mybl--dyvalentine

[mybl--dyvalentine]

this changed my brain chemistry

no homo

top!park jongseong x btm!male reader smut

Jay is your “straight” frat roommate, and a walking headache. one night, Y/n’s just trying to sleep, but Jay stumbles in drunk from another party. things get loud. and messy.

warnings: dubcon, power dynamics, degrading, rough sex, unprotected sex, drugs use, masturbation, drunk sex, mention of public sex, use of f slur.

In Isla Vista, you didn’t have to look for a party — the party found you. On any given night, half the houses on Del Playa had music spilling out their doors, beer bottles stacked on porch railings, and people drifting in and out like the tide. The air always smelled faintly of salt, weed, and something sizzling on a grill. Even if it was a Tuesday, someone was celebrating something — a midterm being over, a midterm being postponed, or just the fact that the ocean was five minutes away and the beer run was successful. Days bled into nights, nights into mornings, and the cycle never really stopped.

Y/n hadn’t come here chasing that. At first, Isla Vista was just the cheapest option close enough to campus that he could bike to class without killing his legs. He’d been looking for a sublet when a friend of a friend mentioned an open room in one of the bigger houses on Sabado Tarde — “a frat house, kind of, but not official” — which basically meant no dues, no formal pledging, and no one cared if you weren’t in the actual Greek system. Rent was cheap, the beach was two blocks away, and he didn’t have to share a room with three other guys. That was enough for him.

He fit in without much effort. He wasn’t the loudest at the parties, but he was there often enough to be familiar — leaning against the kitchen counter with a drink, posted up on the porch with a beer in one hand, chatting with whoever drifted by. He wasn’t shy, but he wasn’t trying to be the center of attention either. And as for who he went home with, that was nobody’s business but his. He didn’t hide the fact that he was into both guys and girls; he just didn’t go around explaining it. If someone was hot and the vibe was right, that was reason enough.

Most of the house was a rotating cast of half-strangers and close friends, but his roommate was Jay — the kind of guy who could make friends in line at the liquor store and have them show up to the house party that same night. Jay was loud, perpetually wearing a backwards cap. He treated everything like a joke, especially when it came to Y/n, and somehow always managed to get under his skin without crossing the line.

Jay was a different breed of Isla Vista frat boy. Not the type to wake up early for surf, not even the type to pretend he had a morning routine. He was more about late nights with a blunt in one hand and a beer in the other, disappearing into a crowd of people you swore you’d never seen before, only to reappear in the kitchen with a whole pizza he didn’t pay for. His parents had money — the kind of money that meant rent was a formality and “broke” meant his Venmo transfer was taking longer than usual. It showed in small ways: the watch he “forgot” to take off before beer pong, the sneakers that cost more than Y/n’s monthly groceries, the fact that his mini fridge was always stocked with brand-name drinks.

Living with Jay meant you were never really off the clock socially. Even on the rare nights the house wasn’t packed, he’d wander into Y/n’s space just to start a conversation, throw a Nerf dart at him, or flop down on his bed like it was his own. He called Y/n “bro” like it was a comma and talked like he was narrating a reality show, always halfway between a joke and a dare.

Y/n didn’t exactly encourage him, but he didn’t shut him down either. There was an ease to their back-and-forth — Y/n with his quieter, steadier presence, and Jay with his constant need to push, tease, get a reaction. They shared the kind of unspoken rule that if one of them brought someone home, the other would make himself scarce without asking questions. And if they ended up at the same party, there was always that half-smirk of acknowledgment across the room, like they were in on something the rest of the house wasn’t.

It wasn’t that they were close, not in the way people usually meant. But in a house full of rotating noise — new faces every month, music rattling the walls — Jay was the one constant Y/n could always count on to be there. Usually shirtless. Usually talking shit.

Everything started as a one-off joke — something Jay tossed out one night after a few too many beers, leaning against Y/n’s doorway with that shit-eating grin he wore when he thought he was being clever. But it didn’t stay a one-time thing. Somewhere along the way, it became part of the rhythm between them, another inside joke in a long list of ones that would make no sense to anyone else. Jay had this habit of pushing the line and then yanking it back with a lazy “no homo,” like a magician’s flourish after a trick. Y/n, for his part, didn’t give him the satisfaction of acting flustered. He just threw it back at him, keeping his voice as steady as if they were talking about the weather — which somehow made Jay double down every time.

It happened in all kinds of ways. Sometimes Jay would wander into their room after a party, half-drunk and smelling faintly of weed, and flop down on Y/n’s bed without warning. “Bro, gimme a kiss for good luck,” he’d mumble, like it was the most normal request in the world. Y/n would snort, shove a pillow in his face, and say something like, “Sure, dude! right after I brush my teeth with bleach.” Other times, they’d be sitting on the couch during a quiet afternoon, some game on the TV neither of them was really watching, and Jay would lean over, way too close, just to whisper, “Bet you’d fold if I actually went for it.” Y/n wouldn’t even look at him — just sip his drink and reply, “Bet you’d miss.”

Even in the middle of bigger gatherings, Jay found ways to slip it in. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder at the kitchen counter during a house party, voices and music blurring around them, he’d nudge Y/n with his elbow and say, “If we made out right now, people would lose their minds.” Y/n would keep his eyes on the beer pong table across the room and answer, “Yeah, from second-hand embarrassment.”

It was a game neither of them had named, but both played like pros. Jay’s goal seemed to be getting Y/n to break, to blush, to stammer — something. But Y/n never did, and maybe that was what kept Jay coming back for more. And underneath all the fake-offended snorts, the lazy comebacks, and the “no homo” disclaimers, there was a weight to it that neither of them acknowledged. Not out loud, anyway.

By the time the sun dipped low over the ocean, the house was already buzzing in that pre-party way — music low but steady, doors opening and closing, the faint hiss of beer cans cracking somewhere down the hall. Y/n sat at his desk with his laptop open, a stack of notes fanned out beside him, highlighter in hand. His midterm was the next morning, the kind of exam you couldn’t bluff your way through, and he’d promised himself he wouldn’t get pulled into whatever chaos the night was about to become. From his window, he could see the street slowly filling with people — girls in oversized sweatshirts and tiny skirts, guys in backwards caps and patterned button-ups, all moving in loose groups toward the sound of bass drifting from somewhere farther down the block. Isla Vista had a way of making every night feel like a Friday.

Jay’s side of the room looked like a hurricane had passed through. Drawers half-open, sneakers scattered in pairs that didn’t match, a hoodie tossed over his desk chair. He was standing in front of the mirror, spritzing cologne like he was trying to fumigate the place, already dressed in his real uniform: athletic shorts, a loose button-up shirt thrown on without bothering to fasten the top half, his gold chain flashing every time he moved. The cap on his head was turned backwards, his hair sticking out just enough to look intentional, and he had that grin — the one that meant he was about to make bad decisions and somehow get away with all of them. “You’re seriously not coming?” he asked, glancing at Y/n’s reflection in the mirror instead of turning around.

Y/n didn’t look up from his notes. “I have a test, man. Like, an actual important one. Can’t exactly show up hungover and smelling like tequila.”

“That’s quitter talk,” Jay said, smirking as he adjusted the brim of his cap. “Come on, just for an hour. Get some air, talk to some girls… or guys, whatever you’re feeling.” The last part came with a pointed look, a deliberate spark in his voice, like he was prodding at one of their ongoing bits.

Y/n only shook his head, flipping to the next page of his textbook. “That’s how you end up failing stats and moving back in with your parents.”

Jay laughed, low and amused, and crossed the room until he was standing right behind Y/n’s chair. He leaned down just enough for Y/n to catch the scent of his cologne over the faint smell of weed that seemed permanently etched into him. “If I bring someone back, you’re cool to disappear for the night, right?”

Y/n’s pen stilled over the page. “We’ll see,” he said after a beat, not quite committing either way.

Jay lingered for a moment, searching his face like he was trying to read something in it, then tapped the brim of his cap in mock salute. “Don’t study too hard, bro. You might start dreaming about me.”

“Nightmare fuel,” Y/n muttered, but there was the faintest trace of a smile under it.

And then Jay was gone, swallowed by the growing noise downstairs, leaving the room quiet except for the hum of Y/n’s laptop and the muffled thump of bass from the street — a reminder that, outside, Isla Vista was just getting started.

The party on Del Playa was already in full swing by the time Jay got there. The living room had been stripped of anything breakable, replaced with two beer pong tables and a speaker big enough to rattle the windows. The air was hot and crowded, smelling like a mix of sweat, perfume, and whatever was burning on the grill out back. He moved through the space like he owned it, nodding to people he half-knew, dapping up guys he’d met once at another party, accepting a red cup from someone without asking what was in it. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular — the night was just another night, the party just another backdrop. But every so often, in the middle of a conversation or a game, his mind drifted back to the room he’d left behind.

It wasn’t that he was worried about Y/n — Y/n could handle himself just fine — but the image of him sitting there with his head bent over a textbook, highlighter in hand, hadn’t left. Something about the stubborn way he’d said “we’ll see” when Jay had asked about disappearing for the night stuck in his head, like a splinter he couldn’t quite shake loose. Maybe it was the challenge in it, or maybe it was just knowing that Y/n wasn’t out here, wasn’t leaning against the kitchen counter trading jokes, wasn’t part of the noise. He caught himself picturing walking back into the room later, Y/n still there, still studying, and it made the beer in his hand taste different — sharper, somehow. He laughed at himself, shook it off, and went back to the game. Still, the thought kept circling.

Across town — though in Isla Vista “across town” meant a five-minute walk — Y/n was hunched over his desk, pen in hand, eyes scanning the same line of notes for the third time. The muffled bass from the street below throbbed through the walls, a reminder that the world outside was still moving, still loud. His phone lit up every now and then — group chat messages, Instagram notifications, someone asking if he was coming out tonight — but he ignored them all. His focus was razor sharp, not because the material was thrilling, but because he knew exactly what was on the line. He had no time to entertain distractions, no room in his head for thoughts about what Jay might be doing right now.

Every so often, a burst of laughter or the faint echo of a cheer from outside would pull him out of the words on the page, but only for a second. He’d take a sip of water, adjust in his chair, and dive back in. There was no imagining himself at the party, no wondering who was there or what was happening. The test was the only thing in his orbit. Whatever Jay was doing out there didn’t factor in — not tonight.

And while Y/n was busy drilling formulas into his brain, Jay was standing in a kitchen full of strangers, beer pong balls bouncing off the floor, wondering why the hell he was thinking about his roommate instead of the girl across from him who’d just asked for his name.

By one in the morning, Y/n’s desk was a disaster zone of open notebooks, loose papers, and half-dead pens. He’d been at it for hours, the numbers and terms on the page starting to blur together until they felt like they were slipping right out of his head. Every so often, he’d pause and stare blankly at a formula, his brain trying to cling to it while a creeping dread whispered that by the time he woke up, it would all be gone. That was the part that really made his stomach knot — the realization that no matter how much you stuffed into your head now, there was no guarantee it would still be there in the morning. He rubbed his eyes, leaned back in his chair, and listened to the muffled bass from somewhere down the street, each thump a reminder that the rest of Isla Vista was alive and loud while he was buried in notes.

Meanwhile, over on Del Playa, the party was at its peak. The living room had become a humid crush of bodies, the walls practically sweating under the heat. Jay had lost count of how many drinks he’d had, his head pleasantly light, his grin loose and lazy. Someone had passed him a blunt, and now the weed and alcohol blurred together into that warm, slow buzz that made it feel like the night could stretch on forever. He moved from the kitchen to the backyard to the living room without really thinking about it, nodding at people he didn’t know, letting conversations wash over him. And every so often, for no good reason, his thoughts drifted back to Y/n — sitting under that desk lamp, bent over his notes like the fate of the world depended on his midterm.

Y/n’s pen tapped a restless rhythm against the desk, matching the faint bass outside. His highlighter had died half a chapter ago, and now he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, weighing whether to power through or risk a break. But every pause felt dangerous — one glance at his phone, one stretch too long, and he might lose the fragile thread of focus holding him together. He told himself he just needed to finish this chapter. Just one more. But his leg was bouncing under the desk now, his handwriting getting sloppier as fatigue crept in.

Jay was back in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a beer in one hand, the blunt making its way to him again. The music thumped hard enough to rattle the bottles on the counter, but his mind kept flicking back to the room he’d left hours ago. He wondered if Y/n had opened the window to let in some air, if the faint vanilla scent from his side of the room was still there. Stupid, random thoughts that didn’t belong here, but they came anyway. He took another drag, another sip, and tried to shake it.

By almost two, Y/n felt the first real wave of panic. His eyes were sore from staring at the page, his brain sluggish, and every line he read felt like trying to catch smoke with his hands. Outside, Isla Vista was still going strong — shouts, laughter, bass lines bleeding into each other from house to house — but up here, the only thing moving was the tip of his pen scratching paper.

And somewhere in that humid, crowded party, Jay was tipping his head back with a laugh, feeling the room tilt just slightly, and thinking — without meaning to — that maybe he’d head back soon.

By the time the clock on Y/n’s laptop clicked past two-thirty, his vision had gone soft around the edges. He’d been reading the same paragraph for at least five minutes, his brain catching on every other word and then letting go before it could stick. The desk lamp cast a small, concentrated pool of light over his notes, the rest of the room sitting in shadow. His head was heavy, neck stiff, the weight of the all-nighter dragging him down. He’d fought off sleep for hours, pushing through the ache in his eyes, telling himself that just one more page, one more problem set, would make the difference between knowing the answer tomorrow or staring blankly at the paper. The thought of all that effort evaporating in the morning — of waking up and feeling like he’d learned nothing — was enough to keep him upright. Barely.

He was mid-sentence, pen in hand, when the sound of the front door downstairs slammed over the muffled bass outside. Voices followed — loud, unfiltered, laughing in that slurred way that only happened after too many drinks. The thump of footsteps on the stairs came next, heavy and uncoordinated, and then the door to his room creaked open. Jay stumbled in, cap still on, chain catching the light, his grin a little too wide. Beside him was a girl Y/n had never seen before — tall, in a tiny black dress, leaning on Jay like her balance depended on him. She was laughing at something he’d just said, her arm slung lazily around his neck.

Jay’s eyes found Y/n instantly, that lazy smirk spreading. “Bro,” he started, his voice thick with alcohol, “do me a solid, yeah?” He gestured vaguely toward the door with the hand not holding the girl’s waist. “Give us, like… an hour. Two, tops.”

Y/n blinked at him, slow and flat. “You’re kidding.”

Jay shook his head, still grinning like this was the most reasonable request in the world. “C’mon, man. I’ll owe you. Big time.”

Y/n leaned back in his chair, the exhaustion sharpening into something else entirely. “Jay, I have a midterm in—” he glanced at the clock, “—five hours. I’m not leaving so you can… whatever.”

The girl stifled a laugh against Jay’s shoulder, clearly catching the edge in Y/n’s tone. Jay just grinned wider, like he thought he could charm his way through it. “You could crash on the couch. It’s, like, prime nap weather out there.”

“I’m not moving,” Y/n said, and there was no hesitation in it. His pen was still in his hand, but his focus on the page was gone — replaced by the frustration of being pulled out of his fragile concentration right when he was about to give in to sleep.

Jay lingered in the doorway, shifting his weight like he was considering pushing it further. “Bro…” he started, but Y/n cut him off.

“Not tonight,” he said, voice steady but tired in a way that didn’t leave room for argument.

For a beat, the only sound was the faint throb of music from somewhere down the street and the girl’s soft, amused exhale. Jay finally raised his hands in surrender, his grin still stubbornly in place. “Alright, alright. No big deal.” He turned to the girl, muttering something under his breath that made her laugh again, and the two of them disappeared back into the hallway, their footsteps retreating down the stairs.

The room was quiet again, but the damage was done. Y/n sat there, staring at his notes without reading them, his exhaustion now buzzing with irritation. Outside, Isla Vista kept on raging, and inside, the clock kept ticking toward morning.

Y/n eventually closed his laptop, shoved his notes into a pile, and switched off the desk lamp. The darkness felt immediate, swallowing the room in that way that made it seem quieter than it really was. He slid under the blanket, eyes already closing, body sinking into the mattress like it had been waiting all night for permission to shut down. He told himself he needed at least three hours of sleep before the midterm — three hours where his brain could rest, maybe hold onto the fragile grip it had on everything he’d been cramming.

It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes later when the door eased open again. The hallway light spilled across the floor, cutting into the darkness, and Jay’s laugh — low, slurred — crept in with it. The girl from earlier was with him, her heels clicking softly against the floor as they slipped inside.

“Shhh,” Jay half-whispered, half-laughed, like the word itself was a joke.

Y/n’s eyes snapped open. He stayed still, hoping — against all logic — that they’d just grab something and leave. Instead, the door shut, the click of the lock following, and muffled voices started up on the other side of the room. He could hear the rustle of fabric, the creak of Jay’s bed frame. Then the first quiet laugh from the girl, followed by something lower — indistinct, but enough to make Y/n’s jaw tighten under the blanket.

He rolled onto his side, facing the wall, trying to will himself to ignore it. But the noises only got more distinct — a mix of breathy giggles, the soft thud of movement, Jay’s voice dropping into something Y/n couldn’t quite make out. The bed across the room creaked again, a steady rhythm beginning to form, and Y/n’s hands curled into the fabric of his pillow.

Every sound felt amplified in the dark: the shift of weight, the quick inhale of air, the little hitch of laughter between kisses. He shut his eyes, jaw tense, heat rising in his chest that had nothing to do with the blanket. His brain had been fried enough from hours of studying — now it was being pelted with this, and the thought of getting any real sleep started to feel like a joke.

Jay muttered something, the girl answered with a soft hum, and the bedframe let out another groan. Y/n exhaled sharply into his pillow, not trusting himself to speak, because he wasn’t sure if it would come out as irritation or something sharper. All he could do was stare into the darkness, every tick of the clock pushing him closer to morning, while Jay’s side of the room stayed very much awake.

By the time it was over, the room felt like it had been split in two. Jay’s side was thick with the heat of it, the sheets twisted, the faint smell of weed and sweat clinging to the air. Y/n’s side was rigid and silent, the only movement the slow rise and fall of his chest as he stared at the wall, eyes wide open in the dark. He hadn’t slept a minute. Every creak of the bed, every muffled sound, had dragged him further from the thin thread of calm he’d been trying to hold onto.

The girl giggled softly, gathering her things in the dim glow of Jay’s phone light. Her heels clicked on the floor as she leaned down, kissed him quick, and whispered something that made Jay laugh, low and lazy. Then the door opened, spilling another thin slice of hallway light across the room, and she slipped out without looking back. The door clicked shut, and silence folded in again.

Jay flopped back against his mattress with a satisfied groan, his laugh echoing in the dark like he’d just won a game no one else was playing. “Bro,” he muttered, voice still thick with alcohol, “you awake?”

Y/n didn’t answer. He stayed facing the wall, eyes open, every muscle tight.

Jay chuckled, the sound half amusement, half disbelief. “C’mon, don’t be mad. You survived.” His bed creaked as he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow, peering through the dark at Y/n’s still figure. “I told you — like, what, an hour? Not even.”

Y/n finally let out a sharp exhale, not turning around. “You’re unbelievable.” His voice was low, edged with exhaustion that sounded more dangerous than anger.

Jay smirked, not deterred in the slightest. “Unbelievably charming, yeah.”

Y/n rolled onto his back, finally meeting the shadow of Jay’s grin across the room. “I have a midterm in—” he squinted at the red digits of the clock, “—three hours. And you thought it was a good idea to turn this place into your personal motel?”

Jay laughed again, dragging a hand over his face like he could wipe the drunk off. “You’re acting like you didn’t hear worse in this house before. People hook up all the time.”

“Not in our room,” Y/n snapped, sharper this time.

That finally made Jay pause. He watched Y/n through the dark, the smirk faltering into something quieter. He let the silence hang for a second, then shrugged. “Fair. But you gotta admit, I was considerate. Didn’t even turn the lights on.”

Y/n groaned, dragging the blanket over his head like it could block him out completely. He didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to trade barbs, didn’t want to think about the fact that sleep was now even further out of reach. All he wanted was to shut down his brain for a couple of hours before walking into that classroom.

From his bed, Jay chuckled again, softer this time. “Don’t hate me, bro. You know you love me.”

Y/n didn’t answer. The silence that followed was heavy, but Jay only sighed, sinking back into his pillow with the loose contentment of someone who didn’t have to be anywhere in the morning.The room had gone quiet again after Jay’s little laugh, but it didn’t stay that way. Y/n had just started to convince himself he could maybe doze off for at least an hour when Jay shifted on his mattress, the springs squeaking loud in the dark.

“You’re really sulking, huh?” Jay’s voice was low, amused, and dripping with the kind of cocky confidence that only came from being half-drunk. “C’mon, dude, don’t act like you didn’t get a free show. She was hot.”

Y/n pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “You’re disgusting.”

That only made Jay chuckle, the sound bouncing lazily across the small space between their beds. “Nah, you love it. Admit it — you were laying there, thinking about what you’d do if it was you instead.” He dragged the words out, savoring them, like he wanted to see if they’d stick.

Y/n groaned and rolled onto his side again, facing the wall, jaw tight. “I have an exam in three hours. Go to sleep.”

But Jay wasn’t letting it go. He shifted again, and suddenly his voice was closer — he’d sat up, leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees like he was closing the distance even in the dark. “Don’t front, man. You’re always so serious. Bet you’re wound up as hell.” His laugh was soft, low, the kind that curled under Y/n’s skin whether he wanted it to or not. “You’d probably crack if someone kissed you right now. Just fold. Easy.”

Y/n squeezed his eyes shut, pulse ticking in his temples. “Jay.” His voice was sharp, but underneath was the exhaustion, the near edge of breaking.

Jay grinned in the dark, drunk enough not to care about the line he was toeing. “Relax, bro. No homo.” He said it like it was a magic spell, like those two words erased the weight of everything else. Then, quieter, more taunting: “Unless you wanted it to be.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the kind that pressed against both of them. Y/n’s hand curled tighter around the edge of his blanket, fighting the urge to answer, to give him even one more reaction. Across the room, Jay smirked to himself, stretching back against his pillow, smug in the knowledge that his words were still hanging in the air like smoke.

For Y/n, there was no sleep after that. Every time he shut his eyes, it wasn’t formulas or definitions that filled his head — it was Jay’s voice, smug and taunting, echoing in the dark.

Jay didn’t stay still for long. He sprawled out on his bed like he owned the whole room, one arm behind his head, the other draped lazily across his stomach. The mattress springs squeaked when he shifted, his lazy grin aimed right at Y/n. “Man,” he said after a beat, voice still low and rough from the night, “you should’ve seen her. Tightest little dress, fuckin’ legs for days. Whole time, I’m thinking—” he let the sentence hang just long enough to make it deliberate, “—bet you’d kill to be in her spot.”

Y/n’s head turned toward him, just barely, his brow creasing. “Jesus, Jay.”

“What?” Jay’s tone was pure innocence, but his smirk gave him away. “I’m just saying, she was… enthusiastic. You know?” He made a vague gesture with his hand, like he was replaying it in his head. “Claw marks down my back and everything. Bet you’d leave worse.”

“Shut up,” Y/n muttered, rolling onto his side so his back was to him.

But that was the thing about Jay — telling him to shut up was just blood in the water. He chuckled, low and warm, shifting so the bedsprings groaned again. “Don’t be like that, bro. We both know you were awake for some of it. You heard me, huh?”

Y/n didn’t answer, which was exactly the wrong move.

Jay kept going, his voice dropping a little. “Bet you were laying there, all tense, tryin’ not to picture it. Tryin’ not to picture me.” There was an edge of laughter under the words, but something slower too — not quite serious, but not entirely a joke.

Y/n sighed sharply. “You’re drunk.”

“Drunk,” Jay agreed, “and high. Which means no filter, baby.” The last word was drawn out, playful but sitting heavy in the space between them. “You gonna tell me you’ve never thought about it? Even once? I mean…” He laughed under his breath. “You’ve seen me in a towel, man. Hell, you’ve seen me naked by accident. That’s enough to get anybody curious.”

Y/n turned his head toward the wall, his jaw tight. “You’re ridiculous.”

Jay’s grin deepened, like that was the exact response he’d been fishing for. “Ridiculous and right.” He shifted again, the bedframe creaking, and when he spoke next, his voice had that lazy, post-party drawl that slid under your skin. “C’mon, you’ve never wondered what it’d be like if I just… climbed into your bed right now? No ‘no homo,’ no jokes. Just me and you.”

Y/n swallowed, the room suddenly feeling warmer than it had a minute ago. “You need to sleep, Jay.”

Jay laughed again, low and quiet, and finally rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah,” he said, still grinning, “but you’d be more fun.”

The silence that followed wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t exactly hostile either — the air between them thick with something unspoken, something that felt too big for either of them to name. And in that late, heavy hour, it lingered.

And again, the silence didn’t last long. Jay shifted one more time, the sound of the bedsprings giving him away, and then his bare feet hit the floor with a soft thud. Y/n could hear him moving even before he saw the shadow fall across his side of the room.

“Man…” Jay’s voice was quieter now, but no less smug, “you’re seriously over there acting like I didn’t just put on the performance of the century.”

Y/n didn’t roll over. “You woke me up. Again.”

Jay snorted. “Pfft. You weren’t even asleep. I know you, bro. You were laying there, pretending not to listen. That’s why you’re all tense now. You’ve got…” He paused, letting the word come out slower. “…energy.”

Y/n finally rolled onto his back, eyes half-open, irritation and exhaustion bleeding together. “Jay, I have a midterm in some hours. I’m not in the mood.”

Jay crouched down beside the bed, resting an elbow on the edge like they were just having some casual midnight chat. His grin was still there, lazy and taunting. “C’mon, dude. You know it’s bros before hoes, right? That’s like… code. Guy code. Top-tier roommates type shit.” He made a vague hand gesture between them, like that was supposed to explain everything. “If your bro needs something, you hook him up. And right now…” His grin widened, “—I think you need somethin’.”

Y/n huffed out a laugh that wasn’t amused. “What I need is for you to get the fuck back in your bed, bro.”

Jay shook his head slowly, like Y/n was the one being ridiculous. “Nah, nah, nah. That’s quitter talk. Look at us, man — two dudes, late at night, doors locked, no one else around…” He leaned in just a fraction, voice dipping lower. “If I was into dudes — which I’m not, obviously — I’d say this is the perfect setup.”

“You’re drunk,” Y/n said again, but his voice didn’t sound as steady this time.

“AAAAAANDD… having a great night.” Jay’s smirk didn’t falter. “You could be having a great night too, bro. You just gotta stop overthinking it. It’s not even gay if it’s with your roommate. That’s, like… a law or something.”

Y/n let his head fall back against the pillow, eyes narrowing. “That’s not a law.”

“Okay, maybe not, but it should be.” Jay’s voice softened just slightly, enough to slide under Y/n’s skin. “Don't tell me it never crossed your mind.”

Y/n didn’t answer right away, and that was all the opening Jay needed. He reached out, fingers brushing the blanket near Y/n’s hip — not grabbing, not even pressing, just enough to let the weight of the touch hang there.

“See?” Jay’s grin deepened. “You didn’t say no.”

The air between them felt heavy now, the late-night quiet amplifying every small sound — Y/n’s slow inhale, Jay’s faint laugh, the creak of the floor under his crouch. It was the kind of moment that could tip either way, and Jay seemed determined to keep pushing until it did.

Jay stayed crouched there for a long moment, his smirk daring Y/n to say something that would end it. When it didn’t come, he leaned his weight forward, elbows on the mattress now. The dip in the bed made Y/n shift slightly, and Jay noticed — his grin pulling wider like he’d just scored a point in a game only he was playing.

“Bro, you’re so fucked up right now,” he murmured, voice somewhere between taunt and observation. “Like, I can feel it from here. You need to… relax. Let your bro take care of you.”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not ‘taking care’ of me.”

Jay chuckled under his breath, shaking his head like Y/n was being dramatic. “Not like that, man. Chill. I mean—” he shrugged one shoulder, still leaning in, “—unless you’re into it. Which… you don’t seem to be saying no to.”

Before Y/n could reply, Jay shifted again, climbing up onto the edge of the bed without asking. He moved slow, exaggerated, like he was giving Y/n plenty of time to push him away if he wanted — but there was a confidence in the way he did it, a certainty that he wouldn’t be stopped. His knee sank into the mattress beside Y/n’s hip, the faint scent of beer and weed trailing off him as he leaned closer.

“You know what I think?” Jay said, low enough that it was almost a whisper. “I think you lowkey need that. Not all the time — you’re not obsessed or whatever — but I think there’s been a night or two where you were like, ‘yeah, I’d let Jay fuck around.’”

“Jay…” Y/n’s voice was warning, but his tone lacked the sharp edge it usually carried when he was serious.

Jay caught it immediately. “What? It’s not like I’m saying I’d actually do it.” His grin turned sly. “Unless you asked.”

Y/n’s blanket was still pulled halfway up his torso, but Jay’s hand landed casually on top of it, fingers drumming idly near his ribs. Not quite touching, but close enough to be felt through the fabric. “See, this is where the whole ‘bros before hoes’ thing comes in, dude. Sometimes your bro just… steps up. Helps you out. No labels, no drama. Just… bro shit.”

“‘Bro shit’ doesn’t usually involve…” Y/n trailed off, the words catching before he could finish them.

Jay tilted his head, eyes locked on his. “Involve what?”

The air between them felt thick now, the faint streetlight slipping through the blinds cutting narrow stripes across Jay’s jaw, his neck. He was close enough that Y/n could see the glaze of alcohol in his eyes, the lazy pull at the corner of his mouth, and the way his chest rose and fell slow from the weed.

Jay smirked again, leaning just a little closer, voice dropping into something heavier. “You say the word, and I’ll make this the best all-nighter you’ve ever had.”

For a moment, Y/n didn’t move, didn’t even blink — the weight of Jay’s words hanging in the late-night quiet, thick with all the things they weren’t saying.

Jay didn’t wait for a yes. He moved in that lazy, unhurried way that came with being sure of himself, one knee sinking deeper into the mattress until he was braced half over Y/n. His hand slid up from the blanket to Y/n’s jaw, his thumb pressing lightly along the edge of it. Not rough, not soft — just enough pressure to make it clear he was steering the moment.

Y/n’s breath caught, and Jay’s smirk sharpened. “Relax, dude,” he murmured, voice low enough to feel rather than hear. “Just bros. Just… testing boundaries, right?”

Y/n didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either. Jay’s thumb brushed the corner of his mouth, his eyes locked there like he was studying the way it moved. Then, with that same half-grin, he leaned down until their faces were close enough that Y/n could smell the mix of weed, beer, and faint cologne clinging to him.

“You ever notice,” Jay said slowly, “how easy it is to just… not think about it? You do what feels good, and that’s it. No labels, no deep shit. Just…” His hand slid down Y/n’s neck, fingers curling against the warm skin there. “…two guys helping each other out.”

Y/n’s pulse was hammering now, the heat under his skin clashing with the exhaustion still weighing on him. Jay must’ve felt it, because his grin deepened, his thumb dragging lightly against the hollow of Y/n’s throat before dipping lower.

“Bet you’ve been tense all night,” Jay added, his voice almost a taunt. “All that studying, no break, no fun. You’re too worried, man.”

He shifted his weight, bringing his face even closer until his lips brushed — not kissed, just brushed — against Y/n’s ear. “I could fix that.”

The words landed hard, and before Y/n could stop himself, a quiet, involuntary sound slipped past his lips — barely more than a breath, but unmistakably a moan. Jay froze for half a second, then laughed under his breath, smug and low.

“There it is,” he murmured. “Knew you had it in you.”

His hand slid lower, over the blanket but firm enough that Y/n could feel the weight and heat of it through the fabric. The mattress dipped more as Jay leaned in, his mouth close enough to ghost over Y/n’s jaw now. “C’mon, man. Just say it. Just say you want me to keep going, and I will. We can call it… what’s the word…” He smirked. “Team-building.”

Y/n’s fingers had curled into the sheets without him realizing it, the tension in his body now something entirely different from the stress of studying. Jay’s eyes tracked that, the grin never leaving his face, his touch lingering in a way that made it very clear he had no intention of pulling back unless he was told outright.

Y/n’s grip on the sheets tightened, the last scraps of his stubborn pride slipping through his fingers like sand. The logical part of his brain — the one that had been clinging to his midterm as an excuse — was drowned out by the heat pooling low in his body. His cock was hard now, straining against the thin fabric of his shorts, the pulse of it impossible to ignore. He hated how quickly it had happened, hated how easy Jay made it without even trying.

Jay noticed. Of course he did. His grin shifted into something sharper, hungrier. “Yeah… there it is,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, satisfied tone. “Knew you’d crack eventually, bro.” His hand slid down the blanket again, slower this time, deliberately brushing over the shape between Y/n’s legs. Even through the fabric, the contact made Y/n’s breath hitch, his back arch just slightly.

“Fuck…” Y/n muttered, half to himself.

Jay’s smirk deepened. “Nah, not yet. But we’re gettin’ there.”

With a casual ease that made it worse, Jay grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked it down, exposing Y/n’s bare legs and the obvious tent in his shorts. “Dude…” Jay laughed under his breath, eyes flicking down and back up, “you’re fuckin’ hard as fuck. For me?” He tilted his head like it was just a joke, but his hand was already pressing down on the bulge, testing the weight of it through the fabric.

Y/n’s eyes shut, another soft sound slipping out before he could bite it back.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Jay murmured, leaning in until their noses almost touched. “You’re not in charge here, bro. You’re mine for the night.”

