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talkbykhalid · 1 year

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idiot in love. k.yeosang x f.reader 5.7k words (fluff + humour)

“I have an idea!”

“No.”

Yunho, who had just burst into the room with a bright smile on his lips, now stood by the doorway with a pout. His phone is held tightly in his hand and playing a video from what looks like tiktok. A chorus of cheers and gasps comes from the gadget’s speakers and you can’t help but to be intrigued.

“Don’t be rude, Yeosang.” San tosses a candy wrapper at the other’s face, telling him off for crushing the light behind Yunho’s eyes.

You sit on the pink reclining chair in the middle of the room and look up at your tall friend who had just arrived. Currently, you were waiting for the rest of your friends to get to your guys’ usual hang out spot. A comfy little pool house in the back of Seonghwa’s normal-sized and humble house, or that’s what he likes to call it (you’d rather skip the pleasantries and call it a mansion). It’s a decent sized pool house, as decently-sized as a mansion’s pool house can be, and it’s well decorated.

That’s a lie.

You know how there’s this big thing with the generation now with aesthetics and styles? Yeah, so if you’d gather all those and smush it into a snowball pile and then throw it against a wall, you’d get the pool house decor. It wasn’t bad! Mingi once said that this is what cluttercore is. And you don’t think that it’s ugly, it’s not the best interior design you’ve done but if you look at it at a certain angle and then tilt your head to the left, then sure, it looks pleasing to the eye!

Actually scratch that. This was all Jongho’s fault! Yeah for sure. He calls himself an interior design major yet he can barely even get this place in check. Yeah, that’s right. How about you shift majors, Jongho?

No… that’s a lie too. Because you know god damn well that Jongho’s no joke when it comes to designing. This mess of a house was collectively everyone’s fault. Why? Because everything in this god forsaken pool house was brought by none other than your group of hooligans.

Hongjoong had speakers stacked up in one corner along with a keyboard and a 2015 dubstep pad which you highly doubt still works. Beside his mess is another mess, this one is of dumbbells and resistance bands with a pull up bar station and foldable bench (which never gets folded) in between it all. This one was courtesy of your gym rat friends, i.e: San, Mingi, Yeosang and Jongho.

Jongho’s solo corner is most definitely the only aesthetically pleasing and neat area of the whole place. He had set up a little bean bag seat by the door so he could bask in the afternoon sunlight. And beside that was his little guitar stand and trusty acoustic guitar. You remember gifting it to him when he graduated high school; oh the memories of huddling together to gather all your saved up cash from your part time jobs.

Your corner? Well you didn’t exactly have one, per se. You had a habit of hovering around everyone else’s little respective corners and sticking your nose into their business, so you never really saw the need to have your own space. But you had a little pink reclining chair you thrifted in the middle of the room. It was beaten up and the leather was peeling in some spots but if you covered it with a blanket, then it’s out of sight and out of mind.

Anyway, back to the topic at hand.

You were sitting on your chair with your legs dangling off the arm rest and scrolling through twitter when your friend unceremoniously slams open the sliding glass door and holler about his brilliant idea. San was lying on the rug watching ants march by a cookie crumb and Yeosang was messing around with Hongjoong’s keyboard. Seonghwa was back inside looking for some snacks to share and everyone else was on their way to the pool house.

“What is it, Yun?” You turn to the man and place your phone down onto your chest.

“At least someone cares.” The tall blonde trudges to your side and plops down on the ground beside you. You watch as he shuffles around to get his bum comfortable on the concrete before he shows you his phone screen. Once he’s comfy enough, he leans his chin onto your tummy and starts talking about this one tiktok he saw.

“So I was scrolling through tiktok and there’s this one that has like thirty million views.”

San crawls up from his previous spot before kneeling beside your pink chair. His eyes are trained onto the people on the screen as he scurrys closer and leans his chin onto your shoulder. The newest addition to the scene connects eyes for a split second with the man on your stomach before he hums when the video replays again and it vibrates on your shoulder. But you’re not concerned, because your attention was on something else. Rather, someone else.

