mark who?

[Strawberries & cigarettes]

haechan x y/n | college au | short au | inspired by a song

INTRO: Do you ever get the feeling you know someone—really know them—even if you've never said a single word to each other?

That’s how it is with Haechan.

NOTE: not read proof

[I just want you to know who I am]

soulmates au | Mark lee x f!reader

INTRO: " and I give up forever to touch you" Is all I need to explain this short story

NOTE: This imagine is inspired by the song "Iris" by The Goo Goo Dolls.

—————

Soulmates.

In this world, everything revolves around soulmates.

On your 18th birthday, a small tattoo appears on your wrist — a clue to guide you to your other half.

If you can't find them within five years, the universe steps in, etching their full name into your skin, giving a final chance.

But fate isn’t always kind.

If you still can’t find them, or if they’re no longer alive, your heart protects itself the only way it can. It strips you of every emotion, leaving you numb to the world.

—————

It was a normal Tuesday.

The café buzzed with quiet conversations, the low hum of life moving on without you. The cold coffee in front of you sat untouched, the bitter liquid half-empty, half-full — a perfect reflection of how you felt. Or maybe, how you didn’t feel at all.

You lifted your gaze, watching the world through tired eyes. Couples lingered at tables, fingers intertwined, matching tattoos peeking out from beneath sleeves like little promises from the universe. Soulmates. Everywhere you looked, love clung to people like second skin, a reminder of what you never had.

It had been almost eight years. Eight years of searching, hoping, breaking. And still, you were alone.

The universe, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor. You traced your fingers over the faded star on your left wrist, the skin warm beneath your touch. Below it, a name curved along your bone in delicate ink: Mark Lee.

The name appeared three years ago, a lifeline you clung to with trembling hands. You tried. For two relentless years, you chased every lead, whispered his name like a prayer, hoping fate would answer. But fate stayed silent. And eventually, you stopped asking.

Now, the countdown pressed against your chest like a weight. In a few months, your time would run out, and whatever fragile piece of you still clung to hope would shatter. You’d wake up, and everything would be gone. No more sadness, no more longing. No more anything.

Maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Life had already unraveled beneath your feet. You lost your job. Friends faded away like ghosts. Each day bled into the next, an endless loop of empty routines. Maybe losing your emotions was just the final step — maybe the universe was doing you a kindness.

You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling around the coffee cup just to feel something, anything. The porcelain burned against your skin, but the ache was muted, distant. Like it didn’t really belong to you anymore.

Maybe it never did.

You looked at the watch on your right wrist, it was time to go back home. You stood up and after a few seconds you were already out.

The door swung shut behind you with a hollow thud, sealing in the hum of conversation and the clink of cups. Outside, the world was gray. The sky hung low, bloated with heavy clouds, and the air smelled like rain — sharp, metallic, inevitable.

You stepped onto the sidewalk just as the first drop hit your cheek, a cold kiss from the sky. Then another. And another. Within moments, the heavens split open, and the rain poured down in relentless sheets, drenching you in seconds.

You didn’t run. Didn’t flinch.

You just stood there, letting the water seep into your clothes, cling to your skin, blur the world around you. People rushed past, huddled under umbrellas, ducking into doorways, laughter and shouts echoing through the downpour. But no one noticed you.

Of course they didn’t.

You tilted your head back, eyes fluttering shut as raindrops slid down your face like mock tears. It had been so long since you’d cried, you almost forgot what it felt like. Maybe this was the closest you’d get.

The weight in your chest throbbed, an ache so familiar it almost felt like comfort. You pressed your hand against your wrist, fingers brushing over the inked name — Mark Lee — the letters raised like a scar.

Somewhere out there, he existed. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he was already gone, and you were mourning a ghost you never got to meet.

Maybe that was why the universe made you wait so long. To break you slowly, piece by piece, until you didn’t care anymore.

Until losing your emotions felt like mercy.

The rain clung to your lashes, blurred the streetlights into smudges of gold. You couldn’t tell if your chest felt heavy or hollow, only that something inside you was slipping, dissolving like sugar in water.

And still, you didn’t move.

Because standing there, soaked and shivering, with the name of a stranger etched into your skin, felt more real than anything had in years.

—————

You decided you were going to appreciate the world one last time before it faded away. Before the colors dulled, and the weight of existence slipped from your grasp. A few more days, and everything you’d ever felt — every scrap of joy, pain, and longing — would be gone.

And now, you were finally in Paris.

You wore a black dress, something delicate and simple, but you’d taken the time to fix your hair, to put on makeup. If this was your last chance to feel, to see beauty, you wanted to face it with grace.

The Musée d'Orsay hummed with quiet life, footsteps echoing against marble floors as visitors admired the art. You stood in front of Van Gogh’s Starry Night Over the Rhône, the deep blues and swirling stars pulling you in.

You traced the brushstrokes with your eyes, imagining his hands painting each one — the desperation, the need to pour his heart onto the canvas. Did he feel like this, too? Like his soul was slipping away?

The painting was beautiful, painfully so. It made your chest ache.

"It’s a pretty painting, isn’t it?"

The voice behind you was warm, low, and gentle enough to make your breath catch.

You turned slowly, and your heart nearly stopped.

He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Dark hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes — soft, dark, and deep enough to drown in — studied you with quiet curiosity.

"Indeed” you whispered, your eyes tracing the swirling night sky. "But… sad."

"Sad?" he echoed, stepping closer.

You swallowed, your fingers twitching at your side. "The stars are so bright, but they feel… unreachable. Like they’re shining for a world they can never touch." You exhaled shakily. "It’s lonely."

He was quiet for a moment, studying the painting like he was trying to see it through your eyes.

"I think the stars are hopeful” he said softly, his voice like a steadying hand. "They can’t touch the world, but they still light it up. Even if no one notices, they just… keep shining."

Your throat tightened. "Even if it doesn’t change anything?"

He nodded. "Even then."

You blinked back tears, staring at the painting until your vision blurred.

"I wish I could be like that” you whispered.

His voice dropped, gentle and almost unbearably kind.

"Maybe you already are."

He smiled, the kind of smile that felt like it could thaw something frozen inside you.

"You’re not from here, are you?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

You shook your head, words sticking to your throat.

"I’m Mark. Nice to meet you."

The world tilted.

Mark.

The name echoed through your skull like a thunderclap. Your pulse roared in your ears, your fingers curling into your dress as panic and hope collided so violently you thought you might shatter.

"I…" Your voice trembled. "I’m sorry if this sounds insane, but… can I ask your last name?"

His brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face.

"It’s Lee” he said slowly. "Why?"

The room blurred. The painting, the people, Paris itself — it all disappeared.

Mark Lee.

Mark Lee.

The name carved into your wrist like a cruel joke. The name you’d chased for years, across cities and continents, only to end up here, on the other side of the world, face to face with the stranger the universe had promised you.

Your chest caved, and tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them.

"Hi, Mark” you breathed, voice breaking. "I’m Y/N”

His entire body stiffened. His eyes, those gentle eyes, went wide with shock as his lips parted, struggling to form words.

"It’s you?" he whispered, barely believing it himself.

You nodded, the weight of years crashing down on you all at once. The failed searches, the hopeless nights, the slow descent into numbness. All of it had led here.

And he was real.

Mark exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding his breath for years. Without thinking, he reached for your wrist, his fingers brushing over the faded star tattoo. His touch was so careful, so reverent, like he thought you might disappear.

"I looked for you” he said, voice rough. "I thought I’d lost you."

Your heart shattered.

"I thought I’d never find you” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. "I thought I’d wake up and never feel anything again."

Mark let out a shaky laugh, swiping at his own damp face as he stared at you, overwhelmed.

"You found me” he whispered, like he was convincing himself. "We made it."

He pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could, and for the first time in years, you felt something other than despair.

[So close to what]

best friends to lovers au | haechan x f!reader

INTRO: your best friend is in love with you but you’re too scared of ruin the friendship to accept his feelings.

w. slightly suggestive

NOTE: Exam season is over and I finally have a little bit of time. How are you?

Do you guys prefer when I use the name Haechan or Donghyuck? Please let me know!

---------

"Did you hear?" Ryujin asked, leaning in with a knowing smirk.

"Heard what?" you replied, raising a brow.

"Hoseok wanted to ask you out—but Haechan stopped him."

"What?" You blinked, stunned.

Everyone knew about Haechan’s feelings for you. He never said it outright, but his actions spoke loud enough. From high school to university, he remained by your side—teasing, annoying, and somehow still your favorite person. You’d lost count of how many times you tried to strangle him, probably resembling Homer and Bart, yet you couldn’t imagine life without him. That’s exactly why you never acknowledged his feelings, and Haechan was smart enough never to say them aloud.

"Do you really not see him as more than a friend?" Ryujin pressed.

"Yes, I'm sure” you said firmly.

Well… that was going to change soon.

Especially that evening, you and Haechan were having your usual dinner night—something that had become routine ever since you recently moved in together near campus.

Coming back from work, you expected the usual - maybe Haechan napping on the couch or raiding the fridge before dinner. What you didn’t expect was to find Haechan shirtless, playing with your dog.

You’d seen him shirtless plenty of times before. But not since he started hitting the gym. And wow—he had changed. Broad shoulders, toned arms, defined abs. When did this happen?

You were too busy staring to realize he had caught you. He turned, amusement flickering in his eyes as he fought back a smirk.

“Oh, you’re back?” he said casually, like he hadn’t just sent your brain into overdrive. “I already prepped everything for dinner.”

“Oh? Mh—yeah, I—” Wait. Why did it suddenly feel hot? Was there no air in here?

“I’m just gonna take a quick shower first!” you blurted before bolting to the bathroom, your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

As you shut the door behind you, you swore you heard him chuckle.

Haechan 1 - 0 You.

By the time you stepped out of the shower, you had successfully convinced yourself that you were not affected by Haechan’s sudden gym-induced glow-up. You were just tired. Stressed. Hungry. That’s all.

You walked into the kitchen, determined to act normal, only to find Haechan already setting up the ingredients. His damp hair was pushed back, a few strands falling lazily over his forehead. The sleeveless shirt he threw on did absolutely nothing to hide the changes you were desperately trying to ignore.

"Feeling better?" he teased, glancing at you with that look—the one that always meant trouble.

You rolled your eyes and reached for the cutting board. "Just hand me the vegetables."

The two of you moved around the kitchen in a familiar rhythm, chopping, stirring, and sneaking bites of food when you thought the other wasn’t looking. Everything was fine—until you struggled with the knife, your hands slipping slightly on the carrot you were cutting.

Before you could react, Haechan was behind you. Right behind you.

"Here, let me help” he murmured, his chest just barely brushing against your back as he reached around you. His hands covered yours, guiding your grip on the knife.

You swore the temperature in the room shot up ten degrees.

"You’re holding it too loosely” he continued, his voice lower than usual. "You need to be firm."

Firm. Right. Firm grip. Not shaky hands. Not the overwhelming awareness of how close he was, how warm he felt, how good he smelled—why does he smell so good?!

"You okay?" he asked, his breath fanning against your ear.

No. Absolutely not.

"Yeah! Of course! Totally fine!" you blurted, stepping forward so fast you nearly knocked the bowl off the counter. "You know what? Maybe you should handle the cutting. I’ll just… stir."

Haechan watched you with amusement, the corners of his lips twitching upward. "You’re acting weird” he said, crossing his arms.

You grabbed the nearest spoon and pointed it at him. "I am not acting weird. You’re acting weird!"

He just chuckled, shaking his head as he picked up the knife again. "Whatever you say."

Haechan 2 - 0 You

And for the first time, you started to wonder if maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as immune to him as you thought.

-----

A road trip was long overdue. Ever since Haechan got his driver license, it had been your thing- just you, Haechan, the open road, a questionable playlist, the endless banter. Nothing had changed.

Or so you thought.

As you hopped into the car, adjusting your seat, Haechan shot you a lazy grin. “I got everything we might need so you can ride comfortably.”

You choked on air.

Ride comfortably?

Your head snapped toward him, but he was already looking straight ahead, fingers drumming against the steering wheel like he hadn’t just said that. Oh, this man was choosing his words very carefully these days.

“Oh?” You cleared your throat, narrowing your eyes. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Haechan turned to you, feigning innocence. “You know, snacks, pillows, a blanket in case you get cold—” He glanced at you, his smirk deepening. “Why? What did you think I meant?”

Your brain short-circuited.

“I—nothing. I just—shut up and drive” you muttered, yanking your seatbelt on as heat crept up your neck.

The car rumbled to life, and soon, you were cruising down the highway, music filling the space between you. But something was different. You could feel it in the air, thick and charged, every teasing glance from Haechan making it worse.

“So” he started, tapping his fingers against the wheel, “when are you gonna admit it?”

You frowned. “Admit what?”

“That you’ve been acting weird around me lately.”

Your grip on your drink tightened. “I have not—”

“You literally sprinted to the bathroom the other day after seeing me shirtless.”

Your jaw clenched. “I was hot.”

“Oh, I bet you were.”

Your head snapped toward him, and he was already grinning like he won some kind of game. You hated how smug he looked. You hated even more how right he probably was.

You exhaled sharply, turning your gaze back to the road.

Haechan 3 - 0 You

And this trip was far from over.

-----

The sky was drenched in deep oranges and purples as the road stretched endlessly ahead. The entire trip had been a game—one you were losing miserably. Haechan had been relentless, throwing teasing remarks and smug glances your way, collecting points without even trying.

But not this time.

You shifted in your seat, stretching your arms above your head with a casual sigh. “Ugh, I should’ve worn something lighter" you muttered, tugging at the neckline of your top just enough to draw attention. “It’s so hot in here.”

Haechan didn’t react at first, his eyes fixed on the road. But you caught it—the quick flicker of his gaze toward you, the subtle shift in his grip on the steering wheel.

Encouraged, you went in for the kill. “Maybe I should just take this off" you mused, fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt as if you were actually considering it.

That did it.

His knuckles went white against the wheel, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he exhaled slowly, like he was physically restraining himself.

Still, he said nothing.

The air inside the car grew thick with something different. No teasing comeback, no cocky remark. Just tension. Heavy, undeniable tension.

And that’s when you knew.

Haechan wasn’t winning this round. You were. You finally got a point.

A slow smirk crept onto your face as you leaned back, satisfied. “Hey, pass me the aux.”

For a second, he didn’t move. Then, finally, he let out a sharp breath, shaking his head with a disbelieving chuckle as he grabbed the cord and handed it to you.

“You’re so annoying” he muttered, gripping the wheel a little too tightly.

You grinned, plugging in your phone. “Something wrong?”

He scoffed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I hate you”

No, he didn’t.

Haechan 3 - 1 You

-----

The ride to Busan had been long. Five hours of charged silence, stolen glances, and the occasional throat-clearing that neither of you acknowledged. By the time you arrived, exhaustion was settling into your bones—but the universe clearly wasn’t done messing with you.

Because the moment you stepped into your Airbnb, you were met with a problem.

“A bed?” Your voice pitched slightly. “There’s only one bed?”

Haechan, standing behind you, blinked at the sight like he was just now realizing it.

You turned to him, arms crossed. “Haechan. You booked this place.”

“I didn’t know that!” he defended, throwing his hands up. “I just saw the good reviews and a nice view—how was I supposed to check that?”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. The tension had already been unbearable, and now, this? It was like karma was punishing you for something.

Still, you were exhausted. Arguing wasn’t worth it.

“I’ll order food" you sighed. “Go take a shower, you must be tired from all the driving.”

Haechan smirked as he grabbed a towel. “Try not to freak out during our honeymoon, sweetheart” he teased, throwing a wink before disappearing into the bathroom.

You picked up a pillow from the couch and chucked it at the door.

By the time he came out, hair damp and smelling annoyingly good, the food had arrived, and you were already eating. He plopped down across from you, stealing a fry off your plate without asking—typical.

For a while, there was just the quiet clatter of chopsticks and the hum of the TV in the background. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I’ll take the couch.”

You paused mid-bite, blinking at him.

Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. You should have felt relieved. You should have nodded and moved on. But instead, there was this stupid little twinge of… what? Disappointment?

No. Definitely not.

“Alright" you muttered, pushing your rice around with your chopsticks.

Haechan glanced at you, lips twitching like he was debating whether to say something. “Unless…” he started.

You looked up. “Unless what?”

He grinned, leaning his chin on his hand. “Unless you want me in bed with you.”

You stared at him. “I will smother you with a pillow.”

Haechan laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

You rolled your eyes, pretending the warmth in your face was from the food.

And the night was far from over.

-----

The tension from the car ride still lingered as you both got ready for bed. Haechan was setting up his spot on the couch, fluffing a pillow as if it would magically make it more comfortable. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching him.

He had driven for almost five hours straight. He deserved a comfortable bed—not a stiff couch—yet here you were, letting your ridiculous nerves and hormones get in the way.

What kind of awful person were you?

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Haechan."

He hummed in acknowledgment, not looking up.

You hesitated, then finally blurted, "Would you like to sleep with me on the bed?"

That got his attention.

Haechan froze mid-motion, blinking at you as if he hadn’t heard you correctly. "I’m sorry, what?"

You exhaled sharply. "I said: Would you like to sleep with me on the bed?"

A beat of silence. Then, "Are you sure?" His voice held an unusual hesitation, as if he didn’t quite believe this was happening.

"I’ll change my mind if you don’t jump on the bed in the next few sec—"

You didn’t even get to finish.

Haechan was already diving onto the bed, a satisfied grin on his face.

You rolled your eyes, shifting under the covers as he got comfortable beside you. It felt… strange. Too quiet. Too real. You both instinctively turned your backs to each other, but that only made it worse.

Minutes passed. Maybe an hour. But sleep never came.

You sighed softly, rolling over. "Haechan, are you awake?"

He turned too, now facing you in the dim light. "Yeah."

Your breath caught. Being this close, lying in the same bed—it was something entirely new. His face was barely a foot away, his eyes searching yours as if waiting for something.

He looked ethereal.

"Can I tell you something?" His voice was quieter this time, careful.

Your heartbeat stuttered. "Yeah."

He hesitated for only a second before saying, "I’ve liked you for a while."

The confession hit you like a slow-burning flame, creeping through your chest and spreading warmth and panic all at once.

"It could ruin our friendship…" you whispered.

"It won’t" he said immediately. "We will never break up."

There was no hesitation in his voice, no doubt. Just certainty. And for some reason, that certainty felt like the safest thing in the world.

"Do you feel it too?" he asked.

You swallowed hard, then nodded. "Yes."

Something shifted. The space between you felt smaller, your breaths mingling in the stillness of the room. Neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to.

And then, he kissed you.

It was soft at first, almost hesitant—like he wanted to take his time, like he wanted to memorize the way you felt. His lips moved against yours slowly, testing, savoring. But when you kissed him back, he exhaled against your skin, pulling you in just a little closer. His fingers brushed against your cheek, warm and steady, anchoring you in the moment.

The kiss deepened, unspoken emotions spilling into it—years of teasing, of unspoken tension, of lingering glances neither of you ever acknowledged. And now? Now it was undeniable.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your face.

Then, just as you thought the moment couldn’t get any more overwhelming, Haechan smirked.

"Oh, by the way," he murmured, "I did know there was only one bed"

Silence.

Your eyes widened. "You WHAT?!"

Before he could react, you shoved him, grabbing a pillow to physically wipe that smirk off his face.

Haechan burst into laughter, dodging your attacks. "Hey, don’t be mad! It worked, didn’t it?"

"YOU’RE UNBELIEVABLE!"

Still grinning, he caught your wrists, pulling you back down beside him with a chuckle. "Come on, sweetheart, you still feel like yelling at me?"

You huffed, glaring at him. But the warmth in his gaze, the lingering feeling of his lips on yours—it was impossible to stay mad.

Haechan 4 - 1 You

And somehow, you didn’t even mind.

But then the laughter finally died down, leaving only the sound of your breaths in the quiet room. Haechan was still grinning, lying beside you like he had just won the biggest game of his life. Technically, he had.

You glared at him, still trying to process everything. The confession. The kiss. The fact that he had planned the one-bed situation all along.

But before you could throw another insult his way, he suddenly smirked—that famous smirk, the one that always meant trouble.

"Do you remember my suggestion?" he asked, voice dripping with amusement.

You frowned. "What suggestion?"

Then it hit you.

Your brain rewound back to earlier that day. The car ride. The teasing.

"I got everything we might need so you can ride comfortably."

Your eyes widened, heat creeping up your neck.

Haechan noticed the exact moment you put it together because his smirk deepened.

"Are you still up for it?" he asked, his voice lower now, playful but laced with something else. Something dangerous.

You swallowed, your pulse hammering in your ears. You should say no. You should roll over, ignore him, and go to sleep like a rational person.

But you didn’t.

Instead, without breaking eye contact, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his before tugging him closer.

Haechan’s eyes darkened slightly, his smirk faltering just enough for you to know you had caught him off guard.

“I don’t mind a ride”

That was all he needed.

In a flash, his arms were around you, pulling you flush against him. His warmth, his scent—everything about him surrounded you in an instant. His lips brushed against your temple, trailing slowly down to your cheek before hovering just inches from your lips.

Haechan 5 - 1 You

[Coming back to you]

haechan x f!reader | past life | inspired by See you in my 19th life

INTRO: Sometimes the lines between the past and present blur, and the memories of past lives seep into the present, creating a tangled web of forgotten promises. What happens when you and Haechan are bound by a vow made in another time? A promise to find each other in every lifetime, no matter the distance, no matter the obstacles. Can love truly transcend time, or are you doomed to repeat the same heartbreak over and over again?"

warnings. Death mentioned

wc. It pretty long but I don't know how many words

NOTE: I am sorry its not read proof but its exams season and I cam barely have time to do something

----

- FIRST LIFE -

It’s the year 1950. The Korean War has begun, and the once serene landscape of South Korea is now marred by chaos. Smoke rises where villages once thrived, and fear seeps into every home. The world feels as though it’s been split apart, and for you, life as you know it has been wrenched away.

You sit at the small wooden table in your modest home, the faint scent of cooking lingering in the air. Donghyuck is seated across from you, his head bowed as he stares at the military uniform laid out before him. His lips are pressed into a thin line, the usual light in his eyes extinguished.

“You don’t have to go” you whisper, your voice trembling. You grasp his hands tightly, as though holding onto him might keep him from slipping away.

Donghyuck looks up, his gaze heavy with conflict. “I don’t have a choice, Y/N. If I don’t go…” He pauses, struggling to find the words. “If I don’t go, they’ll call me a coward. A traitor.”

“You always have a choice” you insist, tears brimming in your eyes. “We could leave. Run away. Go somewhere far from here. Please, Donghyuck…”

He shakes his head, his expression softening as he reaches out to brush a stray tear from your cheek. “The war is here, love. There’s no escaping it.”

The silence that follows is suffocating. You want to scream, to beg him to stay, but deep down, you know he’s right.

The sun has set by the time he puts on his uniform. You stand by the door, holding his coat in your trembling hands. “Come back to me” you say, your voice breaking.

Donghyuck turns, his eyes shadowed with uncertainty but filled with love. “I will.” he promises. “No matter what, I’ll come back to you.”

He kisses your forehead, lingers there for a moment as though memorizing your warmth, and then steps out into the cool night. His silhouette disappears into the chaos of soldiers and civilians, leaving you standing alone in the doorway

[ - ]

Weeks pass.

The days without him are agonisingly quiet. Each passing moment feels like a lifetime.

Life feels impossibly still without him.

Then, one day, a letter arrives—your first from Donghyuck. It’s worn from travel, the edges frayed, but his handwriting is unmistakable.

You tear open the envelope with shaking hands, reading the words over and over:

My Dearest Y/N,

The days here are long, and the nights even longer. I miss you more than I can say. Every day, I wake up and think of you, imagining the life we’ll build together once this is all over. The soldiers are kind to me, and I’ve made a few good friends. One of them, a man named Mark, is always talking about his kids—his little ones, running around the house, making noise, making life feel full. Every time he talks about them, I can’t help but think of you, and how badly I want that for us too.

Mark says that having kids changes everything. I want to believe him. I can’t wait to come back to you, the thought of it is what keeps me going through these hard days. I think about our future together, how we’ll fill our home with laughter, our own little ones running around—just like Mark’s kids. Maybe we should get to work on that as soon as I return, yeah?

I promise to return soon, Y/N. Until then, hold onto our love—it’s what keeps me going in this darkness.

With all my love, Donghyuck.

Tears spring to your eyes as you reread his letter. The words are filled with such tenderness, such hope. And yet, the more you read, the more you feel the heavy weight of the war pulling at your heart.

Every promise feels fragile, like it could shatter at any moment

Over the next few months, you receive more letters. They speak of daily life in the military, of the fear that hangs over everyone, and the growing tension as the war intensifies. Despite everything, his words remain full of love, and you hold on to them like lifelines.

But even in his letters, there are hints of the strain—the long nights, the worry of the men around him, the uncertainty of what will come next. And yet, every time he writes, he reassures you:

I will return, Y/N.This war will not take me from you.

Months pass, and the war drags on, with no sign of relief. The letters from Donghyuck become sporadic, the tone growing more strained. There are mentions of rumors—whispers among the soldiers—that the enemy may be closing in. The tension is palpable.

Then, one day, you receive a letter that shakes you to your core.

Y/N,

I don’t know when or if you’ll get this, but I need to tell you what’s happening here. There are rumors that some soldiers are being accused of aiding the enemy. It’s a terrible thing, but the pressure is immense. The higher-ups are accusing good men of being spies or traitors without proof. There’s nothing I can do. I don’t know what will happen, but I promise you, I am not a traitor. I am loyal to this country. Please, don’t lose faith in me. I just want to come home to you

I love you, always, Donghyuck.

You stare at the letter in disbelief. Your heart races, the words seeming to blur together. Accused of aiding the enemy?How could that be? The man you love, the man who swore to return to you, who had written to you with such love, suddenly caught in a web of suspicion and lies?

Fear consumes you. The uncertainty of the war, the brutality of those in power—it’s all too much. But you have no way of knowing what’s really happening. You can only wait and pray that the man you love isn’t being torn apart by the very system he believed in.

The days drag on, each one feeling like an eternity. The letters stop. Then, one morning, a group of soldiers arrives in the village. They bring news—news that changes everything.

Donghyuck has been executed for treason.

You can’t breathe. The world tilts beneath you, and you feel like you’re going to collapse right there on the street. You ask questions, but the soldiers offer no answers, only cold, mechanical statements. Donghyuck was accused of being a traitor, and in the chaos of war, there was no trial, no defense. The accusations were enough to seal his fate.

You go to the place where his body is laid out. His face is pale, his body still. The world has taken him from you. The promise, his vow to return, lies broken in the dust. You fall to your knees beside him, your heart a shattered echo of the love you shared.

With trembling hands, you reach for him, your fingers brushing his cold skin. You whisper through the tears:

"Donghyuck, you promised. You swore you would come back to me."

But there’s no answer. The world is still, and for the first time, you realize that even love—no matter how strong, no matter how pure—can’t always defy fate.

You feel the cold weight of finality as you sit by his side, the silence enveloping you. The years ahead of you stretch out like a void. The war takes everything, and the love you shared is now a memory that will haunt you forever.

You die not long after. Some say it’s from heartbreak, others from the toll of the war on your body. But you know it’s something else. You are broken without him. You drift away, the last thing you hear being his voice—a distant echo.

“I will find you. In every lifetime, I will come for you.”

----

- SECOND LIFE -

The year is 1980, and life in South Korea is buzzing with change. Disco beats and synth-pop dominate the airwaves, and the streets are alive with colorful fashion—flared jeans, oversized blazers, and bold patterns. In your teenage world, life revolves around school, friends, and navigating the unspoken rules of being a young woman.

You’ve always been one of the girls everyone notices. Pretty, smart, and sharp-tongued, you carry yourself with a confidence that keeps most boys at arm’s length. And honestly, that’s exactly how you like it.

“You should date Sungchan. He’s, like, the coolest guy in school” Miyeon says as she flips through her notebook, doodling little hearts around her crush’s name: Kim Sunwoo.

You snort, rolling your eyes. “I will never date a man. Ew.”

Miyeon gasps dramatically, clutching her chest as if you’ve just insulted her entire worldview. “But that’s what a woman is supposed to do! Find a guy, fall in love, get married…”

“I’d rather die” you say with a dismissive wave, leaning back in your chair.

Miyeon shakes her head, exasperated. “You’re impossible.”

Maybe you are. But you’ve seen how boys act—loud, gross, and overly confident in ways that make you cringe. Why would you ever want to deal with that?

A few days later, you’re rushing through the empty hallway, carrying a precarious stack of textbooks. Your teacher had asked you to bring them to the staffroom, and you were too polite to say no. But as you turn a corner too quickly, the books slip from your hands, tumbling to the floor in a loud, chaotic mess.

You groan, crouching down to gather the scattered books, muttering under your breath about how unfair life is.

“Need some help?”

The voice startles you, warm and smooth, and when you look up, you freeze.

He’s standing there, holding one of the books that had slid across the floor. His uniform fits perfectly, his tie slightly loosened in that effortlessly cool way. His hair is neatly combed but just messy enough to seem natural, and his smile—it’s disarming in a way that makes your chest feel weirdly tight.

“Are you okay?” he asks, crouching down to meet your eye level.

You nod quickly, your voice caught somewhere in your throat.

He raises an eyebrow, his smile softening. “I need you to say it to be sure.”

“I—I’m fine” you manage to stammer, your face heating up.

“Glad to hear that…”he says, glancing at the name tag pinned to your uniform. “Y/N, huh?”

You nod again, cursing yourself for being so tongue-tied.

“I’m Donghyuck” he says, handing you the last book. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too” you whisper, cringing inwardly at how awkward you sound.

Donghyuck chuckles softly, standing up and offering you a hand. You hesitate for a second before taking it, his grip firm but gentle as he helps you to your feet.

“Try not to carry so many books at once next time” he teases lightly, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You nod, biting your lip to keep from saying something dumb.

As he walks away, you find yourself staring after him, your heart pounding in a way it’s never done before.

“What just happened?” you whisper to yourself, clutching the books tightly.

For the first time, you start to wonder if maybe, just maybe, not all boys are so bad.

[-]

After that encounter in the hallway, you started noticing Donghyuck more around school. It was as if he’d suddenly stepped out of the shadows and into the spotlight of your world. He was handsome—undeniably so—and his natural charisma drew people to him like moths to a flame.

It wasn’t just Donghyuck, though. You began hearing whispers about the trio—Donghyuck, Renjun, and Jeno. They were legends in their own right, each famous for different reasons. Renjun was known for his sharp intellect and artistic talent, Jeno for his athletic skills and quiet charm, and Donghyuck… well, Donghyuck was the heart of the group, known for his humor, his quick wit, and that unmistakable confidence that made him impossible to ignore.

But above all, they had one thing in common: their beauty.

It was a cool afternoon, and you were walking home alone. Miyeon had stayed behind for a club meeting, so it was just you and the quiet rustle of the wind as you made your way down the familiar streets.

You were halfway to your way home when you noticed two boys from school trailing behind you. Their voices were loud, their laughter harsh, and you tried to ignore them, quickening your pace.