The words sent a shiver through Y/n, heat crawling up his neck. Jay’s free hand braced beside his head, boxing him in, while the other started stroking him slowly over the shorts. The friction was maddening — not enough to get him off, just enough to keep him on edge.

“You’re a fag, huh?” Jay said it like he was confirming a theory he’d had all along. “You just lay there and take it, let your bro do all the work. Bet you’d be good at it too.”

Y/n’s chest rose and fell faster now, his hips shifting involuntarily into Jay’s hand. “Jay…”

“Say it,” Jay ordered, his tone still laced with that lazy smirk but harder underneath. “Say you want me to take care of you.”

Y/n hesitated for half a breath, then gave in completely, his voice low but steady. “I want you to.”

Jay’s grin turned wicked. “Good boy.”

He didn’t waste another second — his hand slipped under the waistband of Y/n’s shorts, warm fingers wrapping around his cock directly. Y/n gasped, head tipping back against the pillow, and Jay watched him like he was committing every reaction to memory. “Yeah… that’s more like it,” Jay said, jerking him off slow and firm. “Knew you’d feel good in my hand. Knew you’d let me do whatever I want once you stopped pretending you didn’t want it.”

Y/n couldn’t even argue — every thought was lost to the sharp, steady pleasure building between his legs, Jay’s weight over him, and the low, smug voice in his ear that kept reminding him exactly who was in control.

Jay’s grin didn’t let up, his eyes locked on Y/n like he was studying the way every tiny shift gave him away. “Look at you, man. Didn’t even take a full minute for you to fold. Now you’re all soft in the head, starin’ at me like you forgot what you were so uptight about.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dripping with that lazy, taunting drawl. “You’re such a fuckin’ fag, bro. The kinda guy who plays all cool in the daylight, then melts the second someone grabs you like this. Bet you’ve been waiting for me to do this since day one.” He gave a slow, knowing laugh. “You don’t gotta say it — your face is saying it for you.”

Y/n’s breath came heavier, his grip on the sheets tightening like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment.

Jay tilted his head, grin widening. “Yeah… you’re gone already. Fuckin’ gone. Eyes half-shut, lips parted, lettin’ me do whatever I want. You like me runnin’ my mouth while I’ve got you like this, huh? Gets in your head. Makes you feel it more.” He paused, his gaze dragging down and back up in one long sweep. “You’re not even thinking about your little midterm anymore. You’re thinkin’ about me. About how deep I could get if I wanted to.”

Y/n’s eyes flicked up to his, the heat there impossible to hide.

Jay smirked deeper, leaning until their foreheads almost touched. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, bro. You’re gonna let me call the shots. You’re gonna let me take my time with you. And you’re gonna remember exactly how this felt every time you try to act like you’re not into me.”

He stayed close, his words low and deliberate. “By the time I’m done, you’re gonna be limp, sweaty, and thinkin’ about me every time you close your eyes. I’m gonna make sure of it. ‘Cause you’re my boy, and I take care of my boys.”

The way Jay said it — that mix of claim and challenge — made the air between them hum. And under the heavy weight of his voice, Y/n stopped trying to hold onto the last pieces of his composure and just let himself sink into whatever Jay had planned.

Jay shifted even closer, so close Y/n could feel the warm brush of his breath on his lips. His grin turned cockier, like he knew exactly how far he was pushing it. “You know what I’ve been thinkin’ all night, bro?” he said, eyes locked on Y/n’s. “Kissing your bro isn’t even gay. It’s just… closin’ ranks. Sealing the deal. Like a handshake, but better.”

Y/n almost laughed, but the sound got caught in his throat when Jay’s gaze dipped to his mouth.

“I mean, c’mon,” Jay went on, voice low and almost conspiratorial. “You and me, in here, no one else watching. Who the fuck cares? We’re just messin’ around. Bros fucking messin’ around.” His smirk tilted higher. “But I promise you — I’m a good kisser. Better than anyone you’ve pulled in this house.”

Before Y/n could throw back a comment, Jay closed the gap, his mouth pressing against Y/n’s in a kiss that was anything but polite. It was sloppy, hot, all tongue and teeth — the kind of kiss that felt more like claiming territory than anything romantic. Y/n felt his head tilt back, the way Jay’s hand came up to hold him there, keeping him still while he deepened it.

Jay pulled back just enough to speak against his mouth, his tone smug and rough. “Yeah… that’s it. You taste like you’ve been waiting for this.” He went in again, messier this time, the kiss wet and breathless, their lips sliding together in a rhythm that left Y/n’s mind buzzing.

Y/n could feel every inch of Jay pressed up against him now — the heat, the weight, and the undeniable fact that Jay was hard too. Jay didn’t bother hiding it; in fact, he leaned into it, grinding just enough to make his point without breaking the kiss.

He broke away for a second, grinning against Y/n’s jaw. “See, bro? Told you it’s not gay. Just two dudes takin’ care of each other. Nothin’ wrong with that.” His voice dipped lower, dirtier. “You’re lucky I’m a good friend.”

Whatever Jay’s hand was doing under the blanket, it made Y/n’s hips shift involuntarily, his breath catching again. Jay noticed instantly, his grin sharpening as he pressed another quick, filthy kiss to Y/n’s lips. “Yeah… there you go. That’s my boy.”

Jay stayed close enough, his breath coming in short bursts against Y/n’s lips. His hand kept moving under the blanket — steady, deliberate — and the faint shift of fabric and skin created a rhythm that was impossible to ignore. The air between them was filled with it, a faint, wet-slick sound every time his grip worked over Y/n in a slow pull.

“Yeah… just like that,” Jay murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Don’t fight it, bro. Let me run the pace. I’ve got you.” He dipped in to kiss Y/n again — hot, sloppy, lingering — their mouths breaking with a faint wet noise that almost matched the quiet rhythm under the blanket.

The movement was unhurried at first, almost lazy, Jay’s hand working with a steady consistency that made Y/n’s breathing hitch every few seconds. Then, as if deciding he’d played around enough, Jay let the pace build — the slick sound quickening, his hand working in firmer, more precise pulls.

“Listen to that shit,” Jay said, his grin audible in his voice. “That’s you, man. That’s how bad you needed me tonight.” His tone was taunting but there was heat in it, too, the kind that made every word dig in deeper. “You’re fuckin’ leaking for me. Bet you didn’t think this would be how you ended your night, huh?”

Y/n couldn’t even answer — his focus was locked on the rhythm, the heat pooling in his stomach, the way Jay’s movements stayed just this side of perfect. Jay noticed the tension creeping into his body, the way his hips wanted to move with the pace, and adjusted instantly, the slick noise growing sharper with each stroke.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Jay muttered, keeping his eyes locked on Y/n’s face like he was reading every microexpression. “I can feel you getting close. Don’t hold back on me, bro. You let me have it.”

The sound under the blanket had gone from subtle to undeniable, each wet move syncing with the thud of Y/n’s heartbeat in his ears. Jay’s grin didn’t falter once — if anything, it got wider, hungrier, knowing exactly what he was doing to him.

Jay’s grip stayed relentless, the pace sharp now — just on the edge of overwhelming. The wet, rhythmic sound under the blanket filled the space between them, syncing with the way Y/n’s breath kept stuttering out in uneven bursts. Jay’s eyes were locked on him the whole time, reading every twitch, every flinch, every moment Y/n’s control slipped.

“Yeah… you’re right there,” Jay muttered, voice thick with satisfaction. “Eyes all glassy, lips all wet from kissin’ me… fuck, bro, you’re a sight.” His grin turned sharper, more possessive. “Don’t even try to hold back — I want it. I wanna feel you lose it in my hand.”

Y/n’s hips shifted helplessly into the rhythm, his knuckles white in the sheets.

“That’s it,” Jay urged, his tone going darker. “Let go for me. Let me see what it looks like when my boy falls apart. This is all me, dude. Every sound you’re makin’, every fuckin’ twitch — I did that.”

The moment Y/n’s body tensed in that unmistakable way, Jay’s smirk widened, his voice dropping to a rough murmur against his ear. “Yeah… give it to me. Give it all to me, just like that. Good fuckin’ boy.”

Even as Y/n slumped back, breathless, Jay didn’t stop — the pace easing but still there, his hand keeping that slick, possessive rhythm like he wasn’t ready to let him go.

“Nah, we’re not done,” he said, grinning like a wolf. “You think I’m stoppin’ here? I’ve been hard this whole time, man. I’m not lettin’ you off that easy.” He leaned in, pressing a messy kiss to the corner of Y/n’s mouth. “Gonna fuck you, bro. Gonna make sure you remember exactly who made you feel like this.”

He pulled back just enough to meet Y/n’s eyes, the weight of his stare heavy and certain. “You’re mine tonight. And I’m not done with you ‘til I say so.”

Jay didn’t give Y/n more than a few seconds to breathe before he was shifting his weight, one knee digging into the mattress as he loomed over him. The grin was still there — cocky, wolfish, the look of a guy who knew he had the upper hand and was in no rush to give it up.

“Flip over,” he said, the words casual but laced with that tone that wasn’t really asking. “Yeah, you heard me. On your stomach.” When Y/n didn’t move right away, Jay laughed low. “Don’t make me manhandle you, bro. I will. And you’ll like it.”

Y/n hesitated, still catching his breath, but Jay’s hands were already on him — firm, insistent, guiding him where he wanted. It wasn’t rough, not exactly, but there was zero doubt who was steering. “That’s better,” Jay murmured, his voice thick with approval. “Knew you’d listen to me. Good boys always do.”

He stayed close, his chest brushing Y/n’s back, his mouth hovering by his ear. “You feel that?” Jay pushed forward just enough for Y/n to notice the heat, the pressure. “Been like this the whole time. You did this to me.”

Y/n could hear the faint shift of fabric, the sound of Jay getting himself in hand, the low groan he let out when he did. “Holy shit… I’ve been thinking about this all night. You’re lying here all tense, all pretty, actin’ like you didn’t want me — meanwhile, I’m picturing bending you over this bed and goin’ until you can’t think about anything but me.”

His hands roamed with that same casual claim as before, gripping Y/n like he owned every inch. “You ever been fucked by your bro before? Huh? Bet not. Bet no one’s had you like I’m about to.” He chuckled under his breath, filthy and amused. “It’s not gay, man. It’s just… efficient. Two dudes, one room, no problem.”

Jay’s pace behind him was slow, deliberate — just enough movement to make his point, the faint, wet rhythm from earlier starting up again. “I could go all night,” he said, his tone going lower, hungrier. “You think you’re done? Nah. You’re not done ‘til I say you’re done. And I’ve got a lot I wanna do to you.”

Y/n felt him lean in, pressing a messy, open-mouthed kiss to the back of his neck, the words coming hot against his skin. “You’re mine tonight. Start getting used to it.”

Jay’s breathing was heavier now, uneven, like whatever control he’d been holding onto was starting to slip. His hands tightened on Y/n’s hips, thumbs pressing into the bone like he was staking a claim. “Fuck… bro… you have no idea. No idea what you’re doing to me right now.”

His voice had gone rougher, almost drunk on the feeling, that lazy confidence turning into something messier. “Been thinkin’ about this all night. Hell, probably since the day you moved in. That—” he broke off with a low groan, pressing forward again, “— That ass is fuckin’ perfect for this. You just take it. You don’t even fight me on it.”

The rhythm behind Y/n picked up — steady, insistent — and Jay’s words started tumbling out between his heavier breaths. “Yeah… yeah, that’s it. That’s my boy. Let me in… fuck… I’m not stoppin’. Not ‘til I wring you out completely.” He laughed under his breath, filthy and gone. “I’m gonna wreck you, man. You’re gonna be thinkin’ about this in class tomorrow. Tryna take your little test with your legs sore as hell, and all you’ll hear in your head is my fuckin’ voice.”

Y/n shivered under him, and Jay caught it instantly. “You like that? You like me talkin’ to you while I’m—” another groan, low and strained “—while I’m inside your head like this?” His tone went almost giddy, the way guys did when they were too far gone to care. “God, you’re makin’ me so fuckin’ dumb right now. Just— shit— just a hole for me, bro. Just my boy, takin’ what I give you.”

He leaned over him more, chest against Y/n’s back, mouth at his ear. “You’re not leavin’ this bed ‘til I’m satisfied. And I’m a greedy motherfucker.” His laugh was breathless, high on his own control. “By the time I’m done, you’re gonna be ruined for everyone else. You’ll try to hook up with someone else and all you’ll be thinkin’ is ‘yeah, but they’re not Jay.’”

Whatever rhythm he had was deeper now, heavier, each push making him curse under his breath like he couldn’t hold it back. “Yeah… fuck yeah… that’s it, man. Take it. Take all of it.”

The room had gone thick with heat and noise. Every shift of Jay’s body against Y/n’s sent the mattress creaking under them, the steady, insistent rhythm echoing in the small space. There was a wet, slick sound in the air — quiet at first, then louder as the pace built — the kind of sound that made Y/n’s breath hitch without him meaning to.

Jay heard it too. “You hear that, bro?” he said between breaths, his voice low and almost laughing. “That’s us. That’s how soaked you are for me.” His tone turned more ragged with each word. “You’re gettin’ messy, man… fuck… you’re making me messy.”

The pace picked up, and with it the sound — that sticky, fast rhythm underscored by the muted thud of their bodies meeting again and again. Y/n could feel his own sensitivity spiking, every push and pull lighting up nerve endings that were already raw. His hands twisted tighter in the sheets, trying to ground himself against the overwhelming pace.

Jay leaned over him, mouth at his ear, breath hot and uneven. “You feel that? You’re clenching up on me. Gettin’ all twitchy. You’re sensitive as hell right now, aren’t you?” He laughed breathlessly, the sound cracking into something deeper. “Good. I want you like that. I want you on edge, whining for more while I keep giving it to you.”

The rhythm didn’t falter — the wet slap of contact and Jay’s breathy curses filling every second, his voice going hazy and repetitive like he was too far gone to filter it. “Yeah… yeah… that’s it… take it, bro… fuck… that’s my boy.”

Jay shifted, adjusting his position until the mattress dipped sharply under his weight. He swung a leg over and settled himself squarely on top of Y/n, his knees bracketing Y/n’s sides, his full weight pressing down in a way that made it impossible to move. The air left Y/n’s lungs in a quick rush — not painful, but enough to remind him just how much bigger and heavier Jay felt above him.

“Yeah… that’s better,” Jay said, voice low but dripping with satisfaction. “Now I’ve got you pinned. Now you’re not going anywhere.” His hands found Y/n’s shoulders, pushing him down into the bed, his smirk widening like he was enjoying every second of it.

Then, with the kind of casual arrogance only Jay could pull off, he shifted one knee higher and let one foot slide up until it was brushing Y/n’s cheek. The move wasn’t fast — it was deliberate, teasing — like he wanted to see exactly how Y/n would react.

Jay chuckled, leaning forward just enough for his shadow to fall over Y/n’s face. “What’s the matter, bro? Can’t handle a little extra?” His tone was pure frat-boy mockery, that mix of playful and mean. “You look good like that. All under me, takin’ whatever I give you. Even this.”

He pressed down just slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make the point that Y/n was exactly where he wanted him. “You’re not fighting it either,” Jay added, grin turning smug. “You’re lettin’ me do it. Kinda hot, bro.”

With Jay’s weight bearing down and the press of his foot against his cheek, Y/n felt completely claimed, the rhythm of Jay’s movements above him making the whole bed shift. The combination of dominance, heat, and the cocky way Jay kept talking was enough to make every nerve fire at once.

Jay’s weight stayed heavy, pinning Y/n down like he was welded into place. The rhythm of their bodies was quick now, messy, the sound of it filling every corner of the room — wet, urgent, relentless. Y/n’s breathing had gone ragged, every inhale sharp, every exhale a low, involuntary sound.

Jay’s own voice was fraying at the edges, his words spilling out in short bursts between breaths. “Yeah… yeah… that’s it… you’re right there… you’re gonna give it to me, bro, I can feel it.” His tone was half command, half plea, the kind of unfiltered need that came when he was too far gone to pretend he wasn’t obsessed with the moment.

Y/n’s fingers twisted tight in the sheets, his whole body tense under the weight holding him down. Every movement pushed him closer to that point where everything blurred — Jay’s voice in his ear, the heat pressing into him, the slick, fast rhythm that had him spiraling.

Jay leaned forward until his mouth was right at Y/n’s ear, his words hot and unsteady. “Don’t hold it… don’t hold back… give it to me, all of it… fuck— you’re mine, man, you’re all mine.”

The pace hit its peak — sharp, fast, almost sloppy now — the sound of it louder, wetter, punctuated by Jay’s low groans and Y/n’s quiet, breaking noises. There was no room left to think, no space for anything but the way their bodies moved together and the heavy air between them.

Y/n was the first to go, the tension snapping all at once, his breath catching in one long, shaky exhale as his body gave in completely. Jay wasn’t far behind, his voice dropping into a rough, unsteady string of curses, his weight pressing even harder for a second before he finally slowed.

For a moment, neither of them moved — just breathing hard, the room thick with heat and the lingering sound of what had just happened.

Then Jay chuckled low, lazy, and smug. “Told you I’d take care of you, bro.”

note: hi. this one’s different from what i usually write. it’s purely nsfw, full of dirty words, and i’m still figuring out how to do this in english. the prompt for this story won the voting, so here we are, and i wanted to push myself with it. writing it was weird and exciting at the same time. there were moments where i stumbled over words, where it didn’t feel quite right, but i let the story take over. the tension, the heat, the messiness!! it all guided me. it’s raw, it’s bold, and it’s me trying something new. hehe! i hope it lands the way it should; intense and unfiltered. exploring this side of writing it’s kind of fun! especially letting it go all the way. thank you guys for all the love! always. ♡ luke

this work was originally written in portuguese and manually translated into english.

[mybl--dyvalentine]

⋆｡°✩ cloudy with a chance of an encore ✦ sim jaeyun

three months of silence. one concert alert, and the terrifying, beautiful gamble of maybe, just maybe, finding your way back through the hurt.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — sim jaeyun x male!reader 

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — some angst … hooh lordie … ITS OKAY I SWEAR, yearning jake is so sexc aha, male reader yall

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — severe pining-induced chest aches (temporary, cured by kissing), swearing, the concert is the catalyst, but the softness? that's all them, also bring tissues

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 3.9k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ check my new masterlist — looking for past works? here's the legacy one!

The notification ping felt like a physical blow to your sternum. Three months of radio silence, a carefully constructed barrier against the ache, shattered by a single, innocuous calendar alert: ‘BTS RE: TOUR - Sofi Stadium - TONIGHT w/J’.

You stared at the screen, the glow illuminating your darkened living room – the aftermath of another late shift at the network station. ‘w/J’. Jake. Of course. You’d bought the tickets together in a frenzy of excitement six months ago, back when "forever" felt tangible, not like a fragile glass sculpture Jake had accidentally knocked off the shelf.

Three months ago, that glass had shattered spectacularly.

It hadn't been one cataclysmic explosion, but a slow erosion. Jake, soaring in his new career as a sought-after fashion model, has a chaotic whirlwind of shoots, castings, and freelance gigs connected to the industry. You, entrenched as Head of Production for a major news network, your own life dictated by breaking news cycles and relentless deadlines.

The distance wasn’t just geographical; it was emotional. Promises broken, not out of malice, you knew that intellectually, but out of sheer, infuriating carelessness. Important dates forgotten. Late-night calls missed because he’d fallen asleep after a shoot halfway across the world. A crucial family dinner for you, overshadowed by a last-minute campaign launch he had to attend.

From where you stood, it became a pattern that solidified.

It was you, standing alone at the engagement party of mutual friends, fielding awkward questions about Jake’s absence. It was the hollow ache when you saw his face, impossibly handsome and carefree, splashed across a billboard downtown. It was realizing your resentment had begun to outweigh the love, a toxic equation with no solution.

The breaking point felt almost mundane in its disappointment. Your third anniversary. You’d meticulously planned a quiet weekend getaway, a digital detox just for the two of you. You’d cleared your insane schedule, fought tooth and nail for the time. Jake had promised, sworn on everything, he’d be there.

You’d arrived at the secluded cabin first, lit the fireplace, and set the table. His flight landed… and then silence. Hours of silence. When he finally called, voice thick with exhaustion and genuine remorse, it was from a different city. A major brand had offered an impromptu, career-making shoot. He’d panicked, said yes without thinking, and assumed he could still make it to you after. He couldn’t. The disappointment wasn’t fiery anger; it was a cold, heavy weight settling in your chest.

The realization that you were perpetually sliding down his priority list, replaced by the next shiny opportunity. You couldn’t handle being an afterthought anymore. The conversation that followed was quiet, devastatingly mature. Mutual recognition that this pattern was unsustainable. Mutual heartbreak.

So, you’d ended it. Calmly, sadly.

There was no blame, just a shared, crushing defeat. Mutual. Necessary. Brutal.

Three months. The supposed magical reset button for dating flings or even starting new ones, and realizing what it means to be in love. Utterly laughable when applied to actual three years of intertwined lives, shared dreams whispered in the dark, and a fracture born of accumulated, soul-crushing letdowns.

You hadn’t spoken since, hadn’t texted. Seeing his face on billboards or fashion spreads was a sharp, unwelcome reminder. You missed the warmth of him, his stupidly infectious laugh, the way his eyes crinkled when he was genuinely happy. But the trust? That felt irreparably broken.

And now this. The tickets. Non-refundable. A relic of a happier past, demanding participation in the present. You could skip it. Let the expensive pieces of digital paper gather dust. But something stubborn, perhaps masochistic, wouldn’t let you. Maybe it was closure. Maybe it was just seeing BTS.

Or maybe, a treacherous voice whispered, it was seeing him.

—

The energy outside Sofi Stadium was electric, a palpable wave of pure, unadulterated joy that felt jarring against the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. ARMY buzzed everywhere, clad in merch, faces painted, singing snippets of songs. You felt like an imposter in your simple dark jeans and hoodie.

Then you saw him.

Leaning against a pillar near the designated meeting spot, Jake looked… different. Not just the model-polished version plastered everywhere but subtly changed. He’d grown his hair slightly longer, the styled waves a bit less rigid. He wore some kind of designer jeans and a simple, well-cut sweater that really looked expensive, but his posture lacked its usual confident ease. He looked tense, scanning the crowd, his gaze sharp until it landed on you.

His eyes widened, a flicker of something unreadable – surprise, nervousness, pain? – before settling into careful neutrality. He pushed off the pillar, offering a small, tentative smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey."

"Hey," you replied, your voice thankfully steady. The awkwardness descended instantly, thick and suffocating.

Three months vanished, replaced by the visceral memory of his scent, the specific curve of his jawline. You shoved your hands deep into your hoodie pockets. "Made it."

"Yeah. Traffic was… something." He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you remembered well. "You look good."

"Thanks. You too." The pleasantries felt like shards of glass. The roar of the crowd seemed to amplify the silence between you. "Should we…?" You gestured vaguely towards the gates.

"Yeah. Yeah, absolutely."

The walk-through security and into the cavernous bowl of the stadium was excruciating. You walked side-by-side, yet miles apart. Conversations died before they started. Stilted observations about the sheer size of the venue, the impressive stage setup, felt hollow. Every accidental brush of his arm against yours sent a jolt through you, a confusing mix of familiarity and painful distance.

Finding your seats – good ones, center stage, a testament to how frantically you’d clicked when sales opened a lifetime ago – was a new level of torture. Squeezing past people, brushing arms accidentally, the proximity was a cruel reminder of how natural closeness used to be.

You sat down, leaving an empty seat-width between you on the plush stadium chairs. The pre-show music pulsed, the massive screens flickered with graphics, and the crowd buzzed.

It was deafening, yet the silence between you two was the loudest sound in the universe.

Jake cleared his throat. "Forgot how big this place is."

"Yeah," you agreed, staring straight ahead at the empty stage. "Massive."

And that was it. The chasm remained. You stole glances when you thought he wasn’t looking. He seemed thinner, maybe. The confident model posture was there, but there was a tightness around his jaw, a vulnerability in the way he occasionally chewed his lower lip – a habit he only had when nervous or deeply unsettled. You saw it. You recognized it. And it twisted something inside you. He misses this too. He misses you.

The knowledge was a sharp ache, tangled with the lingering hurt.

Then the lights died. A collective gasp, then a roar that shook the stadium floor. The opening notes of "ON" exploded from the speakers, a barrage of drums and fierce energy. The members appeared, silhouetted against blinding light, and the world erupted.

You were swept up. How could you not be? It was BTS. It was history. The sheer scale, the precision, and the raw power of the performance were overwhelming. You found yourself yelling, clapping, momentarily forgetting the man sitting rigidly beside you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake leaning forward, captivated, a flicker of the old, unguarded excitement on his face. For a few minutes, the music was a buffer, a shared experience that didn’t require words, just shared awe.

But then came the transition. The fierce energy of "ON" faded, replaced by the soft, melancholic piano intro of "Spring Day". The giant screens are filled with poignant imagery. The crowd’s roar softened into a wave of swaying phone lights, a sea of longing.

I miss you…

The yearning in the lyrics, the imagery of separation, waiting, and the fragile hope of reunion… it sliced through the temporary distraction. It felt personal.

Too personal.

You felt Jake shift beside you. You didn’t dare look. The space between you, previously just physical, suddenly felt charged with the unspoken grief of the past three months. The shared memories flooded back – lazy Sundays listening to this song, Jake humming it beautifully while cooking, the comfort of his presence during times when the world felt heavy.

Now, that comfort was replaced by a chasm of hurt, and the song felt like salt rubbed directly into the wound. A tear escaped, hot and traitorous, before you could blink it away. You kept your face resolutely forward, body tense.

The setlist was a rollercoaster. They slammed into "Dope", the playful bravado and infectious rhythm impossible to resist. The sheer fun of it broke the suffocating tension again. You caught Jake’s eye during a particularly sharp dance break. He offered a tentative, small smile. It wasn’t the wide, crinkly-eyed grin you loved, but it was something. Something real. Against your better judgment, you gave a tiny nod back.

A flicker of connection.

"Butter" had the entire stadium dancing, a wave of pure, unadulterated joy. You found yourself moving, bouncing slightly in your seat. You glanced at Jake. He was moving too, looser now, a hint of the easy rhythm he used to have.

He caught you looking. This time, his smile was wider, brighter. It punched the air from your lungs. He looked like your Jake again. He nudged your shoulder lightly with his own. "Still got the moves?" he yelled over the music, a ghost of his old playful teasing.

You surprised yourself by laughing. A genuine, if slightly strained, laugh. "More than you, probably!" you yelled back.

The distance was closing. Song by song, beat by beat, the shared euphoria, the powerful nostalgia woven into the performance, was chipping away at the walls you’d both built. During "Life Goes On", with its gentle acceptance and quiet resilience, you found your hand resting on the armrest.

A moment later, Jake’s hand brushed against yours. Neither of you pulled away. The contact was electric, a jolt of pure, terrifying recognition. Your fingers twined together, almost of their own accord. It felt terrifyingly right. Like coming home. You could feel his pulse thrumming against your skin, rapid and alive.

He squeezed gently. You squeezed back.

The stadium sang along to "Magic Shop", a collective promise of comfort and understanding. You leaned closer to hear Jake’s voice blend with yours, rough but earnest. Your shoulders touched. The scent of him, the warmth radiating off him, the solidity of his presence beside you after three months of aching absence… it was overwhelming.

The hurt was still there, a dull ache beneath the ribs, but it was momentarily overlaid by a powerful, undeniable wave of love and longing.

You felt… better. Closer. Hopeful, against all reason and experience. The carefully constructed fortress of ‘moving on’ felt dangerously fragile.

As the stage’s next number exploded into its final, glittering chorus, the stadium a pulsing mass of pure joy, you turned fully towards Jake. He was already looking at you, his eyes wide, reflecting the stage lights and something else – something raw and hopeful and terrified. The connection was magnetic. The music, the crowd, the shared history, the simple, undeniable fact of missing him… it was too much.

You leaned in. He didn’t pull away.

Your lips were inches apart.

You could feel his breath warm on your skin. The promise of a kiss hung in the air, potent and terrifying.

No.

The thought slammed into you like a physical blow. Cold, hard reality. He forgot you at the airport. He missed your promotion dinner. He let work consume every promise. The trust was shattered. This feeling, this closeness blooming in the artificial, emotionally charged atmosphere of a concert… was it real? Or just a temporary high fueled by nostalgia and shared adrenaline? Was three months enough to rebuild what took a year to break?

Panic surged, sharp and cold, dousing the warmth. You pulled back abruptly, breaking the contact, untangling your hand from his. The hurt flashed across Jake’s face, immediate and profound.

"Sorry I … I-I need air," you stammered, already standing up, pushing past knees, desperate to escape the suddenly suffocating closeness, the intensity of his gaze, the terrifying allure of falling back into old patterns. "B-Bathroom."

You didn’t wait for a response. You plunged into the moving crowd, the pulsing music now feeling oppressive, the joyful screams grating.

You needed a concrete, quiet space to think. To breathe. To remember why you walked away.

You pushed through the stadium concourse, the bright lights and smell of popcorn suddenly nauseating, until you found a quieter hallway leading to restrooms.

You leaned against the cool tile wall just outside the men’s room entrance, taking deep, shaky breaths, trying to steady the frantic pounding of your heart. The muffled roar of the concert was a dull throb here. You closed your eyes, pressing the heels of your hands against them.

Idiot. Stupid, sentimental idiot. You know better. You know what happens. The pattern repeats. The disappointment returns. You can’t trust him not to get swept away again.

The sound of hurried footsteps made you open your eyes. Jake stood a few feet away, breathing heavily, his expression a mix of confusion, hurt, and determination.

"What was that?" he demanded, his voice tight. "Back there? You… you felt it too. I know you did—"

"Jake, don’t," you warned, pushing off the wall, wanting to retreat further.

"No," he stepped closer, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a fierce intensity you rarely saw. "Don't shut me out. Not now. Not after… after that. What happened? Why did you pull away?"

"Because it’s not real!" The words burst out, louder than intended, echoing slightly in the tiled hallway. "This! The lights, the music, the fucking nostalgia! It’s a fucking drug, Jake! It makes you forget! But I can’t fucking do that!" The dam broke.

Months of suppressed hurt, disappointment, and the terrifying vulnerability you’d just felt poured out.

"I miss you! Okay? God, I fucking miss you so much it feels like I’m missing a limb most days! Seeing your stupid face on billboards, hearing your laugh in a stupid ad… it kills me! Because I remember what it was like. I remember us."

Jake flinched, but he held his ground, his eyes locked on yours.

"But then," your voice cracked, thick with unshed tears, "I remember waiting at the airport. For an hour, Jake. After three weeks of hell at work, all I wanted was to see you. And you forgot. I remember sitting alone at Minho and Soojin’s engagement, smiling while people asked where my boyfriend was. I remember the promises, Jake! The ‘I’ll slow down’, the ‘next week will be better’, the ‘I’ve got you’ whispered in the dark that just… evaporated. You made me feel like an afterthought. Like I was just another item on your chaotic, overbooked schedule!"

He looked stricken. "I know," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "I know I did. And I hate myself for it. Every single day."

"Do you?" you challenged, the anger a brittle shield against the raw pain. "Because it felt like you just… got swept up. Like you couldn’t help it. Like your career, the shoots, the travel, the excitement… it was just this force that pulled you away, and I was supposed to understand. To just… wait. Indefinitely. Until you remembered I existed."

"That’s not true!" Jake’s voice rose, matching your intensity. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "It was never about you not mattering! You mattered too much. That’s the fucked-up part!" He took another step closer, his eyes pleading.

“Look at me. Please."

Reluctantly, you met his gaze. The pain there was raw, undisguised.

"I got scared," he admitted, the words tumbling out. "It happened so fast. The modeling, the attention, the pressure to say yes to everything… it was like being caught in a riptide. And I panicked. I thought… I thought I had to prove I deserved it. That I had to chase it all, now, before it vanished. And I was so fucking stupid, thinking I could handle it all at once." His voice dropped, thick with emotion. "I thought juggling was possible. That I could keep all the balls in the air. But I dropped the most important one… you."

He gestured helplessly. "I never meant to deceive you. Never. I’m not that guy. You know me. I’m just… I’m just a guy who gets overwhelmed. Who gets into dumb situations because he doesn’t know when to say no, or ask for help, or just… fucking stop. I got lost in the noise.”

A tear tracked down his cheek. “And I lost you." He didn’t wipe it away.

"But these three months… God, Y/N. They haven’t been healing. They’ve been hell. Pure fucking hell. Walking into an empty apartment that used to feel like home? Seeing your coffee mug still in the cupboard? Hearing a song we loved? It’s like a knife. Every single day."

He moved even closer, his presence filling the small space. "I miss us. Not just the good times. I miss the stupid arguments about takeout. I miss watching you rant about work dramas. I miss falling asleep with your head on my chest. I miss the life we were building. I still picture it. Every damn day. I picture coming home to you, really coming home, not just crashing between flights. I picture quiet Sundays. I picture… a future. With you in it. Because it’s the only future I want." He swallowed hard.

"I know I screwed up. Monumentally. I know trust isn’t a switch I can flip. But I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking… begging… for you to consider if it’s possible to start rebuilding. Slowly. Carefully. With me showing you, every single day, that I learned. That I’m learning. That you are the priority. That you always should have been."

His words hung in the air, raw, honest, terrifyingly vulnerable. He laid his heart bare, no defenses, no excuses beyond the fundamental truth of his nature – a good person prone to chaotic stumbles. The anger in you flickered, replaced by a profound ache. He saw your hesitation, the fear warring with the undeniable love you still felt.

