LOVED EVERY SECOND OF THIS!!!

i love him sm (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵). just want to put him in my pocket and carry him around (*´꒳`*)///

ℍ𝕖𝕤 𝕤𝕠 𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖 【≽^•⩊•^≼】

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━━ DON'T DATE MY BROTHER ✦ MASTERLIST

PAIRING. idol! nishimura riki x sister's best friend! reader(reader uses she/they pronouns)

SYNOPSIS. Being Park Jimin's younger sister comes with pros and cons. Cons, Park Y/N will never experience a true day of peace in her life. Pros, they were able to became friend's with other idol's sisters, and even though they became friends because of their brothers, they stayed friends because they all fit together, like pieces of a puzzle. Only thing? Don't fall for anyone's brother. Easy enough, until Y/N exposes her two year crush on Nishimura Konon's brother, Nishimura Riki. Not just to Konon though, half the world.

GENRE. idol x non idol, best friend's brother, idol's sibling, social media au

WARNINGS. strong language, drama, sexual jokes/references, idol au, mentions of mental health, fighting, idol beef, homosexuality, over protective brothers and sisters, this is not in anyway an accurate representation of idols or their family. jimin is kinda a asshole for a major part of this fic

FEATURING. enhypen, park jimin, jeon jungkook, and kim taehyung of bts, bahng hannah, lee olivia, chwe sofia , nishimura konon, huening lea, huening bahiyyih of kep1er, aisha samba(oc) jeon jaemin(oc), other idols mentioned in passing.

STATUS. ONGOING.

NOTES. this in no way shape or form is an accurate representation of the idols or others in the smau. chapter names are subjected to change! this was such a fun idea and i really wanted to post it so yay!!

PROFILES. friends by choice, sisters by association .

CHAPTERS. EXTENDED SYNOPSIS.

1. GOLDFISH YOONGI IS ALIVE

2. jimin is just really busy.

3. drumroll y/n

4. kim taehyung is more of a brother then you are right now.(happy thanks for adopting me day.)

5. close one(why the fuck do you hate me when you're all i have now?)

6. my dad >>>>

7. fuck you jimin.

8. please forgive me

9. starry-eyed y/n

10. good thing the only thing we share is a last name.(do that make me a bad person?)

11. i wanna do better(you didn’t wanna hurt me?)

TAGLISTS. ddmb taglist. @a-era @ijustmetyouandthisiscrazy @oddeonu @bigtoewinwin @szniki @meiiiwa @doggolovesblog @artstaeh @nomniki @tzyuki @lcv3lies @nikilvr @wonieleles @seosracha @ivyxily @zeesondiary @lunaflvms @alderiasamantha @ethereallov3 @afiaaaa19 @lil-iva perm taglist. @jangwonie @strwberrydinosaur @luv4vernon

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giggling kicking my feet 🤭

the 24-hour dating challenge

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genres: fluff, crack, mutual pining, suggestive, best friends to lovers, influencer au

wc: 8145

warnings: profanity, hoon is a loser and down bad sawry, you can’t see the mutual pining but that’s a skill issue on my part bc i swear it’s there, fic is completely from sunghoon’s pov, this was supposed to be short and sweet but it got kinda spicy towards the end LMAOAO but nothing happens so dw!!

summary: being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.

moodboard: one ☆ two

note: omg i didn’t think i would struggle w this oneshot but i lowkey did w the last part ☹️ i think it’s bc it has been a while since i raw dogged a fic HAHDHS anyway i hope the end doesn’t seem super abrupt and y’all enjoy! i would love to hear your thoughts + feedback :’)

inspiration: evelyn and fred (♡)

masterlist

“Your followers want me to do what?” 

Sunghoon was positive he’d misheard you. However, part of him hoped you’d confirm the life-altering information you’d casually uttered without even bothering to look away from the TV screen.

“Hoon!” you exclaimed, your fingers aggressively moving about the gaming console. “Oh, my God, they’re coming after me! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK—” you screeched— “Nonononono I can’t take them by myself! You testicle-guzzling cocksucker, why did you die when I needed you the most?!” 

Sunghoon watched you struggle warily. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety and your eyes were bulging out of their sockets. He wasn’t entirely sure you were breathing. Beads of sweat were clinging to your forehead, and your face was scrunched up in a weird, constipated expression. 

There was a good chance you’d utter fouler insults if he disturbed you while playing, but he couldn’t stop himself from broaching the subject. “Are we just going to pretend you didn’t say the thing you just said?” 

“The thing about you being a testicle-guzzling cocksucker?” you gritted. “No.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The thing about your followers wanting us to date for a video.” 

For a few moments, you didn’t deign to acknowledge him. Then, as if a switch inside you had flipped, you pulled the TV’s plug and turned to face him. “Would it be weird?” 

Wow. Okay, Sunghoon mused. I think it would be a fantastic idea and a dream come true, but I don’t trust myself around you. Even as a mere friend.  

However, instead of voicing his thoughts, the boy simply shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve been friends for several years now. I’m a regular on your YouTube channel and I think your fans are aware of the dynamics of our relationship. What do they mean when they say they want us to date? Physical intimacy aside, we already do everything couples do.” 

“I think they want us to be romantic,” you admitted. “Go on a date, hold hands, cross some lines.”

“Cross some lines?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip curling in a smirk. “Is this you speaking or your subscribers?”

Groaning in exasperation, you shoved his shoulder. He fell back on the couch, laughing. “Shut up, dickface! You know I’ve been swamped this semester. My influencer gig has been seriously lacking. I need to step up—do what they want me to do. Besides, we only have to be girlfriend and boyfriend for 24 hours. It’s really not that big a deal. Are you in or not?”

Sunghoon took a few seconds to mull over your words. Sure, he would love to be your boyfriend for 24 hours. As long as his fantasies were brought to reality, he didn’t care if the whole relationship was fake and short-lived. 

For far too long, he’d pined after you. He thought he was doing an excellent job at hiding his feelings, but then you decided to make vlogs for fun. That’s when shit actually went downhill. 

Within a few years, you’d amassed a following of over 5 million on YouTube and 3 million on Instagram. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you’d become somewhat of a local celebrity.  

Being one of your closest friends, Sunghoon was often featured in your videos. Initially, he’d baulked at the idea of being filmed, but you’d worked your magic on him. The boy soon found himself being comfortable around cameras. 

Even though Sunghoon never started his own YouTube channel, his popularity grew along with yours. His Instagram had garnered over two million followers, and courtesy of his good looks and attractive physique, he’d been offered a bunch of brand deals too.

You’d scowled at how far Sunghoon’s pretty privilege had gotten him. While you busted your ass coming up with unique ideas and editing your videos to perfection, all he needed to do was show up. 

What you didn’t know, though, was that part of the reason he’d become a heartthrob among the youth was you. 

You might have been dumb and blind, but your followers certainly were not. They’d realised how Sunghoon looked at you—his eyes always twinkled and a fond smile automatically adorned his lips whenever he caught sight of you. 

To add to that, your fans had pointed out habits he didn’t even know he possessed. For example: idly braiding your strands; bringing you snacks whenever he swung by your apartment; saying hey, sunshine and giving you a side hug by way of greeting; disguising his compliments as insults. 

The list was embarrassingly long.

They’d noticed the elastic he kept around his wrist at all times too—it was one of the two you’d used to tie his hair into little ponytails because you were convinced you could transform him into Boo from Monsters, Inc.   

Sunghoon himself had forgotten the reason he wore the elastic around his wrist. All he knew was that it was yours and it felt right. But when he read the comments obsessing about it, he rushed to watch the video your fans were referring to. 

And damn, they were right. 

Sunghoon didn’t know if you’d seen the comments your fans regularly left on your various social media pages. You’d never mentioned anything about the community calling you “couple goals,” and he was too much of a coward to inquire if you were aware. 

It was infuriating to know how transparent he was. Sunghoon wished he’d never gotten used to the camera and let slip his true self. 

Perhaps this was the cost of gaining the boyfriend material label—his unrequited feelings exposed for the entire world to see. 

Sunghoon would never admit it, but he’d spent the better part of a day reporting everyone who’d shipped him with you. The entire incident had truly made him go off the rails. 

However, today’s revelation was unexpected. It was an opportunity. A chance to experience something he’d desired for many years. Suddenly, he found himself thanking those busybodies online instead of cussing them out for being ridiculously invested in his love life.

Sunghoon knew saying yes to your proposition would bite him in the ass later on. He knew he’d crave more of you once he got a taste of being your boyfriend, and giving this fake relationship a shot would definitely make it harder for him to get over you in the future. He knew he was a massive idiot for willingly indulging in impending heartbreak, but he could always cross that bridge when he came to it.  

“Okay,” he said, meeting your gaze. “I’m in.”

There was a small chance Sunghoon was getting ahead of himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken it upon himself to organise the perfect date. 

Being bitchless his entire life wasn’t doing him any favours in performing the task. Originally, he’d figured he would do a quick Google search and plan a day according to the results shown.

Unfortunately, most activities on the list were things the two of you already did on a normal basis. He’d racked his brain to think of a unique idea after scrolling through the internet for hours on end and coming up empty-handed. 

Karaoke? Check. Restaurant hopping? Psh, you did that every weekend. Rock climbing? He was scared of heights. Bowling? Boring. Concert? None of your favourite artists were in town. Clubbing? He would rather spend quality time with you than get both of you wasted. Arcade? Basic and low-budget; he didn’t want to be cheap. Road-trip? Needed more than just 24 hours.

Sunghoon wondered if he was the problem. He’d shot down every option he’d come across so far by classifying it as not good enough. His stress levels were skyrocketing trying to make your 24-hour relationship perfect.

An entire day’s research had ended up being fruitless. You’d decided to go through with the challenge on Sunday, so he only had tomorrow to come up with something satisfactory. 

Sighing, Sunghoon rubbed his eyes and closed his laptop. He eyed his phone on the bedside table for a few seconds, contemplating whether he should just call you and ask if you had anything in mind. 

Before he could rethink his choice, he picked up the device and dialled you. 

“Hey.” Your voice on the other end was deep and hoarse. A glance at the wall clock informed Sunghoon it was past midnight, and he’d likely woken you up. Guilt twisted his stomach. “Is something wrong?”

“Sorry, I didn’t realise it was late,” he mumbled. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Nah, it’s alright. I was watching a movie and passed out halfway through it. I needed to finish it anyway.” 

Lying back on his bed, Sunghoon inquired, “Ready or not?”

“Yeah.” You huffed a laugh. “I finally got around to seeing it. Your choice, as always, is impeccable.” 

Though you couldn’t see him, he raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say you dozed off in the middle of it?” 

“Well, yeah, but that’s because I’m not a stupid nocturnal with no care for their sleep cycle and health.” 

“Ouch.” Sunghoon clutched his chest. He could practically hear you roll your eyes. “No need to be so harsh.”

You hummed absent-mindedly, a yawn escaping your lips. “Was there a reason you hit me up, or can I get back to the movie?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Do you have any suggestions for the challenge? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I haven’t come up with anything interesting.” 

“Not really. I tried researching a bit, and there isn’t much we don’t already do. I’m starting to wonder if the only difference between a platonic and romantic relationship is physical intimacy. I’m sure we can reach a consensus though,” you added.  

Sunghoon groaned. “This is proving to be more difficult than I—”

“WAIT!” you interrupted him with an exclaim. “How about a picnic date? We’ve been talking about going on one with the rest of our friends for ages, but it’s never worked out. Let’s go—just the two of us. We can choose outfits for each other too! I’ll order you something online, and you do the same for me. We can spend the rest of our day doing whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Right?” you giggled. “Maybe we can spread a blanket in the park under a tree and have a nice brunch. I’ll organise it!”

“I’ll take care of dinner and plan another activity for us to do between the two meals.” He grinned. “Looks like we might actually be able to pull this off, Y/N.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to film a video,” you admitted.

Sunghoon’s heart fluttered, and his lips widened into a smile. “Me too.”

Everything was set. You’d received the dress Sunghoon had ordered for you, and he’d taken delivery of the one you’d bought for him.

Upon opening the package, Sunghoon was surprised to see you’d accidentally ended up matching outfits. While he’d chosen a white summer dress with blue flowers for you, you’d picked out a white graphic tee and low-rise, faded blue, baggy jeans for him. 

The fit was minimal—something that he would have purchased if he’d seen it in a mall. 

Grabbing a pair of sunglasses and running a hand through his messy hair, Sunghoon made a beeline for his car. He shot you a quick text regarding his ETA before backing the vehicle out of his driveway.

[hoon]: omw be there in 10

[y/n]: okie i’ll wait for u. call me when ur outside!!!!!!!!!

Averting his gaze to the road again, Sunghoon took a deep breath. He’d finally planned the perfect day out. It took a lot of effort and coordination on his part, but the several favours he had to call in were worth it. 

He’d probably gone over the top, especially considering the fact that this wasn’t even real, but he was determined not to half-ass anything. He had one chance, and he’d damn well make sure he didn’t waste it.

Turning the corner of your house, Sunghoon dialled your number. “I’m here.” 

“Coming,” you popped, the sound of your footsteps descending the stairs audible through the call. 

He grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the backseat, got rid of his sunglasses and exited the car. Your door opened a few seconds later, and Sunghoon’s world slipped from under his feet. 

God, you were beautiful. So beautiful and so fucking pretty in the dress he’d chosen for you. The material fit you perfectly—it accentuated your upper body and was flowy from your lower waist. The dress was almost ankle-length with a side slit that began at your upper thigh. Your shoulders and collar bones were exposed, a gold pendant filling the empty space the deep square neckline left in its wake. 

Your left shoulder was carrying a tote bag, and your right hand was holding a large picnic basket. Much to Sunghoon’s surprise, your free hand was wrapped around a bouquet too. 

Snapping himself out of his reverie, he took the basket from you and placed it inside the car. “You look amazing, sunshine,” he breathed. “Just—wow.”

Giggling, you did a little twirl for him. “Thanks! I love what you’ve done with your hair. It makes you more attractive.”

Sunghoon mock-saluted and bowed dramatically, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Took me ten minutes to style it.” Glancing at the flowers in your hand, he asked, “You got me flowers?” 

Maybe his eyesight was faulty, but Sunghoon felt your entire demeanour suddenly change. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you averted your gaze from his and shyly mumbled, “You took it upon yourself to plan the majority of the day. The least I could do was gift you some flowers.” 

Right when Sunghoon thought he couldn’t love you any more than he already did, you went ahead and did this. He’d never received flowers in his life before, and the gesture meant everything to him. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took the bouquet from you. “Thank you,” he said, voice heavy with gratitude. “Don’t kill me, but I don’t know the name of these flowers.” 

Laughing, you pinched his cheek. “They’re asters.” 

“What do they mean?” 

“Why don’t you search it up when you go home?” you quipped. “Let me know once you find out.”  

Sunghoon shrugged and handed you the flowers he’d bought for you. “Sunflowers for my sunshine.” 

A wide grin broke across your lips. “They’re my favourite!” 