“Hey, slow down!” one of them called, his tone teasing.

You ignored him, clutching your bag tighter.

“Come on, show us what’s under that skirt" the other said, his voice dripping with mockery.

Disgust rose in your chest, your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say to put them in their place. But before you could respond, another voice cut through the air, firm and commanding.

“Is there a problem?”

You turned, your heart leaping in surprise. Donghyuck stood there, his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, flanked by two other boys you immediately recognized as Renjun and Jeno.

The two troublemakers froze, their bravado vanishing in an instant. “N-no problem” one of them stammered, their faces pale. Without another word, they turned and ran off, tails between their legs.

“Are you okay?” Donghyuck asked, stepping closer.

You nodded, still a little shaken. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?” he offered, his voice softer now.

For the first time in a long while, you didn’t hesitate. “I would love that.”

Donghyuck smiled and turned to his friends. “Give me a second, guys.”

Renjun and Jeno immediately started whistling and teasing him, their voices full of playful mockery.

“Don’t mess it up, Romeo!” Renjun called, smirking.

“She’s cute!” Jeno added with a wink in your direction.

You blushed, lowering your gaze as the two of them walked off, leaving Donghyuck behind.

“So” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “Which way?”

You pointed to the right, trying to hide your smile. “That way.”

He nodded, falling into step beside you.

As the two of you walked, the initial awkwardness began to fade. He asked you questions about school, your favorite classes, your favorite music. You were surprised by how easy it was to talk to him, how his warmth and humor seemed to put you at ease.

By the time you reached your house, you realized something that startled you: Donghyuck wasn’t just handsome, funny, and popular. He was kind.

“Thanks for walking me home” you said, pausing at your front gate.

“It was my pleasure” he replied, that familiar twinkle in his eyes.

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but watch him go, your heart doing strange little flips in your chest.

Not only was Donghyuck a gentleman—he was also a superhero in your eyes now.

[-]

The moment Donghyuck started greeting you in the hallways, your world shifted. It wasn’t just the glances or the way he said your name—it was the fluttering in your chest, the warmth that spread through you like sunshine breaking through clouds. He was everywhere now, flashing that lopsided smile, making the world seem brighter.

Of course, Miyeon noticed.

“So” she started, her voice dripping with smugness, “Miss I Hate Boys finally found one worth liking?”

You squirmed in your chair, avoiding her piercing gaze. “Uhm… maybe?” you mumbled, unsure whether to admit what you were feeling.

Her eyes widened, and then she let out a shriek. “YOU LIKE HIM?!”

Panic surged through you as you clamped your hand over her mouth, shooting daggers at her. “Be louder, why don’t you?” you hissed, glancing around the classroom to make sure no one heard her.

Miyeon pulled your hand away, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Sorry, but seriously, do you like him?”

You sighed, knowing there was no escaping her interrogation. “Yes… okay? I like him.”

She gasped, clasping her hands together as if she’d just witnessed a miracle. “Oh my gosh, this is HUGE! You know what you have to do, right?”

You blinked at her. “What?”

“You have to give him your name tag!”

Your stomach flipped at the suggestion.

It wasn’t just a casual gesture—at your school, giving someone your name tag was like putting your heart in their hands. It was bold, terrifying, and incredibly romantic.

“Miyeon, I can’t” you said, shaking your head. “What if he doesn’t want it? What if he doesn’t like me back?”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you gently. “Y/N, you’re one of the prettiest girls in school. If he doesn’t accept it, he’s an idiot. He should be groveling the moment you hand it to him!”

Her words gave you courage—or maybe it was the way Donghyuck had smiled at you earlier that day. Either way, you found yourself standing at his lunch table, your heart thundering in your chest.

“Hey, Y/N" Taeyong, a famous senior, greeted with a grin, pulling you back into reality.

“Hi” you replied, your voice a little shaky. Your eyes darted to Donghyuck, who was watching you curiously. “Donghyuck… can I talk to you for a second?”

The table fell silent. Renjun raised an eyebrow, while Jeno smirked knowingly. You could feel their eyes on you, but you forced yourself to stand tall.

“Sure” Donghyuck said, standing up. His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. He followed you outside, leaving his friends whispering behind him.

Once you were alone, the weight of the moment crashed over you like a wave. You felt your breath quicken, your palms damp with nerves. What were you thinking? What if you made a fool of yourself?

“Is something wrong?” Donghyuck asked, his voice laced with concern.

Your lips parted to speak, but no words came out. Instead, you reached up, fumbling with your name tag. Your fingers trembled as you unpinned it and held it out to him, your gaze fixed firmly on the ground.

The silence was unbearable. You felt like your heart might shatter at any second.

“Oh?” he said softly, his voice tinged with surprise.

You squeezed your eyes shut, certain he was going to hand it back. He didn’t feel the same, did he?

“Y/N” he said again, his tone gentler now.

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

Then, you felt something cool pressed into your hand. You opened your eyes and stared down at the object he’d placed there.

It wasn’t your name tag. It was his. “Lee Donghyuck" it read in neat lettering.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up at him, wide-eyed.

“I’ve been hoping for this” he said, his smile soft and genuine. “Would you like to go out with me?”

The world seemed to blur for a moment as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You nodded quickly, your lips trembling into a smile. “Yes” you managed to whisper.

His grin widened, his own cheeks flushing slightly. “Good. Because I’ve liked you for a while now.”

Your heart felt like it might burst as you held his name tag close, his words echoing in your ears. For the first time in your life, you were certain: boys were gross but Donghyuck wasn’t just a boy. He was your boy.

In that moment, Donghyuck didn’t just hold your name tag—he held your heart, too.

[-]

It was a Wednesday, but not just any Wednesday—this was the Wednesday you had your first date with your crush, Lee Donghyuck.

You had spent hours debating your outfit, trying on everything in your closet. Nothing seemed to feel right until you landed on a pair of slightly baggy jeans, a high-collar shirt, and a pair of black boots that gave you just the right amount of height. To complete the look, you threw on a leather jacket. Simple, yet effortlessly cool.

As you arrived at the cinema, your heart skipped a beat. There he was, standing outside, leaning casually against the wall. He was dressed similarly, as if you’d coordinated—black skinny jeans, a plain black shirt, and a leather jacket that made him look like he’d stepped out of a magazine.

When Donghyuck spotted you, his face lit up. He waved enthusiastically, his other hand holding a small bouquet of flowers.

“Hey” you greeted him as you walked closer, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey” he replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He held out the flowers.“These are for you.”

Your cheeks warmed as you accepted them, a shy smile breaking across your face. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

“I already bought the tickets” he said, nodding toward the entrance.

“Wow, you’re so prepared” you teased, and he grinned.

Inside the cinema, you looked at the ticket and raised an eyebrow. The Shining.

“You picked a horror movie for a first date?” you asked, amused but a little nervous.

“I wanted to see if you’d grab my arm when you got scared” he said with a mischievous smirk.

“Confident, aren’t you?”

“Always.”

The theater was dimly lit as you settled into your seat, the soundtrack of the movie filling the air, making the atmosphere heavy with suspense. You were already on edge, the tension building in the room with each passing moment. The eerie scenes on the screen didn't help—your heart raced as you gripped the armrest, trying to focus on the plot.

Suddenly, during a particularly suspenseful moment, you felt a presence beside you shift. Donghyuck leaned toward you, his voice a soft whisper in the darkness.

“You okay?” he asked, his breath brushing against your ear.

You jumped slightly, your heart skipping a beat. “Shut up” you hissed, trying to suppress the way his nearness made your pulse quicken. But you couldn't hide the small laugh that escaped you.

It was then that you noticed him stretching in his seat, the movement fluid and casual, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His arm moved slowly, inching closer to you, before wrapping around your shoulders with a smooth, practiced motion. It wasn't sudden or forceful—it was gentle, as if he had done it a hundred times before, but this was the first time, he practiced with Renjun.

His arm stretched across your shoulders, pulling you just a little closer, the warmth from his body radiating against yours. It wasn’t uncomfortable—far from it—but the sudden closeness sent a slight shock through you.

Donghyuck gave you a teasing smile, his gaze flicking to the screen. "You know, the movie's not that scary" he teased, but his voice had a certain softness, as if the playful tone hid something else.

You hesitated for a second, but with the darkness of the theater and the haunting sounds from the screen, you didn’t push him away. In fact, you found yourself leaning into the embrace, just for a moment.

The movie played on, but the screen’s chilling scenes were nothing compared to the warmth you felt against Donghyuck’s side.

By the time the movie ended, you were both buzzing with energy, talking animatedly about the scariest parts as you walked out into the cool night air.

The streets were quiet as you walked toward the crossing near the theater. The conversation flowed easily between you, laughter breaking through the stillness of the night.

“I can’t believe you screamed during that one scene” you teased.

“Hey, I wasn’t scared” he defended, his grin betraying him. “I was just… surprised!”

“Sure you were” you said, rolling your eyes, the teasing tone in your voice making him laugh

For a moment, the world felt simple, like it was just the two of you and nothing else mattered. But then, Donghyuck stopped walking, his hand gently brushing your arm to halt you too.

“Hey” he said softly, his tone shifting to something more serious. “Can I ask you something?”

You turned to face him, surprised. “Of course. What is it?”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the ground before returning to yours. “Do you ever feel like… like you’ve known someone before you even met them? Like, maybe in another life?”

His question caught you off guard. “You mean like a past life?”

“Yeah” he said, nodding. “I don’t know why, but… being with you feels like that. Like we’ve done this before, like I’ve been waiting to meet you again.”

His words sent a strange, warm sensation through your chest, something you couldn’t quite explain.

“I don’t know if I believe in things like that” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “But… it’s a nice idea.”

Donghyuck’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes soft. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?”

The two of you started walking again, the conversation lingering in the air like an unspoken promise. But as you reached the crosswalk, everything changed in an instant.

Out of nowhere, a man came speeding with his car, crashing into you both. The collision was sudden, throwing you both off balance. You fell to the ground with Donghyuck’s arms instinctively wrapping around you, shielding you from the worst of the impact.

Your head spun, and the world seemed to blur as you struggled to focus. “Donghyuck” you managed to whisper, your voice shaking.

He was lying beside you, his arms still cradling you as if shielding you from harm. Blood stained the corner of his mouth, and his breathing was shallow. His eyes fluttered open, finding yours with effort.

“Y/N” he murmured, his voice faint but steady.

“Don’t talk” you choked out, tears streaming down your face. “We’ll get help. Just stay with me.”

His hand trembled as he reached for yours, his fingers curling weakly around yours. “I’ll come back to you, I promise” he whispered, his gaze unwavering.

“Don’t say that” you cried, gripping his hand tightly as if it could keep him tethered to you.

But he only smiled, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. “I always find you… every time” he said softly, his voice fading as his eyes closed.

“Donghyuck, don’t leave me...” you sobbed, your heart shattering as his hand went limp in yours.

Pain surged through your chest, your breath coming in short, labored gasps.

The cold crept in, stealing the strength from your limbs. You knew, deep down, that you wouldn’t survive this either.

As your vision blurred and the world dimmed, you whispered your last words into the still night.

“I’ll find you too… no matter what.”

The world fell silent, and for a brief moment, the universe seemed to pause, carrying your shared promise into eternity:

“I’ll come back to you again.”

- THIRD LIFE -

The streets were bustling as you made your way to the newly opened café your friend raved about. You had been searching for the perfect spot to work outside of your apartment—a place with just the right balance of calmness and energy. When she mentioned Dream Café, she swore it was a hidden gem.

As you pushed open the door, a small bell chimed softly, signaling your arrival. The scent of freshly baked pastries and coffee wrapped around you like a warm hug. The atmosphere was serene, with soft music playing in the background and cozy seating scattered throughout.

“Welcome to Dream Café, what can I get for you?"

The voice came from behind the counter, where a tall barista with a sweet, easygoing smile greeted you. His nametag read Na Jaemin, and his charm was effortless—bright eyes and a calm aura that seemed to match the café’s vibe.

“Hi, I’d like a vanilla latte, please” you said, glancing at the menu behind him.

Jaemin nodded and leaned slightly on the counter. “Would you like anything else? The chocolate cake’s a favorite.We also have Carat cake which is a carrots cake.”

You glanced toward the display case, where desserts were arranged neatly. The chocolate cake stood out, rich and decadent.

“Sure, I’ll take a slice of that too.” you said.

“Good choice,” Jaemin replied, his hands moving swiftly to input your order. “Feel free to grab a seat. I’ll bring it to you.”

You chose a spot near the window—a cozy corner with a view of the busy street outside. It was the perfect spot, bathed in natural light with just enough privacy for you to focus. Unpacking your laptop and notebook, you settled in just as Jaemin arrived with your order.

“Here you go” he said, placing the plate and cup on the table.

“Thanks” you replied, smiling politely.

Jaemin grinned. “Enjoy your work session.” Then, with a small wave, he headed back to the counter.

Though he was undeniably friendly, you barely gave it another thought as you focused on your tasks. The latte was warm and perfectly sweet, and the chocolate cake practically melted in your mouth. Your friend hadn’t exaggerated—Dream Café had the right atmosphere to keep you productive.

As the hours passed, you found yourself at ease in the café’s calming space. The occasional hum of customers and Jaemin’s faint chatter with patrons added a pleasant backdrop to your work. For the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of peace, as though you’d finally found the perfect haven to balance your hectic routine.

Little did you know, this café would become more than just a place to work. It would be where you’d meet someone whose presence felt familiar, as if their existence was already intertwined with yours.

[-]

Days turned into weeks, and Dream Café quickly became your go-to spot. The cozy atmosphere, delicious coffee, and quiet charm made it the perfect place for your work. You’d even gotten to know some of the staff, like Jaemin, who always greeted you with a bright smile, and Jisung, the shy but endearing barista who often seemed to disappear into the background.

Then one day, everything shifted.

You walked in as usual, the soft chime of the bell announcing your arrival. The familiar scent of coffee and freshly baked pastries greeted you, but this time, someone new stood behind the counter. His tan skin glowed under the café's warm lights, and his brown eyes caught yours, holding them just a moment too long.

“Hi, welcome to Dream Café. What can I get for you?” he said, his voice warm and inviting. His name tag read Lee Haechan.

“I’d like a vanilla latte, and do you have any chocolate cake left?” you asked.

“You’re lucky—we’ve got the last slice,” he replied with a smile so radiant it almost left you breathless. Could a smile really have that much power?

You thanked him, taking a seat at your usual spot by the window. From there, you couldn’t help but notice him moving around, restocking pastries, chatting with Jaemin, and attending to customers with that same easygoing charm. You told yourself not to stare, but somehow, your eyes kept wandering back to him.

[-]

A few days later, as you settled into your routine at the café, Haechan approached your table with a curious expression. “Hey, mind if I ask what you’re always working on over here?” he asked, setting down your order with a grin.

“Oh, um…” You hesitated, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. “It’s work. I’m a computer scientist, so I’m mostly coding or analyzing data.”

“Wow” he said, eyebrows raised. “Sounds complicated. I can barely figure out how to set up my email without help.”

You laughed softly, his comment breaking the ice. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. Honestly, I just sit here staring at my screen half the time.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you look really focused. Very intimidating, actually” he teased, leaning slightly on the chair across from you.

“Intimidating?” you repeated with a chuckle. “I’m not intimidating.”

“Sure you’re not” he replied, his grin widening. “But seriously, you’re here so often, you’re practically a part-time employee. Do we get to call you one of us yet?”

“Only if you start paying me in chocolate cake” you shot back.

“Deal” he said without hesitation, his playful tone making you smile.

From that day on, Haechan made it a point to stop by your table whenever he had a spare moment. Sometimes, he’d ask about your work, genuinely curious despite admitting he didn’t understand a word of it. Other times, he’d tell you funny stories about customers or Jaemin, whose antics seemed to keep the café lively.

One quiet afternoon, the café was nearly empty, giving Haechan a rare break. He wandered over to your table again, this time with his own cup of coffee.

“So” he began, sitting down across from you without asking, “is Dream Café officially your favorite spot, or do we still have to work on earning that title?”

You smiled, setting your laptop aside. “I guess I keep coming back for a reason.”

“Good answer” he said, looking genuinely pleased.

Slowly but surely, Haechan became more than just another barista at Dream Café. His charm, humor, and warmth added a new kind of comfort to your visits.Slowly but surely, he became more than just a barista at your favorite cafe- he became someone you looked forward seeing every day

[-]

The day was unusually gloomy, the kind that seemed to sap the energy out of everything. The sky hung heavy with gray clouds, and the faint drizzle outside cast streaks across the café windows. You stepped into Dream Café, brushing off your damp coat, and settled into your usual corner by the window. The warm glow of the café lights contrasted with the bleakness outside, offering a temporary escape.

Haechan was at the counter, chatting with Jaemin as he wiped down the coffee machines. His laughter was soft, almost subdued, as if the weather had dulled its usual brightness. Still, every now and then, his eyes flicked toward you. He caught your gaze once and smiled, just enough to send a small spark of warmth through your chest before you turned your attention to your laptop.

The hours passed, the café slowly emptying as the drizzle turned into a steady rain. You lost yourself in your work, the gentle hum of the coffee grinder and the low murmur of soft jazz creating the perfect background noise. Occasionally, you’d look up and see Haechan bustling around—restocking pastries, adjusting the thermostat, or clearing tables. Once or twice, you thought you caught him glancing at you, but it was hard to tell through the dim lighting and raindrops on the windows.

As the evening wore on, the café grew quieter. It was just you and a couple seated near the entrance. The rain outside intensified, now a rhythmic patter against the glass. You glanced at your watch, realizing how late it had gotten, but you couldn’t quite pull yourself away from the work still left to finish.

When the couple finally left, Haechan began wiping down their table. You felt his eyes on you again, and this time, when you looked up, he didn’t turn away. Instead, he walked over, a warm yet hesitant smile on his face.

“Hey” he started, leaning against the chair opposite you. “Still working?”

You nodded, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah, I lost track of time. I didn’t realize it was already so late.”

He glanced outside, where the rain was now coming down in sheets. “It’s pouring pretty bad out there. Do you have a ride home?”

You hesitated, looking out at the wet streets. “No, I was just going to call for a cab or something.”

Haechan tilted his head, his smile softening. “I could give you a ride. My car’s parked just around the corner.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the offer. “Oh, I don’t want to bother you. It’s out of your way, I’m sure.”

“Not at all,” he assured you. “Besides, I wouldn’t feel right letting you head out in this weather on your own.”

You studied his face, noting the sincerity in his eyes. “Are you sure?”

He nodded, grabbing a chair and sitting down for a moment. “Absolutely. Besides, I’m off in ten minutes, so it’s perfect timing.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Okay. Thank you, Haechan. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he said, standing up and glancing at your laptop. “Just don’t let your boss know you’re this dedicated, or they’ll start piling on more work.”

You laughed softly. “Noted. I’ll keep my workaholic tendencies a secret.”

Haechan returned to the counter, finishing up his closing tasks while you packed up your things. When he was ready, he grabbed his coat and umbrella, holding the door open for you as the two of you stepped into the rainy night.

The ride home was quiet but comfortable, the sound of rain against the car windows filling the silence. Occasionally, you’d catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, and you couldn’t help but feel a little lighter despite the gloomy weather

The rain had stopped, but the unease in the air lingered, wrapping around you like a cold embrace. That night, sleep came slowly, like a pull that took longer than usual to break through your conscious thoughts. When you finally slipped into slumber, your mind carried you away to a different time, a different life—one that felt both distant and familiar at the same time.

The first dream was peaceful.

You were older, you found yourself in a small, cozy house, the sunlight filtering through the windows in soft golden hues. The air smelled of fresh herbs and home-cooked meals, a quiet and comforting routine.

You were married—happily married to Haechan. You could feel the warmth of his hand in yours as you sat on the porch, the world quiet around you. His laugh filled the air, easy and carefree, and you found yourself smiling at his every word, every touch. You shared simple moments: laughing together over meals, holding hands during walks, and spending long evenings sitting in front of a fire.

This is what happiness feels like, you thought to yourself as you stared at his face in the glow of the firelight. He looked at you with such tenderness, and the love between the two of you felt endless.

At first, you thought you were going crazy, that your little crush on Haechan was starting to turn you into a delusional version of yourself. But then each time you closed your eyes, you found yourself in a different place, a different time. But somehow, they felt familiar, like pieces of a puzzle that belonged together, but the image wasn’t fully clear.

One night you found yourself standing in a dimly lit room, its walls cracked and stained with the remnants of war. The air was thick with smoke, and the distant sound of artillery fire echoed through the hazy sky. It was the Korean War, but something felt... wrong. You weren’t supposed to be there. The world around you seemed to be falling apart, yet you stood in the middle of it all, strangely calm, as though you had lived through this before.

And there, across from you, stood him—not Haechan, not the playful barista from Dream Café, but Donghyuck, older, battle-worn, and wearing a military uniform. His face was different, yet his eyes—those familiar brown eyes—pierced through the chaos, locking onto yours with a look of quiet recognition.

“Y/N” he called, his voice rough yet tender. You had heard him call your name before, many times, but this time it felt like it carried the weight of years, of battles fought and lost, of time slipping through your fingers.

“Come with me” he urged, his hand outstretched, but you hesitated.

Why does this feel so familiar? And why his name is Donghyuck?

You followed him anyway, stepping through the broken streets of a city that seemed to have once held life, now reduced to nothing more than ash. There was a sense of urgency in his movements, but there was something else, too. A bond. The bond between you both felt unbreakable, like you had always known each other, always been tethered in this strange dance of fate.

“Don’t look back” he whispered, guiding you through the ruins.

But as you ran, you couldn’t help but glance back. The faces of soldiers flashed by, their lives cut short by the cruel hands of war. But none of it mattered. It was him that mattered. Always him.

You didn’t know how much time passed, but suddenly, you were on the ground, the weight of his body pressing against yours, the distant echoes of gunfire fading into silence. His brown eyes looked at you once more, filled with a deep sadness that left a hollow ache in your chest.

“I’ll come back to you” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I promise.”

“Donghyuck” you breathed, your heart tearing as you reached out for him, but the world around you began to crumble, pulling you away from him.

His hand slipped from yours, and the dream shattered like glass, sending you hurtling into another life.

Then the dreams started shifting again. This time the world was different. The air was warmer, the sky clear and bright, and you were back on familiar ground—back in the 1980s. You could smell the scent of fresh school uniforms and the hum of teenage excitement in the air. You were younger now, walking through a bustling street, the world full of possibilities and innocence. And there he was again.

Haechan.

But now, he was not the soldier you had known before.

He was wearing a crisp school uniform, his hair styled in a way that made him look effortlessly cool, the swagger of youth in his every step. And those eyes—the same brown eyes—caught yours across the street, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background.

His smile was as playful as ever, the confidence of youth radiating off him. But there was something else in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite place.

“Hey, are you ready?” he asked, and the familiarity of his voice sent a rush of warmth through your chest.

And that was all it took. With that smile, that carefree laugh, you felt your heart start to beat faster, something stirring deep within you. The feeling of déjà vu crept up again, but this time, you embraced it.

You walked with him through the streets, the rhythm of his footsteps matching your own. His laugh echoed in your ears, and for a moment, you felt at peace. But deep down, something gnawed at you. Had you been here before?

Your head started spinning, the confusion flooded your mind as the memories shifted, start pulling you through time like a kaleidoscope of fragmented lives. But when it stopped you looked up and you saw Haechan—no, Donghyuck—fall once more, this time in the chaos of the streets.

You couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t save him again. And you felt that loss like a sharp pain in your chest.

You screamed for him, but his eyes closed, and he was gone.

His words wrapped around you like a lifeline, but you knew, deep down, that you had heard them before. And it always ended the same way.

You couldn’t save him.

You woke up, your heart racing, the images from the dream lingering in your mind like fragments of a story you couldn’t quite understand. You tried to shake them off, to focus on the present, but the memories refused to fade. Each life felt like an echo of something that had always been.

It wasn’t the first time you’d dreamed of these lives, but it was the first time you realized that each version of him—each Donghyuck, each Haechan—was always the same. And each time, you lost him. No matter how much you tried to change it, no matter how many lives you lived, you could never escape the inevitable.

And as the days passed, the memories began to intrude on your waking life, flashing before your eyes in the quiet moments of your day. You could feel them, feel the weight of every life you had lived, every time you had lost him. You couldn’t outrun it.

You couldn’t outrun the truth.

And as the memories of the past lingered, you couldn’t help but wonder... would this life, this one with Haechan, be the same? Would it end with him slipping away again? Or was there a way for you to change the ending? Were you cursed?

You didn’t know. You thought you were going crazy. You needed someone to talk to, someone who would understand. Chenle, your best friend.

You spotted Chenle at a corner table, already sipping on his drink, his sharp eyes watching you the moment you stepped inside.

Sliding into the seat across from him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Chenle raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “It’s worse than that.”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “Okay, now I’m interested. Spill.”

You hesitated for a moment before lowering your voice. “I’ve been having dreams. But not just any dreams—memories. Past lives. And in every single one of them… he’s there.”

Chenle blinked. “Who?”

“Haechan.” The name barely left your lips before you saw the confusion settle on his face. “Or… Donghyuck. He had different names in each life, but it was always him.”

For the first time, Chenle didn’t have a sarcastic remark ready. He studied you carefully. “And what happens in these dreams?”

You swallowed hard. “We always find each other. And then… I lose him.” Your voice wavered. “Every single time.”

Chenle let out a slow breath, tapping his fingers against his cup. “That’s… insane.”

“I know,” you whispered. Your throat tightened. “But it feels so real. Every time I see him now, it’s like I already know him. Like I’ve already lost him before.”

For the first time, Chenle didn’t have some sarcastic remark ready. He just stared at you, the weight of your words settling between you both.

“Y/N…” he started, but then stopped. His fingers drummed lightly on the table, deep in thought. “So, do you think he remembers too?”

You inhaled sharply. That was the one question you hadn’t let yourself dwell on.

What if he didn’t? What if, to him, you were just a stranger?

Or worse—what if he did remember?

What if he was waiting for you to realize it?

Chenle must have noticed the shift in your expression because his gaze softened. “You have to talk to him.”

Your pulse quickened. “What if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he interrupted. “If this is real—if he remembers too—you deserve to know.”

The words settled deep inside you. The truth was, you already knew you needed to talk to Haechan. You had known it from the moment you started dreaming of him.

Chenle glanced at his phone. “I have to go, but…” He gave you a pointed look. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

You hesitated before nodding.

He sighed dramatically. “Alright, but don’t come crying to me if it turns out you’re just obsessed with your barista.”

You rolled your eyes, but his teasing tone made your shoulders relax just a little.

As he got up and left, you stayed behind, staring down at your untouched drink. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

And then—

“Still deep in thought?”

You looked up.

Haechan was standing by your table, wiping his hands on a towel, his usual teasing smirk playing on his lips.

Your throat went dry. Now or never.

“Haechan, can I talk to you?”

He blinked, surprised by your serious tone. But then, something shifted in his expression. Slowly, he placed the towel down and slid into the seat across from you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of your dreams, your memories, your entire existence pressed down on you. But just as you opened your mouth—

He smiled. A knowing, almost expectant smile.

“I was waiting for you to remember, Y/N.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The world around you seemed to freeze.

“I—” you started, but the words wouldn’t come out.

Haechan leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. His gaze softened, but there was something else there—something deep, something sad.

“We’ve been here before” he murmured. “Not just here. Every lifetime. Every version of us.”

The air felt heavier. You gripped the edge of the table. “Then… it’s real?” Your voice barely came out as a whisper.

He nodded. “You’re not crazy. I remember everything too.”

The revelation sent a shiver through your entire body. “But why? Why does it always end the same?”

Haechan exhaled, looking past you, as if staring at something only he could see. “Because we were cursed.”

Your heart pounded. “Cursed?”

He finally looked back at you, “A long time ago, in one of our first lives, we did something that angered the wrong people. A love like ours wasn’t supposed to exist, they said. And so, they cursed us—to find each other in every life, only to be torn apart before we could have our ending.”

The words sent a chill down your spine. Images of your dreams—the war, the school, the deaths—flashed before your eyes. So you lived even more than three lives?

“So that’s why…” you trailed off, your voice shaking.

Haechan nodded. “Every time I see you, I hope maybe this will be the life we break free. That maybe, this time, we change the ending.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “But how? How do we stop it?”

His hand reached forward, brushing your cheek, grounding you. His warmth seeped into your skin, a reminder that this was real.

“I don’t know” he admitted. “But I do know one thing.”

You swallowed, eyes locked onto his. “What?”

“I love you” he whispered. “Every time, in every life. And I will always find you.”

Before you could even process his words, his hands cupped your face with a tenderness that sent a jolt of something deep into your soul.

And then—he kissed you.

The second his lips met yours, it was like a floodgate had opened. Memories crashed into you, overlapping with the present. The warmth of his embrace in a small war-torn house. The laughter of your teenage selves echoing in the 1980s streets. The desperate reach of his hand as he was ripped away from you in battle.

Every life. Every moment.

And now—this.

This life.

This kiss.

Your fingers clutched onto his shirt, afraid to let go, afraid that if you did, he would slip away like he had so many times before.

But he didn’t.

Not this time.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes met his, wide and searching. He smiled again, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“I told you I’d come back to you.”

Tears spilled down your face, but you laughed, shaking your head. “You always say that.”

“And I always mean it.”

This time, you believed him.

Because this time, you weren’t going to lose him.

Because this time, you were going to break the curse.

[ Train to 'Love' ]

jeno x f!reader | sad story | d3ad mentioned | jeno's perspective

NOTE: I'm sorry if this i really short and not happy but i had this in my notes for so long :(

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Jeno had always waited for you.

Through every season, he sat on this station bench, clutching onto fleeting hope like a lifeline.

The chill of winter, the warmth of summer, the rain of autumn—they all came and went, but they felt the same.

Time no longer moved for him; it sat beside him instead, silent and still, his only companion.

It dried his tears and whispered promises you’d return. They both waited for you, longing for the emptiness to be filled, for this purgatory to end. He could feel it, though—a restlessness growing in time itself, eager to move forward. He was eager too, but he couldn’t leave without you.

Would you come back to him? Or would he remain on this bench, waiting forever?

The cigarette between his fingers had burned down to its end, the faint ember flickering before dying out. He lit another, the ritual familiar, automatic. You never liked him smoking, said it would ruin him one day. He told you he’d quit, but now it’s the only thing keeping him company.

The 11:50 PM train roared into the station, its arrival announced by a metallic screech and a rush of air. He didn’t move at first, just sat there, watching as passengers spilled onto the platform. His heart still betrayed him every time, beating faster with that stupid, impossible hope.

What if? What if this time…?

His eyes darted over the faces, scanning the crowd for you. He knew you wouldn’t be there. He knew, because he saw you that day. Also he'd seen the notice. He'd read the words over and over again until they burned into his mind.

“Young woman struck by a train at 11:50 PM—identified as Y/N.”

He lenched his fists, the lighter in his pocket pressing hard against his palm. That lighter was yours. You didnt smoke but bought one only for him. He'd found it on the ground the night it happened, the night he couldn’t stop you from leaving.