"I know you want it too," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I felt it back there. I see it in your eyes right now. Please. Don’t shut the door because you’re scared. I’m scared too. But I’m willing to be terrified with you, if it means trying again."

The silence stretched, filled only by the distant thump of the concert and the frantic beating of your own heart. The fear was paralyzing. The memory of disappointment was sharp. But the love… the deep, ingrained, stubborn love you felt for this chaotic, beautiful, remorseful man… was stronger. It had survived the break. It had fueled the missing. It had drawn you back together in this absurd, painful way.

And looking into his eyes, seeing the raw hope mixed with the fear of rejection, the genuine remorse… You knew he meant it. He wasn’t promising perfection. He was promising effort. Honesty.

A chance.

The dam holding back your own truth finally shattered.

"You have no idea," you choked out, the words raw and ragged. "You have no fucking idea how much I missed you. How much it hurt. How angry I was. How angry I still am sometimes." You took a shuddering breath, the final wall crumbling. "But…" You met his gaze, letting him see everything – the pain, the fear, the undeniable, unkillable love. "Damnit, I still love you!"

The confession echoed off the tiles, loud and desperate and utterly freeing.

Jake didn’t hesitate. He didn’t flinch. A wave of profound relief, mixed with overwhelming emotion, washed over his face. He closed the final distance between you in one stride. His hands came up, framing your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t even realized were falling.

"...And so do I," he breathed, his voice thick with tears, yet filled with a certainty that resonated deep within you. "So do I! Okay! So much it feels like breathing!"

He didn’t kiss you immediately. He searched your eyes, asking permission, seeking confirmation. And in that suspended moment, you saw it. The regret. The love. The determination. The fundamental goodness beneath the foolish mistakes. You saw the man you fell in love with, humbled but not broken, asking not for a guarantee, but for a chance.

You closed the gap.

The kiss wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t the desperate heat of reunion. It was softer. Deeper. A homecoming. A salty mix of tears, the familiar taste of him, and the profound relief of surrender. It was an apology, a promise, and a fragile new beginning all tangled together. It felt like the first solid ground you’d stood on in months.

When you finally pulled back, just inches, foreheads resting together, breathing the same air, a shaky, watery laugh escaped you. "Three months," you murmured, your voice rough. "It really took you three months to figure it all out?"

Jake smiled, a real, full, crinkly-eyed smile that lit up his whole face, chasing away the shadows. He brushed a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. "No," he corrected softly, his eyes holding yours with unwavering sincerity. "I waited three months. Every single agonizing day of it. Just to prove to myself I meant it. Just to be sure I could be better. Just to have the chance to tell you…" He leaned in, pressing another soft, lingering kiss to your lips. "...that I regret being that foolish. More than anything."

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight, burying your face in the familiar curve of his neck. The distant music swelled, a hopeful anthem. The fear wasn't gone. The work ahead loomed large. But holding him, feeling his arms tighten around you in return, the solid, undeniable truth of his presence and his words…

"...And I love you anyway," you whispered against his skin, the words settling into your bones, feeling like the most honest thing you’d ever said.

He held you tighter. "Me too," he breathed. "And I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough at showing just how much I do."

The concert roared on, unseen, unheard by you both. You stood in the quiet hallway, wrapped in each other, the echoes of confessions and the fragile warmth of a tentative new start filling the space where only awkwardness and hurt had been an hour before.

Three months hadn't been enough to heal the wound. But maybe, just maybe, it had been enough time for the roots of something new, something stronger and more aware, to begin to grow.

It wasn't an ending. It was a quiet, tear-streaked, hopeful beginning, forged in honesty and the terrifying, beautiful gamble of love offered a second chance.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — sorry guys i just had the most angsty take from a silly tiktok video HJSFAHFJAS

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

[mybl--dyvalentine]

COMEBACK OMG

you were a dream ;artemas

!pairing- playboy!heeseung x lovergirl!reader

!synopsis: Since freshman year, Y/N has been captivated by Heeseung—the university’s irresistibly handsome but emotionally distant playboy. After finally catching his attention, her next challenge is winning his heart. But can she break through his cold exterior and change the man who’s never stayed for more than a night?

!word count: 582

=======================

The motor roared as the motorcycle zoomed past the light traffic of LA streets. Heeseung, the university’s known playboy, and Y/N, just another piece in one of his games, were driving back to Y/N’s place after a date. Y/N had worked hard to get Heeseung's attention after her second year in university. They met at a frat party, Y/N wearing less than usual, hoping to catch his eye. As a result, they had made out all night- but without any real progression. 

The cold night fought against Y/N and Heeseung’s warmth, Y/N’s body and arms wrapped around Heeseung’s waist, as he drove off the freeway. Heeseung parked in front of Y/N’s driveway once they arrived. Y/N climbed off first, her arms slipping away from Heeseung’s waist. She removed her helmet, revealing her brunette hair, now black in the dark. He followed, raking a hand through his helmet-mussed hair.

“So. What did you think of the ride?” He gave a smirk, taking her helmet and placing it under the seat.

“It was scary at first but once it sped up, I thought it was fun.” She said, smiling, as they both walked towards her front door. He nodded as she spoke. 

“See? What’d I say?” He chuckled as they stood in front of her door.

He took her hand to plant a kiss on the back of her hand, a good bye ritual he gave to each of his dates. 

“Thanks for dropping me off.” Y/N smiled, her chest tightening as his lips brushed the back of her hand. It wasn’t much—but it was enough to make her heart trip. “I really had a great time.”

“No problem, Y/N. Have a good night.” He said, giving a soft smile before beginning to turn to walk back to his motorcycle. 

“Wait-” Y/N said, grabbing his wrist and making him look back.

She released his wrist slowly, biting her inner lip, too nervous to meet his gaze.

Heeseung turned around to face her completely, now putting his hands into his pockets with a bit of an annoyed look, a completely different demeanor from earlier.

“Did you want to stay overnight?” She asked, her voice shaking, looking up at him. 

“Y/N.” He said coldly.

“Why not me?” She said, bursting out in frustration and hurt. “You go on dates with these other girls and always sleep overnight. Do you not find me attractive?” 

Heeseung stayed quiet to observe all her raw emotions closely; her eyes wet but holding back from exploding, and her hands gripped together in anger. 

“Y/N. I know I have a bad reputation for not being a nice guy but I’m not completely trash.” He said and paused once more.

“I know you like me.” He stopped to sigh.

“I wasn’t going to tell you because it’s not your business, but these girls that I sleep with have the same intentions as me. They don’t want a relationship with me, Y/N. But you do.” His voice wavered—not in anger, but in something that sounded dangerously close to guilt.

“Is that so wrong?” Y/N frowned, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“No. But it’s tiring.” He sighed again, looking down at her with no empathy.

Y/N wiped her tears and sniffed her nose. 

“I’m going now. Don’t contact me.” He didn’t look back. The sound of the motor starting was louder than her silence.

And then she was alone.

=======================

[mybl--dyvalentine]

⋆｡°✩ sweet venom ✦ park sunghoon

A truth-or-dare kiss leaves Sunghoon, the campus's famously straight hockey star, haunted by the taste of something he can't explain. Now he's chasing down the one person who might hold the answer – the guy who kissed him and won't stop running.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — park sunghoon x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 3.9k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, sunghoon x reader, hockey star x timid reader, "why can't i forget?", truth or dare consequences, chasing trope, gay panic™, soft sunghoon??, confused boy hours, established feelings??, angsty but soft, "we need to talk", touch-starved desperation

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — male pronouns … swearing … kissing (lots!) … internal screaming … messy gay panic … angst with hopeful vibes … they’ll figure it out (eventually)

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ check my new masterlist — looking for past works? here's the legacy one!

The fluorescent lights of the dorm hallway buzzed like trapped wasps, casting a sickly pallor over the scuffed linoleum. Your heart hammered a frantic tattoo against your ribs, a drum solo of pure panic echoing the slap of your worn sneakers against the floor. You risked a glance over your shoulder. He’s still there.

Park Sunghoon, uni’s golden boy, ice prince of the hockey rink, and certified heartbreaker, was chasing you. Not in the playful, flirty way he pursued the endless stream of girls who sighed over his sharp jawline and effortless cool. No, this was different. This was raw, relentless, fueled by a confusion that radiated off him like heat haze. His usually immaculate dark hair was ruffled, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his shirt and jacket, his eyes locked onto you with unnerving intensity.

"Please, just stop for a second!" His voice, usually smooth and controlled, held an edge of desperation that scraped against your nerves.

You didn't stop. You couldn't. Seven days. Seven days since that stupid, life-upending truth or dare game in Jake’s cramped apartment—seven days since the spin of an empty bottle had landed on you like a curse. Dare. And the collective, drunken cackle that followed: "Kiss Sunghoon! Right now!"

It was meant to be a joke. A hilarious, slightly cruel prank targeting both the notoriously unattainable Sunghoon and you, the guy most famous for sitting out dares and loved lingering on the edge of the party. You’d expected disgust, a flinch, maybe a cold dismissal. You hadn’t expected… what happened.

He’d done it quickly, and mechanically, you felt compelled as well — fueled by the cheap taste of alcohol and a desire to get the humiliation over with. Within a second, you’ve pressed your lips against his, firm and brief.

And then, it lasted three seconds. But in those, something snapped. You felt it – the unexpected softness of his lips against yours, the faint intake of his breath, the way he hadn't pulled away instantly.

He was frozen, his dark eyes wide and utterly stunned as you jerked back, face burning hotter than the soju. The room had erupted in drunken cheers and whoops, the moment swallowed by the party’s noise. But the look in Sunghoon’s eyes… wasn’t anger. Hell, it wasn’t even disgust.

It was pure, unadulterated shock. And something else, something deeper and infinitely more terrifying: confusion.

And now he wouldn’t leave you alone.

He’d tried cornering you after your shared econ lecture yesterday, but you’d ducked out the side door. He’d lingered near your usual lunch spot, but you’d scarfed down your sandwich in the library basement. He’d even shown up at the campus coffee shop where you worked part-time, four times, but you’d conveniently been on your break.

Each time, you saw that same look – the mask cracked, revealing a bewildered man chasing a phantom feeling he couldn't name.

Your dorm room door was in sight. Sanctuary. Just ten more strides. You fumbled in your pocket for the keycard, fingers clumsy with adrenaline.

"I know you can hear me!" Sunghoon’s voice was closer, almost at your shoulder. "I just need you to listen to me—"

You slammed the keycard against the reader. The light blinked green. You wrenched the door open and lunged inside, spinning around to slam it shut.

A hand shot out, stopping the door with jarring force. Sunghoon wedged his shoulder into the gap, breathing hard, his face inches from yours through the narrowing space. His eyes, usually so cool and assessing, were wide, almost wild.

"Go away!" you snapped, pushing against the door with all your weight. It was futile. He was taller, broader, and an athlete used to physical dominance. "Leave me be!"

"Just listen to me—" He insisted, his voice low and strained, pushing back. “Please.”

He pleaded. That made you stop in less than a second.

"About... about what happened." He cleared his throat.

"There’s nothing to talk about." You spoke like it was done, yet the memory of the kiss, the unwanted heat it had sparked in your own traitorous body, all came flooding back.

"It was a stupid dare … and a stupid game! So carry on and just forget about it!"

"Well, that's a shame, because I can't!" The admission burst out of him, raw and ragged. He stopped pushing for a second, his expression crumbling into pure, agonized confusion. "I can't forget it. That's the fucking problem.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice, so alien coming from him, made you hesitate for a fraction of a second. It was enough to lose leverage. He shoved the door open fully, forcing you to stumble back into your small, utilitarian dorm room. He stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him with a finality that echoed in the sudden silence. He leaned back against it, blocking your only escape, his chest still heaving.

The space felt instantly smaller, charged with his presence and the frantic energy he brought with him. Posters of stuff you liked suddenly seemed childish. The textbooks stacked on your desk felt like irrelevant clutter. All that existed was the tension coiling between you and Park Sunghoon, pressed against your door like a hunted animal, just as lost as you felt.

"We have nothing to talk about, Sunghoon," you repeated, your voice tight, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. You took another step back, putting the small desk between you. Your crush on him? That had died months ago, suffocated by witnessing the careless way he’d shattered your friend Mina’s heart when she’d confessed her feelings. He’d been kind, perhaps, but brutally clear. Not interested. Then he’d been seen with another girl the very next weekend. He was a beautiful chaos, and you wanted no part of it. Especially not now, tangled up in this bewildered display of sexuality.

"We do," he insisted, pushing off the door. He didn’t advance, but his presence filled the room. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, a gesture of pure frustration. "I have time, and it seems you do too. We’re here right now.”

He looked at you, his face still ridden with confusion. “Why are you running? Why won’t you just… talk to me?"

"Because there’s nothing to say!" Your voice rose slightly. "You kissed a fucking guy on a dare. Big deal. It happens. Move on!"

"But I can't!" The words exploded from him. He took a step forward, then stopped himself, clenching his fists at his sides as if physically restraining himself. His gaze was intense, almost pleading. "That’s what I’m trying to tell you! It wasn’t just… nothing. It wasn’t just a stupid dare kiss."

He paused, swallowing hard. The silence stretched, taut and uncomfortable. You could see the conflict warring on his face – the ingrained confidence of the popular guy battling this terrifying new uncertainty. His voice dropped to a near whisper, rough with confusion.

"It… it felt different. It lingered. Like… I can still feel it." He unconsciously raised his fingers to brush against his own lips, his eyes distant for a second before snapping back to yours, wide and searching. "Why? Why does it feel like that? Why can’t I get it out of my head? Why are you the only thing I’ve thought about for almost seven fucking days?"

The directness, the raw admission, hit you like a physical blow. He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t playing games. He was genuinely, desperately confused. And it was … really terrifying.

"You’re straight, Sunghoon," you stated flatly, clinging to the known quantity, the safe label. "Fucking straight as hell. Everyone knows it. You date girls. You kiss girls. That’s your lane. This?" You gestured vaguely between you. "It was a weird blip. A misfire. Adrenaline, maybe. The shock of it. Just… let it go."

"But it didn’t feel like a blip!" he countered, frustration boiling over again. He paced a short, agitated path in the limited floor space. "It felt… I don’t know! Intense. Real. More real than half the kisses I’ve had that weren’t fucking dares!" He stopped pacing, pinning you with his gaze. "How did you feel? Did it feel like nothing to you?"

The question caught you off guard. Heat flooded your cheeks. You looked away, focusing on the chipped paint on the windowsill. How did it feel? It felt like lightning in a bottle. It felt like every stupid, repressed fantasy you’d ever entertained about him condensed into three unbearable seconds. It felt like falling off a cliff. And then it felt like hitting the ground when you remembered who he was, what he did. But you couldn’t tell him that. You wouldn’t give him that power.

"It felt like a fucking dare, that’s what." You lied, forcing your voice to be steady. "Uncomfortable. Embarrassing. Something that should be easy to forget."

He stared at you, his expression shifting from frustration to something like disbelief, then suspicion. "You’re not a good liar, I can tell." It wasn’t an accusation, more a quiet realization. "You flinched when I asked, and you keep avoiding my eyes. It wasn’t nothing to you either, was it?"

Panic flared. "It doesn’t matter how I felt! The point is, you shouldn’t be feeling anything! You’re Park Sunghoon! You skate through life charming everyone, breaking hearts without a second thought! You don’t get to be confused! You don’t chase people, let alone a guy like me, down hallways because of a stupid kiss!" Your own frustration, fueled by weeks of avoidance and the sheer absurdity of the situation, spilled out. "You rejected Mina, remember? Sweet, amazing Mina who actually liked you? You broke her heart without blinking, and then you were probably kissing someone else by Friday! That’s who you are! So why are you suddenly having an existential crisis over me? What’s so special about this kiss?"

The mention of Mina seemed to land like a physical blow. Sunghoon flinched, a flicker of genuine guilt crossing his features before being swallowed by sheer bewilderment. "I… Mina… that was different. That wasn’t…" He trailed off, running both hands over his face. "This isn’t about Mina! This is about that kiss! And I don’t know why it’s different! That’s why I’m here! That’s why I’m chasing you, okay? Because I need to understand! I need… I need to know if it was just the shock, or the alcohol, or…" He looked at you, his eyes filled with a terrifying vulnerability. "Or if it was you."

The air crackled. His words hung between you, charged and dangerous. If it was you. Your carefully constructed walls trembled. The crush you thought was dead stirred uneasily in its grave.

"Pure and utter shit. You don’t know what you’re saying," you whispered, your voice hoarse.

"I know I don’t!" he shot back, taking another step towards the desk. The barrier felt flimsy now. "That’s the whole point! I’ve never felt like this before. Never questioned… questioned this." He gestured vaguely at himself. "I liked the feeling … of kissing you. A lot. More than I should have. More than makes any fucking sense. And it’s driving me crazy that I can’t figure out why. And you… you won’t even look at me. You run. You hide. It’s like you know something I don’t. Like you have the answer and you’re just… torturing me."

"I don’t have any answers!" you protested, finally meeting his eyes. The pain and confusion you saw there were staggering. "What do you want me to say, Sunghoon? That maybe you’re not as straight as you thought? That maybe you liked kissing a guy? Is that what you want to hear? Are you ready for that?"

He paled slightly, the implications hitting him. His knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of your desk. "I… I don’t know," he admitted, the words dragged out of him. "All I know is what I felt. And what I feel now. This… this obsession. It’s not normal. Not for me. You’re all I think about. That kiss. The way your lips felt. The look in your eyes when you pulled away. I replay it constantly. I can’t sleep. I can’t focus in practice. Coach yelled at me today because I missed an easy pass. Because I was thinking about you." He laughed, a short, humorless sound.

“Your kiss felt like a lingering side effect of some kind of strong venom.” He spoke lowly. “And it tasted so fucking sweet that I couldn't forget it.”

The sheer desperation in his confession was disarming. He wasn’t the cool, collected, silent charmer right now. He was a lost boy, adrift in uncharted territory, and he’d latched onto you as the only landmark in the fog. Your anger began to ebb, replaced by a confusing mix of pity and that treacherous, reawakened spark.

"You think it’s easy for me?" you asked quietly, your own defenses lowering. "Having you chase me? Uncovering by myself that it’s my kiss… that affected you? That it wasn’t just meaningless to you? I avoided you for a reason. Because seeing you confused, seeing you like this… it brings it all back.” You took a long second to sigh. “I had this … stupid crush on you when I first got here. Then I came to know who you are, and I still looked at you that way. It was like gambling all my savings and chocking it down a pit to hell."

Sunghoon’s eyes widened slightly. "You… you had a crush? On me?" He sounded genuinely surprised, as if the idea had never occurred to him.

"Had," you emphasized firmly. "Past tense. Mina was my friend. Seeing how you treated her… it killed it. Dead and buried. Or so I fuckin’ thought." You sighed, rubbing your temples. "You have become an undeniable burden inside my head right now."

Silence descended again, thicker this time, charged with shared confusion and the ghosts of past feelings. Sunghoon leaned heavily on the desk, his head bowed. "I didn’t… I didn’t mean to hurt Mina," he mumbled, not looking at you. "I just… I wasn’t into her like that. I told her the truth. Thinking about it … maybe I could have been… gentler. But I wasn’t trying to be cruel. That’s just… dating. People get rejected."

"Not everyone moves on to the next conquest quite so quickly," you pointed out, unable to keep the slight edge from your voice.

He winced. "Okay." He finally looked up, his gaze searching yours. "But this… this thing with you… it’s not like that. It’s not about conquest. It’s about… figuring out why my brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. Why you." He took a shaky breath. "Look, I don’t know what any of this means. Maybe I’m having a breakdown. Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe… maybe I just need to know if it was a one-off thing. If it was just the context."

“What do you mean—”

His eyes held yours, intense and pleading. "Please. Just… let me try again?"

Your breath hitched. "Try what??"

"Isn’t it obvious?" He spoke in such cadence that you couldn’t believe your ears right now. "Not… not as a dare. Not in a game. Just… me. Trying to understand. One more time. So I can know. So I can figure out if it was the kiss… or if it was you."

The audacity was breathtaking. The vulnerability, terrifying. He was offering himself up like a test subject, risking everything he thought he knew about himself. Your mind raced. It was insane. Reckless. Potentially disastrous. He was Park Sunghoon. He broke hearts. He didn’t do confusion. He didn’t chase guys into their dorm rooms begging for experimental kisses.

But the look in his eyes… the raw, bewildered need for answers… the echo of that kiss that had felt electrifyingly real…

"You’re out of your mind," you breathed.

"You might be correct," he agreed, a ghost of his usual wry smirk touching his lips, but it vanished instantly, replaced by earnestness. "But I need this. I need to know. And you…" He hesitated. "You seem to be the only variable in this equation. Please. Just… help me figure this out?"

He wasn’t demanding. He was asking. Pleading. The silent yet deadly Park Sunghoon, the untouchable heartthrob, was reduced to asking for your help navigating his own identity crisis. The absurdity was almost comical. The danger was palpable.

"What if you kissed me again," you asked slowly, your voice barely above a whisper, "and you still like it?"

He swallowed hard, the Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He looked terrified. "Then… then I guess I have some serious thinking to do."

"And what if you kiss me," you pressed, your heart hammering again, "and you don’t like it? What then? Do I just become the weird guy you kissed twice? Another story for the locker room?"

His expression hardened with unexpected seriousness. "No. Never. This… whatever this is… it’s not a joke to me. It’s not a story. It’s… it’s real. And it’s scary as hell. But I need to know. And also, I don't do locker room talk. That's what attention seekers are for." He took a tentative step around the desk, closing the distance slightly. "Whatever happens… it stays between us. I promise.”

The space between you crackled. His scent – rich parfum, faint sweat, something uniquely Sunghoon – filled your senses. You saw the faint tremble in the hand resting on the desk. You saw the vulnerability warring with his ingrained confidence. You saw the genuine, bewildered need in his dark eyes.

It was madness. Pure, unadulterated madness.

But the kind of madness that felt inevitable.

"One kiss," you said, the words escaping before you could stop them. "Just… to see. Then you leave. And we figure out… whatever comes after. Or we don’t."

Relief, stark and overwhelming, flooded his features, followed immediately by a fresh wave of nervous tension. He nodded, a sharp jerk of his chin. "Okay. One kiss."

He didn’t move. Neither did you. The air felt thick, charged with anticipation and fear. The memory of the first kiss – quick, public, fueled by alcohol and peer pressure – was a blur. This was deliberate. Conscious. Terrifyingly intimate in the quiet solitude of your dorm room.

Slowly, hesitantly, Sunghoon closed the remaining distance. He stood before you, tall and imposing, yet radiating a fragility you’d never seen. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again, a silent question hanging in the air.

You didn’t nod. You didn’t speak. You simply held his gaze, your own heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. This was his experiment. His journey. You were just… the catalyst.

He took a final, shallow breath, then leaned in.

It wasn’t like the first kiss. Not at all.

The first kiss had been a collision. This was an exploration. His lips met yours softly, tentatively, a brush of warmth and pressure that sent an immediate jolt through your system. It was hesitant, questioning. He pulled back slightly, just a fraction, his eyes searching yours, looking for permission, for a sign.

Yet you didn’t pull away. The spark you’d felt before ignited instantly, brighter, hotter. Your traitorous body leaned into it, just a little.

Encouraged, or perhaps driven by the same bewildering pull, he leaned in again. This time, the kiss deepened. Still soft, still questioning, but with a growing certainty. His lips moved against yours, not demanding, but learning. One hand tentatively came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone. The touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine.

He tasted faintly of mint. His breathing hitched, warm against your skin. The world narrowed to the point where your lips met, to the feel of his hand on your face, to the frantic beating of your own heart. The confusion, the fear, the past hurts… for a moment, they all receded, drowned out by the sheer, overwhelming sensation. It wasn’t just physical. It felt… profound. Like a connection snapping into place, something fundamental is shifting beneath the surface.

Sunghoon made a small, involuntary sound against your lips – a sigh, a gasp, a gravelly moan that was something raw and unfiltered. It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t indifference. It was discovery. It was liking. And it was more than liking. His hand tightened slightly on your jaw, not painfully, but possessively, as if anchoring himself to the moment. To you.

The kiss lasted longer than the dare. Seconds stretched into moments that felt suspended in time. When he finally pulled back, it was slow, reluctant, almost hesitant to part ways. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, breathing ragged. His hand remained on your jaw, trembling faintly as he felt it with his thumb.

You were both breathing heavily. The silence in the room was deafening, filled only by the sound of your shared breaths and the frantic thudding of your hearts.

Sunghoon slowly opened his eyes. They were wide, dark pools reflecting pure, unadulterated shock. But beneath them, shimmering like sunlight through deep water, was something else. Wonder? Dawning realization? Terror mixed with awe?

He didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, his gaze tracing your face as if seeing you for the first time – the curve of your lips, the shape of your eyes, the faint flush on your cheeks. The confusion was still there, yes, but it was transforming, morphing into something deeper, more profound.

He swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet room. His thumb brushed your cheekbone again, a soft, almost reverent touch.

"Oh," he breathed, the single syllable laden with a universe of meaning. It wasn’t a conclusion. It wasn’t an answer. It was the beginning of a terrifying, exhilarating question.

Oh.

He didn’t leave. He stayed there, forehead resting against yours, his hand warm on your face, breathing in the shared air of the small room where his entire world had just tilted on its axis.

The chase for answers wasn't over. If anything, it had just become infinitely more complex. But the frantic, confused pursuit had ended. Now, there was only the quiet, shared dawning of something entirely new, fragile, and terrifyingly real.

The settlement wasn't a neat resolution, but a hesitant, breathless agreement to step onto uncharted ground together. The panic was still there, thrumming under the surface, but it was now intertwined with a fragile, burgeoning hope.

“It is you.” He spoke in just the right tone.

He’d found his answer, or at least the first step towards it. All in the lingering warmth on his lips and the wide, startled wonder in your eyes.

The playboy was gone. In his place stood a young man utterly lost, yet somehow, finally found.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — HAHAHAHA ANOTHER SUNGHOON FIC ARRIVES also for the kiss, imagine that one kiss they did in lovely runner after she jumps back in time and ryu sun jae just kisses him by the door!? HELLO!?!  and yeah, I made YOU a good kisser, AND WHAT OF IT

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ check my new masterlist — and here's the legacy one!

made by writhyv 💘

[mybl--dyvalentine]

when's ur next drop??

wow um... idk actually

[mybl--dyvalentine]

i voted for this thank you very much

⋆｡°✩ locked out and locked in ✦ sim jaeyun

scenario one, maybe i picked up the wrong keys because the landlord explaining the rules was booooring; scenario two, maybe the keys are sooo ancient they started crumbling when they approached the lock; or scenario three, im totally unlucky today. (jake, probably)

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — sim jaeyun x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — fluff, really fluffy, just jake being a certified dumbass for fidgeting the keys to his new apt, bro's a giggle boy, bro kicking his feet when he realizes he's in love, bro down bad

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — too much sim jaeyun liking, like i'm in love with this man too much HSAGSHGFDAGEGH!!!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.7k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ looking for my main masterlist? — here's the legacy one!

It was just another quiet evening in your cramped but cozy apartment—the kind of evening that should’ve been spent buried in textbooks, cursing your life choices, and drinking lukewarm coffee.

And that’s exactly what you were doing.

You slumped over your desk, damp highlighter ink smudged on your cheek, squinting at a paragraph that might as well have been written in ancient Greek. The walls were thin in this building, but normally, the worst you had to deal with was your neighbor’s questionable taste in late-night TV.

Then the noises started.

At first, it was just a few thumps. Maybe someone dropping something heavy. No big deal.

Then came the scratching.

Then the jiggling.

You froze, pen hovering mid-air. That… didn’t sound like a dropped textbook. That sounded like someone … was trying to break into the apartment next door.

Your heart kicked into overdrive. Robber? Your grip tightened around your pen like it was a weapon.

You crept to the door, pressing your ear against the wood. More rustling. More jiggling. A frustrated groan—definitely not your usual neighbor.

Adrenaline surged. You weren’t about to let some thief waltz in and steal Mrs. Park’s collection of ceramic frogs.

You swung your door open, ready to fight.

And there he was.

A guy who’s tall, disheveled, and stupidly attractive — frozen mid-struggle with a key that clearly wasn’t working. He had one foot braced against the doorframe, hands wrestling with the lock like it had personally offended him. His dark hair was mussed from frustration, cheeks slightly flushed, and when he turned at the sound of your door, his wide, startled eyes locked onto yours.

For half a second, time stopped.

Then you lunged.

"HEY—"

You didn’t just grab the poor thing—oh no. You full-body tackled him and flipped him upside down.

The second his back hit the hallway carpet with a thud, you were on top of him, knees pinning his hips, hands gripping his wrists like you were some kind of action hero.

"WAITWAITWAIT—!" He threw his hands up, stumbling back as you grabbed his arm in what you thought was a martial arts move but was probably closer to a desperate octopus attack.

"I'M NOT A ROBBER!"

You didn’t let go. "Then tell me why did I just catch you breaking in?"

"Breaking i- I live here!" His voice cracked. "I just—ugh—moved in today and my key won’t work!"

You squinted. He looked… sincere. Also slightly pathetic, still disheveled under your mercy against the floor, looking like a kicked puppy.

Slowly, you loosened your grip. "…You’re serious?"

"Yes!" He exhaled, rubbing his arm where you’d grabbed him (oops). "I’m Jake. New student. Just transferred. Landlord gave me the wrong key, I think." He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I’ve been out here forever."

Oh.

Oh no.

Because now that the adrenaline was fading, you really looked at him.

This Jake guy? Boy was he unfairly pretty.

His brown eyes were warm, even when stressed. His lips were pursed in a pout that should not have been cute. And his voice—slightly heavy and thick with an accent, slightly whiny too—was doing things to your pulse that definitely weren’t fight-or-flight anymore.

You cleared your throat, scratching your itchy nape and about. "Uh. Right. Sorry about the—" You mimed strangling him.

He laughed. Actually laughed, head tilting back, and wow, okay, that was a problem. "It’s fine," he grinned. "I’d have freaked out too."

You scratched the back of your neck. "I can call the landlord for you?"

His whole face lit up. "Please?"

Just as you were about to pull out your phone, the door across the hall creaked open.

Old Mr. Kim, your perpetually grumpy neighbor, stood there in his pajamas, squinting at the scene: You still hovered over Jake at the floor, his shirt rucked up from the struggle, both of you flushed and breathing hard.

A beat of silence.

Then Mr. Kim smirked.

"Tch. Kids these days," he muttered. "Can’t even wait until inside the apartment, huh?"

Your face burned. "No—we weren’t—"

He waved a hand. "Save it. Just keep the noise down."

Then, with a knowing chuckle, he added:

"I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone."

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

You were still hovering over Jake.

Jake’s face was now the color of a ripe tomato.

Slowly, painfully aware of how this looked, you rolled off him and onto the floor, staring at the ceiling.

"Ugh …" you said, voice strained. "That happened."

Jake covered his face with his hands. "I’m never recovering from this. This is definitely a lesson about shame and dignity."

You groaned. "Same."

A pause.

Then, despite everything—you both started laughing.

Jake peeked through his fingers, grinning. "Guess we really made an impression on the neighbors."

You snorted. "At least now they won’t call the cops when we actually break in."

Jake’s smile softened. "...Worth it."

And oh, the way he was looking at you—all warm and fond and interested—made your stomach flip. Again. Did I mention ‘again’? Whatever technicality it might seem, your guts just couldn’t handle this much fuzz.

Ten minutes later, the landlord arrived, grumbling about "kids these days" as he fixed the lock. Jake stood next to you, arms crossed, his shoulder brushing yours every time he shifted.

And that’s when you noticed.

The glances.

The way his eyes kept flicking to you when he thought you weren’t looking.

The smile he tried (and failed) to hide when you cracked a dumb joke about the landlord’s choice in keychains.

By the time the door finally creaked open, Jake hesitated before stepping inside.

"Hey," he said, softer now. "Thanks for, uh. Not actually murdering me."

You snorted. "Anytime."

He bit his lip. Then, in a rush: "We should hang out. Since we’re neighbors. And, y’know. You’re cool."

Cool? Cool?! Jake wanted to kick himself.

Ask his name, you idiot, you didn’t even ask for his name!

Flooded with unspoken thoughts, Jake just smiled—slow and sweet. And you? You knew exactly how flustered Jake was.

"Yeah," he said, soft. "I’d like that."

Jake’s heart then stuttered.

He was so screwed.

—

The glow of streetlights bled through the thin curtains, painting stripes of gold across Jake’s ceiling. He lay there, limbs splayed like a starfish, one arm thrown over his eyes as if that could block out the memory—the phantom weight of you pressed against him, the way your knee had dug into his hip just shy of painful, the sharp inhale you’d taken when he’d blurted out We should hang out like some clumsy teenager.

His skin still burned where you’d touched him.

God.

He rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow hard enough to stifle the pathetic noise crawling up his throat.

Who falls for someone like this?

Who got pinned to the floor in a half-assed wrestling move and walked away with his pulse hammering for hours? (Him. Obviously.)

The worst part wasn’t the embarrassment—though that was bad, sure, especially with old neighbor’s knowing smirk burned into his brain. No, the worst part was the way his chest ached with it, the way his fingers twitched against the sheets like they were searching for something to hold onto.

The way he could still smell you—that stupidly good smelling shampoo, the sharp bite of adrenaline-sweat, the warmth of your breath when you’d leaned in to apologize.

He groaned, kicking at the tangled sheets. He was kicking his feet in the air like a giggly young girl.

