to gain from Yangyang looking bad?”

Your breath caught. Hendery.

But it was too cruel. Too calculating. Could he really be behind it all?

Then came the final blow.

At a dance club meeting, the president announced audition schedules for the end-of-semester showcase.

“And Yangyang… it says here you’ve withdrawn your application.”

You saw the color drain from Yangyang’s face.

“What? No, I didn’t!”

The president glanced between her clipboard and him. “It’s signed. Your student ID. Submitted yesterday.”

“That’s impossible! I didn’t sign anything!”

Gasps and whispers rippled through the room. Yangyang’s reputation—already shaky—was collapsing.

Then, the door creaked open. Hendery stepped in. Calm. Apologetic smile. As if nothing was wrong.

Your eyes locked with his, and you felt a chill run down your spine. He looked too calm. Too in control.

Yangyang’s voice broke with desperation. “Someone forged my signature! I want to audition!”

The president hesitated. “Yangyang, the deadline has passed. This is a formal withdrawal.”

Yangyang spun toward Hendery.

“You!” he shouted, pointing. “You did this!”

Hendery blinked, expression a picture of polite shock. “Me? Yangyang, why would I do that?”

“Because you’re sick!” Yangyang roared, lunging.

Ten jumped between them, holding him back.

“Yangyang, stop! Don’t make it worse!”

But he wasn’t listening.

“He wants to get rid of me!” he yelled. “He wants to take her away!”

He looked at you, raw desperation in his voice.

“You have to see it, Y/N! He’s trying to ruin me!”

You froze. The room was silent. Hendery remained still—expression calm.

You stared at Hendery. His smirk was gone now, replaced with something colder.

[chuuwey]

part 2 to shadows will be out either tonight or tomorrow :) ! i have been so focused on this story i have not been writing for my other ones sorry 😣

[chuuwey]

Shadows pt. 1

part 2 part 3

18+ minors dni!!

pairings: toxic! hendery x fem reader, slight yangyang x fem reader, best friend! ten x fem reader

warnings: manipulation, gaslighting, stalking, sexual themes, alcohol

authors note: this is kind of a long story so it’ll have to be multiple parts, enjoy 🙂‍↕️

__________________________________________

You'd always loved dancing. It was the one place where you could lose yourself completely—where the stress of college, the expectations, and the constant noise of life faded into the rhythm of music. And you weren’t alone in it. Your best friends, Ten and Yangyang, shared that love with you.

The three of you had been inseparable since freshman year, meeting through your university’s dance club. Living together in a small but cozy apartment near campus, you spent your days attending classes and your nights practicing choreography. Life was simple, predictable, and filled with laughter.

But lately, you'd been feeling something… unsettling. A presence. A weight in the air. Like eyes watching you, following your every move.

At first, you brushed it off, telling yourself it was just paranoia. But the feeling wouldn’t go away. It lurked in the back of your mind, making your skin prickle every time you walked home alone or practiced late at night in the dance studio.

One evening, after practice, you finally decided to tell your roommates.

“I think someone’s watching me,” you blurted out as you flopped onto the couch.

Yangyang, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up instantly. “What? Like a stalker?” His face shifted from playful to serious in seconds.

Ten, sitting cross-legged on the floor stretching his legs, raised an eyebrow. “You sure? It could just be in your head.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. It just… it feels real. Sometimes I turn around, and I swear I see someone, but then they’re gone. And even when I’m alone, I feel like I’m not.”

Yangyang frowned. “That’s creepy. Do you want me to walk with you to class?”

“I can take care of myself,” you huffed.

Ten leaned back on his hands, thinking. “Maybe someone does have their eyes on you, but that doesn’t mean they have bad intentions. Are you sure it’s not just, like, an admirer?”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not the point, Ten. It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Alright, alright,” Ten sighed. “Just… be careful, okay? But if you do see someone sketchy, tell us right away.”

Yangyang nodded in agreement, though you could see he believed you more than Ten did.

Little did you know, you were being watched.

By Hendery.

Hendery had first noticed you at the beginning of the semester. You weren’t just beautiful; you had a presence, a light that made it impossible to look away. He found himself watching you during lectures, in the hallways, and most often—during dance practice.

At first, it was curiosity. Then it became something more.

Possession.

You didn’t know it yet, but you belonged to him.

But Yangyang seemed like a problem to him.

Yangyang was too close to you. Too comfortable, too familiar. Hendery had studied your friendship and knew that Yangyang was an obstacle standing between him and you.

And so, Hendery devised a plan.

The next week, the dance club held open auditions. Hendery joined.

You had no idea why, but the moment he stepped onto the dance floor, something in your stomach twisted. He was charming, that was obvious. He introduced himself with a bright smile, his confidence effortless. Even Ten and Yangyang seemed to warm up to him quickly.

And he was good—really good. He moved with a natural ease, his rhythm impeccable. The entire club, including the instructor, was impressed.

You, however, felt unsettled.

Why now?

You had seen him around campus before. He had always been in the background, never really someone who stood out to you. But now, he was suddenly everywhere.

As weeks passed, Hendery ingratiated himself into your friend group seamlessly. He was friendly, funny, and likable. Even Ten, who was usually hard to impress, admitted that Hendery was cool.

But Yangyang remained wary.

Yangyang, who was perceptive in ways others weren’t, noticed the way Hendery watched you. It was different from the way he looked at anyone else.

And what made Yangyang most uneasy was that Hendery had already figured out his secret—his hidden crush on you.

One night, after practice, the two of them were left alone in the studio. Hendery leaned against the mirror, watching Yangyang tie his shoes.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Yangyang froze for half a second before forcing a scoff. “What?”

Hendery smirked. “You. You like her.”

Yangyang rolled his eyes. “And what if I do?”

“Too bad,” Hendery said smoothly. “i’m gonna make her mine”

Yangyang bristled. “She’s not anyone’s.”

Hendery only chuckled, pushing off the mirror. “We’ll see about that.”

As the semester went on, you started to let your guard down around Hendery. He was always there—supporting you, laughing with you, making you feel seen.

And you hated to admit it, but you liked his attention.

Still, you noticed something strange.

Whenever you were with Yangyang, Hendery would find a way to be there too. He would subtly insert himself into conversations, brush off Yangyang’s words, and make sure your focus was on him instead.

And then there were the small things.

Like the time you mentioned wanting to try a new café, and Hendery just so happened to show up there when you went.

Or the way you felt his gaze on you even when he wasn’t in sight.

One night, as you were leaving the studio alone, you heard footsteps behind you.

Your heart pounded. You turned around sharply.

Nothing.

Shaking your head, you walked faster.

But the next morning, there was a text on your phone.

Hendery: Be careful walking alone at night, (Y/N).

Your blood ran cold.

You never told him you had walked home alone.

Hendery hid his true nature well. To you, he was a sweet, reliable friend. To Ten and Yangyang, he was the cool new guy.

But in reality, he was waiting.

Waiting for the perfect moment to make you his.

And if anyone got in his way…

Well, he’d take care of them.

-

The tension in the apartment was growing thicker by the day, though you didn’t fully realize it.

To you, things seemed fine on the surface—normal, even. Classes were the usual mix of stress and exhaustion, dance practice was still the highlight of your days, and your friendship with Hendery had only grown stronger.

But to Yangyang, everything was wrong.

Hendery was everywhere. Always near you, always charming his way into your group. And worst of all, you seemed to like it.

Yangyang saw the way your eyes lingered on Hendery when you thought no one was looking. The way you laughed a little too hard at his jokes, how you leaned just a little closer when he spoke to you.

You liked him.

And it was driving Yangyang insane.

Ten, oblivious to the silent war brewing, had the bright idea of hosting a small drinking night at your apartment.

“It’s been forever since we just chilled,” Ten had said, stretching after practice. “We should drink this weekend.”

“I’m down,” you grinned. “It’s been a while.”

Yangyang hesitated for half a second, but then nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Hendery, of course, was the first to agree. “Sounds fun.”

That was how the four of you ended up sitting on the living room floor Saturday night, a half-empty bottle of soju between you, the air thick with alcohol and laughter.

You were flushed from the drinks, your head light and dizzy, but you were happy. You leaned against Ten’s shoulder, giggling at something he said, completely unaware of the way Hendery’s gaze darkened for a split second before returning to its usual warmth.

Yangyang, sitting across from them, took a slow sip of his drink, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.

“You guys are too close,” Hendery suddenly said, tilting his head as he looked at you and Ten.

You blinked. “What? No, we’re not.”

Ten smirked, nudging you playfully. “Yeah, (Y/N), maybe we should start acting like strangers.”

You laughed, pushing him back. “Shut up.”

But Hendery’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Yangyang noticed.

“Are you jealous or something?” Yangyang asked, leaning back on his palms. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it.

Hendery chuckled, shaking his head. “Not at all. I just think it’s interesting.”

The conversation moved on, but Yangyang didn’t forget the look in Hendery’s eyes.

As the night stretched on, Ten was the first to call it quits.

“I’m so done,” he groaned, flopping onto the couch. “Wake me up in the morning.”

You snorted. “You didn’t even drink that much.”

Ten waved you off, already half-asleep.

Yangyang wasn’t far behind. “I should sleep too,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he pushed himself up. He glanced at you. “You okay?”

You smiled. “Yeah, I’m good. Go sleep.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking between you and Hendery.

Something in his gut told him to stay.

But before he could make an excuse, Hendery stretched and yawned. “I should head home soon, too.”

Yangyang narrowed his eyes slightly. He didn’t trust it.

Still, he nodded and disappeared into his room.

That left you and Hendery alone.

The apartment was quiet now, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the faint sound of Ten’s breathing from the couch.

You sighed, tilting your head back. “I don’t feel like moving.”

Hendery chuckled. “Then don’t.”

You turned to look at him. His eyes were soft, his lips curled in an easy smile.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You were drunk. That had to be it.

Hendery tilted his head slightly, watching you. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly.

He smirked. “Liar.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest wouldn’t go away.

After a moment, you sighed. “You can stay the night if you want. It’s late.”

Hendery raised a brow. “Where would I sleep?”

“…My bed, I guess.”

Hendery didn’t hesitate. “Alright.”

You should have felt nervous.

But you didn’t.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that you had started seeing Hendery in a different light. Either way, as you lay side by side in your bed, the room dimly lit by your bedside lamp, you found yourself relaxing.

He smelled nice—clean, a little like the cologne he always wore. His presence was warm, steady.

“This is kinda dangerous, you know,” Hendery murmured suddenly.

You turned your head to look at him. “What?”

His lips curled into a slow smile. “Letting a guy sleep in your bed.”

You scoffed. “Please. It’s just you.”

His smile didn’t falter, but something flickered in his eyes.

Just me.

You had no idea.

As you drifted off to sleep, Hendery lay awake beside you, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

He had waited so long for this.

And he wasn’t going to let anyone take you from him.

Not Yangyang.

Not Ten.

No one.

-

The next morning, you woke up with a headache and a strange sense of unease.

Hendery was still asleep beside you, his face relaxed, his breathing even. It should have been harmless. It was harmless. And yet, something about waking up next to him left you feeling… off.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, making your way to the kitchen where you found Yangyang already awake, nursing a cup of coffee at the counter.

His eyes flicked up as you walked in.

“You good?” he asked, voice groggy.

You nodded, rubbing your temples. “Just hungover.”

Yangyang hummed, watching you carefully. Then, after a pause, he said, “So… Hendery slept in your bed last night.”