Yeosang stayed where he was, fingers mindlessly pressing key after key on Hongjoong’s keyboard while his other hand scrolled through his own tiktok. Is he not interested in what Yunho’s showing? Why isn’t he coming closer, you pout inwardly.

Listen. If you were in his situation and you heard people gasping, you’d have ran all the way to see what was going on. This is not to say that you want Yeosang to come running towards you at any chance he gets, it’s just… Okay you do want him to run towards you whenever the opportunity’s there.

But can you be blamed for having a simple crush on your friend? He is exceptionally beautiful, of course all your friends are beautiful but you just think he has that edge that puts him above everyone else (but don’t tell Wooyoung or else he’ll flip). His large russet irises that just glitter in the sunlight like cold brew on a sunny afternoon. His high cheekbones and the rich red birthmark that sits at his temple. And his voice! So deep with a timber that makes your heart rattle in your chest. Everything about him just had you captured.

“Keep the pda to a minimum please, we have a minor.”

Hongjoong scolds from the doorway, throwing a glance at the other side of the room where Yeosang sat all alone with his equipment. He stands proud on his feet with pottery clay stained sleeves and mismatched socks. No one really knows what Hongjoong does in his free time, but he always turns up with skin tainted in whatever and oftentimes a new hair colour. Behind him stood your other two friends, one bearing a scowl and the other freely giggling at Hongjoong’s words.

“I’m literally twenty one.” Jongho grumbles, unbuttoning the first couple of buttons of his tan cafe uniform dress shirt.

“I’m talking about Mingi.” Hongjoong directs a nod at the taller of the three who then yelps out a ‘hey!’.

You and your friends had this little inside joke that Mingi was actually five years old mentally. Not in the sense that he’s dumb (he’s actually the opposite), but rather because of his cute and clumsy nature. For a man of his height, you wouldn’t expect him to be the type of person who makes hand hearts in every photo and calls the colour pink ‘heart coloured’.

Moving forward, it’s not like skinship wasn’t a norm with your little gang of misfits, it was. Especially with the more cuddlier guys of the bunch, like Yunho and San. So, seeing them getting all cozied up with anyone isn’t all that surprising.

“Where’s Wooyoung?” You ask, genuinely curious of where the loud one was.

“He went to bother Seonghwa. Probably making those crappy western sandwiches with ham and potato chips.” Mingi responded, making his way to you and peeking at the screen in Yunho’s hand.

“That looks fun.”

“Wait, so how does this go again?” Jongho asks, sitting on the ground beside the tray of snacks Seonghwa had prepared. Wooyoung had sneaked in three of those crappy sandwiches that Mingi mentioned onto the tray, and they were all eaten by him too. The rest of you settled on the bowl of salted pretzels and kettle chips.

Yunho downs his can of beer before tossing it to the side (much to Seonghwa’s dismay) and beginning to explain again. He believes this is his eighty-eighth time explaining to the group because none of them are ever listening at the same time!

“So we all put our phones down in the middle and make sure they’re locked.” Yunho demonstrates by placing his phone on the floor with the screen pitch black and reflecting his face.

“And then we wait for one of them to light up. The person who owns that phone will then have to call their crush!”

Now everyone’s listening. Especially you, reclined on your chair and suddenly sweating. You can feel your fingers start to tremble and your heart beat quicker. Your eyes flicker to Hongjoong who gives you a wicked smile.

Hongjoong’s the only person who’s known about your… affectionate feelings for Yeosang. It’s rather an embarrassing story to recall. You were scrolling through your guys’ group chat and skimming across the recently sent pictures. You guys had just gone on a little beach trip in the middle of summer, yes how anime plot cliche of you, but who’s to judge? Anyway, you had stopped on a particular picture because it had caught your eye.