He was never going to sleep again.

—

Dawn came too soon, pale and insistent, creeping through the gaps in the blinds. Jake blinked gritty eyes at the ceiling, vaguely aware that he’d dozed off at some point—though rested was too generous a word for the way his thoughts had spun in frantic circles all night.

He dragged himself upright, rubbing a hand over his face. His mouth tasted like regret and stale toothpaste.

The floor was cold under his bare feet as he shuffled to the door, half-convinced last night had been some sleep-deprived fever dream.

Then he saw it.

A scratched note from a pad, brightly lined and white against the hardwood floor, snuck underneath the apartment door.

Jake’s breath caught.

He reached for it slowly, as if it might vanish under his fingertips. The paper was slightly wrinkled at the edges, like you’d hesitated before sliding it there.

"Sorry again for the assault. Here’s a peace offering. —Your (Hopefully) Favorite Neighbor"

Curious, Jake opened his door and saw a set of goods sitting in the entrance, as if it were diligently waiting for him.

Inside a large paper bag was a large cup of freshly brewed espresso from the café across the street, still warm to the touch, condensation beading along its sides. Next to it, a small plastic case, its still warm with moisture—inside, two glazed donuts, perfectly golden, their sugary surfaces gleaming under the hallway light.

Jake’s fingers lightly tingled as he picked up the coffee.

He took a sip.

Perfect.

Not too bitter, not too sweet—just right, the way he always took it. Was it a lucky guess?

Jake pressed the heel of his hand against his sternum, like he could physically shove down the thing fluttering behind his ribs.

The note crinkled in his grip.

He should not be this affected by a goddamn scratched letter.

But then he traced the curve of your handwriting—messy, hurried, the Y in Your looping like you’d started to write something else—and his throat went tight.

He pressed the note to his chest before he could stop himself, closing his eyes.

The coffee was perfect.

The donuts were perfect.

You were—

Jake exhaled, long and shaky, and took another sip to hide the smile tugging at his lips.

Yeah.

He was so, so screwed.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — ANADA JAKE HIT BRUHHHHH also i missed you all .. i will write more i was just stuck in uni but also AAAAAA JAKE JAKE I LOVE YOU i just know this guy is too adorable when he realizes he's in love bruh

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

[mybl--dyvalentine]

Jonny જ⁀➴ Ni-ki

✮ non idol college student ni-ki x gn reader

✮ Summary: Your best friend encouraged you to go out with the guy that she previously dated. Even though he wanted you first and the two of you got together, it seemed like he wasn't as interested as he made himself look.

✮ Genre: Fluff and Angst

✮ Word Count: 3,708

✮ Author's Note: i finally uploaded a fic this year! who else cheered? this was a request from an anonymous person from like a year ago... sorry for taking so long and tysm for the idea! this is also not proof-read so sorry for any mistakes in advance.

The sound of pencils on paper filled the classroom. Some students were overflowing with despair due to their lack of studying for the exam and you were one of them. Every time you tried to answer a question, your mind drew a blank.

Your professor makes an announcement, ripping you out of your thoughts, "By the way guys, you have around 15 minutes left until you turn in your exam to me".

You quickly start to fill out your test, not caring if the questions were correct. As long as they were answered you were bound to get some right. After finishing your exam, you take a look around the classroom. Many of your classmates were still working and looked stressed out. The only other person who wasn't writing was Niki. The guy that your best friend dated a while back. She broke up with him because they "weren't compatible". But to just about everyone else, they seemed perfect together.

Time passed while you were daydreaming about Niki and by the time you noticed, everyone was turning in their tests.

"Y/n. Did you not hear me when I called everyone up to hand in their exam?" Your professor asks.

"I'm sorry, I didn't but here," you say while handing her your exam.

She grabs the exam and says, "Please pay attention next time."

You give her a nod and walk back to your desk to grab your bag. Your best friend is waiting at the door so the two of you can go home.

"Y/n, what were you dreaming about during the exam?" She asks.

"Oh- um.. not much. I was just trying to pass the time," you respond.

Her eyes lower and she says, "Hm. Okay. Let's go then!"

---

"You should totally try dating Niki," she says.

Your face contorts and you say, "Wh-what?! Where did this come from?"

"I don't know, I just think the two of you would be good for each other."

"Isn't that weird though? You guys dated before."

"I don't really mind, plus I'm the one telling you to try it out."

She sees that you still don't seem convinced and says, "It's fine, really. I want to see how this plays out anyways."

So it started. Little nudges from your best friend eventually got you and Niki close to each other. It began with her forcing you to ask him for a pencil. Then it was asking for help on certain questions you knew how to do. Finally, you asked for his number since the two of you were going to do a group project together.

Niki: hey Y/n: hii Niki: when do you wanna meet up to work on the group project? Y/n: i can do this weekend. is saturday good for you? Niki: yeah, there's this cafe i've been wanting to go to, can we go there and do it? Y/n: sounds like a plan! see you there.

After sending that last message, you quickly switch to messaging your best friend to inform her of your newfound plans with Niki.

Y/n: soooooo i may or may not be seeing Niki this weekend... Bff/n: omg! really?? Y/n: yeah we kinda planned it rn Bff/n: this is great progress! i'll be expecting an update soon then. Y/n: alright, alright. don't expect too much though. we're just working on a project. Bff/n: whatever you say..

---

You arrive at the cafe just a bit before your agreed meeting time with Niki. After stepping in, you look around to see if he made it there before you did. You were slightly surprised to see his face in the room and make your way over to where he was sat.

You wave and say, "Hey."

He looks up from his phone and says, "oh, you're here early."

"You were here earlier than me." You say while chuckling.

He laughs and gestures you to take a seat across from him. You pull out you laptop and other items you needed to make the project. The two of you spent hours in that cafe, attempting to get as much done as you guys could. The cafe slowly cleared out while you were hard at work. By the time you decided that you were finished for the day, it was already dark out and the cafe was pretty much empty.

"Should we head out?", Niki says while looking at his phone to check the time.

"Yeah, it's gotten pretty late." You respond.

You pack your things up and head outside with Niki. The moment you step out of the cafe, you feel something wet land onto your nose. Then it was your cheek and then it was your lip.

While reaching out to see if it more would fall onto your arm you say, "Is it seriously raining right now?"

Your arm was met with many, many droplets of water causing you to sigh loudly. Unfortunately, you didn't bring an umbrella with you to the cafe, so now you're left to make a run for it to your apartment. Just as you psyched yourself up and were about to book it, you were pulled back by your arm. You turn to look at what forced you to stay and you see that it was Niki.

"Here, take this." He says while holding an umbrella towards you.

"Oh, thank you but I'll be fine. You should take it." You say.

"You should take it, I don't want you getting sick."

"I'll be okay, really. I don't get sick often!"

His expression changes, showing that he doesn't fully believe you.

"Alright, let me just walk you home then."

He opens the umbrella and steps out into the rain. He turns around and gestures you to join him under the umbrella. You cautiously duck under the umbrella, avoiding getting any more rain drops on you and the two of you began to head to your place.

---

The rain seemed to let up a bit by the time you guys got to your apartment. Niki walked you all the way to your door, which you didn't expect.

You turned around to face Niki and said, "Thank you, for walking me all the way to my door even though you didn't have to."

"No problem, I wanted to make sure you got home safe. Can't have my partner go missing before we finish the project." He says while chuckling.

You roll your eyes and say, "Ha. Ha. Very funny."

You find yourself staring at him while he laughs at his own joke. His smile might just make you melt. But, these thoughts are unfamiliar to you. This guy who you thought you didn't really like is starting to creep into your mind and pitch a camp there. Would it be bad if he did? Surely not. While you were clouded by your thoughts, you failed to see that Niki was already done laughing and was looking at you. He noticed that you were deep in thought and was holding his gaze onto you for a while.

"Uh-, I think I'll get going now." He says and coughs into his hand.

His words pull you out of your head and you say, "Oh yeah, sorry. Thank you again!"

This time, you notice that he's staring at you. His eyes lingering on your face. The way he's looking at you makes you nervous and you start to feel itchy.

"Is there... something on my face?" You ask while tilting your head.

His face contorts, as if he's embarrassed you caught him staring and he says, "No... I just um... can I hug you?"

"S-sure." You say while holding out your arms.

He moves in between your arms and wraps his arms around you. His body is quite warm, and you start to relax. You feel his grip tighten a bit before he lets go and takes a few steps back.

"Okay, um. I'll see you around." He says and turns around to leave.

"Bye!" You yell after he's a good distance from you.

After entering your apartment, you pull out your phone to text your best friend.

Y/n: so um... i'm back home Bff/n: tell me everything. Y/n: not much happened really Bff/n: still! i wanna hear Y/n: okay, okay. all we did was just meet up at a cafe to work on the project. Bff/n: he didn't make any advances towards you? Y/n: no, not that i know of Y/n: he did walk me home though Y/n: it was raining Bff/n: omg. Bff/n: he's literally obsessed with you. Y/n: he's literally not, he just walked me home 🙄 Bff/n: if that's not a sign, idk what is Y/n: we also hugged before he left Bff/n: Y/n. Bff/n: there's no way he doesn't have some sort of feelings towards you. Y/n: idk... he's just being nice Bff/n: talk to me when you wake up.

You scoff while locking your phone, not believing that she told you to "wake up". After recalling the past events, you ultimately decided that Niki doesn't like you the way that Bff/n thinks he does. It's just that he's being nice and wants to become friends. You think. Right?

---

The next few weeks were full of studying and hard work, especially with the due date of the project you and Niki are working on coming up fast. The two of you made good progress, finishing around 4 days before the project is due. Every time you guys met up to work on the project, you found yourself staying longer and getting closer with Niki. It was only natural. Meeting up all the time would eventually get you close to someone. Niki did get really comfortable with you though. He moved from sitting across from you to next to you. Sometimes, he would fall asleep and wake up whenever his head hit your shoulder. A playful banter was often shared between you two and he would buy you food almost every time, taking note of which foods you said you liked and bringing them to your study "dates".

Your texts with Niki also changed. He would send you videos he found funny or of places that he says he wants to visit with you. Bff/n said again and again that Niki wants you, bad. You always brushed her belief off though. Until you received a text from Niki during the weekend.

Niki: are you busy today? Y/n: no, what's up? Niki: be ready in 15 minutes. Y/n: um, okay...

Your mind starts to race. Why did Niki just invite you to go out with little to no time for you to get ready? If he were to take you to somewhere nice, he would've given you more time no? You decided to wear something casual and barely managed to get everything else situated before he texted you that he was outside. After stepping out, you see that he's standing there with his arm behind his back. He's dressed casually as well and you let out a sigh of relief.

He smiles and says, "Hi."

"Hey. What's all this about?" You ask.

"I wanted to hang out today." He says while moving his arm from behind him to in front.

He reveals a bouquet, full of an array of your favorite flowers.

"This is for you, I didn't know if you'd like just one so I got you a lot."

You take the bouquet out of his hands and say, "Wow, thank you. I'm surprised you remembered what my favorite flowers are."

"Of course, I remember a lot of things." He says.

He watches you admire the flowers and smiles to himself, feeling proud.

"Alright, let's go. There's a lot to do today." He says.

You look at him and say, "Oh, okay."

He leads to his car and he opens the passenger door for you and takes the bouquet out of your hands. He gets into the driver's seat and carefully places the bouquet in the back seat. After turning on the car, he puts on one of your playlists and starts to drive.

"If you don't mind me asking, where are we headed to?" You ask.

"We're headed to the park. I wanted to paint and have a picnic." He responds.

You smile at his idea and say, "That sounds pretty fun. I'm glad you're taking me along."

He smiles and says, "Yeah, me too."

He pulls into the park's parking lot and tells you to stay put. You check your phone and respond to some messages. You hear the passenger door unlock and you look up to see Niki holding his hand out for you to grab. He's carrying a bag filled to the brim. You take his hand and he guides you out of the car.

You smile and say, "Thank you."

He says, "Of course.", and then closes the door and locks his car. With your hands still together, he takes the chance to lead you to a nice spot under a tree near a lake. You watch as he lays down a picnic blanket and sets up an easel, the paints, and paintbrushes. He motions you to take a seat across from him and you do it.

While sitting down you say, "We should do that trend where they paint each other."

"We should! I was going to say that too." He says.

You both start to paint each other and there were some obstacles. He kept moving and you had to tell him to stay still multiple times. He accidentally flicked a bit of paint onto you which started a little paint fight. After about 30 minutes, you decided that you were done with painting. When you told Niki you were done, he smiled and said he was too. He tells you to go first and you show him your painting.

He stifles a laugh and says, "It's amazing. You should pursue art as a career."

You roll your eyes knowing he's joking around but you notice there was some sincereness in his tone.

"Alright, are you ready for mine?" He asks.

You give him a nod and he turns his painting around. It takes you a while to register but once you do, you see it says "Y/n, will you let me be your boyfriend?". It was as if the world stopped and it was only you and Niki. You slowly look up and see the Niki is eagerly waiting for your response. Surprisingly, it didn't take you much thought before you gave him your answer.

"Yes, Niki, you can be my boyfriend." You say.

It doesn't take long before you're lifted off of your feet. Niki quickly gets up and pulls you in for a hug, spinning you around.

He stops spinning you and looks into your eyes.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to hear that."

---

Your relationship started off great. Niki took you on dates often, gave you gifts on every holiday, and saw you as much as he could. When you guys graduated from college, you decided to take your relationship a bit further and move in with Niki. During the second year of living with him, he brought home a puppy for you because you kept talking about wanting to have one.

Bff/n and you slowly started to grow apart. It began just after you graduated and moved away to live with Niki. At the start, she would text and call you about meeting and catching up almost every week but as time went on she stopped. There were times that the two of you would text but it would only be brief. You were left thinking about what happened and why you guys grew apart.

That is until you saw Bff/n while you were out. You needed to run some errands and Niki was at work so you went by yourself. After picking up the things you needed, you decided to stop by the cafe where you and Niki worked on the project during college. You ordered your drink and looked for a place to sit. While scanning the room, you saw a familiar face. It was Bff/n and she was alone at a table doing something on her laptop. Looking for answers, you take the chance to question her about her actions.

"Bff/n?" You say.

"Ye-" She looks at you and her face drops.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" She asks.

You take a seat across from her and say, "I just wanted to get a drink but I saw you. It's been a while, how have you been?"

She looks at you nervously.

"I've been good, what about you?"

"Life's been great! I've been enjoying work and now I have a dog so there's a lot to do at home. You know, taking care of Niki and the dog is a lot of work."

"Yeah... I'm sure it is. Speaking of Niki, how is he?"

"He's doing good as well, work's been pretty tough on him though. He's been forced to do overtime almost every week now. I just hope his boss gives him an easier time soon."

"That sucks. I hope his boss lets up soon too."

"Oh, I almost forgot. There's been something I've wanted to ask you for a while."

"Wh-what is it?"

"How come you just up and left? I honestly expected to get an explanation at least."

She pauses. Her mouth slightly open as if she was going to say something but stopped.

"Look, Y/n. I didn't want to be the one to tell you this. Can I just ask you to keep this between us?"

"Of course."

"Niki... he was texting me."

You give her a confused look.

She picks at the edge of her thumb and says, "At first he was just being friendly, but I'm not so sure about after that."

"What are you trying to say?" You ask.

"He used ask me how my day was and wanted to meet and catch up. Then, he moved onto asking me if I wanted him back. It was almost everyday and I felt disgusted knowing that he was texting me about how much he wanted to be with me again. So, I left. I thought that if I disappeared from your life, he would stop texting me and you wouldn't ever have to deal with this."

You felt your heart drop. Niki was texting Bff/n and asking her to get back together with him?

"Bff/n." You say.

"yes..?" She responds.

"When did this start?"

"Just before we graduated."

It was like your heart and lungs were constricted. You couldn't breathe properly and held onto the edge of the table to stabilize yourself.

"Y/n... I'm sorry." She says.

You mustered up enough strength to say, "You should've told me instead of leaving."

After barely getting those words out, you get up and leave. You didn't know where you were going to end up, but you needed to get away from everything.

---

You walked for what seemed like hours. The sun set and the moon rose as you wandered aimlessly. During your walk, you felt and heard your phone buzz multiple times. It must've been Niki texting and calling you. Not that it mattered because you didn't want to talk to him. Looking up, you find that you're in a park. You search for an empty bench to sit on. Once you hit the seat, you slowly let out everything.

The tears started off slow and then gradually came out faster and faster. Each time you wiped your face, there would already be another one leaving your eye. You pulled your legs into your chest and wrapped your arms around them. Looking off into the distance, you see a lake. You wonder if this is the same park that Niki asked you out in. There were also a couple silhouettes of people walking along the side of the lake.

You take your eyes off the lake and put your head down onto your knees. You thought about what you would say to Niki but couldn't think of anything. It was just too much for you right now. There were hurried footsteps that filled your ears. You brushed it off, thinking that it was just someone going for a late night jog.

A familiar voice yells out, "Y/n!"

You didn't need to look up to know who was calling out for you. His voice is like fire, making you burn up and want to run and look for something to get it off.

Throughout Niki's heavy breathing he says, "Y/n, Look at me."

You raise your head a bit, looking at him through a sliver in your arms.

"Where have you been? I've been trying to get in contact with you for ages and I was worried that something bad happened to you." He says.

"Something bad did happen to me." You say.

"What? Look, let's go home and we can talk about it there."

"I know what you did."

"what..?"

"Niki I'm not doing this with you anymore. This little game that you've been playing, it's over because I know what you did. Did you have fun messing around and toying with me?"

"Y/n, I seriously have no idea what you're talking about."

"Bff/n."

His expression changes. He knows what you're talking about now.

"I just want to ask, did you ever love me? Because I sure as hell never heard you say it." You question.

Niki's mouth opens and nothing comes out. When it closes, you've got your answer.

You raise your head fully and say, "I really can't believe you. I was ready to get married to you and you do this behind my back?"

Niki's hand balls up into a fist and he says, "Y/n I- I really am sorry. I do love you and I don't know what's wrong with me. I just kept thinking about Bff/n and I made stupid decisions."

By the time he finished talking you've had enough of his lies. You got up from the bench and turned away from Niki. It was time for you to walk away from this, from him.

You turn your head to look at Niki one more time to say, "Goodbye, Niki."

[mybl--dyvalentine]

so good

heartsync —

pairing : loser!jaehyun x gn!reader

summary : boring days lead you to download the stupidly popular ai matchmaking app, 'heartsync,' thinking that you would be matched with a bot. next thing you know, you have to maintain a dating score with this loser guy in order to avoid a hefty cancellation fee

warnings : fluff, slight angst, lowkey embarssing jaehyun, kinda fake dating,

a/n : i am addicted to losers. also writers block lwk hitting me so sorry if this isn't that good :(

— wc : 9.2k — not proof read —

notification !

tired of swiping and second-guessing? 🙄 let HeartSync™ match you based on more than just profiles. whether it’s fate or algorithms, HeartSync™ brings people together in unexpected ways. coffee shops ☕, grocery stores 🛒, or even your favorite songs 🎶. with personalized challenges 🎯 and quirky tasks 😏, it’s the app that makes you question what’s real… and what’s meant to be 💫.

ready to dive into a relationship that’s anything but ordinary? 😏 download now and let your heart sync ❤️‍🔥

you should’ve known something was up the second kazuha slid her phone across the table with a sly grin.

"you need this," she says, all too pleased with herself.

sungho leans in beside her, chin resting on his hand. "oh, absolutely. it’s the next big thing."

you glance down at the screen, unimpressed. "heartsync™? that sounds like a scam."

"it’s not," kazuha insists. "it's a revolution."

you narrow your eyes at her. "revolution is a strong word for a dating app."

sungho gestures wildly. "no, listen! this isn’t some basic swiping app. heartsync is, like, the future. ai-driven, hyper-accurate matchmaking." he wiggles his fingers in an attempt to look mysterious. "it scans all your online activity, text patterns, subconscious preferences—"

"wait, subconscious preferences?" you interrupt. "how the hell does it know what i subconsciously want?"

"science," kazuha says, as if that explains anything.

you stare at them, unimpressed. "so you’re telling me this thing invades my privacy, judges me, and then picks out some rando for me to date?"

"yep," sungho grins.

"hard pass."

kazhua sighs dramatically. "you’re so boring. come on, think about it. what if it actually works?"

"it won’t."

"but what if it does?"

you cross your arms. "i give it a week before i get matched with some weird middle-aged man who lives in his mom’s basement."

sungho gasps. "have a little faith, will you?!"

you snort, but kazuha suddenly looks too smug for your liking. before you can question it, your phone buzzes. you glance down.

"your friends are looking out for you! 💖 kazuha has sent you an invite to join heartsync™! experience true compatibility today. 💘"

you slowly raise your head. "zuha, did you just—"

"yep," she says.

"you—"

"it’s already downloading," sungho chimes in.

you look down at your phone in horror. sure enough, the app is installing.

"oh my god.”

jaehyun doesn’t even look up from his drink when taesan slides into the seat across from him, grinning like he’s about to be a menace.

"bro," taesan says, setting his phone down dramatically. "i found the solution to your dry-ass dating life."

jaehyun finally glances up. "i have a dating life."

woonhak, sitting beside him, lets out an exaggerated cough.

jaehyun glares. "shut up."

"he's not wrong," taesan snickers. "c’mon, look at this." he turns his phone around, revealing a sleek interface. jaehyun squints.

"heartsync?"

"ai-powered matchmaking, man. scientifically proven to find your perfect match."

jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "you sound like a bad infomercial."

woonhak leans in. "we already signed up. it’s, like, next-level tech. the app literally studies your habits, patterns, even your subconscious preferences."

jaehyun blinks. "that sounds illegal."

"nah, nah, just invasive," taesan says. "but in a good way."

jaehyun scoffs. "no such thing."

"just try it," woonhak says. "worst case, you get matched with someone weird and you ghost them."

"oh, so now i’m ghosting people?"

"what, like you don’t?" taesan smirks.

jaehyun rolls his eyes, but his phone suddenly buzzes.

"your best bros have your back! 💙 taesan has invited you to join heartsync™! what are you waiting for? your perfect match is waiting! 😉"

he looks up slowly. "you did not just—"

"i did," taesan grins.

woonhak claps him on the back. "welcome to the future, buddy."

jaehyun sighs. "you guys are the worst."

"and yet, here you are, downloading it," taesan singsongs.

jaehyun looks down at his phone. the app is downloading.

"...i hate you both."

setting up the app is way too easy. after a quick sign-up, a series of personality quizzes appear. you answer them halfheartedly, picking whatever feels right in the moment.

you expect a generic dating profile, but instead, a contract pops up.

"welcome to heartsync™'s exclusive perfect pair program! 💖 congratulations! by signing up, you agree to a 30-day trial relationship with your most compatible match. failure to complete the program will result in a penalty fee. please review the terms carefully. 📝"

you frown. "wait. penalty fee?"

kazhua leans over. "probably just a deterrent. no way they actually charge people."

"i don’t like this."

"it’s fine, just hit accept."

you squint at her, but against your better judgment, you press the button.

jaehyun does the same thing across town, equally suspicious.

then, both your phones buzz simultaneously.

"congratulations! 🎉 you’ve been matched! meet your perfect pair: myung jaehyun."

"congratulations! 🎉 you’ve been matched! meet your perfect pair: y/n."

jaehyun squints at his screen. "who the hell is y/n?"

you stare at yours. "who the hell is myung jaehyun?"

then, another notification.

"your first date has been scheduled! 🥰 see you at [reastaurant] tomorrow at 7 PM! remember: love is about commitment! 💞 failure to attend will result in a violation of your contract. 😘"

your stomach drops.

"...i think i just got scammed."

jaehyun, staring at the exact same message, mutters, "what the fuck?"

sungho and kazuha are dying.

"you’re stuck in a relationship for 30 days?!" sungho wheezes. "oh my god, i’m crying."

"this is the best thing that’s ever happened," kazuha says, wiping a fake tear.

you glare. "it’s not funny!"

"it’s hilarious," sungho corrects.

you groan. "this is the worst decision of my life."

kazhua gasps. "are you saying you regret trusting me?"

"yes."

"rude."

meanwhile, jaehyun is getting absolutely clowned on by his friends.

"so let me get this straight," taesan says, grinning like an idiot. "you’re contractually obligated to date this person?"

jaehyun rubs his temples. "apparently."

woonhak snickers. "bro. you’re trapped."

"i hate you both."

"nah," taesan says. "you love us. just like you’re about to love your new partner."

jaehyun looks up with dead eyes. "i hope the app malfunctions and matches you with each other."

woonhak gasps. "how dare you!"

"that would be so tragic," taesan grins. "imagine getting stuck in a relationship with woonhak."

woonhak shoves him. "shut up! i’d be a great boyfriend!"

jaehyun groans. "i cannot believe i let you guys talk me into this."

but before either of them can reply, his phone buzzes again.

"just a reminder! ❤️ your first date is TOMORROW at 7 PM! 💕 don’t keep your perfect match waiting! 😘 failure to attend will result in consequences. 🔥"

jaehyun stares at it.

"...i think i just signed my soul away."

you, staring at the exact same notification, sigh deeply.

what have you gotten yourself into?

...what?

you quickly scroll down. there’s a long wall of text in tiny font. definitely the terms and conditions you skimmed through without reading.

"effective immediately, you are required to actively participate in this relationship for the full 30-day duration. early termination will result in a penalty fee of—"

you freeze.

oh, hell no.

the penalty fee is HOW MUCH?!

"guys," you say, voice flat. "i think i just got scammed."

kazuh and sungho exchange glances. kazuha grabs your phone again and scrolls. her eyebrows shoot up. "holy shit. you’re stuck?"

"define stuck," you say, already dreading the answer.

sungho reads further. "...yep. stuck. you gotta go on dates, talk to this guy, and if you try to ignore him, the app gets passive-aggressive about it."

as if on cue, a new notification pops up.

"ghosting is unhealthy! say hi to your partner within the next 12 hours to maintain a positive relationship score. 💕"

you stare at the screen in horror.

kazuha and sungho? already laughing their asses off.

"this is the best thing that’s ever happened," sungho wheezes.

"no, no, this is cursed," you say, shaking your head. "there has to be a way out of this."

sungho grins. "you could pay the fee."

"i’m not paying that much just to escape some ai-manufactured relationship," you grumble.

kazuh, still laughing, pats your shoulder. "guess you’re dating myung jaehyun now."

somewhere else, jaehyun is also freaking out.

"taesan, what the hell did you make me sign up for?"

jaehyun stares at his phone like it just personally betrayed him.

"you got matched?" taesan asks, amused. he leans over jaehyun’s shoulder to check. "ohhh. wait. you actually got someone decent-looking. nice."

"not nice!" jaehyun exclaims, shoving his phone in taesan’s face. "look at this! it’s a contract. i have to date this person for 30 days or i have to pay an insane fee."

taesan reads for a second, then bursts out laughing. "holy shit. you’re trapped."

"why didn’t you tell me this could happen?!"

"because i didn’t think you’d actually get a match."

"what do i do?" jaehyun groans, scratching the back of his head.

"just go with it," taesan says. "it’s only a month. fake-date them, get some free meals, and worst-case scenario, you make a new friend."

jaehyun grumbles. "what if they suck?"

"what if you suck?"

"i mean, yeah, probably," jaehyun admits. "but still."

his phone buzzes.

"say hi to your partner within 12 hours to maintain a positive relationship score! 💕"

jaehyun stares blankly at the notification. then he looks at taesan.

"okay, but, like… do i get a refund if i cry?"

taesan cackles. "nope. no refunds, buddy. enjoy your new relationship."

jaehyun groans and flops onto the couch, phone balanced on his chest, already regretting everything.

you’re still convinced you’ve been scammed.

it’s not just the fact that you’re contractually obligated to go on this date, it’s the restaurant.

"how the hell did it know?" you mutter, staring at the notification again.

sungho leans over your shoulder, reading it for the tenth time. "i mean… it’s a little creepy."

"it’s very creepy," you correct. "i’ve never put this place in my location history, never mentioned it online, never even texted about it."

kazuha hums, sipping her drink. "maybe you thought about it too hard and the app just knew."

you look at her like she’s insane. "you’re telling me heartsync can read my mind now?"

"i mean, why not? it already owns your soul."

"not helping."

sungho suddenly perks up, squinting at the name on your screen. "wait. myung jaehyun?"

"yeah?"

he snaps his fingers. "oh! i had a class with him last year."

you blink. "and you’re only mentioning this now?"

sungho shrugs. "i forgot. but, uh…" he pauses. "he’s kinda a loser. in a cute way."

you stare at him. "define cute loser."

"like, y’know. a little awkward. kinda clumsy. but he’s not a bad guy."

kazuha raises an eyebrow. "so what i’m hearing is, you’ve already got an advantage."

"what advantage?" you ask flatly.

"you can be the cool one in this relationship," she says, smirking.

sungho grins. "oh yeah, you’ve already won."

you groan, sinking into your seat. "why am i even doing this?"

"because you’re legally bound by a contract," kazuha reminds you.

"right. love that for me."

jaehyun has the same problem.

"this is weird," he mutters, staring at his phone.

woonhak peeks over his shoulder. "dude, how did it know your favorite restaurant?"

"i don’t know."

"have you ever posted about it?" taesan asks.

"nope."

"checked in there?"

"never."

woonhak whistles. "yeah, that’s terrifying."

jaehyun groans. "why am i even going?"

taesan pats his shoulder. "because you’re legally bound by a contract."

jaehyun glares. "i hate you."

you arrive at the restaurant five minutes early, because despite your skepticism, you do respect punctuality.

what you don’t expect is to see someone already waiting at the entrance.

he's tall, a little awkward in the way he shifts on his feet, checking his phone. glasses slipping down his nose.

you approach cautiously. "...myung jaehyun?"

he looks up, blinking.

oh.

he’s kinda cute. in a loser-y way.

"oh," he says. "uh. hey."

you stare at each other for a beat.

jaehyun scratches the back of his neck. "so, uh… this is weird, right?"

"extremely."

he lets out a short laugh. "cool, just making sure."

you glance at the restaurant. "wanna get this over with?"

"yep."

you head inside together.

the weirdness doesn’t stop there.

you both open the menu, and your phones buzz at the same time.

"feeling indecisive? 💡 you both love the same dish! try the spicy seafood pasta! 🍝💖"

you slowly look up at jaehyun.

he looks back, expression unreadable.

"...so, uh," you start.

"are we just gonna ignore that?" he asks.

"we could."

jaehyun nods. "cool. because that was terrifying."

you both order the pasta anyway.

somewhere between the appetizer and the main course, the awkwardness starts to fade.

you’re still skeptical, but… conversation with jaehyun is weirdly easy.

he’s funny in an unintentional way. a little clumsy with his words, but quick to laugh at himself. it’s not what you expected.

"so," he says between bites, "are you, like, willingly doing this, or were you also tricked by your so-called friends?"

you groan. "tricked. sungho and kazuha set me up."

"ah," jaehyun nods. "taesan and woonhak did the same to me."

"so we’re both victims."

"basically."

you clink your glasses in mutual suffering.

then, another notification.

"running out of things to talk about? try reminiscing about your childhood talent show disaster! 😆✨"

you both freeze.

jaehyun slowly looks up. "...did your phone just say—?"

"yep," you cut in.

"what the hell?"

"no idea."

you stare at each other.

then jaehyun cautiously asks, "...did you actually have a childhood talent show disaster?"

you hesitate. "...maybe."

his eyes widen. "no way."

"look, it wasn’t that bad—"

"tell me everything."

you sigh, defeated. "i was seven, okay? i was supposed to sing. i got up there, forgot all the words, panicked, and ended up just dancing instead."

jaehyun claps. "improv! i respect that."

"bad improv," you correct.

"still, you committed. that’s what matters.”

and just like that, the skepticism eases.

then the app sends another notification.

"bonding over past failures? we love to see it! 😍💕 by the way, your partner thinks the nickname 'woonbaby' is hilarious. go ahead, try it! 😏"

you blink.

jaehyun reads his own notification.

then he looks at you, face slowly turning red.

"...what the fuck?"

you can’t help it. you laugh. "what the hell is woonbaby?"

jaehyun groans, covering his face. "it’s—it’s stupid. my friend woonhak. someone called him that once and it just stuck."

"oh my god," you grin. "you definitely still call him that."

"i do not," jaehyun lies.

you raise an eyebrow. "so if you text him right now and ask, he won’t confirm?"

jaehyun opens his mouth, then closes it.

"...no comment."

you cackle.

"oh my god," jaehyun mutters, slumping in his seat. "i hate this app."

"i love this app," you say gleefully.

by the time the bill arrives, you have to admit something.

this was not a disaster.

you’re still weirded out by the app’s accuracy. it’s unsettling how well it seems to know you both.

but jaehyun?

...he’s not so bad.

"so," he says as you both step outside, hands in pockets. "same time next week?"

you blink. "what?"

he holds up his phone.

"congrats! 🎉 your next date is scheduled for next friday! love takes consistency! 💖 ditching is not an option. 😉"

you groan. "again?"

"yep."

"...fine."

jaehyun grins. "see you then, partner."

you shake your head, but you can’t help the small smile forming.

what the hell have you gotten yourself into?

—

you’re in the middle of something important when your phone buzzes.

"surprise! 🎉 we’ve scheduled a spontaneous date night for you and jaehyun! quality time is crucial for growing relationships! 💕 see you at 7PM! 😘"

you stare at the screen.

then you glance at the time.

6:20PM.

"are you kidding me?" you say aloud.

sungho and kazuha look up from where they’re sprawled across your couch, watching a drama. "what?" kazuha asks.