“I know, dummy,” he said, flicking your forehead and opening the passenger’s door for you. “That’s why I got them for you.” 

“Be nice!” you complained as he walked around the car. Taking a seat beside you, he started the engine and began driving. “I’m your girlfriend!” 

“I just opened the door for you,” Sunghoon pointed out, promptly ignoring the way his heart rate picked up. “I think I’m being gentlemanly enough.” 

“That’s not a word.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“This is why you get no bitches.”

“I got you.”

“Are you calling me a bitch?”

“I’m calling you mine.”

Snorting, you said, “Not your best save, Park.” 

Biting down the smile threatening to break across his lips, Sunghoon said, “I’ll survive, but you should really start recording.” 

“Right,” you gasped, your eyes widening. Fetching the DSLR from your tote bag and switching it on, you placed it on the dashboard carefully. After ensuring that the camera was rolling, you began, “I’m in the car with Sunghoon right now. He just picked me up, but I lowkey forgot to record it.”

“Y/N was too busy gawking at me,” Sunghoon teased and raised an eyebrow at the lens. “I’m too attractive for my own good.” 

“Nobody’s buying your bullshit.” You rolled your eyes. “But if you do think he looks cute, it’s because I chose his outfit.” 

“And if you think she looks beautiful, that’s because I chose her outfit.” 

You nodded. “He did. We thought kicking off the challenge this way would be cool. Clothes were ordered by both of us individually, which means neither of us had any idea what had been chosen by the other until we met ten minutes ago. Crazy how we still ended up matching.”

“We exchanged flowers too. Y/N got me asters, and I got her sunflowers.” 

“Hoon has no idea what asters signify,” you commented and nudged him with your elbow. “He didn’t even know the flowers I gifted him were asters.”

“Don’t shame me for not being a nerd!” Sunghoon defended himself. “Only you can be the kind of person who reads The Language of Flowers and indulges in floriography because they’re bored.” 

 “Aaaand the worst boyfriend award goes to this guy sitting right next to me,” you announced, shooting him a nasty glare. “He’s been annoying me from the moment he came to pick me up.”

“I opened the door for you!”

“How long are you going to milk the one gentlemanly thing you did?” 

Sunghoon scoffed in disbelief. “I thought gentlemanly wasn’t a word.”

“I lied,” you popped and grinned cheekily. 

“The problem with this relationship is you, woman, not me.”

Laughing, you turned to the camera again. “We’re going on multiple dates today. I’ve organised a picnic brunch, and Hoon has organised dinner.”

“It’s a surprise,” Sunghoon explained. “But I can assure you that it’s going to be the coolest thing ever.”

You hummed in agreement. “I believe him. He always gives the best surprises. Anyway, I’m going to stop recording now, and I’ll see you guys once we reach the park. I think we’re almost there.” 

“Five minutes,” Sunghoon provided. 

You grabbed the DSLR and brought it close to your face. Cupping your hand over the lens as if you were telling it a secret, you whispered, “T-minus five minutes to the best picnic date ever. Bye!”

Despite it being June and most kids being on vacation, the park wasn’t crowded. 

Even though it was almost 10:30 and the sun was merciless, there were plenty of people jogging on the track. Sunghoon spotted a laughter club in session a few hundred metres away from where you’d laid your blanket under the tree.

Thanks to the clear sky and blowing wind, more than a few people had taken out their own picnic baskets and decided to enjoy the weather. A bunch of middle-schoolers were playing basketball about fifty metres away from your tree, and though Sunghoon would have appreciated the peace, it was fun to watch them run around on the court. 

You’d set up the camera immediately upon arrival. Even though it was still rolling, neither of you were aware of it. It lay forgotten to the side, and as far as Sunghoon was concerned, it was just the two of you.

“It’s a beautiful day,” you mumbled, gathering your strands and tying them up in a messy bun. “Really fucking hot though.” 

“You have some relief, at least,” Sunghoon said, pointing at your exposed shoulders and flowing dress. “I’m fully covered and positively dying in here.” 

You smiled sheepishly. “Oops. That’s my bad.” 

Laughing, Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair. “What did you get for us to eat in that basket of yours?” he asked. “It was pretty heavy.” 

“Nothing much,” you answered and dragged the basket closer to you. Opening the lid, you pulled out Tupperware containing watermelons, muskmelons and mango slices. You’d also prepared a heart-shaped pizza and baked half a dozen macarons. Finally, you fetched a bottle filled with peach-iced tea and a pair of champagne glasses. 

Sunghoon gaped at the assortment of food you’d arranged. “Did you make everything by yourself?” 

“I wish,” you snorted. “Mom made the macarons and delivered them via FedEx. I don’t have the patience to bake.”

“Okay, but this is still crazy,” Sunghoon said, amazement evident in his tone. “The amount of effort you’ve put in is insane.” 

Blushing, you shoved his shoulder. “Stop! You’re embarrassing me!”

“I’m complimenting you!” he exclaimed, and served himself a piece of the pizza. “Bringing homemade food is the best thing you could’ve done. And God, this is delicious. I’m going to wife you right now.” 

You laughed incredulously. “Slow down, Romeo. We just started dating. How about you show me a good time first?” 

This. This was exactly the reason why Sunghoon didn’t entirely hate being stuck in the friend zone. Because no matter how much you told people you were just friends and there was nothing going on between the two of you, you were constantly flirting. 

The only reason he was afraid of confessing his feelings was that he didn’t know much of the flirting was real. It was the dynamic of your friendship—neither of you thought it was weird making suggestive comments. You were too comfortable with each other to let such things bother you. 

Sunghoon could no longer tell whether your relationship was still platonic. He was too hopelessly in love with you to keep knowing the difference between a joke and genuineness. His heart surged every time you said something only a romantic partner would, and his heart shattered every time he reminded himself that you didn’t actually mean it. 

You never meant it. 

But Sunghoon was a selfish person. He was going to take what he could get. He would rather be unintentionally strung along than give these moments up. The minuscule part of him that hated you for the pain you were causing him was nothing compared to the part of him that loved you unconditionally. 

Forcing himself out of his reverie, Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you. “In front of everyone?”

“You’re so gross!” you snickered, your eyes shining with mischief. “I obviously mean when we get home!” 

I’m going to kill myself, Sunghoon thought. I’m going to kill myself before she kills me.   

The two of you had finished eating almost thirty minutes ago. Now, you were just lying on the blanket and staring at the sky, having conversations about the most random topics. 

You were talking shit about some know-it-all guy in your physics class, but Sunghoon wasn’t really paying any attention to what you were saying.

He was still stuck on what had happened an hour ago when you’d urged him to feed you because “that was what couples did.” 

Sunghoon didn’t give a shit what couples did. His biggest problem at the moment was his mind replaying the incident like a broken record. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d already known he was being an idiot by agreeing to come on this date, but he never thought he’d regret his decision this quickly.

“Are you okay?” 

Blinking, Sunghoon spared you a glance. “Peachy.” 

“Those kids over there are calling us,” you told him, pointing to the basketball court. “We should go see what they want.” 

Nodding, he pulled himself to his feet and gave you a hand. Leaving the DSLR under the tree wouldn’t have been safe, so you grabbed it and the two of you made your way to the children waiting for you. 

“Hey,” a perky boy greeted you enthusiastically. “I’m Hyun. We’ve been playing basketball for the past several hours. The team that wins 6 out of 11 matches has to treat the other team to ice cream. Unfortunately, 2 of our friends left, and now it’s just the 6 of us divided into 2 teams. We really don’t want to play half-court, but we can’t play full-court with a team of only 3 each. Do you guys want to play the last few matches with us? One match only lasts 15 minutes.” 

Sunghoon exchanged a look with you. Then, you glanced at your spot under the tree. Lastly, you checked out your outfit—the slit exposing most of your leg and the lack of coverage for your shoulders.

“I have a pair of shorts and a shirt in my car,” he informed you. 

You took a moment to weigh your options. Honestly, playing in the open when the sun was out to torture everyone didn’t sound appealing. There was also the issue of you needing to switch outfits, and you didn’t know if you wanted to take the effort of changing inside Sunghoon’s car. 

But kids had always been your weak spot and the little rascals were staring you down with their puppy eyes. 

You sighed. “Fine. We’re in.”

“I haven’t played in a while,” Sunghoon admitted. “I think it’s been over 6 months.” 

“I haven’t played since varsity girls either,” you said. The kids had left to take a break a few minutes ago and the court was empty save for the two of you.

You’d changed into his clothes, but the shirt was too long for you. So, you’d requested him to tie the extra into a knot at the back. Thankfully, the shorts could be tightened at the waist with lace. 

Sunghoon could get used to you wearing his wardrobe. 

He idly dribbled the ball the kids had given to him for safekeeping while you stretched your stiff muscles. “Then I guess we get to evaluate whose skills have become more rusty.”

“Free shots?” you asked, eyes alight with a competitive fire and a smirk tugging at your lips. “We can test our aim and get a feel of the baskets on this court. It would be a good warm-up exercise.”  

Sunghoon poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Bring your camera here. Record me from up close. I’m going to go for a layup.”

“Wow,” you scoffed but did as you were told nonetheless. Before stepping onto the court, you’d filmed Sunghoon and yourself, explaining that you were about to play basketball with a bunch of kids. Naturally, you’d decided not to record the match in order to respect the privacy of the children. “Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? I’m telling you right now that I won’t care if you miss the shot. I will use it to humiliate you in the video.” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. 

You switched on the DSLR and pointed the lens at him. “We’re doing free shots till the kids come back from their break,” you said. “Hoon’s convinced he can land a layup even though he hasn’t touched a ball for several months.” 

“Don’t condescend me,” Sunghoon grumbled as he walked to the 3-pointer line. “It’s not like I’ve completely forgotten how to play. I’m pretty sure I can nail a simple shot.”

“We’ll see.”

“You know what,” he called. “I’m going to dedicate this layup to you so that when I make it, you’ll know not to doubt my athletic prowess.”

All you did was raise an eyebrow. 

“This one’s for you, babe!” Sunghoon announced and began running. The ball was a number 6—smaller than the size 7 he was used to. The grip was worn due to excessive use, but he still had complete control over it. 

However, he misjudged the distance from the hoop. He realised a second too late that he’d taken the first step of the layup later than he was supposed to. 

The ball collided against the rim and rebounded.

“Air ball!” you hollered and zoomed into Sunghoon’s face. “Athletic prowess found to be missing! What a shame!” 

His cheeks, along with the tips of his ears, were red with embarrassment. He couldn’t even bring himself to look into the camera after making such a big fool out of himself.

“I am begging you, Y/N. Can we please edit that part out?” 

“I’m kicking your ass, Park.”

“I suggest you take the over-confidence down a notch.” 

You smirked, dribbling the basketball in place. Sunghoon was blocking the way to your side of the court, and each of the kids on your team had a man on them. Playing in the sun for so long must have tired them out because no one was making an effort to get rid of the shield standing in front of them.

The last match was a 1v1 at this point.  

“I’m not in the habit of lying,” you said, and dribbled the ball from between his legs. 

Sunghoon cursed under his breath and chased after you, but you were speeding away from him faster than he could keep up. The layup was clean and effortless. You barely broke a sweat. 

“SUCK IT!” you screamed. “Your team is going down!” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. He watched your team—Hyun, Chul and Dae—do the victory dance you’d taught them. It was hilarious because none of you had any coordination. The arm wave move made it seem as though all of you were having a seizure. 

“We still have fifteen seconds of the match left,” he pointed out, and pat Iseul’s back in reassurance. “Don’t go celebrating just yet.” 

 “You’re four points behind. Just admit defeat,” Dae said. “We’ve won!” 

“We’re not surrendering,” Hajoon said angrily. “Sunghoon will make sure we win.”

“Boys!” you interrupted loudly. “Let’s finish the championship sportingly. We’re playing for fun.” 

Chul muttered something under his breath that Sunghoon and you chose to ignore. 

“Seojoon,” Sunghoon called quietly. “Now that we have possession of the ball, I need you to pass it to me from below. Then I need Hajoon and Iseul to gang up on Y/N. Don’t push or shove; just keep her away. The worst thing we can do is commit a foul. The rest of the boys won’t be a problem, but I’ll need Seojoon to act as my shield in case they try to take the ball from me. Do not let anyone come near me under any circumstances. I’m going to go for a 5-pointer.”

The trio audibly gasped. 

Iseul nervously asked, “Are you sure you can score?” 

“Not without the three of you helping me out.” Sunghoon nodded. “Y/N is quick and slippery. Keep your eye on her. We’ll lose if she gets possession of the ball. I’ll take care of the rest.” 

The boys let out a sound of agreement and dispersed, taking their respective positions. 

Sunghoon searched for you, and when your gazes met, he made a gesture of slitting his throat. This time, you rolled your eyes and dismissed him without a word. 

“Let’s start,” you announced with a clap and got into position. He noticed you were standing away from the basket. The rest of your team was too. It dawned on Sunghoon that you’d positioned everyone in a way that would prevent them from committing a foul which would grant his team free throws. 

It was smart and reasonable of you to think that way. Sunghoon wasn’t known for landing 5-pointers. Heck, he never even attempted them. He usually went for layups and 3-pointers. 

Focusing on the game, he took a deep breath. Seojoon passed the ball at him as soon as you yelled Go!

Sunghoon dribbled to your side of the court immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you hesitate, but your mouth parted in realisation the second you caught onto what he was doing. 

“Stay on her!” he yelled at Iseul and Hajoon. “Don’t let her go.”

Sunghoon dodged the rest of your teammates. Seojoon wasn’t doing a good job at keeping them away, but he didn’t have enough time to dwell on it. He could do this by himself as long as you were out of the picture. 

Sunghoon eyed the basket and bent at his knees, gathering enough momentum to jump. He’d been hitting the gym more often, and he hoped to God his hard work wouldn’t fail him at such a crucial time. 

Exhaling once, Sunghoon jumped and let the ball fly across the court. The moment the ball was out of his hands, you crashed into him, knocking him to the ground and falling on top of him. 

“Ow,” he muttered, his arm wrapping itself around your waist on instinct. “That’s foul play.” 

Before you could bite back, Sunghoon heard someone scream, “No way! Sunghoon did it!” 

Sunghoon grinned and craned his neck to look at his teammates. A laugh tumbled past his lips when he saw them doing the floss dance and playfully teasing the losing team.

The sound of your groan made him avert his attention to you. You’d raised your head to find out whether Sunghoon had made the basket, and upon realising that you’d lost the match, you let it fall on his chest again. “Man,” you grumbled in defeat.

“Aw,” Sunghoon teased. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Who asked?”

Snorting, Sunghoon loosened his grip around your waist. Rolling off him, you laid down on your back in the middle of the court next to him. “Am I supposed to buy you ice cream now?” 

He checked his watch before answering, “Nah. Let’s go home and freshen up. It’s almost time for my date.”

“The beach,” you marvelled. Both of you were standing on a cliff overlooking the expanse of sand and water. “I should have guessed.” 

Sunghoon agreed. It shouldn’t have been hard to pinpoint the venue of the date once he’d requested you to wear shorts and sandals. However, your obliviousness had worked in his favour. 