◇◇◇◇

That evening had been calm. You had spent the day together, talking, laughing, like you always did. But when you stood up to leave, he saw that familiar look in your eyes—the one that said you needed to be alone. You had to catch the last train, and he couldn’t argue.

"I’ll be fine, Jeno” you said, smiling gently as you grabbed your bag. "You stay here. I'll see you soon.”

He nodded, his heart tightening as you walked out the door, the familiar sound of your footsteps fading into the night.

He didn’t know that would be the last time he’d hear them.

It was almost an hour later when he heard the sirens outside. A dull throb of worry kept him glued to his seat, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Then, the phone rang.

The officer’s voice was calm, detached, but to him, it felt like the ground beneath him had disappeared. "We believe your girlfriend, Y/N, was involved in an accident at the station. She… she was pushed onto the tracks. We need you to come to the station."

He froze, his body refusing to comprehend what he’d just heard.

You’d been pushed.

His mind couldn’t grasp the reality, but he knew he had to get to the station.

He ran.

The world blurred around him as his heart pounded, every step feeling heavier than the last. When he arrived, the scene was cordoned off, the flashing lights of the police cars and ambulances a stark contrast to the stillness he felt inside.

The paramedics were already gone. But they hadn’t taken you.

He saw your body on the ground. It was you, lying there, pale and lifeless. The reality hit him like a punch to the gut. You had been so full of life, so full of warmth—now, nothing remained but an unbearable emptiness.

◇◇◇◇

The train doors closed with a hiss, and the platform emptied. You weren’t there. You’d never be there again.

Still, he stayed on the bench, the cigarette in his hand burning down to ash.

“Hey, do you have a light?”

The voice startled him. It was soft, hesitant, and female. He turned to see a girl standing a few feet away, holding an unlit cigarette. She looked nothing like you—her hair was shorter, her eyes darker—but something about her made his chest tighten. He wished it was you.

“Yeah” he muttered, pulling the lighter from his pocket.

He handed it to her, and for a moment, she just stared at it. “This is a nice lighter” she said, running her thumb over the engraved initials: Y/N.

“It’s not mine” he replied, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “It belonged to someone else.”

“Oh” she said softly, lighting her cigarette. She handed the lighter back to him, her hand brushing his for the briefest moment. “Thanks.”

He nodded, slipping the lighter back into his pocket. She walked away, leaving the faint scent of smoke.

He sat there for a long time, staring at the empty platform. The train had long since departed, and the station had fallen silent again.

The lighter felt heavier in his pocket, like it was pulling him down, anchoring him to this place. He pulled it out and turned it over in his hands, the engraved initials catching the dim light.

“I’m sorry” he whispered, the words barely audible "I should've come with you that night."

He closed his eyes, letting the weight of the silence settle over him.

He doesn’t know if you’d want him to keep coming here, if you’d want him to move on. But the truth is, he doesn’t know how to.

He doesn’t know how to leave this bench.

[I can be a better boyfriend than him]

haechan x f!reader | kissing even if in a relationship (cheating)

INTRO: You meet Haechan at a party

warnings. cursing | cheating

Lowkey inspired by: boyfriend by Dove Cameron and All too Well short movie by Taylor Swift

----

Dating Kim Seojun was like living in a spotlight you never asked for. As one of the most popular guys on campus—star of the basketball team, president of the student council, and a business major with a bright future—he was practically royalty. Together, you were the "perfect couple," the one everyone envied. But behind the polished facade, it wasn’t always easy.

You, a quiet journalism major who preferred books over parties, felt like you were always trying to keep up. Seojun thrived in crowds, his charisma shining brightest when he was the center of attention. Meanwhile, you were the one trailing behind, trying not to fade into the background.

That’s how you found yourself at yet another party tonight—loud, chaotic, and completely not your scene. The music vibrated through the room, a heavy bassline that made it hard to think, let alone enjoy yourself. You stayed by the drink table, nursing a soda while Seojun worked the crowd.

You watched him laugh, his arm casually draped around a teammate's shoulder, his signature smile lighting up the room. He looked effortless, like he belonged here. And yet, in the two hours you'd been at the party, he'd barely acknowledged you.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but tonight it felt heavier. Each time you tried to approach him, someone else would grab his attention, pulling him away before he could notice you standing there, waiting.

You clenched your cup tightly, the condensation slick against your palm. The voices, the laughter, the press of bodies—it all became too much. The weight of trying to pretend you were fine made your chest tighten.

Without a word to anyone, you set your drink down and slipped outside.

The cold night air hit you like a wave, sharp and refreshing. You inhaled deeply, savoring the quiet. The party's noise was muffled now, a distant hum behind closed doors. You wandered toward the edge of the patio, leaning against the railing as you gazed out at the twinkling city lights.

It was moments like these that made you question if being the "perfect couple" was worth it. How perfect could it really be if you always felt so alone?

"Rough night?" a voice broke the silence, low and smooth.

Startled, you turned to find someone standing a few feet away. He leaned against the railing, hands tucked into the pockets of a sleek black leather jacket. His dark hair fell slightly over his eyes, and the faint glow of the streetlamp above cast shadows on his sharp features. You didn’t recognize him, but there was something magnetic about his presence.

"I didn’t think anyone noticed” you murmured, unsure whether to feel flattered or wary.

He smirked faintly, his posture casual but his gaze sharp. "It’s hard not to notice someone looking like they’re suffocating inside” He paused, his eyes flickering toward the party behind you. "Doesn’t seem like your kind of scene."

"It’s not” you admitted, crossing your arms against the chill of the night air. "But... my boyfriend loves it” The word felt heavier as it left your lips.

He tilted his head, a teasing edge to his voice. "So, you’re out here because of him?"

You hesitated, unsure how much to reveal to a stranger. "Not exactly” you replied carefully. "I just needed some space."

He nodded as if he understood, pushing off the railing and closing the distance between you ever so slightly. "Fair enough. Parties can be exhausting. I usually avoid them myself."

You glanced at him, curiosity starting to bloom despite yourself. "Then why are you here?"

"Me?" His smirk deepened, a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. "My friend wanted to come, he loves parties. I like quiet spots. Out here is where the interesting stuff happens." He gestured toward the empty street where a sleek black motorcycle was parked.

The sight caught your attention. "Is that yours?" you asked, nodding toward the bike.

"It is” he said simply, his tone almost nonchalant, but the pride was evident.

"She’s more fun than any party could ever be."

You chuckled softly despite yourself, the tension in your chest easing just a little. "I can see that."

"I’m Haechan, by the way” he said suddenly, holding out a hand.

You hesitated for a moment before taking it. His grip was firm but not overpowering. "Y/N” you replied, your name feeling strange in his presence.

"Well, Y/N” he said, his smirk softening into something more genuine, "if you ever get tired of standing in someone else’s shadow, maybe you should try stepping into the spotlight for yourself."

The words lingered in the air between you, a challenge and an invitation all at once. Before you could respond, the patio door creaked open, and a familiar voice called out.

"Y/N?"

You turned to see Seojun stepping outside, his brows furrowed in concern—or maybe irritation. "There you are" he said, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "I’ve been looking for you everywhere. I thought you’d left without saying anything."

His words struck a nerve. He wasn’t looking for you when you stood in the same room with him all night, but now that you’d stepped away, he suddenly cared?

"I needed some air” you said flatly, stepping away from Haechan.

Seojun glanced at him briefly but didn’t bother saying anything. He focused back on you. "We should head home now. It’s getting late."

You nodded, the tension from earlier returning. You turned back to Haechan, who was watching the exchange silently, his expression unreadable.

"Goodbye” you said softly, offering him a small nod.

"Goodnight, Y/N” he replied, his voice low and calm, almost like a promise.

You followed Seojun to the car, but the brief encounter with Haechan stayed with you, his words echoing in your mind long after the night ended.

“Who was that?” Seojun asked but you just shrugged in response and gotten in the car

----

The days after the party felt hazy, like you were moving through a fog. The same routine played out—classes, assignments, and the occasional message from Seojun that lacked any real affection. Yet, no matter how busy you tried to keep yourself, your mind kept drifting back to that night.

To Haechan

He didn’t look like the type of guy you’d ever bring home to meet your parents. With his leather jacket, smirk, and a motorcycle parked just outside the party, he seemed worlds apart from the polished, reliable image of someone like Seojun. But there was something about him that had stuck in your head, something you couldn’t quite shake.

You told yourself it was nothing. A passing thought, a fleeting moment. But then Seojun made it harder and harder to believe that.

Your "perfect" relationship was unraveling at the seams. Little things turned into arguments, and his indifference made you feel invisible. The final straw came one Friday evening. He had dragged you along to another of his events—this time, a dinner with seniors you’d never met before.

You’d tried to keep up appearances, standing by his side as he greeted or introduced himself to every group. But as soon as you entered the circle of a group of senior girls, you felt the change. He dropped your hand, his attention suddenly laser-focused on one of them—a short, elegant girl with a confident laugh.

You stood there, feeling awkward and out of place, as he leaned in, hanging on her every word. You didn’t want to assume the worst, but you couldn’t deny how it looked.

Afterward, on the way back to the car, you brought it up.

"Why did you drop my hand back there?" you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

"What are you talking about?" Seojun replied, brushing it off.

"In front of those seniors. You didn’t even introduce me, and you looked... interested in her."

He let out a frustrated sigh. "Are you serious right now? It’s not a big deal. She’s an important contact, and I needed to focus. You can’t expect me to hold your hand every second."

"It’s not only about holding my hand” you said, your voice rising slightly. "It’s about respect. You left me standing there like I didn’t exist.I don’t know these people and you dropped my fucking hand Seojun"

"Maybe because you’re always making a scene about nothing!" he snapped, his tone cutting.

You stopped walking, stunned by his words. He turned to look at you, clearly exasperated.

"Look" he said, "Im not in the mood for this right now. Just take the bus home, okay?”

“What?” You asked incredulous at what he just said

“Text me when you get back home or when you calmed down.”

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the parking lot.

The night air was cold, and the streetlights buzzed faintly above you. Your chest felt heavy, frustration and humiliation swirling inside.

How the hell were you supposed to go back home now?

As you stared after him, trying to process what had just happened, a voice broke the silence.

"What an idiot."

You turned toward the sound and saw him—Haechan. He was leaning against a lamppost a few feet away, his dark eyes fixed on you. He flicked the remnants of a cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his boot before walking toward you.

For a moment, you were too surprised to speak. "You again?" you finally managed, your voice laced with disbelief.

"Me again" he replied, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I couldn’t help overhearing. Your boyfriend’s a real charmer."

You sighed, brushing your hair out of your face. "I don’t really want to talk about it."

"Fair enough," he said, stopping a few steps away from you. "But if you don’t want to stand here crying about him all night, I’ve got a better idea."

You raised an eyebrow. "What kind of idea?"

Haechan nodded toward his motorcycle parked nearby. "Hop on. I’ll take you somewhere."

The thought made you hesitate. It was reckless, impulsive, and completely out of character for you.

But as you looked at him—standing there with an easy confidence, like he wasn’t afraid of anything—you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Freedom.

"Where would we even go?" you asked, testing the waters.

He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Anywhere but here."

You struggled slightly as you tried to climb onto the motorcycle, the fabric of your skirt making it a bit more awkward than you expected.

"Hold on tight” Haechan said, his voice light, but there was an edge of mischief.

"What?" you asked, but before you could react, he revved the engine, and the bike shot forward. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around his waist to steady yourself. The contact was unexpected, sending a wave of butterflies through both your stomachs.

The city blurred past as you sped down the road, the cool night air biting at your skin. It was exhilarating—something you hadn't felt in a while. It wasn’t just the rush of the ride, though; it was the feeling of being completely present in the moment, disconnected from everything else, even for a little while.

Eventually, Haechan slowed the bike and pulled into a convenience store parking lot. You both grabbed snacks and found a bench outside, the soft rustling of the bags and the distant hum of the city providing a backdrop to the quiet moment.

After a few minutes, you turned toward him, curiosity getting the better of you.

“So, how did you know where I was?” you asked, still trying to piece things together from earlier.

Haechan gave you a casual smile. "I didn’t. I just figured you’d be out here somewhere, alone” he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I mean, I saw you earlier, thought maybe you’d notice me in the crowd, but looks like I was wrong."

You raised an eyebrow. "In the crowd?"

He shrugged, nonchalantly tearing open a snack. "Yeah, I thought you'd spot me. You looked like you were kinda... caught up in your own world, you know?” he added, with a small, teasing smirk.

You shook your head, still processing his words. "You’re a senior?"

He chuckled softly. "Nah. But I know a lot of them. Jaehyun and Johnny, remember them?”

"The tall dudes?" you asked, a sudden spark of recognition lighting up.He nodded

"Yeah. They’re like brothers to me" he explained. "So, I thought I'd swing by and then I went out to smoke a cigarettes that’s when I heard the conversation.”

You hummed in understanding, then shifted the conversation to something lighter. "What’s the name of the bike?"

“Don’t laugh” he warned, his grin widening, his eyes bright with pride. "Luna. It means 'moon.'"

You chuckled, the name sounding oddly fitting. "Luna, huh?Because you’re Fullsun, right?”

His grin widened, clearly pleased with the connection. "Exactly. See, you’re catching on."

The two of you ate quietly for a while, the snack bags rustling softly in the otherwise peaceful night.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice quieter this time. "You’re probably wondering why I was left in the parking lot back there."

Haechan glanced over at you, his expression softening. "I was, yeah. But I wasn't planning on asking."

You let out a breath, unsure of how to explain without sounding ridiculous. "It probably sounds stupid to you.”

"Nothing sounds stupid unless you decide it does” he said, his voice gentle.

You sighed, looking down at your hands as you fidgeted with the edge of your sleeve. "He dropped my hand... after he saw her. This senior, Irene. She was—" You stopped, trying to find the words. "She was beautiful."

Haechan didn't interrupt, just watching you quietly. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but somehow, it was comforting.

"I’m pathetic, huh?" you muttered, more to yourself than to him, laughter escaping you, but it was bitter and hollow.

Haechan didn't say anything at first, just leaned back slightly, his hand resting casually on the seat between you. He let you collect yourself, and when you looked up again, your eyes were a little too wet.

"Y/N” he said softly, his voice low but steady, "if it hurts, it’s never stupid. People feel things differently. And I won’t judge you for anything you feel.Not ever”

You tried to stifle a sniffle, embarrassed. "I’m sorry. I must look like a mess."

Haechan gave you a small, understanding smile. "You don’t look like a mess. You look... beautiful."

The words settled into your chest, making it feel warm, and you looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time in what felt like forever. His expression softened, and something shifted between the two of you.

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, and the simple gesture sent a wave of heat to your cheeks. "You deserve someone who sees you, Y/N. Someone who gets you. More than him."

You blinked, the words hanging in the air. "More than him?" you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper.

Haechan's eyes were fixed on yours, and he leaned in just slightly, enough to make your heart race. "Me" he said quietly, but firmly. "I can treat you better than he ever did. I will treat you better. I can be a better boyfriend than him. I will be if you give me the chance to court you”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with anticipation, and as Haechan leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips, he asked, "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded, your heart pounding so loudly you could barely hear anything else. The butterflies in your stomach were impossible to ignore now.

When his lips finally brushed against yours, it was soft—tentative, as if asking for permission even after the unspoken answer. Your eyes fluttered closed, and the initial touch was warm, delicate, almost like the beginning of a secret shared between the two of you. Then, as the kiss deepened, there was an urgency to it—a quiet desperation, like neither of you wanted to pull away.

Haechan’s lips moved against yours with a tenderness that contrasted with the storm inside you. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared. All that remained was the warmth of his touch, the soft pressure of his lips, and the fluttering of your heart.

The kiss was slow at first, exploring, but it built with an intensity you hadn’t expected. Your hands found their way to his chest, pressing against the fabric of his jacket, grounding you. The feeling of his body so close, the softness of his lips, the way he held you like you were something precious—everything seemed to fade into the background.

When you finally broke away, breathless and slightly dazed, you both lingered in the silence, your foreheads resting together. The night air was cool against your skin, but inside, there was a warmth that neither of you could deny.

"You taste like cherry” he murmured, his voice low, almost playful, yet with a rawness that made your heart skip.

[ Mine to protect ]

chenle x f!reader | toxic relationship au | threats mentioned

INTRO: Love isn’t always simple, especially when the past refuses to let go.

wc. Around 2-2.5k

warnings. Death mentioned, slightly suggestive and crazy ex

Lowkey inspired by: Back to you by Selena Gomez

NOTE: don't mind me but lately Chenle is bias wrecking me so bad.

----

You still couldn’t figure out how you ended up in a situation like this.

When things started to go wrong between you and Chenle, it became a vicious cycle: arguing, making up, and then arguing all over again. Eventually, the cycle broke when you called it quits. That was supposed to be the end of it, right?

Then why, three months later, were you still not over him—and worse, being chased by one of his deranged exes who seemed determined to kill you?

At first, you didn’t want Chenle to know. Even though he and his family could’ve handled the situation much better than you could, the thought of seeing him again made your heart heavy.

The first warning came in the form of an unmarked package left on your doorstep. You stared at it for a while, thinking it was a late delivery of something you’d ordered. But as soon as you opened the box, you felt the air leave your lungs. Inside was a small knife, and beside it, a piece of paper with jagged writing:

“You have no one to protect you now. See you soon, boyfriend stealer.”

Your hands trembled as you read the words again, your mind racing. It wasn’t hard to figure out who had sent it. Chenle’s so-called “ex” wasn’t even a real ex—it was an arranged marriage his family had tried to push on him. But she clearly didn’t see things the same way.

You brushed it off at first, telling yourself she was just trying to scare you. But then came more packages, each worse than the last. A lock of hair. Pictures of you walking home.

And then it escalated.

You came home one evening, exhausted from work, only to find the front door slightly open. Your blood ran cold as you stepped inside. Everything looked normal at first, but then you noticed small, unsettling details. A chair pulled out from the kitchen table. A window you swore you had locked, now open. Worst of all, the faint scent of perfume—one you didn’t own—lingering in the air.

You couldn’t stay there anymore. Fear had taken over every part of your life. You packed your things and moved to a new place, doing everything you could to stay under the radar—all while keeping it from Chenle. He wasn’t supposed to know.

But secrets like that don’t stay hidden for long. The night of a big event in town, you saw her. She was standing across the street, her eyes locked on you with a twisted smile. Panic set in, and you ran without thinking. Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately—Jisung saw the entire thing and told Chenle right away.

Chenle was furious. Someone was threatening you.

You might wonder why he cared so much if you were no longer together. But the truth was, your breakup hadn’t been clean. Love still lingered between the two of you, unresolved and undeniable. But Chenle’s possessiveness and jealousy were what had driven you apart in the first place.

And now, they might just pull you back into his orbit again.

You ran as fast as your legs could carry you, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. You didn’t stop until you stumbled into an old, abandoned building, the kind of place where every creak of the floorboards felt like a warning. You pressed yourself against a wall, your heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the world around you.

You should’ve known better than to date the son of the Zhong Group. His world was nothing like yours, and loving him only seemed to invite chaos. But in your defense, you hadn’t fallen for the heir to an empire. You’d fallen for Chenle—the sweet, charming boy who’d walked into the store where you worked and made your heart skip a beat with nothing more than his disarming smile.

Now here you were, hiding for your life.

You heard footsteps.

Your body froze, every muscle tense as you held your breath.

The sound grew louder, closer. You were sure you were going to die. Your heart threatened to explode as you closed your eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

But instead of the worst, you heard a voice.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyes snapped open. Standing in front of you, his expression a mix of concern and fury, was him.

“Chenle?” you whispered, your voice trembling. Tears threatened to spill, but you willed them to stay in. Not now. Not in front of him.

His gaze softened, but only slightly. He knew you too well—every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. He’d spent months studying you, memorizing every detail, so he could always make sure you were okay. So he could protect you from anything that might hurt you.

“Why didn’t you tell me that crazy bitch is after you?” he asked, his voice low but sharp with hurt.

You hesitated, guilt pooling in your chest. “I thought she just wanted to scare me a little bit" you admitted. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t the full truth. You also knew what she was capable of—and the dangerous connections she had in the city.

Chenle’s jaw clenched, his expression hardening. “You’re coming with me” he said, grabbing your arm with a firm but careful grip. His eyes darted around, always alert, scanning for any threats.

There was no point arguing. You knew better than to go against him when he was like this. Reluctantly, you let him lead you out of the building, your fear now replaced by a storm of conflicting emotions.

You weren’t sure if you were running from danger—or back into it.

----

Chenle brought you to his sprawling mansion, where the gates opened effortlessly as the security team let you in. The moment you stepped inside, memories rushed back, flooding your mind with bittersweet clarity.

The couch in the living room—it was where you shared your first kiss, lost in each other’s embrace. The kitchen held the warmth of late-night dinners you made for him, the air filled with laughter and soft music. And the living room, once a haven for dancing in his arms, also bore the weight of arguments, tears, and the sound of breaking glass. You could still feel the echo of your heart shattering with every fight.

“You know the place” he said softly, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I still have some of your clothes upstairs. Take a shower and get comfortable.”

You nodded, unable to argue, and quietly followed his instructions.

You stayed in the guest room this time, not the master bedroom. You weren’t his girlfriend anymore—just a guest in the house you once called a second home. After showering and changing, you made your way downstairs. Chenle had also cleaned up, now dressed in casual clothes, his hair still damp. He stood in the kitchen, cooking your favorite dish.

“It smells good” you said, breaking the silence.

“Wait until you taste it” he replied with a small laugh.

For a moment, this was your Chenle—the sweet, playful boy who had made you fall head over heels. The boy whose smile could make your heart race. You couldn’t help but notice how his hair had grown longer, how he’d lost weight since you last saw him. He still looked as handsome as ever, maybe even more so.

When the food was ready, he served it with care, waiting for your verdict. You took one bite and gave him a thumbs up, smiling at him. That small gesture made Chenle’s lips curve into a faint smile, but you could see it—the longing in his eyes, the ache that mirrored your own.

He had missed you as much as you missed him, maybe even more.

“My men are taking care of the problem” he said after a moment, his voice firm. “She won’t bother you anymore. I promise.”

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over you, though you didn’t trust yourself to speak.

The two of you ate in silence for a while, the quiet only broken when Chenle finally spoke. “How’s your life going?” His voice was cautious, almost afraid of the answer.

“It could be better, I guess” you admitted. “Yours?”

“Hell” he said bluntly, locking eyes with you. The honesty in his voice caught you off guard, leaving you speechless.

“Y/N” he began, his tone softening. “Please, give me another chance. I swear, I’ll make it work this time.”

Your breath hitched. His words tugged at your heart, but the scars from the past were still there, raw and unhealed. “I don’t know, Chenle” you whispered, tears finally spilling over. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“But you’re already hurting without me” he countered, his voice cracking. “Is it worth being hurt without someone you love by your side?”

For the first time, you saw Chenle cry. He stood and walked over to you, pulling you into his arms as if his very life depended on it.

“Please” he pleaded, his voice trembling. “Just one chance, and I’ll make it work. I swear.”

You looked up at him, your tears mingling with his. Slowly, you extended your pinky. “You promise? No more fights?”

His lips curved into a faint smile, and he hooked his pinky around yours. “I promise" he whispered.

The promise was sealed with a kiss. It was desperate and passionate, a kiss filled with all the love and longing you had both kept bottled up. It wasn’t long before things heated up, and Chenle lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to his room.

He placed you on the bed as if you were made of glass, his lips never straying far from yours. His hands roamed your body with reverence, like he was afraid this moment might slip away.

That night, Chenle worshiped every inch of you. His lips mapped your skin, trailing kisses along places he hadn’t touched in what felt like a lifetime.

“You’re mine" he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “No one else will ever make me feel the way you do.”

His kisses were desperate yet tender, as if he was trying to make up for every fight, every tear, and every second spent apart. He whispered I love you like a prayer, each word carrying the weight of his devotion. To Chenle, you weren’t just someone he loved—you were his everything, his reason to keep going.

When your bodies came together, it wasn’t just passion—it was a silent promise, unspoken but deeply understood. In his arms, the pain of the past began to fade, replaced by a love so consuming it felt like nothing else in the world mattered

By morning, Chenle woke first. He propped himself up on one elbow, watching you sleep. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your arm as he let himself take in every detail of your peaceful expression. He had missed this—missed you—more than words could ever express.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling him from his thoughts. He reached for it quickly, careful not to wake you.

“Yes?” he answered quietly.

“It’s done” Jeno reported on the other end. “She won’t be a problem anymore.”

Chenle exhaled, relief flooding his chest. “Good job” he said before hanging up.

Turning back to you, he couldn’t help but smile. You stirred moments later, your eyes fluttering open.

“Good morning” you said, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Good morning, love” he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“What time is it?” you asked, glancing at the window to see sunlight streaming through.

“It’s time to make love, angel” he teased with a mischievous smirk, his hands already pulling you closer.

You laughed softly, shaking your head, but didn’t resist when he kissed you again.

And he kept his promise. There were no more fights, no more toxicity. For the first time, your relationship felt steady, whole. Chenle worked to be partner you deserved, and you found yourself falling for him all over again.

[ Simon says ]

mark x f!reader | best friend's sister au | university au

INTRO: You grew up with Mark, your older brother’s best friend—always there, always by your side, but never really seeing you. Not like that. For years, you watched him from the sidelines, hidden behind your feelings. But something shifted when you both ended up at the same university. You’d grown up, and so had he. Suddenly, he was no longer the untouchable figure in your life. He noticed you in a way that made your heart race, and so, a game began.

warnings. Slightly suggestive

Lowkey inspired by: Simon says by YC Banks

----

You don’t remember a day when Mark wasn’t part of your world. Your older brother’s best friend was practically a permanent fixture in your life—he was there at every family barbecue, every holiday, and every lazy Saturday when Haechan and Mark would commandeer the living room for video game marathons.

For as long as you could remember, he’d been part of the scenery, someone you thought you’d never look at differently. But somewhere along the way, your feelings shifted—quietly, but all at once.

You realized it that Christmas when you were barely a teenager. You weren’t old enough to fully understand the flutter in your chest when Mark smiled at you, but you knew it was different. That day, he’d spent hours in the snow with your family, helping your dad untangle lights and laughing as your brother pelted him with snowballs. You’d stayed inside by the window, watching from a distance.

And then there was that moment—he walked in, brushing snow from his dark hair, cheeks flushed from the cold, and he caught your gaze.

“What?” he asked, tilting his head slightly with a grin.

You shook your head, feeling your face heat up. “Nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. It was everything.

You didn’t know how to handle it at first. You were young, awkward, and caught somewhere between growing up and staying the same. Mark was older, confident, and so completely out of reach.

In your mind, he was untouchable. He was your brother’s best friend, practically family, and there was no way he’d ever see you as more than the kid sister who trailed after them when she wasn’t supposed to. So, you tucked your feelings away, like folded letters you’d never send.

----

In your defenses you did try to get over him but Mark had always been there—a steady presence in your life. He was there when you had your first heartbreak, offering a kind smile and a joking, “Want me to beat him up?” He was there when you aced your finals, cheering louder than even your own brother. And he was there in the quiet moments too—helping you carry groceries inside, draping his jacket over your shoulders when you forgot yours, and teasing you with a warmth that always felt more affectionate than annoying.

But as much as he was there, he never really saw you. Not in the way you wanted him to.

The years passed, and somewhere along the way, everything shifted. You got into the same university as him and Haechan, and suddenly, Mark wasn’t just a constant in the background—he was everywhere. Classes, dorm hangouts, campus events. The spaces you used to watch him from felt smaller, closer.

And you weren’t the same person anymore. You had grown up. Gone were the awkward teenage years, replaced with a quiet confidence you’d never had before. People noticed, and for the first time, the attention was on you.

“You’re, like, a campus crush now” Jisung —your best friend, teased one afternoon, sprawled out on your bed with his phone in hand.

“Stop” you groaned, throwing a pillow at him.

He dodged it effortlessly, laughing. “I’m serious! You’ve got guys from the music department asking me if you’re single. It’s wild.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny that you liked the attention—especially when Mark was around to see it.

At first, it seemed like nothing more than coincidence. Mark and Haechan would “accidentally” show up wherever you were. A guy from your economics class walked you to the library once, only for Mark to appear out of nowhere, his tone casually cutting but firm as he said, “We’re late for dinner.”

You frowned after the guy left. “Seriously, Mark?”

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“You and Haechan are acting like bodyguards. It’s ridiculous.”

He gave you a look—one that made your stomach twist. “We’re just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need looking after” you said, folding your arms. “I’m not a kid anymore”

His jaw tightened slightly. For a moment, he just stared at you, and you thought you saw something flicker in his expression—something that made your heart race. But he just sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. I know.”

----

Still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things had changed between you. He wasn’t just watching anymore; he was noticing.

But you didn’t want to wait for Mark to figure out how he felt. So, you did something bold. You started leaving him notes—anonymous and playful.

The first one was simple. A small folded square slipped into his backpack while he wasn’t looking.

“Simon says, don’t forget to smile today.”

You watched from across the library as he unfolded it, his lips twitching upward in a small, private smile.

The second note came a week later, tucked under his coffee cup while he went to the bathroom.

“Simon says, meet me at the library at 6. Third floor, back corner.”

You stayed hidden behind the shelves, watching as he sat in the designated spot, confused when no one showed up. That night, you left another note in his bag.

“Good things come to those who wait.”

The notes became a game—a way to say what you couldn’t say out loud. One day, you taped one to the inside of his locker at the gym:

“Simon says, stop looking at your phone during workouts. Eyes forward, baby.”

Later, after he found it, he looked around, as if searching for someone. You could see the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, the way his curiosity was growing but also his frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. He wanted to know who was behind the notes, but you weren’t ready to reveal yourself. Not yet.

But deep down, you were dying to know what he thought. What he felt. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was starting to piece it together, or if the notes were just making things more confusing for him.

One evening, after you’d rejected yet another guy and Mark had stepped in to "rescue" you as usual, the two of you went out for ice cream. It was a casual hangout, the kind you’d had a million times before—joking, laughing, sharing silly stories. But tonight, something felt different. Mark was quieter than usual, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced with an odd tension.

“Everything okay?” you asked, breaking the silence as you took a bite of your ice cream. You couldn’t help but notice the way he was staring into his cup, his expression unreadable.

Mark glanced up at you, his eyes almost too intense. “You know I’ve been getting notes, right?”

You froze, feeling your heartbeat quicken. “Notes? From who?” You feigned innocence, but inside, your mind was racing. He couldn’t have figured it out, could he?

He sighed, the frustration in his voice evident now. “I don’t know. But it’s driving me insane.” He shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable. “They’re just little things... ‘Simon says’ this, ‘Simon says’ that.”

You looked down at your ice cream, not trusting yourself to look him in the eye. “Maybe it’s just a joke. Someone messing with you.”

Mark shook his head, his eyes hardening a little. “It’s not a joke, Y/N. I feel like... it’s like someone’s trying to send me a message”

You swallowed, wondering how much more of this you could handle. But you didn’t say anything. You didn’t need to. You didn’t want him to know yet.