"this stupid app just scheduled a date."

"wait, i thought your next one wasn’t until friday," sungho says.

"it was," you emphasize. "now it’s tonight. at seven."

sungho winces. "oh, that’s rough."

kazuha squints. "can’t you just cancel?"

you shake your head and turn your screen to them.

"cancelling is NOT an option! 🫵😤 love takes EFFORT! 💖"

kazuha snorts. "damn. that app is really holding you hostage."

you sigh. "i hate this."

sungho shrugs. "on the bright side, at least jaehyun is fun to mess with."

you scowl, but you don’t argue.

jaehyun is having an equally miserable time.

"you have got to be kidding me," he groans.

taesan and woonhak glance up from where they’re messing around on the studio couch. "what?" woonhak asks.

jaehyun turns his phone to them.

taesan squints. "another date? bro, you just had one."

"i know," jaehyun says, exasperated. "i have work to do!"

"just reschedule," woonhak suggests.

jaehyun gives him a deadpan look and flips his phone back around.

"cancelling is NOT an option! 🫵😤 love takes EFFORT! 💖"

woonhak bursts out laughing. "nah, this is hilarious."

"i hate this app," jaehyun mutters.

"okay, but like," taesan leans forward, "where are you even supposed to take them? don’t you have to finish your demo?"

jaehyun groans, rubbing his face. "yeah. i do."

he stares at his screen for a second, then sighs. "i guess they’re just coming here."

woonhak and taesan exchange glances.

"bold," woonhak comments.

"risky," taesan adds.

jaehyun throws a notebook at them.

you’re about five seconds away from ghosting when your phone buzzes.

myung jaehyun: uh. slight change of plans myung jaehyun: i’m stuck in the studio bc i have work to finish myung jaehyun: so if you’re cool with it, you can just come here?

you stare at the message.

then you sigh.

you: send me the address

a moment later, it comes through.

you grab your things and head out, still half-annoyed, half-curious about what you’re walking into.

jaehyun’s studio is tucked away in a quieter part of the city, the kind of place you’d probably never stumble upon unless you were looking for it.

the building itself is older, but inside, it’s got that warm, slightly chaotic energy of a space that’s lived in.

post-it notes are stuck to random surfaces. half-full water bottles clutter the desks. a worn couch sits against the wall, surrounded by tangled cables and spare equipment.

jaehyun is hunched over the desk, headphones around his neck, messy hair even messier than usual. he spins in his chair when you walk in, eyes slightly wide.

"oh. hey."

"hey," you say, glancing around. "so this is where the magic happens?"

"uh," jaehyun scratches the back of his neck, "something like that."

you step further inside, taking in the mix of instruments, wires, and open project files on the screen.

"you work here alone?"

"nah," jaehyun gestures vaguely. "woonhak and taesan share this space with me, but they’re not here right now."

"cool."

an awkward pause.

jaehyun clears his throat. "so, uh… i do have to work, but you can hang out? there’s snacks in that cabinet, and the couch is—"

you flop onto the couch before he can finish his sentence.

jaehyun blinks. "—yeah. okay. make yourself at home."

you grin. "thanks, host."

jaehyun groans but turns back to his screen, muttering something about "stupid app forcing dates at the worst times."

you watch him for a moment as he scrolls through his project.

his sleeves are pushed up, revealing the faint ink stains on his fingers. his foot taps absently against the floor as he listens to the playback.

you close your eyes and let the soft hum of music fill the space.

time passes.

jaehyun works. you scroll through your phone, occasionally glancing up to watch him tweak something in his file.

it’s… oddly peaceful.

you get up and sit down at the desk next to him, he’s too immersed to acknowldge you.

despite the forced nature of this whole situation, there’s something nice about sitting in a space where someone is just doing what they love.

you start to relax.

and at some point, without even meaning to, you start to drift off.

jaehyun only notices when he turns around to say something and sees you slumped over the desk next to him, head resting on your arms.

he freezes.

stares.

panics.

oh shit oh shit oh shit.

you’re asleep.

here. in his studio.

jaehyun is hyperaware of everything. the quiet rise and fall of your breathing. the way your fingers are curled slightly, like you were mid-scroll before you passed out.

he has no idea what to do.

should he wake you up? would that be rude? but if he doesn’t, is that weirder?

he’s still spiraling when the door swings open.

"forgot my charger," taesan says, stepping inside. "also, i’m stealing your—"

he stops.

jaehyun can feel the moment taesan processes the scene in front of him.

then—

"holy shit."

jaehyun whips around. "shut up."

taesan grins. "no way. you’re actually—"

"shut. up."

taesan snickers. "oh, this is amazing."

jaehyun glares. "don’t. start."

but it’s too late. taesan is already pulling out his phone.

"bro," he whispers, cackling, "you’re literally watching them like they’re a rare bird species."

"i am not," jaehyun hisses.

"you so are. oh my god."

jaehyun is about to throw something when you shift slightly, letting out a soft sigh.

both of them freeze.

taesan vibrates with silent laughter.

jaehyun, who is now very much contemplating murder, snaps, "get your stupid charger and leave."

taesan holds his hands up in surrender, still grinning. "alright, alright. relax, lover boy."

jaehyun throws a notebook at him.

taesan leaves.

jaehyun exhales, running a hand through his hair.

he turns back to you.

you’re still asleep, breathing steady, face relaxed.

he sighs.

and despite himself, despite the utter embarrassment of this entire situation…

he can’t help the small, stupid smile that tugs at his lips.

this app is so dumb.

but maybe…

just maybe…

it’s onto something.

you wake up slowly, the kind of hazy drift between sleep and awareness where you don’t quite remember where you are.

there’s the soft hum of music. the faint scratch of a pen. the scent of something vaguely citrusy, mixed with the underlying warmth of a well-used space.

then—

"finally awake?"

you blink blearily. jaehyun is sitting at the desk, spinning a pen between his fingers, watching you with an amused expression.

reality clicks into place.

the studio. the forced date. you, falling asleep like an idiot.

you groan, rubbing your face. "how long was i out?"

jaehyun shrugs. "an hour? maybe more?"

you wince. "why didn’t you wake me up?"

"you looked comfortable," he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

you stare at him.

jaehyun stares back.

heat creeps up the back of your neck. you push it down and scowl instead. "so you just let me drool all over your desk?"

"you didn’t drool," jaehyun says. then, after a pause, "probably."

you groan again and stretch, the stiffness in your neck making you regret everything. "well, thanks for that. i guess."

jaehyun chuckles, spinning back to his screen. "anytime."

you roll your eyes but don’t fight the small smile threatening to form.

you end up staying.

it’s not like you planned to, but the vibe is easy, and jaehyun is… well.

he’s kind of nice to be around.

he works while you scroll through your phone, occasionally showing him something stupid that makes him snort. at one point, he grabs a bag of chips from a shelf and wordlessly hands it to you.

"what’s this for?" you ask.

"you skipped dinner."

you blink. "how do you know?"

jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "because i also skipped dinner, and i didn’t see you eat anything either."

…fair point.

you take the bag and mumble a thanks. jaehyun just shrugs like it’s no big deal.

somewhere between talking about absolutely nothing, watching him edit his project, and accidentally getting crumbs all over the desk, you start to forget that this whole thing was a forced date.

it doesn’t feel like one anymore.

and you don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

it’s nearly midnight when you check your phone and realize how late it’s gotten.

"shit," you mutter.

jaehyun glances up. "huh?"

"i should probably go."

he blinks, like he just processed the time himself. "oh. right."

you stand, stretching again, then glance at him. "you gonna keep working?"

"for a bit," jaehyun says, rubbing his neck. "i’m almost done."

you nod, then hesitate.

you’re not sure why you hesitate.

but before you can overthink it, you blurt out, "this wasn’t that bad."

jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "wow. high praise."

"shut up," you say, rolling your eyes.

he grins. "but yeah. wasn’t that bad."

you huff, grabbing your things. "see you friday, loser."

"see you, drooler."

you flip him off as you walk out the door.

jaehyun just laughs.

as you head home, your phone buzzes.

"congrats! 🎉 you’ve just completed an unplanned date! we bet you had a GREAT time 😘💖 can’t wait for friday! 😍"

you stare at the notification.

then you scoff, shaking your head.

stupid app.

—

you just want your morning coffee.

that’s it. just a simple, peaceful start to your day before dealing with actual responsibilities.

but when you step into the coffee shop, your usual one, the one you’ve been going to for years, you freeze.

because sitting right there, hunched over his phone with slight dark circles under his eyes and a half-finished iced americano in front of him, is myung jaehyun.

he doesn’t notice you at first. he just stares blankly at his screen, blinking slow like a loading error. he’s so out of it that when the barista calls out his order, he doesn’t even react.

so, naturally, you decide to make his life harder.

"myung jaehyun," you say, loud enough for half the café to hear.

he flinches like you just smacked him.

"huh?!"

"your coffee," you deadpan, nodding towards the counter.

he follows your gaze, then blinks again. "oh. right."

you snort as he stumbles up to grab it, still looking half-asleep.

when he returns to his seat, you’re still standing there, arms crossed.

"what?" he mumbles.

"this is my coffee shop."

jaehyun squints at you. "…what?"

"i come here every morning," you say, pointing at the barista like they can somehow confirm this.

jaehyun shrugs. "cool. i came here because my app said it had ‘the best morning recharge.’"

you frown. "your app?"

"heartsync," he says, yawning. "you know. the app that ruined our lives?"

your stomach drops. "you’re kidding."

jaehyun pulls out his phone and flashes the notification at you. sure enough.

"rise and shine! 🌞 grab your perfect morning pick-me-up at caffeine fix! ☕✨"

your jaw clenches. you also got a similar notification this morning.

slowly, your eyes meet. "okay," you say. "this is weird."

jaehyun hums, sipping his coffee. "yeah. but whatever. i needed caffeine."

you stare at him, offended. "so you’re just accepting this?"

"i mean, if the app is forcing me to get good coffee, i won’t complain," he says, completely unserious.

you hate that he’s taking this so lightly. you hate that he doesn’t even seem surprised.

you snatch his coffee and take a sip.

"hey!" jaehyun protests.

you smack it back down on the table. "that’s for being weirdly okay with this."

he just glares at you, rubbing his temples. "i just woke up. can you at least let me suffer in peace?"

you sigh, pulling out a chair. "fine. but i’m sitting here now. just to make sure you don’t pass out or something."

jaehyun looks at you, surprised. then he grins. "aww. you care."

you grab a sugar packet and chuck it at his forehead.

after that, you make a decision.

you’re not going to see jaehyun for a while.

not because you mind him. he’s fine. whatever. but because there’s something unnerving about the way this stupid app is leading you to each other like rats in some kind of romantic lab experiment.

so the next morning, you take a different route to work.

and by "different," you mean you add twenty minutes to your commute just to be safe.

you’re feeling pretty good about yourself until you stop by a grocery store later that evening—

and jaehyun is right there, staring at a shelf of instant ramen like it personally betrayed him.

you freeze. he looks up.

silence.

"are you kidding me?" you groan, dragging a hand down your face.

jaehyun just stares at you. "you’re the one who just walked in."

"yeah, but i specifically avoided my usual route just to make sure this wouldn’t happen," you argue.

"okay, well, i was just trying to get food," he says, exasperated. "i ran out of ramen."

you narrow your eyes. "don’t tell me your app told you to come here."

he hesitates.

then he holds up his phone.

"craving a late-night snack? 🤤🍜 don’t worry, we got you! swing by mart express—you never know who you might run into! 😉"

you want to throw something.

instead, you march up to him, grab his phone, and put it on airplane mode.

jaehyun blinks. "…what are you doing."

"fixing our problem," you say, pulling out your own phone and doing the same.

jaehyun stares at you for a moment. then, to your surprise, he actually nods. "okay," he says. "good plan."

you blink. "wait. you’re not gonna fight me on this?"

he shrugs. "nah. the app is getting creepy."

you fold your arms. "so you do think it’s weird?"

"i always thought it was weird," jaehyun says. "i just don’t care as much as you do."

you glare at him, but he’s already turning back to the ramen shelf like this whole conversation didn’t just happen.

unbelievable.

you leave the store together, mostly because your places are in the same general direction.

except five minutes in, jaehyun suddenly stops walking.

"shit," he mutters.

"what?" you ask.

he sighs. "i don’t know how to get home."

you stare at him. "you what."

"i always use my phone for directions!" he says, waving his arms. "but i turned it off, and now i’m lost."

you pinch the bridge of your nose. "you’re unbelievable."

"hey, you told me to turn it off!"

"because we were being manipulated!"

"well, congrats, now i’m gonna die on the street because of you."

"oh my god," you groan. "just—fine. where do you live?"

jaehyun tells you the address. you stare at him.

"jaehyun," you say. "that’s literally ten minutes from my place."

jaehyun blinks. "…oh."

you squint at him. "have you been taking the long way home this entire time?"

he scratches his head. "maybe?"

you don’t know whether to laugh or hit him.

instead, you just sigh and grab his wrist.

"come on," you say, dragging him in the right direction. "i’ll walk you."

jaehyun doesn’t protest.

but when you glance at him, he’s smiling.

you get him home without issue.

when you stop in front of his building, jaehyun turns to you.

"thanks," he says, rubbing his neck. "and, uh. good job fighting the system, i guess."

you snort. "yeah. whatever."

he grins, but there’s something softer in it this time.

"see you around?" he asks.

you hesitate.

then you sigh. "probably."

jaehyun laughs. "probably."

you don’t check your phone again until you’re home.

when you do, you have one new notification.

"aw, how sweet! 🥰 you make such a great team! 💕"

you groan, rolling your eyes. the off the grid mode didn’t work.

“so,” sungho says, dragging out the word like he’s about to be annoying.

you look up from your phone, raising an eyebrow. “so?”

sungho smirks. “how’s myung jaehyun?”

you blink. “why are you asking like that?”

“oh, no reason,” he says, very unconvincingly. “you just seem to see him a lot.”

you scoff. “that’s because this stupid app won’t leave us alone.”

“mhm.”

“it literally forced us to meet up.”

“sure.”

you glare at him. “i don’t like him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

sungho just hums. “never said you did.”

you hate him.

“anyway,” you say, aggressively changing the subject. “when are you free? let’s get dinner or something.”

sungho shrugs. “ask jaehyun. you seem to hang out with him more than me these days.”

you chuck a pillow at his face.

on jaehyun’s end, taesan is just as bad.

“so, you and your soulmate have been seeing each other a lot.”

jaehyun groans. “don’t call them that.”

“why not? isn’t that what the app says?” taesan teases.

jaehyun sighs, tilting his head back against the couch. “we don’t even take it seriously.”

“and yet you still see them outside of what the app says.”

“it just happens,” jaehyun defends.

“right.”

jaehyun doesn’t even bother arguing. it’s taesan. nothing he says will change his mind once he starts being annoying.

instead, he just mutters, “i don’t even like them like that.”

taesan snorts. “yeah. okay.”

jaehyun scowls at him. “i don’t.”

taesan grins. “never said you did.”

jaehyun glares at him.

taesan only laughs.

but the truth is—

neither of you mind seeing each other.

the notification hits your phone at the worst possible time, mid-bite into a sandwich, your mouth too full to properly react as you stare at the bolded text on the screen.

💖 heartsync™ challenge: surprise your match with a meaningful gift! don’t forget! thoughtfulness is key! 🎁

you narrow your eyes. a meaningful gift?

sungho, sitting across from you, glances at your phone and snorts. “oh, this is good. what are you gonna get him?”

you finish chewing before deadpanning, “a rock.”

sungho almost chokes on his drink.

jaehyun gets the same notification while lying on his bed, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. he barely processes it at first, but then—

a meaningful gift.

he groans, rubbing his face. "why is this starting to feel like a real relationship?"

“because it is a real relationship,” taesan says from his desk, not looking up from his laptop.

“it’s not,” jaehyun argues immediately.

“sure,” taesan replies, unconvinced.

jaehyun sighs. “what even counts as meaningful?”

taesan finally looks at him, unimpressed. “you’re the one dating them.”

“fake dating,” jaehyun corrects.

“sure,” taesan repeats.

jaehyun groans again.

you decide to put some effort into it.

not because you care or anything, but because you know jaehyun will definitely try, and you don’t want to look like an asshole in comparison.

you wander through a store, scanning the shelves for something that could count as thoughtful.

jaehyun gives off dog energy, doesn’t he?

you frown. that’s weird to think about. but it’s true. he’s clumsy, a little dumb, but weirdly endearing.

then, you spot it.

a plush keychain. a little golden retriever with floppy ears and big, round eyes.

you hesitate before picking it up.

it’s stupid. but it’s also… kind of perfect.

you buy it before you can second-guess yourself.

jaehyun, meanwhile, is just as lost.

he walks through a store with woonhak, who has been absolutely no help.

“why don’t you just get them a candle?” woonhak suggests.

jaehyun sighs. “that’s not meaningful.”

“depends on the scent.”

“woonhak.”

“fine.” woonhak gestures vaguely. “what do they even like?”

jaehyun pauses.

he… actually knows quite a bit. their favorite color, the snacks they always buy, the way they take their coffee—

he stops. when did he start noticing so much?

woonhak stares at him. “dude, you’re so gone.”

jaehyun immediately shakes his head. “shut up.”

but he grabs something off the shelf anyway, a small coffee cup for the coffee addict that is you.

just because it makes sense. not because he cares.

you agree to meet at the studio.

it’s not that weird, jaehyun spends most of his time there anyway, and you’ve been there before.

when you walk in, however, you’re met with the sight of woonhak sitting at the desk, staring intensely at his laptop screen.

you blink. “you’re here?”

woonhak looks up. “you’re here?”

“uh. yeah?”

jaehyun walks in behind you, closing the door. “we’re doing that stupid challenge.”

woonhak frowns. “what challenge?”

you smirk. “the one that made him tell me about woonbaby.”

there’s a beat of silence.

“YOU TOLD THEM?!” woonhak exclaims, turning to jaehyun with betrayal in his eyes.

jaehyun looks genuinely alarmed. “IT WASN’T MY FAULT! THE APP TOLD THEM.”

woonhak glares. “i don’t care! you let it happen.”

you watch, amused, as they bicker.

eventually, jaehyun gives up with an exasperated sigh. “whatever, let’s just do this.”

you sit down, pulling out the little plush keychain.

jaehyun stares at it.

“what?” you say.

he blinks. “…is that a dog?”

you nod. “it reminded me of you.”

woonhak howls with laughter.

jaehyun scowls. “what does that mean?”

you shrug. “you figure it out.”

woonhak is practically crying. “bro, you’re literally a golden retriever.”

jaehyun grumbles, but you catch the way he turns the keychain over in his hands, quietly pressing at the plush fabric.

then, he clears his throat, pulling out his own gift.

a simple and cute coffee cup, one you can reuse for your favorite coffee shop.

you pause.

you recognize this brand. it’s the one you always buy from.

“…how did you know i like these?” you ask.

jaehyun hesitates. “you mentioned it once.”

you stare at him. that was days ago.

woonhak, clearly sensing something, slowly scoots away.

“uh,” he mutters, “i’ll leave you guys to it.”

he exits the room.

leaving you alone with jaehyun.

you turn back to him, suddenly unsure what to say.

he shifts in his seat. “so. we did the challenge.”

you nod. “yeah.”

there’s a silence.

“…i actually really like this,” jaehyun admits, still holding the plush keychain.

you blink. the silence is loud.

he glances at you, a little sheepish. “i know you probably just picked it because it’s funny, but… i like it.”

you feel something unfamiliar stir in your chest.

“…i like mine too,” you say.

he looks up, a little surprised.

you clear your throat. “it’s thoughtful.”

a small smile tugs at his lips.

“good,” he says.

later that night, you add the keychain to your bag.

and jaehyun clips his onto his.

not that it means anything.

—

💖 heartsync challenge: write a letter to your partner about what this experience meant to you. be honest! no holding back! 💌

you stare at your phone.

your stomach turns.

this is different from the other challenges. those were fun, stupid, even. buying a gift? easy. going on a last-minute date? frustrating but manageable.

but this?

you put your phone down and ignore it.

jaehyun, on the other hand, groans dramatically and flops onto his bed.

taesan and woonhak glance at each other.

“what now?” taesan asks.

jaehyun lifts his phone, showing them the notification.

woonhak snorts. “damn. that’s deep.”

“yeah,” jaehyun mutters. “stupid app.”

taesan raises a brow. “you’re actually gonna do it?”

jaehyun pauses. “...it’s just a challenge.”

woonhak smirks. “uh-huh.”

jaehyun rolls onto his stomach, hiding his face.

taesan leans back in his chair. “so… what has this experience meant to you?”

jaehyun groans into his pillow.

woonhak cackles. “this is hilarious.”

jaehyun throws a pillow at him.

you don’t write the letter.

you could.

but you don’t.

because writing it down makes it real. and you don’t want to think about what this actually means.

so, you pretend it doesn’t exist.

the app can’t force you, right?

right.

jaehyun stares at the blank page in front of him.

just write something dumb and get it over with.

but when he tries to start, nothing feels right.

so, he sighs, taps his pen against the desk, and just… writes what comes naturally.

woonhak picks up the folded letter before jaehyun can stop him.

jaehyun nearly tackles him.

“GIVE IT BACK.”

woonhak dances out of reach, grinning. “ooooh, what’s this?”

“IT’S NOTHING.”

taesan, completely unbothered, takes a sip of his drink. “so you did write one.”

jaehyun glares. “it’s just a stupid challenge.”

woonhak dodges another grab. “damn, you really poured your heart into this, huh?”

jaehyun huffs. “i hate both of you.”

woonhak finally tosses it back, laughing.

jaehyun stuffs it into his bag, scowling.

“…so when are you giving it to them?” taesan asks.

jaehyun freezes.

“uh.”

“…you are giving it to them, right?” woonhak says, amused.

jaehyun looks away. “i don’t know.”

“…bro.”

“i just—” jaehyun sighs. “what if they don’t care?”

woonhak and taesan exchange a look.

then, woonhak shrugs. “i guess you’ll find out.”

you don’t ask if jaehyun wrote his letter.

you don’t want to know.

because if he did, then you’d have to think about why you didn’t.

when jaehyun sees you next, he almost gives it to you.

almost.

but then he sees the way you act like nothing is different.

so, he keeps it in his bag.

not that it matters.

—

💖 heartsync update: your 30-day trial is almost over! it’s time for your final compatibility assessment!

will you renew? yes or no? make your choice carefully! 😘

your thumb hovers over the screen.

your chest feels tight.

final compatibility assessment.

it’s just a stupid button. just a choice.

but it feels heavier than that.

yes or no. stay or leave.

do you want this to continue?

and that’s the problem, isn’t it?

because you do. but you also don’t.

or rather, you can’t.

if you say yes, what does that mean? that the app was right? that this was real? that you’re willing to risk whatever this has become?

that’s too much.

that’s terrifying.

so, instead of thinking, instead of wondering, instead of feeling—

you press no.

and just like that, it’s over.

jaehyun gets the notification when he’s halfway to the café.

he’d planned to meet you there, casually slipping you the letter like it wasn’t a big deal. but then—

💔 heartsync update: your trial has ended. thanks for participating! your match has chosen not to renew. we’ve removed them from your contacts. no hard feelings! 💕

he stops walking.

stares at the screen.

his stomach sinks.

his heart—

no renewal.

he scrolls through his messages, but your contact is gone. every conversation, every stupid joke, every awkward late-night text—erased.

like you were never there at all.

like he imagined it.

like it meant nothing.

he swallows.

turns on his heel.

walks away.

when you check your phone again, it’s like jaehyun never existed.

your chat history? gone.

your notifications? empty.

you type his name into your contacts. nothing.

it feels like a punch to the stomach. you should’ve expected this. you did expect this.

but it still hurts.

did he pick no, too?

…or did you delete something that he actually wanted?

you close your phone.

this is for the best.

you keep telling yourself that. so why doesn’t it feel true?

jaehyun stares at the letter in his hands.

it’s stupid.

he shouldn’t care.

but he does. and that pisses him off.

woonhak notices. “what’s up with you?”

jaehyun doesn’t answer.

taesan glances over. “hey. you good?”

jaehyun laughs, but it’s hollow. “yeah.”

woonhak raises a brow.

jaehyun crumples the letter in his fist.

“i just wasted my time, that’s all.”

he gets up.

leaves before they can ask anything else.

you tell sungho and kazuha that it’s fine.

that you’re fine.

sungho doesn’t buy it. “so, you just… ended it?”

you shrug. “it was gonna end anyway.”

kazuha frowns. “but… did you want it to?”

you open your mouth. hesitate.

sungho sighs. “you’re an idiot.”

you glare. “thanks.”

“i’m serious. if you actually liked him—”

“i don’t.”

“…right,” kazuha says, unconvinced.

sungho crosses his arms. “you know, he could’ve said yes.”

you look away.

because that thought is the worst one of all.

jaehyun avoids the café.

he avoids the places he might see you.

he pretends it doesn’t sting.

but when he’s alone, when the studio is quiet, when there’s nothing left to distract him.

he pulls out the letter.

the one you’ll never read.

and he wonders if he had given it to you, would it have made a difference?

—

jaehyun is not the kind of guy who does this.

he’s not the type to chase after people. he doesn’t do big confrontations. he doesn’t throw himself into situations where his feelings are laid bare, where rejection is a very real possibility.

but here he is.

sitting in a café across from woonhak, gripping a coffee cup like it’s a lifeline, his foot tapping against the floor so fast it’s a miracle the ground isn’t shaking.

woonhak, for his part, is staring at him like he’s experiencing secondhand embarrassment in real time.

“so… let me get this straight,” woonhak says, setting his drink down. “you got matched with someone on a dating app. spent a whole month with them. actually liked them. and now, instead of talking to them like a normal person, you’re here, asking me to help you find them?”

jaehyun scowls. “when you say it like that, it sounds weird.”

woonhak leans back in his chair. “because it is weird.”

jaehyun groans, running a hand through his hair. “i just—” he hesitates, voice quieter. “they pressed no.”

woonhak’s eyebrows lift.

jaehyun clenches his jaw. “they chose to end it.”

woonhak watches him for a moment. then, slowly, he folds his arms.

“so? that’s it? you’re just gonna let the app decide how this ends?”

jaehyun exhales sharply. “no.”

“good.” woonhak cracks his knuckles. “let’s find them.”

jaehyun blinks. “wait, you’re actually helping?”

woonhak smirks. “are you kidding? this is the most interesting thing that’s happened all week.”

jaehyun rolls his eyes, but his heart is beating a little faster now.

step one: figure out where you work.

woonhak, surprisingly, is really good at this. almost too good.

“didn’t you mention that sungho is their friend?” he asks, scrolling through his phone.

jaehyun blinks. “uh. yeah?”

woonhak hums. “i think i saw something on his page last week. something about dropping off lunch at their job.”

jaehyun leans over. “you can find that?”

“duh. i have skills.”

jaehyun doesn’t question it.

a few minutes later, woonhak tilts his screen toward jaehyun. “bingo. looks like they work at that bookstore near the subway station.”

jaehyun’s stomach twists.

this is actually happening.

woonhak smirks. “you ready?”

jaehyun doesn’t answer. just grabs his jacket and walks out the door.

the bookstore is quiet when jaehyun steps inside.

the warm scent of paper and ink fills the air. soft lighting casts golden hues against the wooden bookshelves. the faint sound of pages turning and the occasional murmur of conversation drifts through the space.

he scans the store, heart hammering.

there.

you’re stacking books near the back, moving with the easy rhythm of someone who’s done this a hundred times.

jaehyun’s feet move before he can think.

you don’t notice him at first.

but then you glance up.

your hands still. your eyes widen.

“…jaehyun?”

his throat is dry. he almost forgets why he’s here.

almost.

“you really didn’t care, huh?”

your expression falters. “what?”

jaehyun exhales sharply. “you didn’t even hesitate. you just—” he gestures vaguely, frustration bleeding into his voice. “you pressed no.”

you swallow. “i—”

jaehyun reaches into his pocket.

pulls out a crumpled piece of paper.

your breath catches.

“you didn’t read mine,” jaehyun says.

his voice is quieter now. rough around the edges.

you stare at the letter.

the ink is smudged. the paper is creased, worn like he’s been holding onto it for days.

like he was going to give it to you, like he wanted to stay.

your stomach twists.

“jaehyun.”

he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “i just don’t get it.”

his voice cracks on the last word.

you don’t know what to say. you don’t know how to fix this.

but maybe… maybe it’s not too late.

silence stretches between you.

you don’t look away from the letter.

jaehyun doesn’t either.

there’s a tension in the air, thick and heavy. you try to swallow it down, but it doesn’t go away.

finally, jaehyun exhales.

he shoves a hand into his jacket pocket, gaze dropping to the floor. “you don’t have to say anything,” he mutters. “i just—i needed you to know.”

your throat is tight. your fingers twitch at your sides.

you didn’t read mine.

he said it so simply, like it wasn’t the most painful realization of all. because you should have.

you should have waited.

you should have listened.

but you were afraid.

afraid that reading it would mean accepting something real. afraid that pressing yes would mean opening yourself up to something you weren’t sure you could handle.

but now, looking at him, his tense shoulders, his furrowed brows, the way his hands grip the letter like it’s the only thing holding him together. he’s so cute.

you wonder if you made the wrong choice.

you take a shaky breath. “jaehyun…”

he lifts his gaze.

your fingers brush against the edge of the letter. hesitating.

you take it.

jaehyun stills.

you smooth it out carefully, trying not to focus on the places where the ink has bled.

you glance up. “can i—?”

jaehyun nods, once.

so you read.

jaehyun’s letter is messy.

his handwriting is uneven, like he kept pausing, rewriting, second-guessing.

but the words—

the words hit you like a punch to the chest.

it’s not poetic. not perfectly structured.

but it’s real.

and for some reason, that makes it hurt even more.

hey. i don’t really know what to say, which is probably a bad start to a letter. i don’t know what i was expecting when i signed up for this. definitely not this. i thought it’d be a joke. just something dumb i’d try and then delete. but then, somehow, it was you. and i don’t know how that happened, but i’m not really mad about it. it was weird at first. and sometimes it still is. but somewhere along the way, i stopped thinking about it like an “experiment” or a “trial.” it just became normal. i don’t know if that means anything. but i think i like this. i think i like… you. not that it matters. but yeah. that’s it. - jaehyun.

you can tell when he started to get frustrated. some sentences trail off, like he wasn’t sure how to end them. some are underlined, like he wanted to make sure you understood.

but the part that makes your breath catch, the part that makes your fingers tighten around the page—

is near the end.

"i don’t know if that means anything. but i think i like this. i think i like… you."

you stare at the words.

your hands shake.

your vision blurs.

you blink rapidly, forcing yourself to look up.

jaehyun is watching you, expression unreadable.

you open your mouth. but no words come out.

so you do the only thing you can.

you fold the letter carefully. tuck it into your pocket.

and whisper, “i think i made a mistake.”

jaehyun exhales.

his lips press into a thin line.

“yeah,” he says softly. “i think so, too.”

it should be easier than this.

it should be simple. if you like someone, you tell them. if you want to stay, you stay.

but it’s never that easy, is it?

because standing here, in the quiet of the bookstore, with jaehyun staring at you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, it feels impossible to say what you want to say.

your heart is in your throat.

your fingers tighten around the crumpled letter in your pocket.

“so,” jaehyun says, voice quiet. “what now?”

you don’t know.

but you do know one thing:

you don’t want to walk away again.

you meet his gaze.

hesitate.

“i think i liked you before i even realized.”

jaehyun’s breath catches.

your chest feels tight.

you swallow, forcing yourself to keep going.

“i just… i didn’t want to admit it,” you say, voice softer now. “because if i did, then it wouldn’t be because of the app. it wouldn’t be because of some stupid algorithm. it would just be me.”

you take a shaky breath.

“and that scared me.”

jaehyun exhales sharply.

he’s quiet for a long moment, and just when you think he’s going to say something,

he takes a step closer.

then another.

your heart stutters.

he stops just a few inches away.

when he speaks, his voice is steadier than before.

“i don’t care what the app says,” he murmurs.

his gaze is unwavering.

“i like you.”

your stomach flips.

your fingers twitch at your sides.

you want to say something.

but before you can, jaehyun suddenly exhales, dragging a hand down his face.

“god, that was so embarrassing,” he groans. “i can’t believe i actually said that out loud.”

you blink.

a laugh bursts out of you, unexpected and unfiltered.

jaehyun groans again, covering his face. “no, don’t laugh. i was trying to be cool.”

“cool?” you wheeze. “you?”

he glares at you from between his fingers. “i take it back. i don’t like you.”

you grin. “too late.”

jaehyun groans dramatically, but there’s no real frustration in it.

just warmth. just relief.

and when your laughter fades, when the bookstore falls quiet again—

he looks at you. and you look back.

something shifts.

something settles.

and just like that—

it doesn’t feel so impossible anymore.

later, at a coffee shop.

“so,” you say, stirring your drink. “was any of it real?”

jaehyun blinks. “huh?”

“the app,” you clarify. “the ‘fated’ moments. was any of it real?”

jaehyun thinks about it.

“well.” he tilts his head. “the coffee shop thing was definitely on purpose.”

you nod. “and the grocery store?”

“i think you just have bad luck.”

“excuse me?”

jaehyun shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. “i mean, statistically speaking, you were bound to run into me eventually.”

you narrow your eyes. “statistically speaking, i should throw my drink at you.”

jaehyun grins. “you could. but then you’d have to buy me another one.”

you stare at him for a long moment.

then you sigh, leaning back in your chair.