The entire thing was supposed to be a surprise. It was supposed to sweep you off your feet.

He averted his attention from the ocean to find that you were already staring at him. A soft smile was adorning your face, and with the breeze ruffling your unbound hair, you looked nothing short of a fairy tale. 

“Do you remember the last time we came here?” you inquired, and returned your gaze to the view again. Sunghoon didn’t bother to take his eyes off you—he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The reflection of the sunset in your irises was too intoxicating. “Jay, Jake, Yizhuo and Isa were with us. We spent the entire night talking around a bonfire. I couldn’t keep myself awake once the clock struck two. You tucked me close and let me rest my head on the space between your shoulder and neck. You kissed my forehead and promised me you’d wake me up in a few hours.” 

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He only kept staring at the image of the sunset in your eyes—the way the ocean consumed the ball of fire the same way his love for you consumed his very being. 

Love shouldn’t hurt this much, he thought. It shouldn’t be this painful.  

“I remember the way you smelt,” you continued. “Like vanilla and sandalwood. I remember wanting to pull you closer because you also smelt like home. I hated moving to a new city for college. I missed our hometown. I missed life being simpler. I missed the old times. But those brief moments before I fell asleep reminded me that not everything had changed. The clumsy boy I’d met in kindergarten was still with me. Sure, he was a bigger pain in my ass than he had been when we were kids, but he hadn’t left my side even once. And I knew he wouldn’t for a long time.”

“You’ve been the only constant in my life, Sunghoon,” you mumbled and turned your body towards his. Snaking your arms around his waist, you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for being a good friend to me. I love you.”

And though Sunghoon knew you didn’t mean it the way he wished you did, he returned your embrace and confessed, “I love you too.” 

“What the fuck?” you whispered and let go of Sunghoon’s hand to jog ahead. “WHAT THE FUCK? IS THAT A CANDLELIGHT DINNER?” 

Laughing in amusement, he pocketed his hands and watched you freak out. The beach was usually crowded at this hour, but he’d asked Jake—the surfer of their group—if there was anywhere he could spend the evening undisturbed. 

“Your eyes do not deceive you,” he joked as he approached you. “I know it’s kind of corny, but this was the most romantic date setting I could think of.”

“Corny?” you exclaimed incredulously. “This is amazing!” Nudging him with your elbow, you teased, “I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

“You would have known a lot more if you’d asked me out before,” Sunghoon smirked, a suggestive undertone to his comment. “But I suppose we can make do with what we have now.”

You snorted. “You’re insufferable.” Then added, “I don’t want to shoot us having dinner here. Maybe I’ll just film the date set-up and our outfits, but I think I want this evening to remain between us only.”

“Oh.” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, that works for me. Do you want me to get your camera?” 

The next five minutes were spent recording the date he had organised. The food was prepared by Jay, whose chef father had taught him a thing or two before the boy moved to the city for college. Sunghoon had dragged Yizhuo and Isa with him to shop for decor. 

They’d bought a soft blanket which was now spread on the sand. He’d also purchased six couch pillows to make the setting cosier. Fairy lights covered the perimeter of the throw. 

The coffee table Sunghoon had stolen from himself and brought to the beach was filled with all kinds of your favourite food, a scented candle burning in the centre of it. 

Since he’d known he couldn’t escape you to set up everything that he’d planned, he’d begged his friends to do it for him. Obviously, they’d teased him about it on their group chat, but he’d ignored them the way he always did. 

“I have another surprise,” Sunghoon popped as the two of you settled down on opposite sides of the table. “I don’t know if you’re going to be up for it though.”

“Is it the wine?” you asked, eyeing the corked bottle partially hidden under one of the pillows. “Because I saw it long back, and I am all for getting drunk.” 

Sunghoon chuckled. “Nah, it’s not the wine, but yeah, we’re getting drunk. There’s absolutely no doubt about it. But,” he continued, “I’d been going through Pinterest to search for date ideas when I called you in the middle of your movie a few nights ago. After our talk, I remembered you’d made this board with Karina when you were a thirteen-year-old.”

You gasped and reached over the table to smack his arm. “You stalked my Pinterest?! That is so uncool! There’s tons of embarrassing shit on there! I should have privated those boards when I had the chance,” you muttered to yourself. 

“Then I wouldn’t have rented a projector for us to watch a movie after we finish dinner.” Sunghoon grinned cheekily. “We are not watching some sappy romcom though,” he warned. “Soap2Day came in clutch so we can watch Suzume or Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3. Your choice.”

Your mouth parted in surprise. For a few moments, you didn’t say anything. With a raised eyebrow, Sunghoon watched you struggle to form the words. “Okay, I know it was creepy to stalk you on Pinterest—” 

“NO!” you blurted, your eyes widening. “It’s not creepy! I just—No one has ever done anything of this sort for me. I don’t know what to say except… thank you.”

Before he could reply, you buried your face in your hands, and muttered, “Gosh, I sound so ungrateful, but I really do appreciate it. More than I can express.” Raising your head, you looked straight into his eyes. “I have this extremely strong urge to kiss you right now. Would it be fine with you if I acted on it?”

Sunghoon stopped breathing. His smile dropped, and his heart skipped a beat. The entire world could have crumbled, and he would have remained frozen in place, trying to make sense of what you’d just said. 

“W—what?” he croaked. 

You broke off the eye contact and dropped your gaze to the ground. “Sorry. That was stupid of me—”

“Yes,” Sunghoon breathed. “Yes, it would be fine with me.” 

You exhaled, appearing visibly relieved, and that somehow made him feel better about the sharp turn the evening had taken. Of course, he was thrilled you wanted to kiss him, but part of him couldn’t help but wonder if you’d regretted voicing your thoughts. 

Licking your lips, you unfolded your legs and scooted away from the table. Instead of standing up, you got on your knees and made your way towards him.

Sunghoon also moved away from the table to make space for you, and once you reached him, you swung your legs on either side of him. Straddling his lap, you towered over him. 

Snaking your arms around his shoulder, you glanced at his mouth. 

Even though it was driving Sunghoon out of his mind to not close the distance between your lips, he let you take your time. You traced your thumb across his lower lip and then shifted your hand to the back of his neck. 

Weaving your fingers through his hair, you let your eyes flutter shut and lowered your mouth over his. 

Sunghoon’s entire universe exploded into shards of molten light. A tidal wave of emotions crashed into him, setting his nerves on fire and making fireworks explode inside his chest.

The boy couldn’t have kissed you back any faster. Tilting his head to the side, he pulled you closer by the nape. 

Settling in his lap, you tugged at his hair, the nails of your other hand digging into his shoulder. 

A groan slipped past Sunghoon’s lips. God, he’d coveted the taste of you for so long, and now that he was finally kissing you, he realised he’d never estimated the magnitude of his love for you accurately before. 

Because this… this was everything. Sunghoon felt on top of the world, and pure euphoria was coursing through his veins. He couldn’t get enough of you. A single kiss would never be enough to satiate him. The floodgates were thrown open, and the thought of this being a one-time, impulsive thing made his gut twist painfully. 

He knew he needed to tell you. Right here, right now, he needed to tell you the truth. 

“Y/N.” Sunghoon gasped, breaking the kiss. He was leaning back now, his weight resting on his left elbow. The desperation and urgency with which you’d come onto him had been more than he could handle. “I need to tell you something.” 

Your eyes remained glued to his lips and there was a tinge of disappointment on your face. As if you didn’t want to stop. As if you wanted to keep going. 

With a jolt, it dawned on him that you probably wanted him just as much as he wanted you.  

The epiphany alone was enough for Sunghoon to consider ditching his plan of confessing his feelings and instead close the distance between your mouths again. But, he steeled his nerves and pushed himself into a sitting position.

He didn’t bother asking you to get up from his lap nor did he bother removing his left hand from your waist. If this confession went sideways, he’d end up losing you anyway. 

“What is it?” you whispered, your disappointed expression giving way to concern and nervousness. “Did I go too far? I’m sorry—”

“Stop,” Sunghoon ground out. “Please stop. Let me speak.” 

You pursed your lips, but he could tell you were scared shitless. There was fear in your eyes, and he hated making you feel as though you’d done something wrong when you’d given him the one thing he’d wanted more than anything else.

“I…” Sunghoon started, forcing himself to find the courage to say the words. “Y/N, I love you.” 

There it was. He’d done it. The cat was out of the bag, and all he could do now was wait with bated breath. 

Your mouth parted open, but no sound came out of it. Your face was unreadable. It was void of any emotion. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sunghoon tore his gaze from yours and let out a humourless laugh. “Right. That’s okay—”

But then he felt your hands grabbing his jaw, making him pin his attention on you again. 

There was pure, unadulterated joy on your countenance, a wide smile adorning your lips. “I love you too,” you breathed. “Oh, my God, Sunghoon, I love you too.” 

Sunghoon blinked. “What?” he mumbled, his mouth set in a pout due to your squishing his cheeks. 

You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his puckered lips. “I love you too,” you repeated. 

Gripping your hands, Sunghoon removed them from his face and stared up at you in bewilderment. “You’re serious?” 

“Hasn’t it been obvious to you?”

“Hasn’t it been obvious to you?” he shot back. “I’ve loved you since high school.”

You snorted. “So have I.” 

“Sophomore year.”

“Same.”

“I knew right after the homecoming ball.”

“Sucker!” you exclaimed. “I knew right after the game!” 

Sunghoon frowned. “It’s not a competition, Y/N,” he said, and then added, “But if it were, I would win. The amount of effort I’ve put into hiding my feelings is insane.”

“Sure,” you drawled. “That’s why all my followers keep saying it’s clear you’re in love with me.”

The tips of his ears turned red in embarrassment. “You saw the comments?” 

“Of course I did,” you answered, your voice soft. “I just never believed them. The notion never seemed possible. Isn’t it crazy how it was real this entire time?” 

Sunghoon chuckled. “We’re idiots.”

“We are,” you said, smiling at him in affection. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have ever said anything about what I truly felt if you hadn’t found the courage to confess to me.” 

“I know, I know,” you defended and rolled your eyes when he gave you a pointed look. “I did ask if I could kiss you. Trust me, I was more surprised than you were. Heck, I was fully prepared to play it off by spouting some bullshit in case you said no. What you did for me, Sunghoon… I couldn’t keep the urge inside me anymore. I didn’t care about the consequences. I didn’t care that there would be no turning back—I knew I had to take the risk. And I’m glad that I did.”

Sunghoon’s heart swelled with joy. “Me too.”

“Wait,” you said quickly. “How’d you know you were in love with me?”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, he answered, “While we were dancing at homecoming. You didn’t have a single move in you, but you didn’t wanna be the only one not dancing, so you started doing what you’d learnt in Zumba. It was hilarious—watching you be clueless but still killing it on the dance floor. It made me proud of you, but more than that, it made me realise what I felt for you.” 

“Aw,” you cooed. “That’s really sweet of you, but I definitely knew what I was doing.”

“Let’s not ruin the moment by lying to each other.”

“You’re such a dork!” 

“It’s your turn now!” Sunghoon grinned. “Tell me!”

“Okay, but you have to promise not to judge me,” you warned. “My story is embarrassing.” 

Locking his pinkie with yours, he promised, “I won’t.”

“Remember how you sat with Yeojin at the game?” you asked, to which Sunghoon nodded. “Well, I’d been saving seats for us. I fought a lot of people to keep the seat next to me vacant, but you didn’t even acknowledge me when I called your name. Yeojin caught hold of you, and you went to sit with her without bothering to check if I was around.” Shrugging, you mumbled, “That made me mad and jealous and upset. Not just at her, but at both of you. I’d never been possessive over my friends, and I’d never felt such ugly emotions before. There was only one reasonable explanation.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows flew up. “Woah. I’m sorry for what I did.”

“Nah, it’s cool. It was loud at the game and I don’t think you heard me.” You laughed and waved him away. “I was being petty. And I know it’s not cute like your story, but that was what made me realise there was a chance I loved you.”

“Cute or not, that was the best story I’ve ever heard,” he said cheekily. “Also, don’t get me wrong—I would love nothing more than have you sit in my lap, but I think we should finish dinner first. Let’s finish what you started once we’re done eating.”

Your eyes widened, and you scrambled away from him. “Right.”

“Wait!” Sunghoon grabbed your wrist before you could get up and go back to the other side of the table. “The asters—what do they signify?” 

You smiled and leaned closer to his face, pressing the gentlest of kisses to his cheek. 

“Love.” 

---

THIS SO GOOD! GIMME 14 OF THEM RIGHT NOW!

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating

warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon

word count: 21,858

playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))

author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.

to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.

In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this. 

In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents. 

Or to you. 

Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!” 

Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come. 

Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?

When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.” 

And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay. 

The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.” 

Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head. 

Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies. 

For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches. 

“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.

The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes. 

His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you. 

There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you. 

Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking. 

Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments. 

Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out. 

This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle. 

It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony. 

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years. 

Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat. 

The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.

“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper. 

Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.” 

A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs. 

“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.” 

Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live. 

“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows. 

It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears. 

“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.” 

“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?” 

With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her. 

“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping. 

Sunghoon cries again. 

Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him. 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word. 

Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.” 

There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.

Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.

“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?” 

“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected. 

As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him. 

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?” 

“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?” 

“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him. 

As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.

Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way. 

Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask. 

Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.” 

His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.” 

“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”

You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor. 

He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you? 

Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set. 

When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away. 

The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been. 

For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same. 

Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks. 

He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear. 

“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.” 

“You will?” 

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all. 

A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay. 

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods. 

In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home. 

“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw. 

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.” 

These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.

He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”

You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking. 

Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine. 

He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles. 

“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?” 

A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.” 

The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads. 

You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”

An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.” 

The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting. 

“From here?” he asks, incredulous. 

“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.” 

Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper. 

“Open the boot.”

He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what. 

You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”

Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move. 

You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other. 

Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours. 

With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again. 

Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed. 

He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace. 

Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not. 

It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it. 

While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since. 

Until tonight at least. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying. 

“What happened?”

You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck. 

For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough. 

“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”

A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room. 

Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down. 

Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room. 

For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding. 

“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn. 

“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.” 

You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?” 

His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed. 

Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly. 

The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet. 

As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch. 

After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.

You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs. 

Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”

Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.” 

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?” 

A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?” 

“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it. 

A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.” 

As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway. 

“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.

Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.” 

If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction. 

“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”

At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.

“You two okay back there?” she asks. 

“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes. 

The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs. 

“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea. 

His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.

Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping. 

His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush. 

Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.

After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used. 

“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.” 

Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry. 

His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it. 

Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt. 

“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.

Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally. 

“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.” 

Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.

“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?” 

Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for. 

Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?” 

Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” 

“Everything.” 

There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.” 

Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed. 

“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.” 

“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?” 

“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?” 

Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.” 

Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak. 

“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?” 

You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you. 

“I didn’t.” 

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t. 

Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.

“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff. 

“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.

“Nowhere.” 

“You told him you were staying on campus?” 

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out. 