What you didn’t know was how badly he wanted you to be the one behind the notes. Even if it meant breaking the stupid rules of his and Haechan’s friendship, even if it meant risking everything—he would have done anything to have you notice him. He wanted to be the one who could finally see you in a way no one else could.

And as much as he tried to hide it, he was desperate.

But he kept it to himself. He had to. He wasn’t sure how to handle it yet. How to tell you that, maybe, he wanted more than just friendship.

You were lost in your thoughts, too, trying to suppress the guilt building up inside you. He was so close to the truth, but you weren’t ready to break your own walls down just yet.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mark let out a heavy breath. “I just... need to know who’s doing this. It’s messing with my head.”

But neither of you said anything more, both of you silently acknowledging that there were too many unspoken things between you now. The game had changed. And neither of you were ready to admit what that meant.

----

It was Mark who made the next and final move. You found his response waiting for you on the table he always sits in the library, scrawled on the back of one of your notes:

“Enough games. Meet me at Jeno’s party—upstairs, second door on the left.”

The night of the party, you stood in front of your mirror, smoothing down the black dress you’d picked out. It clung to you in all the right ways, paired perfectly with the soft curls falling over your shoulders. Beneath it all, a matching lingerie set hugged your skin—a quiet hope for what the night might hold.

The party was already packed when you arrived, the bass of the music thrumming through the walls. You weaved through the crowd, ignoring the lingering stares as you made your way upstairs.

When you reached the second door on the left, you hesitated for a moment before turning the handle.

Inside, Mark was sitting on the edge of the bed, his phone in hand. When he looked up and saw you, his expression shifted—confusion, realization, and something else you couldn’t quite name.

“It was you" he said, standing slowly.

You nodded, your heart pounding. “It was me.”

“It all makes sense now" he murmured, his eyes sweeping over you. “The notes. The games. You’ve been driving me insane.”

“I know… I just wanted you to notice me as more than Haechan’s sister.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asked, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“I—” You didn’t know what to say. “You’re my brother’s best friend, Mark. You’ve always been untouchable.”

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Untouchable? Do you even know what it’s been like watching you these past few years? You’re all I see. I had to restrain myself not to get too close.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “What?”

He stepped closer, his voice softer now, but the intensity in his eyes was undeniable. “I watched you grow into someone incredible, and it’s been driving me crazy trying to keep my distance.”

You looked at him, barely able to breathe. The game had always been fun, but now everything felt real—too real.

“Simon says, stop wasting time" you said softly, your voice laced with desire as you stepped closer.

And that was all it took.

Mark closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. The taste of him, the heat, the urgency—it was like a storm had broken free between the two of you.

As you pulled back, his breath was heavy, his hands gripping your waist. His voice was low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine. “Simon says, get on the bed.”

Your breath caught as you obeyed, feeling the electrifying thrill of the game intensify. Mark stood over you, his eyes dark with desire. He leaned down, his hands braced on either side of you.

“Simon says, keep your eyes on me.”

You obeyed without hesitation, your gaze locked with his. The world outside the room felt distant now, the only thing that mattered was the electric charge between you two. His lips curled into a smirk, knowing full well what kind of power he had in this moment.

“Simon says, don’t move. Don’t make a sound.”

The room was charged with tension as you stayed perfectly still, your breath shallow, your heart racing. Mark’s presence consumed you, and you could tell he was savoring every second of this moment. It wasn’t just a game anymore; it was a way for him to take control and show you what he’d been holding back all this time.

With every command, you felt your body respond instinctively. He was unraveling you in the best way possible, pushing you to the edge with each whispered order.

Then, Mark leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered in a voice that was as much a promise as it was an order, “Simon says... you’re mine tonight.”

And with those words, the game was no longer about control—it was about surrender.

[ I hate the weather]

jeno x f!reader | jaemin x f!reader | love triangle

INTRO: You finally had Jeno, the boy you always wanted. But as time passed, your heart couldn’t ignore the pull you felt for Jaemin. The more you tried to change for Jeno, the more you realized the truth. It was Jaemin who had always held a piece of your heart.

Lowkey inspired by: Moth to flame by The Weeknd and Swedish House and Favourite crime by Olivia Rodrigo

----

“You should be happy” you tell yourself for the hundredth time, staring at the photo of you and Jeno on your phone. His arm draped protectively over your shoulders, his smile wide and carefree. You finally got what you always thought you wanted—a boyfriend who loved you, treated you well, and made you feel safe.

But then why does your heart ache every time Jaemin’s name pops into your mind?

It all started three months ago

Back then, it felt innocent. You had confessed your crush on Jeno to Jaemin, your best friend since childhood.

“You want me to do what?” Jaemin had asked, his voice incredulous.

“Help me” you pleaded. “Drop hints, invite him to hangouts—something.”

Jaemin frowned, his arms crossed as he leaned back on the couch. “I don’t know, Y/N. This sounds… weird.”

“It’s not weird” you countered. “Please, Jaemin. I just… I really like him.”

Jaemin had sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fine. I’ll do it. But only because I want to see you happy.”

And he did try. He invited Jeno to your usual Friday movie nights, though the result wasn’t exactly smooth. You and Jaemin argued over movies, as always, and Jeno sat awkwardly in the middle, trying not to take sides.

Then there was the Dreamies’ hangout, where instead of impressing Jeno, you managed to catch Haechan’s relentless teasing instead. Still, you learned something important that night: Jeno liked blonde hair, and he seemed drawn to girls like Yoo Jimin.

That revelation sparked a change.

The next day, while hanging out at Jaemin’s place, you blurted out a question that had been gnawing at you.

“Should I dye my hair blonde?”

Jaemin looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow. “Why? You hate blonde hair. Remember that movie we watched and you said ruined it for you?”

“Jeno likes blonde hair” you replied matter-of-factly.

Jaemin’s face darkened slightly, but he didn’t say much. “If you want to, go ahead. Just… make sure you’re doing it for you.”

A few days later, the transformation was complete. You stepped out of the bathroom at home with newly dyed blonde hair, nervously smoothing it down as you opened the door to Jaemin’s knocks.

“Y/N?”

When he saw you, he froze. His gaze lingered longer than usual, taking in your hair.

“What do you think?” you asked, doing a small twirl.

“You look good” he said finally, though his tone carried an edge you couldn’t place.

But as time went on, things started to change.

The more you learned about Jeno’s ideal type, the more you started changing to fit them. The more you tried to be the girl he would notice, the further you drifted from the version of yourself that Jaemin had always known.

You started wearing clothes that you knew Jeno would like—more fashionable, more polished. You dyed your hair blonde and even started wearing red lipstick too.

Jaemin noticed the changes. He’d watched you, his best friend, slowly morph into someone else—the someone Jeno would want, but the someone you weren’t. And it hurt.

One afternoon, you were getting ready to go out to another one of Jeno’s hangouts. You stood in front of Jaemin’s mirror, touching up your red lipstick while he watched you in silence. Finally, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

You glanced at him in the mirror, not fully focusing on his words. “Sure.”

“What’s this?” Jaemin asked, gesturing to the transformation with a sweeping motion.

“What’s what?” You were confused, still busy perfecting your lipstick.

“This” Jaemin repeated, his voice a little louder now. “The hair, the clothes, the parties—you’re not the same person anymore. You hate bold lipstick colors!”

You shrugged, applying the final coat of lipstick. “Oh, but Jeno likes it.”

The words hung in the air, and Jaemin visibly flinched. His expression shifted, his eyes clouded with hurt. “Why does it feel like I’m losing you?” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

But you didn’t respond. You didn’t know what to say. You were too busy watching Jeno, the boy you wanted.

That night, when Jeno finally noticed you the way you’d always hoped he would, Jaemin stood on the sidelines. He watched quietly, his heart sinking deeper as you slipped further away from him.

As the days passed, your relationship with Jeno, on the surface, seemed perfect. You went out on dates, spent time together in lavish places, and everyone around you admired how "ideal" the two of you were. But with each passing moment, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling deep in your chest, the one that whispered something’s not right.

Jeno, with his effortless charm and undeniable affection, was everything you thought you wanted, yet when you were with him, your mind would drift. You would catch yourself thinking about Jaemin—the way his presence brought a sense of calm, the way he always seemed to understand you without saying a word.

As the Friday nights turned into elegant dinners and crowded parties that weren’t quite your style, the memories of those simple movie nights with Jaemin, full of laughter and familiarity, started to feel like a lifetime ago. You hadn’t realized how much you missed them until it was too late. Jeno's world was exciting, but it was a world where you couldn’t always be yourself.

And so, you felt trapped. You loved Jeno, or at least you thought you did. But why did it feel like you were losing a piece of yourself every time you changed for him?

You tried to push it away—told yourself you should be happy. You had Jeno. He was everything you ever thought you wanted. But your heart wasn’t on the same page. Why did you still want to talk to Jaemin when you were sad, when you felt alone? Why, when you looked at your bedside table, did that photo of the two of you get your attention even when your boyfriend was right next to you? Why did you wish it was him laying beside you instead of Jeno?

It didn’t make sense. You had the attention you’d always craved, the validation, the relationship you’d fought for, but somehow... it felt hollow. You wanted to scream, to pull at the pieces of yourself that felt lost between the two of them.

You should’ve been happy. Why weren’t you?

----

Then the inevitable happened. Jeno and you had your first fight.

It wasn’t anything major, just a disagreement that spiraled out of control. You fought about something silly, but when his voice rose and he grew frustrated, something inside of you broke. For the first time, you saw the same tension you had witnessed at home. The yelling, the frustration, the way your parents had always argued when things went wrong.

It made you feel suffocated. Just like that day years ago. The day you ran away from home.

*FLASHBACK*

It was one of those nights where the air felt heavy, suffocating. The usual quiet of the house was shattered by the sound of raised voices—your parents. You had heard them argue before, but tonight felt different, louder, more desperate.

“I’m sick of this!” your mother shouted, the strain of her voice cutting through the walls. “I’m sick of you treating me like this, of everything we’ve become!”

Your father’s voice came back, sharp and defensive. “What do you want me to do? I’m trying my best! Do you think I’m not tired of this too?”

You sat on your bed, your heart racing, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping that if you just stayed quiet, it would stop. You wished for peace, for silence, but it didn’t come. The fighting only escalated, becoming uglier with each word.

“I don’t want to do this anymore!” your mother’s voice cracked with frustration. “I don’t want to keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not! You don’t care about me or this family anymore!”

“I care!” Your father’s voice boomed through the house. “I’ve been holding this family together, working, providing. And you just sit there and criticize me every chance you get!”

And then, you heard it. The word you dreaded most.

“I want a divorce!” Your mother screamed, the final blow.

“Y/N will stay with me!” Your father snapped back, trying to claim ownership over something you felt you had no say in.

“No! She’ll stay with me!” your mother insisted, her voice full of hurt and anger.

The sound of your name, spoken like a pawn in their war, broke you. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You didn’t care about the rain, the cold—everything just felt wrong. You needed to get away, to escape the suffocating air inside the house. You put on your shoes without thinking, ran past the door, and out into the storm.

The rain hit you hard as you ran through the streets, your legs aching from the effort, but you didn’t care. You had to leave. The cold felt almost comforting, numbing the pain that twisted inside of you.

It wasn’t long before Jaemin found you. You didn’t know how, or when, but you felt a soft tap on your shoulder and looked up to see him standing there, umbrella in hand, his concerned eyes searching yours.

“Y/N?” Jaemin’s voice was calm, but there was an undeniable worry in it. “What are you doing out here in the rain? You’ll catch a cold.”

You didn’t respond, your mind too clouded by the chaos you’d just run from. Jaemin didn’t push. Instead, he opened his umbrella wider and stepped closer to you, giving you his jacket without a word.

He sat down next to you, his presence quiet but grounding. There was no rush to fix things, no pressure to explain. He just let you be.

For a long time, neither of you said anything. The rain continued to fall around you, the only sound in the world. Jaemin broke the silence, his voice soft but knowing.

“It’s raining a lot lately” He wasn’t really talking about the rain. He was talking about everything—your parents, the fight, the storm inside your head and the way he found you crying in the middle of the street.

You took a deep breath, finally breaking your silence. “I hate the weather” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the rain.

Jaemin’s eyes softened. “I hate the weather too” he replied, his words holding more meaning than just a shared distaste for the rain. It was the quiet understanding between the two of you, the unspoken comfort.

Jaemin didn’t leave your side, not until you felt like you could breathe again.

When you were ready, he helped you back to your feet and led you back to your parents’ house.

*END OF FLASHBACK*

The rain was pouring down as you stepped outside, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t care about the weather, about the cold, or about getting wet. All you could feel was the weight on your chest, the pressure to be something you weren’t, to be the perfect version of yourself for Jeno.

You ran, just like you had all those years ago. Running from the noise, from the suffocation, from the fight that reminded you of everything that had been broken in your life.

You didn’t even notice where your feet were taking you. You just wanted to escape.

Meanwhile, Jeno was desperate. He’d searched everywhere but couldn’t find you. His last resort was calling the one person who always seemed to know where you’d be—Jaemin.

“Jaemin” Jeno’s voice cracked over the phone, “Y/N’s gone. We had a fight, and she ran off. Do you know where she might be?”

Jaemin’s heart sank. He didn’t need to think twice. “I’ll find her” he said firmly, hanging up and grabbing his car keys.

He knew exactly where you were.

----

When you found yourself standing on that familiar side street, drenched and shivering, you sank to the ground. The world felt too heavy, and you didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. You just wanted to disappear, to forget about everything—Jeno, the changes you’d made, the fight.

But then, like before, someone appeared.

Jaemin.

He had found you again, it was like stepping into a memory.

“Y/N” Jaemin said softly, rushing to your side and holding an umbrella over your head, just like he had years ago. “What are you doing out here in the rain? You’re not even wearing a jacket. You’ll catch a cold.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You just sat there, too exhausted to move. Jaemin slipped his jacket off and draped it over you, sitting down beside you in silence.

And for the first time in weeks, you didn’t feel alone. You didn’t feel suffocated.

“Some things never change, huh?” Jaemin said, breaking the silence softly.

You looked at him, your heart aching as the rain soaked you both. “I hate the weather” you said, your voice barely audible.

Jaemin’s eyes softened as he replied, “I hate the weather too.”

For a while, you just sat there, both of you seeking comfort in the quiet, in the simple act of being there for each other.

Jaemin brought you back to your apartment, helping you inside with quiet care. When the door opened, Jeno was waiting. His eyes widened at the sight of you—soaked and shivering, wrapped in Jaemin’s jacket.

“Y/N!” he rushed over, his hands cupping your face. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You didn’t respond. You pulled away gently, muttering, “I need a shower” before disappearing into the bathroom.

Jeno watched you leave, his expression a mix of guilt and confusion. When he turned back, he found Jaemin standing by the door.

“I don’t know what happened” Jeno confessed, his voice full of worry. “I didn’t mean to upset her. I just…”

“I think you should give her some space” Jaemin said quietly. His tone wasn’t accusatory, just… resigned.

Jeno nodded, though his face tightened. “Thanks for bringing her back.”

Jaemin didn’t reply. He just nodded, his gaze lingering on the closed bathroom door for a moment before he left.

While under the hot spray of the shower, you let the tears fall freely. You had everything you thought you wanted—Jeno, the perfect boyfriend, the dream relationship.

But as you stood there, your heart ached. Not for the boy waiting for you in the other room.

For the one who had found you in the rain.

For the one who had always found you.

----

The weeks after weren’t easy. A crack opened in your relationship with Jeno, and you began to pull away, unsure of what to say or how to explain the distance that was growing between you both. Jeno noticed, of course, but every time he asked, you brushed him off with excuses. The truth was, you weren’t sure how to explain the whirlwind of emotions inside you, or how to face the growing realization that your heart was no longer with him.

One cold night, Jaemin found you in front of his house, looking utterly broken.

“Y/N?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern. Without waiting for you to say a word, he pulled you into his arms. At first, you couldn’t even speak. The flood of emotions you had been keeping inside for weeks came pouring out. You started to cry in his embrace, shaking with the weight of it all.

Jaemin held you tighter, never letting go, whispering comforting words as you cried. He didn’t ask questions, just let you let it all out, feeling the raw emotion that you had carried for so long. When your sobs slowed down, he pulled back slightly, still holding you gently.

“Here” he said, handing you a steaming mug of hot chocolate—the one thing that always made you feel a little better when life felt too heavy. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you.

You took a sip, trying to steady your breathing, but it didn’t make the confusion inside you go away. Jaemin sat beside you, watching you silently. After a while, he asked quietly, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You hesitated, unsure if you had the strength to put it into words. But somehow, in his presence, it felt like you could say anything.

“I... I feel so lost” you whispered, the tears threatening to return. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I should be happy, but it’s like something inside me is telling me I’m not. I’m with Jeno, but... It doesn’t feel right, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

Jaemin didn’t say anything for a moment. His hand reached out, and he gently stroked your hair, his touch soft and comforting. “It’s okay” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You’re going to be okay. Let it out. I’m here.”

The warmth of his words settled over you, but it was the closeness, the way he held you, that made everything else fade away. In that moment, everything felt like it finally made sense. You weren’t alone in this. You hadn’t been alone for a long time, but you had been too scared to admit it.

And in that silence, surrounded by his presence, the truth spilled from your lips.

“I— I’ve been trying so hard to make things work with Jeno, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I know it’s wrong, but it’s like... my heart is telling me that you’re the one I’ve always wanted. Not him. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Jaemin’s breath caught at your words, his gaze locking onto yours. He seemed surprised, but there was a sadness in his eyes, a softness that made your heart ache even more.

“Y/N” he began, his voice gentle but filled with emotion. “I’ve always loved you. You were just too obvious about it. Why do you think I’m still single, even when you know there are so many girls after me? I’ve always wanted you.”

The confession hung in the air, filling the space between you with a weight you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to lean in, to close the distance and let everything out, but something held you back. The reality of your relationship with Jeno, the guilt, the fear of what this would mean, kept you frozen.

Jaemin leaned in slightly, his lips on your forehead“i want to kiss but I can’t... you’re still with him.”

Your heart clenched at the words. You knew he was right, but it didn’t make the truth any easier to accept.

“I know” you whispered, your voice shaky. “But I’m going to break up with him soon. I can’t keep lying to myself. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help how I feel.”

Jaemin’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the tension was almost unbearable. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes held everything—everything you had both been too scared to admit until now.

The lingering words between you both pulled you closer, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could finally breathe.

But Jaemin, with all his care for you, took a step back, his expression full of understanding. "Whenever you're ready, Y/N," he said quietly, "I'll be here. But you need to figure this out... for yourself."

And you realized in that moment, the hardest part wasn't admitting how you felt—it was knowing what you had to do next.

----

The day after your conversation with Jaemin, you invited Jeno over. It was time to be honest. Time to confront everything that had built up between you two, to explain how you had changed, how you had tried to mold yourself into the version of you that you thought he wanted.

Jeno sat across from you, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and hurt as he waited for you to speak. You took a deep breath before you started.

“Jeno, I... I’ve been pretending. I changed for you, thinking that this was what I had to do to get your attention,” you said, your voice trembling a little. “The hair, the clothes, the way I acted. It wasn’t me. It was just... a version of me that I thought you’d like.”

Jeno’s gaze softened, but there was disbelief in his eyes. “So I always loved a version of you that you created?” he asked quietly, his voice holding a tinge of sadness.

You nodded, unable to look him in the eye. “I thought that’s what I had to do to make things work with you.”

There was a long silence between you two as he processed your words. His fingers twitched slightly, as if he wanted to reach out to you but didn’t know how.

“But I don’t think that’s entirely true” Jeno said after a moment, his voice gentle yet firm. “I think there were a lot of times when you were just... you. The real you.”

You looked up at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “That could be true” you whispered, your heart pounding. "But I didn’t know how to balance it. I thought I had to change to fit into this perfect image of what I thought you wanted."

Jeno’s expression grew more serious, his brow furrowing slightly. “But I won’t lie. I’m hurt, Y/N. I’m hurt that you felt like you had to change to get me to notice you.” His voice trembled with a mix of frustration and sadness. “I thought we were already fine just being ourselves around each other. I never needed that perfect version of you. I just needed you.”

The confession hit you harder than you expected. You hadn’t realized how deeply your attempts to change had affected him, how much he had cared for the person you were beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry” you whispered, your heart aching for him. “I never meant to hurt you. I just... I didn’t know what to do. I was confused.”

Jeno sighed, looking down for a moment, before meeting your eyes again. “I understand that you were confused, but it doesn’t make it any easier. It’s hard, Y/N. I thought we had something real, but now I’m wondering if I was just falling in love with a version of you that wasn’t even... you.”

His words stung, but there was an honesty to them that you couldn’t ignore. You wanted to reach out to him, to apologize again, but the words didn’t come.

“I think we both need to take a step back and figure things out” Jeno said softly, standing up from the couch. “I need time to process all of this... and so do you.”

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the situation press down on you. “Yeah... I think that’s the best thing to do.”

Jeno hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you as if he wanted to say something else, but he just shook his head and walked toward the door. “Take care of yourself, Y/N” he said quietly before stepping outside, leaving you alone with the mess of emotions swirling inside.

You couldn’t help but feel like you had lost something important, but at the same time, you knew that it was the right thing to do.

-----

Seven months had passed since that moment, and in those months, you had done a lot of healing. After taking some time to yourself, focusing on finding out who you were without anyone else’s expectations weighing you down, you found the courage to follow your heart. And it led you to Jaemin.

You and Jaemin had been inseparable ever since you began dating, and eventually, it just made sense for you to live together. It was as if you'd been living with each other in spirit long before the move—always crashing at one another’s places, always finding comfort in each other’s presence.

Jaemin had been the one to convince you to adopt three cats—Luna, Lucy, and Luke—and you were honestly grateful. The apartment had become your little haven, complete with furry companions who brought so much life and joy into your days. The sound of purring had become one of your favorite melodies.

As you were preparing dinner one evening, you felt the familiar warmth of arms wrapping around you from behind. You couldn’t help but smile, already knowing who it was.

“Smells good.Do you need help?” Jaemin’s voice was soft, his breath warm against your ear.

You placed a hand on top of his, squeezing it lightly as you continued to chop the vegetables. “It’ll taste even better once it’s done” you said, a playful tone lacing your words. "You’ve been working hard today, haven’t you?"

Jaemin leaned in closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Not nearly as hard as you” he replied, his voice filled with admiration. "But I’m always happy to help, especially if it means being with you."

You let out a soft laugh, turning your head slightly to meet his gaze. "I’m glad you’re here” you whispered, feeling a warmth spread across your chest. "I wouldn’t want anyone else with me."

Jaemin’s smile softened, and he kissed your cheek gently. He looked at you with so much affection, as if the years you had spent together and all the feelings he'd kept inside were finally making sense. "I always knew you were the one” he murmured, his voice full of certainty. "I just didn’t know how long it would take for you to realize it, too."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a moment. "I feel the same way” you said softly. "It took time, but I know now."

Jaemin pulled you into a tight hug, his warmth surrounding you as he whispered, "We’ve made it through everything, Y/N. And now, it’s just us, always."

It had taken time to get here, but now, everything felt right. The past was behind you, and the future, with Jaemin by your side, seemed full of endless possibilities. The love you shared was a quiet kind of happiness, built on trust, understanding, and shared moments that made everything feel so effortless.

No more doubts, no more pretending. Just you, Jaemin, and your three cats in your little world, exactly where you were meant to be.

"I wouldn't change this for anything in the world” you whispered, your hand finding his once again, squeezing it tightly.

[Give me my Romeo]

haechan x f!reader | theater club | romeo and juliet au

INTRO: What started as a rivalry on the stage became something neither of you expected. Cast as Romeo and Juliet in your university’s theater production, you and Haechan were forced to confront not only the tensions of your roles but the growing spark between you. What happens when the lines between acting and reality blur, and the final curtain brings more than just applause?

wc: 6.1k

NOTE: I never read Romeo and Juliet in English so I had to search online for some parts of the act, sorry if there's any mistake🙏

----

The dimly lit auditorium buzzed with nervous energy as students filtered in, clutching scripts and notebooks. The annual play auditions at NCTU’s theater club were legendary, and this year, they’d chosen the timeless tragedy Romeo and Juliet. Everyone wanted a role, but only two parts truly mattered—Romeo and Juliet.

You sat in the second row, scanning the script you’d practically memorized. The club director, Ms. Lee, paced near the stage with her clipboard, her sharp gaze flicking over the students as if she were sizing up a battlefield.

And then, he walked in.

Lee Donghyuck—or Haechan, as he insisted everyone call him—strode into the auditorium like he owned it. He was NCTU’s resident golden boy: charming, talented, and insufferably arrogant. His honey-brown hair caught the light as he ran a hand through it, grinning at his entourage of sycophants trailing behind him.

Your stomach churned. “Of course he’s here” you muttered under your breath.

“Why wouldn’t he be?” your best friend Yeri whispered back, glancing at him. “You know he’s going for Romeo”

“And I’m going for Juliet” you said, straightening your back. “Let’s just hope the universe has some sense of mercy and doesn’t pair me with him.”

The rivalry between you and Haechan was practically the stuff of legends. Ever since he transferred to NCTU last year and stole the spotlight in the spring musical, you’d been at odds. He was talented—you couldn’t deny that—but his cocky attitude and penchant for pushing your buttons made him unbearable.

“Alright, everyone, settle down!” Ms. Lee clapped her hands, silencing the chatter. “As you know, today we’re auditioning for the lead roles. I’ll be pairing you up for readings, and I want to see chemistry. Convince me you’re star-crossed lovers.”

That would be an easy task unless your partner is Haechan.

Ms. Lee called names, pairing students for the preliminary rounds. You watched as one by one, hopefuls took the stage, some stumbling over their lines, others showing promise. Then, the inevitable happened.

“Y/N and Haechan, you’re up” Ms. Lee announced, barely glancing up from her clipboard.

Your jaw clenched. You glanced at Yeri, who gave you an apologetic shrug, and stood, smoothing your shirt. Haechan was already swaggering toward the stage, his signature smirk plastered across his face.

“Try not to ruin this for me” he said under his breath as you climbed the stairs.

“Funny, I was about to say the same to you” you shot back, taking your place center stage.

The scene was Act I, Scene 5—the fateful moment when Romeo and Juliet meet at the Capulet’s masquerade ball. Ms. Lee explained the context briefly before nodding for you to begin.

Haechan started, his voice smooth and melodic. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss”

You suppressed an eye roll and focused on delivering your line. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss”

The words felt electric in the air, but not because of any real connection between you and Haechan. It was tension—raw, palpable tension that made your voice sharper and his gaze more intense. You could feel Ms. Lee watching closely, her pen hovering over the clipboard.

When the scene ended, there was a beat of silence before Ms. Lee spoke. “Interesting. Thank you, both of you. Next pair, please.”

As you descended the stage, you caught Haechan’s smirk. “Not bad” he said. “For someone who’s clearly out of her depth.”

“Oh, please” you shot back. “You’re just lucky I’m carrying this performance.”

“We’ll see who’s carrying who when the roles are announced” he replied, walking off with that maddening confidence.

Two days later…

The cast list was posted. A small crowd had already gathered around the bulletin board when you arrived, and you pushed your way through, heart pounding. Your eyes scanned the sheet until you found it:

Romeo: Lee Donghyuck

Juliet: Y/N

You stared at the names, the reality sinking in like a stone in water. Your breath caught in your throat.

“No way” you whispered, your mind reeling.

Yeri appeared beside you, looking over your shoulder. “Well, looks like fate’s got a twisted sense of humor” she said, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "You and Haechan... this is gonna be something"

From behind you, a familiar voice spoke, smooth as ever. “Looks like we’re stuck together, Juliet”

You turned to find Haechan grinning down at you, his expression equal parts smug and amused.

“This is going to be a disaster” you muttered, half to yourself.

“Or a masterpiece” he countered, winking.

Yeri groaned as she read the list. “Great. Now I have to hear you complain about him for the next two months” She glanced over at Haechan, who was already swaggering off, completely unfazed. “Can’t believe you’re actually going to have to kiss him on stage. You okay with that?”

You shot her a side-eye, feeling your cheeks warm slightly at the thought. “No. I’m not okay with it. At all” you said, your tone biting more than you meant it to. “But it’s not like I have a choice”

Yeri smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Well, if anyone can make something work, it’s you. Just remember, it’s acting. You can survive this.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “This is going to be the greatest challenge of my life.”

“Or the greatest performance” Haechan added from behind you, strolling away with a wave. "See you at rehearsal, Juliet"

Gosh, how cocky can he be?

And just like that, the stage was set for the greatest challenge of your theater career.

----

The first week of rehearsals was a complete disaster.

You showed up early every day, determined to prove you were the better actor. Yeri cheered you on from the sidelines, offering moral support and running lines with you during breaks. But no amount of preparation could prepare you for dealing with Haechan.

“You’re stepping on my cue” you snapped during the third run-through of Act II, Scene 2—the infamous balcony scene.

Haechan leaned casually against the mock balcony railing, his expression infuriatingly relaxed. “I’m not stepping on your cue. You’re just late delivering your line.”

“Late?” Your voice rose an octave. “I’m perfectly on time. Maybe if you stopped ad-libbing every other word, we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

“It’s called artistic interpretation” he replied with a smirk. “You should try it sometime.”

“Alright, that’s enough” Ms. Lee interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Both of you, take five.”

You stormed off stage, muttering under your breath. Yeri was waiting in the wings, holding out a bottle of water. “I take it things are going well?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“He’s impossible” you hissed, taking the water and gulping it down. “He thinks he’s God’s gift to theater.”

“To be fair, he’s pretty good” Yeri pointed out, earning a glare from you. “Okay, okay, don’t kill me. I’m just saying maybe you should try working with him instead of against him.”

“I’d rather eat this script” you replied, waving the booklet in your hand.

Rehearsals continued, and the tension between you and Haechan only grew. He had a knack for getting under your skin, whether it was by subtly correcting your blocking or making snarky comments about your delivery. But as much as you hated to admit it, there were moments when his talent shone through.

During one rehearsal, Ms. Lee had you run the balcony scene again, this time with more emotion. “I want to feel the longing, the desperation" she instructed. “You’re two people who are willing to defy the world for each other. Make me believe it.”

You took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage. Haechan was already in position, looking uncharacteristically serious. As the scene unfolded, something shifted. His voice was softer, more earnest, and his gaze held a vulnerability that caught you off guard.

“With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls” he said, his words carrying a quiet intensity. “For stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do that dares love attempt; therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me”

For a moment, you forgot about your rivalry, about the barbs and bickering. You were Juliet, and he was Romeo. And for the first time, you felt the spark of something real. His sincerity made your heart flutter unexpectedly, and you had to fight to keep your composure.

When the scene ended, the auditorium was silent. Ms. Lee clapped her hands once. “Much better” she said. “That’s what I want to see.”

You glanced at Haechan, expecting a smirk or a snide remark, but he simply nodded, his expression unreadable. His usual cocky smile was absent, and something about that made your stomach twist in a way you weren’t ready to admit.

As you walked off stage, Yeri was waiting with a knowing smile.

“What?” you asked, frowning.