You stiffened for a split second before shrugging. “Yeah, it was late, and he had nowhere else to sleep.”

Yangyang scoffed softly, setting his mug down. “He could’ve slept on the couch. Or the floor.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why do you care?”

Yangyang’s jaw tensed slightly. “I don’t.”

Lie.

You sighed, deciding to let it go. You were too tired to argue, and honestly, you didn’t even know why it mattered.

But Ten noticed the shift in the air the second he woke up.

Over the next few days, things only got worse.

Yangyang was irritated. Hendery was always around. He was too smooth, too charming, and the worst part? You were falling for it.

Yangyang saw the way you looked at him, the way you laughed at his stupid jokes, how you seemed comfortable around him.

And it drove him insane.

Ten, being the most observant one in their group, picked up on Yangyang’s tension immediately.

“Dude,” Ten muttered one day, pulling Yangyang aside after practice. “You’ve been acting weird.”

Yangyang rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ten crossed his arms. “You do know. And I know exactly why.”

Yangyang tensed but didn’t say anything.

Ten smirked. “You’re jealous of Hendery.”

Yangyang’s expression darkened. “I’m not jealous.”

“Right.” Ten gave him a knowing look. “You’ve been sulking ever since he got close to (Y/N).”

Yangyang scoffed, looking away. “He’s just annoying.”

Ten watched him carefully, his smirk fading into something softer. “You like her.”

Silence.

Yangyang exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because she likes him.”

Ten didn’t argue. He could see it, too.

But something about Hendery never sat right with him.

Then, Hendery made his first mistake.

It was a small thing. Something that shouldn’t have even mattered.

You guys were at the dance studio, practicing a new routine. You were struggling with one particular move, getting frustrated every time you messed up.

Hendery, ever the perfect guy, walked up behind you and placed his hands on your hips.

“Here, let me help you,” he murmured, guiding your movements.

The moment his hands touched you, you stiffened.

It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable—Hendery had always been touchy. But this time, it felt… off.

Forced.

Possessive.

You suddenly became hyperaware of how close he was, of the way his fingers lingered a second too long.

And for the first time since you had started liking him, a bad feeling settled in your stomach.

Yangyang saw the shift immediately.

He had been watching the interaction from across the room, arms crossed tightly, jaw clenched. But the moment you pulled away, something inside him settled.

Hendery noticed, too.

You laughed it off, making some excuse about needing a break before quickly walking off to the side.

And who was the first person you went to?

Yangyang.

Hendery felt his blood boil.

You plopped down beside Yangyang, groaning. “I suck.”

Yangyang raised an eyebrow. “You don’t suck.”

“I can’t get that move right.”

Yangyang nudged your shoulder. “You’ll get it. You always do.”

You glanced at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Thanks, Yangyang.”

Hendery clenched his fists.

He hated the way you looked at Yangyang.

Yangyang, who didn’t deserve your attention. Who was nothing but an annoying little brat in his eyes.

And yet, there you were—leaning into him, laughing at his words, completely forgetting about Hendery.

He forced a smile, masking the storm brewing inside him.

For now.

That night, you couldn’t shake the weird feeling in your gut.

Something about the way Hendery had touched you earlier—it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t right either.

You had never questioned his intentions before. He was Hendery, the guy who had been nothing but sweet to you since the day you met.

And yet, the more you thought about it, the more you realized something.

Hendery never really gave you space.

He was always there. Always watching, always waiting.

You shook your head, pushing the thought away.

Maybe you were overthinking.

Maybe you just needed to sleep.

Little did you know, you weren’t the only one awake that night.

Hendery sat in his room, staring at his phone, his jaw clenched as he scrolled through pictures of you.

And one thought consumed him.

He needed to get rid of Yangyang.

-

You weren’t sure when the shift happened, but it was undeniable now. The excitement you had once felt around Hendery had dulled.

You still liked him—at least, you thought you did—but there was something gnawing at you. A subtle discomfort that you couldn’t explain.

It had started small. The way he always seemed to know where you were. The way he conveniently showed up whenever you needed something, like he was waiting for the opportunity. And then there was the way he had touched you during practice—too familiar, too firm.

It wasn’t outright wrong, but it wasn’t right either.

And worst of all? Yangyang had noticed.

For the past few days, Yangyang had been acting different.

More annoyed. More present.

If Hendery was around, Yangyang made sure he was, too. If Hendery made you laugh, Yangyang would say something funnier. If Hendery tried to help you during practice, Yangyang would offer first.

And Hendery hated it.

Ten noticed it, too.

Sitting in your apartment one evening, Ten casually tossed a chip into his mouth and eyed Yangyang. “So, are you gonna admit you hate Hendery, or are we just gonna pretend you don’t?”

Yangyang, who had been scrolling through his phone, didn’t even look up. “I don’t hate him.”

Ten snorted. “Right.”

“I don’t,” Yangyang insisted. “I just don’t like him.”

“Uh-huh. And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that y/n and Hendery have been getting close, right?”

Yangyang stayed silent.

Ten smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Before Yangyang could respond, the front door opened, and you walked in, looking drained.

“Bad day?” Ten asked.

You groaned, dropping onto the couch. “I don’t know. I just… I feel off.”

Yangyang glanced at you. “Because of Hendery?”

You hesitated. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Ten raised an eyebrow. “Did he do something?”

You chewed on your lip. “No, he’s just… I don’t know how to explain it. He hasn’t done anything, but something feels weird.”

Yangyang sat forward, eyes sharpening. “Weird how?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, Yangyang. Just weird.”

Yangyang exchanged a glance with Ten, who gave him a knowing look.

Ten exhaled and stretched. “You need a distraction. Let’s do something fun tonight.”

You smiled slightly. “Like what?”

Yangyang smirked. “Drinks?”

Ten clapped his hands. “Done.”

You should have known Hendery would show up.

It was never explicitly said, but somehow, he always found out where you were.

You weren’t even surprised when he walked into the bar later that night, greeting you with his usual charming grin.

“What a coincidence,” Hendery said smoothly, sliding into the booth beside you.

Yangyang tensed. “Yeah. Crazy coincidence.”

Hendery ignored him, turning his attention to you. “You look good tonight.”

You gave him a small smile, but something about the compliment felt off. It felt too practiced.

Hendery had a way of making everything feel intentional, like he was following a script only he could see.

As the night went on, the drinks kept flowing, but the tension in the booth was suffocating.

Yangyang and Hendery were at each other’s throats in the most polite way possible.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance outside of the studio, Yangyang,” Hendery mused, twirling his drink in his hand. “Afraid you’ll embarrass yourself?”

Yangyang scoffed. “Please. I don’t need to show off. Unlike some people.”

Hendery’s smile was sharp. “Confidence is important in dance. y/n likes confident guys, don’t you?”

You blinked, suddenly pulled into the conversation. “Uh what?”

Hendery leaned closer. “I mean, you like guys who take charge, right? Someone who can lead?”

You hesitated. “I mean… I guess? But—”

“Oh, so that means Yangyang’s out,” Hendery teased, smirking.

Yangyang clenched his jaw. “I think she can decide for herself what she likes.”

Hendery chuckled, but his fingers tightened around his glass.

Ten, sensing the rising tension, quickly changed the subject, but the damage had been done.

You were paying attention to Yangyang now.

And Hendery hated it.

Later that night, they all stumbled back to the apartment, still tipsy from the drinks.

Ten crashed onto the couch again, mumbling something about how he was too tired to move.

Hendery, as always, lingered.

You stood in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water, when you felt him behind you.

“You should go to bed,” he murmured.

You turned to face him, leaning against the counter. “I will.”

He smiled, stepping closer. “I could stay again, if you want.”

You hesitated.

A few days ago, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But now… something felt different.

You forced a small smile. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“Alright.” he said

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding as he stepped back.

But just as you turned to leave, he caught your wrist gently.

“y/n.”

You looked up at him.

Hendery’s eyes were soft, but there was something unreadable behind them. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

Your stomach twisted. “…Yeah.”

He smiled. “Good.”

Then he let go.

You walked past him without another word.

But as you disappeared into your room, Hendery stood in the dim kitchen, staring at the spot where you had just been.

He could feel you slipping.

And he wasn’t going to let that happen.

-

Hendery knew he had made a mistake.

That brief moment of frustration—of letting his mask slip—had been careless. You were perceptive, more than he had given you credit for. If he wasn’t careful, you would start pulling away.

And that was something he wouldn’t allow.

So, he did what he did best.

He adjusted.

You weren’t avoiding Hendery, but you weren’t as eager to see him either.

You still liked him—or at least, you thought you did—but the unease hadn’t faded. Something about him lingered in your mind, making you second-guess everything.

But Hendery was patient.

He didn’t push, didn’t question your slight distance. Instead, he was perfect.

He showed up when you needed him, offering you coffee when you looked tired, making you laugh when you were stressed. He was careful not to overstep, not to touch you too much or invade your space.

He gave you exactly what you needed: space to miss him.

And slowly, it worked.

Yangyang noticed.

He saw the way you gradually leaned back into Hendery’s presence, how your wariness seemed to dull.

But he didn’t say anything.

He played his part perfectly unbothered, indifferent, even when it made him sick to his stomach.

What was the point of fighting for something that was already lost?

Besides, if you wanted Hendery, that was your choice.

And yet…

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

The one person who did say something was Ten.

One night, after dance practice, he pulled you aside while the others packed up.

“Are you sure about Hendery?” Ten asked, his voice casual, but his eyes sharp.

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Ten crossed his arms. “I mean… are you sure he’s who you think he is?”

You frowned. “Ten, what are you trying to say?”

Ten sighed, glancing over at Hendery, who was talking to Yangyang. He lowered his voice. “I don’t know, y/n. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me.”

You hesitated.

For a split second, you wanted to tell him. About the weird feeling in your gut, about the way Hendery had touched you at practice, the way his presence sometimes felt too calculated.

But then you remembered the way Hendery had been so sweet lately. So patient.

You shook your head. “I think you’re overreacting.”

Ten didn’t look convinced. “I just… I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I won’t.”

You said it more to convince yourself than him.

Hendery watched the exchange from across the room, keeping his expression neutral.

Ten was becoming a problem.

Unlike Yangyang, who had chosen to stay quiet, Ten was watching.

And Hendery didn’t like being watched.

The final push came a few nights later.

You, Ten, Yangyang, and Hendery were out grabbing food. It was supposed to be a casual night, just you unwinding after a long week.

But Hendery had been waiting for this moment.

They had all been talking about relationships when Ten, ever the troublemaker, turned to you with a smirk.

“So, (Y/N),” he teased. “Who’s your ideal type?”

You groaned. “Why does it matter?”

“Just curious.” Ten sipped his drink. “Come on, humor us.”

You thought for a moment. “I don’t know… someone kind, funny, makes me feel safe.”

Yangyang, who had been silent most of the night, finally spoke. “Safe, huh?”

You looked at him. “Yeah. Why?”

Yangyang shrugged. “Nothing. Just… that’s important.”

Something in his tone made you pause.

But before you could ask, Hendery leaned closer, his voice smooth. “I like that answer.”

You turned to him, slightly flustered. “Yeah?”

He smiled, slow and easy. “Of course. Everyone deserves to feel safe with the person they’re with.”

And just like that, the unease you had felt over the past few days faded.

It was stupid, really.

How could you have doubted Hendery? He had always been there for you. He had never given you a real reason to be wary of him.

Maybe you were overthinking things.

Yangyang, watching the exchange, clenched his jaw but said nothing.

He had seen this before.

Hendery was too smooth, too intentional. He knew exactly what to say, exactly when to say it.

And the worst part?

It was working.

That night, as you lay in bed, you felt warm.

Maybe you had been pushing Hendery away for no reason. Maybe you had let your own fears cloud your judgment.

He had done nothing but prove himself to you.

And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel uneasy thinking about him.

You smiled to yourself, closing your eyes.

-

It started with a few drinks.

Nothing crazy, just another casual night with all of them at the apartment. The four of you had been drinking more often lately—an excuse to unwind, to let loose, to avoid the rising tension that no one wanted to talk about.

But tonight was different.

Because tonight, you weren’t thinking about your unease.

You weren’t thinking about the way Ten had been watching you closely for the past few days. You weren’t thinking about the way Yangyang had become quieter whenever Hendery was around.

No, tonight you were just warm and a little tipsy, and Hendery was right there beside you, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Ten noticed it first.

The way Hendery’s hand brushed against your thigh as they sat together on the couch. The way you, just drunk enough to let go of hesitation, leaned into his touch.

Ten exhaled quietly, swirling his drink in his hand.

Yangyang, sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, was staring at the TV, but Ten knew he saw it too.

Hendery was smooth.

Too smooth.

But was that really something to be worried about?

Ten wasn’t sure.

He had his doubts—something about Hendery felt off, but he couldn’t quite place it.

And maybe it wasn’t his place to say anything.

But still…

He turned to you, keeping his voice casual.

“You sure about this?”

You blinked, looking at him. “What?”

Ten nodded toward Hendery. “Him.”

Hendery’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes darkened just slightly.

You frowned. “What kind of question is that?”

Ten hesitated. “Just making sure.”

Yangyang, still staring at the TV, finally spoke. “Not the time, Ten.”

Ten sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You, exasperated, stood up. “I’m going to bed.”

Hendery gave you a soft smile, standing too. “Want me to stay?”

Yangyang stiffened.

Ten took another sip of his drink, watching your reaction carefully.

You hesitated, just for a second, then nodded. “Yeah.”

And that was that.

The next morning, you woke up to the weight of an arm draped over your waist.

Your head was pounding, and for a split second, you didn’t remember—

Then it hit you.

Last night.

Hendery.

You swallowed, glancing over your shoulder.

He was still asleep, his face calm, his grip around you loose but firm.

You exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling.

It wasn’t that you regretted it.

But something in the back of your mind told you that things had changed.

Ten barely spoke to you the next day.

Neither did Yangyang.

It was suffocating, the weight of unspoken tension between all of them.

Hendery, as always, was perfect. He didn’t press, didn’t cling. He gave you space while still being there, always effortlessly weaving himself into your day.

And maybe that was why you started to feel normal again.

Until the storm hit.

It came out of nowhere.

The snow started light, but by nightfall, it was a full-on blizzard.

The streets were impassable. Roads were shut down. People were warned to stay inside.

You, Ten, and Yangyang were trapped in your apartment.

And Hendery was trapped in his.

At first, it wasn’t a big deal.

They had food, power, and enough distractions to get through a couple of days.

But it was weird—not having Hendery around.

You weren’t sure when you had gotten so used to his presence, but you felt it now, the absence of him.

You texted him that first night.

You: This storm is crazy.

Hendery: I know. Wish I was with you.

You stared at the message for a moment before typing back.

You: Me too.

Across the city, in his darkened apartment, Hendery smiled at his screen.

But his fingers gripped his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He hated this.

Being away from you.

Knowing you were locked in with Ten and Yangyang.

Knowing that, right now, you were probably laughing at one of Yangyang’s jokes.

Or that Ten was still watching you with quiet caution.

Hendery hated them.

But he couldn’t let it show.

Not yet.

Instead, he typed back smoothly.

Hendery: Soon.

The second day of the storm, Ten finally spoke up.

They were in the kitchen, just the two of them, while Yangyang was passed out in the living room.

Ten leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “So, you and Hendery, huh?”

You hesitated. “…Yeah.”

Ten exhaled through his nose. “You really like him?”

You frowned. “Why do you sound skeptical?”

Ten hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

“I just don’t know him that well,” he admitted. “That’s all.”

You studied him, searching his face.

“…You don’t trust him?”

Ten didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he shrugged. “I don’t know. But something about him feels… off.”

You swallowed. “Like what?”

Ten hesitated again.

Finally, he exhaled. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking it.”

You crossed your arms. “I think you are.”

Ten nodded slowly. He wasn’t convinced, but he also wasn’t going to push you.

-

The snowstorm was finally letting up.

After three days of being trapped inside, the roads were beginning to clear a little, and power had been restored in most areas. It wouldn’t be long before things returned to normal.

And for the first time in days, Hendery felt like he could breathe.

It had been agony—knowing you were locked inside with Ten and Yangyang, knowing they had been the ones keeping you company while he had been stuck in his own apartment, waiting.

But now, things were shifting again.

Soon, he’d be back where he belonged—by your side.

And he needed to make sure Ten wasn’t a problem when that happened.

It was late afternoon when Hendery found him.

The storm had finally passed, and Ten had decided to venture out of the apartment for the first time in days, braving the cold to pick up coffee from the café down the street.

Hendery had been waiting for the opportunity.

He caught Ten just as he was leaving, stepping into the café with an easy smile, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Hendery said smoothly.

Ten glanced up from the cup holder he was carrying, his expression unreadable. “Yeah? Guess we both had the same idea.”

Hendery smirked. “That, or fate just really wants us to be friends.”

Ten let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Not sure if I believe in that.”

Hendery took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough. “You don’t like me very much, do you?”

Ten didn’t flinch, didn’t look away.

Instead, he took a sip of his coffee, then exhaled. “I don’t really know you.”

Hendery tilted his head. “And that’s enough to be suspicious of me?”

Ten leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “You’re… intense.”

Hendery chuckled. “That a bad thing?”

Ten studied him for a moment before sighing. “Not necessarily.”

Hendery took that as a win.

So he switched tactics.

Lowered his shoulders, softened his expression.

“I get it,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “You’re protective of her.”

Ten didn’t confirm or deny it.

Hendery exhaled, glancing down. “I like her, Ten. I really do.”

Ten hesitated. “I know.”

Hendery met his gaze again. “I just want to be good to her.”

And that was the thing about Hendery—he knew exactly how to play his cards.

Because that was what Ten wanted to hear.

That was all he really needed to know.

And so, after a long moment, Ten nodded.

“Then be good to her.”

Hendery smiled. “I will.”

That night, you, Ten, and Yangyang decided to finish off the last of your liquor from the other night.

It was the last day of the storm, and despite the tension that had built up over the past few days, they all just wanted to relax.

Yangyang sprawled across the couch, lazily sipping his drink. “Can’t believe we survived this long without killing each other.”

You laughed, nudging his leg with your foot. “Barely.”

Ten smirked, leaning back in his chair. “You two definitely almost killed each other on day two.”

Yangyang scoffed. “Excuse you, I was a delight.”

Ten rolled his eyes, and you giggled, sinking further into the couch.

For the first time in days, things felt… normal.

And maybe it was the alcohol, but you let yourself relax.

They gossiped, reminisced, and laughed more than they had in weeks.

At one point, Yangyang squinted at Ten, lips curling into a smirk. “Alright, serious question.”

Ten raised an eyebrow. “Oh god.”

Yangyang ignored him, turning to you. “Do you really think Ten has a type?”

You, already tipsy, burst out laughing.

Ten groaned. “Here we go.”

Yangyang grinned. “Because I swear, every person he’s liked has been so different.”

You giggled, resting your chin on your palm. “Ten just likes people.”

Ten sighed dramatically. “You’re both insufferable.”

Yangyang shot him finger guns. “We love you, though.”

And for the first time in a while, Ten smiled—really smiled.

Because whatever weird energy had been lingering between all of them lately, this was still the core of it.

This was still them.

And Ten wanted to believe that was enough.

Later that night, when you were curled up in bed, your phone buzzed.

You blinked blearily at the screen.

Hendery.

You hesitated for a second before answering.

“Hey,” you mumbled sleepily.

Hendery’s voice was warm, smooth. “Hey, beautiful. You sound tired.”

You smiled to yourself. “Long day.”

He hummed. “Wish I could’ve spent it with you.”

You sighed, rolling onto your side. “Me too.”

And you meant it.

Because despite how much you had enjoyed tonight, you had missed him.

You heard him sigh on the other end. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

Your heart did a little flip. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he murmured. “Get some sleep.”

You hummed in response, already half-asleep.

-

The storm had passed.

The city was waking up again, streets once buried in snow now buzzing with life. Classes resumed, dance club meetings were back on, and just like that, things were supposed to return to normal.

But it didn’t quite feel like it.

Because the tension in your world was getting heavier by the day.

And at the center of it all stood two people—Yangyang and Hendery.

It started subtly.

Yangyang had never liked Hendery, but he had mostly kept his distance, throwing the occasional sarcastic remark but never outright starting anything.

That changed after the storm.

Now, every interaction between them felt like a silent battle.

It was in the way Yangyang looked whenever Hendery touched you.

The way Hendery’s easy smile turned just a little too sharp whenever Yangyang spoke.

The way Yangyang’s words carried a bite whenever Hendery was around.

And you felt stuck.

Because you knew Hendery had been nothing but good to you.

He was charming, kind, patient—he made you feel wanted in a way no one else had.

But Yangyang…

Yangyang was furious with you.

Not in the way he acted, but in the way he looked at you.

Like you were blind.

And maybe you were.

It all boiled over one evening at the dance studio.

Practice had just ended, and everyone was getting ready to leave when it happened.

You were gathering your things when you heard Yangyang’s voice, low and cold.

“You always hover like that?”

You turned just in time to see him staring Hendery down.

Hendery, as always, looked unbothered, hands in his pockets. “What are you talking about?”

Yangyang scoffed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Hendery chuckled. “You sound paranoid.”

Yangyang took a step closer. “Or maybe I just see you.”

The tension in the room was suffocating.

Your stomach twisted.

You quickly stepped between them. “Stop.”

Yangyang barely glanced at you.

Hendery, however, softened immediately.

His hands came up in mock surrender. “I didn’t mean to start anything.”

Yangyang let out a bitter laugh.

You shot him a glare before turning to Hendery. “Can we talk?”

Hendery nodded easily, his face unreadable.

Yangyang muttered something under his breath, but he turned and left without another word.

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your temples.

You knew this was coming.

And now, you had no choice but to face it.

They sat in Hendery’s car, parked just outside your apartment.

You didn’t know how to start, so you just said it.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship.”

Hendery went completely still.

For the first time since you met him, he didn’t respond immediately.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. “I thought things were going well.”

“They are,” you said quickly. “I just-I feel like things are moving too fast.”

Hendery nodded slowly, looking out the window.

It was the first time you had ever seen him look uncertain.

It made your stomach churn.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmured.

Your heart clenched. “You won’t.”

Hendery turned to you, searching your face. “Then tell me what you need.”

And that was what made this so hard.

Because Hendery always knew exactly what to say.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I just need time.”

Hendery watched you for a moment before nodding.

“Okay,” he said softly.

Just like that.

No argument. No guilt-tripping.

Just… acceptance.

And that made you feel worse.

Because why did it feel like you were hurting him?

“I don’t want to mess this up,” you admitted.

Hendery gave you a small smile. “You won’t.”

And just like that, the tension seemed to ease.

You let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

Hendery reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Anything for you.”

But later that night, when you were asleep in your bed, Hendery sat alone in his apartment, gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.

His mind replayed the conversation over and over again.

She wanted time.

She wasn’t ready.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

Yangyang was getting in her head.

And that pissed him off.

Slowly, he exhaled, forcing himself to relax.

His phone buzzed.

A message from you.

You: Thank you for understanding.

He stared at the message for a long time before typing back.

Hendery: Always

Then he set his phone down, smiling to himself

Because this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

—

Hendery’s obsession was growing.

And the more you pulled back days ago, the tighter he wanted to hold on.

You had asked for space before—but that only made him want you more.

Every time he wasn’t with you, he felt it.

That itch under his skin.

That rage curling in his gut, knowing you were with them.

Knowing Yangyang was still lurking in the background, waiting for him to go away.

But this weekend?

This weekend, Yangyang was gone.

Which meant Hendery had an opening.

Yangyang was out of town for the weekend to visit some friends, leaving only you and Ten at the apartment.

And at first, you had been relieved.

You needed room to breathe, to sort through everything.

You needed distance from the silent war between Yangyang and Hendery, from the growing tension that had been hanging over you like a storm cloud.

But that night Yangyang called you.

It was late, past 2am when your phone rang.

You groggily reached for it, barely registering the caller ID before answering.

“Hello?”

At first, there was silence.

Then a ragged exhale.

“y/n.”

Your brows furrowed. “Yangyang?”

He laughed, but it was hollow. “Yeah.”

Something was wrong.

You could hear it in his voice—the way it wavered slightly, the way his breathing was uneven.

“Are you okay?” you asked, suddenly wide awake.

Another dry laugh. “Nope.”

Your stomach twisted.

You sat up, pressing the phone closer to your ear. “Where are you?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You heard a clink—a bottle against a table.

He was drunk.

“Yangyang—”

“I love you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice raw. “And I fucking hate that I do.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

You gripped the phone tighter. “Yangyang, you’re drunk—”

“I know.” His voice cracked. “And maybe that’s the only reason I can finally say it.”

Your heart pounded.

You felt frozen—like the walls around you were closing in.

But Yangyang wasn’t done.

“And I hate him,” he continued, voice thick with emotion. “I hate Hendery.”

Your stomach dropped. “What?”

“You don’t see it,” Yangyang slurred. “You don’t see him the way I do.”

“Yangyang—”

“I know there’s something wrong with him,” he said, voice desperate. “And I don’t know how to make you see it.”

Your pulse was roaring in your ears.

Your grip on the phone tightened. “I have to go.”

“(Y/N)—”

But you ended the call before he could say anything else.

Your heart was racing.

Your hands trembled.

Your mind was spinning in a thousand different directions.

You needed to think.

And you needed to talk to Ten.

Ten sat across from you at the kitchen table, his brows furrowed as he listened.

When you finished, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling.

“Damn.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Right?”

Ten’s eyes darkened slightly. “I don’t like this.”

You exhaled. “I don’t know what to do.”

Ten was silent for a long moment.

Then, he sighed.

“I don’t think Yangyang is lying.”

You blinked. “You believe him?”

Ten hesitated. “I believe that he believes it.”

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Ten studied you. “Do you think there’s something off about Hendery?”

You opened your mouth—then hesitated.

Because the truth was…

You didn’t know.

There were moments—small ones—where something about Hendery felt off.

But was that real?

Or was it just Yangyang getting in your head?

Ten exhaled. “I think you should trust your gut.”

You pressed your lips together.

Your gut was confused.

But one thing was clear—

You needed space.

That night, you went to the dance studio alone.

You needed time to clear your head, to be alone for a while.

But you weren’t alone.

Because when you walked into the studio, you saw him.

Hendery.

Standing in the middle of the room.

Staring at the mirror.

No—staring at your reflection.

Your stomach twisted.

His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

And just like that, the unease vanished.

Or at least, he made it vanish.

“Hey” he said smoothly, turning to face you.

You hesitated. “Hey.”

He took a step closer.

And for the first time, you took a step back.

Something flickered in his eyes.

But his smile didn’t waver.

“You okay?” he asked.

You inhaled sharply. “I need space.”

Hendery stilled.

For a fraction of a second, his mask slipped.

Then, just as quickly, it was back.

He tilted his head. “Space?”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath. “Yeah.”

Hendery studied you for a long moment.

Then, he smiled.

Soft. Understanding.

And completely calculated.

“Of course,” he murmured.

You felt your muscles relax slightly.

And you walked away.

-

Hendery had a plan.

And it was already in motion.

The Night After You Left the Dance Studio

You told Ten everything.

Every detail—how Hendery had just been there, how he had been staring at your reflection, how his voice had dropped so low that it made your chest tighten.

How when you told him you needed space, he had smiled like it didn’t matter at all.

Like he knew you would come back.

Ten listened carefully, his face serious.

And when you finished, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Okay,” he said. “That was weird as hell.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Right?”

Ten’s eyes darkened slightly. “I don’t like this.”

You exhaled. “I don’t know what to do.”

Ten hesitated, choosing his next words carefully.

“I think you should stay away from him.”

You chewed on your lip.

You wanted to.

But part of you still wondered—was you overreacting?

Were you letting Yangyang’s paranoia get to you?

As if on cue, your phone buzzed.

Yangyang: Just landed. Be home soon.

And just like that, you knew they had to talk.

All of them.

The Three of Them, Together Again

When Yangyang walked through the door, he looked exhausted.

But the second he saw you and Ten sitting on the couch, waiting for him, he knew.

His shoulders tensed. “What happened?”

You didn’t waste time.

You told him everything—about your conversation with Ten, about Hendery at the dance studio, about how off everything felt.

And for the first time in weeks, Yangyang didn’t say “I told you so.”

Instead, he just ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply.

“I hate this,” he muttered.

You frowned. “Hate what?”

Yangyang leaned back against the couch.

“I hate that you’re just now seeing it.”

Your stomach twisted.

Ten sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, we don’t know for sure what’s going on with Hendery, but—”

Yangyang scoffed. “We do know.”

You exchanged a glance with Ten.

Yangyang looked tired.

Like he had been carrying this alone for too long.

And for the first time, you realized—he had.

Yangyang had seen Hendery’s true nature long before you had.

And instead of listening, you had pushed him away.

Guilt settled in your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

Yangyang finally looked at you.

And some of the hardness in his eyes softened.

He sighed, ruffling your hair. “It’s not your fault.”

Ten crossed his arms. “So what now?”

They sat in silence for a moment.

Then you took a deep breath.

“I don’t know.”

Weeks Passed.

No word from Hendery.

It was like he had vanished.

And for a while, you thought maybe—just maybe—it was over.

Maybe he had finally moved on.

Maybe he had taken your request for space seriously.

But what you didn’t know was that Hendery wasn’t gone.

He was planning.

And when he returned, everything would be different.

Hendery’s Plan

Step 1: Give you space. Let you think he was gone.

Step 2: Return when you least expected it.

Step 3: Look perfect.

To you.

To Ten.

To everyone.

Not obviously bad—no, that would be too easy.

He had to be smart about it.

Make Yangyang look unreliable.

Make him look jealous.

Make him look paranoid.

Because if you and Ten started doubting him, it would be over.

And Hendery would win.

When Hendery Returned, things changed again.

It was almost too easy.

He made sure the first time you saw him again, it was an accident.

(At least, that’s what you thought.)

He ran into you on campus, flashing you a soft, almost shy smile.

Like he was hesitant.

Like he didn’t want to push you.

“Hey,” he said, voice light.

You froze. “Hendery.”

He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to see me.”

You swallowed. “I—”

He held up a hand. “It’s okay. I just… I just wanted to say I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

You blinked.

This wasn’t what you expected.

At all.

Hendery sighed, shaking his head. “I guess I got a little too attached.”

Your breath caught.

It was the first time he had ever admitted it.

And somehow, that made it feel… real.

Hendery sighed. “I just miss our friendship, you know?”

You hesitated.

Because hadn’t you missed him, too?

Maybe you had overreacted.

Maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought.

Maybe Yangyang was wrong.

Winning Over Ten

Hendery played it perfectly.

Never too much.

Never too nice—just genuine enough.

He kept his distance at first, only showing up to dance practice, making sure he was always polite, always calm.

Ten took longer to convince.

But Hendery was patient.

He made sure to talk to Ten when you weren’t around—showing interest in things Ten liked, acting like he respected his opinion.

And eventually, Ten let his guard down.

Not completely.

But enough.

Enough for Hendery to get closer again.

Making Yangyang Look Bad

This was the easiest part.

Because Yangyang had already painted himself as the jealous one.

All Hendery had to do was push it.

He made sure to be extra nice to Ten in front of Yangyang.

Made sure to act like he wasn’t bothered by anything.

Like he was just happy to be your friend.

Meanwhile, Yangyang was seething.

And the more Hendery played it cool, the more reckless Yangyang got.

More sarcastic.

More frustrated.

More desperate to prove himself right.

Which only made him look worse.

And you and Ten?

They still loved Yangyang.

But now, there was doubt.

Late one night, Hendery stood outside your apartment.

Watching.

Waiting.

A small smile played on his lips as he listened to the muffled voices inside.

Ten.

Yangyang.

You.

He had already planted the seeds.

Now, he just had to wait for them to grow.

His fingers twitched.

Soon.

Very soon.

Ten had let his guard down.

And Yangyang?

Yangyang was self-destructing.

Everything was falling into place.

But it still wasn’t enough.

Not yet.

Because you still cared about Yangyang.

And that?

That was unacceptable.

The Breaking Point

The tension in the apartment had been thick for weeks.

Yangyang barely spoke to you and Ten unless necessary.

And when he did, it was clipped, short, like he was biting back everything he wanted to say.

Ten, ever the peacekeeper, tried to balance things out.

But you?

You were exhausted.

You missed your best friend.

And you missed before—before everything got messy, before you had to question everything.

But one night, everything snapped.

It was late—well past midnight.

You had just come home from the library, dropping your bag onto the couch with a sigh.

And then—

“You were with him again.”

You turned, startled.

Yangyang was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

Your stomach tightened. “What?”

Yangyang scoffed. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

You swallowed hard. “Yangyang, I—”

“You keep choosing him,” he cut in. “No matter what I say.”

You felt frustration bubble up. “I’m not choosing anyone.”

Yangyang let out a dry laugh. “Yeah? Then why is he winning?”

You stiffened. “Winning?”

Yangyang’s jaw clenched. “That’s what this is to him. A game.”

You inhaled sharply. “Maybe he’s not as bad as we thought.”

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

Yangyang’s eyes darkened.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

“That’s exactly what he wants,” he muttered.

You pressed your lips together. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

Yangyang exhaled, shaking his head.

Then, softer—

“I miss you.”

Your chest tightened.

“I miss you too,” you admitted.

Yangyang hesitated.

Then, carefully, he stepped closer.

“I don’t trust him,” he said, voice low. “And I don’t want to lose you to him.”

You swallowed. “You won’t.”

Yangyang’s gaze searched yours.

And for a moment—just a moment—everything felt okay.

But then—

A knock at the door.

Yangyang froze.

You turned, confused.

And when you opened the door, your breath caught.

Hendery.

Standing there.

Smiling.

Like he knew exactly what had just happened.

Like he had been waiting for this moment.

His voice was smooth, easy.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

Behind you, you felt Yangyang go rigid.

And as Hendery’s eyes flickered past you, locking onto Yangyang, something shifted.