The sky was a rich blue and thin clouds had been strung out across it. The horizon sits beautifully between it and the clear blue sea that calmly breaches onto the hot sand. But who cares for that view when you have the perfect view of Kang Yeosang clad in only his swimming shorts, sitting on a beach towel with his hands planted behind him to lean his head back. His hair was dripping with the salty sea water that trickled down onto his skin and pooling in his deep collarbones.

You couldn’t stop staring. Not with the way his eyes had been shut and his lips hung open in a deep exhale. You were– as what the young ones say these days, quite gagged. The sight of his smooth skin with a light sheen of the sea and the sand that stuck onto his muscular thighs. Oh the things that ran through your mind…

You wouldn’t have stopped staring if it wasn’t for Hongjoong walking up from behind you and gawking at the picture opened on your screen. In full brightness. Zoomed in on Yeosang himself.

What’s worse than that was the way he reacted, but that’s a story for another day.

“I’m in!” San happily announces after Yunho explains, immediately fishing his phone out and placing it beside Yunho’s.

And soon, everyone had their phones out and ready to participate. Even you, although it does feel like you’re shitting your heart out of your ass. But what are the chances right? There are nine of you and there’s absolutely no way that your phone out of the nine lights up first. You had about an eleven point eleven percent possibility, so it couldn’t be you.

Yet, why were you so jittery? You know that your chances are low but why do you still feel like running out and diving to the pool by reason of insanity? God, what’s up with you right now?

“We have to film this.” Wooyoung interjects before the game starts.

Everyone now had their phones laying in a circle right beside the litre of sprite. And honestly, you were kind of anxious, seeing that your phone was the closest to the bottle and might possibly get wet from the perspiration that’s dripping down the green plastic. You had literally gotten that five months ago, had to bust your ass sitting dogs and begging on your knees in front of your parents…

“Idiot how are we gonna film if all our phones will be in the pile?” San delivers a soft smack to the back of the shorter’s head. And now that you think about it, Choi San has been quite violent today. Throwing stuff at people and smacking heads.

“Seonghwa has two phones.”

You hear Hongjoong call out from opposite of you. His voice was rather bitter, understandable. He, of course, has to live with his crappy little iPhone 6s plus until next month when he’s eligible for a new one from his plan (don’t ask why he hasn’t upgraded in the last– something, years). And his dear best friend Seonghwa is here with two of the latest iPhones tucked into each of his back pockets. But it all comes from a place of banter, though. You know how Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s dynamic is.

“I’ll get the tripod!” Jongho immediately jumps onto his feet and runs to Wooyoung’s little nook. The latter then complains at how Jongho teasingly scatters his stuff in search of the tripod that’s ‘literally right there!’

When everything’s all set up, everyone huddled on the floor, Seonghwa’s turquoise iPhone perched by the sliding doors, and phones readily on hand, Yunho begins his countdown.

“Okay guys, so we all know what to do, right?”

A chorus of ‘yes’ erupts from the team and a quiet ‘get on with it!’ sounds from Yeosang, who Yunho throws a pouty glare at.

“On the count of three, we’re all gonna lock our phones and then put them in the middle.”

One.

You have your phone in your hand and your fingers are trembling. You’re honestly so nervous because, fuck. The chances of you being the one chosen is high. Who in the world thinks that one in nine is a low possibility? Definitely not you! That eleven percent was one above ten percent. And in a situation like this? You think that a ten percent chance is still ten too many!

Two.

You think about backing out, again. Maybe you should smash your phone on the ground and go oops! No… Maybe you could pretend faint and fall face first into the bowl of pretzels. Yes! That sounds– fucking stupid. Come on brain! You yell inside your mind, Think! Think! Think!

Three!

Too late. Everyone’s now clicking their phones shut and you’re left no choice but to follow from the peer pressure. And soon everyone’s phones are back on the ground again. This time, you’re not that worried about the damn puddle of water on the fucking gray concrete. All your mind is racing about is the fact that your life is on the line (okay dramatic much?).