“so… no magic algorithm,” you murmur.

“no magic algorithm,” jaehyun agrees.

it’s strange.

you spent so much time wondering if any of it was real, if the app had manipulated you, if the connection was artificial, if your feelings were manufactured.

but now, sitting here, watching jaehyun poke at the ice in his drink with his straw, you realize something.

you don’t care.

because maybe the app pushed you together. maybe it forced you into situations that you wouldn’t have chosen otherwise.

but the moments you shared?

the conversations, the laughter, the quiet nights at the studio—

that was real. and that’s enough.

and that's something you like the sound of.

—

tysm for reading :>

bnd taglist : @bxnedo

perm taglist : @s0shroe @minoouz @the0p @mon2sunjinsuver

[mybl--dyvalentine]

⋆｡°✩ a table for two, and sunflowers too

sometimes, healing isn’t a grand gesture—it’s sunflowers from a soft-spoken boy who believes in second chances.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — park sunghoon x reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — sad to fluff, generally gn reader, sunghoon x reader, finding love after a breakup, silent boy sunghoon, healing bit by bit, blind date, slighty love at first sight, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — kinda wrote this first as implied male reader, but i didn't really put any male pronouns HAHA, was listening to winner takes it all and read several prompts, plus the music felt really gutwrenching and so thanks for that, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 0.8k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ updated unsorted masterlist coming soon — here's the legacy one!

The world had faded into a monotonous gray since the breakup.

You moved through your days like a ghost, burdened by the stress of work, the fatigue of insomnia, and the empty coffee cups piling up on your bedroom desk—each one a relic of a life you no longer recognized.

The split hadn’t merely ended a relationship; it had erased the version of yourself that once believed in good things.

You couldn't believe that you fell for someone who made you lower your expectations. Was this what love had to be? A constant struggle to compensate for another's flaws? It was a harsh realization, yet you didn’t want to blame the other person. You never wanted to taint their memory in your mind, but the pain lingered like a shadow that wouldn’t leave.

Friends tiptoed around your grief, their pitying glances a constant reminder that you were now the "sad friend," the one who wore melancholy like a second skin.

You felt utterly ... pathetic.

Flopping over your large bed, you heard the light buzz of your phone. Flipping it open amid the dimly lit room, you saw a message from your overly enthusiastic friend.

"Got you a date! Tomorrow. 5 PM. 7th Street Cafe. He’s sweet. Take the chance!”

You lingered, casting a heavy gaze on your screen, your finger hovering above the delete button. Yet a part of you—one that craved to feel anything again—won this time.

Hope, irritation, curiosity—these emotions bubbled to the surface, and you hesitantly decided to accept the invitation.

Maybe this time ... maybe you were ready again.

˚ ⋆ . ˚ . ★ ⋆ .

The noise of the city blurred into the background of your mind as you walked mindlessly through a sea of pedestrians, each person living life as it was intended.

Approaching the cozy café, nestled just beyond the street sign, you paused for a moment. Taking a small breath, your feet unwittingly dragged you toward the entrance of the establishment.

Inside, the café was warm, a comforting contrast to the melancholic grays outside that dripped with the fresh kiss of rainfall. You lingered at your spot, only hearing your heart throbbing in your ears.

What are you even doing here? A last-minute thought crawled into your mind. In this moment of doubt, you realized you’d forgotten how to be someone worth meeting.

And then you saw him.

A tall guy sat near the cafe window, an old sketchbook open in front of him, fingers smudged with charcoal.

He wasn’t striking in the way that demanded attention; he was … soft. Welcoming, with a sense of just the right gentleness in your eyes.

He wore an almost fluffy comfy white sweater, his hair tousled as if he’d run a hand through it to get a quick fix moments ago.

His eyes were downcast as he scribbled, but when he finally glanced up and saw you, his smile unfurled like the break of dawn.

“Hi,” he said, standing too quickly and nearly knocking over his mug. A warm, unguarded laugh escaped him. “H-Hi! I… brought these.”

From beneath the table, he revealed a bouquet of sunflowers, their bold, golden petals contrasting sharply with the muted café and your frayed sweater, somehow defying the storm that brewed in your chest.

"For you ..." He offered with a shy smile.

“F-flowers on the first date, huh?” you croaked, your throat tight.

“Yeah,” he replied, rubbing his neck, suddenly shy. “People say bringing flowers on the first date is overrated and boring, but I disagree."

Unknowingly, a smile crept onto your lips.

He was gentle, yet there was an air of confidence about him — he genuinely wanted to make a connection.

“Sunflowers are stubborn, you know? They grow even in bad soil. Kinda… kinda like people, I guess.”

˚ ⋆ . ˚ . ★ ⋆ .

"And that's how they saw you?" You spoke, coming in as enthusiatic as you could.

"Yeah!" He spoke, his tone as giddy as his story. "Park Sunghoon. My name, written all over the screen!"

"Ugh ... to have such silly friends, am I right?" He nodded, agreeing with you.

You talked. Or rather, he talked — about his close friends, his fascination with charcoal art, his obsession with indie films, and his silly dog who had it out for his houseplants.

You listened, startled by how his voice anchored you, how the flowers in your lap seemed to radiate warmth into your bones. His enthusiasm made you forget that this was your first date together.

He felt like an old song playing softly on the radio, a familiar breeze you were willing to feel on your skin.

When silence fell, it wasn’t heavy. He tilted his head, studying you. “You’re allowed to not be okay, you know? But… I’m glad you came.”

Something cracked then — not a collapse, but a thaw.

You laughed, shaky but real.

He reached for his sketchbook, tearing a page from it — a beautifully drawn bouquet of sunflowers, folded into fourths and placed under your palm.

“Keep this."

"Hmm?"

"It's ... proof I’m not a total stranger anymore.”

You smiled, seeing him talk to you so openly.

In your trance, you never noticed how the sunset tore through the windows, illuminating the room with a golden glow.

The rain had finally stopped, and the sun was setting on the distant horizon, casting a warm light over everything.

˚ ⋆ . ˚ . ★ ⋆ .

The night ended with a stroll under the streetlights, the bouquet cradled in your arms, its vibrant colors a stark contrast to the shadows of your past.

You didn’t kiss, didn’t make promises. But when you got home, you placed the sunflowers in a vase, their faces turned toward the window where the moonlight peeked through.

For the first time in months, you dreamed of something other than what had been lost.

For the first time, you looked forward to what was yet to come.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — like i said, was really inspired by those tiktoks and prompts about breakups, then having some ideas about finding new love after what seems to be a dump of sadness and gloom. personally experienced that too but, life goes on! if you ever feel sad, just know that there are people around you. let them know and they'll help you out. you've got help, even if you feel like you don't. stay strong!

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

[mybl--dyvalentine]

sk8er boi —

pairing : skater boy!taesan x academic gn!reader

summary : taesan, the well known skater, slacker, and band member of boynextdoor, catches the eye of one of the top students in school which leads to a flurry of complications.

warnings : a.n.g.s.t, fluff, band au, woonahk + leehan are wingmen, LOTS of insecurities and insecurites, featuring sung hanbin from zb1 and leeseo from ive as the readers friends.

a/n : IT FINALLY DROPPED !! i've been too obsessed with this song i think i might die. taesan was soooooo sk8er boi coded so like yk i had to.

— wc : 11.6k — not proof read —

the first time you really see han taesan, it’s not at school. it’s not in the hallways where he leans against lockers, talking lazily to his friends, or in the cafeteria where he slouches in a chair, kicking his feet up on the table while jaehyun smacks them off. it’s not even in the skatepark where he spends most of his free time.

it’s in the library.

it’s late. later than you usually stay, but leeseo convinced you to help her cram for an upcoming quiz, and sung hanbin, the responsible one, promised to treat you both to coffee afterward. the library is quieter than usual, the overhead lights buzzing softly as the three of you sit in one of the far corners.

“if i fail this,” leeseo groans, pressing her forehead against the table, “i’m going to cry. like, actual tears.”

“you won’t fail,” hanbin reassures her, flipping through his neatly highlighted notes. “just focus. here, try this question—”

but leeseo isn’t listening anymore. her eyes widen as she nudges you, not-so-subtly gesturing toward the entrance. “look who just walked in.”

you glance up, expecting a teacher or maybe some last-minute studier like yourselves. leeseo has been mentioning a teacher she found cute but you had to cut her out of her delusions.

instead, you see him. han taesan, pushing open the library door with one hand while holding his skateboard in the other. he doesn’t belong here. not in this quiet, studious atmosphere. and yet, here he is, wearing a black hoodie over a band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and the same scuffed sneakers he always wears.

behind him, the rest of boynextdoor trails in. sungho looks bored, running a hand through his hair as he scans the room. riwoo has his headphones on, already bopping his head to whatever he’s listening to. jaehyun is carrying a backpack, which means someone is actually planning to study. leehan is whispering something to woonhak, who nods before laughing under his breath.

they stand out in every way possible. loud personalities forced into a silent space.

“what are they doing here?” leeseo mutters, wrinkling her nose.

“probably failing their classes,” hanbin says, not unkindly but matter-of-fact. “jaehyun’s the only one who actually studies, i think.”

“doesn’t matter,” you say, turning your attention back to your notes. or at least, you try to. but as you read the same sentence over and over, you can’t help but be aware of taesan.

he moves differently from the others. while the rest of his friends slink toward an empty table, he pauses by the bookshelf near yours, scanning the spines of the books with mild interest. it’s weird. you’ve never seen him hold a book before, let alone look for one.

you try not to stare, but then his fingers brush against a book, flipping it open casually. for a moment, he looks genuinely focused, eyes scanning the page like he’s actually reading. but then he shuts it just as quickly, sighing before shoving it back onto the shelf.

“he’s so full of himself,” leeseo says under her breath, watching as taesan finally joins his group. “have you seen the way he acts? like he doesn’t care about anything.”

“he doesn’t care about anything,” hanbin corrects. “except skating. and his band.”

“oh, right, his band,” leeseo scoffs, making air quotes. “like that’s gonna get him anywhere.”

you don’t say anything. it’s not like you disagree after all. taesan’s reputation is as solid as stone. he’s the guy who barely passes his classes, who gets detention for skipping, who spends more time perfecting a kickflip than doing actual homework. your friends see him as a lost cause, and you’ve never had a reason to question that.

but then, as if he can feel you thinking about him, taesan glances up.

your eyes meet for a split second.

it’s nothing. it’s barely anything.

but instead of looking away, he holds your gaze. and then, he smirks. just the slightest twitch of his lips, like he knows something you don’t.

you snap your head down, suddenly very interested in your notes. re-reading the same word again.

“gross,” leeseo mutters. “he’s so arrogant.”

“he really is,” hanbin agrees. “come on, let’s focus. we need to finish this before the library closes.”

you nod, forcing yourself to concentrate, but your mind keeps drifting back to that one moment. his gaze, his smirk, the way he seemed completely unbothered by everything around him.

it was nothing.

but for some reason, it doesn’t feel that way.

you tell yourself it was nothing. a look. a stupid, meaningless look in the middle of the library, a place han taesan doesn’t even belong in. you convince yourself it wasn’t directed at you. maybe he was looking at something behind you. maybe he smirked because of something his friend said.

maybe you’re just imagining things.

but the problem is now you notice him.

it’s not on purpose. it’s not like you want to be aware of him. but suddenly, han taesan is everywhere.

in the mornings, when you walk into school, he’s there in the courtyard with his skateboard, practicing tricks while his friends watch. sungho claps him on the back when he lands a difficult one, and riwoo films clips for their social media. sometimes he messes up, but he never looks embarrassed, he just laughs, shakes out his legs, and tries again.

in the halls, you catch glimpses of him leaning against lockers, chatting with jaehyun or leehan about something you don’t understand. his hoodie is always slightly oversized, his hands tucked into the front pocket like he has nowhere important to be.

in class, he’s not as disruptive as people make him out to be. sure, he zones out, tapping his fingers against his desk like he’s drumming to a song in his head, but he isn’t rude. he doesn’t talk over the teacher or make a big scene. sometimes, you even catch him sketching in his notebook, half-finished designs of skateboards, little doodles in the margins of his notes, messy but interesting. even some lyrics he thinks about while bored.

you don’t realize you’re staring until hanbin nudges you.

“earth to y/n. you okay?”

you blink, tearing your gaze away from where taesan is sitting a few rows ahead. he’s slouched in his chair, twirling a pen between his fingers, not paying attention to the lesson at all.

“yeah,” you say quickly, feeling heat creep up your neck. “just zoning out.”

hanbin raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question it.

but it doesn’t stop there.

one afternoon, on your way home, you take a shortcut through the park. it’s quiet, with only a few people scattered around, mostly kids playing or joggers passing by. but then, near the skatepark, you hear music.

you pause.

it’s a song you don’t recognize, but it’s good. raw, unpolished, but good. you follow the sound until you spot them. boynextdoor, huddled together on a set of stairs near the skate ramps. sungho has a guitar in his lap, strumming casually. jaehyun is humming along while woonhak taps out a beat on his knee. riwoo is messing with his phone, recording bits of their practice.

and then there’s taesan.

he’s sitting on his skateboard, elbows resting on his knees, head tilted back as he listens. his dark hair falls into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“again,” he says after a moment. “start from the top.”

sungho rolls his eyes but starts playing again, and this time, taesan sings.

you freeze.

you’ve never heard him sing before. you know his band performs at underground gigs, but you’ve never gone. you’ve never had a reason to.

but his voice. his voice is rough around the edges, not perfect, but there’s something real about it. something honest.

you don’t mean to linger, but before you can move, taesan’s eyes flicker toward you.

your breath catches.

for a second, neither of you move.

then, instead of looking away, he lifts his hand in a lazy wave, like he’s not surprised to see you there at all.

panic jolts through you, and you do the first thing that comes to mind. you turn around and walk away.

fast.

you don’t stop until you’re a safe distance from the park, heart hammering in your chest.

why are you acting like this? why does it feel like you just got caught doing something you shouldn’t?

it’s not a big deal. it’s not.

except now, han taesan knows you were watching.

and the next day, he makes sure you know he knows.

it happens between classes. you’re at your locker, organizing your books, when a shadow falls over you.

“did you like the song?”

you nearly drop your notebook.

slowly, you turn your head, and there he is. the han taesan, standing next to you like it’s the most normal thing in the world. he smells faintly like cologne and something else, something warm, like sun on pavement.

you open your mouth, then close it.

“what?”

“the song,” he repeats, tilting his head. “you heard it yesterday, right?”

your throat is dry. “i was just passing by.”

he hums, unconvinced. “sure.”

you grip your notebook tighter. “why are you even talking to me?”

taesan shrugs, the corner of his mouth tugging up just slightly. “dunno. you’re interesting.”

your brain short-circuits.

you? interesting?

before you can process that, leeseo’s voice calls out from behind you.

“y/n ! come on, we’re gonna be late!”

taesan steps back, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket.

“see you around, genius.”

and then he’s gone, disappearing into the crowd like he didn’t just completely ruin your entire day.

leeseo and hanbin catch up to you, and leeseo frowns. “what did he want?”

“nothing,” you say quickly. too quickly.

hanbin eyes you but doesn’t press.

still, as you walk to class, you can’t stop replaying his words in your head.

“you’re interesting.”

this is bad.

this is really bad.

the worst part is that taesan doesn’t even try to prove your friends wrong.

after that weird conversation at your locker, you expect him to keep bothering you, to tease you every time he sees you. but he doesn’t. he doesn’t go out of his way to talk to you. he doesn’t change anything about the way he acts.

he just keeps being himself. skating in the mornings, goofing off with his band during breaks, sketching in his notebook when he’s bored in class.

but the damage is already done. because now, whenever he walks past, your stomach tightens. when he laughs with his friends, you find yourself looking before you can stop yourself. and when he catches you and smirks, like he knows you’re paying attention, you have to force yourself to look away.

your friends notice, of course.

“you’re acting weird,” leeseo says one afternoon as the three of you sit in the cafeteria. “ever since he started talking to you.”

“i’m not acting weird,” you say. too quickly.

“you so are,” she insists. “right, hanbin?”

hanbin sighs, poking at his food. “it’s not weird, it’s just… unexpected. taesan’s not exactly the type to take interest in school stuff.”

“yeah, which is why y/n needs to be careful,” leeseo says. “guys like him? they’re fun to look at but nothing else.”

you don’t say anything.

they aren’t wrong. han taesan isn’t like you. he’s a skater, a musician, the kind of guy who doesn’t think too far ahead. and yet…

“maybe he’s not that bad,” you mumble before you can stop yourself.

leeseo stares. “excuse me?”

“i just mean—” you hesitate. “i don’t know. he’s not rude or anything. he’s just… himself.”

“that’s exactly the problem,” she argues. “he doesn’t care about anything. he’s never going to take life seriously.”

you want to disagree. but you don’t.

because if you defend him too much, they’ll know.

they’ll know about the way your heart jumps when he looks at you. the way your brain replays his stupid voice saying see you around, genius.

so you stay quiet.

and you try to push it all away.

but then there’s woonhak.

you don’t know much about him aside from the fact that he’s the youngest in taesan’s group. he’s always laughing, always cracking jokes, always the most energetic of the bunch.

so it catches you off guard when, one day after school, he falls into step beside you as you’re walking out.

“hey,” he says cheerfully.

you blink. “uh… hey?”

“you’re y/n, right?”

“…yeah?”

he grins, nodding. “thought so. you know, taesan’s been talking about you.”

your stomach flips. “what?”

woonhak laughs at your expression. “not in a weird way! just, like—he thinks you’re cool.”

you stare at him.

taesan thinks you’re… cool?

“why are you telling me this?” you ask suspiciously.

woonhak shrugs. “dunno. you seem chill. also, i figured you should hear something about us that isn’t from your friends.”

you tense. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he gives you a knowing look. “we know how people see us. dumb kids who don’t care about school, right?”

you shift uncomfortably. “i mean—”

“you don’t have to lie,” he says, still smiling. “i get it. we mess around a lot, and taesan’s got his whole too cool for everything vibe, but…” he pauses, tilting his head. “you ever actually talked to him? like, really talked to him?”

you don’t answer.

because the truth is… you haven’t.

taesan has spoken to you, sure. teased you, smirked at you, made your heart do all sorts of annoying things. but you’ve never sat down and had a real conversation. never actually asked him about his music, his art, his life.

“he works harder than people think,” woonhak continues. “he just doesn’t show it in the same way you do. and he really does like you, you know.”

your breath catches. “what?”

“not, like, in a romantic way,” woonhak clarifies quickly, though his grin suggests otherwise. “he just thinks you’re interesting.”

there it is again. interesting.

you don’t know what to do with that.

so you do what you always do.

you ignore it.

“cool,” you say, trying to sound unaffected.

woonhak doesn’t look convinced, but he just chuckles. “anyway, just thought i’d say hi. see you around, y/n.”

and with that, he jogs off, leaving you standing there, brain spinning.

you should just let this go. you should listen to your friends, stick to your world, and forget about taesan entirely.

but as you watch woonhak disappear down the street, you feel something shift inside you.

something that tells you, this situation isn’t going away anytime soon.

—

you try your best to forget about han taesan.

after woonhak’s little chat, you tell yourself it doesn’t matter. what he said. ‘he really does like you, you know’ was probably just him messing around. taesan barely even talks to you. he’s just being his usual, reckless self, getting involved where he doesn’t belong.

but no matter how much you try to ignore it, you keep running into him.

and each time, it gets harder to pretend that something isn’t pulling you closer.

the library incident happens on a tuesday.

it’s supposed to be a peaceful afternoon. you’re at your usual table, buried in your notes, trying to focus on your upcoming exams. hanbin and leeseo sit across from you, whispering about something that isn’t school-related.

everything is normal. until the door swings open.

“i cannot believe you actually dragged me here,” taesan groans, his voice breaking the quiet.

you stiffen.

you don’t even have to look to know it’s him. but, unfortunately, you do look—because his voice is impossible to ignore, because your brain is stupid and wants to confirm that, yes, han taesan is standing in the library, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

sungho and jaehyun flank him on either side, looking much more comfortable than he does.

“we dragged you here because you’re failing, dumbass,” jaehyun mutters, shoving him forward.

“i am not failing,” taesan protests. “i’m just… struggling.”

“struggling to even open your textbook,” sungho deadpans, leading him toward a table.

leeseo makes a noise of disapproval. “ugh. them?”

“just ignore them,” hanbin says, flipping a page in his notebook. “not our problem.”

but it is a problem. because now, taesan is sitting just a few tables away from you, slumped over his books, looking absolutely miserable.

you try to focus.

you really, really try.

but then—

“psst. genius.”

your pen stills against your notebook.

you don’t have to turn around to know it’s taesan.

you turn around anyway.

he’s leaned back in his chair, one arm draped over the backrest, looking right at you.

“how do you do this?” he asks, pushing a book toward you like it personally offended him.

“do what?” you say flatly.

“study,” he groans. “it’s so boring.”

jaehyun smacks him upside the head. “shut up and focus.”

you should turn back to your work. you should.

but instead, you sigh. “maybe if you actually read instead of whining, it wouldn’t be so hard.”

sungho snorts. “finally, someone who says it straight.”

taesan huffs. “wow, okay. you could just offer to tutor me.”

“not happening,” you say immediately.

he grins, like he expected that answer. “worth a shot.”

you roll your eyes and go back to your notes. but even as you pretend to ignore him, you can still feel his eyes on you, like he’s waiting for you to slip up and react.

and the worst part?

you kind of want to.

the next time you see him, it’s at the skatepark.

you don’t mean to go there. you’re just walking home, taking a longer route because the weather is nice. and somehow, your feet lead you to the park, where you hear laughter and the familiar sound of wheels against concrete.

you could leave.

you should leave.

but instead, you linger at the edge, watching.

taesan is mid-trick, flipping his board with practiced ease. he lands smoothly, a smug grin spreading across his face as riwoo claps.

“finally,” riwoo says. “took you long enough.”

“shut up,” taesan laughs, grabbing his board.

you don’t realize you’re staring until woonhak pops up beside you.

“you so have a crush.”

you nearly jump out of your skin. “what—“

woonhak just grins. “don’t even try to deny it. i see you.”

“i don’t have a crush,” you say quickly. too quickly.

“uh-huh,” he hums, clearly unconvinced.

before you can argue, someone else joins you—leehan, quieter than woonhak but just as observant.

“are you coming to the show?” he asks casually.

you blink. “what show?”

“we’re playing this weekend,” he explains. “you should come.”

“i don’t think—”

“taesan would love it if you did,” woonhak says, grinning.

you freeze.

leehan elbows him. “stop making it weird.”

“what? i’m just saying.”

“you’re implying things,” leehan mutters. then he turns back to you. “seriously, though. you should come. it’ll be fun.”

you hesitate.

your friends would definitely disapprove.

but then you glance back at taesan, who’s laughing at something sungho said, looking so effortlessly cool, so different from the type of people you usually surround yourself with.

and before you can stop yourself, you say—

“okay. maybe.”

woonhak cheers, clapping you on the back. “knew you had it in you!”

you shake your head, already regretting it.

but deep down, a part of you is excited.

the night of the concert comes faster than expected.

you almost don’t go.

hanbin and leeseo invite you to study, and for a second, you consider it… going back to your routine, pretending like han taesan doesn’t exist.

but something stops you.

something pulls you there.

so now, you’re standing in the middle of a dimly lit venue, surrounded by people who actually belong in this crowd. the air buzzes with energy, anticipation thick as the stage lights flicker.

and then the band steps on stage.

and then he steps on stage.

han taesan doesn’t hesitate. doesn’t falter.

he owns it.

he grabs his mic, runs a hand through his hair, and smirks at the crowd like he knows he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

the music starts, loud and raw and alive.

and then he’s singing.

his voice isn’t perfect. it’s a little rough, a little unpolished, but it fits. it’s real. it’s him.

and then, in the middle of the song, his eyes scan the crowd...

and lock onto yours.

your breath catches. for a second, the world tilts.

he doesn’t look away.

neither do you.

and in that moment, with music thrumming through your veins and taesan’s voice filling the air, you realize

you’re completely screwed.

you can’t breathe.

not because the room is stuffy, or because the music is loud, or because the crowd is pushing in from all sides.

but because han taesan is looking right at you.

the stage lights flicker, flashing over his face, highlighting the smirk curling at his lips. the microphone is gripped loosely in his hand, the strap of his guitar slung over his shoulder. he sings like the stage belongs to him, like the music was made for him, and yet...

his eyes don’t stray from yours.

you feel rooted to the floor, like if you move, you’ll break whatever invisible thread is keeping the two of you connected.

and you hate it. you hate how much your heart reacts to him, how your stomach tightens every time his voice rasps into the mic.

this is bad.

this is really bad.

and it only gets worse when, from the corner of your eye, you see woonhak grinning at you from across the room.

he’s standing near the side of the stage, watching the exchange like he’s witnessing the most entertaining thing in the world.

and then, because he’s the absolute worst, taesan winks at you.

you snap your gaze away, face burning.

but the damage is already done.

because now, you can’t not notice taesan.

the way his fingers glide over the guitar strings so effortlessly. the way his hair falls into his eyes when he tilts his head. the way he smirks between lyrics, like he’s enjoying this.

like he knows what he’s doing to you.

this was a mistake and you shouldn’t have come. but god, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

because even though everything inside you is screaming that this is dangerous, that getting involved with him will only make things complicated.

but still. you don’t want to look away.

not now. not ever.

when the set finally ends, the room erupts into cheers. people push forward, clapping, whistling, shouting their names.

you try to steady yourself, try to ignore the way your pulse is racing, hand gripping your shirt for stabilty, but you feel a graze on your shoulder.

woonhak appears at your side.

“so,” he says, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place. “you’re definitely in trouble.”

you glare at him. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

he snorts. “oh, please. i saw that whole thing. he saw that whole thing.”

“he was just looking at the crowd,” you say, even though you know it’s a lie.

“right. because taesan always makes intense eye contact with random people while singing,” he deadpans.

you groan, rubbing your face. “i hate you.”

“nah, you love me,” he grins. “but not as much as you love him.”

“woonhak—”

“i’m just saying,” he singsongs. “you might wanna start being honest with yourself. and maybe with him, too.”

you don’t dignify that with a response.

but as you glance toward the stage, where taesan is still lingering, laughing at something jaehyun said—

you know woonhak is right.

and that terrifies you more than anything.

—

taesan doesn’t come to practice.

he never skips practice.

it’s something you hear from sungho after school, when he finds you by the front gates, watching the sky darken as you wait for your usual bus. you’re trying really hard not to think about what happened earlier. about the way taesan looked at you before walking away, about the heavy silence he left behind. but sungho showing up with that look on his face makes it impossible to ignore.

“he didn’t show up,” he says, standing next to you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you glance at him. “who didn’t?”

sungho gives you a flat look. “you know who.”

your stomach twists, but you force a shrug. “maybe he had something else to do.”

“he never skips,” sungho repeats, more firmly this time.

you don’t answer.

because what are you supposed to say? 'yeah, it’s probably my fault. i didn’t defend him when i should have, and now he’s upset. i didn’t mean to hurt him, but i still did.'

sungho sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“what happened?”

you swallow. “nothing...”

“don’t lie.”

“i’m not lying.”

he levels you with a stare, unimpressed. “you totally are.”

you exhale sharply, looking away.

“look,” he says, voice softer now, “he’s been acting weird all day. he barely talked during lunch, barely even looked at his board, and now he’s skipping practice? that’s not taesan.”

“i don’t know,” you mumble.

sungho raises a brow. “don’t know, or don’t want to say?”

you press your lips together, gripping the straps of your bag.

because the truth is...

you do know.

and you hate yourself for it.

it started during lunch.

your friends were scrolling through their phones, passing around a video of boynextdoor performing.

“god,” leeseo groaned, wrinkling her nose. “he’s so obnoxious.”

“who?” hanbin asked, leaning over to look.

“han taesan.” she jabbed a finger at the screen. “look at him. he acts like he’s a rockstar or something.”

your grip tightened around your drink.

“he is in a band,” hanbin pointed out.

“yeah, but he takes it so seriously. it’s kinda embarrassing.”

they laughed.

but you didn’t. and you didn't say anything either

you just sat there, staring at the table, pretending like the words didn’t make something in your chest ache.

but just then.

taesan walked by.

he wasn’t close enough to hear everything, but he did hear enough. his steps faltered just slightly, his easygoing expression slipping for just a second before he schooled his face back into something unreadable.

and then his eyes met yours. not angry. not annoyed.

just… disappointed.

like he expected this... like he expected you to be different.

but you weren’t.

you didn’t speak up. you didn’t say anything.

so he walked away.

and now, he’s gone.

—

sungho watches you carefully, waiting.

when you still don’t answer, he tilts his head. “so… it was you.”

“i didn’t do anything,” you say quickly.

“exactly.”

you flinch.

sungho sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“look,” he says, “i don’t know what’s going on between you two, but if this is about your friends—”

“it’s not,” you cut in.

his brows lift. “isn’t it?”

you exhale sharply, looking away.

because it is.

and it always has been.

from the moment you met taesan, you knew your friends wouldn’t approve. you knew they’d see him as reckless, as trouble, as someone you shouldn’t be around.

so you held back.

you pretended you didn’t care, pretended that the way he looked at you didn’t make your heart race, that his stupid grin and sharp comebacks didn’t make you want to keep talking to him.

but you do care. you care too much. and now, it’s hurting him.

“you know he likes you, right?” sungho says, breaking the silence.

your breath catches. “what?”

sungho gives you a look. “don’t play dumb. it’s so obvious.”

you open your mouth, then close it again.

“you like him too, don’t you?”

your heart pounds. “i—”

“you do.”

he says it like it’s a fact. like it’s undeniable.

you swallow, gripping your bag tighter.

“so what are you so afraid of?”

you inhale sharply because the answer is simple.

you’re afraid of what people will say. afraid of how things will change. afraid of being wrong about him.

but most of all...

you’re afraid of how much you want this. how much you want him.

sungho watches as the realization washes over your face.

then, after a beat, he sighs.

“look,” he says, voice gentler now, “i’m not telling you what to do. but if you don’t talk to him soon, you’re gonna lose him.”

the words hit harder than you expect.

“i just want my friend back to normal so just… think about it, yeah?"

you don’t respond... but you don’t need to.

because the moment sungho walks away, leaving you alone with your thoughts, you already know.

you have to fix this.

before it’s too late.

—

days pass, and taesan doesn’t talk to you.

he doesn’t show up at school, and every time you hear the familiar buzz of a new notification, you convince yourself it’s not boynextdoor. not that you’d check it, anyway. not that you’re even tempted.

except you are.

the silence is suffocating.

the whole thing has weighed on you. his disappointment, your hesitation, the stupid comment from leeseo and hanbin earlier, everything. the guilt keeps clawing at you from the inside. and each time you see a new picture of taesan or one of his bandmates posted online, each time you hear about them playing a new show, you feel like you’re suffocating in your own indecision.

but you don’t do anything about it.

because you’re scared.

scared of what your friends will think. scared of what your whole reputation means, scared of breaking the illusion that you’ve built up for all these years. you’ve worked so hard to maintain this image, to fit in with the people you’ve always been around, the friends you’ve known for years. how can you just throw that all away for some guy you barely know?

for taesan?

no.

it’s safer to stay where you are.

so you do what you’ve always done. keep your distance. make yourself busy. keep your head down. you don’t need to deal with whatever feelings you’ve got swirling in your chest. you don’t need to question everything.

but when you hear the news about BOYNEXTDOOR performing at an underground gig that weekend, something in you snaps.

it’s all too much.

you can’t just keep pretending.

you can’t keep telling yourself that everything’s fine when you know it isn’t.

you’re standing in the middle of the hallway when the poster catches your eye. the colors are bright, the date is bold. BOYNEXTDOOR. their name plastered across the top in big letters, their faces a reminder of everything you’ve been trying to ignore.

the gig is that Saturday.

you don’t know how long you stand there, staring at the poster, feeling the weight of your own indecision. your heart is hammering in your chest, a familiar sense of unease gnawing at your insides.

but this time, you don’t look away.

this time, you’re not running from it.

you don’t tell anyone about it. not leeseo, not hanbin. not even sungho. you don’t need their opinions right now. you’ve heard enough of them. you just… need to make a decision. your own decision.

when the night of the gig arrives, you feel sick to your stomach.

your heart thuds against your ribcage, the adrenaline buzzing through your veins like you’re about to jump off a cliff. you’re standing outside the venue, the doors just up ahead, with a small crowd already lining up in front of you. the building’s dark, unmarked by anything other than the small neon sign above the entrance. the thumping music from inside pulses through the walls, and for a second, you think about turning around, walking away.

but you don’t. you walk forward.

because for the first time in ages, you don’t care about what anyone thinks.

and you want to see taesan.

you want to see him so badly that it almost hurts.

you missed him. his smirk, his teases, his presence.

the crowd outside is packed with people, but you push through, feeling the warmth of the others as they chat amongst themselves, their energy high. you walk in, and the moment you do, the music hits you. the bass reverberates in your chest, and for a split second, you forget everything.

until you see them.

you see BOYNEXTDOOR on the stage, taesan right at the front, his guitar slung across his shoulder, his eyes scanning the crowd. when they meet yours, something shifts in his expression. he doesn’t smile, but there’s something there, something that makes you freeze in place.

but he doesn’t come over.

he doesn’t even move.

and you don’t know if that’s worse. if you should be relieved, or if you should be disappointed that he’s not even trying anymore.

you’re frozen, staring, and then you feel a tap on your shoulder.

woonhak.

he grins, the usual playful glint in his eyes. “hey, didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

you swallow, blinking, trying to force your heart to calm down. “yeah. well… i guess i changed my mind.”

woonhak studies you for a second, his smirk softening into something that’s just a little too knowing for your liking. “you’re here for taesan, huh?”