[chuuwey]

I’m currently taking nct requests !! please give me something i need ideas 😣

[chuuwey]

Viola pt. 1

parings: yandere! xiaojun x fem!reader , yangyang x fem! reader, best friend! Ten x fem! reader

genere: angst, thriller, college! au

WARNINGS: 18+!!, stalking, obsessive behavior, manipulation, mentions of alcohol

synopsis : you and your two best friends, Ten and Yangyang, navigate college life in your shared apartment and your shared love for dance. But when the charming and seemingly perfect Xiaojun inserts himself into your world, things take a dark turn. Beneath his warm smile lies an obsessive desire for you. One that grows dangerously intense as your feelings begin shifting toward Yangyang. What you don’t know is that Xiaojun has been watching you all along, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep you close.

You had always loved dancing. It was the one place where you could lose yourself completely, where the stress of college, the expectations, and the constant noise of life faded into the rhythm of music. And you weren’t alone in it. Your best friends, Ten and Yangyang, shared that love with you.

The three of you had been inseparable since freshman year, meeting through your university’s dance club. Living together in a small but cozy apartment near campus, you had spent your days attending classes and your nights practicing choreography. Life was simple, and you liked that.

But lately, you had been feeling something… unsettling. A presence. A weight in the air. Like eyes watching you, following your every move.

One evening, after practice, you finally decided to tell your roommates.

“I feel like someone has been watching me”

Yangyang, who had been scrolling through his phone, looked up instantly. “What? Like a stalker?” His face shifted from playful to serious in seconds.

Ten, sitting cross-legged on the floor stretching his legs, he raised an eyebrow. “You sure? It could just be in your head.”

you sighed. “I don’t know. It just… it feels real. Sometimes I turn around, and I swear I see someone, but then they’re gone. And even when I’m alone, I feel like I’m not.”

Yangyang frowned. “That’s creepy. Do you want me to walk with you to class?”

“I can take care of myself,” you huffed.

Ten leaned back on his hands, thinking. “Maybe someone does have their eyes on you, but that doesn’t mean they have bad intentions. Are you sure it’s not just, like, an admirer?”

you rolled your eyes. “That’s not the point, Ten. It’s making me uncomfortable.”

“Alright, alright,” Ten sighed. “Just… be careful, okay? But if you do see someone sketchy, tell us right away.”

Yangyang nodded in agreement, though you could see he believed you more than Ten did.

Little did they know, you actually were being watched.

By Xiaojun.

—

Xiaojun had first noticed you at the beginning of the semester. You wasn’t just beautiful; you had a presence, a light that made it impossible to look away. He found himself watching you during lectures, in the hallways, and most often, during dance practice.

At first, it was curiosity. Then it became something more.

Possession.

You didn’t know it yet, but you belonged to him.

The only problem? Ten.

Ten was too close to you. Too comfortable, too familiar. Xiaojun had studied your friendship and knew that Ten was the biggest obstacle standing between you and him.

And so, Xiaojun devised a plan.

—

The next week, the dance club held open auditions. Xiaojun joined.

You had no idea why, but the moment he stepped onto the dance floor, something in your stomach twisted a little. He was charming, that was obvious. He introduced himself with a bright smile, his confidence effortless. Even Ten and Yangyang seemed to warm up to him quickly.

And he was good, really good. He moved with a natural ease, his rhythm impeccable. The entire club, including the instructor, was impressed.

You, however, felt unsettled.

But why?

You had seen him around campus before. He had always been in the background, never really someone who stood out to you. But now, he was suddenly everywhere.

—

As weeks passed, Xiaojun ingratiated himself into your friend group seamlessly. He was friendly, funny, and likable. Even Ten, who was usually hard to impress, admitted that Xiaojun was cool.

But Yangyang remained wary.

Yangyang, who was perceptive in ways others weren’t, noticed the way Xiaojun watched you.

And what made Yangyang most uneasy was that Xiaojun had already figured out his secret, his hidden crush on you.

One night, after practice, the two of them were left alone in the studio. Xiaojun leaned against the mirror, watching Yangyang tie his shoes.

“You like her, don’t you?”

Yangyang froze for half a second before forcing a scoff. “What?”

Xiaojun smirked. “Y/N. You like her.”

Yangyang rolled his eyes. “And what if I do?”

“Too bad,” Xiaojun said smoothly. “She’s mine.”

Yangyang scoffed “She’s not anyone’s”

Xiaojun only chuckled, pushing off the mirror. “We’ll see about that.”

—

As the semester went on, you started to let your guard down around Xiaojun. He was always there, supporting you, laughing with you, making you feel seen.

And you hated to admit it, but she liked his attention.

Still, you noticed something strange.

Whenever you were with Ten,Xiaojun would find a way to be there too. He would subtly insert himself into conversations, brush off Ten’s words, and make sure your focus was on him instead.

And then there were the small things.

Like the time you mentioned wanting to try a new café, and Xiaojun just so happened to show up there when you went.

Or the way you felt his gaze on you even when he wasn’t in sight.

Xiaojun hid his true nature well. To you, he was a sweet, reliable friend. To Ten and Yangyang, he was the cool new guy.

But in reality, he was waiting.

Waiting for the perfect moment to make you his.

And if anyone got in his way…

Well, he’d take care of them.

Even if that meant getting rid of your friends.

_

The tension in the apartment was growing thicker by the day, though you didn’t fully realize it.

To you, things seemed fine, normal, even. Classes were the usual mix of stress and exhaustion, dance practice was still the highlight of your day, and your friendship with Xiaojun had only grown stronger.

But to Yangyang, everything was wrong.

Xiaojun was everywhere. Always near you, always charming his way into their group. And worst of all, you seemed to like it.

Yangyang saw the way your eyes lingered on Xiaojun when you thought no one was looking. The way you laughed a little too hard at his jokes, how you leaned just a little closer when he spoke to you.

You liked him.

And it was driving Yangyang insane.

—

Ten, oblivious to the silent war brewing, had the bright idea of hosting a small drinking night at their apartment.

“It’s been forever since we just chilled,” Ten had said, stretching after practice. “We should drink this weekend.”

“I’m down,” you grinned. “It’s been a while.”

Yangyang hesitated for half a second, but then nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Xiaojun, of course, was the first to agree. “Sounds fun.”

That was how the four of you ended up sitting on the living room floor Saturday night, a half-empty bottle of whisky between you, the air thick with alcohol and laughter.

You were flushed from the drinks, your head light and dizzy, but you were happy. You leaned against Ten’s shoulder, giggling at something he said, completely unaware of the way Xiaojun’s gaze darkened for a split second before returning to its usual warmth.

Yangyang, sitting across from them, took a slow sip of his drink, watching the interaction with narrowed eyes.

“You guys are too close,” Xiaojun suddenly said, tilting his head as he looked at you and Ten.

You blinked. “What? No, we’re not.”

Ten smirked, nudging you playfully. “Yeah, you, maybe we should start acting like strangers.”

You laughed, pushing him back. “Shut up.”

But Xiaojun’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Yangyang noticed.

“Are you jealous or something?” Yangyang asked, leaning back on his palms. His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it.

Xiaojun chuckled, shaking his head. “Not at all. I just think it’s interesting.”

The conversation moved on, but Yangyang didn’t forget the look in Xiaojun’s eyes.

—

As the night stretched on, Ten was the first to call it quits.

“I’m so done,” he groaned, flopping onto the couch. “Wake me up in the morning.”

You snorted. “You didn’t even drink that much.”

Ten waved you off, already half-asleep.

Yangyang wasn’t far behind. “I should sleep too,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he pushed himself up. He glanced at you. “You okay?”

You smiled. “Yeah, I’m good. Go sleep.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking between you and Xiaojun.

Something in his gut told him to stay.

But before he could make an excuse, Xiaojun stretched and yawned. “I should head home soon, too.”

Yangyang narrowed his eyes slightly. He didn’t trust it.

Still, he nodded and disappeared into his room.

That left you and Xiaojun alone.

The apartment was quiet now, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the faint sound of Ten’s breathing from the couch.

You sighed, tilting your head back. “I don’t feel like moving.”

Xiaojun chuckled. “Then don’t.”

You turned to look at him. His eyes were soft, his lips curled in an easy smile.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You were drunk. That had to be it.

Xiaojun tilted his head slightly, watching you. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly.

He smirked. “Liar.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest wouldn’t go away.

After a moment, you sighed. “You can stay the night if you want. It’s late.”

Xiaojun raised a brow. “Where would I sleep?”

“…My bed, I guess.”

Xiaojun didn’t hesitate. “Alright.”

—

You should have felt nervous.

But you didn’t.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact that you had started seeing Xiaojun in a different light. Either way, as you lay side by side in your bed, the room dimly lit by your bedside lamp, you found yourself relaxing.

He smelled nice—clean, a little like the cologne he always wore. His presence was warm, steady.

“This is kinda dangerous, you know,” Xiaojun murmured suddenly.

You turned your head to look at him. “What?”

His lips curled into a slow smile. “Letting a guy sleep in your bed.”

You scoffed. “Please. It’s just you.”

His smile didn’t falter, but something flickered in his eyes.

Just me.

You had no idea.

As you drifted off to sleep, Xiaojun lay awake beside you, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

He had waited so long for this.

—

The next morning, you woke up with a headache and a strange sense of unease.

Xiaojun was still asleep beside you, his face relaxed, his breathing even. It should have been harmless. It was harmless. And yet, something about waking up next to him left you feeling… off.

Carefully, you slipped out of bed, making your way to the kitchen where you found Yangyang already awake, nursing a cup of coffee at the counter.

His eyes flicked up as you walked in.

“You good?” he asked, voice groggy.

You nodded, rubbing your temples. “Just hungover.”

Yangyang hummed, watching you carefully. Then, after a pause, he said, “So… Xiaojun slept in your bed last night.”

You stiffened for a split second before shrugging. “Yeah, it was late, and he had nowhere else to sleep.”

Yangyang scoffed softly, setting his mug down. “He could’ve slept on the couch. Or the floor.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why do you care?”

Yangyang’s jaw tensed slightly. “I don’t.”

Lie.

You sighed, deciding to let it go. You were too tired to argue, and honestly, you didn’t even know why it mattered.

But Ten noticed the shift in the air the second he woke up.

—

Over the next few days, things only got worse.

Yangyang was irritated. Xiaojun was always around. He was too smooth, too charming, and the worst part? You were falling for it.

Yangyang saw the way you looked at him, the way you laughed at his stupid jokes, how you seemed comfortable around him.

And it drove him insane.

Ten, being the most observant one in their group, picked up on Yangyang’s tension immediately.

“Dude,” Ten muttered one day, pulling Yangyang aside after practice. “You’ve been acting weird.”

Yangyang rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ten crossed his arms. “You do know. And I know exactly why.”

Yangyang tensed but didn’t say anything.

Ten smirked. “You’re jealous of Xiaojun.”

Yangyang’s expression darkened. “I’m not jealous.”

“Right.” Ten gave him a knowing look. “You’ve been sulking ever since he got close to you.”

Yangyang scoffed, looking away. “He’s just annoying.”

Ten watched him carefully, his smirk fading into something softer. “You like her.”

Silence.

Yangyang exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because she likes him.”

Ten didn’t argue. He could see it, too.

But something about Xiaojun never sat right with him.

—

Then, Xiaojun made his first mistake.

It was a small thing. Something that shouldn’t have even mattered.

But it changed everything.