“Nothing” she said, grinning. “It’s just... you two might actually pull this off.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small part of you wondered if she might be right. There was something different in the air, something you couldn't quite place. Something that made the idea of this performance—of working with Haechan—suddenly feel... possible.

----

The tension in rehearsals began to shift after that balcony scene. Something unspoken lingered between you and Haechan, neither of you willing to acknowledge it directly. Instead, it seeped into your performances, turning your clashes into something raw and electric.

Ms. Lee noticed the change, of course. “You two are finally starting to act like star-crossed lovers” she remarked one afternoon after a particularly charged run-through of the play’s climactic tomb scene. “Keep it up.”

Despite the progress onstage, your relationship offstage remained rocky. Haechan still found ways to annoy you, whether it was by "accidentally" stealing your water bottle or offering unsolicited critiques of your delivery. But now, there were moments when his teasing felt... lighter. Playful, even.

One rainy afternoon, the rehearsal was canceled due to a power outage. You and Yeri decided to stay behind and run lines in the empty theater, but Haechan showed up too, claiming he needed the quiet to work on his monologues.

“You can’t possibly concentrate with us here” you said, eyeing him suspiciously as he sprawled across the front row of seats.

“I can ignore you just fine” he shot back, flipping open his script.

An hour later, you were struggling through one of Juliet’s monologues when he interrupted.

“Pause” Haechan said, sitting up. “You’re rushing through it. Juliet’s conflicted, but she’s not frantic. Give the words more space to breathe.”

You bristled, but Yeri nudged you. “He’s right” she admitted reluctantly.

“Fine” you said, exhaling sharply. “Show me how you’d do it, Mr. Perfect.”

To your surprise, Haechan didn’t smirk or gloat. He simply stood, walked to the stage, and began reciting Juliet’s lines. His voice was softer than you’d ever heard, layered with a vulnerability that made the words ache.

"O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek!"

When he finished, the theater was silent. You swallowed hard, unwilling to admit just how much he’d moved you.

“Not bad” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

“High praise coming from you” he replied with a small grin. “Your turn”

You hesitated, then took a deep breath and tried again. This time, you let the words settle, drawing on the emotions you’d seen him convey. The pause before you spoke felt longer this time, your thoughts swirling around his sudden honesty.

"O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!"

When you finished, Haechan nodded.

“Better” he said simply, his tone lacking the usual sarcasm.

That wasn’t the last time you met a new side of Haechan. One evening, after a particularly grueling rehearsal, you found yourself alone in the auditorium. The stage was empty, the lights dimmed, but you lingered, flipping through your script and mouthing the lines to yourself. The world seemed quieter in these moments, as if the theater itself were holding its breath.

“You’re still here?”

The voice startled you, and you turned to see Haechan leaning against the doorway, his bag slung over one shoulder. “Didn’t think you were the type to overwork yourself.”

“And I didn’t think you cared” you shot back, though your tone lacked its usual bite. “What are you still doing here?”

He shrugged, walking closer. “Sometimes it’s hard to leave. Feels like the stage pulls you back, doesn’t it?”

You nodded despite yourself. There was something about the theater—the way it transformed you, made you feel larger than life, even when you felt small. “Yeah. It does.”

Haechan set his bag down and perched on the edge of the stage. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence stretching like a taut string between you. Then, to your surprise, he broke it.

“You know, it wasn’t always like this for me” he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Theater, I mean. I used to hate it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You? Mr. Theater Club Golden Boy? Hard to believe”

He let out a short laugh. “Yeah, well, my parents pushed me into it when I was a kid. Thought it would make me more confident or something. At first, it was just… exhausting. Trying to live up to everyone’s expectations.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “What changed?”

“I don’t know” he admitted, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “One day, I realized that being on stage was the only place where I felt like I could breathe. Where I didn’t have to be perfect, even if everyone expected me to be”

The raw honesty in his voice caught you off guard. You’d always seen Haechan as this unshakable force, someone who thrived on confidence and charisma. Hearing him admit to struggles you’d never imagined made him feel… human.

“I get that” you said quietly. “It’s like, when you’re on stage, nothing else matters. Not school, not family, not… whatever else is going wrong. It’s just you and the story.”

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours. For once, there was no hint of mockery or arrogance in his expression. “Yeah. Exactly.”

The moment hung in the air, fragile and fleeting. You felt a strange warmth in your chest, an unfamiliar ache that you couldn’t quite name. Before you could dwell on it, Haechan smirked, breaking the spell.

“Don’t tell me I’m winning you over” he teased, his usual bravado slipping back into place.

You rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Don’t push your luck.”

The next day at rehearsal, things felt… different. The barbs you and Haechan exchanged were less pointed, playful. The chemistry Ms. Lee had demanded seemed to flow more naturally, and for the first time, you found yourself looking forward to your scenes with him.

Yeri noticed, of course. She always did.

“Okay, what’s going on?” she asked during a break, cornering you near the water cooler.

“What are you talking about?” you replied, feigning innocence.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You and Haechan. You’re… I don’t know, actually getting along?”

You hesitated, unsure how to explain. “I guess we just… called a truce or something. It’s not like we’re best friends now.”

“Hmm.” Yeri gave you a skeptical look but let the subject drop—for now.

The next major turning point came during a late-night rehearsal. Ms. Lee had insisted on running the pivotal Act V, Scene 3—the tragic finale where Romeo and Juliet meet their untimely end. The scene required raw emotion, the kind that left you drained but exhilarated.

As you and Haechan stood on stage, the weight of the moment pressed down on you. The other students watched in silence as you delivered Juliet’s lines, your voice trembling with desperation.

"O, happy dagger! This is thy sheath:

There rust, and let me die."

The dagger in your hand was just a prop, but the emotion you poured into the words felt real. As you collapsed beside Haechan, his hand found yours, his grip firm and grounding. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, the stage fading into darkness.

When the scene ended, the room erupted into applause. Ms. Lee’s voice cut through the noise, her praise uncharacteristically effusive. “That’s it! That’s what I’ve been waiting for. Incredible work, both of you.”

You sat up, breathless and slightly dazed. Haechan was still lying beside you, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips.

“See?” he murmured. “We make a good team.”

You didn’t reply, but for the first time, you wondered if he might be right.

----

It had been weeks of rehearsals, and now, the moment had arrived. The kiss. The scene that you both dreaded, the one Ms. Lee had been emphasizing from day one—“Make it real. Make it believable.” You didn’t even want to think about it.

You sat in the dimly lit theater, the final act of the play hanging in the air. The room was empty except for you and Haechan, and you could hear the sound of your own heartbeat in the stillness. You looked at him, standing there, waiting for you to move, but you couldn’t. Your feet felt like they were glued to the floor.

"So, uh... ready?" Haechan asked, his voice oddly soft, the usual playful smirk nowhere to be found.

You swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. "Not really"

Haechan’s brows furrowed slightly. "It’s just a kiss" he said, but there was something in his voice that sounded almost... uncertain? "You’ve kissed before, right?"

You gave a nervous laugh, but it sounded hollow. "Yeah of course.."

“You haven’t?” he asks and you nodded confirming

Haechan paused, his eyes softening for a moment as if he understood, but then the playful side of him came back. “Hey, don’t worry. It’s just a scene. No pressure. We got time”

But you could feel the weight of the moment. The kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was Juliet and Romeo, the pivotal moment of the play. You couldn’t do it in front of everyone like this, not yet. Not with the way your heart raced just thinking about it.

Before you could voice any more doubts, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. Ms. Lee walked into the theater, her clipboard in hand and a determined look in her eyes.

“You two ready for the kiss scene?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at both of you.

You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could get the words out, Ms. Lee gave you a pointed look.

“I know, I know,” she said. “This scene has been... difficult, but we need to make progress.”

You bit your lip, looking down at your script as if it might hold the answers. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck. You weren’t sure what was more terrifying—the fact that you had to kiss Haechan or that Ms. Lee was watching.

"Let's try it" she said, gesturing for you both to get into position.

You took your place across from Haechan, trying not to let the nerves show. The lines felt different now—he wasn’t just Romeo, and you weren’t just Juliet. You were two actors trying to make something real out of nothing.

“From the top” Ms. Lee said, her voice firm.

You and Haechan began, your words flowing more easily now that the tension had built. It felt like a dance—back and forth, moving in sync with each other.

“Thou know’st the mask of night is on my face” you said, your voice quieter than you meant it to be, but Haechan’s gaze was steady, pulling you in.

“I take thee at thy word” Haechan responded, his voice surprisingly gentle, not the usual confident tone you were used to hearing. “Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo”

The space between you was closing, the tension so palpable that you could almost taste it. But as Haechan stepped closer, you found yourself frozen in place, heart pounding in your chest.

You weren’t sure what to do—what to feel. Every part of you was screaming to just get through the scene, but the other part... the part that didn’t want to admit it, the part that felt shy, scared to let it go, was holding you back.

Just as Haechan leaned in, ready to bridge the gap and close the scene, Ms. Lee stepped forward sharply.

“Stop!”

You froze immediately, your heart dropping into your stomach. Haechan pulled back just as quickly, confusion flashing across his face.

Ms. Lee gave both of you a look that wasn’t angry, but stern. “That’s enough for today.”

“What? But... we were almost there,” Haechan said, looking between you and Ms. Lee. “What’s wrong?”

Ms. Lee shook her head. “It’s not the right time. You’re both still holding back. That kiss has to feel real. It has to come from a place of emotion, not just ‘getting through the scene.’ Right now, it’s not.”

You bit your lip, avoiding Haechan’s gaze. The tension between you both hadn’t been just for the scene; it had been real, building each time you were forced to confront it. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do it, but you didn’t want to rush into it.

“But we need to rehearse it, right?” Haechan asked, a slight edge to his voice. “Ms. Lee, we can’t just skip it.”

Ms. Lee nodded, but there was a firmness in her tone that made you want to shrink into the floor. “You’re not skipping it. But it’s not about rehearsing the kiss over and over. You need time to feel it. To make it real. The audience will feel it when it’s true. The chemistry, the tension—you can’t fake that.”

You couldn’t meet her eyes, but you knew she was right. You could feel the difference between just performing the scene and actually experiencing it. There was no faking that kind of connection, no matter how much you tried.

Ms. Lee continued. “Take some time. Work on the scene together. When you’re both ready for it, we’ll go for the kiss, and it will be as real as it needs to be.”

With that, she gave a nod and left the stage, leaving you and Haechan alone in the stillness.

The silence between you two was thick, but this time, it wasn’t as awkward as before. You took a deep breath, feeling a little lighter without Ms. Lee’s intense gaze on you.

Haechan gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You okay?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure. The air felt different now, and for a moment, you just stood there, unsure of what to say or do.

“We’ll get it.” Haechan said, breaking the silence. “When it’s time, we’ll make it real.”

You met his gaze, a small but genuine smile tugging at your lips. You didn’t know when it would happen, but maybe, just maybe, you were starting to believe him.

---

After several more rehearsals, the tension between you and Haechan seemed to settle, though there was still a quiet undercurrent that neither of you fully acknowledged. But, as Ms. Lee had said, you needed time to really feel the scene—especially the kiss. Haechan seemed to understand that now, and so, the rehearsals went on without any more awkwardness.

One evening, as you were packing up your bag after a particularly long rehearsal, Haechan caught your eye, looking unusually hesitant. You raised an eyebrow as he approached.

"Hey" he began, his voice softer than usual. "You know, we've been practicing this scene for weeks, but we barely ever talk outside of it. How about we, I don't know, hang out a little? Just... you and me"

You blinked in surprise, not expecting such an invitation. "Like... a date?" you asked, unsure if that’s what he meant.

Haechan smiled, his usual playful grin returning. "Yeah, a date" he confirmed. "Think of it as a way to get to know each other better, so it doesn’t feel so... weird when we’re on stage"

You hesitated for a moment. You'd never been on a date, not in the traditional sense, and the idea of spending time with Haechan outside of rehearsals made your heart race for all the wrong reasons. But then, you remembered his gentleness during the last rehearsal—the way he'd reassured you without making it awkward. Maybe this would help you both get more comfortable.

"Okay" you said, giving a small nod. "I guess I could do that."

Haechan’s face lit up. “Great! I know a place. I promise it’s not as weird as it sounds"

The next day, he picked you up, wearing a simple yet stylish jacket that made him look effortlessly cool. You were still nervous, but there was something about his easy confidence that made you feel like everything would be okay.

When you got to the spot he had chosen, you were surprised—it was a small, charming café tucked away in a quiet part of town, far from the busy streets. The soft glow of fairy lights hung overhead, and there was a cozy, intimate atmosphere that felt worlds away from the chaos of rehearsals.

"You didn’t tell me you were a fan of cozy cafés" you said, glancing around at the warm, inviting space.

Haechan grinned, his eyes twinkling. "There’s more to me than just rehearsals and sarcasm, you know."

The café had a relaxed vibe, and the two of you settled into a corner booth. As you chatted, it was easier than you expected. The conversation flowed naturally—about everything and nothing. You discovered that Haechan had a deep love for music and played guitar in his free time, and he learned that you loved reading and had a secret obsession with indie films. You laughed together over the silly things you shared, and for a moment, it felt like you were just two people, not actors forced to kiss in a play.

As the night went on, you realized how much more you were learning about him—the playful side, the thoughtful side, and, maybe unexpectedly, the vulnerable side. He wasn’t just the confident, teasing actor on stage. There was something deeper to him, something that made your heart flutter.

When the meal came to an end, Haechan suggested a walk through the nearby park. It was quiet, peaceful, and the night air felt crisp as you strolled side by side, occasionally brushing against each other. You could feel the connection between you growing stronger, but neither of you spoke of it directly.

Finally, you stopped in front of a small fountain, the sound of the water filling the silence. The lights from the café flickered in the distance, casting a soft glow. Haechan turned to face you, his expression serious now, no longer playful.

"I’m glad we did this" he said quietly, his voice soft. "I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes, but I wanted to give us a chance to just... be normal for once. No pressure, no stage, just us"

You met his gaze, your heart pounding a little faster. The night had been unexpectedly perfect, and you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel—like you could breathe easier with him around.

“I’m glad too” you said, your voice quiet. “I... didn’t know what to expect, but this feels nice”

There was a pause, and then Haechan stepped a little closer, his gaze not leaving yours. “You know, I think... we’ve got this. The scene, the kiss, all of it. We can do it, because we’re not just pretending anymore. This—" he gestured between the two of you, "—this feels real.”

You felt a surge of warmth spread through you, and for the first time, you didn’t feel so nervous about the kiss. Maybe it was because, right here, standing in front of him, you were starting to understand what it meant to be real. Not just for the stage, but for the two of you.

You took a deep breath and smiled. “Yeah... I think we can" you said softly, your heart telling you that Haechan wasn’t just talking about the scene anymore.

The walk back was easy, and when you reached your apartment, Haechan stopped, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice lower than before. “I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow”

You nodded, feeling a mixture of emotions. “Goodnight, Haechan”

As you closed the door behind you, your heart was still racing, but it wasn’t out of fear anymore. It was something else—something new.

And for the first time, you were sure of it. What was unfolding between you and Haechan? It wasn’t just part of a play. It was something real, and it was happening.

----

The big night of the performance had arrived.

The packed theater buzzed with energy, the murmur of the audience blending with the hum of the orchestra tuning in the pit. Behind the curtain, the cast and crew hurriedly adjusted costumes, touched up makeup, and whispered last-minute words of encouragement. But for you, the world felt still—like the weight of the night pressed its full force upon you.

You stood in the wings, adjusting the lace of your Juliet costume. Every fiber of your being was charged, not with nerves for the performance itself, but for what lay beyond it. Haechan stood a few feet away, leaning casually against the wall, dressed as Romeo. His typical playful confidence was gone, replaced by something quieter, something serious.

The moments between you during rehearsals had been electric—charged with unspoken feelings neither of you dared to address. The kiss, rehearsed in fragments but never fully acted out, was waiting at the center of the storm.

“Places!” called the stage manager, jolting you from your thoughts.

You glanced over at Haechan. He caught your eye, his expression unreadable, but in the depth of his gaze, you felt the same tension mirrored back at you. He gave a small nod, barely perceptible, as if to say, We’re in this together.

The opening scenes flowed seamlessly, the energy between you and Haechan drawing the audience in. By the time the masquerade ball arrived—the fateful first meeting of Romeo and Juliet—the crowd was utterly captivated.

When he spoke his first line to you under the soft glow of the stage lights, his voice was steady, but there was something more, something that made the words hum with sincerity.

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

The way he looked at you made your heart stutter, and for a moment, you forgot your lines. But the pause wasn’t awkward—it was charged, a heartbeat longer than it should have been. Finally, you found your voice.

“Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

Your hands touched, palm to palm, and though it was only for the scene, the touch felt electric. When he leaned in, pretending to kiss your hand, the brush of his breath sent a shiver down your spine. The audience erupted into applause, but you barely noticed.

The first kiss came midway through Act II, Scene II—the balcony scene. The moment you dreaded and longed for in equal measure.

Standing on the balcony, you gazed down at Haechan. He delivered Romeo’s lines with raw, unfiltered emotion, his voice steady and low, each word drawing you in.

“With love’s light wings did I o’er-perch these walls;

For stony limits cannot hold love out,

And what love can do that dares love attempt;

Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.”

As Juliet, you responded with all the vulnerability and yearning you could summon. But this time, it wasn’t just acting. Every word you spoke felt real, pulled from somewhere deep within you.

“If that thy bent of love be honourable, thy purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow...”

As the lines wove together, the moment came. Haechan climbed the balcony, his hand reaching out to you. The script called for the kiss—a brief, dramatic moment—but it was anything but scripted.

When he leaned in, your heart raced. His lips met yours, soft and warm, and the world fell away. The noise of the crowd, the spotlight, the weight of the scene—all of it vanished. It wasn’t a performance. It wasn’t rehearsed. It was real.

The kiss deepened for a heartbeat longer than it should have, and when you finally pulled away, breathless, you opened your eyes to find him staring at you. Not as Romeo. As Haechan.

The rest of the scene passed in a daze. The audience erupted in applause, but your heart was still pounding from something far more intimate than the performance.

After the final scene, the play came to its tragic conclusion. Juliet’s dagger fell, and the stage went dark. The audience leapt to their feet, the sound of their cheers filling the theater. The curtain fell, signaling the end, but for you and Haechan, something had only just begun.

Backstage, the cast celebrated, hugging one another and reliving the highlights of the night. But you stood apart, your thoughts consumed by the kiss—by the way it lingered, refusing to fade like the echo of a final note in a symphony.

You found Haechan by the prop table, where he was unlacing his boots. He looked up as you approached, his expression unreadable. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

“That kiss” he said finally, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “That wasn’t acting, was it?”

You hesitated, the weight of his question pressing down on you. But you couldn’t lie—not now. “No” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “It wasn’t”

Relief flashed across his face, quickly followed by something deeper. He stood, closing the space between you, his eyes searching yours.

“I’ve been trying to say this for weeks" he said, his tone soft but insistent. “But every time I get close, I... chicken out. So, I’m just going to say it now.” He took a deep breath. “I like you. Not just on stage, not just as Juliet. I like you.”

Your breath caught, his words unraveling the last of your defenses. “I like you too.Not just on stage, not just as Romeo. I like you too” you said, the confession tumbling out before you could second-guess it.

His smile was soft, vulnerable, and before you could think, he leaned in again. This kiss was different from the one on stage—less dramatic, more tender. His hand cupped your cheek as if afraid you might disappear, and when you pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I guess we’re not just a disaster waiting to happen, huh?” he teased, his signature playfulness returning.

You laughed, the sound light and free. “No,” you said, smiling up at him. “Maybe we’re just the beginning of something amazing, a masterpiece.”

In the distance, the cast’s cheers continued, but for you and Haechan, the night had quieted into something intimate, something that felt like a new story waiting to be written.

[Enemies?]

chenle x f!reader | enemies to lovers | frenemies

INTRO: You and Chenle had always been at odds. Whether it was in the classroom, at parties, or just the brief encounters in between, the two of you couldn't stand each other. Your banter, sharp as it was, became a defining part of your interactions—a mixture of insults, challenges, and the occasional (and frustrating) competitive streak. What no one expected was the night that changed everything. A wild party, fueled by too many drinks and too much tension, led to something neither of you could have predicted. One moment you were arguing, the next you were tangled up in something far more complicated than either of you was ready for.

wc. Around 5k

NOTE: This is not really my style but I tried

-----

He definitely was going crazy.

Otherwise, how do you explain waking up naked next to you—his worst enemy?

Chenle stared at the ceiling, his thoughts racing, desperately trying to piece together the fragments of the night before. The weight of your arm draped across his chest was the last straw. He shoved it off, his face burning, just as you groaned and stirred beside him.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the moment your gaze landed on him, you froze. Then, as if the absurdity of the situation finally registered, you let out an exasperated sigh.

“Damn, was I that horny?” you muttered, slapping a hand against your forehead.

“Shut up” Chenle snapped, his tone sharper than he intended.

You sat up, pulling the blanket around yourself like a shield, your expression shifting from confusion to irritation. “How the hell did we even end up in this situation?” you asked, your hand massaging your temples as if that could ward off the impending migraine.

“I don’t remember” Chenle lied too quickly. His words were defensive, clipped, but oh, he remembered—just not how it all started.

“Great” you groaned, swinging your legs off the bed and scanning the room for your clothes. “I’m leaving”

Chenle leaned back, crossing his arms as he watched you shuffle around the room. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips when you picked up what was left of your panties, holding them up with an incredulous expression.

“Did you really rip my panties?” you asked, your voice filled with equal parts disbelief and annoyance.

“Maybe you ripped them yourself” he shot back with a scoff, though he couldn’t help but feel a little smug.

You turned to glare at him, and despite your disheveled appearance, you still had that fiery look that drove him insane—in more ways than one. “I swear, I hope the memories don’t come back. I don’t want to know how bad you are in bed” you spat, shivering as if the thought physically repulsed you.

Chenle chuckled, leaning lazily against the headboard. “Opposite, really. You might not stay away from me if they do come back.”

Your glare deepened, but you didn’t respond. You put on your jeans after that you grabbed the rest of your clothes and stormed out, slamming the door behind you.

Chenle exhaled, running a hand through his messy hair. As much as he hated to admit it, your reaction stung more than it should have.

When the room finally fell silent, the memories started creeping back.

He remembered the heated argument—your voices echoing louder than the music at the party. He remembered the sharp sting of tequila burning down his throat as the two of you challenged each other shot after shot. Somewhere in between the taunts and the drunken laughter, the line between hatred and attraction had blurred.

Kissing you on the balcony, your lips tasting like alcohol and defiance. Dragging you into the room, his hands gripping your waist, your nails digging into his back.

And then—

Chenle shook his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He couldn’t deny it now. Even if he wanted to, last night wasn’t just good. It was one of the best nights of his life.

And it terrified him

----

The aftermath of the night should have been easy to ignore. It wasn’t.

Chenle couldn’t stop thinking about it, about you. Every time he closed his eyes, the images came rushing back—your hands on him, the sound of your voice, the way you laughed in that drunken haze when he challenged you to another shot, the way you begged him, the way you moaned his name.

It was distracting. And annoying.

Especially when he saw you again the day after.

The campus cafeteria buzzed with noise—friends chatting, trays clattering, the faint hum of a vending machine in the corner. You walked in with your tray, scanning for your usual table. As much as you hated most people at this school, your little circle of mutual acquaintances made the hellscape tolerable.

Unfortunately, one of those acquaintances happened to be Chenle.

He was already seated, casually leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, his obnoxiously perfect laugh cutting through the room. You clenched your teeth and made your way to the table.

“Morning, Y/N!” Jisung greeted cheerfully as you sat down across from him.

You groaned in response, plopping your tray down and stabbing at your salad.

“Someone’s grumpy” Renjun teased

“I have a headache” you replied

“Still hungover from the party?” Jeno asked, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t even see you drinking that much.”

Before you could answer, Chenle chimed in, his voice annoyingly loud. “Oh, Y/N definitely drank. Trust me.”

Your head snapped up, eyes narrowing at him. You felt your heart in your throat.

“And what exactly do you know about it?” Jeno asked

Your eyes met, he was enjoying how stressed you looked

Chenle shrugged, his smirk practically dripping with smugness. “Let’s just say she were very… talkative that night.”

Your stomach dropped, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means” he drawled, “you were just as annoying drunk as you are sober.”

The table erupted into laughter, and you gritted your teeth, gripping your fork like it might actually be a weapon.

“Can you two not fight for five minutes?” Jaemin sighed dramatically, shaking his head.

“Doubt it” Renjun muttered under his breath.

“Whatever” you snapped, shoving a piece of lettuce into your mouth. You could feel Chenle’s gaze on you, and it made your skin crawl. Or maybe it made your skin heat up—you weren’t sure, and that annoyed you even more.

For the rest of lunch, you avoided looking at him, though you could hear him making snarky comments here and there. You fired back when necessary, but mostly, you were focused on one thing: acting normal.

Because you couldn’t let him know you didn’t remember what happened after the drinking game.

Later that day, you found yourself cornered by Chenle near the library. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk still plastered across his face.

“Do you need something?” you asked, crossing your arms defensively.

“Yeah" he said, stepping closer. “For you to admit how amazing I am in bed”

You scoffed “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N” he said, his voice low but teasing. “I can see it all over your face. You’re trying to piece it together, but the memory’s just not there, is it?And you desperately want to remember”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Because I remember everything. And trust me, you’d want to forget if you knew what you said to me that night.”

Your eyes widened despite yourself. “What did I say?”

He laughed, leaning back like he’d won some kind of game. “Not telling. But it’s good. Really good.”

“Chenle” you warned, stepping closer, frustration bubbling up. “We were drunk, get over it and forget what happened.”

“Why?” he asked, his smirk softening into something almost serious. “Do you want me to pretend it didn’t mean anything?”

You froze, your breath hitching. For a second, his eyes locked on yours, and the air between you felt… different.

But then he stepped back, his smirk returning. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m sure it’ll come back to you eventually.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving you standing there, more confused than ever.

----

The next day, you were determined to avoid Chenle at all costs. You took different routes to class, skipped your usual coffee stop, and even left lunch early to dodge him. But somehow, no matter where you went, he always seemed to show up.

It was like he had a radar for your misery.

You sighed heavily as you walked into the library that evening, hoping for a little peace and quiet. It had been a long day, and the last thing you needed was another confrontation.

But, of course, there he was.

Chenle was sitting at a table near the back, spinning a pen between his fingers like he didn’t have a care in the world. When he spotted you, his face lit up like he’d been waiting for this moment all day.

“Y/N!” he called out, loud enough to earn a few glares from nearby students.

You froze, debating whether to ignore him, but it was too late. He was already on his feet, making his way toward you.

“What do you want, Chenle?” you asked, keeping your voice low.

“Just thought I’d say hi” he said, leaning casually against the bookshelf next to you. “You’ve been avoiding me. That’s not very nice.”

At least I’m the only sane one between us, you thought

“Maybe I’m just busy" you muttered, turning your attention to the books in front of you.

“Busy doing what? Trying to piece together the night you can’t remember?” he teased, a smug grin plastered on his face.

You stiffened but refused to look at him. “I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t” he said, leaning closer. “But if you’re curious, I could help you remember.”

That made you pause. You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. “What do you mean?”

Chenle shrugged, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I mean, I could jog your memory. Walk you through the night step by step. You know, fill in the blanks.”

You crossed your arms, skeptical. “And why would you do that?”

“Because” he said, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone, “I’m a good person, Y/N. It’s my duty to help you remember the night were you begged me to make you feel good.”

You rolled your eyes, but your curiosity was piqued. “Fine. What do you remember?”

Chenle grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Well, for starters, you were the one who suggested the drinking game.”

“Liar” you said immediately, though a small part of you wasn’t sure.

“Not lying” he said, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “You were all fired up about proving me wrong about something. Honestly, I don’t even remember what the argument was about. But I do remember you saying, ‘Let’s settle this like adults.’”

“That does not sound like me” you muttered, shaking your head.

“Oh, it was definitely you” he said, his grin widening. “Then there was the dancing.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Dancing?”

“Yeah. You insisted you were better at it than me. Which, by the way, you’re not.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he cut you off.

“Then, we needed some air…” he continued, his voice dropping to a more playful tone, “then we went to the balcony.”

Your stomach flipped, and you suddenly felt like you were in over your head. “The balcony?”

“And the best part?” he said, leaning in slightly, his eyes locking with yours. “You kissed me, Y/N.”

“I did not” you said, your voice louder than you intended. A nearby student shushed you, and you glared at them before turning back to Chenle.

“You absolutely did” he said, clearly enjoying this. “And you didn’t stop there. You—”

“Stop,” you said quickly, holding up a hand. “I don’t need to hear any more.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, tilting his head. “Because I can give you all the details. Every single one.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. Did you really kiss him? Did you really…?

Chenle smirked, clearly reveling in your discomfort. “If you want my help, just let me know” he said, turning to walk away. “But for now, I’ll let you stew on it.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing there, torn between frustration and the nagging curiosity of what you might have done.

For the rest of the evening, you couldn’t shake Chenle’s words.

The balcony.

You kissed me.

It echoed in your head, taunting you like a song you couldn’t get out of your mind.

As much as you didn’t want to believe it, the idea of it being true made your stomach churn. Had you really been that drunk? Had you actually kissed Chenle of all people?

But when you got home and lay in bed staring at the ceiling, flashes of something—something more—started to creep into your mind.

The faint memory of the balcony came first. The cool night air brushing against your skin. The blurry sound of music and laughter drifting up from the party below. You’d been leaning against the railing, angry about something, though you couldn’t quite place what.

Then there was Chenle. His stupid, smug face, smirking at you like he always did.

“You’re impossible” you’d said, your words slurring slightly.

“And you’re cute when you’re mad” he’d replied without missing a beat, stepping closer.

You sat up abruptly, heat rushing to your face. No way.

But the memory was there, piecing itself together despite your best efforts to shove it back into the void.

You remembered arguing with him, as usual, your voices sharp but somehow playful. And then—his expression had shifted. His smirk had softened, and for a moment, he just… looked at you.

“You’re staring” you’d said, crossing your arms.

“Can’t help it” he’d replied, his voice quieter now. “You look good tonight.”

The next memory hit you like a freight train.

Chenle stepping even closer, his hand brushing against yours as he leaned in. You’d been frozen, caught off guard, and before you could say anything, his lips were on yours.

Your eyes widened, and you covered your face with your hands as if that could erase the memory.

No, no, no. That didn’t happen.

But it had.

He’d kissed you.

And worse, you’d kissed him back.

And worst of all, he made you think you were the one who kissed him.

----

You wanted to get back at him, even if you were still embarrassed about that night.

Memory started to flow back an he’d been right. That night had been amazing, and the more you thought about it, the more you realized why. The sharp edge of your constant arguments, the heat of your mutual disdain—it had fueled something electric between you two.

You’d never admit it, of course, but Chenle had been… incredible. Confident, teasing, and far better at reading you than you cared to acknowledge. The fact that you’d enjoyed it so much only made your frustration burn hotter.

You couldn’t let him have the upper hand.