“So you just left?” 

“Does it make a difference to you?” 

Sunghoon nods.

For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.” 

Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront. 

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?” 

You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”

He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.” 

“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him. 

“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.” 

You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”

“I still should’ve been there.” 

“You’re here now, right?” 

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.” 

Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing. 

“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.

Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.” 

You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat. 

Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents. 

For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do. 

You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.” 

“What?” 

You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”

In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now. 

About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing. 

He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother. 

“What’s this for?” she asks. 

“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.” 

He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince. 

An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family. 

The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you. 

His chest tightens when you start crying. 

“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.

In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.

Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan. 

Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak. 

“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush. 

You don’t respond. 

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.” 

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo. 

There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks. 

“Go back to sleep,” he says. 

“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves. 

Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.” 

You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot. 

“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head. 

He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave? 

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.

It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. 

“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again.  “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.” 

Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point. 

You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning. 

The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing. 

“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.” 

All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it. 

“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.” 

It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.

“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.” 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.” 

It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart. 

Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead. 

It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.

Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely. 

You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.

He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair. 

Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?” 

The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them. 

“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.

“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.

Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?” 

Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down. 

True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.

YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it? 

hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer

hoonie: I missed you so much.. 

hoonie: 🤍

The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you. 

“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt. 

“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too. 

She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.” 

“The longest of my life.” 

Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her. 

During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her. 

“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work. 

Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.” 

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?” 

“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.” 

“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.” 

“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”

Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.

You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind. 

When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.

You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand. 

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together? 

you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you? 

hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D 

Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.

“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him. 

Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.” 

“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides. 

He hums, nodding his head.

You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day. 

“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.” 

“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?” 

Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.” 

He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.

“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?” 

A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.” 

“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.” 

“Deal.” 

Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.

At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.

Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard. 

During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.

“How are your notes so good?” 

“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.” 

A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles. 

Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..

There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin. 

You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.

After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs. 

To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.

Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.

Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence. 

“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.” 

“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?” 

Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose. 

“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.” 

You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.” 

Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices. 

It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.” 

Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” 

“Yes. It’s three a.m.” 

“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.” 

You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed. 

Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?” 

You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”

“You seem fine to me.” 

A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way. 

From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?” 

“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”

At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed. 

“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door. 

Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing. 

“Tell me.” 

Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.” 

Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm. 

Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think. 

It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?

Yeonjun did.

Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring. 

Oh, you think. Lovesickness. 

When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges. 

You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk. 

You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours. 

There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world. 

You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate. 

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat. 

“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.” 

Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon. 

“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.” 

A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.

“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.” 

Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest. 

“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”

That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it. 

This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.” 

You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say. 

At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.

You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.

It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon. 

you: i have news wonie..  i like sunghoon

wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news? 

wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call? 

She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call. 

“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day. 

Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?” 

“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.” 

A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.” 

“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.” 

Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up. 

Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm. 

She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.

hoonie: Wanna study together after class? 

you: of course!!!!!! 

hoonie: 🤍

The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn 

hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table? 

you: i’ll try..

It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view. 

Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table. 

“Are you hot?” you blurt out. 

Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.

“I’m asking,” you mumble. 

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.” 

Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.” 

He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.

“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.

Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”

You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference. 

You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up. 

After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”

“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.” 

He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.” 

“You’re distracting.”

A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?” 

Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel. 

Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head. 

“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?” 

Oh. 

Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.” 

His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.

“Are you going to get that?” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” 

You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.

“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.” 

“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too. 

After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought. 

Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table. 

What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on. 

The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set. 

“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.” 

“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?” 

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.” 

“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy. 

A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in. 

Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are? 

You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon. 

Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink. 

On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor. 

Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.” 

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation. 

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.” 

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it. 

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better. 

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet. 

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on. 

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.” 

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away. 

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.” 

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.” 

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.” 

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.” 

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it. 

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you. 

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling. 

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one. 

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence. 

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you. 

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter. 

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands. 

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart. 

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.” 

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting. 

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite. 

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger. 

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you. 

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.” 

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight. 

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under. 

You love him. He’s gone. 

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on. 

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing. 

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands. 

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you. 

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him. 

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.” 

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs. 

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.” 

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?” 

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.” 

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it. 

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely. 

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.” 

“Please can I be your boyfriend?” 

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest. 

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️ 

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants. 

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t. 

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm.. 

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back. 

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?” 

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.” 

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?” 

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.” 

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage. 

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.” 

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?” 

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly. 

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done. 

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too. 

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies. 

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over. 

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent. 

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond. 

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.” 

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods. 

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot. 

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.” 

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down. 

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can. 

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock. 

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. 

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest. 

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head. 

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise. 

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.” 

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours. 

You nod. “You can.” 

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you. 

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit. 

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings. 

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“And this? If you want..” 

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you. 

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats. 

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly. 

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.” 

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them. 

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage. 

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Hoon,” you whisper. 

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?” 

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.” 

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble. 

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls. 

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.” 

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under. 

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth. 

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition. 

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back. 

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes. 

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back. 

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

---

Center Stage

Ni-Ki x Reader

Genre: Slow burn, Friends to lovers?, TENSION, fluff, slight angst.

You met Riki in middle school.

Back then, he wasn’t an idol—just a boy with too much energy, a love for dancing, and an undeniable talent that made everyone stop and watch. You were the same, drawn to movement, rhythm, the way music could shape a body’s motion. It was natural that you gravitated toward each other, becoming dance partners in every after-school practice, challenging each other, pushing limits.

Then I-LAND happened.

You remembered the day he told you. How he sat next to you, legs bouncing, eyes lit up with excitement and nerves.

“I’m going for it.”

And just like that, he was gone, swept into a world that you could only watch from a screen. But he never forgot you. He never let go.

When he made it into Enhypen, his career took off like wildfire. And then, one day, a message from him appeared on your phone.

Riki: You still dancing?

You: Of course.

Riki: Good. I need a backup dancer. Come audition.

It was ridiculous, almost laughable. You had danced together since you were kids—why should you have to audition? But you went anyway, and when you stepped into that studio, locking eyes with him for the first time in years, it was like nothing had changed.

Except, everything had.

He was taller. Sharper. His movements had refined into something powerful, magnetic. He wasn’t just Riki anymore. He was Ni-ki, Enhypen’s maknae, a performer in his prime. And yet, when you danced together, it felt like middle school again. Like it was just the two of you.

So, you stayed.

At first, you blended into the background—just another dancer in the crowd, barely noticeable. But then Bite Me happened.

And everything changed.

More Than Just A Dance

“I want her.”

You froze.

The room was silent as the choreographer looked between you and Ni-ki, brows raised. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Your stomach flipped. It wasn’t uncommon for idols to have a say in their dance partners, but the certainty in Ni-ki’s voice made your pulse jump.

That was how you found yourself front and center in Bite Me—not just another backup dancer, but his partner. The choreography was intimate, electrifying. Every step brought you closer, hands brushing, bodies aligning in perfect sync. You knew it was just performance, just acting. But the way his touch lingered? The way his gaze burned into yours?

It felt like something else.

And then the fans noticed.

Edits flooded the internet—clips of you and Ni-ki, the stolen glances, the way your bodies moved together with an ease that shouldn’t have been possible. Comments speculated, theories ran wild.

“They have to be dating.”

“The chemistry is insane. You can’t fake that.”

“They look at each other like they’re in love.”

Ni-ki brushed it off at first.

“They ship me with everyone,” he said, scrolling through the comments. But his voice lacked conviction, his fingers tightening around his phone. And when he glanced at you, there was something unreadable in his eyes.

Then came Artist of the Month.

When he asked for you again, no one questioned it. You were his first choice, his only choice.

Late-night rehearsals became routine—just you, him, and the music, the weight of unspoken words pressing against your chest. The tension was suffocating. Every moment felt charged, the space between you growing smaller, the air growing thicker.

And then, one night, it happened.

Both of you were playing around, doing random dances and having fun. Then came a dip in the choreography. His hand on your waist, yours gripping his wrist.

Your faces inches apart.

Neither of you moved.

The music kept playing, but all you could hear was the pounding of your own heart. His breath fanned against your lips, his eyes dark, searching.

And then—

“Whoa—”

The door creaked open, and Sunghoon’s voice shattered the moment.

You and Ni-ki jolted apart like you’d been burned. Sunghoon leaned against the doorframe, smirking. “Did I interrupt something?”

Ni-ki ran a hand through his hair, looking away. “Shut up.”

Sunghoon just laughed. “You two are unreal.”

The rest of the night, Ni-ki barely looked at you.

And you? You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he almost kissed you.

A line crossed:

After that night, things were different.

The rehearsals still happened. The performances still went on. But something had shifted.

He touched you differently—more careful, more aware. His teasing was softer, his gaze heavier. It was like he was trying to pull away and hold on at the same time.

Then, one evening, after another late-night practice, you found yourselves alone in the studio.

“You’ve been acting weird,” you said, arms crossed. “What’s up with you?”

Ni-ki exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing.”

“Liar.”

He looked at you then, and something in his expression made your breath catch. Frustration. Hesitation. Something dangerously close to longing.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked quietly.

Your throat tightened. “About what?”

He stepped closer. “Us.”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. “Ni-ki—”

“I think about it all the time.”

Silence.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. “We can’t.”

His jaw clenched. “Why not?”

“Because this—this isn’t how things work.”

His gaze flickered to your lips. “But it could be.”

For a split second, you thought he might kiss you. And for a split second, you thought you might let him.

But then you took a step back.

And the space between you felt colder than ever.

To be continued…

A/n: Hi my lil monsters!! How we likey? I’ve been wantin to write some slow burn so here it is! Hope yall like it and I just might write a part two.

Love ya, Twilight!

Tags:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz @sxmmerchxld @multifandomgirllol @gizaspicebag @truefandemonium

---

i need him biblically 🧎‍♀️‍➡️

-Matchmaker Mishaps Masterlist-

Synopsis

Known for being great at setting people up, Y/n gets dared to find the perfect match for Sunghoon who has never shown interest in anyone before. After a series of hilariously failed dates, Y/N starts to realize that maybe the reason nothing worked is because Sunghoon’s perfect match has been her all along.

Pairings

Sunghoon x fem!reader

Genre

SMAU, fluff, oblivious ppl in love, slight angst

Belle’s notes

This will start as soon as ‘SYN’ finishes (rlly soon), send an ask or comment here to be added to the taglist!!

————————————————————————

Gossip Boys Cupid’s Center

Prologue

Chapter 1 - visual couple?!

Chapter 2 - that was a DISASTER (204 wc)

Chapter 3 - worst case scenario

Chapter 4 - where is the spark? (534 wc)

Chapter 5 - emo tweet (442 wc)

Chapter 6 - cupid but bitchless

Chapter 7 - lovergirl wya (674 wc)

Chapter 8 - tht shld be me

Chapter 9 - what r u scheming (508 wc)

Chapter 10 - NOT THE HEATHER NO (351 wc)

Chapter 11 - i hate idiots in love

Chapter 12 - i identify as a dog now

Chapter 13 - hmmm (612 wc)

Chapter 14 - why r we on koreaboo

Chapter 15 - atp we will all get fired

Chapter 16 - she has the brain of an austistic monkey (449 wc)

Chapter 17 - my whole body is twitching

Chapter 18 - we r going to be the spiderman brothers (1,2+ wc)

Chapter 19 - sunghoon.exe has stopped working

Chapter 20 - submissive n breedable

————————————————————————

TAGLIST - @jayjw16enxp @questionsdearreader @roy-sue @honeychocos @st1llm0nster @ikeulove @jiiyen @nshmurarki @shae00701 @andassortedkpop @t1iqaa @woorcve @kixri @mrchweeee @elegancefr @sol3chu @wave2hoon @en-verse @shuichi-sama @heekilrvs @manaah02 @mwahvvis @ribbioniki @ilovbeshotaro @who-tf-soddhi @n1k1mura @stvrriki @r1kification

(Bolded can’t be tag)

©honeybelleee on tumblr!

---

how to not fall in love

summary: you’ve been in love with heeseung for as long as you can remember, but to him, you’ve always just been the best friend—reliable, familiar, safe. so when you hear him say he doesn’t see you that way, you decide it’s time to stop. stop caring, stop hoping. but ignoring someone you’ve loved for years is harder than it sounds… especially when he starts acting like he doesn’t want you to stop.

genre: fluff | best friends to lovers

characters: best friend!heeseungx f!reader

words: 7.6k

warnings: none i think!

a/n: and here is my first enha fic!!!! <3<3 and yes heeseung is my bias

You don’t even remember when it started.

Maybe it was the first time Heeseung flashed you that ridiculously charming smile on your very first day of kindergarten—doe eyes, dimpled cheeks, and a shy little wave like he was offering you his entire heart with just a look.

Or maybe it was that time in middle school when he forgot there was a major history exam and you stayed up until 2 a.m. making color-coded flashcards for him, highlighters smudged on your fingers and worry tugging at your chest. He showed up the next morning at your door, hair a mess, holding a bag of greasy Chinese takeout and two cans of your favorite peach soda.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he said, in that effortless, playful way of his, ruffling your hair like you were some helpful little puppy.

You laughed, but your heart did a triple somersault.

Love. He said it like it was casual.

Not knowing it felt like a confession to you.

Truth is, it only got worse from there.

Your unrequited love? It grew legs and started running wild.

You became that friend. The one in the front row of every basketball game, waving a glittery sign that said "LEE HEESEUNG" like your life depended on it. The one who always brought him coffee after his late-night study sessions, who memorized the snacks he liked at the convenience store, who texted him good luck before every presentation even though he always forgot yours.

And Heeseung would flash that same boyish grin—the one that made your knees a little weak—and casually sling an arm around your shoulders.

“Man, I don’t know who I am without you,” he’d say, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And you? You’d fall just a little harder.

Just a little. But it added up.

You didn’t mean for it to. You tried to keep your heart in check. But all those little things—the inside jokes, the shoulder bumps in the hallway, the way he said your name—slowly stitched themselves into something deeper. Something messier. Something real.

Heeseung never treated you like you were just anyone. That was the cruel part.

Like that time you got lost at one of his away games. You’d shown up early, too excited, only to realize you had no idea where to go. The school was huge, the gym impossible to find, and every hallway looked the same.

And then—there he was.

Heeseung, panting, scanning the sea of people until his eyes landed on you.

“There you are,” he breathed out, like he hadn’t just run halfway across campus. His brows furrowed like he was worried, and before you could say anything, he grabbed your wrist.

“C’mon,” he murmured, pulling you through the crowd like you were something precious he needed to protect. He didn’t let go—not even when the noise got louder or people jostled you. Somewhere along the way, he slid your bag off your shoulder and carried it himself.

He only let go once you were seated, right in the front row.

“There,” he said, still a little breathless. “Gotcha here safe and sound.”

Then he jogged off, leaving your heart pounding, your bag heavy in your lap, and a quiet kind of warmth blooming in your chest.