They were at the dance studio, practicing a new routine. You were struggling with one particular move, getting frustrated every time you messed up.

Xiaojun, ever the perfect guy, walked up behind you and placed his hands on your hips.

“Here, let me help you,” he murmured, guiding your movements.

The moment his hands touched you, you stiffened.

It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable—Xiaojun had always been touchy. But this time, it felt… off.

Forced.

Possessive.

You suddenly became hyperaware of how close he was, of the way his fingers lingered a second too long.

And for the first time since you had started liking him, a bad feeling settled in your stomach.

—

Yangyang saw the shift immediately.

He had been watching the interaction from across the room, arms crossed tightly, jaw clenched. But the moment you pulled away, something inside him settled.

Xiaojun noticed, too.

You laughed it off, making some excuse about needing a break before quickly walking off to the side.

And who was the first person you went to?

Yangyang.

Xiaojun felt his blood boil.

You plopped down beside Yangyang, groaning. “I suck.”

Yangyang raised an eyebrow. “You don’t suck.”

“I can’t get that move right.”

Yangyang nudged your shoulder. “You’ll get it. You always do.”

You glanced at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Thanks, Yangyang.”

Xiaojun clenched his fists.

He hated the way you looked at Yangyang.

Yangyang, who didn’t deserve your attention. Who was nothing but an annoying little brat in his eyes.

And yet, there you were—leaning into him, laughing at his words, completely forgetting about Xiaojun.

He forced a smile, masking the storm brewing inside him.

For now.

—

That night, you couldn’t shake the weird feeling in your gut.

Something about the way Xiaojun had touched you earlier—it wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t right either.

You had never questioned his intentions before. He was Xiaojun, the guy who had been nothing but sweet to you since the day they met.

And yet, the more you thought about it, the more you realized something.

Xiaojun never really gave you space.

He was always there. Always watching, always waiting.

You shook your head, pushing the thought away.

Maybe you were overthinking.

Maybe you just needed to sleep.

Little did you know, you weren’t the only one awake that night.

Xiaojun sat in his room, staring at his phone, his jaw clenched as he scrolled through pictures of you.

And one thought consumed him.

He wanted to get rid of Yangyang.

—

You weren’t sure when the shift happened, but it was undeniable now. The excitement you had once felt around Xiaojun had dulled.

You still liked him—at least, you thought you did—but there was something gnawing at you. A subtle discomfort that you couldn’t explain.

It had started small. The way he always seemed to know where you were. The way he conveniently showed up whenever you needed something, like he was waiting for the opportunity. And then there was the way he had touched you during practice—too familiar, too firm.

It wasn’t outright wrong, but it wasn’t right either.

And worst of all? Yangyang had noticed.

—

For the past few days, Yangyang had been acting different.

More annoyed. More present.

If Xiaojun was around, Yangyang made sure he was, too. If Xiaojun made you laugh, Yangyang would say something funnier. If Xiaojun tried to help you during practice, Yangyang would offer first.

And Xiaojun hated it.

Ten noticed it, too.

Sitting in their apartment one evening, Ten casually tossed a chip into his mouth and eyed Yangyang. “So, are you gonna admit you hate Xiaojun, or are we just gonna pretend you don’t?”

Yangyang, who had been scrolling through his phone, didn’t even look up. “I don’t hate him.”

Ten snorted. “Right.”

“I don’t,” Yangyang insisted. “I just don’t like him.”

“Uh-huh. And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that y/n and Xiaojun have been getting close, right?”

Yangyang’s jaw tightened, but he stayed silent.

Ten smirked. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Before Yangyang could respond, the front door opened, and you walked in, looking drained.

“Bad day?” Ten asked.

You groaned, dropping onto the couch. “I don’t know. I just… I feel off.”

Yangyang glanced at you. “Because of Xiaojun?”

You hesitated. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Ten raised an eyebrow. “Did he do something?”

You chewed on your lip. “No, he’s just… I don’t know how to explain it. He hasn’t done anything, but something feels weird.”

Yangyang sat forward, eyes sharpening. “Weird how?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, Yangyang. Just weird.”

Yangyang exchanged a glance with Ten, who gave him a knowing look.

Ten exhaled and stretched. “You need a distraction. Let’s do something fun tonight.”

You smiled slightly. “Like what?”

Yangyang smirked. “Drinks?”

Ten clapped his hands. “Done.”

—

You should have known Xiaojun would show up.

It was never explicitly said, but somehow, he always found out where you were.

You weren’t even surprised when he walked into the bar later that night, greeting you guys with his usual charming grin.

“What a coincidence,” Xiaojun said smoothly, sliding into the booth beside you.

Yangyang tensed. “Yeah. Crazy coincidence.”

Xiaojun ignored him, turning his attention to you. “You look good tonight.”

You gave him a small smile, but something about the compliment felt off. It felt too practiced.

Xiaojun had a way of making everything feel intentional, like he was following a script only he could see.

As the night went on, the drinks kept flowing, but the tension in the booth was suffocating.

Yangyang and Xiaojun were at each other’s throats in the most polite way possible.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance outside of the studio, Yangyang,” Xiaojun mused, twirling his drink in his hand. “Afraid you’ll embarrass yourself?”

Yangyang scoffed. “Please. I don’t need to show off. Unlike some people.”

Xiaojun’s smile was sharp. “Confidence is important in dance. You like confident guys, don’t you?”

You blinked, suddenly pulled into the conversation. “Uh—what?”

Xiaojun leaned closer. “I mean, you like guys who take charge, right? Someone who can lead?”

You hesitated. “I mean… I guess? But—”

“Oh, so that means Yangyang’s out,” Xiaojun teased, smirking.

Yangyang clenched his jaw. “I think she can decide for herself what she likes.”

Xiaojun chuckled, but his fingers tightened around his glass.

Ten, sensing the rising tension, quickly changed the subject, but the damage had been done.

You were paying attention to Yangyang now.

And Xiaojun hated it.

—

Later that night, you all stumbled back to the apartment, still tipsy from the drinks.

Ten crashed onto the couch again, mumbling something about how he was too tired to move.

Xiaojun, as always, lingered.

You stood in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water, when you felt him behind you.

“You should go to bed,” he murmured.

You turned to face him, leaning against the counter. “I will.”

He smiled, stepping closer. “I could stay again, if you want.”

You hesitated.

A few days ago, you wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But now… something felt different.

You forced a small smile. “I think I’ll be okay.”

For the first time, Xiaojun’s mask faltered. It was brief—barely a flicker—but you saw it.

Annoyance.

Possession.

Then, just as quickly, the easy smile returned. “Alright.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding as he stepped back.

But just as you turned to leave, he caught your wrist gently.

“You.”

You looked up at him.

Xiaojun’s eyes were soft, but there was something unreadable behind them. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

Your stomach twisted. “…Yeah.”

He smiled. “Good.”

Then he let go.

You walked past him without another word.

But as you disappeared into your room, Xiaojun stood in the dim kitchen, staring at the spot where you had just been.

He could feel you slipping.

And he wasn’t going to let that happen.

—

Xiaojun knew he had made a mistake.

That brief moment of frustration—of letting his mask slip—had been careless. You were perceptive, more than he had given you credit for. If he wasn’t careful, you would start pulling away.

And that was something he wouldn’t allow.

So, he did what he did best.

He adjusted.

—

You weren’t avoiding Xiaojun, but you weren’t as eager to see him either.

You still liked him—or at least, you thought you did—but the unease hadn’t faded. Something about him lingered in your mind, making you second-guess everything.

But Xiaojun was patient.

He didn’t push, didn’t question your slight distance. Instead, he was perfect.

He showed up when you needed him—offering you coffee when you looked tired, making you laugh when you were stressed. He was careful not to overstep, not to touch you too much or invade your space.

He gave you exactly what you needed: space to miss him.

And slowly, it worked.

—

Yangyang noticed.

He saw the way you gradually leaned back into Xiaojun’s presence, how your wariness seemed to dull.

But he didn’t say anything.

He played his part perfectly—unbothered, indifferent, even when it made him sick to his stomach.

What was the point of fighting for something that was already lost?

Besides, if you wanted Xiaojun, that was your choice.

And yet…

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

—

The one person who did say something was Ten.

One night, after dance practice, he pulled you aside while the others packed up.

“Are you sure about Xiaojun?” Ten asked, his voice casual, but his eyes sharp.

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Ten crossed his arms. “I mean… are you sure he’s who you think he is?”

You frowned. “Ten, what are you trying to say?”

Ten sighed, glancing over at Xiaojun, who was talking to Yangyang. He lowered his voice. “I don’t know, y/n. Something about him doesn’t sit right with me.”

You hesitated.

For a split second, you wanted to tell him. About the weird feeling in your gut, about the way Xiaojun had touched you at practice, the way his presence sometimes felt too calculated.

But then you remembered the way Xiaojun had been so sweet lately. So patient.

You shook your head. “I think you’re overreacting.”

Ten didn’t look convinced. “I just… I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I won’t.”

You said it more to convince yourself than him.

—

Xiaojun watched the exchange from across the room, keeping his expression neutral.

Ten was becoming a problem.

Unlike Yangyang, who had chosen to stay quiet, Ten was watching.

And Xiaojun didn’t like being watched.

—

The final push came a few nights later.

You, Ten, Yangyang, and Xiaojun were out grabbing food. It was supposed to be a casual night, just them unwinding after a long week.

But Xiaojun had been waiting for this moment.

They had all been talking about relationships when Ten, ever the troublemaker, turned to you with a smirk.

“So, you,” he teased. “Who’s your ideal type?”

You groaned. “Why does it matter?”

“Just curious.” Ten sipped his drink. “Come on, humor us.”

You thought for a moment. “I don’t know… someone kind, funny, makes me feel safe.”

Yangyang, who had been silent most of the night, finally spoke. “Safe, huh?”

You looked at him. “Yeah. Why?”

Yangyang shrugged. “Nothing. Just… that’s important.”

Something in his tone made you pause.

But before you could ask, Xiaojun leaned closer, his voice smooth. “I like that answer.”

You turned to him, slightly flustered. “Yeah?”

He smiled, slow and easy. “Of course. Everyone deserves to feel safe with the person they’re with.”

And just like that, the unease you had felt over the past few days faded.

It was stupid, really.

How could you have doubted Xiaojun? He had always been there for you. He had never given you a real reason to be wary of him.

Maybe you were overthinking things.

Yangyang, watching the exchange, clenched his jaw but said nothing.

He had seen this before.

Xiaojun was too smooth, too intentional. He knew exactly what to say, exactly when to say it.

And the worst part?

It was working.

—

That night, as you lay in bed, you felt warm.

Maybe you had been pushing Xiaojun away for no reason. Maybe you had let your own fears cloud your judgment.

He had done nothing but prove himself to you.

And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel uneasy thinking about him.

You smiled to yourself, closing your eyes.

—

It started with a few drinks.

Nothing crazy, just another casual night with all of them at the apartment. The four of them had been drinking more often lately—an excuse to unwind, to let loose, to avoid the rising tension that no one wanted to talk about.

But tonight was different.

Because tonight, you weren’t thinking about your unease.

You weren’t thinking about the way Ten had been watching you closely for the past few days. You weren’t thinking about the way Yangyang had become quieter whenever Xiaojun was around.

No, tonight you were just warm and a little tipsy, and Xiaojun was right there beside you, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

—

Ten noticed it first.

The way Xiaojun’s hand brushed against your thigh as they sat together on the couch. The way you, just drunk enough to let go of hesitation, leaned into his touch.

Ten exhaled quietly, swirling his drink in his hand.

Yangyang, sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, was staring at the TV, but Ten knew he saw it too.

Xiaojun was smooth.

Too smooth.

But was that really something to be worried about?

Ten wasn’t sure.

He had his doubts—something about Xiaojun felt off, but he couldn’t quite place it.

And maybe it wasn’t his place to say anything.

But still…

He turned to you, keeping his voice casual.

“You sure about this?”

You blinked, looking at him. “What?”

Ten nodded toward Xiaojun. “Him.”

Xiaojun’s smile didn’t falter, but his eyes darkened just slightly.

You frowned. “What kind of question is that?”

Ten hesitated. “Just making sure.”

Yangyang, still staring at the TV, finally spoke. “Not the time, Ten.”

Ten sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You, exasperated, stood up. “I’m going to bed.”

Xiaojun gave you a soft smile, standing too. “Want me to stay?”

Yangyang stiffened.

Ten took another sip of his drink, watching your reaction carefully.

You hesitated, just for a second, then nodded. “Yeah.”

And that was that.

—

The next morning, you woke up to the weight of an arm draped over your waist.

Your head was pounding, and for a split second, you didn’t remember—

Then it hit you.

Last night.

Xiaojun.

You swallowed, glancing over your shoulder.

He was still asleep, his face calm, his grip around you loose but firm.

You exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling.

It wasn’t that you regretted it.

But something in the back of your mind told you that things had changed.

—

Ten barely spoke to you the next day.

Neither did Yangyang.

It was suffocating, the weight of unspoken tension between all of you.

Xiaojun, as always, was perfect. He didn’t press, didn’t cling. He gave you space while still being there, always effortlessly weaving himself into your day.

And maybe that was why you started to feel normal again.

Until the storm hit.

—

It came out of nowhere.

The snow started light, but by nightfall, it was a full-on blizzard.

The streets were impassable. Roads were shut down. People were warned to stay inside.

You, Ten, and Yangyang were trapped in your apartment.

And Xiaojun was trapped in his.

—

At first, it wasn’t a big deal.

You had food, power, and enough distractions to get through a couple of days.

But it was weird—not having Xiaojun around.

You weren’t sure when you had gotten so used to his presence, but you felt it now, the absence of him.

You texted him that first night.

You: This storm is crazy.

Xiaojun: I know. Wish I was with you.

You stared at the message for a moment before typing back.

You: Me too.

Across the city, in his darkened apartment, Xiaojun smiled at his screen.

But his fingers gripped his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He hated this.

Being away from you.

Knowing you were locked in with Ten and Yangyang.

Knowing that, right now, you were probably laughing at one of Yangyang’s jokes.

Or that Ten was still watching you with quiet caution.

Xiaojun hated them.

But he couldn’t let it show.

Not yet.

Instead, he typed back smoothly.

Xiaojun: Soon.

—

The second day of the storm, Ten finally spoke up.

They were in the kitchen, just the two of them, while Yangyang was passed out in the living room.

Ten leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “So, you and Xiaojun, huh?”

You hesitated. “…Yeah.”

Ten exhaled through his nose. “You really like him?”

You frowned. “Why do you sound skeptical?”

Ten hesitated, choosing his words carefully.

“I just don’t know him that well,” he admitted. “That’s all.”

You studied him, searching his face.

“…You don’t trust him?”

Ten didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he shrugged. “I don’t know. But something about him feels… off.”

You swallowed. “Like what?”

Ten hesitated again.

Finally, he exhaled. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking it.”

You crossed your arms. “I think you are.”

Ten nodded slowly. He wasn’t convinced, but he also wasn’t going to push you.

Not yet.

Before either of them could say anything else, the lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then, the entire apartment plunged into darkness.

—

Across the city, Xiaojun sat in his darkened apartment, staring out the window at the endless white.

His phone buzzed in his hand.

A message from you.

You: The power just went out.

Xiaojun’s lips curled into a slow smile.

[chuuwey]

What do i do

Parings: best friend yuta x fem reader, slight johnny x fem reader

Genre: friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst

warnings: none

word count: 1.3k

authors note: i am going to being making this into 2 parts, i kinda wanna do a choose your own ending type of deal. let me know if you would wanna see that :)

synopsis: you and yuta are childhood best friends, he gets this weird feeling when you start bringing up a customer from work

You and Yuta had been best friends for as long as you could remember. Your mothers had been inseparable since childhood, and that closeness had naturally passed down to you. You knew everything about each other—the little quirks, the shared memories, the secrets that no one else could understand. Over time, that bond had evolved from childhood friendship to something deeper. When the time came for you to move out of your mom’s house, you and Yuta had decided to take the leap together, finding a cozy two-bedroom apartment in the heart of the city. It made sense; you were already practically family.

Yuta had always been passionate about music. He’d been in a rock band since high school with a group of friends, and recently, they’d gained some serious attention after a celebrity posted one of their songs on social media. Things were looking up for him, and he was determined to ride the wave as far as it could go. You, on the other hand, worked at a popular local restaurant as a waitress. It wasn’t glamorous, but you loved it. There was something oddly satisfying about observing people, creating little stories in your head about who they were, and the tips weren’t bad either. Your confidence and outspokenness made you popular with customers, and you always seemed to be able to make people smile—some even found your charm irresistible.

It was there at the restaurant that you met Johnny.

Johnny was a YouTuber who’d recently started coming into your section regularly. At first, he was just another customer, but something about him made him stand out. He was tall, easygoing, and undeniably good-looking. He made a habit of sitting in your section, always finding a way to strike up a conversation. He was definitely a flirt, but you didn’t mind—it was fun. Besides, you were pretty sure he was just being friendly, and you appreciated his company.

One evening, after your shift, you and Yuta were lounging on the couch, chatting about your days, when you casually mentioned Johnny.

“He’s a YouTuber, did you know that?” you asked, scrolling through your phone and glancing up at Yuta.

“Yeah… never heard of him, though.” Yuta’s response was neutral, but there was something about the way his voice lingered at the end of the sentence that made you raise an eyebrow.

You chuckled. “Well, I think he’s cute.”

Yuta stiffened slightly, his eyes flicking to you as though he were trying to gauge your tone. He said nothing, but you could sense the faint shift in the atmosphere. He’d always been a little protective of you, maybe more than you realized, but you didn’t think much of it. You were best friends, and he had always been there for you, watching out for you. It was just his way.

After a few more minutes of chatting, you excused yourself to your room, eager to relax for the night. As you flopped down on your bed and unlocked your phone, a notification popped up on your screen: *johnnyjsuh followed you*.

Your heart skipped a beat. *How did he find my Instagram?* you wondered, staring at the screen. A small flutter of excitement danced in your chest. You couldn’t help but smile, biting your lip as you pondered the sudden development. You weren’t quite sure why Johnny followed you—it could’ve been random, or maybe it was a sign of something more, but you couldn’t help feeling flattered.

Meanwhile, Yuta had been on the other side of the apartment, trying to shake the strange feeling that had settled in his chest after hearing about Johnny. He didn’t know why, but the thought of the YouTuber being around you so much bothered him more than it should. It wasn’t like he could control who you spent time with, but the thought of Johnny—flirty, charming, and clearly interested in you—stirred something inside him. He quickly brushed it off, focusing on his music and not wanting to seem possessive. After all, you were just friends, right?

The next day, Johnny was back at the restaurant. He greeted you with a big grin as soon as he saw you walk through the door. "Hey, Y/N," he said, flashing that trademark smile of his. "I was hoping you'd be my server again today."

You laughed, already used to his playful demeanor. "Well, I am here, aren’t I?" you teased, leading him to his usual table. As you took his order, your banter flowed easily, and you couldn’t help but notice how his attention was always fully on you—his smile never faltering, his eyes always locked on yours. Johnny was certainly a flirt, but you just assumed it was part of his personality. He was friendly with everyone, right? You didn’t think he saw you as anything other than a good friend.

As you continued to serve him, you couldn’t ignore the occasional glance you caught from the corner of your eye. Yuta had been sitting at the bar, sipping on his drink, but his gaze was fixed on you. The moment your eyes met, Yuta quickly looked away, focusing on his phone as though he hadn’t been watching. You didn’t think much of it. Yuta was just being Yuta—he was always a little distant when Johnny was around, but it wasn’t like you and Johnny had anything to hide.

After your shift, you got a message from Johnny: *Hey, you free later? We should hang out sometime outside of work.*

You smiled at the message, feeling a little warmth in your chest. You liked Johnny—he was fun, charismatic, and easy to talk to. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was more interested in being friends. You had a good rapport, and you thought you’d get along even better outside of the restaurant. It was nothing more than that, right?

But as you replied, Yuta happened to overhear you. He didn’t mean to, but the moment he caught wind of the conversation, he felt a tightening in his chest again. He wanted to say something, to ask you if you were sure about spending time with Johnny. But he didn’t. Instead, he kept quiet, pretending to scroll through his phone, but his mind was far from the screen. He knew he couldn’t stop you from having fun with your friends—you weren’t the overprotective kid you once were, right?

Later that evening, you were scrolling through your social media when another notification popped up: *johnnyjsuh liked your post.*

This time, there was no denying that Johnny’s interest seemed a little more than friendly. The thought made you smile softly. But you were still oblivious to the growing attraction he had for you. Johnny had always been a flirt, so maybe that was just the way he was. Maybe he liked you as a friend. Or maybe… *maybe* he was just being nice. You didn’t know what to make of it, and honestly, you didn’t think too much about it.

Meanwhile, Yuta was once again caught in his thoughts. He’d never been good at talking about his feelings, especially when it came to you. He cared for you, maybe more than he wanted to admit, but seeing you with Johnny made him feel something he couldn’t quite put into words.

One thing was clear though—Yuta knew, even if he didn’t show it, that he didn’t want to let you go. But how could he tell you that when you were so focused on the world around you, unaware of how he felt? He wasn’t sure.

And so, the days passed. You continued your routine at the restaurant, exchanging flirty banter with Johnny, laughing with Yuta, and living your life. But all the while, two different worlds were quietly forming around you—one with Johnny, full of excitement and possibility, and one with Yuta, full of quiet moments and unspoken emotions. Neither of them knew it, but you were at the center of both, oblivious to the way your presence was affecting them both more than you realized.

[chuuwey]

Hiii! I saw that you're taking NCT requests! :D What about shy girl reader x Jisung? Where she has a big crush on him and has been pining a lot, and she does something special to confess to him. Would love to see something loveful like this! Thank you so much. Welcome back to Tumblr!

hiii, it’s posted ! sorry it it a while, i hope you enjoy ! :D

[chuuwey]

Your Apartment

Genere: fluff

theme: neighbors to lovers

parings: Jisung x shy fem reader , best friend Renjun x fem reader

warnings: none

authors note: this was requested, i hope you enjoy :D

You had always been the quiet one, blending into the background of your city apartment building. But you had a secret—you’d been having the biggest crush on your neighbor, Jisung, since the moment you first saw him. He had so much going on: charming, easygoing, and always quick with a laugh. Every time you ran into each other in the elevator or the laundry room, you’d freeze up, heart pounding, unable to get past a simple “hi.”

Your best friend Renjun, on the other hand, was your polar opposite—outgoing, a little dramatic, and never afraid to stir things up. When you finally broke down and told him about her massive crush on Jisung over coffee, Renjun practically choked on his drink.