You looked for him everywhere but he was nowhere to be found. After checking the usual spots on campus, you finally met Jisung.

“Where’s Chenle?” you demanded.

Jisung blinked, startled by your intensity. “Uh… his classes got canceled. He’s at home.”

Perfect.

With that, you marched to his dorm, the determination in your stride masking the nervous flutter in your chest. If Chenle wanted to mess with your head, you were going to make sure you gave him something to think about.

If he wanted to play

You were definitely going to play

When he opened the door, he wasn’t prepared for you.

Shirtless, his hair a mess, he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. His eyes widened in surprise, darting from your face to the determined set of your shoulders.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice low and confused.

You didn’t answer, pushing past him into the room without so much as a glance. He scoffed behind you, closing the door.

“Well, come on in” he said sarcastically. “Not like you need an invitation or anything.”

You ignored him, striding straight into his room and perching yourself on the edge of his bed. He followed, he stood in front of you with his arms crossed, his expression shifting from confusion to suspicion.

“Okay, what’s this about?” he asked, his tone cautious

You stood up slowly, locking eyes with him as you closed the distance between you. He didn’t move at first, but when you kept advancing, he instinctively stepped back until his thighs hit the edge of his desk, forcing him to half-sit on it for balance.

Your hand reached up, tracing the sharp line of his jaw before sliding down to his chest. He tensed under your touch, his breath hitching as your fingers lazily wandered.

“You know..." you started, your voice low and teasing

“Y/N” he said again, his voice softer now. “What are you doing?”

“You're a terrible liar” you murmured, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his skin

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips. “What are you talking about?”

You leaned in closer, the heat between you palpable. “I’m talking about that night.”

He stiffened, and you saw the flicker of panic in his eyes.

“You keep saying I kissed you” you continued, your voice low and dangerous. “But I remember now, Chenle. You kissed me.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, his silence speaking volumes. His usual confidence seemed to falter, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“Nice try, though” you added, stepping back abruptly and breaking the tension. “Trying to get inside my head like that.”

“Wait” he said quickly, pushing off the desk as you turned toward the door. “Where are you going?”

“Home” you replied casually, as if nothing had happened.

He scoffed, gesturing toward the very obvious problem he was now dealing with. “You’re seriously going to leave me like this?” he looked at his pants, he has a very big problem

You paused at the door, glancing over your shoulder with a smirk that only deepened when you saw the frustration on his face.

“Oh, I think you’ll manage just fine, Chenle. You’re good at playing games by yourself, aren’t you?”

And with that, you walked out, your heart racing as you left him standing there, shirtless and undeniably flustered.

Chenle stood there for a long moment after you left, running a hand through his messy hair and letting out a low, frustrated groan.

She’s impossible, he thought, though he couldn’t ignore the way his heart raced every time you challenged him. He hated that you got under his skin so easily—and he hated even more that you knew it.

But he wasn’t going to let you win.

Later that evening, you were back in your dorm, feeling smug about your little stunt. You could still picture the dumbfounded look on Chenle’s face when you’d walked out, and it brought a small, satisfied smile to your lips.

Serves him right, you thought, though your mind kept wandering back to the way his breath had hitched when you touched him.

He looked so good

The knock on your door startled you.

Frowning, you got up to answer it, only to find Chenle leaning casually against the doorframe, a shirt now on and a cocky smirk firmly in place.

“Missed me?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.

You rolled your eyes and started to close the door, but he stuck his foot in the gap.

“Not so fast” he said, pushing the door open slightly. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“About how you can dish it out but can’t take it” he said, stepping into your room like he owned the place.

You glared at him, but before you could retort, he added, “Oh, and about that night. Since you’re suddenly remembering things, I thought I’d fill in a few blanks for you.”

“I don’t need your help remembering” you snapped, though your cheeks burned at the thought of him recounting any details.

“Don’t you?” he teased with a lazy grin. “Because I remember everything, Y/N. Every little detail.”

You froze, your heart pounding as he closed the distance between you.

“For instance” he continued, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “I remember the way you looked at me on the balcony. Like you were daring me to do something about how mad you were.”

“I wasn’t—” you started, but he cut you off.

“You were,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “And when I kissed you? You didn’t push me away. You kissed me back. Hard.”

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “What’s your point?”

“My point” he said, leaning down so his face was inches from yours, “is that you can keep pretending to hate me all you want, but that night? You wanted me just as much as I wanted you.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The tension crackled in the air between you, your pulse racing as his eyes searched yours.

But then you snapped out of it, stepping back quickly and putting distance between you. “Get over yourself, Chenle” you said, though your voice lacked its usual bite.

His smirk widened, clearly noticing your hesitation. “Whatever you say, Y/N” he said, heading for the door. But before he left, he glanced back, his expression smug.

“Let me know when you’re ready to accept and embrace what happened” he said, and with that, he was gone.

----

You spent the entire week avoiding each other. Barely speaking, barely acknowledging the other’s presence. You both tried to come to terms with what had happened, but it was impossible to ignore the lingering tension. After all, you still hated each other—or at least, you told yourselves you did.

But soon enough, you had to face each other again. With shared friends and overlapping lives, it was only a matter of time.

It was Friday, and, as usual, there was another party.

You swore you’d stay sober tonight. You really did. But every time your gaze drifted to Chenle—how good he looked, how infuriatingly attractive he was—you found yourself reaching for another drink.

Chenle wasn’t faring any better. From across the room, he admired the way you downed each glass, your confidence mixed with a carefree attitude that made his chest tighten. It was maddening. And then there was the guy next to you, leaning in too close, making you laugh in a way that set Chenle’s nerves on fire.

He wanted to cross the room, grab your hand, and drag you somewhere private. He wanted to kiss you until you stopped arguing with him—until you admitted you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

Renjun’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts. “Why are you glaring at her like that?”

But Chenle didn’t respond.

“Did something happen between you and Y/N?” Renjun asked, his sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Chenle hesitated but decided there was no point in hiding the truth. “We slept together.”

Renjun choked on his drink, coughing as he tried to process what he’d just heard. “I thought you were going to say you had feelings for her or something, but this? Oh my god, Chenle.”

Chenle wanted to retort, but his attention snapped back to you when the guy beside you left, only for someone else to swoop in. You were swaying slightly, clearly drunk, and as you stumbled, Chenle was already moving.

You didn’t even notice Chenle until he was right in front of you. You stumbled, and his arms shot out to catch you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle despite his racing heart.

You looked up at him, a lazy smile spreading across your face. “Chenle?” you asked, giggling as your hands clumsily reached for his face. You poked at his cheeks, then squished it, laughing softly and he couldn’t even be mad. You were too cute like this.

“How much did you drink?”

“Just a tiny bit” you replied, holding up your fingers to indicate an impossibly small amount.

Chenle sighed, his chest tightening at the sight of you. “I’m taking you home.”

“Oh, you want me all to yourself?” you teased, laughing like you’d uncovered some great secret.

“Yes, Y/N" he replied, exasperated but smiling despite himself. “Now let’s go.”

----

After helping you punch in the code to your apartment, he guided you inside and got you settled in bed. Just as he was about to leave, your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.

“Stay” you murmured. “I really liked sleeping in your arms.”

His heart skipped a beat, he didn’t know what to do. Then he nodded, slipping under the covers beside you.

You curled into him, resting your head on his chest “You know” you murmured, your words soft and unguarded “You were right… that night was incredible.”

His breath hitched “yeah” he admitted “It was”

You laughed lightly before your expression turned contemplative. “But aren’t we supposed to hate each other?”

“I thought so too” he admitted. “But either way with you, nothing feels the way it’s supposed to”

Your fingers curled into his shirt “what will happen in the morning?”

“I don’t know” he admitted, his voice quiet

“Probably I’ll mock you and say this was nothing” you murmured,more to yourself than to him

“Do you want it to be nothing?” He asked

You were silent for a long moment. Then, in a voice so soft he almost missed it, you admitted “I wish we could put our egos aside and figure things out together.”

His chest tightened at your words. He knew you were drunk, but he also knew you meant them. And he knew what he needed to do.

“Goodnight, Y/N” he said softly.

“Goodnight, Chenle” you replied, already drifting off.

----

Morning came too quickly, and with it, the realization of what had happened—again.

You paced your room, running your hands through your hair. “I can’t believe I let this happen again,” you muttered to yourself. “What is wrong with me?”

“Y/N” Chenle said, trying to get your attention.

You ignored him, your frustration bubbling over.

“Y/N” he said again, his voice firmer this time. When you didn’t stop, he grabbed your shoulders, forcing you to look at him.

“Please” he said, his voice raw, “just listen to me.”

You froze, your heart pounding as you met his gaze.

“I think I like you” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know how to make sense of it. But I can’t stop thinking about you. And I don’t want to keep pretending this is nothing.”

You stared at him, your mind racing.

“So please” he continued, his voice softer now, “stop running away. Let’s figure this out together.”

You stared at him, his words sinking in. He was right—you’d been petty and defensive, too afraid to face the possibility of what you could have.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded. “Okay. Let’s give us a chance. But if you act like a jerk, I swear I’m kicking your ass.”

He laughed, relief washing over his face as he pulled you into a hug. “Deal.”

“And for the record” you added, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes, “I think I like you too.”

His smile was blinding, and before you could second-guess yourself, he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was soft, sweet, and filled with every unspoken word between you.

When you finally pulled away, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Guess we’re figuring this out together” you said.

“Together” he agreed, his eyes shining with something you could only describe as hope.

[ A Swan's First Love]

renjun x f!reader | ballet core | renjun x f!ballerina

INTRO: Being a ballerina has always been your dream, but lately, the pressures and struggles have made you question everything. They say a ballerina dies twice: the first is when they stop dancing, and it’s the most painful of all. As doubt clouds your passion, your dance partner, Renjun, becomes your unexpected anchor. Through his quiet support, he helps you rediscover your love for ballet—and perhaps sparks something even deeper. With him, you begin to believe that love, whether for dance or another, doesn’t have to break you.

wc. Around 6k

warnings. ed mentioned

Lowkey inspired by: Black Swan by BTS

--------

The ballet studio echoed with the rhythmic slap of feet against polished wood, each sound a reminder of your failure. The faint scent of floor polish lingered in the air, mingling with the bitterness of sweat and the suffocating tension that hung heavy in the room. You stood in the center, chest tight, your breath shallow, your body aching from the relentless demands of the art form.

“Again!” Madame Kim’s voice cracked through the space like a whip, sharp and unforgiving.

You flinched.

“You’re too stiff” the instructor barked, her tone brimming with disdain. “The grace, the fluidity—where is it, Y/N? You’re dancing like a machine, not a swan. If you can’t find it within yourself, you might as well leave.”

A flush of heat rushed to your cheeks. Embarrassment warred with frustration, knotting your insides. You wanted to say something—anything—to defend yourself, but your tongue felt heavy. Words didn’t come. Instead, your gaze dropped to your reflection in the floor-length mirrors lining the studio.

There you were: a dancer whose movements were stiff and disconnected, a far cry from the effortless beauty expected of her. Ballet had once been your sanctuary, your identity, but now it felt like a prison. Every failed pirouette, every misstep, every sharp critique chipped away at the joy you once felt, leaving behind an empty shell of what you used to be.

The arch of your pointe shoes caught your eye—a picture of perfection, the embodiment of all you were supposed to be. Yet the polished elegance of the satin mocked you. It reminded you of the dancer you used to be: hopeful, graceful, unyielding in her passion. That version of yourself felt like a stranger now.

Madame Kim’s voice rang out again, dragging you away from your thoughts. “Again. Do it again. And this time, try to remember what it means to be a swan.”

The words were like salt in an open wound. A swan? You couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be free, let alone graceful. There was no lightness in your limbs, no fluidity in your movements. Every tendu, every plié, every leap felt like a battle against your own body.

Your classmates shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting toward you and then away, as if you humiliation might be contagious.

You swallowed hard and forced your body into motion once more. You extended your arms, raised your chin, and tried to channel the image of a swan gliding across a lake. But instead of feeling weightless, you felt heavy.

Instead of beauty, there was only strain.

Your feet moved, your arms curved, but the magic wasn’t there. It hadn’t been for weeks.

You caught Renjun’s gaze from across the room. He stood near the barre, his posture perfect, his every movement precise and full of life. His expression was unreadable, but you imagined the judgment in his eyes, the pity. You hated the idea that he—or anyone—might see you like this.

That they might see you as you see yourself

“Stop!” Madame Kim’s voice sliced through the air, the music halting abruptly. “That’s enough for today, Y/N”

You chest heaved as you fought to hold back tears. You nodded curtly, your throat too tight to speak, and retreated to the corner of the studio.

The others resumed their practice, but you could only sit, your hands trembling as they rested on your lap. You stared at your reflection once more, wondering how you had lost so much of yourself —and if you would ever find it again.

The studio was empty now, save for the faint creaks of the wooden floor as you paced back and forth. The mirrors reflected a ghostly version of yourself—disheveled hair, reddened cheeks, and shoulders slumped under the weight of your failures. You stopped in the center of the room, you fingers brushing against the soft fabric of your practice skirt.

 Your body ached in protest, muscles tight and unforgiving after hours of repetition. You closed your eyes, willing to find solace in the quiet, but the silence felt oppressive. The faint hum of the overhead lights buzzed in your ears, and the scent of floor polish clung to you like an unwelcome reminder of where you were.

You sank to the floor, your legs stretched out before your toes instinctively pointing—a habit so ingrained it felt like second nature. Your gaze drifted to your worn pointe shoes. The once-pristine satin was scuffed and stained, the ribbons frayed from countless rehearsals. You reached for one, turning it over in your hands. The shoe felt foreign now, like it belonged to someone else.

When had ballet stopped feeling like home?

You leaned your head back against the mirrored wall, staring at the ceiling. Memories flooded your mind—of your first dance class, of the thrill of landing your first solo, of the applause that once filled you with pride. But those moments felt so far away now, like fragments of a life you could barely remember.

You thoughts spiraled, each one darker than the last. Maybe the voices in your head were saying the truth. Maybe you aren’t meant for this anymore. The idea of quitting made your stomach churn, but wasn’t it worse to keep going like this? To keep fighting for something that no longer felt like yours?

You hugged your knees to your chest, resting your forehead against them.

Don’t cry

Don’t cry

Don’t cry

You don't have the right to cry

The sound of the door creaking open startled you, there he was, Renjun was standing in the doorway, his bag slung over one shoulder.

 “You’re still here” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You turned away, pretending to adjust you shoe. “Couldn’t leave just yet”

Renjun stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. His footsteps echoed as he crossed the studio, stopping a few feet away from you. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, simply looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“You okay?” he asked.

You hesitated, unsure why he cared. You weren’t close—just partners in the dance.

“I’m fine” you lied

Renjun crouched down to your level, his head tilting slightly as he studied you “You don’t look fine.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the gentle concern in his tone. It wasn’t pity—it was something else.

Understanding, maybe.

“It’s just been a rough day” you admitted finally.

Renjun nodded, leaning against the wall, , his gaze never leaving you “I get that. It happens to everyone. Even me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You? I doubt that.”

He smiled faintly. “You’d be surprised”

-----

A week after the disastrous rehearsal, you walked into the studio, your stomach already knotted with dread. You were late, not much but enough to feel the sting of Madame Kim’s disapproving glare.

 “Ah, Y/N. How kind of you to join us” she said with a raised eyebrow. “Since you’ve graced us with your presence, let’s see if you’ve managed to redeem yourself. Renjun, step forward. You’ll work on the duet section together.”

 The words sent a chill down your spine. You weren’t ready—not for the duet, not for the scrutiny. And definitely not for Renjun.

“Now?I haven’t warmed up yet and…”

“Yes, now” Madame Kim’s tone left no room for argument. She clapped her hands sharply. “I want to see chemistry, emotion—something real”

Renjun, who had been warming up near the barre, straightened and nodded. He walked toward you with the quiet confidence that seemed to come so naturally to him. You avoided his gaze as you moved to the center of the studio, your heart hammering in your chest.

The music began, the opening strains of the dance filling the air. You counted the beats in your head, body moving mechanically into position. You extended your arms, tried to hold the curve of your back, but nothing about it felt right.

Renjun stepped closer, offering his hand for the lift. You hesitated for a fraction too long, and the timing was thrown off. The lift barely happened—your feet left the floor for only a second before you dropped back down, off-balance.

“Stop, stop, stop!” Madame Kim barked, clapping her hands sharply. The music cut out. “Y/N, what are you doing? The audience will not tolerate hesitation. You need to trust your partner.”

Humiliated, that’s how you felt

You glanced at Renjun, expecting frustration or impatience, but his expression remained unreadable.

“Again” Madame Kim ordered.

The second attempt wasn’t much better. Neither was the third. Madame Kim’s sighs of exasperation grew louder with each failure until she finally waved her hand dismissively. “That’s enough. Fix this mess on your own time” she snapped. “We can’t waste the company’s rehearsal on this nonsense.”

As she turned her attention to the rest of the group, you wanted nothing more than to sink into the floor.

What if she replace you with someone else? That can't happen. You need to keep the role and perform.

"You're overthinking it" Renjun said softly, breaking the tense silence.

You blinked, surprised by his calm tone. “Excuse me?”

“The lift” he said, his voice still quiet but firm. “You’re trying too hard to control it. You need to trust me. Let go a little.”

You folded your arms defensively. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have Madame Kim breathing down your neck every second.”

Renjun tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You think she doesn’t criticize me?”

You hesitated, frustration ebbing slightly. “You don’t look like you struggle.”

His lips curved into a faint smile. “That’s because you only see the finished product, not the hours I spend fixing my mistakes. I let you see what I want you to see Y/N”

He gestured toward the door of the studio. “Come on. Let’s try again without her watching.”

 Reluctantly, you followed him into an empty studio.

“Before we try the lift again, let’s do something else” Renjun said

“Something else?” You frowned. “We’re supposed to be rehearsing the choreography”

“And we will” he said. “But first, we need to loosen up.”

To your surprise, Renjun pulled out his phone and scrolled through it for a moment before a pop song started playing from the small speaker. The upbeat rhythm was a stark contrast to the dramatic elegance of ballet.

You stared at him. “You’re kidding”

“Not at all.” Renjun set his phone on the floor and stepped back. “Sometimes, you need to stop thinking so much and just move. No choreography. No rules. Just dance.”

You hesitated, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Come on” he said, his voice light but insistent. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Against your better judgment, You gave in. Your steps awkward and hesitant at first but as the music swelled, something shifted. The freedom of moving without structure, without fear of judgment, felt exhilarating. You glanced at Renjun and saw him smiling—not the polite, distant smile he usually wore, but something warm and genuine.

By the time the song ended, you both were laughing.

“See?” Renjun said, slightly out of breath. “You’re not a machine. You just forgot how to feel the music.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “That’s not going to help with the duet.”

“Maybe not directly,” he admitted, “but it’s a start. Let’s try the lift again.”

And he was right.

When you returned to the center of the room, something had changed. The tension in your body was gone, replaced by a quiet confidence. As Renjun extended his hand, you took it without hesitation. This time, the lift was seamless, their movements fluid and synchronized.

When they landed, your chest swelled with relief and something close to pride.

Renjun grinned. “Told you.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real annoyance in the gesture. “Okay, fine. Maybe you have a point.”

You practiced for another hour, each lift and turn becoming smoother, more natural. By the end of the session, you realised it wasn’t just an improvement but maybe the beginning of enjoying dancing again.

----

It started with quiet conversations after rehearsals. At first, the exchanges were brief—small acknowledgments of your work together or comments about the routine. But as the weeks passed, the silences grew less daunting, and the words came easier.

One evening, after an especially grueling practice, you and Renjun sat on the floor of the empty studio, your backs against the mirrored wall. Your bodies were sore, breaths uneven, but there was a quiet comfort in sharing the space.

“Do you ever feel like you’re fighting against your own body?” you asked, voice soft but carrying the weight of exhaustion.

Renjun glanced at you, surprised by the vulnerability tone. “All the time” he admitted. “People think dancers are perfect machines, but we’re not. Half the time, I feel like my body’s betraying me.”

You let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Right? Like... it doesn’t matter how much I train or how carefully I eat. I always feel like I’m falling short.”

Renjun hesitated, then asked gently “Carefully?”

You nodded, your gaze fixed on your knees. “You know. Counting calories, avoiding carbs. Madame Kim’s made comments before about... you know.”

Renjun’s expression darkened slightly. “Yeah, I’ve heard those comments.” His jaw tightened as he looked at the floor. “They expect us to look like swans on stage but don’t care if it’s breaking us to stay that way.”

You turned to him, your chest tightening at the empathy in his voice. “Do you ever... struggle with it?”

Renjun leaned his head back against the mirror, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. Especially when I first started training seriously. I’d skip meals, push myself too hard. There was one time I nearly passed out in rehearsal. That’s when I realized it wasn’t sustainable, and I decided to change companies. Coming here, to Dream Ballet Academy, was the best choice I made.”

She frowned, guilt washing over her. “Renjun...”

He gave you a small, wry smile. “It’s better now. I’ve learned to listen to my body more, to stop when I need to. But it’s still hard. The pressure never really goes away.”

You nodded, your throat tight. “I get that. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s worth it. If all this... pain is worth it for a few minutes on stage.”

Renjun turned to face you, his gaze steady. “It is” he said firmly. “But only if you’re doing it for you. Not for Madame Kim, or the audience, or anyone else. Just you.”

His words struck something deep and for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of clarity.

“I’m sorry for what I said back then” you whispered. “I do know that you struggle... I just—”

“I know” Renjun interrupted softly. “I saw myself in you that day.”

----

Things began to shift after that night. Rehearsals were better. Renjun had a way of grounding you, reminding you to breathe when you became too caught up in your head.

But the road was far from smooth.

During a run-through of the duet, your foot slipped during a turn. You stumbled, the familiar sharp pull of gravity twisting your ankle as you fell. Pain shot through your leg, sharp and immediate.

Renjun was at your side in an instant. “Are you okay?”

You winced, shaking your head. “I... I think I twisted it.”

Madame Kim appeared, her expression stern but tinged with concern. “That’s enough for today. Renjun, help her to the bench.”

Renjun wrapped an arm around your shoulders, supporting you as you limped to the side of the studio. Once you were seated, he crouched in front of you, carefully unlacing your shoe.

“This might hurt” he warned before pressing his fingers gently around the swelling.

You hissed, biting her lip. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

Renjun glanced up, his expression serious. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

Your defenses faltered at the softness in his voice. “It’s just... I can’t afford to mess this up. If I don’t get this right, Madame Kim will replace me. And if I’m not dancing, then what’s the point?”

Renjun shook his head, his hand still resting on your ankle. “The point is taking care of yourself. You can’t dance if you’re hurt.”

Tears prickled your eyes, but you blinked them away. “I just feel like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough. I’m never enough.”

Renjun reached out, his hand resting lightly on yours. “You’re more than enough, Y/N. You’re stronger than you think.”

You looked at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, the world outside the studio faded away, leaving only the warmth of his gaze and the quiet reassurance in his touch.

That evening, after Renjun left, you sat alone in the studio, your ankle wrapped and elevated. Your reflection stared back at you—worn and tired but resolute.

You stood slowly, favoring your uninjured foot, and moved to the center of the room. Ignoring the pain, you lifted your arms into fifth position, feeling the music in your mind, and started the sequence again.

It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t for Madame Kim. This time, it was for yourself.

And for the first time in awhile, it felt enough.

-----

Your friendship with Renjun deepened after that night. It wasn’t just about rehearsals anymore; it was about the time you spent together outside the studio. He introduced you to his favorite coffee shop, a cozy little place tucked away on a quiet street, where the scent of roasted beans filled the air. You sat there for hours, talking about everything and nothing.

You shared stories from your childhood—how you first fell in love with ballet, how you always danced around the house in your socks until your mother enrolled you in lessons. You spoke of struggles you’d never voiced aloud before, the pressures, the doubts, the fear that came with constantly trying to be perfect.

Renjun listened with a quiet attentiveness, as though every word you spoke mattered. And for the first time in a long while, you felt seen—truly seen—not by the audience who watched you perform, but by someone who understood the depth of what it meant to live this life.

One afternoon, as you walked together through the park, the sun warming your skin, Renjun nudged you playfully. “Do you ever stop thinking about ballet?”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Not really,” you said with a sigh. “It’s hard to, when it feels like my entire life revolves around it.”

He stopped walking, turning to face you with a contemplative look. “Maybe that’s the problem” he said softly.

You furrowed your brows, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

He met your gaze, his expression thoughtful yet kind. “Ballet is important, sure. But it’s not everything. You’re more than just a dancer, Y/N. And if you forget that, you’ll lose the part of yourself that makes you… well, you.”

His words hung in the air, the weight of them settling in your chest. You didn’t respond right away, the thought swirling in your mind as you walked in silence for a while longer. Renjun didn’t push you to speak, just stayed at your side, letting the quiet moments stretch between you.

That night, as you lay in bed, his words echoed in your mind: You’re more than just a dancer. You weren’t sure if you truly believed it yet, but for the first time, you felt a small flicker of hope that maybe he was right.

Over the next few weeks, the change was subtle at first. You found yourself laughing more—truly laughing—not just in the studio but outside of it too. You let yourself enjoy small moments without guilt. You went to the park and sat under the trees, watching the world go by instead of obsessing over the next rehearsal. You let your shoulders drop, the constant tension beginning to ease.

Renjun was there through it all—steady, kind, and unwavering. Every time you felt like slipping back into old habits, he was there to remind you that it was okay to take a step back. He never pushed you, just offered a hand when you needed it.

One evening, after another grueling practice, the two of you sat together on the studio floor, your muscles sore but your heart lighter than it had been in ages. The room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning and the distant sounds of traffic outside. You turned to Renjun, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the physical exhaustion you felt.

“You know,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence, “you’re kind of amazing”

Renjun raised an eyebrow, a playful smile curling at his lips. “Kind of?”

You nudged him lightly, your smile growing. “Okay, maybe more than kind of”

For a moment, the air between you shifted. The playful banter faded into something deeper, something unspoken. His gaze softened, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

Renjun didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned in just slightly, his voice lowering to a whisper. “You’re pretty amazing too”

Your heart started beating faster, the space between you feeling charged with something new, something that neither of you had dared to name yet. You stayed there for a moment, close but not quite touching, the weight of the words hanging between you.

It wasn’t a sudden shift, but rather a slow, careful building of trust, of understanding. Renjun’s words, his presence, were a steadying force in your life, one you hadn’t known you needed until now.

And as you sat there, with your heart racing and your thoughts tangled, you realized that, for the first time in a long while, you were exactly where you needed to be.

-----

The night of the Swan Lake premiere arrived, and the air was thick with anticipation.

Backstage, you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your costume, your heart racing. The usual anxiety clawed at your insides, but there was a strange calmness too. Renjun’s reassuring presence was like a steady hand on your back, guiding you through the storm of self-doubt.

“You got this” Renjun whispered, his voice calm but filled with an intensity that made you believe it. “We’ve practiced this. Just feel it. Let go.”

His words, simple as they were, wrapped around you like a protective shield. You nodded, taking a deep breath. For once, you weren’t alone in this.

When the curtain rose and the music began, you felt the magic of the moment. As you moved across the stage, your bodies syncing in perfect harmony, you felt a connection with Renjun that went beyond just the dance. It was as though every move you made was fueled by something deeper than mere technique—it was raw, real, and unspoken. You weren’t just performing; you were telling a story, your emotions intertwined in every step and lift.

The audience was silent, captivated by the beauty and intensity of your performance. Each lift, each spin was executed with flawless precision, but it was the emotion behind your movements that truly took the audience’s breath away. When you reached the final pose, suspended in mid-air for a fleeting moment, everything seemed to freeze. You held your breath, feeling the rush of the performance course through you.

As the music ended and the applause erupted, Renjun subtly squeezed your hand in a silent promise—a reminder that this was just the beginning. The moment you shared felt like something more than just a performance. It was a mutual understanding, a connection that neither of you had expected, but both had hoped for.

Later that evening, after the last of the applause had faded and the theater emptied out, you and Renjun found yourselves standing outside the stage door. The cool night air brushed against your skin, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing and the quiet hum of the city around them.

You turned to Renjun, your heart still racing—not from nerves, but from something deeper, something that had been building for a while. There was no crowd, no expectations, just the two of them, alone in the night.

Renjun looked at you, his eyes soft, but there was a weight to his gaze. “Y/N, I’ve been meaning to say something.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “What’s that?”

He hesitated, then took a small step closer. “I’ve watched you go through so much. The pressure, the struggle, the pain… but you’re still here, still fighting. I admire that. And somewhere along the way, I’ve… I’ve started to feel something more than admiration.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You weren’t sure what you’d expected, but it wasn’t this. Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up at him, his words settling in your chest like a warm ache.

“I…” you took a breath, your words stumbling out. “I feel the same way, Renjun. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, you became… more than just a partner. You became someone I care about. A lot.”

Renjun’s face softened, a small smile playing on his lips. He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels that.”

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. His hand lingered by your face, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation. When he found none, he leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Your lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, the kind that carried all the unspoken words you didn’t know how to say.

It was brief but perfect.

Renjun smiled at you, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

You laughed softly, your cheeks warm. “You’re not so bad yourself”

He stepped back slightly, his hand slipping down to take yours, fingers interlocking effortlessly. It was a simple gesture, but it felt like everything you have been through had led to this. You squeezed his hand back, a quiet promise of your own.

Together, you walked into the night, side by side. The world felt different now. Not because the performance was over, but because you were no longer just two dancers on the same stage—you were two people who had found something in each other, something real, something worth holding on to.

As you walked, You couldn’t help but think about the future. Whatever came next, you knew you wouldn’t face it alone. Not anymore.

After a while, Renjun broke the silence, glancing at you with a teasing smile. “You’re unusually quiet. What are you thinking about?”

You smiled shyly, your fingers tightening slightly around his. “I was just thinking… You’re my first love, Renjun.”

Renjun stopped walking, looking at you in surprise before breaking into a laugh. “Don’t be a liar.”

“What?” You said, half laughing, half indignant. “It’s true! I’ve never dated anyone before.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “Your first love was ballet, Y/N.”

You blinked, about to argue, but his gentle smile stopped you. And as the words sank in, you realized he was right. Ballet had always been your first love—the thing that consumed your thoughts, your time, your heart. But now, there was something—or someone—else who shared that space.

[1 step forward and 3 steps back]

haechan x f!reader | jaehyun x f!reader | zombie apocalypse au

INTRO: In a world shattered by chaos, survival was all that mattered. You had left behind everything you once knew, trading your past for a new life with a group of strangers who became your family. Among them was Haechan, whose warmth and humor had reignited a spark of hope you thought was lost forever.

But the past has a way of resurfacing when you least expect it. Jaehyun, your brothers’ best friend—and the shadow of a love you once held close—appeared like a ghost from another life, forcing you to confront the person you used to be. Torn between the familiarity of the past and the promise of your new future, you found yourself at a crossroads, where survival wasn’t just about staying alive—it was about choosing who you wanted to become.