“i—” you start, but you can’t finish the sentence. because it’s true. you are here for him.

woonhak laughs, nudging you with his elbow. “you’re not fooling anyone, you know.”

you look away, not answering.

he doesn’t press. instead, he just leads you to a spot near the front, a little closer to the stage. you can see the others now: jaehyun, riwoo, leehan, sungho. all of them lost in the music. and then you see taesan again, this time a little closer, his fingers moving across the strings of his guitar as if nothing in the world matters but the rhythm.

it’s intoxicating.

and, as you stand there, all you can think about is how badly you want to be a part of his world.

you glance at woonhak, and there’s a glint of something in his eyes, like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind. he catches your gaze and gives you a little nudge with his shoulder. “maybe you should talk to him after the set,” he says, his voice light, teasing.

you bite your lip. you want to say something, anything, but instead you just nod.

because the truth is, you’re terrified.

you’re terrified of what taesan might say. terrified of what might happen if you admit how you feel, how wrong everything has felt without him around, how much you’ve been hurting without the chance to make things right.

the set continues, and you find yourself caught in the music, in the connection between the band and the crowd. for the first time in forever, you feel like you belong. you feel like you could belong.

and when the music finally dies down and the crowd goes wild, cheering for an encore, you glance over at woonhak. he looks at you, then at taesan, and then back at you, his knowing grin widening.

“he’s waiting for you,” he says quietly.

you can’t breathe for a second, your heart thudding louder than the sound of the crowd.

you finally nod, the decision clear now, undeniable.

you’ve kept up appearances for too long. it’s time to stop running.

you push your way through the crowd, heading straight for the backstage area. you don’t look back. you don’t care who sees.

because, finally, you’re choosing him.

you can feel woonhak and leehan’s eyes on you as you make your way through the crowd. it’s like the air is thicker, charged with anticipation, but you don’t stop. your feet move on their own, pulling you toward the backstage area where the rest of BOYNEXTDOOR is winding down after the set.

the music fades behind you, but the echo of the bass still thrums in your chest. every step feels heavier than the last, but somehow, you don’t want to turn back. you’ve already made the decision, and now all that’s left is to face him.

taesan.

the backstage area feels quieter now that the excitement of the performance has died down. the crowd’s energy is still buzzing in the air, but it’s starting to feel distant, like an echo that doesn’t quite reach the calm of the space you’re standing in.

taesan’s there, still leaning against the wall with his guitar case by his side, but now there’s an air of distance about him. he barely looks at you when you enter. his attention drifts elsewhere, to the other band members, to anything but you.

your heart sinks at the coldness, the disappointment you see reflected in his posture. you want to go to him, to explain everything, to make it right, but you can’t. something’s stopping you. he’s clearly upset, maybe even mad, and you’re not sure how to fix it.

woonhak, the youngest, is still grinning over the fact that you’ve come here tonight. leehan, always the one to watch everything unfold with an amused look, exchanges a knowing glance with him. both of them seem to be aware of something that you aren’t yet, but you can’t quite place what.

the tension in the air is thick, and for a moment, you almost wish you hadn’t walked in here at all.

then, jaehyun breaks the silence.

“isn’t that y/n?”

he’s pointing at you with a raised eyebrow, clearly surprised to see you standing there. taesan’s wiping his face off with a towel, but his gaze never leaves you.

you freeze, a bit caught off guard by the attention. jaehyun, always so direct, seems more curious than anything. but his question lingers in the air, and all eyes are now on you.

you glance at taesan, but his expression is unreadable. his gaze is fixed on the ground, his body language telling you all you need to know: he’s not ready to engage, not yet.

“yeah,” leehan says, his tone teasing. “didn’t expect to see you here, y/n.”

you swallow, trying to steady yourself. “i wanted to see the performance,” you say, voice quiet, but clear. “i told you i would.”

you can’t tell if they believe you or not.

woonhak’s grin is still there, his eyes glinting with mischief. he looks between you and taesan, sensing the tension before anyone else. “yeah, sure,” he says, as if he knows something you don’t. “we all know how much taesan cares about you coming to the show.”

taesan doesn’t react, but you can feel his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. it’s impossible to ignore.

there’s a long pause, and in that moment, you wonder if you’ve made the wrong choice. if you shouldn’t have come, if you shouldn’t have tried to make things right, because it feels like taesan is shutting you out more with every passing second.

but then, just as you’re about to leave, something unexpected happens.

taesan looks up. just a glance, but it’s enough to make your heart skip. you meet his gaze, and for a moment, it feels like you’re the only two people in the room.

then, without a word, taesan walks past you, ignoring you as if you’re not even there. you can feel the sting of it, the weight of the unspoken disappointment in his actions. your chest tightens, and for a second, it feels like your feet are stuck in place.

you want to call out to him, to stop him, but you’re frozen. you don’t know what to say, don’t know how to make this right.

woonhak watches you, his grin still there but a little less playful now. he gives you a knowing look. it’s like he’s aware of the struggle inside you, aware of the way taesan is pulling away even though he knows you’re standing there

“he’s not mad at you,” woonhak says softly, catching your eye. “he’s just… not sure how to act around you, y/n.”

you don’t reply at first, still processing the way taesan ignored you, the way his distance felt like a rejection. but woonhak’s words sink in.

“he likes you,” leehan adds, his tone more serious now. “but he’s not good at showing it.”

the words hit you harder than you expect. they settle in your chest, a mix of confusion and longing. taesan likes you? it doesn’t feel like it, not when he won’t even look at you.

“why doesn’t he just... say it then?” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper.

woonhak shrugs. “he’s still trying to figure it out, y/n. he doesn’t want to mess things up, especially when you’ve got so much going on with your friends and everything.”

you stare at him, your heart beating faster. you can’t deny it now. it’s clear that something is there between you and taesan. something you haven’t been able to admit to yourself until now.

and yet, despite everything, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re caught between two worlds. your friends, your reputation, and then taesan, someone you never expected to feel this strongly about.

“he’s scared, y/n,” leehan says, his voice quieter now. “he doesn’t want to be the reason you ruin your life.”

you look at taesan again, still standing off to the side, conversing with jaehyun, his face unreadable. his posture is stiff, almost like he’s bracing for something. maybe he’s bracing for you to walk away, for you to choose the people you’ve always been with instead of him.

you feel the weight of it all. the pull of your friends, the pressure of their expectations. and then there’s taesan, standing there, vulnerable in his own way, waiting for you to decide.

the silence between you two feels like it could last forever, and yet, it’s the moment you need to make the choice.

but you’re scared.

you don’t want to lose your friends, don’t want to mess up everything you’ve worked so hard for. but you also don’t want to lose taesan.

the choice weighs heavy on your chest, but you can’t stay frozen forever. you can’t keep ignoring what you feel.

and, maybe for the first time, you finally make a decision.

time to come clean.

the quiet hum of the room feels more suffocating than peaceful. you’re sitting on the edge of one of the couches backstage, fiddling with your phone aimlessly. it’s been a few minutes since taesan walked away, and you’re still left with this gnawing feeling that you could have done something different.

the members of BOYNEXTDOOR are scattered around the area, some talking amongst themselves, others sitting with instruments or music sheets in hand. it’s almost like nothing happened. but you know that’s not true. you can feel the weight of the tension hanging in the air, especially when you catch woonhak’s gaze across the room. he’s giving you a sympathetic smile, though it doesn’t make you feel much better.

you want to walk up to taesan, to explain everything, but you can’t. he’s still standing there, staring off into the distance, his arms crossed.

instead, you settle for hanging out with riwoo.

“you okay?” he asks, sitting next to you with a curious look. his voice is light, but there’s an edge of concern in it.

you nod, offering a tight smile. “yeah, just…” you trail off, unsure of how to explain what just happened. you don’t want to sound like you’re complaining about taesan. it’s not like you’re angry with him. in fact, you can’t even be angry with him when you’re just as confused.

“he’s hard to read, huh?” riwoo says, his voice calm but knowing. it’s like he’s read your mind.

you glance at him, surprised. “yeah. i don’t know what’s going on with him. it’s like, one minute, he’s all… well, taesan, and then the next, he’s distant. it’s frustrating.”

riwoo leans back on the couch, resting his head against the backrest as he watches the others in the room. “taesan’s always been like that. he’s not great with… emotions, you know?”

you blink at him, unsure where this conversation is headed. “so what, he just shuts people out?”

“basically,” riwoo says with a slight shrug. “he’s not really used to being honest about how he feels. but I think he does like you, y/n. he just doesn’t know how to show it without pushing you away.”

the words hit you like a freight train. taesan likes you? all this time, you’ve been so unsure of what he wanted, what he needed, and now it feels like it’s been right in front of you.

“but he’s been ignoring me…” you say quietly, almost to yourself.

“he doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that you’re... well, you’re you,” riwoo adds, his tone light but thoughtful. “you’ve got your own friends, your own reputation. taesan doesn’t want to mess that up for you. he’s scared of it, y’know?”

that was the second time it's come across you. taesan cares about your reputation, maybe more than you.

the pieces start to click together. you’ve been dancing around your feelings for taesan, unsure whether to admit them or not, and now it seems like he’s been doing the same thing. the difference is, you’ve been letting the fear of judgment hold you back. taesan’s fear is different. he’s afraid of losing you.

the realization makes you uneasy, but in a good way. there’s something so real about the way riwoo describes taesan, and for once, you can’t help but want to believe it.

just as you’re about to respond to riwoo's comment, woonhak appears, practically bouncing into the room. his eyes are wide, and there’s a mischievous grin on his face.

“you should go talk to taesan,” he says, the grin never leaving his face. “he’s still being stubborn, but I think he’s ready to listen.”

you frown. “how do you know?”

“because,” woonhak says with an exaggerated shrug, “he’s been pacing around like a lost puppy ever since you saw eachother.” he looks between you and riwoo. “and leehan’s not much better. he’s the one who convinced him to talk, so… yeah. go talk to him. he’ll listen... eventually.”

you want to tell woonhak you’re not ready, that you don’t know how to fix things with taesan, but something in the way woonhak says it makes you feel like you have to.

“just go for it,” riwoo says, giving you an encouraging nod. “you’ve got nothing to lose.”

you nod, though your heart is pounding in your chest. you stand up slowly, feeling a little out of place in the midst of all the quiet chaos around you. taesan’s still by the wall, his posture tense. you can tell he’s trying to convince himself that it’s fine, that everything is fine, convincing himself you’re just here for the music, just like the others.

but you know that’s not true.

he knows that's not true.

as you approach him, you hesitate for a second, unsure of what to say. but before you can even open your mouth, taesan speaks first, his voice low and a little defensive.

“you didn’t have to come, you know,” he says, not looking at you. his voice is almost too casual, as if he’s trying to brush off the seriousness of the moment. “I mean, this isn’t really your kind of music.”

you bite your lip, fighting the urge to just walk away. his words sting, but you know he’s just trying to protect himself.

“I came because I wanted to see you,” you say, your voice steady even though you’re terrified of how it sounds. “I didn’t come for the music, taesan. I came for you.”

there’s a long pause, and for a moment, you think you’ve said the wrong thing. but then taesan finally looks up at you, his eyes flickering with something you can’t quite place.

“you don’t have to pretend for me, y/n,” he says, his voice quieter now. “you don’t need to act like you like this stuff just to be around me. I get it.”

you shake your head, your heart racing. “I’m not pretending. I… I like you, taesan.”

taesan freezes, his expression softening slightly. he opens his mouth to say something, but the words get caught in his throat. instead, he exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair.

“you’re not just saying that because you’re here, right?” he asks, his voice uncertain.

“no,” you reply, taking a step closer. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I like you, taesan. I’ve liked you since you looked at me in the library, and I’m sorry I was too scared to admit it before.”

there’s a brief silence, and then taesan finally lets out a breath he seems to have been holding for a long time. his lips curl into a small, almost shy smile.

“you’ve always liked me?” he asks, his voice soft with a hint of disbelief.

“yeah,” you whisper. “I just… I was worried about what people would think. about what my friends would think.”

taesan’s expression softens even more, and he steps a little closer to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “you don’t have to choose, y/n. I never wanted you to. I just wanted you to be honest with yourself.”

you blink, surprised at how easy it is for him to say that. “honest with myself?”

“yeah,” he says, his voice low and steady now. “I just needed you to admit that you feel the same way about me. I didn’t want you to choose between me and your friends.”

you stare at him, feeling the weight of his words settle in your chest. it’s like a weight lifting off your shoulders, the tension you’ve carried with you for so long melting away.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, stepping closer. “I was scared.”

“it’s okay,” taesan says softly, his hand reaching for yours. “you don’t have to be anymore.”

and for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything’s finally making sense.

the moments following your confession feel like the longest stretch of time. taesan is standing in front of you, his presence almost suffocating, and for a split second, you’re unsure if he believes you. it’s the kind of silence that hangs in the air, thick and heavy, like it’s too much to fill with anything but the things unsaid.

taesan takes a step back, running a hand through his messy hair, his eyes not quite meeting yours. it’s clear he’s thinking hard about something, but what? you can’t tell. your heart is pounding in your chest, and a part of you is terrified you’ve said too much, too soon, but another part is relieved. you’ve finally admitted it. finally let the truth out into the open.

and then taesan looks at you, his gaze softer now, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. “you really do like me?” he asks, his voice still unsure but laced with something else. maybe hope? maybe fear?

you nod, your breath catching in your throat. “yeah. I do.”

there’s a long pause, and you watch him carefully. his hands are shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket, his lips pressed together as though he’s trying to figure out what to do next. you’re not sure if he’s angry, confused, or just processing everything, but you wait, giving him space to think it over.

“you should’ve told me sooner,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “I’ve been waiting for you to admit it. but I guess I didn’t want to push you.”

you take a step closer, your heart fluttering nervously. “I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I didn’t want to mess things up with my friends, you know? I’ve had this group for years, and I didn’t want to seem like I was changing everything just because of you.”

taesan’s eyes soften as he watches you, and he takes a deep breath, clearly trying to wrap his head around what you’re saying. “I get it,” he says quietly.

his words settle into you, and you realize for the first time that maybe taesan’s always understood more than you gave him credit for. he’s not asking you to give up your friends, and he’s not trying to pull you away from the life you’ve built.

“so… what happens now?” you ask, a little unsure of where to go from here.

taesan shrugs, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, almost playful smile. “we figure it out. I’m not going anywhere, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

you breathe a sigh of relief, the weight on your shoulders finally lifting. you’ve said what needed to be said, and taesan isn’t pulling away. instead, he’s looking at you with a new understanding, and it makes your heart feel lighter than it has in a long time.

just then, you hear footsteps approaching, and you turn to see woonhak and leehan walking toward you, both of them wearing knowing grins. leehan gives you a teasing wink, while woonhak’s grin is a little wider, almost smug.

“well, well,” woonhak says, his voice loud enough for taesan to hear, “looks like someone’s finally come clean.”

you feel your face heat up, and taesan groans softly, running a hand through his hair again in that familiar frustrated gesture. “don’t start,” he mutters under his breath.

leehan raises an eyebrow, clearly not willing to let taesan off the hook. “we saw the whole thing. looks like y/n’s got the guts after all.”

you glance over at taesan, who’s still avoiding eye contact, and let out a soft laugh. “it wasn’t exactly how I planned it.”

“hey,” woonhak says, his tone suddenly much more serious. “we’re not here to mess with you two. but, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you told him.”

taesan looks up at him, his expression softening, though he still doesn’t seem to know how to react. “you guys were waiting for this to happen?”

“obviously,” leehan replies, flashing a grin at you. “we could see it coming from a mile away. it was just a matter of time.”

woonhak chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “honestly, I’m just glad y/n showed up at the concert. I knew you’d figure it out.” he looks at you with a smile that feels almost reassuring. “you were meant to be here, y/n. not just for the music.”

you can’t help but smile, feeling the warmth in woonhak’s words. it’s as if, for the first time, you realize that taesan and his friends aren’t the strangers you’ve built them up to be in your head. they’re people you can trust. and taesan… well, taesan is someone who’s been waiting for you to figure out what your heart really wants.

taesan doesn’t say anything right away. instead, he just looks at you, his gaze softening. there’s a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that you haven’t noticed before. he’s not the tough, unapproachable guy you assumed him to be. he’s someone who just needed you to meet him halfway.

“I guess it’s about time I stopped running from it,” taesan finally says, his voice quieter now, almost like he’s admitting something to himself. “I don’t want to lose you, y/n.”

you step closer, feeling the warmth of his words settle into your chest. for the first time in a long time, the uncertainty you’ve carried around fades, and you can finally breathe easy.

“I don’t want to lose you either, taesan,” you say, your voice steady.

taesan looks at you, and for a brief moment, there’s this look of understanding that passes between the two of you. he doesn’t need you to make a choice between him and your friends. he just needs you to be true to yourself.

“so,” leehan starts, breaking the silence with a grin. “what now? you two gonna kiss, or what?”

you and taesan both freeze, the air suddenly feeling thicker than ever. taesan blushes, his face turning a shade of red that matches yours, while woonhak laughs loudly, clearly amused by the awkwardness he’s just created.

“shut up, leehan,” taesan mutters, clearly embarrassed but secretly relieved.

you chuckle softly, feeling the warmth of his presence next to you. it’s a different kind of silence this time. comfortable. familiar.

“you know,” you say after a beat, your voice teasing, “I think we’ll figure it out.”

taesan looks at you, his smile finally breaking through the tension. “yeah. we will.”

and for the first time, you realize that maybe the hardest part wasn’t admitting your feelings. maybe the hardest part was just letting yourself be honest.

—

the weeks following your confession feel like an endless rollercoaster, full of highs and lows. at first, your friends, especially leeseo and hanbin, don’t take the news as well as you’d hoped. you knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you didn’t expect it to hit this hard.

when you first told them about taesan, about how you felt, the reactions were... well, less than ideal. leeseo had stared at you like you’d just announced you were leaving the country, and hanbin had seemed more confused than upset. but the hardest part was seeing the disappointment in their eyes.

it wasn’t that they didn’t care about you. in fact, it was the complete opposite. they cared about you so much that it was more that they couldn’t understand why you would want to throw away years of reputation you built up, for someone who, to them, was nothing more than a rebellious skater.

"are you really sure about this?" leeseo had asked, her voice quieter than usual, her expression tight with worry. "taesan… he’s not like us. he’s part of a different world. why risk it?"

hanbin hadn’t said much at first, just quietly watching, as if waiting for you to change your mind. but the uncertainty was there, hanging between you all, heavy and uncomfortable.

you had tried to explain it to them, tried to make them understand that this wasn’t just some fleeting crush or an act of rebellion. it was real. but they just couldn’t see it. not at first, anyway.

it hurt more than you cared to admit, seeing their disapproval. these were your friends. the people you’d known since childhood. and suddenly, it felt like you were standing on the edge of something, unsure whether to jump or pull back. the fear of losing them, of being alone in your decision, gnawed at you, but something deep inside you knew that you couldn’t keep pretending. you couldn’t keep hiding how you felt.

you just had to trust that the people who truly mattered would eventually see the truth in your actions. that they would come around and accept you for who you were becoming.

and in the end, they did.

it wasn’t immediate, but as time passed, leeseo and hanbin began to understand. it wasn’t about taesan being a skater or part of a different crowd. it wasn’t about the fact that he was in a band or that he lived a life they didn’t understand. it was about the way he made you feel seen, understood, and for the first time in a long time, happy.

"so, when are you bringing him to hang out?" leeseo had asked one afternoon, her voice teasing but genuine. "I want to see what the big deal is with this guy."

hanbin had smiled too, though there was still a hint of hesitation in his eyes. "yeah, he’s got to be something special for you to stick with it this long."

and that was when you realized they weren’t just accepting your decision. they were supporting it. and that, more than anything, was all you needed.

taesan, for his part, had been more than understanding. he’d known how hard it had been for you to get to this point, to finally let go of the mask you’d been wearing, the one that kept you safe in the comfort of your old life. but he never judged you for it.

he made sure you never regretted your decision, pulling you into his world with open arms.

he showed you his music, the songs that were both raw and beautiful, filled with emotions he couldn’t always express in words. you’d always been the academic type, focused on grades and assignments, but now you found yourself getting lost in the music, in the way taesan played his guitar with such passion, as if the notes were extensions of his very soul.

late-night skating became a regular part of your life, too. at first, you were hesitant, worried you’d embarrass yourself or make a fool of yourself in front of his friends. but taesan had a way of making you feel like you belonged. the others, woohak, leehan, riwoo, and jaehyun, had all accepted you with open arms. they didn’t care that you didn’t have the same history with skating that they did. they just cared that you were there, trying something new.

taesan would always smile, his gaze softening as he watched you push yourself, getting better each time. "you're doing great," he’d say, always encouraging, never dismissive. "just keep at it."

and the laughter, oh, the laughter. you had never known what it was like to be this carefree, to just let go and enjoy the moment. taesan had a way of pulling you into his world of easy-going fun, where everything seemed light and full of possibility. the worries that had once weighed you down melted away whenever you were with him.

one evening, after a long session of skating under the city lights, you sat together on the rooftop of a building, the wind blowing softly through your hair. taesan leaned back, his head resting on the edge of the roof, looking up at the stars.

"you know," he said, voice low and casual, "I never thought I’d find someone who’d get me this way."

you glance at him, feeling a smile tug at your lips. "what, you’re not that hard to get."

taesan laughs softly, turning his head to meet your gaze. "you’d be surprised. i mean, maybe when you're not putting up a front it might be different," he jokes,

you nod, understanding more than you ever had before. "yeah, I get that."

he smiles, that real smile of his that always makes your heart skip a beat.

it’s in moments like these that you realize just how much you’ve changed, how much you’ve grown since you met him. you stop worrying about what others think, stop pretending to be someone you’re not. the people who truly matter, the ones who care about you for who you really are, will always be there for you. and those are the people you need to focus on.

you’ve stopped hiding. you’ve stopped pretending. and now, with taesan by your side, you feel like you can face the world as yourself. no masks, no fear. just you and him, and whatever the future holds.

—

it’s been a few months since you stopped hiding, since you started living life as yourself, unashamed, and unafraid. taesan’s world has become your world, and yours became his. BOYNEXTDOOR has started gaining more traction, the band’s energy electrifying, pulling in more fans with every performance. it’s not just the music that’s drawing people in, though. it’s the rawness. the authenticity that the group radiates. and as they grow, so does your connection with them.

sungho, riwoo, jaehyun, leehan, and woonhak. each of them has become an important part of your life. you’ve spent so many late nights with them now, at shows and skateparks, in studios and cafés, and each moment feels more natural than the last. the guys have all grown to appreciate your company, your unguarded nature, your willingness to let go of the walls you once had up.

woonhak’s grin is constant whenever you’re around, and he’s never shy about throwing playful remarks your way. “you know, if you hang out with us more often, you might start getting better at skating. or maybe you’ll just get really good at cheering us on,” he teases, elbowing you gently as you both watch taesan show off his latest tricks at the skatepark.

you laugh, shaking your head. “I think I’m good with cheering for now.”

“yeah, yeah,” he says with a wink. “we’ll see.”

leehan, quieter than the others but equally as kind, has begun to open up to you more too. you find yourself in deep conversations with him after practice, talking about everything from music to fish, which makes you wonder why he has a huge interest in fish. he’s got a way of listening that makes you feel heard, truly heard, and it’s something you’ve come to value in a way you didn’t expect.

“you know,” leehan says one night as you sit beside him on the band’s tour bus, “sometimes, I think you understand us more than we give you credit for.”

you smile softly, a little surprised. “what do you mean?”

he shrugs, staring out of the window. “well, it’s just… you fit in, y’know? and I don’t think you’ve ever tried to be anything other than who you are. it’s refreshing.”

the compliment hits you harder than you expected, and you realize just how far you’ve come since that first day of being unsure about yourself, hiding in plain sight.

jaehyun, the loud and often mischievous member, is always up for a laugh. he’s started making jokes about you and taesan, though it’s never mean-spirited. “so, you two are still doing that whole ‘silent romance’ thing, huh?” he teases one afternoon as the band gathers for a quick break before the next performance.

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “we’re not silent, jaehyun. we just don’t broadcast everything.”

he raises an eyebrow, his grin mischievous. “uh-huh, sure. whatever you say.”

taesan, of course, just watches the back-and-forth with a small smile, his gaze soft. you’re starting to learn how to read him, how his eyes light up with affection and pride when he looks at you, even when he tries to hide it.

“you’re in trouble now,” riwoo adds from the side, glancing between you and taesan.

but there’s something deeper there in the way the group interacts now. it’s not just about the music or the laughs. they’ve truly embraced you as one of their own. you’re no longer just the outsider; you’re part of their family.

and you realize, as the weeks go by, that taesan’s music is beginning to reflect the change you’ve both undergone. he’s been writing more, pouring his heart into the lyrics, and it’s clear from the way he talks about the process that it’s more than just songs to him. it’s his way of expressing everything he’s ever wanted to say, but never could.

one day, as you sit in the studio, scribbling down some notes for your own personal project, taesan walks in, his usual calm demeanor now mixed with a hint of excitement.

“I finished something new,” he says, looking at you. “I want you to hear it.”

you raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “what’s it called?”

“it’s… well, it’s about us,” he explains, shifting a little nervously. “about how I felt when you finally stopped pretending you didn’t care.”

your heart skips a beat as you look up at him, but you don’t say anything. you just follow him to the music setup, where he starts fiddling with his guitar.

he strums the first few chords, and instantly, you know it’s something different. it’s raw and honest, with a touch of rebellion, the sound of someone finally coming into their own after fighting their own doubts.

(listen to sk8er boi during this part guys !!)

when the final chord rings out, the room is silent. you’re sitting there, stunned, unable to process the feelings swirling inside you. it’s a song about you, about how taesan has always been there, quietly waiting for you to see him for who he truly is

he looks at you, his expression soft, almost unsure. “do you like it?”

you can’t say anything at first. your throat feels tight, and there’s a lump in your chest that you can’t shake. finally, you nod. “taesan… it’s perfect.”

he smiles, though it’s shy, as if he’s relieved. “I’m glad.”

later that evening, you’re in the crowd at one of BOYNEXTDOOR’s shows, feeling the energy buzz around you. the crowd is loud, excited, the air electric with anticipation. the lights dim, and the first notes of a familiar tune fill the air.

you recognize the song immediately. it’s the one taesan wrote. and as he steps forward, microphone in hand, he scans the crowd, his gaze lingering on you for a brief moment. there’s no hiding the way his eyes soften when he spots you.

you stand there, in the middle of the crowd, heart racing, as taesan sings the song he wrote for you. the lyrics are even more powerful live, the music thrumming through your body.

woonhak, stands beside you after the set, noticing the way you were both looking at each other. he grins, making eye contact with leehan, who’s watching from the side. they share a knowing look, as if they’ve been expecting this moment all along.

“hey,” woonhak says quietly, elbowing you. “looks like someone’s got the spotlight.”

you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. you’re finally here, in this moment, with taesan. no more hiding, no more pretending.

and as the final chords ring out, you know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

— ty for reading pookies :) —

~ fic taglist - @the0p

~ bnd taglist - @bxnedo

~ perm taglist - @s0shroe

[mybl--dyvalentine]

just for fun ( jeong jaehyun )

▍ there’s nothing wrong about kissing your bestfriend just for fun, right?

content : 1.9k words, male reader, bestfriend! jaehyun, fluff fluff and fluff again, mutual pining, detailed kiss scene.

friday nights were sacred.

no matter how crazy life became — whether jaehyun was juggling back-to-back schedules with his group or you were drowning under a mountain of deadlines — movie night was untouchable.

it wasn’t something either of you had ever needed to discuss about; it was just there, as natural and essential as breathing. a tradition born from years of friendship and countless nights spent sprawled out on your couch.

the setup was always the same: the couch, an oversized blanket big enough to cover both of you, the coffee table crowded with snacks and drinks.

jaehyun always managed to make a mess with the popcorn, and you never failed to call him out for it, only for him to grin sheepishly every time, a sparkle in his eyes that promised he'd absolutely do it again next week.

it was comfortable, dependable. a routine so ingrained that neither of you could imagine life without it.

tonight, like every other friday, the two of you had settled into your usual spots.

jaehyun was stretched out beside you, his long legs taking up more than their fair share of the coffee table. one of his socks was missing (why, you didn't know and didn't care to ask) and the other hung loosely from his foot like it was holding on for dear life.

and you were curled up at the opposite end of the couch, the blanket draped across both of you, your toes brushing his shin beneath its soft folds.

the movie you’d picked — a romcom that netflix had all but begged you to watch — played on the tv. you weren’t paying much attention though, the storyline fading into white noise as you absently picked at the popcorn. jaehyun, on the other hand, seemed more invested, his dark eyes fixed on the screen.

it wasn’t until the movie reached its climactic make-out scene that the atmosphere shifted. the two characters on screen were tangled up in each other, all messy passion and heavy breathing. you glanced at jaehyun out of habit, expecting him to crack a joke or roll his eyes like he always did during these moments.

but he didn't.

instead, he was quiet, his expression thoughtful in a way that set your nerves on edge.

“what if we tried that?”

his voice was so casual, so matter-of-fact, that it took a second for his words to register. you blinked, turning your head to look at him fully.

“what?”

jaehyun didn't look away from the screen, his hand dipping lazily into the popcorn bowl, grabbing a handful as he spoke.

“that,” he nodded toward the tv, his tone so relaxed you almost thought you'd misheard. “kissing. you and me.”

the words hit you like a cold splash of water, and you stared at him, waiting for some sign that he was joking. but his expression didn’t change.

he chewed his popcorn slowly, his face calm, like he’d just asked what you wanted for dinner.

“i… uh…” you stammered, suddenly hyper-aware of the blanket you were sharing and the way his knee was just barely brushing yours. “what are you talking about?”

jaehyun finally looked at you then, his gaze steady and calm, his lips twitching into the faintest smile.

“i’m just asking,” he said with a shrug, like it wasn’t the most absurd thing he’d ever said. “you’ve never thought about it?”

you let out a disbelieving laugh, your heart pounding in your chest. “thought about kissing you?”

“yeah,” he nodded, leaning back against the couch, his expression unreadable. “i mean, why not? we’re best friends. we’ve done everything else together. what’s one more thing?”

“jaehyun…” you trailed off, unsure how to even respond.

he was really serious — or at least, he didn’t seem to be joking at all. and that made it worse. or better. you couldn’t decide.

he turned his head to look at you again, his gaze softer this time. “what? it wouldn’t be weird. i mean, we already know everything about each other. it’s not like it’d change anything.”

“not change anything?” you repeated, incredulous. “you think kissing your best friend wouldn’t change anything?”

“not unless we wanted it to,” he replied simply, his tone so steady it almost calmed the storm raging in your chest. almost.

you stared at him, searching his face for some kind of explanation. but he wasn’t teasing you. he wasn’t laughing or smirking the way he usually did when he was trying to get under your skin.

he was just… waiting.

“you’ve really thought about this, haven’t you?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

jaehyun tilted his head slightly, considering you.

“yeah. i guess i have,” he admitted. “i mean, haven’t you? even a little?”

your brain felt like it was short-circuiting. you wanted to say no, to deny it outright, but the truth was, the idea didn’t seem as far-fetched as it should have.

you’d spent years at each other’s sides, your lives so intertwined that you could barely tell where one ended and the other began. and sure, there were moments — quick, fleeting moments — when you’d looked at him and wondered.

but this? this was real. and it wasn’t a fleeting moment anymore.

“i don’t know,” you said honestly, your voice barely above a whisper.

jaehyun smiled again, a small, patient curve of his lips that sent butterflies swirling through your stomach.

“then let’s find out,” his voice was low, almost hesitant.

you froze the moment he leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, like a question he was silently asking.

it felt like the world had paused, holding its breath along with you. his eyes flicked to yours, searching, giving you all the time in the world to stop him, to pull away, to laugh it off like the best friends you’d always been.

but you didn’t. you couldn’t. your heart hammered against your chest, wild and unrestrained, and you knew he could probably hear it.

when his lips brushed against yours, it was featherlight, tentative, like he was testing the waters, hesitant but hopeful. your breath caught in your throat, and a spark ignited deep in your chest, sending tingles down to your fingertips.

his hand slid up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing an impossibly soft line along your skin. the gentle touch sent shivers cascading down your spine, but it wasn’t unpleasant. your heart thudded against your chest like it was trying to escape, and a warmth you couldn’t explain spread through your entire body.

the kiss was slow at first, unhurried, almost experimental, like neither of you could believe what was happening. but then, instinct took over. you kissed him back before you could think better of it, your body moving on its own, feeling the slight curve of his smile against your lips. warmth bloomed between you, and your heart pounded harder with every second.

his lips were softer than you’d imagined — though you weren’t sure why you were imagining it at all. he tasted faintly of the popcorn you’d shared earlier, and there was something about the familiarity of it that made your chest ache in the best way.

jaehyun tilted his head just enough to fit perfectly, deepening the kiss in a way that felt so natural, it was almost like muscle memory. one of his hands slipping to your hip while the other stayed on your jaw, his fingers curling there gently, and he pressed closer, so close you could feel his breath mingling with yours.

you couldn’t think about anything else. it was just him: the warmth of his body so close, the way his lips moved against yours like they belonged there, the gentle press of his fingertips against your skin.

the world around you just… faded, like it didn’t exist anymore. all that mattered was this moment, the two of you tangled in something unsaid but utterly undeniable.

when the kiss finally ended, the two of you pulled back slowly, your foreheads brushing against the other as you tried to catch your breath. your chest heaved, and you realized he was breathing just as hard as you were, his lips slightly parted as though he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

before you could speak, before you could even begin to process what had just happened, jaehyun grinned, a soft, lopsided grin that made your heart flip, and leaned in once again. this time, it wasn’t as tentative. he pressed a quick, playful kiss to your lips, a soft 'mwah' sound filling the quiet space between you.

his hand on your jaw tilted your head just slightly, like he didn’t want to give you any room to second-guess this.

it was over almost as soon as it began, but it left you blinking, stunned, your heart beating so loudly it was all you could hear. he chuckled softly, his face still close, his breath fanning over your skin.