“You mean Jisung from 12B? The tall, goofy one with the cute smile? You’ve been holding this in the whole time?!”

You nodded, cheeks flaming. “What was I supposed to do? Walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, I’ve been awkwardly pining for you for months’?”

Renjun rolled his eyes and leaned forward. “No, but you’re not going to sit here and do nothing. You’ve got to make a move. Bake him cookies, write a note, I don’t care—just do something!”

That’s how you found yourself standing in the lobby a few days later, holding a plate of still-warm cookies and silently praying you didn’t look as nervous as you felt. Just as you were about to bail, the elevator doors opened, and there he was. Jisung, with his signature smile and messy hair, stepping out like it was a scene from a rom-com.

“Oh, hey, Y/N!” he greeted you casually, not knowing that your heart was in full meltdown mode.

“H-Hi! I, uh…” you shoved the plate toward him. “I made these for you. I mean, not for you—okay, kind of for you. I just thought you might like them.”

Jisung blinked, clearly surprised, before his face broke into the warmest smile you’d ever seen. “Wow, thanks! That’s so nice of you. These look amazing.”

He stayed and chatted with you right there in the lobby, asking about your day and cracking a few jokes that made you laugh so hard you forgot how nervous you’d been. For the first time, it felt easy, like you weren’t just two neighbors exchanging polite hellos.

Over the next few weeks, things shifted. Jisung started texting you little things like, “Thanks again for the cookies, they were so good! ” or “Hey, want to grab coffee later?” And just like that, you went from awkward elevator greetings to spending time together.

One night, you both ended up on the rooftop of your building, looking out at the city lights. You could feel your pulse racing as you debated whether to say something. Renjun’s words echoed in your head: *“You’ve got to make a move.”*

So you did.

“Jisung,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “I like you. Like… a lot. You’re kind, funny, and you make me feel like I can actually be myself. I’ve felt this way for a while now, but I’ve been too scared to tell you.”

For a second, you thought you had messed up. Jisung just stared at you, his expression unreadable. But then, he smiled, soft and sincere and said, “You’re kidding, right? Y/N, I’ve had a crush on you since, like, forever. You’re amazing.”

From that moment on, things just clicked. You started spending more time together, whether it was exploring the city, binge-watching you’re favorite shows, or just hanging out in the lobby where it all began. Jisung made you feel seen in a way no one else ever had, and you finally let go of the shyness that had held you back for so long.

And Renjun? He never let you forget he was the one who pushed you to make a move. “I expect a toast at your wedding,” he teased one day.

You just laughed, knowing that, somehow, everything had fallen into place.

[chuuwey]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ꈍ⠀⁺⠀⠀⠀⠀✿⠀⠀⠀⠀𝒸all⠀me⠀crazy ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ @h-yeoni ⠀⠀︵︵⠀⠀˚ ₊⠀♡ ⠀⠀>︿<

[chuuwey]

welcome back <3 give my some sicheng <3

Thank you! <3 it’s posted i hope you like it! 😣

[chuuwey]

Woman

- title inspired by Woman - Harry Styles

☕️ paring: Sicheng x Reader

genere:angst, fluff

☕️ theme: enemies to lovers

☕️ word count: 1.5k

☕️ authors note: requested sicheng x reader, i hope you enjoy !

It all started on the first day of your junior year of college. You and your best friend Jungwoo had just enough time to grab coffee before your calculus class, but the line held you up. By the time you arrived, most of the seats in the back of the classroom were taken, but there were still three empty spots. You took one, relieved there was at least some space in the back.

As class began, a guy walked in and sat next to you. He was undeniably handsome, and when he caught you staring, you quickly looked away, offering a smile to ease the awkwardness. “Hi, I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself politely. He glanced at you briefly but didn’t respond, then turned away. I guess I shouldn’t distract him, you thought.

After the professor went over the course structure, she gave everyone free time. The guy turned to you and said, “Sorry about earlier. I’m Sicheng. Nice to meet you.” He smiled. You two ended up talking for the rest of the period, completely unaware that most of the class had already left. Flirting slipped into the conversation, and by the time the bell rang, you and Sicheng were casually walking together.

You spotted Jungwoo and waved. “Hey, Jungwoo!” you called out. He walked over and introduced himself to Sicheng.

“This is Jungwoo, my good friend,” you said.

“I see that,” Sicheng replied, smiling.

“Oh! We have photography together next,” you added, remembering the schedule.

Jungwoo nodded. “I’ll leave you guys to it. It was nice meeting you, Y/N.”

“It was nice meeting you—” you started, but he was already walking off before you could finish.

“Okay then,” Jungwoo said, sounding amused.

A month passed.

The teasing began subtly. In calculus, Sicheng would make snide remarks whenever you mentioned mundane things, like what you did that weekend. It escalated to jabs at you and Jungwoo whenever you brought him up, which eventually drove you to silence.

Unfortunately, Jungwoo couldn't always escort you between classes, as his were scattered across campus. Sicheng seized these opportunities to harass you. Today, you were excited, having just gotten a haircut the day before. As you walked to meet Jungwoo for photography, Sicheng approached. Despite your attempts to ignore him—walking quickly with your AirPods in—he persisted. He stopped directly in front of you, blocking your path. "Why does your hair look like that?" he asked.

Unable to hear him, you glanced at him and tried to walk around him, but he blocked you again. He gently removed an AirPod from your ear and repeated, "I said, why does your hair look like that?" You gave him a sideways look and rolled your eyes. "Leave me alone," you said, snatching your AirPod back. As you walked away, you muttered, "asshole," with another eye roll.

"What did you just call me?" Sicheng yelled, causing you to turn back. He was furious. "You think you can just talk to me like that over a simple fucking question?" You were taken aback. You knew his comment about your hair was a veiled insult, and now he was acting indignant? The audacity. "Jesus, Sicheng, calm fuck down!" you retorted.

The two of you were creating a scene, drawing unwanted attention. Thankfully, Jungwoo arrived just in time. "Yeah, okay, Y/N , let's go," he said, quickly walking up to you. Sicheng glared at Jungwoo but remained silent.

After classes, you and Jungwoo hung out at your apartment. "Sicheng has so much nerve acting like that. I don't understand what I ever did to him," you ranted.

"Speaking of Sicheng…" Jungwoo began, "I have something to tell you, but promise you won't get mad, Y/N," he said, taking your hand.

"Um, okay? Jungwoo, you're scaring me," you said, laughing nervously.

"So… my friend Hendery from World History invited me to a party tomorrow night…" Jungwoo said, looking up at you from his seat on the kitchen island while you stood.

"And…?" you prompted enthusiastically.

"And he said I could bring a plus one… but… Sicheng is one of his roommates… But please, Y/N, come with me! I really want to go with you!" Jungwoo pleaded.

"Ugh, I can't stand him, and…" you paused, considering. "Whatever. I love you too much to say no," you finally said, and Jungwoo beamed.

"Thank you, Y/N! I love you more!"

Friday arrived with surprising fast, and suddenly, you found yourself getting ready with Jungwoo for a party you were on the fence about. As you dressed, your thoughts kept drifting to Sicheng. You remembered how charming and sweet he’d been when you first met, a stark contrast to his subsequent behavior. Yet, despite the complete turnaround, something about him continued to draw you in, creating a frustrating internal conflict.

“Why are you so quiet, y/n?” Jungwoo asked, breaking through your reverie. You’d been staring blankly into space, perched on the edge of your bed.

“Sicheng, unfortunately,” you replied with a sigh.

“Looks like someone’s got a little crush,” Jungwoo teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

“I do not!” you retorted, instantly defensive. Did you find him cute? Definitely. But a crush? You didn’t want to delve into that territory.

“I knew it! The defensiveness gives it away! You like himmm!” Jungwoo exclaimed triumphantly. “Y/n, you should talk to him tonight. I bet he likes you too… and I bet—”

“Not happening,” you interrupted firmly.

“Whatever, I’m calling it, though,” Jungwoo muttered, unconvinced.

Once you arrived at the party, you stayed close to Jungwoo’s side, feeling a bit out of your element. “Shots?” a voice called from behind. You and Jungwoo turned to Hendery, holding a bottle.

“Yes, please,” Jungwoo readily accepted. You decided to go along with it, and the two of you followed Hendery to the kitchen, where he began pouring. A small crowd had gathered, eager for a drink. As you glanced around the room, your eyes landed on Sicheng. You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. Once the shots were poured, Sicheng and a group of his friends joined the others at the kitchen island. After taking your shot, you glanced up and found Sicheng looking directly at you. You tried to ignore it, but he maintained his stare for what felt like an eternity. You nudged Jungwoo and pointed it out, earning a whispered, “Told you so,” and a knowing smile. You rolled your eyes and giggled softly. “I don’t know about that,” you murmured.

After a few rounds of shots, Jungwoo and Hendery wandered off, drawn into conversations with other partygoers. They were far more social than you tended to be, but you didn’t mind too much, especially since Sicheng and his friends had vacated the kitchen. After a while, you decided to find a place to sit. Spotting Jungwoo in the hallway chatting with Hendery and Ten, another student from your campus, you opted for the nearby couch. As you settled onto the cushions, you could feel the effects of the shots, a pleasant warmth that eased your usual tension. You closed your eyes, listening to the music, and when you opened them again, you found someone had sat down beside you. It was Sicheng.

“Hey…” he said softly. What is going on? you thought, your heart suddenly picking up its pace.

“Hey… what?” you replied, a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice. Why was he acting like this?

“So, um, Jungwoo kind of talked to me a bit,” he admitted, sounding slightly hesitant.

“He did?!” you exclaimed, genuinely surprised.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry I treated you the way I did. When we first met, I was really interested in you. But when you introduced me to Jungwoo, I just felt insecure and assumed you two were together. I don’t know what I was thinking. I should have never acted that way, and I’m truly sorry for everything I said.”

You were taken aback by his sincere apology. “Sicheng, I don’t know what to say…” you stammered.

A brief silence hung in the air before you spoke again. “You know, you could’ve just asked me about him instead of acting like that.”

“I know, and I apologize,” he repeated. “We barely knew each other, and I just got in over my head. I was being insecure.” He looked incredibly handsome in the soft lighting, a thought that unexpectedly crossed your mind.

“You know, Sicheng… I don’t know if it’s the shots we just took or what, but you look kind of cute in this lighting,” you blurted out, instantly regretting your impulsive words. Oh no, what did I just say?

“Oh, do I?” Sicheng replied, a playful giggle escaping his lips.

From that point on, the conversation flowed easily, the tension between you two finally dissipating. After over an hour of talking, Jungwoo finally found you on the couch.

“Oh, heyyy you twoooo,” Jungwoo slurred, grinning widely.

“Jungwoo, oh my god, you’re drunk,” you said, giggling. “Time to get you home.” You stood up, and Sicheng followed suit.

“Do you guys need a ride home?” Sicheng offered.

“Yes, please. This man cannot hold himself,” you said, placing an arm around Jungwoo’s shoulders as Sicheng mirrored your action on his other side. The three of you walked to where Sicheng’s roommate, Kun, was waiting; he was the designated driver for the night.

“Thank you, Sicheng, I appreciate it. Have a good night,” you said with a genuine smile.

“You too, y/n,” he replied, returning your smile.

[chuuwey]

i’m back after 4 years i suppose

[chuuwey]

currently taking nct requests! i’ll write anything go crazy

[chuuwey]

[chuuwey]

johnny & mark and their sibling energy

[chuuwey]

*:･ﾟ✧ 𝚒’𝚖 𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