You found out later that he’d skipped the team’s pre-game drills just to look for you. As team captain, he was supposed to be rallying the others—but instead, he was making sure you weren’t lost.

Coach made him run three extra laps.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, guilt curling in your stomach.

Heeseung just laughed, brushing his damp hair back and flashing you that familiar grin. “It’s okay. I kinda liked looking for you.”

Moments like that—where he made you feel like the center of the universe—those were the hardest.

Because deep down, you always knew he didn’t see you the way you saw him.

The final straw came a few weeks later.

You’d been waiting by the bleachers again, holding his jacket like you always did, when you overheard Jake teasing him.

“She’s here again. You two are practically glued together. You sure you’re not… boinking?”

Heeseung laughed. “Boinking?”

Your heart fluttered. Just a little.

Then he said it. With zero hesitation.

“She’s cute. A great friend. But I don’t see her that way.”

Friend.

The word echoed in your head like a slap.

And just like that, something inside you snapped.

The next morning, you opened your journal, flipped to a blank page, and wrote in bold, all-caps letters:

HOW TO NOT FALL IN LOVE (feat. Lee Heeseung)

Goal: Stop giving a damn about Lee Heeseung. Duration: One month.

And for the first time in forever, you meant it.

Really, really meant it.

—

The next day at school, you walked through the gates with an air of fake confidence and a heart wrapped in duct tape. This was it. Day one. 

No more overshooting your texts to Heeseung. No more waiting by the court with his water bottle. No more volunteering to help him with homework he didn’t even remember to start. He was perfectly capable of surviving without you.

Probably.

But the moment you saw him in the courtyard, laughing at something Jake said, your heart betrayed you.

Your hand lifted in an automatic wave before you even realized what you were doing. And—ugh—was that a smile forming?

You gasped like you'd caught yourself mid-crime and yanked your hand back down with enough force to nearly dislocate your shoulder. You spun around so fast your bag almost knocked over a freshman. You tried to act cool, casually pretending the ground was the most fascinating thing you'd ever seen.

Behind you, Heeseung paused, confused. He blinked. Tilted his head. Squinted at your retreating back like he was trying to solve a very strange math equation.

But then he shrugged it off. Probably nothing.

Probably.

Too bad he didn’t know this was just the beginning of the end.

—-

“This little tough girl act,” Sunghoon said with a smirk, reaching into your popcorn bucket like he had every right. “How long do you think it’s going to last?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pulling the bucket closer. “Keep your hands out of my popcorn, you menace.”

Out on the court, Heeseung was practicing, all focused determination and smooth movements. You were trying—not entirely successfully—not to watch him. You’d even worn sunglasses. Indoors. As if they could protect your heart.

“Come on,” Sunghoon drawled. “Don’t pretend I didn’t see you freeze up this morning when he smiled at you like a puppy with a college degree.”

You exhaled sharply. “It was a momentary lapse in judgment.”

“Right. And I’m the Prime Minister of Canada.”

With a dramatic sigh, you leaned back against the bleachers. “I’m serious this time. One month. No more hopeless pining. No more letting him carry my bag like we’re a couple. No more doodling ‘Mr. and Mrs. Heeseung’ in the margins of my notebooks.”

“You still do that?”

“I–No.”

Sunghoon laughed under his breath.

You risked a glance at the court.

Mistake.

Heeseung dribbled the ball between his legs and sank a perfect shot, his lips tugging into that maddeningly confident smile, turning to you..

And, shamefully, you made a noise. A small, undignified sound that gave you away entirely.

Sunghoon gave you a long, knowing look. “You’re doomed.”

“I am not doomed,” you said, clutching your popcorn like a shield. “I’m just... recalibrating. This is emotional detox.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re detoxing the way someone digs a chocolate wrapper out of the trash.”

You groaned. “Why are you even here?”

“Free snacks. And the immense satisfaction of watching you pretend you’ve moved on.”

You stuffed a handful of popcorn in your mouth, avoiding his gaze. Because, regrettably, he wasn’t wrong.

And worse? You missed Heeseung. More than you cared to admit. Everything reminded you of him. A bouncing basketball. A laugh down the hallway. A lamppost that was, in your defense, approximately his height and general vibe.

This was going to be the longest month of your life.

—

Heeseung was starting to notice.

At first, it was little things. You stopped walking with him after class. You sat further away during lunch. You didn’t show up at practice with your usual energy, pretending to be absorbed in something else when he looked your way. It was subtle but to him, it felt like someone had lowered the volume on his favorite song.

He found himself scanning the bleachers more than usual, eyes flicking toward the spots where you usually sat, only to find them empty or occupied by someone else. You were still around, just... not with him.

Jake noticed first.

“You good?” he asked during water break, glancing at Heeseung who was frowning at his phone.

“Yeah,” Heeseung replied, not looking up. “I just... I don’t know. Have you talked to her lately?”

Jake raised a brow. “She was literally just at lunch.”

“She barely said a word to me.”

Jake took a long sip from his bottle. “Maybe she’s busy.”

Heeseung nodded, but it didn’t feel like busy. It felt like... distant. Like you were pulling away, and he didn’t know why.

He scrolled back through your messages. There weren’t any unread ones. Just a few recent texts from him that you’d responded to with short answers. No smiley faces. No exclamation marks. Just plain, flat replies.

And it bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

He was used to your messages being filled with too many emojis, random inside jokes, and links to memes you knew he’d find stupid but would laugh at anyway. You hadn’t even sent him your usual “good luck” before the last game.

Heeseung didn’t say anything out loud, but he could feel it—a little ache forming. Like something was shifting. Like something he’d taken for granted was slipping away.

And he didn’t know how to ask you why.

—

You were power-walking down the hallway like a woman on a mission—head high, steps brisk, thoughts screaming something along the lines of Do not look back. Do not turn around. You are ice. You are steel. You are—

“Hey!”

You nearly tripped over your own feet.

Heeseung.

You turned around slowly—casually, you hoped—and gave him what you prayed was a totally normal smile. Not awkward. Not panicked. Not like your internal monologue was screaming.

“Oh! Hi,” you said, like your voice hadn’t just jumped an octave.

He jogged the last few steps to reach you, a little out of breath, but still managing that soft, easy smile of his. “Didn’t see you after practice this week.”

“Oh,” you said quickly. “Yeah, I’ve just been… around. Super busy.”

“Busy?” he echoed, tilting his head slightly. “With?”

You blinked. “Uh, Yearbook Committee.”

His brows knit together. “I didn’t know you were in the Yearbook Committee.”

“I’m… new,” you added, voice trailing off as your brain gave up on its own excuse.

There was a beat of silence, but he didn’t push. Just nodded slowly, like he was trying to make sense of it all.

Then he smiled again—gentle, like always. “Well, I was just wondering if you were free to—”

“Oh no, sorry!” you cut in, way too fast. “I have to go walk Sunghoon.”

He blinked. “Walk... Sunghoon? The third year student from Algebra?”

“Yes,” you said, forcing a bright smile. “He’s full of energy. If I don’t walk him, he gets cranky. Like a puppy.”

He stared at you, clearly confused. His lips parted like he wanted to ask another question, but instead, he just... laughed. Not a mocking laugh—more like he didn’t quite know what else to do with this absurd turn of conversation.

“Okay. Well… I guess I’ll see you later then?”

“Yup! Later!” you squeaked, turning around so fast you nearly dropped your bag.

You could feel his gaze on you as you walked away—light, warm, lingering. Like he was trying to figure you out.

And you? You were trying not to look back. Trying not to feel how much you missed being around him. How much you wanted to stay.

Because the truth was: you missed him. You missed you with him.

But you’d started something. And for now, you had to stick to it.

Even if it sucked.

—

Heeseung swore something was off.

You weren’t gone, exactly. You still passed him in the hallways. Still laughed a little too loudly with Sunghoon and Jay at lunch. Still wore that bright-colored scarf he once said made you look like a strawberry popsicle.

But you weren’t with him.

Not the way you used to be.

He sat on the edge of the court after practice, towel around his neck, eyes scanning the bleachers again. He hated how natural the motion had become. How instinctive it was to search for you—even when he knew you wouldn’t be there.

Jake flopped down beside him, cracking open a sports drink. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Heeseung muttered.

“You don’t sound like it.”

Heeseung shrugged, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “Have you noticed... she’s been different?”

Jake raised a brow. “You mean how she’s not orbiting you like a lovesick planet anymore?”

Heeseung shot him a glare. “That’s not what I meant.”

Jake took a slow sip of his drink. “Isn’t it?”

Heeseung didn’t answer.

Because maybe it was what he meant.

Maybe he had gotten used to you being everywhere. At his games. At his side. Texting him about nothing and everything. Laughing at his dumb jokes. Holding out his bag like it belonged more to you than to him.

And now? Now the silence felt sharp. Uncomfortable.

He scrolled through his messages again. No new ones from you. The last conversation ended with your half-hearted “haha yeah” two days ago.

You didn’t even send him a good luck text before his test today. You always sent him one. Usually something stupid like “Don’t choke! But if you do, make it dramatic so you can retake it with pity points.” It used to make him laugh. It used to calm him down.

Today, he hadn’t laughed before the test.

And he hadn’t done all that well, either.

He sighed, tipping his head back against the wall of the gym.

He didn’t know what had changed. But something had.

And he was starting to think he really didn’t like it.

—

Heeseung wasn’t looking for you.

He absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent was not looking for you.

He just happened to glance over at the courtyard. That’s all.

And okay, maybe his eyes landed on you instantly—like a magnet snapping into place. You were standing with Sunghoon and Jay, your laugh bright and easy, head tipped back like you didn’t have a single worry in the world.

And then Sunghoon did it.

He leaned in and ruffled your hair.

Casual. Familiar.

Too familiar.

Heeseung’s stomach twisted.

He didn’t understand it at first. Not really. He just kept staring, a weird sort of tightness building in his chest, like something was pressing down on him. And then—just to make it worse—Sunghoon said something that made you laugh again. You reached out and lightly shoved his shoulder, still smiling, completely unaware of the storm brewing across the courtyard.

Jake noticed immediately.

“You’re staring again,” he said, biting into an apple with all the serenity of someone enjoying the drama but pretending not to.

“I’m not,” Heeseung muttered.

“Your eyes haven’t left her for five minutes.”

“I’m just… wondering what they’re talking about.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “You mean, what she and Sunghoon are talking about?”

Heeseung said nothing.

Jake smirked. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’re just planning their wedding. Probably picking out the cake flavor right now.”

“Shut up.”

Jake laughed. “So this is jealousy, huh?”

“It’s not jealousy.”

“Oh yeah, no, of course not. You're just glaring at Sunghoon like you’re mentally photoshopping him out of existence for completely unrelated reasons.”

Heeseung turned away, rubbing a hand over his face.

It wasn’t like he had a claim on you. You could hang out with whoever you wanted. Laugh at anyone’s jokes. Let anyone ruffle your hair.

So why did it feel like something in him was unraveling?

—

Heeseung wasn’t sure what was bothering him, but he knew something felt... off.

You were still around—at lunch, in the halls, in some of your shared classes—but somehow, you were always just out of reach. If he turned one way, you turned the other. If he called your name, someone else answered for you. It was subtle. Strategic.

And frustrating.

Now, walking alone down the hallway, books tucked under one arm, the other gripping his backpack strap, he found his thoughts drifting back to you. Again.

Jake wasn’t there to tease him for it today, off doing who-knows-what, so for once it was just Heeseung and the quiet, creeping ache of your absence.

And then he saw you.

You were halfway down the corridor, walking like you had somewhere to be, light on your feet as always. Maybe it was the way you moved like you had a secret no one else knew or maybe it was just that he hadn’t really seen you in days. Not properly. Not up close.

Before he could stop himself, his hand reached out, catching you gently by the wrist.

“Hey,” he said, smiling before he realized it.

You blinked up at him, startled. “Huh?”

“It’s been a while since I walked you home,” Heeseung said, tilting his head slightly, trying to sound casual. “Want to go together?”

You froze. Your mind scrambled for an excuse—any excuse.

But he was already one step ahead of you.

“You don’t have Debate. Or Yearbook Committee,” he added knowingly. “And I don’t have practice today.”

You exhaled sharply. Damn him for remembering your fake clubs.

“…Sure,” you murmured, defeated.

He smiled again and reached for your backpack, tugging the straps gently off your shoulders so he could carry it for you—like he always did. Like nothing had changed.

The two of you fell into step, walking side by side. Your arms brushed once. Then again. Each time, a jolt of electricity shot up your spine.

“So,” he said after a pause, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, “did you get an A?”

You blinked. “What?”

“The math test,” he clarified. “You were stressing about it for, like, a week. Mr. Kim probably handed it back by now. I’m assuming my smart girl did well?”

Your lips parted slightly.

He remembered?

A slow smile tugged at your lips. “First in class,” you announced proudly. “Take that, Jake Sim.”

Heeseung laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Good. Someone’s got to put him in his place.”

Then, without warning, he reached over and ruffled your hair. “Proud of you.”

Your heart launched itself into your throat.

His fingers lingered a moment too long, just enough to make you dizzy before pulling away like nothing had happened. Like your world hadn’t just turned upside down.

Typical Heeseung.

You were just trying not to propose.

At the crosswalk, as the light turned red, he reached out again—this time gently guiding you by the elbow, pulling you closer to him.

“There was a bike coming,” he said, eyes on the road ahead.

You squinted. The bike was a speck in the distance. Miles away.

But his hand stayed there.

Just resting.

Light. Thoughtless. Careful.

You swallowed hard.

If he was going to keep doing things like this, you needed revenge. You needed balance. You needed him to second-guess everything the way you did.

So you stopped walking and tugged his arm slightly.

Heeseung turned, confused. “What’s wr—”

And then you stepped in.

Too close.

Your fingers reached up, brushing against the base of his neck as you adjusted the collar of his uniform. It was crooked—only slightly—but you took your time, smoothing the fabric with slow, deliberate movements.

Your knuckles grazed his skin.

He inhaled sharply.

His shoulders stiffened.

And suddenly, the effortlessly charming Lee Heeseung looked completely out of his depth. Like you were the one throwing him off balance now.

His gaze dropped—eyes flicking from your face, to your lips, then quickly back up again.

Heeseung swore he could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

You finished adjusting his collar and smiled up at him—soft, proud, just a little smug.

“There,” you murmured, patting it into place. “All fixed.”

He blinked.

Swallowed.

“…Thanks,” he managed, voice lower than usual, a little hoarse.

And then because apparently his brain had melted, he turned on his heel and walked ahead a little too quickly.

“Slow down!” you called after him with a grin. “Not all of us have basketball player legs, you know.”

He didn’t answer, but you could see the tips of his ears turning red.

—

The walk home with Heeseung did something to you.

Something bad.

You missed him more than you thought you would. Not in a soft, quiet way—but in a way that gnawed at your chest like a small, aggressive squirrel.

Everything reminded you of him. A fork. A book you’d never read. Even Jay’s left toe (don’t ask, you didn’t know why either). You couldn’t stop thinking about him—his laugh, the way his eyes sparkled when he was excited, the little way he tilted his head when he was listening.

You were, quite frankly, losing it.

Your Lee Heeseung withdrawals were at an all-time high.

Every time you saw him across the room or heard someone say his name, your heart did a thing and your brain spiraled like a bad romcom montage. You were whiny. Pathetically so.

Jay, ever the long-suffering saint, was reaching his limit.

You clung to his jacket sleeve dramatically, voice pitched high with despair. “I can’t do this, Jay. I miss him so much. Why is this so hard?”

Jay gave you a deadpan look that could only be described as emotionally done. With a sigh that came from the depths of his soul, he turned and made a beeline toward the shop’s earplug section.

“If you don’t just tell him how you feel,” he muttered, “I’m going to lose my entire mind.”

You chased after him, still attached to his sleeve like a ghost with commitment issues. “But I can’t! He doesn’t even like me like that!”

Jay stopped in front of the shelf, scanning the rows of earplugs like he was shopping for peace. “What if he does, huh?” he shot back, a little too fast. “This whole walk home story you just told me—it doesn’t sound like nothing.”

You froze. The words you’d overheard days ago came rushing back: She’s cute. A great friend. But I don’t see her that way.

The echo of it still stung.

You let go of Jay’s sleeve and crossed your arms, suddenly quiet. “I heard him, Jay,” you said softly. “He told Jake I was just a friend.”

Jay looked at you. Really looked at you.

And then he grinned.

“Are you laughing at me right now?” You smacked his arm, thoroughly offended.

“It’s just—” he choked back a laugh. “I could’ve sworn that guy was practically drooling over you.”

You scowled. “Well, clearly you’re wrong.”

Jay shook his head, dramatically dropping a pair of foam earplugs into the basket. “Okay, look. So what if he said that? Guys say dumb things all the time. Heeseung’s probably still catching up to his own feelings.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Come on. You’re not the type to wait around forever. If you like him, say something. Stop pretending you don’t care.”

You groaned. “Fine, fine! I’ll think about it.”

“You’ve been thinking about it for three years,” Jay replied, clearly unimpressed.

You crossed your arms and pouted. “You don’t get a say.”

“Oh, but I do.” He popped the earplugs into his ears with a triumphant smirk.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered.

Jay tilted his head dramatically. “Sorry, what was that? Can’t hear you over the peace I bought for $2.99.”

—

That night, Heeseung lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to all of life’s biggest questions.

Unfortunately, it did not.

He shifted. Then again. Then once more for dramatic effect. The blanket felt too warm. The pillow was suddenly too flat. Everything was wrong.

But mostly? It was the thoughts. You.

The walk home played on a loop in his mind, like a scene from a movie he couldn’t turn off. He could still feel how close you’d stood to him, the way your arm brushed his, how your fingers had grazed his neck when you fixed his collar. The soft sound of your laughter still echoed in his ears. It was... cute.

Too cute.

Heeseung sighed and rolled onto his side, shoving his face into the pillow.

You had always been his best friend. His safe person. You were fun and loud and comfortably chaotic. You made everything feel easy. But lately, being around you hadn’t felt easy—it felt... intense. 

And ever since Jake had made that dumb “are you dating” comment, the idea had rooted itself in his brain like a stubborn weed. He tried to shake it, but it kept growing. Fast.

He used to think about you in a simple way—someone he could count on. Someone who’d be there with snacks and jokes and glittery signs with his name. But now?

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about the tiny flecks of color in your eyes. Or how your laugh made his chest feel tight. Or how you’d smiled up at him after fixing his collar like you had no idea he was short-circuiting.

He groaned again and rolled onto his stomach.

This was bad. He was in trouble.

—-

Across town, in a room filled with fluffy pillows and heartbreak, you were also wide awake.

Staring at the ceiling. Then the wall. Then your blanket. Then the ceiling again.

You sighed and ran your fingers over the threads of your comforter like they held answers the universe refused to give.

Everything reminded you of Heeseung. Your school notes. Your chipped nail polish. The way your lamp was slightly tilted—he was the one who’d knocked it over during your last movie night.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Was this what pining felt like? Not just the longing or the ache—but the sheer, annoying presence of him in everything? Your brain had become a highlight reel of his smiles, his voice, his laugh. It was embarrassing.

Still… there was a part of you that wondered.

Maybe he felt it too.

You weren’t imagining it, right? The way he looked at you lately—like he was really seeing you. The way his fingers had lingered on your arm a little longer than necessary. The way he had remembered your test, remembered your nerves, and had been genuinely proud of you.

Your heart did a stupid, hopeful little flutter.

But the thought of confessing? Saying it out loud?

You rolled onto your side and buried your face in a pillow.

What if it changed everything? What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he looked at you like you were ridiculous—or worse, like you were just some girl with a dumb, one-sided crush?

Still.

What if he did feel something?

You both lay in your beds that night, across the city, wrapped in your own blankets and your own thoughts—completely unaware that the other was doing the exact same thing.

Thinking about you.

Thinking about him.

—

“Hey, look who it is!” Jake nudged Heeseung with his elbow, already grinning like a devil who’d spotted drama on the horizon.

You looked up, eyes widening as you spotted the two of them heading toward you. There was no time to escape. No possible exits. Just Heeseung, Jake, and a hallway suddenly way too small.

You and Heeseung locked eyes.

And just like that, the walk home replayed itself in your head. The brush of his hand against yours. The weight of your bag over his shoulder. The way he’d looked at you when you smiled at him. You swallowed.

“Uh… hey,” you said, lifting a small, awkward wave. Your voice came out two pitches too high, like someone had sat on the remote.

“Hey,” Heeseung replied, mirroring your stiffness with a half-hearted wave of his own. He was smiling, kind of, but it was tight—uncertain. His heart was pounding. His brain? Completely blank.

Jake, of course, was having the time of his life. “Wow,” he said cheerfully. “This is fun.”

“I—I have to go to the restroom!” you blurted, pointing wildly in the wrong direction before fleeing like a sitcom character mid-episode.

Heeseung stood there, watching you disappear around the corner, every nerve in his body buzzing. His legs felt like jelly. His chest? Tense. His thoughts? Loud.

By the time he stumbled into the locker room, he collapsed dramatically onto the floor like a man defeated.

“I think…” he muttered into the floor, “I might have feelings for her.”

Jake, already sprawled on the coach’s beanbag, didn’t even flinch. He was too busy chewing on a piece of licorice to care.

“Oh, welcome to the club,” he said, voice muffled. “I’ve been a member since the year you told her she looked pretty in green face paint during our third-grade Wicked play.”

Heeseung didn’t react. He just stood up and started pacing—back and forth, back and forth—like his thoughts might rearrange themselves if he walked hard enough.

“I—no, I really like her, Jake.”

Jake raised a hand lazily, like a talk show host mid-monologue. “Please. Continue. This is riveting.”

“I just... I don’t get it. I didn’t realize it before, but now? Now I can’t stop thinking about her. Everything reminds me of her. Like, she fixed my collar yesterday and I think I blacked out for a second.”

Jake popped another licorice into his mouth. “Gross. Cute. But gross.”

“I feel like,” Heeseung continued, running a hand through his hair, “when she’s around, everything just makes sense. And when she’s not? It’s like something’s missing. It’s stupid.”

“Cringe,” Jake said dramatically, slumping deeper into the beanbag. “Do all crushes feel this emotionally inconvenient? If so, I want out.”

Heeseung shot him a glare. “Are you ever helpful?”

“Emotionally? No,” Jake said with a straight face. “But I do hand out brutal honesty like candy.”

Heeseung groaned, flopping onto the bench next to him. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I tell her and she— I don’t know—ghosts me?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. You’ve been losing your mind for days because she didn’t bring you water after practice. You have hands. Hydrate yourself.”

Heeseung let out a pained noise and buried his face in his hands.

“Just tell her,” Jake said with a shrug. “Worst case, she doesn’t feel the same. But I’m 99.7% sure she does.”

“Oh yeah?” Heeseung muttered into his palms. “And what if I look like an idiot?”

Jake leaned back, tossed a licorice stick in the air, and caught it with practiced ease. “Buddy, you already look like an idiot. Might as well make it romantic.”

Heeseung lifted his head just enough to glare at him.

Jake grinned. “Start simple. Tell her she’s cute. That’s it. It works. Trust me.”

Heeseung blinked. “That’s it? Just ‘you’re cute’?”

Jake nodded. “You’d be shocked how well that lands when you mean it.”

Heeseung stared at him, unconvinced. “You’ve said that to how many people?”

Jake smirked. “Doesn’t matter. It’s worked every time. I am very charming.”

Heeseung groaned again. “I’m not you, Jake.”

Jake sighed dramatically. “Yeah, I know. Which is why this is a 50-50 shot for you. But hey—if you don’t end up with her, can I ask her out?”

Heeseung shot him a death glare.

“Just kidding,” Jake said quickly. Then he paused. “Mostly.”

—-

It all started during lunch.

Jake leaned across the table, eyes gleaming with evil genius energy. “Operation ‘Make Them Walk Home Together So They Finally Kiss or at Least Make Prolonged Eye Contact Without Panic’ is officially in motion.”

Jay blinked. “That's… a terrible name.”

Sunghoon took a bite of his sandwich. “I kinda love it.”

Jake waved a hand. “Name pending. Point is—we trap them. She thinks she’s walking with you two. He thinks he’s walking with me. And then? We disappear. Vanish. Leave them alone. Together. With no backup.”

Jay tilted his head. “And what? Hope the romantic tension forces a confession?”

Jake smirked. “Exactly.”

Sunghoon raised a brow. “This feels like emotional entrapment.”

“It is. And it’s working,” Jake said proudly. “Heeseung’s got it so bad he thought she had a thing for you.”

Sunghoon choked. “Me?”

Jay snorted into his drink. “You do ruffle her hair a lot.”

“Because she’s cute! Like a little puppy!” Sunghoon exclaimed, scandalized.

Jake shrugged. “Well, he’s spiraling. Yesterday he saw you hand her a pen and he went silent for ten whole seconds.”

Sunghoon blinked. “That’s... tragic.”

Jay leaned back in his chair, visibly entertained. “I’m in. For the record, not because I care, but her whining is starting to affect my appetite.”

“Same,” said Sunghoon. “We were on FaceTime for 2 hours and most of it was about Heeseung. I fell asleep after 10 minutes.”

Jake clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Gentlemen, you know your roles. Subtle distraction, coordinated exit, zero guilt.”

Jay raised a brow. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I’ve earned it,” Jake said, already standing. “He stole my last banana milk. This is revenge and service to the nation.”

—-

“Crap,” he muttered. “I forgot my earbuds in the music room.”

Jay snapped his fingers. “Oh shoot. Me too. I left my jacket in the library.”

You raised a brow. “You two always forget things at the same time.”

They both grinned. Suspiciously.

“It’s twin telepathy,” Jay said, winking.

“You’re not twins,” you deadpanned.

“We are in spirit,” Sunghoon added, already stepping backward toward the school building.

Before you could protest, they were both jogging away, waving casually.

“We’ll catch up!” Jay called over his shoulder.

“We swear!” Sunghoon added.

You stood there for a moment, blinking in confusion. “...Okay?”

Then you turned around.

And there he was.

Heeseung.

Standing a few feet away, also holding his bag, looking around like he had just been ditched by someone.

Your eyes met.

Both of you froze.

Heeseung blinked. “Wait… where’s Jake?”

“I... thought he was with you?”

He furrowed his brows. “He texted me like five minutes ago saying we’d walk home together.”

You glanced down at your phone, where a suspiciously vague message from Sunghoon read: “Don’t wait for us. You got this.”

Your stomach dropped.

You looked back up at Heeseung. His phone buzzed. He checked it, then looked at you with slowly widening eyes.

Jake’s message: “Have fun ;)”

There was a beat of silence.

You both stood there.

Just you.

And Heeseung.

And an entire empty sidewalk.

“Oh,” you said softly.

Heeseung scratched the back of his neck. “So... I guess we’re walking together.”

You gave a weak laugh. “Guess we are.”

Silence.

Then, at the exact same time:

“You don’t have to if—” “We can walk separately if—”

You both stopped.

Then laughed.

And for a moment, just a moment, the awkwardness melted. Heeseung smiled—not his usual big grin, but something softer. Warmer. Like he wasn’t so mad about being ditched.

“Let’s just walk,” he said. “Might as well.”

And even though your heart was pounding and you were still very much aware that your so-called friends had just shoved you into a live wire of unresolved tension...

You nodded.

“Yeah. Okay.”

So you walked.

Side by side.

You weren’t sure how Jay and Sunghoon managed to get you walking next to Heeseung but you were sure it had something to do with Heeseung’s ratty friend Jake.

Heeseung shuffled beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to ignore the weird tension in the air. You, on the other hand, kept your eyes fixed on the road ahead, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came out. It was funny how just a few days ago, this silence would’ve been comfortable—soft, even. But now it felt a little too loud. A little too full.

Suddenly, Heeseung’s foot caught on a small rock, and before he could stop it, he stumbled forward, arms flailing like one of those inflatable tube men outside a car dealership.

“Hee!” you yelped, half-laughing, half-panicked.

Heeseung straightened up, cheeks flushed, but laughing anyway. “Oh, so now you’re laughing at my near-death experience?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—are you okay?” you teased, though you made no effort to hide your giggles.

“Yeah,” he nodded, brushing imaginary dust off his knees. “Just bruised my pride, that’s all. I think the rock has a vendetta.”

The laughter between you settled, but the tension lingered like steam on a bathroom mirror. You shifted on your feet, exhaling softly. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird. I’ve just been… going through some stuff.”

Heeseung tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What kind of stuff?”

You shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” he nudged your shoulder gently. “You used to tell me everything. Even the time you cried because your goldfish ignored you for two days.”

“Nugget was emotionally manipulative,” you mumbled.

Heeseung grinned. “Still, I miss that. Not Nugget—just... when you talked to me.”

Your cheeks burned. You ducked your head. “It’s just... a little personal.”

Heeseung narrowed his eyes playfully. “Like, family personal? Friends personal? Or…” He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was about to drop a bombshell. “Boy problems?”

You cleared your throat, refusing to meet his eyes. “I guess… the last one?”

He went still beside you.

“Oh…” he said, and his voice had that very specific tone guys get when they’re trying to sound neutral but are actually spiraling.

“So you’re going out with someone?”

“What?! No!” You waved your hands frantically. “I just… I don’t know. It’s stupid. I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“Oh, come on. Please?” he stopped in his tracks, grabbing both your hands in his and squeezing them dramatically. “I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t know. Think of my well-being.”

You sighed, glancing away. “Fine. It’s just… I think I like someone, and I’m not sure how to tell him.”

Heeseung swore he felt his soul leave his body. You liked someone? Was it… Was it that no-good, pretty-boy Park Sunghoon? Heeseung should’ve stuck with ballet when he was five. Or maybe joined drama. Something, anything, to compete.

“Is it Sunghoon?” he asked before he could stop himself.

You blinked at him, then let out a laugh that was way too loud for the empty sidewalk. “Ew?! No!”

He looked utterly baffled. “What? You’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately, and he’s always ruffling your hair and whatever.”

“He’s just a friend, Hee,” you said gently. But when your eyes dropped to the pavement, something about it made his stomach twist.

A silence settled between you before Heeseung cleared his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Well… you should just tell him.”

You raised a brow. “Oh, should I?”

He nodded, trying to keep his tone even. “Yeah. You’re... pretty. Funny. Smart. If he doesn’t like you back, then he’s probably an idiot. Or stupid. Or a fool.” He paused. “Or all three. Simultaneously.”

You snorted. “Funny you’d say that.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing!” You waved it off. “What about you? What would you do if you liked someone?”

Heeseung hummed, pretending to think. “I’d probably always wanna hang out with them. Walk them home.”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“Have them at all my basketball games. Cheering me on.”

“Right, you wouldn’t want your girlfriend missing those,” you mused.

He nodded solemnly. “Yeah. And it’d totally suck if she stopped showing up to practice too. Especially when the whole team’s used to seeing her in the bleachers... eating snacks loudly.”

“I see how that would suck,” you said, biting your lip to hide a grin.

“I’d also wanna protect her. From oncoming bikes. Sudden rainstorms. Teachers who give pop quizzes.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Protect her from quizzes? What is this, magical girlfriend armor?”

Heeseung smirked. “Exactly. I’d be her human shield.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was thudding in your chest.

“And in case she’s, I don’t know... absolute trash at directions?” he continued. “I’d wait for her. Walk her home. Walk her wherever she wanted to go. Be her personal GPS. And not even charge her.”

You muttered, “Wow. What a bargain.”

“I’d also probably carry her bag,” he added, like it was a casual afterthought—as if he wasn’t literally carrying yours right now.

You puffed your cheeks, trying to play it cool. “Okay, let’s move on to the next topic.”

“I kinda like this topic, though.”

“We get it. You’ll treat her like a princess,” you mumbled.

Heeseung laughed. “How are you not getting it?”

“Getting what?”

“Alright, fine. Let’s make it easier.” He took a deep breath and started counting on his fingers. “Who has never missed a single one of my basketball games?”

You squinted. “Uh... Jake?”

He facepalmed. “Someone not on the team.”

“Me?” you blinked. “I don’t under—”

“Who has no sense of direction?”

“Me?”

“And who always helps that person find their way?”

“You?”

He gave you a flat look. “So... do you catch my drift?”

You stared at him blankly. “No?”

He groaned. “Okay. Last question. Whose bag am I carrying right now?”

“…Mine?”

He smiled at you, exasperated and fond. “Exactly.”

Your heart pounded in your chest like it was trying to make a dramatic exit.

So, hesitantly, you whispered, “What are you saying?”

Heeseung let out a breath, dragging a hand through his hair. Then, like it physically hurt him to keep it in a second longer, he blurted, “For god’s sake, I’m telling you I’m in love with you.”

Your breath caught.

“I. Love. You,” he repeated, staring at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh.”

Heeseung groaned loudly, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh? That’s it? After all that?!”

“I—I mean—” You sputtered, brain rebooting. “I didn’t think—”

“God, you’re so dense,” he muttered, but the way he said it was so soft it made your knees weak.

You swallowed. “Say it again.”

He paused, then leaned in slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I love you.”

You grinned, cheeks on fire. “Good. Because the guy I like is you.”

Heeseung blinked. “Yeah. I know.”

Your jaw dropped. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, but I kinda figured when you started scowling after the third time I described how I’d treat my ‘potential girlfriend.’”

You let out a groan, covering your face. “Ugh.”

He laughed, slinging an arm over your shoulders like he’d been waiting years to do that. “It was cute. You’re cute.”

“You can’t blame me for overthinking when you—YOU!” You jabbed a finger at him. “You told Jake I was just a friend!”

Heeseung froze, eyes wide. “You heard that?!”

You nodded—hard. “Word for word. ‘She’s cute, a great friend, but I don’t see her that way.’ Ring any bells?”

He winced like he’d just been personally attacked by a ghost of his own idiocy. “Okay, wow. That sounded so much worse than I meant—”

“You think?” you snapped, crossing your arms tightly. “Do you know what it’s like to hear the person you’ve liked for years say something like that? To be standing there, holding your dumb varsity jacket like some lovesick intern, while you laugh at the idea of liking me?”

Heeseung opened his mouth, but you weren’t done.

“You don’t get to say you love me now and expect it to just erase that.”

His face dropped. For a moment, he looked completely lost for words—completely unlike the smug, charming boy who used to ruffle your hair and make your heart do gymnastics.

“I know,” he said finally, voice soft. “I know I messed that up. I thought... if I said it out loud, it’d make it less real. That if I kept calling you my best friend, I wouldn’t have to deal with how badly I wanted more.”

You blinked, arms slowly falling to your sides.

“I didn’t get it until you weren’t there,” he continued, gaze fixed on yours. “Until I looked for you everywhere and hated that you weren’t looking for me back. That you weren’t smiling at me like you used to. That you started smiling at Sunghoon instead—who, by the way, I totally thought you had a crush on, which sent me into a minor emotional spiral.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself. “You spiral?”

“I laid on the locker room floor for twenty-five minutes while Jake threw licorice at my face.”

That image alone almost broke your resolve.

Almost.

“I need you to know,” Heeseung said, his voice gentler now, “I was scared. But that doesn’t make it fair to you. And I don’t expect you to forget it overnight. But I meant what I said. I love you. Stupidly. Probably too much. And I’ll wait for you to believe that.”

You stared at him. And he stared back—like he didn’t mind if you took a second or an hour or a whole year to respond. As long as you were looking at him again.

Your heart beat so loud, you were almost sure he could hear it.

You swallowed. “Dropping the L-word before our first date is kinda crazy.”

Heeseung gave a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Right. Sorry. I should’ve started with ‘like.’”

You looked down at the ground, then back up at him.

And smiled—softly, finally. “No. I like crazy.”

---

park sunghoon fic recs! part 2 ✮

✮ YOU(R SHOELACES) ARE PRETTY. - @hannie-dul-set (secondhand embarrassment because sunghoon doesn't know how to to talk to cute people.)

✮ IRRESISTIBLE ⌇ PSH - @boyfhee

✮ ❛BIRTHDAY BOY!❜ ( p. sunghoon ) - @luvyeni (giving the birthday boy a few birthday wishes)

✮ Park Sunghoon || in which he’s desperate… - @lololololchips (in which he’s desperate and does everything his dream girl tweets about)

✮ 박성훈 、SECRET NEVER KEPT - @boyfhee (sunghoon likes getting detentions.)

✮ ━━━ 𑁤 close to you thought … - @uolarieclosed

✮ シ ───── 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 ! - @naomiarai (in which you get high with your boyfriend.)

✮ perv!sunghoon - @urlovebot (sunghoon does your laundry so: panty sniffing.. and licking, possessiveness, exhibitionism, praise, overstim, hands free orgasm again (?), dry humping but solo (???), sunghoon creams his pants twice lmfaoooo what a loser.)

✮ fatal trouble - @gyuuberryy (your roommate is hot. really really hot. and odd too. really really odd. after a strange experience with him, you slowly start distancing yourself from him. but, it becomes exceptionally hard with your feelings coming in the way. how are you supposed to protect yourself if you can’t resist him? the answer is you don’t need to. your fates are intertwined and there's no letting go.)

✮ 𝜗𝜚   ॱ˖ 𝐴 𝐵𝑜𝑦 𝑊ℎ𝑜’𝑠 𝐽𝑎𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐾𝑖𝑛𝑑 - @lovhrin (sunghoon being your jacked and kind bf based on the tiktok trend)

✮ attention, please ! - @fqirysim (𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦-- 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞; 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐛𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐦, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞.)

✮ Moonstruck — P.SH ✧.* - @cyberpunkgyu (when your boyfriend won’t stop staring at you or sunghoon falling deeply in love)

✮ professor!sunghoon - @pompvdding

✮ ( 성훈 ) — 11:59pm - @neos127

✮ （ 标题 ） BILLIARD LESSON. - @okwonyo (he is willing to do anything as long as you ask.)

✮ STRAWBERRY LOLLY - @vampjaeyun (However, one aspect that stands out on this particular day is the sugary rock between the lips he loves so much. God, Sunghoon practically busts at the sight.)

✮ lemonade - @heehoonies (sunghoon is absolutely infatuated by his step sister, and he knows his best friends, jay and jake, both want a taste. sunghoon shows them they can touch, but only with his permission.)

✮ MOONSTRUCK , ⋆｡°✩ 𓈒𓈒 crazy over you - @xoamiiren (In which, sunghoon’s feelings for you start to feel like more than he can handle…)

✮ JEALOUSY - @hoonigiris

✮ traditionally nontraditional | park sunghoon - @jayparked (newly married, you and your husband love creating your own...unique traditions)

✮ ❝ DON’T WAKE DAD ❞ — ✿ 𝐏.𝐒𝐇 ׅ ㅤ֢ ㅤׄㅤ . - @chlorinecake (Sunghoon was your stepbrother, and ever since your two fractured families merged into one, he’s had feelings for you. Deep down, he knows the attraction is wrong, but the taboo of it all only made it more addicting to him…)

✮ got me looking for attention - @i2ycat (actor sunghoon who is completely and utterly infatuated with you — his celebrity crush)

✮ THE LOOK IN HIS EYES ─── P.SUNGHOON - @miumura (sunghoon is assigned with the task to accompany you at a party — however, one slight problem, you’re barely enjoying your time around him. so, as his job, he feels the need to fix that.)

✮ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎੭ ATTENTiON ! ───── ❨성훈❩ - @yeokii (sunghoon is desperate to get your attention and he'd apparently go to some lengths to get it !)

✮ grocery store receipts (sunghoon) - @paarksunghoon (your hot neighbor seems to have everything you don’t: charm, confidence, and a sense of direction in life. you’ve managed to keep to yourself in the time you’ve lived across from his apartment but the holiday season brings brings out unresolved feelings, and you find that the best present of all has always been standing right in front of you.)

✮ LITTLE BIT OF AFFECTION 박성훈 ᥫ᭡ - @pshaven (as your manager, sunghoon has to ensure all your needs are met and that you’re performing at your absolute best. but when your ex turns out to be the director of your newest project, you’re not doing your best. it’s his job to guarantee that this never happens again. (ib the manhwa, muse on fame!))

---

THIS IS EVERYTHING!!!! LOVE THIS!!

my biggest opp - reader x ni-ki

warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.

"suck my dick." "eat my ass."

you and ni-ki exchanged filthy words to each other at the same time, your voices were sharp and loud enough to turn your other coworkers heads. and even though they had long grown accustomed to your rivalry, they always still look at the two of you in shock.

it's like the office practically lived in fear whenever the two of you were around,

and it got to a point where the HR was already forced to intervene.

you both found yourselves sitting across from a visibly exhausted HR rep after a particularly heated argument during a department-wide meeting.

"l/n, nishimura... this is really out of control." they said while rubbing their temples. "you're sabotaging projects, disrupting meetings, and making the workplace hostile."

"tell her that. she started it." ni-ki pointed out.

you rolled your eyes.

"effective immediately, you're being reassigned to different departments."

and it should've ended there but somehow, despite being on separate teams, you both still found ways to make each other's lives miserable. you found loopholes and more ways to sabotage each other without making it obvious.

ni-ki took every ounce of restraint not to strangle you, and you might've run him over in the parking lot already if it weren't for security cameras around the building.

that late night, the office was already empty. you thought everyone had clocked out except for you.

you were also ready to leave, your bag is already over your shoulder but something was missing.

the important file, you knew you had just printed it.

"looking for this?"

it was the first time you saw ni-ki again. he's standing across the room, holding the folder between his fingers with a serious expression.

your stomach dropped. no fucking way.

"you're so fucking dead," he shook his head. "say goodbye to your career."

"gi-give me that!"

he held it high, stepping back when you tried to take it.

you almost had it but he made it more out of reach.

the folder has the confidential criteria of the next manager promotion, he knew you're a bad person but he didn't know that you'll just fucking cheat.

"yes, i'll give this back," he scoffed and nodded. "right to our manager."

your desperation turned to rage, that paper would literally ruin you. your eyes landed on a thick book sitting on a nearby desk, and you could've just explained and asked nicely to give it back but hell no, so you grabbed the hard thick book and threatened to swing.

ni-ki panicked, he looked around for a weapon of his own and in a split-second decision, he grabbed a cup off the desk and threw it at you...

very cold water splashed all over you and your clothes.

your jaw dropped. "you-"

"i- i didn't-"

then your foot slipped on the wet floor, ni-ki reacted fast, catching your head before you could crash to the ground but the momentum sent him stumbling too.

you groaned, his hands braced against the floor to keep himself from completely crushing you and next thing you knew, you were on the floor, your back against the cold tiles, and ni-ki was right on top of you, with his face buried on your tits.

he slowly moved, his eyes locked onto the view in front of him... your soaked blouse sticking to your skin, making your black bra and cleavage very much visible.

ni-ki cleared his throat before turning his head away from you. he was about to grab the scattered papers but you were quicker, you grabbed onto his collar, pulling him before he could escape.

"let go!"

"not a chance."

he struggled, trying to push you off but you were holding onto him so hard that the buttons of his shirt ripped, exposing his toned chest and abs.

you smirked slightly when you noticed ni-ki stopped pushing you away and his breaths became heavier.

he's still a guy after all.

your fingers roamed around his exposed chest, teasing him just to test something, to see if you could turn the tables,

you could feel his muscles tensed under your touch and ni-ki closed his eyes when you leaned close to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

the sound your lips made as they parted was too sexy so he leaned in to kiss you just to hear it again.

the kiss deepened, it became hurried, hard, aggressive, and messy.

like all his hate had nowhere else to go except right here.

ni-ki groaned against your lips, hands gripping on your waist.

you fingers slid down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin more beneath the open shirt again and before you knew it, you were helping him remove his shirt off completely, tossing it aside like it meant nothing.

"this is unbelievable." he thought, while his fingers worked hastily, unbuttoning each one from your blouse with urgency, making your heart race even more.

"you're impatient." you whispered, breathless.

"just wanna get this over with." he said before his lips crashed into yours to shut your annoying voice.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he easily lifted you, his other hand sliding down your back to remove your bra.

ni-ki watched the way your boobs bounce and spread free right in front of his eyes.

he lay you down on a nearby couch, removing your skirt and stockings so he can have you naked completely.

you arched on his touch but ni-ki grabbed your wrist and pulled you on top of him with no effort.

and even though you won't openly admit or say it, you knew everyone found your coworker is attractive but damn, he's this big too?

so now it made it harder to stop all this and it's been so long too since you had sex, you already forgot how it felt.

you watched ni-ki slicked himself with his own spit, barely easing what was about to come because just as you suspected, the stretch really hurts.

maybe it just the tip but it was already too much. your nails dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto.

ni-ki started moaning, his entire body tensing as he felt the way your walls squeezed around him. it's so tight, so impossibly hot too like you were already milking him for everything he had and his cock's not even fully inside yet.

"fuck," he groaned, "you're sucking me in."

yes, ni-ki hates you and even though he wanted you to suffer for everything you did to him, he would never be cruel when it came to sex. his own self-control was also hanging by a thread, yet he still moved carefully, pushing in slow and deep, letting you feel every inch of him.

your head tipped back, moaning too as you adjusted to his size, tightening more around him involuntarily.

ni-ki smiled, probably the first time he did. "there you go," he thought, watching your reaction as he rolled his hips up to meet yours, slow while keeping your legs in it's place.

you couldn't even think now already, the way he filled you up, the way his body pressed against yours, it was overwhelming. your nails raked down his back as he picked up the pace, going deeper, and deeper that you just might pass out.

and when the pain faded into pleasure, your body moved on its own, you rolled your hips until you found a good rhythm, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down, to take his dick even deeper inside you.

ni-ki threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut as you rode him with no mercy, your warm, soaked walls dragging over his cock at a pace that was too much. it felt like he had no control anymore, he could barely think.

"y/n, slow down-" his voice broke, desperate and strained but you ignored him, rolling your hips even more fast because then maybe you'll get to see him snap.

his whole body was trembling beneath you, muscles tensed as his breath came out in sharp, ragged gasps. he already came once, and it had already been so deep inside you but you just wouldn't stop.

"you wanted to fuck me, right?" you taunted, your thighs were shaking from how much pleasure was coursing through your overstimulated body. "then just take it."

ni-ki buckled up into you too, he's so close again, teetering on the edge, but he refused to give in to your words.

"you- you're one to talk," he rasped, "when you're so fucking soaked."

and he was right, you could feel how drenched you were, could hear how messy and filthy it sounded every time your hips met his.

the pleasure became too much again, unbearable ache building deep inside you it felt like you're going to pee anytime soon, you pulled his hair for support as your rhythm started slowing down.

ni-ki noticed even through his dazed, wrecked state before smirking again. "gonna fall apart on me?"

his hands held your hips down, forcing his cock so deep inside you that your vision blurred, a sob tore from your throat as the pressure snapped, crashing through your body so intense that you couldn't even moan.

your lips parted, body trembling uncontrollably as you came hard on his lap.

you didn't know how but somehow now, he had you on your hands and knees, chest pressing against your back as he drove into you, relentless, unforgiving.

"n-no, fuck!" you sobbed, your arms nearly giving out as he buried himself inside you again and again, ni-ki's lips trailing over your shoulder, hot and ragged.

and your pussy clenched around him again, he started losing it.

his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling it to where your back can press against his chest, his other hand gripping on your throat.

he cupped your tits, you could feel his cock twitch inside you, the thrusts of his hips turned frantic as he chased his own release.

...now the office fell silent but the reality of what just happened started creeping in slowly between the two of you.

you reached for your discarded clothes, your limbs were feeling heavy as you clumsily pulled your skirt back on. ni-ki, still catching his breath, sat up to and started buttoning his ruined shirt though half the buttons were missing, making it completely useless.

then, he held something up between his fingers.

"can i keep these?"

your head turned towards him, eyes widening when you realized he was holding your panties.

you snatched it from his grip. "are you fucking sick in the head?" you hissed, slipping them back on as quickly as possible.

he just laughed and shook his head.

maybe he's sick, after all, he just slept with the worst person he ever knew.

next day you and ni-ki sat across from each other in the office, both unusually quiet. no bickering, no scheming, everything was just... gone.

your coworkers noticed but ignored it, just enjoying while it's happening.

ni-ki exchanged awkward glances with you before quickly looking away.

your lips were still tingling from last night. you swore that your body still felt him, and every time you move in your chair, the memories just keeps on flooding back to your head. "stop... please... oh, my god."

he wasn't doing any better too, he can't stop smiling and running a hand through his hair, his knee were bouncing under the desk every time his eyes landed on you.

then he caught you alone.

you were at the copy room, trying to focus on literally anything else when suddenly, you felt him.

ni-ki pressed up behind you, my dick misses you, is what he wanted to say. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

you blushed, your fingers were curling into the edge of the machine. "p- printing, what else?" you stuttered.

"y/n..." his hands found your waist, squeezing lightly. "you don't miss it?"

you swallowed hard before turning around to face him, "keep dreaming."

liar.

the asshole ni-ki you know would never say these things and if he did, the old you would've punch his mouth and punching it once once so you'd make sure it'll bleed.

so what happened?

"remember, i still got the files."

you hushed him, "give that shit back," you whispered.

he hummed, tilting his head. "it's at my house. you can come get it."

"just bring it here!"

"like i said," he dragged the word out, stepping closer, "come get it."

you still found yourself standing outside his apartment later that night even though knew it was probably a trap.

ni-ki opened the door, leaning against it with that same smug expression like he knew you'd be here... he's wearing nothing but a loose bathrobe.

you looked down. is he naked underneath? he's this pervert? then you quickly shook your head, forcing yourself to look back up. "where is it?"

he sighed, stepping aside to let you in. "hmm, i put it somewhere over there," he murmured.

you shoved him away before he could try anything, making him chuckle.

so you started searching, bending down to check under his sofa and through the mess on his coffee table.

ni-ki stood behind you, watching. no, he was checking you out.

his tongue slipped to wet his lips, looking at your ass and if he stared any longer, he knew his dick will get hard.

you stood and stomped your foot. "just give it back!"

ni-ki sighed and fixed his hair. "okay, fine!" he said, "i already shredded it. you don't have to worry."

"how do i know you're not lying?"

he didn't answer right away. instead, he leaned back against the armrest of the sofa, legs spreading slightly as he pulled you closer between them.

"because... you fucked me so good, i destroyed every single thing i have that could ruin you."

you swallowed hard, chest rising and falling hard as you look into his eyes then you looked down, and... oh.

his cock twitched beneath the thin fabric of his robe, already straining against it, making his arousal painfully obvious.

the air grew heavier as you both watched him get harder, completely shameless.

your lips parted slightly, heat creeping up your neck, but then you shot him a glare. "can you put some damn clothes on?"

ni-ki smirked, playing with the belt of his robe. "but you came all the way here…" he said. looking at you with his needy eyes.

he didn't finish his words, you just reached forward, curling your fingers around the soft fabric, and dragged it off his shoulders, inch by inch.

your eyes followed every reveal, his sharp collarbones, the defined lines of his shoulders, the smooth, lean muscle of his chest.

his eyes were locked onto your lips, red, and swollen from the night before. that's his doing and it looked so good.

his fingers traced along your jaw, his other hand gripping your waist as he captured your lips in a slow, deep kiss. his body was already hot beneath your touch, tense, waiting for you to take control and do him however you wanted.

you knelt between his spread legs, dragging your hand over his thighs, watching the way his muscles flexed under your touch.

you wrapped your fingers around his cock first, stroking him slow, letting your palm glide smoothly over him. his cock twitched in response with a shaky breath slipping past his lips.

you leaned in and pressed a slow, wet kiss to his tip. ni-ki's grip in your hair tightened but not pulling, just holding, like he needed something to ground him.

and when your lips wrapped around him, he lost all of his sense of control. you took him deeply that your cheeks were hollowing while letting your tongue glide over every inch of his dick.

you pushed even lower, forcing him down your throat, stretching yourself around him until your throat clenched, gagging as you choked when he hit the back of your mouth,

"more, more... more..." ni-ki bit his lip.

and you let yourself struggle, deep throathing his cock that spit started pooling at the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin, and all over your hands.

you heard him swore in Japanese under his breath so you can't help but chuckle, vibration sent another set of pleasure through him before you pulled away, letting his cock slip from your lips with a pop, thin strand of spit still connecting your mouth to his tip.

ni-ki's hips bucked, desperate for your mouth again but you just smirked, dragging your tongue along the side of his cock, slow and teasing, before wrapping your lips around him again... only to pull away the second he's about to cum.

"y/n- stop... that." he warned but you ignored it. instead, you just wrapped your hands around him, stroking him slow and lazy.

"you were close, right?"

"you think you're funny?" he panted.

you started sucking his dick passionately again, enough to make him think you were finally giving in but only to pull away again at the last second, lips barely brushing his tip, making him fucking ache.

his voice cracked, "you're so fucking evil-"

"you sound so desperate right now." you teased, dragging a single finger along his length, feeling how hot and hard he was in your grasp.

"you're not gonna make me cum?" ni-ki asked before pining your hands above your head, he had you completely spread out beneath him,

he's too far gone to even remember why he hated you in the first place.

and he went on you so hard that night, you couldn't even move the next day. you would fall the second you tried to stand, and the soreness between your thighs made you collapse back with a frustrated whimper.

a deep chuckle rumbled beside you, raspy from hours of groaning, moaning, and going crazy.

you glared at him weakly, when you tried again and failed, ni-ki carried you in his arms. you yelped, clinging to his shoulders as he carried you towards the bathroom.

he really did a number on you.

"think we can handle another round here?"

now he had your check pressed up against the cool, fogged-up glass of the shower. ni-ki's hands were everywhere, His large palms gripped the soft flesh of your tits, squeezing, pulling, and rolling your nipples between his finger, making your body arch back into him.

you just hoped that it wouldn't leave bruising prints on your skin.

you breathed hard, fogging up the mirror more, while your fingers kept slipping against the wet tile. ni-ki groaned against your shoulder, your fingers slipping against the tile for balance, wet slap echoing through the steam-filled bathroom.

"i could fuck you for days..." he declared, his teeth grazing your shoulder before he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His fingers dug into your hips, pressing you harder against the glass.

the water kept shifting from icy cold to blistering hot, and it's so hard to breath, like you were both drowning.

next morning, your body ached in ways you didn't think were possible, ni-ki groaned into the pillow beside you, his arm draped over your waist, refusing to move.

your phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably an alarm or a message about work. you glanced at the time, then at ni-ki, who peeked at you with a smile.

"we're not going in, are we?" he asked, still sleepy.

you sighed, already knowing the answer. "nope, i can't."

he grinned and rolled over, grabbing his phone to call in sick.

"i gotta go home."

he hummed, nuzzling against your neck. "mm. or you could just stay here with me."

his hand slid over your thigh.

"i'm so sleepy," you mumbled, voice muffled against the pillow.

ni-ki's fingers were already trailing down your side so you hissed.

"what?" he murmured against your shoulder, pressing a warm kiss there. "i'm just holding you."

"you're not."

sighed, eyes fluttering shut. "i need sleep."

...but he can fuck you back to sleep.

ni-ki hummed, pretending to think. he rolled on top of you, pinning you beneath his weight.

"just five minutes." he agreed, lips brushing your ear. "if not, i'm waking you up my way."

later, just as you were drifting into actual sleep, something heavy landed on the bed, startling you both awake.

your eyes snapped open, only to be met with a pair of little eyes glaring at you.

a dog.

a small, fluffy thing that was currently growling at you like you had personally offended it.

"what the?" he muttered, scrambling back. "oh, bisco..."

"your dog?"

"that's my child."

you blinked at him. "i didn't know you we-"

"yes," he replied, reaching to ruffle the dog's fur. "i'm a single father."

you squinted at him, then at the dog, who was still very much growling at you.

"oh, come on," you huffed, sitting up. "what's your problem?"

the dog barked in response, stepping protectively over ni-ki's chest. "bisco thought you were hurting me last night."

"excuse me?"

the dog growled again, and you shot ni-ki a glare. "are you gonna stop it?"

ni-ki reached out and pulled you against him, ignoring the dog's outrage.

"bisco," he called out, "you'll get used to her."

bisco did not look convinced. "i think it can sense your evil attitude," he teased, rubbing the dog's ears.

ni-ki looked completely at ease... messy hair, lips still a little swollen from earlier, and worst of all, smiling.

like actually smiling.

you swallowed hard, your face heating up.

was this really the same guy who had spent months making your life a living hell? the same guy who stole your reports, sabotaged your presentations, and threw every possible insult your way?

the same guy you swore you'd never tolerate, let alone you expect to wake up next to?

it really doesn't feel real.

you sat there feeling like your whole world just tilted sideways and yet, here he was, laughing softly as bisco licked his face, as if he wasn't the biggest opp you have.

ni-ki looked at you, "what?"

you scoffed, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over your head. "nothing..."

ni-ki only chuckled, moving closer, "tsk, don't tell me..."

and you kicked him under the blanket, smiling like an idiot.

a/n: i need to write smut better omfg, thank you @greenparties for this request. and if you're a MOA and BEOMGYU is your bias here's another coworker/enemies to lovers fic of mine: coworker || c. beomgyu x reader

マスターリストm.list

taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon @ziiao

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U + M3 = LOV3 — NISHIMURA RIKI ( THE SPINOFF )

SYNOPSIS — Nishimura Riki has gone through many things, for example, having his ex-girlfriend find out about his bad past with his ex-crush. With Jang Wonyoung now graduated, he is left alone with the girl he hasn’t spoken to in forever, you. However, that’s ruined once your council’s begin to hate each other. To make it worse, your oblivious classmate creates a math group chat and adds you two into it, leaving no other option aside from the two of you being forced to get along again, but surprisingly, that isn’t the case. Instead, it becomes a battlefield.

PAIRING — rival!riki x ex-crush-rival-fem!reader (ft. enhypen, woonhak and taesan from bnd, rei from ive, minju and moka from illit, haerin and danielle from njz, gyuvin and gunwook from zb1, yoonchae from katseye, asa from bm, yeojin from loossemble, intak and keeho from p1h, sakura from le sserafim, kyungmin from tws, wonbin and sohee from riize, seongmin from cravity, and yungyu from 8turn).

GENRE(S) — smau + written, crushes to strangers to rivals to lovers (omg that’s a lot), club rivalry, nonidol au, highschool au, slowburn, sports au, arts au, fluff, crack, and angst.

WARNING(S) — swearing, random timestamps, bantering, insults, kys/kms jokes, joking threats, more will be added.

STATUS — ongoing! (updates are mon and thurs)

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

MAKE SURE TO READ GOOD GRACES FIRST!

PROFILES › ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX

CHAPTER ONE — oh phew!

CHAPTER TWO — DANI MARSH

CHAPTER THREE — i have a bad feeling abt this

CHAPTER FOUR — U LITTLE SHIT

CHAPTER FIVE — hater alert (0.5k words)

CHAPTER SIX — what the FUCK

CHAPTER SEVEN — a pail of paint

CHAPTER EIGHT — 7 musketeers

CHAPTER NINE — club beef is real

CHAPTER TEN — a wild ride (0.5k words)

CHAPTER ELEVEN — #FeelingLeftOut

CHAPTER TWELVE — ON MY SOUL

CHAPTER THIRTEEN — …. there’s no fucking way

CHAPTER FOURTEEN — don’t cross this line (0.5k words)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN — i believe the shoe fits

CHAPTER SIXTEEN — Wtf have i done

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN — KEYWORD PREVIOUSLY .

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN —

CHAPTER NINETEEN —

MORE TO COME!

© JUYEOZ

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