“okay,” jaehyun said, leaning back just slightly, though his hand lingered on your hip. “i’m officially adding that to our list of top-tier decisions.”

you let out a shaky laugh, the sound more real than you expected it to be.

your hand, which had somehow ended up tangled in his hair, slipped back into your lap. you glanced at him, taking in the way his lips were slightly swollen, his hair adorably mussed, his cheeks dusted with a faint pink.

“i can’t believe you actually…” you started, your words trailing off as you gestured vaguely between the two of you.

“kissed you?” he finished for you, his lips quirking into that lopsided grin. “yeah, me neither. thought you’d push me off the couch, to be honest.”

you shook your head, the heat in your cheeks spreading like wildfire.

“i thought about it,” you admitted, only half-joking, your voice quieter now.

his grin softened into something gentler, something that made your chest ache all over again.

“but you didn’t,” he said, his tone quieter.

you swallowed, your throat dry, and shook your head again. “no. i didn’t.”

for a moment, the air between you shifted.

the weight of what had just happened settled over you both, heavy but not unwelcome. it felt like standing on the edge of something new, something you couldn’t quite name yet.

jaehyun nudged your knee lightly with his own, breaking the tension just enough.

“so,” he said, leaning back against the couch with a sigh that was almost too casual. “what’s the verdict?”

you raised an eyebrow, the heat still lingering on your face. “the verdict?”

“yep,” he tilted his head, his grin teasing but his tone softer, more earnest. “should we pencil in a round two?”

you rolled your eyes, though your lips betrayed you, curving into a small smile.

“you’re lucky that wasn’t terrible,” you muttered, your voice fond despite yourself. “or we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

jaehyun let out a laugh, deep and warm, and you felt yourself relax into it. the movie playing in the background faded into little more than white noise. the real focus was here, in the space between you two.

after a quiet moment, jaehyun spoke again, his voice softer this time.

“this doesn’t feel weird, does it?”

you shook your head slowly, meeting his gaze. “no. it doesn’t.”

and it didn’t. for all the ways it should’ve felt strange or awkward, it didn’t. it felt…right. comfortable. like something that had been waiting to happen all along.

jaehyun’s lips quirked into another soft smile, his gaze warm and steady on yours.

“good,” he said, his voice a little quieter now. “because i think i kind of like kissing my best friend.”

[mybl--dyvalentine]

jealousy jealousy —

pairing : roomate!sungchan x gn!reader (no pronouns used)

summary : sungchan gets jealous after you bring home a date.

warnings : VERY jealous sungchan, fluff at the end, (spoiler but good ending), reader is very forgiving

a/n : i'm craving some jealous sungchan :3 sorry if it’s not that good… kinda rushed :( they are very fun to make so lmk if you guys want more jealousy :]

— wc : 1.3k — not proof read —

it’s a quiet friday evening when you bring your date home. sungchan’s sprawled on the couch, a half-empty bag of chips resting on his chest as some random variety show plays on the tv. he’s been like that for most of the day, lazily flipping through channels and pretending not to notice how often he’s been glancing at the clock. when he hears the door unlock, he perks up, expecting to see you walk in alone like you usually do. but instead, someone else follows behind you.

his smile falters, and he quickly masks it by sitting up and brushing crumbs off his hoodie. “oh,” he says, trying to sound casual. “hey. didn’t know you were bringing someone over.”

you offer him a small smile, your date shifting awkwardly beside you. “yeah, hope it’s okay. this is--”

“doesn’t matter,” he cuts you off, waving his hand dismissively. there’s a tightness to his voice you don’t catch. “i’ll just… stay out of your way.”

“thanks,” you reply, your tone light but with a hint of unease. you introduce your date briefly, their polite smile doing little to alleviate the awkwardness. sungchan watches as you lead them to the kitchen, his jaw clenching slightly when you laugh at something they say.

he knows he’s being ridiculous, but the jealousy bubbling in his chest is hard to ignore. you’ve always had this way of lighting up a room, your energy contagious and magnetic. it’s one of the things that first drew him to you, though he’d never admit it out loud. and now, seeing you share that with someone else, it stings more than he’d like to admit.

he’s always known he’s had a soft spot for you. maybe it’s the way you’re always humming to yourself while doing chores, or the way your nose scrunches up when you’re deep in thought. or maybe it’s the small, thoughtful gestures—like leaving him snacks on the counter when you know he’s had a long day. whatever it is, it’s enough to make him feel a pang of possessiveness when he sees you with someone else.

he’s not proud of what happens next.

“y/n,” he calls out, poking his head into the kitchen. “uh, the hot water’s been acting up. might wanna warn your guest about the shower.”

you glance at him, frowning slightly. “it was fine this morning.”

“yeah, well,” he shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “just thought i’d let you know.”

your date shifts uncomfortably, offering a polite smile. “thanks for the heads-up.”

sungchan lingers for a moment before retreating to the living room, where he’s already brainstorming his next move. it’s petty, he knows, but he can’t help himself.

later, when you and your date are settling in to watch a movie, sungchan decides to “accidentally” interrupt. he strolls into the room, dramatically yawning as he stretches.

“you guys watching something good?” he asks, plopping down on the armrest of the couch.

you’re visibly annoyed now. “we were trying to, sungchan.”

he doesn’t take the hint, leaning over to grab the remote. “what is it? rom-com? action? oh, wait, let me guess… indie art film?”

“it’s none of your business,” you snap, snatching the remote back. “can you give us some space?”

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “alright, alright. just trying to make conversation.”

but he doesn’t leave right away, instead loitering for another minute before finally retreating to his room. the damage, however, is done. your date’s clearly uncomfortable, and the evening doesn’t recover after that.

when they finally leave, you’re fuming. you storm into sungchan’s room without knocking, arms crossed and eyes blazing.

“what was that?” you demand.

he looks up from his phone, feigning innocence. “what was what?”

“you were being so rude! you kept interrupting us and making things awkward.”

he shrugs, his expression unreadable. “just looking out for you. didn’t think they were your type.”

you’re taken aback by his nonchalance. “what does that even mean? you don’t get to decide who’s my type.”

“maybe not,” he says, standing up and walking towards you. there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something you can’t quite place. “but i’ve known you long enough to know you deserve better.”

his words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to respond. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

he steps closer, his voice softening. “it means i care about you. more than i probably should.”

your breath catches, the weight of his confession sinking in. you’ve never seen him like this before, so earnest and vulnerable. it’s a side of him he’s always kept hidden, and it leaves you reeling.

“sungchan…” you start, but he cuts you off, shaking his head.

“forget it,” he mutters, stepping back. “just… ignore me. i’m being stupid.”

but you don’t move, rooted to the spot as you process his words. it’s only when he turns away, shoulders slumping in defeat, that you find your voice.

“wait.”

he freezes, glancing at you over his shoulder. there’s a flicker of hope in his eyes, and it’s enough to make you take a tentative step forward.

“you’re not being stupid,” you say softly. “but you can’t just ruin my date because you’re jealous. that’s not fair.”

he winces at your words, but he nods, acknowledging the truth in them. “you’re right. i’m sorry. i just… didn’t know how else to handle it.”

there’s a long pause, the air between you heavy with unspoken feelings. finally, you take another step closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“if you feel this way,” you say cautiously, “you could’ve just told me.”

he lets out a dry laugh, running a hand through his hair. “easier said than done.”

“maybe,” you admit, “but it’s better than sabotaging my night.”

he looks at you then, really looks at you, and there’s a vulnerability in his gaze that makes your heart ache. “i’ll make it up to you,” he says quietly. “just… give me a chance.”

it’s not an easy decision, but the sincerity in his voice and the way he’s looking at you—like you’re the only person that matters—makes it hard to say no.

“one chance,” you say firmly, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “don’t mess it up.”

his face lights up, and for the first time that evening, you see a glimpse of the playful, confident sungchan you’re used to. “i won’t,” he promises. “you won’t regret it.”

in the days that follow, sungchan’s efforts to win you over are nothing short of endearing. he starts leaving little notes around the apartment—sticky reminders of his feelings scribbled with jokes that make you laugh. he cooks dinner for the both of you one evening, sheepishly admitting he looked up recipes just to impress you.

and then there are the quieter moments. the way he lingers a little longer when you’re talking, his eyes fixed on yours like he’s memorizing every word. the way his hand brushes against yours when you’re sitting side by side, neither of you moving away.

one night, you’re both on the couch, the glow of the tv casting soft shadows across the room. he’s close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, his presence comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

“y/n,” he murmurs, breaking the silence.

“hm?” you glance at him, your heart skipping a beat at the tenderness in his gaze.

“can i hold your hand?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

you’re caught off guard by the simplicity of the question, but you nod, sliding your hand into his. his fingers curl around yours, firm yet gentle, and it feels so natural that you wonder why it took you both so long to get here.

“about time,” you tease softly, earning a shy laugh from him.

“yeah,” he agrees, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “but i’m glad we did.”

and in that moment, with his hand in yours and a quiet understanding passing between you, you realize you’re glad too.

[mybl--dyvalentine]

OMHOMGOMG

Cafe Owner ˚

! synopsis: you specifically order two matcha lattes every morning for your boss. however, one day, the cute café owner's kind gesture breaks your repetitive schedule and begins a new chapter with him.

! word count: 722

=======================

you hurriedly got in line, relieved to see the short line in front of you.

"next in line, please," a familiar face welcomed the customer: it was the café owner.

a week ago, the café opened on the first floor of your company. in contrast to the past cafe's unpopularity, employees rushed to get a cup of coffee and especially a look at the café owner's face. his charismatic smile could only attract more customers, warming the café, with his built figure defining more clearly as he poured the drinks.

despite also finding the café owner cute, your daily mission was to get back to your desk with two iced matcha lattes in your hand; one for you and your boss.

you looked down at your watch to check the time: 8:30. you had exactly 30 minutes before making your boss cranky- which was the absolute worst.

"i can help the next person," the owner's eyes lit up as he called for you next.

you walked up to the register, being welcomed to a smell of warm coffee from him. 

"hi, how are you?" he greeted you with a charming smile.

"i'm doing well, how are you?" you asked back.

"i'm doing well too," his direct yet gentle eyes made you freeze as he looked down at the screen to input your order.

"would you like your regular today?" he asked, wanting to confirm despite it being your daily order. you stayed silent, your eyes not wanting to track off his face.

"two matcha lattes?" he looked up from the screen after your silence.

"um, yes please," you embarrassingly smiled. you looked away, wondering if he just saw you as the girl who only ordered matcha.

"and order for y/n..." he muttered as he plugged your order and name into the system. hearing him mutter your name, you couldn't help but look at his name tag: jay, you quietly said under your breath.

"yes?" he said, looking puzzled.

"oh, no. sorry," you awkwardly laughed. embarrassed he heard you. "you have my name memorized but i think it's the first time i've ever seen your name tag," you said.

"no, i understand. i see you're always in a rush, and i couldn't miss a regular customer" jay laughed. "and you know what, i'll have your drink covered today."

"what, are you sure? i use the company card anyways,” you looked puzzled at his kind gesture.

"yeah, i'm sure. it's on me." jay assured you.

"okay, thank you," you thanked him.

although it was nice of him to pay for your drink, you were curious to whether or not this occurred to other regulars. is he interested in me or am i reading the signals wrong? you thought to yourself.

anticipating to be discouraged with his answer, you shyly asked, “do you usually do this for other regulars as well?”

he laughed at your question, finding it silly. “not at all.” a small smile appeared on your face, making you feel special, even if it wasn’t true.

"your drink will be out soon," he said. you nodded and left to wait at a table.

within minutes, he came with a tray with your two drinks and a small packaged cookie. "here's your order!" he placed the tray down carefully. "the cookie is for you so don't forget to eat it."

"thank you. i needed this." you said, appreciating his thoughtful gesture.

happy with your response, jay gave you a genuine smile and left to go back to work. as he left, the corner of lips raised as you curled your lips in. unable to hide your smile, you grabbed the cookie and saw the note attached to it.

"i see you come to the cafe every morning and i think you're really cute. i want to get to know you better! i was wondering if i take you out on a date today after work if you have time. :)"

you looked up from the note to look at him working behind the counter. he noticed you looking at him and raised 7 fingers, mouthing the words, "is 7 pm okay?"

you nodded, happily agreeing to the date. you looked down at the note one more time, anticipating that maybe, you weren't going to find ordering two matcha lattes as a chore anymore.

=======================

[mybl--dyvalentine]

sweeter than cookies ( sung hanbin )

▍ hanbin needs your help for baking cookies.

content : 1300 words, male reader, neighbor!hanbin, fluff fluff and only fluff, hanbin don’t know how to bake cookies (or did he?), they’re both crushing on each other ig.

you were halfway through your favorite tv show when the doorbell rang.

it wasn’t a sound you heard often. living alone meant minimal interruptions, and the only person who ever stopped by was your neighbor, sung hanbin — but that was still rare.

hanbin, the sweet and ridiculously attractive guy next door, always seemed busy with something.

and as much as you’d like to spend more time with him, your interactions were mostly polite greetings in the hallway or quick chats about packages and apartment maintenance.

which is why you weren’t expecting him tonight, especially when you opened the door to see him completely covered in flour.

“hey…” hanbin started, his voice hesitant.

his apron was crooked, his dark hair flecked with white powder, and he was holding a tray of what looked like… well, something burnt beyond recognition.

“i know this is random, but… i need your help. please.”

for a second, you just blinked at him, trying to process what you were seeing.

sung hanbin, always so polished and put-together, stood before you looking like he’d lost a battle with a bakery. his wide, pleading eyes locked onto yours, and you couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“help with what?” you asked, though the evidence was pretty clear.

“baking,” he admitted sheepishly.

he glanced down at the tray in his hands, then back at you. “it’s my friend’s birthday tomorrow, and i thought it’d be nice to make something myself, but… well.”

he gestured at the tray, his expression somewhere between defeated and embarrassed.

your laughter bubbled up before you could stop it.

“hanbin, what even is that?”

“cookies!” he said, trying to sound confident, though the blackened lumps on the tray told a different story. “at least, they were supposed to be.”

you leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you took in the full picture : his flushed face, the smudges of flour on his hands, the way his apron was hanging loosely on one side.

it was hilarious, yes, but also ridiculously cute.

“and you thought i’d be the one to fix this disaster?”

“well…” hanbin shifted his weight, his lips pulling into a shy smile. “i’ve seen you cook. through your window sometimes. you look like you know what you’re doing. and, honestly, i’m desperate.”

there was no way you could say no to him — not when he was looking at you like that.

“alright,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. “let’s see what we can do.”

your kitchen wasn’t particularly big, but it was well-equipped. hanbin stood awkwardly near the counter, holding the burnt tray like it might crumble to ashes at any second.

you grabbed it from him and set it aside, then started pulling out ingredients from your cabinets.

“first off,” you said, turning back to him. “we’re starting from scratch. no offense, but i don’t trust whatever recipe you were using.”

hanbin chuckled nervously. “none taken. i think i might’ve missed a few steps… or all of them.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you didn’t follow the recipe?”

“well, i skimmed it,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “and then i kind of guessed on some of the measurements.”

“right,” you said, trying to suppress a laugh. “lesson one : baking is not guessing. you can’t just throw things together and hope for the best.”

hanbin pouted — a real, full-on pout — and you had to look away for a second to keep your composure.

“okay, chef,” he said, a playful lilt in his voice. “teach me your ways.”

you walked him through the steps, starting with creaming butter and sugar.

hanbin stood next to you, intently watching your hands as you measured ingredients and explained each step. he was surprisingly attentive, nodding along and asking questions that made you pause and smile.

but it didn’t take long for his focus to waver.

“like this?” hanbin asked, taking the spatula from you and giving the mixture a tentative stir.

“almost,” you said, leaning in to adjust his grip. “you want to fold it, not just mix it around.”

you didn’t miss the way his breath hitched slightly when your hand brushed against his. you glanced up, catching him staring at you, his lips parted just enough to make your heart stutter.

“you okay?” you asked, your voice quieter than before.

he blinked, his cheeks coloring faintly.

“yeah! yeah, just… trying to learn,” he said, his tone a little too bright.

you didn’t push it, though the way he quickly turned back to the bowl made you chuckle under your breath.

as the baking continued, hanbin’s attempts at subtle glances grew less and less discreet. he’d watch you as you rolled out the dough, his gaze lingering when you licked a bit of frosting off your finger.

when you caught him staring for the third time, you finally decided to address it.

“is there something on my face?” you asked, breaking the silence.

hanbin froze, his eyes widening. “what? no! i was just…” he trailed off, clearly flustered.

“just what?” you teased, leaning against the counter and folding your arms.

he opened his mouth, closed it, then groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

“i’m not good at this,” he mumbled.

“at baking?”

“at… at pretending i’m only here for baking tips,” he admitted, his voice muffled behind his hands.

that caught you off guard. “what do you mean?”

hanbin peeked at you through his fingers, his ears turning red. “what i mean… i didn’t just come here because of the cookies. i wanted an excuse to spend time with you.”

for a moment, you just stared at him, your mind racing to catch up. he wasn’t joking. the shy, hopeful look on his face made that clear.

“well,” you said slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “you could’ve just asked.”

hanbin’s hands dropped, his eyes meeting yours in surprise. “really?”

“yeah,” you said, stepping closer. “i wouldn’t have said no. though i have to admit, this whole flour-covered, burnt-cookie situation is kind of charming.”

he laughed, the tension in his shoulders easing. “great. so i didn’t have to humiliate myself?”

“not at all,” you said, grinning. “but i’m glad you did. otherwise, i wouldn’t get to see you like this.”

“like what?”

“adorable,” you replied, your voice soft.

hanbin’s breath hitched again, but this time, he didn’t look away. “you think i’m adorable?”

“i do,” you said, holding his gaze. “and next time, maybe we can bake something together from the start. no excuses needed.”

his lips curved into a shy, radiant smile. “i’d like that.”

by the time the cookies were baked and cooling on the counter, the awkwardness between you had melted away. hanbin leaned against the counter, watching you carefully place the last batch onto a cooling rack.

“these turned out way better than mine,” he said, his tone light.

“you don’t say,” you teased, glancing at the burnt tray he’d brought over.

hanbin laughed, the sound warm and infectious. “thanks for helping me. and for, you know… not kicking me out after i showed up looking like this.”

“hey, i kind of like this version of you,” you said, smirking. “flour-covered and hopelessly cute.”

he groaned, though the smile on his face betrayed him.

“you’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“probably not,” you admitted, grabbing a cookie and handing it to him. “but i’ll make it up to you. next time, you can watch me embarrass myself just for trying to impress you.”

hanbin paused, his cookie halfway to his mouth.

“you don’t have to try to impress me,” he said quietly.

the sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

then he smiled, breaking the tension. “but i wouldn’t mind watching you bake more. you’re kind of amazing at it.”

“careful,” you said, grinning. “keep saying things like that, and i might think you actually like me.”

hanbin’s smile softened. “maybe i do.”

and just like that, you knew this wasn’t going to be the last time hanbin showed up at your door.

[mybl--dyvalentine]

luther જ⁀➴ Soobin

✮ lovestruck soobin x non idol male reader

✮ Summary: Soobin is obsessed with you and anything you do severely affects him!

✮ Genre: Fluff

✮ Word Count: 583

"Thank you guys for coming!" Soobin and the other members say to their fans while waving.

You wave back from the crowd, trying to get Soobin's attention but ultimately failing due to you being pushed back by fans determined to get his attention as well. You took this as a sign to just lay back and stay away from the crowd to avoid getting injured. While making your way to the exit, Soobin was scanning the faces of those in the front looking for you. His eyes moved from face to face frantically.

"Where is Y/n..?" He thought to himself.

By then, you've already made it to the exit of the venue. You pull out your phone and text him, "I'll see you at home, you did great by the way." While looking up at the sky, you wonder if you forgot anything. After coming to the conclusion that you didn't, you got into your car and drove off towards home.

---

The cue to say their final goodbyes echoed in Soobin's ears.

"This was Tomorrow x Together! Thank you guys so much!" They all say as they walk backstage.

Soobin instantly runs to his bag so he can check his phone for any notifications. He immediately reads your text message, and his face drops.

"Soobin, what's wrong?" Yeonjun asks him, noticing the change in his face.

"It's Y/n," Soobin responds. "He didn't call me love."

Multiple groans came out of each of the members. Soobin usually overreacts whenever you forget to call him by one of his names or tell him that you loved him all the time.

"Seriously? This happened before, and it was just a misunderstanding. I'm sure you're overthinking this and your boyfriend isn't trying to break up," Taehyun says while rolling his eyes.

Soobin was still worried that you'd break up with him, so he made his way home as fast as he could.

---

The lock on your front door wiggled a bit before finally letting the door open. Frantic footsteps made their way to your closed bedroom door, and a soft knock followed shortly after.

"Y/n..?" Soobin says.

"Yes?" You say back.

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

The door slowly opened, as if to not disturb you and your silence. You see Soobin inch forward with his head low.

He breaks the silence and says, "If I did anything to make you mad, I'm sorry."

"You didn't! What made you think that?" You say.

"I didn't see you at the concert and you didn't call me love.." He says, with his eyes still fixated on the floor.

You couldn't help but laugh. Him seeming troubled over something that could break you two apart, but in reality it was just a trivial thing was funny.

"Wh-what? Is there nothing wrong??"

"No, fortunately there isn't. I just forgot to add that in my text."

Soobin falls onto your bed and into your embrace, his face nuzzled into your chest.

"I'm glad." His words muffled.

As you both drifted off into a slumber, you took a piece of his hair and started playing with it. His breathing slowed and his grip lessened as time passed by. At some points, his grip would tighten like he was afraid that you would leave him.

You whisper, "If it were up to me, I would take away all your pain and give you everything you'd ever want. Including not leaving you. Ever."

It seemed like he heard you since he smiled in his sleep.

[mybl--dyvalentine]

love this

hello stranger ( jeon wonwoo )

▍ wonwoo, a shy poet, finds inspiration in the quiet comfort of a bookstore owner.

content : 1500 words, male reader, bookstore!owner!reader, fluff fluff fluff, wonie is a cutie patootie, requested here.

the soft hum of the bookstore was a kind of rhythm that underscored your life.

the shuffle of shoes on the old wooden floorboards, the distant murmur of the city outside, the faint rustle of pages being turned — it all blended together, wrapping around you like a favorite worn-in blanket.

it was a sound you’d grown to depend on, a steady companion to the otherwise quiet existence you’d cultivated.

you weren’t lonely ; you loved this life.

owning a bookstore was everything you’d ever wanted. people came and went, browsing your shelves, lost in their thoughts, and then disappeared back into their worlds.

and that was fine. you didn’t need much.

but then there was him.

jeon wonwoo had walked into your shop six months ago, though you could still picture the day as clearly as if it had been yesterday.

it was late afternoon, the sky outside a palette of grays and golds after a rainstorm. the bells over the door had jingled softly, and there he was — his dark hair slightly damp, his glasses fogged, and a scarf hanging loosely around his neck.

he’d paused in the doorway, blinking like he’d stumbled into a secret he wasn’t sure he was meant to find.

“take your time,” you’d said from behind the counter, offering him a polite smile.

wonwoo had nodded, ducking his head as if the weight of your words alone might be too much.

you didn’t think much of it at the time.

customers like him came and went — a little shy, a little unsure but most never lingered.

but he did. it became a habit.

every few days, the bells over the door would jingle, and there he’d be, that same tentative look in his eyes.

at first, he browsed without much of a pattern, drifting between shelves like he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for. but eventually, he gravitated toward the poetry section, where he’d settle into one of the small tables tucked into the corner.

it didn’t take long for you to notice the notebook he always carried. he’d sit there for hours, pen in hand, scribbling furiously onto the pages.

sometimes he’d pause, his lips moving silently as if trying out words in his head, before crossing something out and starting again.

you didn’t ask what he was writing.

it wasn’t your business, and besides, you figured it was probably something personal — perhaps class notes or sketches of ideas for some creative project.

but what you didn’t know was that it wasn’t class notes or some generic scribbles in that notebook.

he was writing about you.

wonwoo hadn’t meant for it to happen.

when he first started coming to the shop, he’d been drawn in by its quiet charm and your gentle, unobtrusive presence.

you were a fixture of the place, sitting behind the counter with a book in hand or meticulously organizing the shelves. but somewhere along the way, he found himself looking at you more than the books.

it wasn’t just your calm demeanor or the way the sunlight hit your features in the late afternoons — it was something way deeper.

something about the way you seemed so comfortable in the silence, so at ease in a world that always felt too chaotic to him.

the first time he wrote about you, it was unintentional.

he’d been jotting down thoughts for a poem and realized halfway through that every line seemed to trace back to you.

he’d been mortified, at first, but the words kept coming.

so he kept writing.

every visit to the bookstore became a way to be near you, to soak in the steady calm you seemed to carry with you.

and though he wanted to say something, anything, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“wonwoo,” you’d said one day, surprising him as he passed the counter on his way to his usual table.

he’d blinked, startled that you knew his name.

“you left your receipt in a book last week,” you explained, holding up the slip of paper with his name neatly printed at the top.

“oh,” he said softly, adjusting his glasses. “thanks.”

he’d ducked his head, muttering a quiet apology as he took the paper from you and shuffled to the back of the shop.

after that, though, you made a habit of greeting him by name.

“hey, wonwoo,” you’d say as he walked in, and he’d always respond with a polite nod and a soft smile.

you’d exchange a few words here and there — nothing major, just small pleasantries — but he always seemed a little nervous, a little unsure of himself.

still, you’d noticed the way his eyes lingered on you when he thought you weren’t looking.

it wasn’t until today that things shifted.

wonwoo had been sitting in his usual spot for over an hour, his head bent over his notebook.

from your perch behind the counter, you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his pen moved furiously across the page.

he seemed different — nervous, almost agitated.

you tried not to stare, but something about his energy pulled at your curiosity. he kept glancing up at you, quickly looking away whenever your eyes met.

finally, you couldn’t resist.

you wandered over to the poetry section, pretending to straighten a few books.

when you were close enough, you spoke, keeping your voice light. “working on something?”

wonwoo startled so hard his pen skidded across the page. he looked up at you with wide eyes, his face immediately flushing red. “oh, uh… yeah. kind of.”

“kind of?” you teased gently, leaning against the shelf. “you’ve been scribbling away in that notebook for months. it must be something important.”

he hesitated, his fingers twitching nervously against the edges of the notebook.

“it’s nothing special,” he mumbled, closing it quickly and holding it protectively against his chest.

“you sure?” you asked, taking a step closer. “it seems like it means a lot to you.”

wonwoo swallowed hard, his cheeks darkening.

he stood abruptly, clutching the notebook like it was a lifeline.

“i should go.”

there was something in his voice — nervous, maybe even a little embarrassed that stopped you.

“wait,” you said softly, the word slipping out before you could think.

he froze mid-step, his back to you.

“you don’t have to tell me,” you said gently, holding his gaze. “but… you don’t have to leave, either. you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.”

for a long moment, he didn’t move.

then, slowly, he turned to face you. his expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes.

“i was writing poetry,” he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“poetry?”

he nodded, his fingers tightening around the notebook.

“it’s not… it’s not very good. i’m still figuring it out.”

“everyone starts somewhere,” you said gently. “what’s it about?”

he hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip.

“it’s…about you,” he whispered, barely audible.

your breath hitched. about me ?

wonwoo’s hand shook slightly as he held out the notebook, his fingers reluctant to let it go.

carefully, you took the notebook from him, as if it were something fragile, your fingers brushing his.

opening it, you found a page filled with messy handwriting, words scratched out and rewritten in the margins. the poem wasn’t perfect, but it was raw and honest in a way that caught you off guard.

the poems were beautiful. they captured the smallest details — the way sunlight fell across your face when you stood behind the counter, golden and soft. your hands, the way they moved over books with care, like they were something sacred. the sound of your voice as you greeted customers. the quiet grace with which you moved through the store.

as you read, you realized the poems weren’t just about you, they were about seeing you. noticing the little things no one else did.

your chest tightened.

slowly, you looked up, finding wonwoo watching you nervously, his lips pressed tightly together.

“this is… about me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nodded, his face flushing a deep shade of red. he stuffed his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunching as if he were bracing for rejection.

“i know it’s weird. i just… you’re just… i don’t know. you’re here, and you’re… yeah, i don’t really know how to explain it.”

he was rambling now, his words tumbling over each other in his rush to fill the silence.

“wonwoo.”

he stopped, his eyes meeting yours.

“it’s beautiful. really.” you said, meaning every word.

his lips parted in surprise. “you… you think so?”

“i do,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “you have a way with words.”

for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

the bookstore seemed to hold its breath, the quiet wrapping around you both like a protective cocoon.

“can i read more of it sometime?” you asked finally, your voice gentle.

wonwoo hesitated, then nodded.

“yeah,” he said, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “i’d like that.”

you handed the notebook back to him, your fingers lingering against his for just a moment.

and just like that, the silence between you didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

it felt like the beginning of something.

something good.

[mybl--dyvalentine]

With You જ⁀➴ Taehyun

✮ bf taehyun x gn reader

✮ Summary: You and Taehyun bake a cake together for your birthday and it's super cute!

✮ Genre: Fluff

✮ Word Count: 805

✮ Author's Note: I'm back! With minimal effort, I managed to write something for once. please enjoy.

The sound of your doorbell fills the empty hallway, alerting you that someone's at your door. You quickly set your phone down on the counter and make your way towards the door. The person rings your doorbell again.

"Coming!" You say as you rush towards the door.

You open the door to see your boyfriend, Taehyun. He’s carrying a grocery bag filled to the brim and a big smile plastered on his face.

“Hi babe, Happy Birthday!” He says.

“Hi, thank you so much!” You say back.

He somehow smiles even more and takes a couple steps inside before taking off his shoes. The two of you go to the kitchen, and Taehyun sets down the grocery bag on the counter.

“Do you want to bake the cake now or later?” He asks.

You take a moment to think and then say, “Let’s do it now.”

---

A chocolatey scent spread throughout the house as the two of you prepared the ingredients for the cake. You were in charge of mixing, and Taehyun was in charge of measuring. While you were mixing the wet ingredients, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Huh?" You look over your shoulder to see Taehyun holding a bowl of dry ingredients.

He taps your nose and smiles, "I've got all of the dry stuff measured out. I'll slowly add it in while you mix."

You nod your head and turn back to face the bowl. Once he added all of the dry ingredients, the batter actually looked like batter. After a while, you decided that you were done mixing and walk over to Taehyun with the bowl.

"Is this good enough?" You say as you present the bowl to him.

He stops buttering the cake pan and looks up. "Perfect, as always. You can add it in."

He takes the bowl out of your hands and raises it above the pan. You take a spatula and slowly push the batter into the pan.

"You know, you look so cute when you're concentrating on something," he says.

Your face flushes as you take in the compliment, and he laughs at his ability to make you turn red. He always compliments you, but each time it feels like 1000 butterflies appear in your stomach.

"shut up..." you say as you look away.

As his laughter calms down, he says, "Babe, you need to look at where the batter is going still!"

You finish pushing the batter into the pan and set the bowl down to level the batter with the spatula. Taehyun taps the pan onto the counter a couple times and then puts it in the oven.

"And now we wait for 30 minutes," he says as he closes the oven door.

"What should we do in the meantime?" You ask.

"Hmmm.. I don't know... maybe... this?" He grabs your face and pulls it towards his, connecting the two.

"mmph!" Your hands raise in protest but stop halfway.

His hands rest on your waist and yours on his shoulders. The kiss lingers for quite a while until he breaks it off.

"We can't possibly kiss for the next 30 minutes," you say.

He smirks and says, "Oh, but I want to."

You put your hand on his chest to push him away, but it proves to be futile due to his strength. He manages to land a few more kisses until the sound of the oven alarm blares in your ears.

"Ugh, Just as I was about to get another one," Taehyun says while letting go of you.

You silently praise the alarm as you walk over to the oven to see the cake. It looks perfectly cooked, and you take a toothpick and stab it just to make sure it's edible. After verifying it was, Taehyun takes the pan and taps the cake out of it onto a plate. The two of you decorate the cake so that it looks like the birthday jelly cat.

"I think we did a pretty good job re-creating the jelly cat," he says while taking a step back.

You look at the cake and say, "I think so too."

Taehyun takes a candle and places it right in the middle of the cake. He picks up the cake and moves it to the dining table and motions you over.

"Come on, let's finally do your birthday wish," he says.

You make your way over to the seat closest to the cake. Taehyun dims the lights and starts to sing Happy Birthday to you.

"Now... make a wish!"

You blow the candle and close your eyes, wishing for the rest of your life to be with Taehyun. You slowly open your eyes and see Taehyun looking at you expectantly.

"What did you wish for, babe?" He asks.

"It's a secret," you respond while smiling.