Your heart is pounding in your ears, and it’s all you can hear. Granted, everybody in the room had shut up in anticipation, but it just made the beating of your heart even louder. Your palms are growing clammy and you can feel beads of sweat forming on your hairline. It feels like millions of years have passed by now, but anyone can tell you otherwise. In fact, it hasn't even been five seconds since your phones were tossed into the ring.

With everyone’s eyes glued onto their own phones, you all waited. For whichever iPhone lights up first. The screens lined up together to perfectly mirror the way the pool water reflects the sunlight into the room. You try to distract yourself with the refracted light that dances on the ceiling, enjoying how they wiggle and float as a result of the pool right outside. It’s crazy how science works. But that distraction barely even lasts a moment before your eyes flicker onto a pair already staring at you. And as you stare into Hongjoong’s dark irises, you’re reminded of the fact that you’re waiting. For one phone to ping with a notification. Waiting.

Waiting.

Ping!

There it is. Finally you’re put out of your misery! Your eyes, along with everybody else's, fall onto the glowing screen. And you see the face of Suna Rintarou, Inarizaki High School’s Volleyball Team’s six foot one middle blocker. The same exact picture you have on your lockscreen. A text notification floats into view and it reads:

“Happy Birthday! This is Doja Cat, meow~. I am sending this message from my private number…”

That’s crazy, you think, who gets scam texts from Doja Cat? Haha… Oh.

Panic surges through your veins as it now registers that it was your phone that pinged. It was you who got the Doja Cat scam text. (It’s not even your birthday! Who sends this kind of stuff and how did they get your number?! What?) … And it’s you who has to call your crush right now.

At this point your heart has probably fallen out of your asshole, maybe even crashed through the crust of the earth. You can’t believe that this is happening to you right now. You had only a little over ten percent of a chance on your side yet the universe still pointed its grubby wrinkled finger at you. You’re convinced that you’re the main character of some stupid early afternoon sitcom titled ‘What are the odds?’ or something… Fuck, with a capital ‘F’!

Right after your phone had pinged on, Hongjoong’s crappy banged up iphone six followed suit with a notification from instagram. But it’s too late. Whoever just liked his post was twenty-three seconds too late. You were the chosen one.

The two of you make eye contact once more and his eyes now glitter with mischief. Not only was he saved by the grace of god, but he gets to watch you crumble into dust and debris like the ruins of Parthenon, again! Oh what a splendid day it was to be Hongjoong. What makes this situation even more satisfying (for Hongjoong and not you, oh dear god, especially not you) is what happened a couple days back. And the male who sits across from you can’t help but smile.

For context, it was a lovely Wednesday afternoon. You were lying on Hongjoong’s kitchen counter whining and moping about being single, as per usual. And your friend sits on the newspaper covered floor, painting his cabinets blue. Not even the usual calming sky blue that shows up naturally, no; he is painting his kitchen cabinets an awful shade of neon blue. One that blinds you and leaves a lasting orange mark behind your eyelids when you close your eyes.

“Is this about Yeosang, again?” He had asked you without even looking away from his brush strokes.

You felt your face heat up at the mention of him. You turned your head to look at the man with a pout, which he doesn’t even notice. Again, all his attention is on keeping paint from his precious bronze hinges.

“Maybe…” You responded after a few moments of silence. “And why aren’t you using a big brush like any normal person?”

Hongjoong murmured something along the lines of ‘mind your business’ and then told you to carry on your rambling. So you do.

“I don’t know! It’s just that… I’ve been silent about my feelings for so long and this is my first time talking about them to anyone, so I’m dumping out a lot of emotions here.”

“Aren’t you glad I found out, then?”

“Fuck you.” You scowled at Hongjoong’s teasing tone pertaining to how he found out. You hate him.