Words count: 5.2K

Lowkey inspired by: 1 step forward 3 steps back by olivia Rodrigo

-------

Being the youngest was never easy—especially when everyone around you had years of experience and wisdom you could never match. Growing up, you had always been on your own, learning to navigate life in your quiet, stubborn way. But now, in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, solitude wasn’t an option

Now you lived on the 10th floor of a pristine penthouse, a sanctuary in the middle of chaos. Somehow, this place had remained untouched. It was one of the few spots where the horrors of the outside world couldn’t reach. Zombies never climbed this high, and the building's reinforced entrances and secure layout made it the safest refuge anyone could hope for.

But safety came at a cost. The penthouse was crowded, filled with people just trying to survive—your brothers, their families, their friends, and most painfully, Jaehyun. The boy who had been your crush since forever.

Jaehyun had always been there: solid, dependable, and infuriatingly blind to you as anything but “Taeyong and Doyoung' little sister.” You couldn’t even blame him. It wasn’t like you made it easy. The tantrums you’d thrown as a child were legendary, and the mistakes you’d made trying to prove yourself felt endless.

But those were years ago. You weren’t the same impulsive kid who couldn’t keep up. You had grown, learned to pull your weight in the group, but no one seemed to notice.

Nothing more. It didn’t matter how much you’d grown, or how hard you tried to contribute. To Jaehyun—and to the rest of the group—you were still a kid, prone to mistakes and misunderstandings.

It had started when you accidentally overheard a conversation in the storage room. The man, Jinhyuk, one of the group’s scouts, was whispering with his sister, Minji. You weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but the tension in their voices made you freeze.

<<We can’t keep living like this>> Jinhyuk said, his voice urgent. <<If we take some of the food now, we can slip away tonight. They won’t notice until morning.>>

<<What about the others?>> Minji whispered.

Jinhyuk’s tone hardened. <<Do you think they care about us? Look at how they treat us. It’s every man for himself now.>>

Your heart pounded as the meaning of their words hit you—they were planning to leave, taking a significant portion of the group’s supplies with them. If they succeeded, it could mean starvation for the rest of you.

Without thinking, you backed away and ran straight to Jaehyun, blurting out what you had overheard. He didn’t hesitate to go talk to the leader, your brother Taeyong. He confronted Jinhyuk in front of the entire group, catching him off guard.

Jinhyuk panicked and denied everything, but when the group checked the supplies, they found evidence that he’d already packed several bags with food and water. It was enough proof to banish him immediately.

But no one ever knew how Jinhyuk’s plan had been uncovered. And while Jinhyuk was gone, Minji remained. She didn’t know for sure, but her sharp instincts told her you were involved.

<<You’re just a meddling little brat>> she’d sneered at you later, her voice low and venomous. <<You’re the reason my brother’s gone. Do you think you’re some kind of hero?>>

Her words cut deep, but worse was the way the rest of the group treated you afterward. To them, you were the immature, clumsy youngest—too naive to have done anything useful, yet somehow still at the center of their tension. You were easy to blame when things went wrong, and Minji made sure you stayed in everyone’s bad graces.

That morning, your brothers were packing up to leave for a supply run. The camp’s storage was running dangerously low, and as much as you hated being left behind, they were right to worry. The outside world was a labyrinth of danger.

Still, you had to ask.

<<Can I come?>> you ventured, your voice steady despite the knot in your stomach.

Taeyong didn’t even look up. <<You’ll slow us down, Y/N>> His tone was firm, like there was no room for argument.

You glanced at Jaehyun, hoping—praying—he might step in, that he might see you as more than the burden your brother painted you to be. But he stayed quiet, his eyes focused on the straps of his backpack as he adjusted them.

<<Be safe>> you whispered, the words barely audible over the buzz of preparation. You knew it wouldn’t matter. They wouldn’t hear the desperation you were hiding.

But Jaehyun turned, his gaze meeting yours for a moment too long. His eyes softened, and you swore you saw something—regret, guilt, or maybe even the beginnings of understanding. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but Taeyong clapped a hand on his shoulder, pulling him toward the door.

<<Let’s go>> your brother said.

Jaehyun hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before nodding. And then he was gone, leaving you standing alone, feeling as though you’d been left behind in more ways than one.

-----

The isolation wasn’t just physical anymore—it had seeped into every part of your life. You were barely their sister now. Your role was reduced to a babysitter for Taeyong and Doyoung’s kids, a shadow lingering in the background while the adults strategized, planned, and survived.

Your suggestions were brushed off like meaningless chatter. You weren’t part of the group; you were the burden they tolerated. So, you started slipping back into old habits—letting your stubbornness and frustration take over. If they weren’t going to listen, why bother trying? You became the one they expected you to be: alone, messy, and always arguing, especially with Minji.

Minji seemed to take special pleasure in provoking you. Her snide remarks and sharp glares fueled your anger, making every shared room a battlefield. The tension between you two became a constant hum in the penthouse, an unspoken blame game that no one cared enough to resolve.

Until Jaehyun had enough.

It was during another heated argument with Minji that Jaehyun intervened. No one else was paying attention, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you into an empty hallway, away from the others.

<<When are you going to stop, Y/N?>> His voice was low but firm, laced with an exhaustion that mirrored your own.

You scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. <<She started it!>>

<<Please>> he said, running a hand through his hair. <<If you could just stop this act—>>

<<What will change?>> you interrupted, your voice sharp. <<I tried, Jaehyun. I tried to be better. I tried to help, and all it got me was being ignored. So why should I bother?>>

Jaehyun looked at you, his jaw tightening. <<Because you’re better than this, Y/N. You’re better than letting them be right about you.>>

But you’d had enough. The lump in your throat grew heavier, and before you could stop yourself, the words you’d been swallowing for years came tumbling out.

<<I like you, Jaehyun.>>

The confession hung in the air like a spark threatening to ignite.

<<Y/N…>> he sighed, closing his eyes like he was trying to block out the weight of your words. <<I can’t.>>

<<Then why?>> you snapped, your voice trembling.<<Why do you act the way you act? Why does it look like you care about me, only to leave me alone when it matters>>

He looked at you, and for a moment, you thought he might give you an answer that would make it all make sense. But when he spoke, it was like the final blow you hadn’t seen coming.

<<Because you’re a child in my eyes still>>

There it was. The answer you had been dreading but needed to hear.

You nodded, the tears burning at the edges of your eyes as you forced yourself to smile. <<Got it>> you said quietly. <<Thanks for being honest>>

<<Y/N, I didn’t mean—>> He reached for you, his expression softening, but you were already turning away, leaving him behind in the quiet room.

That night, while the rest of the group settled into their routines, you made your decision. If you weren’t part of the group, why stay? They didn’t need you, and the penthouse only made you feel more trapped.

Leaving.

It wasn’t impulsive. You knew exactly what you were doing. You packed what little you had—a flashlight, a knife, some food—and slipped out while the others were asleep. For the first time in months, you felt free.

It wasn’t until morning that they noticed you were gone.

The penthouse felt too quiet without you. Jaehyun realized it first, his stomach dropping as he checked your empty room. The others barely seemed to care.

As Jaehyun stormed into the kitchen, Taeyong and Doyoung were seated at the table, their kids on their laps, eating breakfast like it was any other day.

<<Are we really just letting her go?>> Jaehyun’s voice was sharp, angry.

Taeyong glanced up, his expression unreadable. <<She made her choice>>

Jaehyun’s fists clenched. <<She’s out there alone. Anything could happen to her>>

<<She’ll come back>> Doyoung said, his tone indifferent. <<She always does>>

But Jaehyun wasn’t convinced. Without waiting for permission, he grabbed his backpack and headed for the door, ignoring their protests.

He searched for hours, his eyes scanning every street and alley for a sign of you. The streets were eerily quiet, the distant groans of zombies the only sound breaking the silence.

When he finally stopped, exhausted and empty-handed, he whispered into the stillness, his voice cracking.

<<Please be safe out there>>

----

You had told yourself you knew what you were doing, but deep down, you hadn’t stepped outside the confines of the penthouse in months. The world beyond those walls felt more like a distant memory now, a place too dangerous and uncertain for someone like you. So, you remained hidden, nestled in the middle floors, a safe distance from the chaos—but also far away from the sense of security you once had.

It was on the 5th floor, in the dimly lit stairwell, that you first saw him. You had been wandering, aimlessly trying to occupy your mind, when you spotted him sitting on the stairs. He was leaning against the railing, his head tilted back, eyes closed as though he was taking a moment to escape from everything—everything that had become too heavy to bear.

You hesitated, unsure whether to approach him or turn around. But curiosity got the best of you, and you moved a little closer, trying not to make a sound. It was an old habit you had developed when sneaking around in highschool—being quiet, being invisible. But you had no chance of going unnoticed.

<<You should learn to be more careful>> a voice broke the silence, smooth and teasing, as he opened his eyes and caught your gaze. The playful smirk on his lips made your heart skip a beat.

You froze, caught off guard, unsure of how to respond. His presence was unexpectedly disarming, like he had this effortless way of making everything around him feel less tense. He reminded you of the sun.

<<Hi>> he said with a grin, his smile lighting up his face. <<I’m Haechan>> His hand extended toward you, the gesture simple, but it felt like an invitation to something new.

<<Hi>> you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. <<I’m Y/N>>

<<What floor are you from?>>

The question hit you like a sudden wave. You didn’t have a floor anymore—not really. You had once lived above, in the penthouse, but that was before everything had changed. Now you felt lost, disconnected from the world you once knew. You lowered your gaze for a moment, unsure of how to explain.

<<I don’t have a floor anymore>> you muttered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. <<Not really>>

Haechan didn’t press. Instead, he studied you for a second, his eyes softening as if he understood something you hadn’t said aloud. There was a quiet pause, and then he broke it, as if trying to lift the weight that had settled in the air between you.

<<You know>> he said, his voice light, <<there’s a kindergarten here>> He pointed down the hall, a playful twinkle in his eyes. <<Would you like to play with me?>>

His words were simple, but they carried something different—something warm and inviting. For a moment, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Play? In this world, in a place like this? It felt almost impossible to imagine, like you had forgotten how to allow yourself to enjoy anything, to feel something other than survival.

But Haechan’s offer was sincere, almost like he didn’t care about the outside world for a moment, as though he was offering you something just for you—a fleeting return to innocence.

You hesitated at first, the idea feeling alien, almost childish. But there was something in the way he spoke, so lighthearted and carefree, that made it hard to resist. And so, without fully realizing it, you nodded. You didn’t want to refuse, not now—not when, for the first time in ages, something other than fear and pain felt within reach.

And just like that, you found yourself in a small, quiet room, filled with forgotten toys and the laughter that had been missing from your life for so long. The kindergarten, though worn down and neglected like everything else, still held a trace of its former joy. The walls, once bright with color, were now faded, but it didn’t matter. It was enough. For the first time in weeks, you felt lighter. You felt... happy.

You and Haechan spent hours there, playing simple games, laughing as if you were children again. In the midst of the broken world outside, in the middle of the chaos that surrounded you, this small corner of innocence was the only thing that mattered. For the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel like you had to be someone you weren’t. You didn’t have to carry the weight of being strong, of trying to prove yourself. In this moment, it was just you, and it felt like a small, quiet victory.

You forgot about the outside world, about the zombies and the constant tension of survival. In this room, with Haechan by your side, you found a little piece of peace.

Haechan brought you to the 7th floor, where you were introduced to a completely different world. Unlike the penthouse on the 10th floor that had become filled with tension and frustration, the 7th floor was quiet, peaceful—almost a breath of fresh air. There were only eight people in Haechan’s group, and though they were a little rough around the edges, there was something about them that felt more grounded. They didn’t see you as the ‘youngest’, the ‘little sister’ or the person everyone felt responsible for. They saw you as you were—someone who could contribute, someone who could belong.

Mark, the leader of the group, exuded a calm authority. He had this quiet confidence about him that made it easy to trust him, even though you hadn’t known him for long. Jeno, his second-in-command, was more energetic but just as reliable. He had a leadership quality, too, and could step in for Mark whenever he wasn’t around. The rest of the group felt like a family: Renjun, Jaemin, Jisung, and Chenle, along with the two girls—Ningning, Renjun’s girlfriend, and Giselle, Mark’s girlfriend.

It was the first time in what felt like ages that you felt like you belonged somewhere. You weren’t the ‘baby’ of the group; everyone here was close to your age, and there wasn’t the same barrier of experience that had always set you apart from everyone in your brother’s group. For once, you didn’t have to constantly prove yourself. You didn’t have to fight to be seen as anything other than a nuisance or a burden. The dynamic felt more balanced, and for the first time, you could breathe easily.

The days you spent with them were different from anything you had known. Haechan had taken you under his wing, teaching you everything you needed to survive. He was patient, showing you how to search for food, how to stay alert when moving through the building, and even how to defend yourself if it ever came to that. He joked around with you, teasing you about your mistakes, but there was always this underlying kindness in the way he treated you. His jokes never felt mean-spirited. Instead, they were a way to break the tension, to make you feel at ease.

Despite the teasing, you couldn’t deny it—you were starting to fall for him. The way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the way he made everything seem less daunting, even in the middle of the apocalypse. He had a way of making you forget the dangers outside, making you feel safe even when everything else in the world was falling apart.

But that also scared you. You had been hurt before, and you didn’t want to go through the same thing again. You didn’t want to make yourself vulnerable to someone who might see you as just another “little sister.” But Haechan wasn’t like that. He didn’t know your brothers. He didn’t have the preconceived notion of you that they did. You weren’t Taeyong and Doyoung’s little sister anymore. You were just Y/N, a part of this small group—a person who could contribute, who could stand on her own.

Still, there were moments when doubt crept in. What if you were just another fleeting interest to him? What if he eventually saw you as nothing more than a burden too? You tried not to think about it, but it wasn’t easy. Every time he looked at you with that easy grin, every time his laughter rang in your ears, you felt something stir inside you.

But for now, you tried to push those fears aside. You were here, with this group, and that was enough. You didn’t need to complicate things with what-ifs and what-could-be’s. For once, you allowed yourself to simply be, to be part of something, and to let yourself enjoy the moments you had. Haechan might have been a part of those moments, but for now, that was all it had to be. The future could wait.

And so, you went on, learning from him, spending more time with the group. You began to go out for food runs, gathering supplies with Haechan and the others. Every time you returned to the 7th floor with your arms full of supplies, you felt like you were actually contributing to something bigger. You didn’t feel like the outsider you had once been. The group started to rely on you, to see you for more than just the “baby sister.”

Though your feelings for Haechan were growing stronger by the day, you held onto the one thing that had kept you grounded in the past: caution. You wouldn’t let yourself fall too easily this time, not until you were sure this wasn’t just another fleeting feeling. But still, when you caught his eye across the room, when his voice called your name, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to be so careful this time. Maybe this was where you finally belonged.

----

It was your and Haechan's turn to go out on a supply run, this time to gather items that would help keep everyone warm. The harsh winter was fast approaching, and you knew the group couldn’t survive without proper insulation, clothing, and other supplies. As you both ventured into the cold, you found yourself on a familiar street, navigating through abandoned cars and crumbling buildings, searching for anything that could help.

But then, it happened.

You saw him.

It had been months since you had left the penthouse. You had pushed your memories of that place deep into the recesses of your mind, trying to move forward, to live in the present with the group who had accepted you. But there he was, standing in the middle of the street, looking more worn down than you remembered. His face was haggard, with deep bags under his eyes, and his hair had grown shorter. You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping well, and your heart clenched at the sight of him.

And then, he saw you too.

The recognition in his eyes was immediate. His expression softened, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

<<Y/N?>> he whispered, taking a step toward you. Without warning, he closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

But before you could react, Haechan was there, his hand on his weapon. His voice was sharp, laced with concern and anger. <<Step back> Haechan warned, gun drawn and pointed directly at Jaehyun, who froze in place.

You didn’t hug Jaehyun back. You were too stunned, too caught off guard by the emotions suddenly rushing to the surface. The pain of everything that had happened—his words, the way he had treated you—was still there, raw and fresh.

Jaehyun didn’t let go, though. He gently cupped your face in his hands, his voice trembling. <<Thank you for surviving>> he said softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and relief. You nodded, unable to speak, still processing everything.

Haechan kept the gun trained on Jaehyun, but when you gave him a small nod, signaling that you were fine, he reluctantly lowered it. Haechan’s heart, however, wasn’t fine. The shift in the atmosphere was undeniable. He had never known about your past with Jaehyun, and now, seeing the way Jaehyun was looking at you—he knew something happened.

Jaehyun swallowed hard, his voice thick with emotion. <<Come back with me. Everyone’s waiting for you. They miss you.>>

You looked at him, your eyes steady but distant. You knew he was lying. Deep down, you knew no one in that penthouse had been missing you. You had been nothing but a burden to them, and they had moved on the moment you had walked away.

<<Listen, what I said wasn’t true>> Jaehyun continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. <<I do like you too. No, damn it, I love you. I went crazy when you left. I hated everyone inside the penthouse. I was so scared of Taeyong and Doyoung. I’ve been their friends forever, and I fell for their little sister... It was wrong. They would’ve ended our friendship, and I couldn’t... All I’m saying is that you’re the love of my life, Y/N. Please come back with me. I need you>>

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. The tears threatened to fall, but you held them back, whispering in a voice full of pain. <<I’m the love of your life until I make you mad. Is that really love, Jaehyun?>> You could feel the weight of the question in your chest, and you were almost afraid to hear his answer. <<I spent days wondering if you loved me or hated me. It was draining>>

Jaehyun’s face crumpled, the reality of your words settling in. But before he could say anything else, you turned to Haechan, your gaze firm.

<<This is Haechan>> you said, your voice steady. <<I met him after I left the penthouse. He took me under his wing and taught me everything I needed to know to survive>>

Jaehyun turned his attention to Haechan, studying him with a mixture of curiosity and distrust. Haechan gave him a small nod in acknowledgment, his eyes lingering on your hand, where it remained unlinked from Jaehyun’s. Jaehyun’s hand hung awkwardly in the air for a moment before he finally dropped it.

<<He can come back with us>> Jaehyun said softly, his voice almost pleading. <<We have a penthouse and—>>

<<I’m not coming back, Jaehyun>> you interrupted, your voice firm, resolute. You pulled your hand away from him and stepped closer to Haechan, who instinctively moved to protect you. <<I have a new group, and I’m happy with them. I’m not a burden anymore.>>

Jaehyun’s face fell, his eyes full of pain and confusion. <<What about us?>> he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a deep breath, you looked him straight in the eye. <<With you, it’s always one step forward and three steps back, Jaehyun. You never had my back when I needed you the most. I’m done with that.>>

The words were out before you could stop them, and you felt the weight of them settle in your chest. Jaehyun’s face crumbled, the tears threatening to fall, but he held them back. He knew you were right. He had failed you when it mattered most.

You took a step away from him, your eyes not leaving his, before you turned to Haechan, who was already walking back toward the supplies. You didn’t look back again.

Jaehyun walked back to the penthouse, each step feeling heavier than the last. His mind kept replaying the moment he saw you again after all these months, but now you were different. Stronger. More independent. And then there was Haechan. Haechan had become a part of your life, a part that Jaehyun hadn’t expected, and one he wasn’t sure how to handle.

Entering the penthouse, he tried to mask the storm swirling inside him. The usual bustle of the group—Jungwoo, Yuta, Johnny, Taeyong, and Doyoung—was still going on. They were gathered around the table, talking and laughing, but Jaehyun couldn’t focus on any of it. His mind was still stuck on you: the way you looked at him, how you had changed, and the life you were leading without him.

He dropped his backpack heavily onto the floor, the sound echoing through the room, and everything came to a halt.

<<What's wrong, Jaehyun?>> Johnny asked, noticing the tension radiating from him.

Jaehyun took a deep breath, staring at the ground before speaking, his voice quiet and shaky. <<I saw her>>

The others exchanged confused glances. <<Who?>> Yuta asked, eyebrows furrowed.

<<Y/N>> Jaehyun’s voice cracked as he said your name. <<She’s not coming back>>

A long silence settled over the group as Jaehyun stood there, the weight of his words pressing down on him.

----

Once you returned, your backpacks heavy with supplies, everyone was happy with what you two brought but Haechan couldn’t stop stealing glances at you. His eyes darted toward you every few seconds, as though he had something to say but couldn’t quite gather the courage.

<<Y/N, can I talk to you?>> he finally said, his voice so quiet that it barely carried to you, let alone anyone else in the room.

You nodded, sensing the seriousness in his tone. You followed him outside, the air between you charged with unspoken words. Somehow, you ended up on the fifth floor, the very place you had met him for the first time. The memories were still vivid, etched into the walls and the quiet echoes of that space.

<<Can I ask you something?>> he began, hesitant but determined. <<Who was he?>>

His question caught you off guard, but you knew exactly who he meant. <<Jaehyun>> you admitted, looking at him directly. <<My brothers’ best friend... and my first and longest crush, you could say>>

The words felt heavier now that they were spoken aloud, but you wanted to be honest. <<I came from the tenth floor>> you continued softly. <<They’re all still there>>

Haechan nodded, taking in your words, his gaze flickering with a mix of curiosity and something deeper. <<Do you... still like him?>> he asked hesitantly, as though the answer might hurt him.

You held his gaze, shaking your head firmly. <<No>> you said, the truth steady in your voice.

He seemed to gather his thoughts for a moment before speaking again, his voice even quieter. <<Can I tell you something? You can forget it after I say it, if it’s too much>>

Your heart skipped a beat at the vulnerability in his tone. <<Go ahead>> you said gently.

<<When you first met me here..>> he began, his words slow, like he was picking each one carefully, <<I was debating whether to... end it or keep fighting>>

Your breath caught in your throat as his words settled over you. The weight of what he was saying hit hard, and you looked at him, your expression filled with quiet sadness.

<<That day, I asked for a reason to keep going>> he continued, his voice raw and filled with emotion. <<And, funny thing—after a few minutes, you appeared.>>

Your chest tightened at the revelation, and his gaze met yours, unwavering. <<When I saw you, you were… shining. So brightly. Like a light in all the darkness.>> He smiled faintly, but it was tinged with vulnerability. <<I just wanted to tell you that I like you, Y/N. I have since that day. And the more time I’ve spent with you, the stronger it’s gotten.>>

His words left you stunned for a moment, warmth blooming in your chest. When you found your voice, it was steady and sure. <<I like you too, Haechan>>

He blinked, surprised at first, and then his expression softened into something you’d never seen before—relief, joy, and nervous excitement all at once. <<Can I… kiss you?>> he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, and as he leaned in, your heart raced in time with his. The kiss started soft, tentative, but quickly grew deeper, more certain. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an unspoken exchange, an understanding that had been building between you for weeks.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were a little flustered, cheeks warm and breaths uneven. Haechan rubbed the back of his neck, a shy laugh escaping his lips. You’d never seen this side of Haechan before—timid, yet completely sincere.

<<So, uh>> he began awkwardly, <<would you—would you be my girlfriend?>>

Your answer came quickly, a soft but confident, <<I’d love to>>

Before he could say anything else, you leaned in to kiss him again, this time catching him off guard. He chuckled into the kiss, pulling you closer.

That floor, which had once been a place of shadows and uncertainty, now felt like the start of something new and bright—a place where the past faded, and your future together began

[Nothing can k*ll me like you do]

haechan x f!reader | jisung x f!reader | toxic relationships

INTRO: There are people who break you without ever laying a hand on you, people whose words and presence twist your heart until it bleeds, even when you try to run away. You were never supposed to go back, never supposed to fall for the same poison twice. But here you are, tangled in the same web, with no escape in sight.

Haechan was the first. The one who taught you that love can feel like a cage, no matter how sweet the promises. He pulled you in with a smile, and you thought you were strong enough to break free. You were wrong.

Then came Jisung, the calm after the storm. Or at least, that’s how he seemed—until the storm came back, and you couldn’t outrun it.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t fall again, but some promises were always meant to be broken. And now, you're struck between two men, both of whom have a hold on you jn ways you can’t explain.

Maybe it’s true what they say: nothing can kill me like you do.

warnings. toxic relationship, abus*d mentioned

Words count: 4.1k

Playlist:

Poison by Rita Ora

Back to you by Selena Gomez

Two years Rosé

-------------

<<I’m going to Japan for a while, you know what that means, right sweetheart?>>

His words were velvet laced with steel, soft but cutting. Sweetheart. The way he said it made your stomach churn—it was a nickname meant to tether you, not out of love, but control. He left. Of course, he left again.

He’s situationship!Haechan. The boy who couldn’t commit to you but refused to let you go. His hold on you was invisible but unshakable, like chains made of smoke. Every time he walked out, you told yourself it would be the last. And every time, you found yourself waiting for the sound of his footsteps coming back.

He had too many things to do—things infinitely more important than you. You were the only thing he could throw away, the only thing in his life without permanence. You were the disposable piece in his perfectly chaotic puzzle, the one thing that could be picked up and put down without consequence. You should’ve known better by now. You don’t even understand why it still caught you off guard, why the ache in your chest always felt new.

You felt alone. You always felt alone.

But somehow, you couldn’t stay away from him. It didn’t matter how much it hurt when he left or how hollow his affection felt when he was near. You always went back. Because he was the first person you ever loved.

Love.

Who knows if he even understood what love truly meant? Every time he said the words—I love you—you wanted so badly to believe them. For two years, you clung to those words like a lifeline, even when they felt like poison, pouring from his mouth and seeping into your veins.

Sweet poison. The kind that numbed the pain just enough to keep you craving more. You held onto those words, even as they left scars you couldn’t hide—a sweet, addictive toxin that took root in your heart and made you crave him, even when you knew he was no good for you.

Poison. That’s what his love was.

You hated yourself for it, for being so weak, for letting him have this much power over you. But no matter how far you tried to run from him—physically, emotionally—you always found your way back. He was a magnet, pulling you into his orbit no matter how much it hurt to stay there.

And yet, here you were. Waiting.

The tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t let them fall. Crying wouldn’t change anything; it never did.

You knew he’d come back. He always did. But not because he cared—not the way you wanted him to. He’d come back because he needed something from you. Comfort. Validation. A break from the chaos of his life.

And you’d give it to him, wouldn’t you?

Because, deep down, you still loved him.

He wasn’t your safe place—he was the fire you couldn’t stop running into, the storm you willingly stood in. You loved him with a desperation that bordered on self-destruction. And he knew it.

Haechan always knew how to keep you tethered, dangling just close enough to feel wanted but never enough to feel whole. He fed you scraps of affection, just enough to keep you addicted. You told yourself it wasn’t love—that love couldn’t possibly hurt this much—but it was the only word you knew to describe what you felt.

And maybe that’s why you let him leave so easily every time. Because deep down, you knew he’d come back. He couldn’t stay away, just like you couldn’t let him go.

It was a vicious cycle. One neither of you knew how to break.

<<Fuck>>

You muttered under your breath, glaring at the vending machine as it refused to cooperate. Of all days, it had to choose today to malfunction—the one day you desperately needed your banana milk fix to soothe the chaos in your mind.

The machine beeped mockingly, but no drink emerged. You hit the side of it lightly, more out of frustration than hope.

<<Here, I bought extras. You can have one.>>

Startled, you turned to see a boy holding out a bottle of banana milk. He looked a little shy, his eyes warm and gentle, like the kind of guy who’d lend a hand without a second thought. He was tall, with soft features that made him seem approachable, almost boyish.

<<Oh, uhm, thanks.>>

Normally, you wouldn’t take a random offering from a stranger. But today wasn’t normal. Today was heavy, suffocating—the day Haechan was leaving. The thought churned in your stomach, adding to the weight pressing on your chest. Against your better judgment, you reached out and took the bottle.

<<Can I ask for your name?>> he asked hesitantly, almost like he wasn’t sure he should. His voice was soft, unassuming.

<<Y/N. Third year of business>> you replied, still holding the bottle, unsure why you hadn’t walked away yet.

His lips curled into a small, nervous smile. <<Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Park Jisung. I’m in my second year of business >>

You nodded, offering a faint, polite smile in return. The exchange felt oddly significant, though you couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was because someone, even a stranger, had cared enough to notice you on a day when you felt invisible—when your mind was consumed with the thought of Haechan’s departure.

If someone had told you in that moment that Park Jisung would become a part of your life, you would’ve laughed it off. And if they’d told you that this seemingly kind boy would lead you into a relationship even more toxic than the one you were trying to escape, you wouldn’t have believed them.

But life has a funny way of surprising you—twisting kindness into something cruel, turning strangers into bittersweet memories.

You didn’t know it yet, but meeting Jisung was just the beginning of a new kind of chaos, a storm that would take you in its grip before you even realized you were caught.

For now, though, all you saw was a quiet boy offering you a simple act of kindness. And for a fleeting moment, you let yourself think it meant something more.

---

Months had passed, and your relationship with Jisung was... different. Amazing, even. He was the sweetest guy you had ever been with, and he treated you like you desperately wanted to be treated. For once, you felt seen—truly seen. In his eyes, you were more than just someone to keep around when it was convenient. You were his girlfriend. And despite how new this whole "girlfriend" situation was to you, Jisung was patient. He understood the struggle you faced in unlearning toxic patterns and figuring out what it meant to be loved in a healthy way. He taught you, slowly but surely, that love could be soft, steady, and unconditional.

The first time you met his friends, the "Dreamies", you were a little hesitant. You had always been so focused on your own little world—Haechan's world—that you didn't really care about anyone else. But Jisung made you feel welcome. His friends were fun, quirky, and much more laid-back than you expected. They were popular on campus, but they didn’t care about that; they were just a close-knit group, full of laughter and inside jokes. You didn’t know much about them at first, but as you got to know them, you realized how genuine and kind they all were, each one different from the people you’d once surrounded yourself with.

The best part was that Jisung made you feel like you belonged. He was always there, offering you support in ways you didn’t even know you needed. Whether it was a simple touch on your back when you were stressed or a shared quiet moment on the couch, he made you feel like you were finally safe. The cage you had been living in, built by your past with Haechan, was slowly breaking apart, piece by piece.

But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t last forever. Haechan always came back.

And when he did, it was just as chaotic as you had imagined.

You were walking toward Jisung, your thoughts occupied with the quiet comfort he always provided. The warmth of his presence, the ease with which he made you feel safe—everything about him was different from the chaos you had known with Haechan.

It started with a voice. A familiar one that made you freeze in your tracks. That voice, sharp and mocking, sliced through the air like a knife.

<<So you get behind my back as a revenge, sweetheart?>>

You froze in your tracks. Your heart skipped, and your breath caught in your throat. There he was. Haechan.

You hadn’t seen him in months, but the moment he spoke, it was as though time had rewound. All the walls you’d carefully built around your heart started to crumble. You didn’t even want to turn around, but your body betrayed you, forcing you to meet his gaze.

You tried to walk past him, to keep going toward Jisung, but Haechan’s presence was a force you couldn’t easily ignore. His eyes—dark, possessive, as always—locked onto you. You felt them like a weight, pressing down, pulling at your resolve.

Haechan wasn’t good at letting go. You knew that. It had always been this way with him—he’d leave, then return, as if you were something he could come back to when it suited him. And, despite everything, you knew it was only a matter of time before he came back to claim what he thought was his.

But this time, you weren’t the same person. Or, at least, you weren’t supposed to be.