“Like there’s something about him that’s just so charming!” You continued when he gave you no response. “When I first met him he was shy and quiet and so it was like whiplash because his best friend is apparently Wooyoung? I can’t be the only one who was surprised at that. But then… then he started opening up to us and then my perception of him just tumbled from there…”

Hongjoong placed his paintbrush on the floor, soaking the newspaper in blue paint and his focus had moved onto you. The way you talked so nonchalantly, like your feelings for Yeosang were something so familiar to you. The way you absentmindedly wiggled your fingers every time you giggle at a memory of a certain blonde. It was so obvious that your feelings for the man were much stronger than what Hongjoong first sought it out to be.

“He’s just so funny in his own little way. He doesn’t even have to try! Like that one time he was frying an egg and he tried to flip it but then–” You bursted out laughing at the memory. Hongjoong remembered too, the clueless expression Yeosang had after dropping the sunny side up egg on the ground was just hilarious.

“I don’t know why I like him so much. We’re not the closest of the group– I don’t think I’ve even spent an hour just him and me alone! So it doesn’t make sense to me how I started liking him. I don’t know anything about him that you don’t, and vice versa. It just happened suddenly and now I have uncontrollable feelings for my friend. It’s like fucking cupid just punched me in the gut and went ‘hehe you have feelings now’!”

By now you had your face down on the countertop, muffling your cries onto the cold surface.

“And it’s so frustrating because he has the qualities to be the perfect crush! He’s handsome, funny and kind, but I know that’s not why I like him. Maybe it adds up to why, but it’s not entirely true. I think it’s because he has this aura around him that just had me hooked. It’s like his own angel halo, he’s just so– so… benign!”

“Benign?” Hongjoong finally spoke, he has never met anyone use the word ‘benign’ to describe anyone. Especially you! He did not expect you to pull out uncommon words for this. No hate, he loves you kiss kiss, but you’re the type of person to slap someone in the face and call it flirting. Describing someone as benign was not up your alley.

“Why don’t you just ask him out then?” He asked you the most obvious question ever.

“What if he rejects me?” And you responded with the most obvious answer ever.

“You’ll never know unless you shoot your shot.” Hongjoong picked up his paintbrush and went back to painting his cabinets such an atrocious colour.

You gave him a cocky laugh in response. Pfft– confess? You? It was like telling an elephant to bungee jump, that’ll never happen!

“But! If I don’t shoot, then I’ll never miss.”

Were your infamous last words, Hongjoong remembers so well. So maybe that’s what makes this entire thing so interesting.

Hongjoong watches you with hawk-like eyes, reading your heart off from your sleeves. Your eyes meet for a quick second before your eyes flit back onto the phone in front of you. The room erupts in hollers and hoots and Hongjoong can’t help but let his eyes drift off to the male who sat two persons to his left.

Yeosang’s face was undecipherable, that’s all one could say. His eyebrows were raised in the slightest bit as a sign of intrigue. The corners of his lips were neither turned up nor down; they were just neutral. The only telltale sign of interest he’s showing is the upturn of his head as he tries to get a better look at your glowing phone screen. But other than that, you might say he looks indifferent.

But that’s not what Hongjoong sees. Oh no, the older male has his eyes on Yeosang’s closed fists. Watching as they ever so slightly clench when you shakily reach for the gadget. And Hongjoong’s mind is set. He knows now.

“This is rigged!” You cry with your phone heavy in your hands.

“How?!” Wooyoung screeches from beside you.

“You rigged it!” You point an accusatory finger at Yunho who flinches and gives you his sweetest most clueless puppy dog eyes. That devil.

“You came here with this idea! This was planned from the start! I am a victim!” You cry, voice getting more deranged as each word flies past your lips.

And it’s funny, yes, everyone’s glad it’s getting captured by Seonghwa’s phone. But what will be even more fun is when you actually get to the fucking plot of this and call your crush!

“Just call whoever you have to call, y/n!” Jongho says firmly after his own laughing fit. Scary how strict the younger generation is nowadays.

“Do I have to?” You resort to pleading. “Can’t we just go again?”

They all give you one final stern glare before you finally give up and unlock your phone. With each tap you do, your breathing gets even more shallow. Oh it’s bad for you.

Everyone has their eyes on you, some curious, some teasing, and you just want to die. Dig a hole and die. Eat concrete and die. Roll in barbed wire and die. Anything! Literally anything would be better than you embarrassing yourself.

So you find the contact and press call. A ring comes from your speakers and it goes silent for a moment. Everybody is on their toes, giggling to themselves and feeling giddy over something that doesn’t even involve them. But can you blame them? They’re all so nosy and always want to be in each others’ business.

The next ring that blares into the room comes from the circle of phones on the floor. A light blue iphone vibrates and flashes, catching everyone’s attention. You’ve pressed your face into your palms, refusing to look at anyone as embarrassment spreads like wildfire on your skin. Just like before, the room has fallen silent again, minus the constant ringing of the still unanswered call.

Yeosang stares, mouth agape and eyes wide. That’s his phone. There’s no mistaking it. And only he has his notifications set to LED flash which he first did because it annoys Wooyoung. He doesn’t exactly need it, per se, but at this point he’s had his phone set to LED flash for years now that he’d feel empty without it. Back to the scene at hand, Yeosang’s still staring at the call screen.

Everyone was at a loss for words. For multiple reasons, the first one being you having a crush on Yeosang. Wooyoung, at first was about to wail about you not choosing him instead, because obviously he is the better choice (his words). But that soon went over his shoulder when he glanced at the phone on the floor. The second, and more appalling reason to everyone’s disbelief, is that the object of your desires does not even have your number saved.

“You don’t even have her number saved?!” Wooyoung suddenly breaks the silence and it makes you snap your head up.

What…? You’re taking blow after blow today, a match with Manny Pacquiao would have had less punches to the gut. Triple Whammy! Or whatever you call it.

“Wow… You’re really…” San speaks up from beside you. “Really, you’re something else.”

The phones finally stop ringing and you hear an automated voice come from your end of the call. You could hardly look in Yeosang’s direction right now, because, face it, him not saving your number? That’s a large blaring neon sign of unrequited affection. And you’re too wrapped up in your own emotions, still frozen in shock, that you don’t notice Yeosang frantically shaking his head and hurriedly blurting out about how it’s a misunderstanding.

“It’s not just, y/n! I don’t have anyone’s numbers saved…” And his voice trails off when realizes that he just made things worse. That does not sound reassuring at all.

“Bro?!” Wooyoung snatches Yeosang’s phone from the floor and holds it up briefly to his best friend’s face to unlock it. The dark haired male finds his contacts list and it’s true. So far all he can see saved are his family’s numbers. Heartbreaking really, because after all they’ve been through?

“Eight years! We’ve known each other for eight years, Yeosang. And you don’t have my number saved?!” Wooyoung’s hysterical, which is somewhat funny. He’s an inch away from mauling his best friend like a bear and Yunho’s tasked with holding him back by the collar considering he’s sat beside the feral man.

But there’s nothing for you to smile about, it seems like the group had momentarily forgotten about what happened a mere minute earlier. Which, thank god, you don’t want to dwell on that forever. But you are craving a little bit of attention right now, preferably from someone who’ll comfort you or some shit. You don’t know! It’s confusing.

Seonghwa notices the way your fingers pick and pull at the strings of your distressed jeans and he decides he should at least get you out of the room. He spots the empty bowl of pretzels and uses this as an excuse.

“I’m gonna go get more pretzels. Wanna come, y/n?”

You jolt at the mention of your name and you look up to see Seonghwa holding a hand out to you. Which, after you catch on to what his intentions are, you gratefully accept. Now on your feet, you grab the empty bowl and throw a quick smile at the squabbling group of idiots before making your way out. Missing the way a pair of panicked eyes trail after your figure.

Once in the kitchen, you sigh and plant your hands on the pristine countertops. Actually, last time you were here, Seonghwa’s countertops were steel gray granite. How come the slab in front of you was now a snowy marble. When did his mom even renovate the kitchen?

“Hey, Hwa.” You start when you hear footsteps join you in the kitchen. “When did you get your countertops changed…”

Yeosang is who greeted you when you turned your head. Not Seonghwa.

And then everything’s quiet. Where was Seonghwa? You have no idea. Was he the one who set this up? You’re not sure, but you think so. Will you absolutely abolish him when you get him? Absolutely.

You don’t know how long you both stand there stupidly staring at each other, but you assume it’s a really long time. You counted about seven bird chirps from outside and approximately three cars had honked as they passed by the road. You think you can see the sunlight moving, or maybe you’ve absolutely lost it. Matter of fact! Maybe that’s not even Yeosang in front of you. Maybe that’s just another one of your crazy hallucinations, that sounds about right. Real.

Yes, there is no Yeosang in the room.

“So…”

It talks?!

The man in front of you starts and you’re startled out of your thoughts. Oh sweet cheese… That’s the real thing. That’s the real human Yeosang… oh great heavens…

“Uhm…” He scratches the back of his neck and sucks a breath through his teeth.

That is a telltale sign of discomfort, you conclude, the psychology major part in your brain puts on her lab coat and pushes up her jacket. Hand on the back of the neck? Head tilted? Avoiding eye contact? Yep, he absolutely despises you. He wants to grab you by the ankles and throw you onto Seonghwa’s incredibly large front lawn like a shot put. Miss Trunchbull style.

Only, you’re studying architecture.

“This is awkward.” Yeosang speaks again.

“I’ll get the pretzels.” You turn your back and try to find a bag of pretzels, when you know that they’re in the pantry. And the pantry is right behind Yeosang so that means that to get to the pantry you’d have to walk past Yeosang. And you’d rather not get within shot put throwing distance of Yeosang right now! Maybe, you can take an alternate route over the kitchen island and then take the stairs up to the balcony and then jump off into the pool and then walk back in to grab the pretzels.

Yes. Wonderful.

But, right when you’re about to jump over the marble, Yeosang’s voice pierces through the room.

“We should go get coffee sometime.”

And now you’re rooted in your spot. Because did Yeosang just ask you out or did you just bang your head on the counter in an attempt to run away?

“I mean like… If you want to!” Panic rises in Yeosang’s eyes because, from his perspective, you’ve been silent this whole time. You even tried to avoid the topic entirely. But, I guess he wouldn’t blame you after the whole thing in the pool house.

He’s been freaking out since the phone call. First of all, he fully expected San’s or Yunho’s phones to ring because you’re always cuddling with them. Maybe even Hongjoong, you go over to his place often and have a lot of inside jokes and secrets with each other. Who’s to say that you two weren’t secretly harbouring feelings for each other. But, that’s not to say he’s unhappy that you called him. He was just pleasantly surprised.

He’s not complaining, he thinks you’re cute and he loves your personality. If anything, he’d love to get to know you more, maybe spend some time away from the hooligans you call friends. They always did hog you whenever you hung out. Never gave him the chance to talk with you one on one. Maybe this is his chance?

So, when Seonghwa offered to pull you out of the scene, he decided to take his place. A quick ‘I’ll go’ whispered as he passed by the older male. His palms were leaking by the time he got in the kitchen, standing nervously and bashfully scratching his neck. He genuinely didn’t know what to say. Where should he even start?

So when he blurts out an invitation to go out, he feels his heart fall into the depths of the abyss. He didn’t mean to say that! He should have de-escalated the situation first, fuck! Now you’re standing there in the kitchen looking at him like he was stupid. He is.

“If you don’t want to then it’s okay.”

And you just stand there staring, for another good three minutes.

“Sure.” You finally whisper, eyes wide and dumbfounded, but Yeosang heard it. And it made his heart swell. Sure.

If idiot in love was the phrase, you were the picture.

note: not proofread and it's kinda rushed. ive had this prompt im my drafts for about a year now and i just wanted to let it out.

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #kang yeosang #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang x reader

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