You tried to ignore him but he stopped you, grabbing your wrist with a grip that felt like it could break you.

<<You really decided to choose the easiest target in my friend group?>> Haechan’s voice was cold, sharp. His eyes flicked to Jisung, who was sitting nearby. You could feel the resentment rolling off of him as he looked at your boyfriend. Haechan didn’t like seeing you with someone else. And he sure as hell didn’t like seeing you move on.

<<Haechan, please... let go of me>> you whispered, trying to gently pull away, but his grip was unyielding.

That’s when Jisung’s calm voice reached you, clear and firm.

<<Is there a problem?>>

The moment Jisung spoke, the air shifted. Haechan’s gaze snapped over to him, his expression hardening. There was a brief, tense silence before Haechan finally let go, though not without giving you one last, lingering look. It was the same look you’d seen so many times before—the look that had once pulled you back, the look full of promises, both spoken and unspoken.

You could feel your heart race, the tightness in your chest from the weight of that look. But you didn’t let it consume you. Instead, you moved closer to Jisung, letting your fingers brush against his. The simple contact grounded you, reminded you that this was your choice now.

<<No, baby>> you whispered, glancing up at Jisung. The warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, secure. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know he was here to protect you, to keep you safe from the past that was still trying to pull you back in.

Haechan scoffed, his voice dripping with bitterness. <<He’s your boyfriend, but you’re still the same, Y/N. You always will be>>

Jisung didn’t flinch. His gaze never left you. He didn’t even spare Haechan a second glance. His attention was completely on you—on the subtle way you tensed in his presence, on the slight tremble in your hand as you reached out for his. He could see it. He could see the way Haechan still had a hold on you, how you were still torn between two worlds.

His hand moved to the small of your back, a soft but firm gesture, as though silently reminding you that you were safe with him—that you didn’t have to go back to what was broken.

But you knew the truth. This wasn’t just about a confrontation between two people. It was about the scars Haechan had left, the damage that still lingered in your chest. And the more you stood there with Jisung by your side, the more you realized that the past had to stay there, in the past, where it belonged.

You weren’t that person anymore. You wouldn’t let him pull you back in.

As Jisung stood next to you, calm but with a tension in his body that mirrored your own, you could feel the weight of Haechan’s gaze on you, still trying to pull you into his web. But you refused. This time, you wouldn’t let him have that power over you.

Jisung, though, knew. He understood that Haechan wasn’t just someone from your past—he was a shadow that threatened to swallow your future if you weren’t careful. And for the first time, Jisung wasn’t just concerned with losing you to someone else. He was afraid that you might lose yourself to the past, to a version of you that was twisted by love and manipulation.

He could see the way you glanced back toward Haechan, the tension that still gripped your shoulders. But Jisung wasn’t going to let you slip away.

And as the moments stretched out, the realization began to settle in. Haechan wasn’t just a man from your past—he was the past you needed to let go of, if you wanted any chance at healing. Jisung—your present—was the one who could help you rebuild. Even if it meant fighting against everything that had torn you down before.

Or at least, Jisung thought he was your person, he desperately wanted to be your person.

----

From that day on, it was a constant back-and-forth between the three of you. Haechan always found a way to come back, to reclaim what he thought was his, pulling you back into his web like the pied piper leading you toward destruction. And Jisung, who once seemed like the sweetest guy next door, slowly began to change. You knew, deep down, it was your fault.

The way you kept going back to Haechan, even after you promised yourself—and Jisung—that you wouldn’t, creating cracks in the foundation of whatever you and Jisung had built. At first, he was understanding, and patient. He listened when you cried, waited when you pulled away, and forgave when you stumbled. But even the kindest hearts have limits.

Jisung began to harden. His quiet warmth turned cold, his gentle touches grew tense, and the boy who once gave you banana milk with a shy smile now gave you silence laced with resentment. The cracks became fissures, and soon enough, he wasn’t the same boy you’d met that day by the vending machine.

It all came to a head the day Jisung decided to marry you.

He thought that maybe, just maybe, a ring on your finger would make you stop running back to Haechan. That it would anchor you to him, tie you to a promise you couldn’t break. He wanted to believe that he was enough to make you stay.

But it didn’t, it only made things worse. The weight of his expectations, his growing frustration, and your inability to let go of Haechan created a storm neither of you could escape. The once-soft love he offered became sharp, laced with bitterness and possessiveness. He didn’t trust you anymore, and you didn’t blame him.

You tried to love him the way he deserved, but your heart was fractured, pieces of it still caught in Haechan’s grasp. And every time you faltered, Jisung sank deeper into the toxicity that had become your relationship.

<<Do you really want to marry him?>> Haechan’s voice echoed in your mind, cutting through the haze of your thoughts.

<<Haechan, please... I can’t do this anymore>> You couldn’t stop the tears from falling, even though you knew better than to cry in front of him.

<<So, to get over me, you want to marry him?>> He said it like he didn’t understand, but you knew better. He knew exactly how this would play out. He always did. He reached out, fingers threading through your hair with a tenderness that felt too familiar.

<<I would do anything and everything to get over you>> you whispered, your voice breaking as the weight of your own words hit you.

<<Oh, sweetheart>> Haechan’s voice softened with a mocking sadness. <<You need someone twisted to keep you. Otherwise, you'll run away>>

And he was right.

Jisung had begun to change in ways you hadn’t expected. He saw the way you still let Haechan worm his way into your heart. He saw you pulling away from him, always reaching for someone who didn’t want you the same way he did. So Jisung did the only thing he knew—he twisted himself.

You turned the nicest guy into the most toxic one. He started to become possessive, and distant. His eyes, once soft and full of warmth, began to harden. His affection turned into control, his care became an obsession. The jealousy that simmered in his chest boiled over, turning him into someone you barely recognized. It started slowly, with small comments, things that made you feel suffocated.

But soon, it wasn’t just the words. It was his actions. The way he gripped your wrist too tightly when you tried to walk away, the way he would get angry when you spoke to anyone else, even a passing acquaintance, the way his fingers tightened when you reached for your phone. The kindness that had once radiated from him was replaced with a jealousy that had festered too long. It wasn’t just in the way he looked at you anymore, but in the way he treated you—rough, sharp, demanding.

In bed or out of it, Jisung wasn’t the same boy who had once shyly offered you a drink. He was someone darker, more dangerous, someone who wanted control over every inch of you. Every time you tried to pull away, he pulled you back harder. Every time you tried to breathe, he smothered you with his need to possess you.

And yet, somehow, you stayed.

The ring hadn’t fixed anything. If anything, it made it worse. The more Jisung tried to tether you to him, the more you realized that the chains you’d placed on your heart were only growing tighter. You couldn’t escape. And you didn’t want to. Not really.

The cycle of toxicity had been set in motion the moment you let Haechan go and let Jisung in. But it wasn’t really about Jisung or Haechan anymore. It was about you. The choices you made, the heart you couldn’t let go of. You couldn’t fix them, and they couldn’t fix you.

And now, the pieces were shattered beyond repair.

-----

-----

[IN CASE YOU WANT A DIFFERENT ENDING:

The night before the wedding.

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection of the woman who had been torn apart by promises and lies. The wedding dress hung in front of you, a symbol of everything you thought you wanted, everything you thought would fix what had been broken. But in your heart, you knew nothing could fix this.

Not the wedding. Not the baby. Not Jisung’s unyielding belief that he was the father, or Haechan’s constant reminders that you were his. They had both clawed their way into your life, suffocating you with their demands, with their manipulations, until you couldn’t breathe without feeling guilty, without feeling like you were trapped between two worlds.

You had promised yourself you'd break free. But every time you tried, you ended up right back where you started—tangled in their webs, suffocating under the weight of their expectations. And now, with a baby growing inside you, everything was more complicated. You didn't even know who the father was, but both Jisung and Haechan had claimed it as their own, their constant pestering and demands driving you even further into a cage of their making.

Jisung’s patience had worn thin. He was convinced, as always, that marrying him would fix everything, that you would be his anchor, that you would finally be the person he always wanted you to be. He didn't care that you were fractured, broken in ways he couldn't understand. He just wanted the life he had imagined, the life where everything was perfect, where you were perfect.

And Haechan—he never stopped. His presence, his possessiveness, his constant belief that you were his, that you belonged to him, had wrapped around you like a vine, pulling you back every time you tried to escape. The way he always knew exactly what to say to make you question yourself, to make you second-guess the path you were on. The way he would remind you that you would never be free from him, no matter how hard you tried.

But tonight, in the silence of your room, as you stared at your reflection, you realized something: you had been living in their shadows for too long. You had let them decide your worth. You had let them determine your happiness. You had let them shape your future, and now, you couldn’t even remember who you were before they found you.

Jisung still believed it was his child. Haechan still believed it was his. And you? You didn’t even know. You didn’t know who the father was, but you knew this life wasn’t yours anymore. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine. You couldn’t keep pretending that this marriage, this baby, this life was what you had wanted.

A knock at the door.

You knew it was Jisung. He’d been waiting for you, just outside, desperate for you to come to him. But you couldn’t. Not like this. Not anymore.

With a shaky breath, you grabbed your phone and texted him: I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over as you stood up and grabbed your bag. The weight of the life you had built with Jisung—now a lie—pressed down on you. The weight of the past with Haechan, now tangled into your every decision, made your chest feel like it was caving in. You had let them both control your life, and now you needed to break free.

You called an Uber, as your heart pounded in your chest. You didn’t know where you were going. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to piece your life back together. But you knew this was the only choice left.

As the car pulled away from the apartment, you stared out the window, your heart aching. You couldn’t fix everything. You couldn’t undo the damage that had been done. But you could leave. You could finally choose yourself.

The baby inside you was a constant reminder of the mess you had made, but it wasn’t going to be your cage anymore. You didn’t know who the father was, and maybe it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that you were choosing your freedom, your future, even if it was terrifying, even if you didn’t have all the answers.

When the car stopped, you paid the driver and stepped out onto the unfamiliar street. The world felt too big, too overwhelming, but for the first time in years, you felt a sliver of peace.

You weren’t sure what the future held. You weren’t sure how everything would turn out. But for once, you were free.

And that was all you needed.

[You promised the world and I fell for it]

haechan x fem!reader | complicated relationship | babies mentioned | heartbreak

INTRO: You meet Haechan, and at first, it’s just a simple connection. Little did you know, it would change everything, leaving you questioning where it would all go. What started as an easy friendship quickly turned into something deeper, pulling you into a whirlwind of emotions, choices, and consequences you never saw coming.

Warnings. abort mentioned

Words count: 4.5k

"You really should come" your roommate urged, tugging at your sleeve as you sat cross-legged on your bed, scrolling through your phone.

"Girl, I said Chenle is cute, not that I’m trying to go anywhere with you" you shot back, smirking.

"But you could get to know him! You could get married, and I could be the bridesmaid!Damn you could even be richer than you already are" she replied, dreamily twirling a strand of her hair.

"I think you need to drink more chamomile tea, seriously" you teased, shaking your head.

Still, against your better judgment, you let her drag you to the gathering. It was one of those crowded house parties where everyone seemed to know everyone else—except for you. While your roommate whispered in your ear incessantly about Chenle—what he liked, what he didn’t—you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Someone was eavesdropping.

"Excuse me?" you said, catching him mid-act.

The guy looked up, and you immediately noticed his tan skin, mischievous smirk, and the way he leaned against the wall like he owned the place.

"Y/N, don’t" your roommate whispered in warning, tugging at your arm. Her eyes darted toward him nervously, like he was trouble incarnate.

Before she could say more, the guy finally spoke. His voice was light but edged with amusement.

"I was just trying to hear if you were talking bad about someone or spilling some drama. You were being loud" he said, tilting his head slightly.

"What’s your name?" you asked, stepping closer, ignoring your roommate’s frantic whispers.

"Haechan" he replied, his confident demeanor faltering as you leaned in a little too close. "Haechan did no one teach you that eavesdropping is bad?"

It was subtle, but you saw his shoulders tense, his breath hitch slightly. He wasn’t used to people closing the distance so easily, wasn’t used to someone looking him in the eye so boldly.

Looking back, you’d never have thought that simple interaction would change everything. At that moment, you were just curious about the guy everyone seemed wary of. But as time passed, you realized Haechan—or Donghyuck, as he asked you to call him—was more than his reputation.

People whispered about him all the time. How he was "crazy", unpredictable, and best avoided. You never understood why. To you, he seemed misunderstood. He had a sharp tongue, sure, but there was a warmth behind his teasing, a kindness in the way he looked out for his small circle of friends.

It was through Donghyuck that you learned about his twin brother, Lee Hyunjae, the school’s star soccer player and a golden boy everyone adored. The comparison had been there since they were kids, Donghyuck once told you. While Hyunjae shone on the field, Donghyuck found solace in things less conventional—gaming and art. He showed you his paintings one evening, shyly pulling them out from under his bed.

They were haunting. Sad, even.

"Why are they all so… dark?" you asked, tracing your fingers over a painting of a lone figure standing under a stormy sky.

"I don’t know. I guess it’s just what comes out" he said with a shrug, but his voice was quieter, more vulnerable than usual.

You later found out that painting was how he processed everything—the expectations, the loneliness, the weight of always being compared to someone else. His gaming, which you only got into because you wanted to understand him better, was his escape. Online, he wasn’t "Haechan the crazy guy." He was just Haechan, someone with a sharp sense of humor and a talent for making people laugh.

Over time, you became his safe space, and he became yours. While others feared the edges of his personality, you saw the softness underneath. And Donghyuck, who always kept people at arm’s length, let you in.

Maybe that’s why, despite everything, he didn’t flinch when you leaned close that first night. Somewhere deep down, he must’ve known you weren’t afraid of him.

----------

A few weeks after the party, your parents hosted a dinner that felt more like a matchmaking setup. To your surprise, the guest of honor was Chenle Zhong. The awkward small talk and forced pleasantries at the table were enough to drive you to your room the moment the dishes were cleared.

You were scrolling through your phone when your door creaked open, and Chenle walked in like he owned the place. He didn’t bother to ask if it was okay to sit on your bed—he just plopped down, crossing his legs casually. Ironic how that night weeks ago you wanted to get closer to him and that lead you to Haechan.

"So, is it true that you’re dating Haechan?" he asked, a sly grin tugging at his lips.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by the directness.You lowered your phone, narrowing your eyes at him.

"What?"

"Did you actually go insane, Y/N?" he added, tilting his head as if you were some unsolvable riddle.

Your jaw tightened. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because it’s the truth" he replied simply, leaning back on his hands. His tone wasn’t mocking, but there was something in it—concern, maybe, or disbelief.

"You can’t disrespect my friend inside my house" you said sharply, your voice firm.

"I’m not disrespecting him" he countered, his grin fading. "I’m warning you. Since we’re going to be friends anyway, thanks to our parents, I thought I’d be honest. People don’t just avoid him for no reason, you know"

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "What reason?"

"Look, Haechan… he’s unpredictable. He’s… intense" Chenle said carefully, watching your reaction. "He doesn’t care what people think, and that’s fine, I guess, but it makes him reckless. He’s not someone you want to get too close to."

"Reckless?" you echoed, scoffing. "That’s what everyone says because they don’t take the time to know him. Do you even know anything about him beyond the rumors?"

Chenle hesitated for a beat, but then he shrugged. "I know enough. He’s got a temper. He’s too much for most people to handle. I’m just saying you might be better off keeping your distance."

"If you want to be my friend, I think you should learn how to stay in your place and not get into my business" you snapped, leaning forward.

Chenle frowned. "Y/N, I’m trying to help you. You don’t have to get defensive—"

"Defensive?" you interrupted, your voice rising slightly. "Do you even hear yourself? You’re judging someone you don’t know and acting like you’re doing me a favor. But let me make one thing clear—Haechan is my friend. My choice. And nothing you say is going to change that."

Chenle sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m just saying… I’ve seen this kind of thing before. People get close to people like him, and it doesn’t end well. I didn’t mean to offend you. I just don’t want you to get hurt."

"You know what hurts more than Haechan ever could? People like you, who think they know everything about someone without ever bothering to look past the surface. He’s kind, he’s creative, and he cares more than most people I’ve met. You don’t get to call him reckless or unpredictable when you haven’t spent a single second trying to understand him"

Chenle blinked, taken aback by the intensity in your voice.

"Fine. Do what you want" he muttered, standing up. "But don’t say I didn’t warn you"

As he left, you closed your eyes, exhaling slowly. Maybe Chenle thought he was trying to help, but he didn’t understand. No one did.

Haechan was more than the reputation that preceded him. And no matter what anyone said, no one would ever separate you from him.

----------

It had become a routine of sorts, these quiet moments together. Haechan sat cross-legged on the floor of his small living room, fiddling with the pieces of an old gaming console he was trying to fix.

"You’re really just going to sit there and ignore me the whole time?" you teased from your spot on the couch, your legs tucked underneath you as you flipped through a magazine you weren’t actually reading.

"I’m not ignoring you" he replied without looking up, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "I’m multitasking. Fixing this and enjoying your company."

"Uh-huh, sure." You rolled your eyes, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table. Leaning forward, you propped your chin on your hands. "What even is that thing? A time machine? A relic from your childhood?"

"First of all, it’s a masterpiece of technology" he said, finally glancing up at you. His expression was mock-serious, but the glint of amusement in his eyes betrayed him. "Second, it’s not a relic. It’s vintage. There’s a difference."

"Ah, vintage. Got it. My bad"

He laughed, shaking his head as he held up a tiny screwdriver. "You know, you could help instead of just sitting there judging me."

"Oh, you don’t want my help, trust me. Last time I tried to ‘fix’ something, I broke my mom’s toaster."

"How do you even break a toaster?"

"Talent" you said with a smirk.

He snorted, setting the screwdriver down and leaning back on his hands. "Well, maybe you’re better suited for moral support. Or entertainment"

"Entertainment, huh?" You raised an eyebrow, standing up and walking over to where he was sitting. "Okay, how about this—"

Before he could react, you plopped down beside him, grabbing one of the small screws from his tool kit and holding it up dramatically.

"I am now your apprentice. Teach me your ancient ways, oh wise one"

Haechan burst out laughing, his head tipping back as he clutched his stomach. "You’re ridiculous, you know that?"

"I try" you said with a grin, nudging his shoulder playfully.

For the next hour, the two of you worked—or rather, he worked while you attempted to “help,” which mostly consisted of you handing him the wrong tools and cracking jokes that made him laugh so hard he had to stop what he was doing.

At some point, he stopped pretending to fix the console and just leaned back against the couch, watching you as you tried to piece together a random part.

"You know" he said, his voice soft, "you’re a lot more fun than anyone gives you credit for"

"What’s that supposed to mean?" you asked, narrowing your eyes playfully.

"I’m just saying, you make everything better. Even this" he said, gesturing to the scattered tools and half-finished project.

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. So, you just smiled, nudging him with your shoulder again.

"You’re not so bad yourself, Haechan"

"Donghyuck" he corrected with a grin.

"Fine. Donghyuck" you said, rolling your eyes, but the smile on your face betrayed your affection.

In moments like these, it was impossible not to fall a little harder for him.

-------

It hadn’t been long since both your families found out about the connection between you and Donghyuck. To your dismay, they arranged a formal dinner, which quickly turned into something far worse than you anticipated.

You sat at the dining table, your stomach churning as tension filled the room. Across from you, Donghyuck sat stiffly, his eyes fixed on the table. He wasn’t saying much—just letting the weight of everyone’s judgment press down on him.

Then his father spoke, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

"We’re asking you to stop spending time with Donghyuck. He has too many issues, and we believe this… association will only create problems for you."

Your heart sank, but before you could respond, his mother chimed in.

"You could get to know Hyunjae instead. He’s more… suitable. But Donghyuck? We’ve been discussing sending him to a mental hospital. We’ve seen his paintings, and his behavior at school only confirms what we’ve feared"

The words hung in the air, suffocating. You glanced at Donghyuck. His expression was blank, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly.

And something in you snapped.

"You know what you can’t see?" you said, your voice trembling but growing stronger with each word. "That he doesn’t freaking need a mental hospital. He needs his parents’ support! He needs you to stop tearing him apart and actually care about him!"

The entire table turned to you, stunned. Donghyuck’s eyes widened, a mix of shock and something deeper—gratitude, maybe. No one had ever stood up for him like that. Not his brother, Hyunjae, who was too busy being the golden child, nor his sister, who always stayed quiet to avoid conflict.

"Y/N" your dad warned, his voice low and sharp. His disapproval was clear, but you didn’t back down.

You turned to your father, your eyes pleading for understanding. But all you got was a glare that told you you were on your own.

"Hyuck, stand up and come with me" you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging in your chest.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his gaze flickering between you and his parents. Something in your unwavering gaze gave him the courage to move. He stood, and without a word, followed you out the door.

The cool night air greeted you as you stepped outside. Before you could say anything, Hyuck stopped abruptly, turning to you with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude in his eyes.

Then, before you could process what was happening, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t planned, and it wasn’t perfect. It was messy and desperate, full of emotions neither of you could put into words. Your first kiss with him was unexpected, but it felt like the only way to say what needed to be said.

When he pulled back, his voice was low and raw. "Let’s go"

You ended up at a modest hotel, far from the judgment of your families. The room was small but cozy, with warm yellow lighting and a faint scent of lavender from the soap left on the bathroom counter. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was yours—a temporary refuge from everything outside.

That night, the two of you stayed up talking about everything. Your fears, your dreams, the things you wished someone had told you when you needed it most. For the first time in what felt like forever, you could just be yourselves without any pretense.

"Gosh, you drive me insane" Donghyuck muttered at one point, shaking his head with a small smile as he absently played with your hands.

"Good" you teased softly, brushing your fingers through your hair as you watched him, warmth spreading through your chest.

Later, as you lay tangled in the sheets, he stared at you with a softness that made your chest ache. There was something unspoken in his eyes, something that told you everything about this moment was right.

When he leaned in to kiss you again, his touch gentle and deliberate, your heart raced. It felt natural, effortless, but the weight of the moment made you pause. You bit your lip, needing to say it before things went any further.

"Oh, um… I—I’ve never…" you stammered, your voice trembling slightly. His brows furrowed in curiosity as he studied your face, waiting for you to finish.

"I’ve never done this before, so… um, yeah" you admitted, your cheeks flushing as you averted your gaze.

For a moment, there was silence, but then he chuckled softly. The sound was warm and reassuring, easing some of your nerves.

"Hey, it’s okay" he murmured, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles on the back of your hand. "We don’t have to rush anything"

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his steady gaze. There was no judgment, no pressure—just him, patient and kind, waiting for you.

"I want this to be right for you. For us" he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

His words made your chest tighten with emotion, and you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Okay" you said softly, leaning into his touch, trusting him completely.

In that moment, you knew—no matter what happened next, you were exactly where you wanted to be.

And for a few weeks, it felt like you were in your own little world. No one could reach you, no one could judge you. It was just the two of you, figuring things out together.

But one morning, you woke up to an empty bed.

You frowned, blinking in confusion. At first, you thought maybe he’d gone to grab breakfast or take a walk, but when you sat up, your heart sank. There was a folded note on the pillow beside you.

With shaking hands, you opened it. The words stared back at you, scrawled in his unmistakable handwriting:

"I’m sorry. This was a mistake. I can’t do this anymore. Take care of yourself."

He left.

He freaking left.

Tears welled in your eyes as the weight of his absence hit you like a tidal wave. You threw the note onto the bed, your chest tightening with each breath.

But that wasn’t the worst part. As you stumbled to the bathroom, a wave of nausea overtook you, and you barely made it to the sink before your stomach turned violently.

As you stared at yourself in the mirror, pale and trembling, one terrifying thought clawed its way into your mind.

Something was wrong.

Something was very, very wrong.

---------

Years had passed since the day you made that painful decision. The world had turned its back on you. You were young, still trying to finish university, and struggling to navigate a situation no one had prepared you for. Everyone abandoned you, except for Chenle. He offered to help, even said he’d be there for you and the baby. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t the right choice—your heart was heavy with guilt, and it felt wrong.

Meanwhile, Haechan was out living his life, traveling the world with his gamer friends, carefree and unburdened, while you were left alone with nothing but your thoughts and a painful decision that you could never undo. You tried to reach out to him, desperate for him to acknowledge what had happened, but he was unreachable.

Months passed, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of abandonment. You were left alone with the weight of a choice that still haunted you. The loneliness was unbearable, and as time went on, you searched for anything that might explain his silence. That’s when you discovered it.

One night, you were scrolling online, looking for a distraction, when you came across an article. “Haechan – NCT member, professional gamer, rising star in international tournaments.” You stared at the screen in disbelief. Donghyuck had been scouted for a professional gaming career, traveling the world, competing in tournaments, and making a name for himself. It all made sense now—his sudden disappearance, his lack of contact. He had been chasing his dream, and you were just a footnote in his story.

It hurt. More than you expected. You had been left to carry the burden on your own, and all the while, he was out there living his dream. You felt like you had been nothing more than an afterthought. There was no mention of any apology or explanation in the article. No sign that he cared about what had happened between you two. And as you sat there, alone in your room, you couldn’t help but wonder if things could’ve been different if he had stayed—or if he had cared to be there when you needed him most.

This addition shows that Donghyuck’s decision to leave was tied to a major opportunity he didn’t communicate to you, making his absence more understandable in the context of his career. But it also deepens the emotional weight for you, discovering it online rather than hearing it from him directly.

Eventually, you made the choice to terminate the pregnancy. The guilt never left. It haunted you—every day, every night. It weighed on your soul like a constant shadow. You didn’t know how to move forward, but time, it seemed, had a way of dulling the pain. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

And then, years later, you walked into a grocery store, lost in your own world as you grabbed items off the shelf. But when you turned the corner, your eyes locked onto a familiar face. The world seemed to stop at that moment.

“Donghyuck?” Your voice cracked, almost a whisper, but he heard it.

His head snapped up, and there he was, standing in the aisle with a baby in his arms. A baby. His baby? No… it couldn’t be.

“Y/N?” he said, his voice filled with surprise, and then a hesitant smile. "It’s been a while. How are you?" But his eyes flicked nervously to the baby in his arms.

You couldn’t stop looking at the child, no more than two years old, with his big brown eyes staring up at you. The guilt that had been buried for so long resurfaced in an instant.

“Why didn’t you want mine?” The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it. The pain of all those years without him, without any explanation, came crashing back.

“What are you talking about?” He looked genuinely confused, as though he didn’t understand where this was coming from.

“Don’t act dumb” you snapped, your heart pounding in your chest. It was hard to hold back the tears. "You left me when I needed you the most."

He stood still, silent, his eyes dropping to the floor. And then, a soft, pained whisper: "I’m sorry."

You looked away, the words stinging. "I tried to contact you. I tried to let you know about the baby"

He froze, his eyes wide with confusion. “A… baby?” His voice barely reached you, his shock apparent as he processed your words.

“That’s what happens when you don’t use condoms, Donghyuck. And it was for weeks if you remember” you said, the bitterness lacing your voice. His world shattered, the guilt and realization settling in. He had been an idiot. But why had he left in the first place?

“I thought I was going to ruin your life, Y/N.I… I didn’t think I could give you this. I didn’t think I could give you the life you deserve” he confessed, voice trembling as he tried to explain.

You met his gaze, the tears threatening to spill. "You did it anyway, Donghyuck. I was left alone. I couldn’t raise it, so I had to…" Your voice caught, and for a moment, the weight of it all was too much. "I still feel guilty"

The words felt too heavy to carry, but you said them anyway, hoping that he would somehow understand the pain you had lived with all these years.

Donghyuck stepped closer, his face full of regret and sorrow. "Listen, can we get coffee? We can talk about it, I promise."

But before you could answer, a small voice broke through the heavy silence.

“Mama!” A little boy came running toward you, arms outstretched. The sight of him made your heart swell. You crouched down, opening your arms, and as he ran into them, you heard a familiar voice approaching from behind.

"Y/N, I know you said no more junk food but…” Chenle’s voice, filled with both guilt and warmth, met your ears. He was pushing a stroller, and when he saw Donghyuck, his eyes narrowed instinctively.

You smiled softly as you lifted your son, Yoonoh, in your arms, his tiny hands gripping yours. "Meet my beautiful boy, Yoonoh. He’s three years old" You looked down at your child, your heart swelling with love. "And this one’s my beautiful girl, Minju.She's one year old" Your daughter, nestled safely in the stroller, gave a soft giggle at her brother’s antics.

Donghyuck stared at them for a moment, disbelief on his face. "You got married?" His voice was hesitant, unsure.

You nodded, glancing at Chenle, who had come to stand by your side. "Yes. Chenle loved me, helped me when I could barely love myself. He’s been my support all these years"

Donghyuck stood there, feeling like his world had crumbled. This should’ve been him. He wanted to be the one to give you that life, to raise those kids with you. The realization hit him harder than anything else.

The pain of regret was sharp. His hands clenched at his sides, the weight of his past mistakes pressing down on him. He could’ve been the one to be there for you, to help you raise your family. But now, you had moved on, and he was left with nothing but the shadow of what could’ve been.

And in that moment, Donghyuck realized that all along, the child he had been holding wasn’t his—and never would be. It was his friend’s child, a fact he hadn’t bothered to explain, leaving you to assume the worst. It was easier for him that way—because if you hated him, he wouldn’t have to face the consequences of what he’d done. It was his way of coping with his shame, with the guilt of abandoning you all those years ago.

He looked at Yoonoh and Minju, your children, and the family that you had built with someone else. The weight of his mistakes felt unbearable, and the void of what could have been seemed infinite, like an emptiness that stretched beyond his reach. How could he have let this happen? Why hadn’t he stepped up when it mattered? He had been too afraid to face his fears, too afraid to face his responsibilities. And now, it was too late.

And maybe, just maybe, Chenle was right. His leaving, his hesitation, his fear—it had all led to this. He had pushed you away when he should have been there. He had let his own insecurities dictate the course of both your lives. If only he had stayed, if only he had chosen to face the responsibility, to choose you the way you chose him—things could have been different.

Now, as he stood there, watching you walk away with your children—his heart sank. The void of what could have been seemed like a chasm, too wide to cross, an endless abyss of lost opportunities. He had been too scared to face the future, too scared to take responsibility. And now, all that was left were the painful echoes of a past that could never be undone.

It was too late for him. Too late for redemption. Too late to fix the mistakes that had haunted him all these years.

[Nobody's promised tomorrow]

heachan x fem!reader | established relationship | sweet home inspired | marriage au | zombies au

INTRO: Three years ago, your world shifted when you met your boyfriend!Haechan. He was like sunlight breaking through stormy clouds, warming parts of you that you thought had long grown cold. With him, your life had purpose again—something worth fighting for, something worth holding onto.But six months ago, everything changed. A virus swept through the country like wildfire, turning people into monsters, stripping humanity down to its raw, savage core. Survival became the only constant, and love—no matter how deep—felt fragile in a world overrun by death.Yet, even amidst the chaos, Haechan was your anchor. Life as you knew it might have crumbled, but with him, there was still something worth living for.

warnings. violence | language

words count: 5.4k

Playlist:

Marry you by Bruno Mars | Chihiro by Billie Eilish | Die with a smile by Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga