taesanbnd

now you’re here — curled up on the couch in his dorm on a rare day off, his head resting in your lap while a soft lo-fi playlist hums in the background. outside, rain patters gently against the window. inside, everything feels warm and safe.

euijoo looks up at you with those big, sparkling eyes, his dark hair falling messily across his forehead. “are you comfortable?” he asks for the third time. “i can move if my head is too heavy.”

you laugh softly and thread your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. “you’re perfect right here, joo. stop worrying.”

he smiles shyly, cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink. even after months together, compliments still make him blush like it’s the first time. he turns his face into your stomach, hiding, and wraps his arms around your waist in a gentle hug.

“i like this,” he mumbles against your sweater. “just… being with you. no schedules. no cameras. just us.”

your heart feels too big for your chest. you lean down and press a kiss to the top of his head. he smells like his coconut shampoo and the faint scent of the vanilla candle he lit earlier.

“me too,” you whisper. “i’ve been looking forward to today all week.”

he lifts his head again, resting his chin on your tummy so he can look at you properly. his gaze is so soft it makes you melt. “really?”

“really. i missed my favorite person.”

euijoo’s smile grows wider, bright and genuine. he reaches up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly across your skin like you’re something delicate and precious. then he slowly pulls you down for a kiss — sweet, lingering, and full of quiet affection. his lips are soft and taste faintly like the strawberries you shared earlier.

when he pulls away, he doesn’t go far. just rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed, breathing you in.

“i’m really lucky,” he says quietly. “sometimes i still can’t believe you chose me.”

you frown and poke his cheek. “hey. none of that. i chose you because you’re kind, and thoughtful, and you make me feel safe. and because you always save the last strawberry for me.”

he laughs — that bright, melodic sound you love so much. “i’ll save every strawberry for you from now on.”

you both shift until you’re lying face to face on the couch, legs tangled together under a fluffy blanket. euijoo plays with your fingers, tracing patterns across your palm as he tells you about his week — the funny moments in dance practice, how harua tried to prank him again, how much he missed you between schedules.

you listen, nodding along, occasionally reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. every few minutes he leans in to steal another soft kiss, like he can’t help himself.

after a while, his stomach growls.

you raise an eyebrow. “hungry?”

he nods, looking a little embarrassed. “we skipped lunch because we were napping…”

“come on,” you say, tugging him up. “let’s make something.”

in the kitchen, euijoo is in his element. he’s surprisingly good at cooking — patient and precise. you stand behind him with your arms wrapped around his waist, chin on his shoulder, watching as he chops vegetables for fried rice. every now and then he lifts a piece to your lips for you to taste.

“too salty?” he asks, glancing back at you.

“perfect,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade.

he turns around in your arms, spoon still in hand, and smiles down at you. “you’re distracting me.”

“good,” you tease, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. he melts instantly, free hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as he kisses you back sweetly.

the rice almost burns because you get too caught up in each other, but euijoo saves it with a dramatic gasp and quick stir. you both laugh as you plate the food and carry it back to the couch, eating while watching an anime he’s been wanting to show you.

halfway through the episode, your bowl is empty and you’re back in his arms. euijoo pulls the blanket higher around your shoulders and tucks you closer against his chest. his heartbeat is steady under your ear.

“i love days like this,” he whispers, lips brushing your temple. “i wish i could have more of them with you. i know my schedule is crazy and—”

you tilt your head up and silence him with a gentle kiss. “we take what we can get, joo. and these quiet moments? they’re more than enough.”

he looks at you with so much love in his eyes it almost overwhelms you. “i’m going to marry you one day,” he says suddenly, voice barely above a whisper, like it’s a secret he’s been keeping. “if you’ll have me.”

your breath catches. even though it’s not a formal proposal, the sincerity in his voice makes your eyes sting.

“of course i will,” you answer, cupping his face. “i’d be the luckiest person in the world.”

euijoo’s smile is radiant. he kisses you again — slower this time, deeper, full of promises and future plans and all the gentle love he carries for you.

when you pull apart, he rests his cheek on top of your head and sighs happily.

“thank you for choosing me,” he murmurs. “every day i’m going to try to be someone worthy of you.”

you snuggle deeper into his chest, listening to the rain and his heartbeat.

“you already are, euijoo. you always have been.”

the anime continues playing in the background, but neither of you is really watching anymore. you’re too busy exchanging soft kisses, quiet giggles, and whispered “i love you”s under the warm glow of the living room lights.

outside, the rain keeps falling.

inside, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world feels perfectly complete.

euijoo presses one last kiss to your forehead as your eyes grow heavy.

“sleep, baby,” he whispers. “i’ll be right here when you wake up. always.”

and you believe him.

© jongst4r, 2026

"you?"

"it has my face."

"it's a puppy."

"exactly."

you'd spent the next ten minutes listening to him bark at you to prove his point.

so now your sign reads, in giant glitter letters:

go maki 🐶🇯🇵

surrounding the words are at least thirteen terribly drawn little puppies. some have floppy ears, some have pointy ears, one somehow has three legs, and obviously another is wearing sunglasses.

you'd spent far more time making it than you'd ever admit out loud.

as the team runs out, you rise with the rest of the crowd, giving a small hop as you hold your sign above your head.

the moment maki steps onto the field, he spots it.

you actually watch the realization hit him from halfway across the stadium.

his eyes go impossibly wide.

his mouth falls open.

and then every ounce of composure leaves his body.

both of his arms shoot into the air, and he starts waving with enough enthusiasm to catch the attention of half your section. he’s bouncing on his toes, pointing at your sign, then at himself, then back again, similar to his reaction when he sees a free sample stand at the grocery store.

he's practically looking at everyone around him like,

"look! look! that's me! that's for me!"

you can't help but laugh.

neither can the people sitting around you.

somewhere in the stadium, a camera zooms in, because there's no way something this ridiculous escapes the broadcast, and the commentators are already trying to explain why one member of japan's starting lineup looks like he just reunited with his long-lost family.

and like a ripple spreading outward, maki’s reaction pulls the rest of his team into a wave of slight chaos as well.

jo is already doubled over laughing.

nicholas has his face buried in his hands.

yuma is actually applauding.

fuma looks like he's about two seconds away from falling over.

and even ej glances over, notices your sign, and sends you the sweetest little wave before looking back at maki with the expression of someone who absolutely saw this coming.

the entire line has turned to stare at him.

then, from somewhere behind them—

"maki!"

the coach's loud voice cuts through everything.

he freezes instantly.

"...yes, coach."

"stop jumping."

"...okay."

for exactly five seconds, he behaves.

then he sneaks another gigantic wave in your direction.

the coach pinches the bridge of his nose.

k, wearing the captain's armband and trying so hard to be the responsible one, reaches over with all the exhausted patience of someone who's dealt with this before and physically lowers one of maki's arms.

"save it until after the match."

maki nods with complete sincerity.

waits approximately half a second.

then immediately raises his other hand and waves again.

k just gives up.

by now you're laughing so hard you have to sit down before your knees give out.

the girl next to you watches the entire exchange, looks at your puppy-covered sign, then back at the boy on the field who's now very obviously trying to make a heart over his head before k shoves his arms back down again.

she leans over.

"...does he know you?"

you look back toward the field just in time to catch maki glancing over again.

the second your eyes meet, his face lights up all over again before he hastily disguises it by pretending to stretch with an expression that is, frankly, convincing absolutely no one.

you look back at the girl.

"...i mean..."

you let the sentence hang for a second.

"...we've definitely met before."

which is technically true.

and technically doesn't answer her question at all.

—

the whistle blows.

and just like that, everything changes.

it’s almost unfair how quickly maki disappears into the game, like someone flipped a switch and turned all that chaotic, puppy energy into something sharp and unstoppable. one second he’s still grinning from your direction, and the next he’s gone into it completely.

he’s everywhere.

winning tackles that make the crowd inhale at once.

making runs that look impossible until he somehow turns them real.

slipping passes through spaces that definitely should not exist.

every time he gets the ball, your entire section erupts like it’s a personal event.

by the time halftime rolls around, your voice is gone, stolen somewhere between cheering and laughing and screaming his name with everyone else.

then the second half barely settles before it happens.

he scores.

of course he scores.

the stadium erupts into a roar.

it’s not even just noise anymore—it feels like the air itself is shaking, like the whole place has decided to forget how to be quiet at once. his teammates crash into him in a pile of celebration, dragging him down in a tangle of arms and laughter, but somehow he slips free almost immediately.

and instead of running back to the group—

he turns.

straight toward your section.

it’s not casual. not accidental. not even subtle in the slightest.

he finds you instantly.

like he was always going to.

without hesitation, he taps the badge on his jersey once, then points directly at you.

not the crowd.

not vaguely in your direction.

at. you.

your brain short-circuits on contact.

you instinctively point back, except it comes out more like a horrified accusation than a celebration.

for a half second, everything freezes.

then he breaks into the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face.

the people around you slowly start turning their heads.

you can feel it—the shift, the realization creeping through your section.

the dad behind you looks from maki…

to you…

back to maki again.

he pauses.

then, very quietly, like he’s just solved a puzzle:

“…oh.”

that single word is enough.

the girls sitting next to you immediately explode.

“he was looking at you.”

“wait—that was for you, right?”

“do you know him??”

your face is absolutely, catastrophically warm—somewhere between embarrassment and the exact shade of the jersey on the field.

down below, chaos is still unfolding.

k has maki by the shoulders now, trying—unsuccessfully—to redirect him back toward the actual team celebration while laughing so hard he can barely keep his balance.

harua is openly pointing up into the stands.

taki is absolutely looking right at you.

and maki is still trying to angle himself back toward your section like he has not, in fact, just been physically restrained by his captain.

the broadcast camera catches all of it.

every second of it.

and somewhere, without you needing to see it, you already know what’s happening—phones lighting up, clips being cut, reactions multiplying faster than anyone can track.

because within minutes, social media is no longer normal.

it has stopped functioning entirely.

—

after the win comes the press conference.

and for a brief, fragile moment, everyone tries to pretend they're being normal about it.

but they're not.

the first questions are exactly what you’d expect—strategy, formations, team chemistry, the usual careful post-match choreography of professional answers and polite nodding. the players slip into it easily, like muscle memory.

almost convincingly.

then a reporter smiles.

not the professional kind of smile either. the kind that already knows where this is going.

“maki…”

he immediately breaks.

a laugh slips out before he can stop it, small and betrayed.

“…yes?”

the reporter tilts their head slightly. “after your goal, there seemed to be someone very specific you were pointing at.”

that does it.

his ears go red almost instantly.

“um—”

he tries to recover, but he’s already giggling too much, like his face has completely stopped listening to him.

another reporter jumps in before he can escape.

“and before the match, you seemed very excited to see someone in the crowd.”

now he’s properly flustered. he looks down at the table like it might save him.

“i—”

a third voice, mercilessly calm.

“was there anyone in particular you were playing for today?”

that one lands completely.

he makes a sound that is halfway between a laugh and surrender, actually covering his face for a second as his shoulders shake. his ears are fully red now, and there is no coming back from it.

he cannot answer.

he is, unfortunately, nervously laughing too hard into the microphone to form human words.

at the end of the table, k slowly reaches over and slides the microphone toward himself with the quiet resignation of someone who has seen too much.

he straightens.

perfect posture. captain face. absolute professionalism.

“the entire team always appreciates the support of every fan in the stadium.”

clean. safe. untouchable.

a model answer.

the room nods like that settles everything.

but it doesn't.

because next to him, maki is still smiling down at the table like he’s trying—and failing—to look like someone who was not just emotionally destroyed by a single question. he keeps pressing his lips together like it might help.

but it doesn't help.

nicholas, two seats over, refuses to look at him at all, which is honestly worse, because his shoulders are already shaking like he’s one glance away from losing it on camera.

someone mutters something off-mic.

maki hears it.

laughs again.

k closes his eyes for half a second like he is asking the universe for strength.

the clip goes up almost immediately.

within minutes, it’s everywhere.

and the top comment, sitting there at the very top like a verdict delivered by the internet itself, reads:

bro is not beating the boyfriend allegations

—

after everything—the win, the noise, the interviews, the slow unraveling of maki on international television—you don’t actually expect him to appear so fast afterward.

but he does.

and he doesn’t slow down.

doesn’t wave.

doesn’t even attempt anything resembling composure.

just maki, suddenly there, walking (if you can even call it that) straight toward you like the world is something he can simply push through if he wants to.

he reaches out and pulls you into the biggest hug imaginable, like he’s been holding it in all day and finally ran out of patience for restraint.

it’s tight, immediate, a little breathless in the way only him and post-match adrenaline can be.

you’re tucked firmly in his arms, pressed in close enough that your voice comes out a little muffled when you finally speak, and you tilt your head up to look at him.

“you literally pointed straight at me,” you say, like you’re reminding him of something deeply incriminating.

his hand pauses before he gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear while looking down at you, like he’s already decided there’s no real defense for this.

“…i know,” he answers immediately.

“in front of the entire world.”

“…i know.”

“maki,” you try again, but it doesn’t carry much weight when you’re still leaning into him, cheek pressed against him like you’ve forgotten how to stand on your own.

he goes still for a moment, then sighs softly.

“…i got excited to see you,” he admits, quieter now, his head resting lightly on top of yours as he holds you a little closer.

that, unfortunately, ruins your attempt at being serious.

you look up at him properly, and there it is again—that same boyish expression, a little sheepish, a little too pleased, like he’s already forgiven himself and is just waiting for you to catch up.

you reach up and poke his cheek.

not hard. just enough to make him blink.

“you looked so happy,” you say softly, like you can’t quite stop the pride from showing, your voice full of quiet affection.

“i am,” he says right away, completely honest, no second thought.

“the coach had to tell you to stop waving,” you continue, voice lighter now, like you’re trying not to laugh.

“…yeah.”

“k physically had to hold your arm down,” you add.

“…you're not wrong.”

“and the press conference?” you say, already smiling.

that finally gets him.

he lets out a quiet laugh, and it breaks you too, the two of you dissolving into it together—standing close, shoulders brushing, like you’ve forgotten there’s anyone else around.

it fades slowly, but not all the way.

he leans in first, resting his forehead gently against yours, like he’s been doing it forever and will keep doing it long after this moment is over.

“did i do okay?” he asks, quieter now.

the question is so simple it almost feels out of place after everything.

you don’t even hesitate.

“you were incredible,” you say, and there’s no teasing in it for once, just certainty. “you were everywhere. that goal was ridiculous. i was screaming so much i genuinely don’t think i have a voice left.”

“…i heard you,” he says.

that makes you pause.

“wait,” you say, narrowing your eyes a little, “you could hear me?”

he nods like it’s obvious. “the whole time.”

there’s something about the way he says it—so matter-of-fact, so quietly pleased—that makes your chest feel strangely warm.

so you do what you always do when you don’t trust your emotions to behave properly.

you fix his hair.

it’s still messy from the match, still refusing to cooperate, and he leans into your hand without even thinking about it.

“you looked really cool,” you murmur.

that’s when he finally starts to fall apart again.

“stop,” he says, but it’s weaker this time.

“you did,” you continue anyway, because of course you do. “you were so, so cool… world cup goal scorer maki. i don’t think i’ll ever get over that.”

“…stopppp,” he repeats, but now he’s definitely red again.

“and,” you add, lightly nudging him until his eyes meet yours, “pretty handsome too.”

that one finishes him.

he lets out a weak, failed protest before immediately hiding his face against your shoulder, utterly defeated.

“you’re making fun of me,” he mumbles into you.

“no, i’m not,” you say quickly, voice soft and steady. “i really am proud of you. i’m so so so proud of you.”

then, after a pause that feels softer than everything before it, his voice drops.

“… i’m really proud of you too.”

that makes you go quiet for a second.

for a moment, your mind flickers back—late nights during his world cup training, when everything was exhausting and time barely felt real. when he barely had time to breathe, let alone anything else. and still, you showed up. still waited. still stayed through all the hardest parts without asking for anything back.

he adds quietly, softer now. “thank you… for staying. for all of it.”

so you just squeeze his hand a little tighter in return.

when he finally speaks again, it’s almost hesitant.

“…can i keep the sign?”

you glance up at him.

“the puppy one?”

he nods immediately.

you tilt your head slightly, studying him. “are you sure? it’s not even that cute.”

“of course it is,” he says right away, like there’s no question at all.

you just stare at him for a second.

he doesn’t budge under your look. “it's mine.”

he takes it carefully, like it’s something far more fragile than paper and glitter and questionable art skills. both hands. serious now.

he smooths it out gently, folds it with more care than it probably deserves, and tucks it against his chest like he’s decided it belongs there.

when the team starts calling for him again, he still doesn’t let go right away.

like he’s stretching out the last few seconds without even thinking about it.

then he steps back.

looks at you for a moment—nothing dramatic, just steady, familiar.

and before you can even react—

he leans in and kisses you. quick, soft, unthinking, like it’s just something he’s always done and always will.

and then he’s gone, sprinting off toward the bus before anyone can fully react.

because the rest of the team is already at the windows. plastered against the glass.

making heart shapes. waving dramatically like they’re in a tragic airport goodbye scene. someone has definitely started fake sobbing.

and he goes red all over again, as if that’s somehow still possible.

you’re left standing there laughing to yourself as the bus finally pulls away.

and later—of course—a photo is released.

maki at the hotel.

expression carefully neutral.

medal tucked away.

hair still a little messy.

and tucked carefully under his arm—

a slightly wrinkled handmade sign.

glitter letters catching the light every time he moves.

thirteen badly drawn puppy faces staring in every direction.

he holds it close like it’s something he’s not quite ready to let anyone else touch, adjusting it slightly whenever he shifts.

ᡣ𐭩ྀི₊ ⊹ smau masterlist ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 lowkey planning to turn this into a fun little series... X♡X♡, romi ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You're currently perched high on two boys shoulders. You're way too intoxicated to correctly guess their names, but you're pretty sure one is named Heeseung, and the other is named Niki.

The chants of your name echoed through the crowded frat house, the cheers growing louder as you revel in your unexpected beer pong victory. The night had taken a surprising turn, shifting you from a stressed-out college student to the reigning beer pong queen.

How did you, of all people, end up here, Y/N? Your friends would ask if they weren’t currently drunkenly making out with random people at this party. It’s really all their fault. You’ve always been comfortable with your tradition of hitting the liquor store every Friday after class, finding something good to eat, taking shots all night, and waking up to do it all over again on Saturday.

You flash back to earlier that evening, your friends practically begging you to come to this party. "Come on, Y/N! It'll be fun!" they had pleaded. "So many hot guys will be there. You can't miss it!" You had rolled your eyes, but their excitement was infectious. They had promised it would be the best night of the semester, and you finally caved, agreeing to go despite your reservations. Little did you know just how unexpected this night would become.

The frat house is a hazy blur, filled with smoke from blunts being passed around. The bass from the loud music vibrates through the floor, and the smell of spilled beer mixes with the scent of sweat and cheap cologne. Bodies are packed together, dancing and shouting, with red solo cups in hand. The dim lighting casts a soft glow over the chaos, and the atmosphere is a mix of wild energy and drunken laughter.

Amidst the sea of faces, the chanting intensified as you locked eyes with Jake, the chapter president, making his way through the crowd. He wore a sly grin, seemingly intrigued by the unexpected turn of events. You couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline as the crowd's energy shifted to this final showdown.

Jake’s reputation preceded him – the charismatic chapter president with a magnetic aura. But, truth be told, you didn't know much about him beyond that. The college grapevine buzzed with tales of his leadership, the fraternity's wild parties, and his supposed unbeatable streak in beer pong.

Yet, as he approached, you couldn't help but notice more than just his frat boy charm. The room seemed to slow down around him, the haze of smoke and loud music fading into the background. His easy smile drew you in, and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed was disarming, to say the least. His confident stride and relaxed demeanor made him stand out, and you feel an unexpected flutter in your chest. As he gets closer, you can see the warmth in his gaze, a hint of curiosity and amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“I would say hi to you properly, but I’m still up here,” you say shyly, feeling a flush of embarrassment and amusement.

Jake grins and turns to the guys. “Boys, let her down.”

Niki and Heeseung pretend to drop you, catching you just in time before you hit the ground. The room erupts in laughter, and you can’t help but join in, realizing with a sudden jolt that you’re thoroughly, drunkenly enjoying the moment.

Jake steps closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, Y/N, you dodging the smoke or just trying to stay on your feet?”

You blink, trying to focus on him as you laugh again, the room spinning just slightly. “I think it might be a bit of both,” you admit, your voice a bit wobbly. “But mama didn’t raise a punk. Let’s go”

“Turnt up, huh?” He chuckles.

“Well I came this far, didn’t I?” You slur. You don’t notice, but Jake silently eyes the boys behind you, warning them to look for signs of you tapping out and they nod in agreement.

“It’s a shame really,” he paces back and forth, ball in hand. “I’m typically a gentleman, but when it comes to my champion title, I won’t play nice.” He teases cunningly.

The match begins, and a spark ignites between you and Jake. The banter between shots are filled with laughter, teasing, and unexpected chemistry. The crowd, initially cheering for the underdog, are now witnessing a battle of wit and skill. It isn’t just about the game anymore; it is about the connection forged over a ping pong ball and a red Solo cup.

The final ball hovers over the table, and time seems to slow. With a triumphant toss, you sink the shot, sealing your victory. The cheers erupt once again, and you are engulfed in a sea of jubilant partygoers. Jake, a good sport, grins proudly.

Once again, you’re on someone’s shoulders. You’re trying so hard to keep your composure and sober up, and you think you’re doing a great job masking, but Jake’s eyes haven’t left you and he knows you’ve had way too much to drink.

“Dude, you’re definitely taking shots for that.” His brother, Jay, taunts grabbing a nearby bottle of Hennessy from the table coated with all types of liquor. “Hello? Earth to Jake?” He begins snapping in his friends face, but Jake is seemingly enchanted by you. Not seemingly, really. For certain.

“I will.” Jake utters to his friend, patting him on the shoulder before being pushed towards you like a tide. “She’s just really drunk. I can tell. Let me make sure she’s okay first.”

“When have you ever cared about—“ Jay attempts to argue, but Jake is gone. “Talk later…I guess.” He laughs.

You look up at him, a mix of curiosity and relief in your eyes to see him approaching you.

Jake reaches his hands out to help you off his younger members shoulder. His hands feel…nice intertwined with your own, but you don’t get to enjoy the moment long because he lets go as soon as your feet touch the floor.

“I realized I never asked your name.” He says with sympathy.

You drunkenly lean into his ear, barely being able to stand on your two feet standing still. “Y/N.” You giggle.

Your laugh is infectious, or maybe he’s drunk as well. All he knows is that he wants to keep saying things to make you laugh if it was going to sound as cute as that.

“Well, Y/N, I’m Jake. You don’t have to, but I was going to offer you my room because I think you’re a little drunker than you anticipated.

The room is still spinning slightly, but his offer feels like a welcome escape from the chaos. You nod, and he helps guide you through the crowd, leading you to a quieter corner where you can both catch your breath and enjoy a more intimate moment away from the party’s frenzy.

You know if your friends could see you right now they’d yank you away, condemning you for running off with a stranger—a frat boy at that who were notorious for being completely weirdos. But they weren’t here right now and the thought of being away from all the haze and loud music was something you’d do anything for right now.

“Is this a bad idea?” You question aloud, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as you say it. In the midst, you also trip and fall.

Jake drops to his knees beside you, his hands trying to pick you up the best he can in his equally drunken state. “Oh shit, are you okay Y/N?”

Your low eyes lift to meet his own, a child-like grin resting on your features. “You remembered my name.” You utter in adoration, like it was special that a man who found out your name only five minutes ago remembered it. “You have such a greattttt memory. You probably have great grades.”

Jake’s cheeks resemble tomatoes at this point, and he doesn’t know if it’s the liquor, how hot he is, or some weird spell you’ve put on him. “You have a pretty name. I probably won’t ever forget it.” A soft giggle erupts out of him. When had he ever been this cheesy?

From your drunken point of view, it feels like the journey to his room was of normal stature. In reality, the both of you slugged up the stairs—Jake leaning against the wall in a sad attempt to be the responsible one in this moment, and you crawling up the steps like a newborn.

Jake finally nudges the door to his room open, his shoulder braced against the frame as you stumble in behind him. The moment you step inside, the chaos of the frat party fades away, replaced by an unexpected coziness.

You glance around, blinking slowly as your eyes adjust to the softer lighting. His room is nothing like you imagined for a frat boy. A neatly made bed with a dark blue comforter rests against one wall, flanked by two mismatched nightstands. A few scattered books sit on one, and a lamp with a warm glow illuminates the other. Posters of indie bands and vintage movie covers are pinned to the walls, and there's even a small shelf with neatly organized vinyl records.

“Wow…” you mumble, swaying slightly as you take it all in. “You’re not like other frat boys, are you?”

Jake lets out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I don’t know what you were expecting. A pile of dirty laundry and some gym equipment?”

You nod seriously, pointing at him as if to say exactly that.

“Well, sorry to disappoint,” he says, moving quickly to steady you as you trip over the edge of his rug. His hands are warm on your arms, and for a second, the air between you feels heavier. But then he gently leads you toward the bed.

“Here, you can have this,” he offers, gesturing to his bed. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You shake your head, though your movements are sluggish. “No way. It’s your bed. You’re being too nice already.”

Jake smiles at you, his expression softening. “Y/N, you’re too drunk to argue with me right now. Just sit down before you fall again, okay?”

Reluctantly, you plop onto the edge of the bed, your hands smoothing over the comforter. “Fine. But I’m still going to feel bad about it.”

He grabs a spare blanket from the small closet and tosses it onto the couch across the room. “Don’t. I promise I’ve crashed on worse.”

Jake pulls up the chair from his desk and sits on it backward, his arms draped over the top of the backrest as he looks at you. His gaze is steady, almost too steady, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head.

“You’re really trying, huh?” he says, tilting his head as you focus hard—way too hard—on unscrewing the cap of the water bottle he handed you earlier.

“Trying what?” you ask, but your voice is sluggish, your words drawn out like taffy.

“To sober up,” he replies, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But it’s not working, is it?”

You huff, finally managing to twist the cap off and taking a big gulp. The cool water is refreshing, but it does nothing to stop the dizziness swirling in your head. “I don’t think it is,” you admit, your shoulders slumping. “And I hate it. I’m not usually this…messy.”

Jake leans forward, his forearms resting on the chair’s back. His dark eyes soften as he watches you, and there’s no judgment there, only something you can’t quite name. “You’re not messy,” he says simply. “You’re just human.”

The way he says it, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, makes your chest feel warm. You shift on the bed, sitting cross-legged now, and point a finger at him. “Okay, Mr. Human Expert. What about you? You seem way too composed for someone who just had to drag me up a staircase.”

Jake chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just good at keeping it together. Doesn’t mean I always feel that way.”

You squint at him, curiosity getting the better of you. “You’re mysterious, you know that? Like, in the brooding, leading-man kind of way.”

He snorts, clearly amused. “Brooding, huh? That’s a first.”

“I mean it,” you say, leaning forward a little too eagerly and almost toppling over. Jake reaches out instinctively to steady you, his hand brushing your arm, and it sends a small jolt through you. “See? Even the way you look at people. It’s like…you see right through them.”

For a moment, Jake doesn’t say anything. His hand lingers before he pulls back, retreating to his spot on the chair. Then he reaches over to his desk and grabs a small, red box.

“What’s that?” you ask, your eyes narrowing as he holds it up.

“We’re Not Really Strangers,” he says, flipping the box open and pulling out a stack of cards. “It’s a game. Kind of. You ask each other questions. Get to know someone.”

“Deep questions?” you ask, suddenly intrigued despite the haze in your brain.

“Very deep,” Jake says with a smirk, shuffling the cards like he’s done this before.

You shift on the bed, hugging your knees to your chest. “I’m in. But no crying questions, okay? I’m already emotionally unstable.”

Jake laughs quietly. “No promises. But I’ll go first.” He pulls a card from the deck and reads it out loud. “What’s the first thing you noticed about me?”

You blink at him, the question catching you off guard. “That’s easy. Your eyes,” you say without hesitation. “They’re so intense. Like you’re always thinking about something serious.”

Jake tilts his head, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Huh. Most people say the height or the hair. Your turn.”

You take the deck from him, fumbling slightly, and draw a card. “If you could have one superpower, what would it be?”

He leans back, his expression contemplative. “Probably the ability to read minds,” he says after a moment.

You gasp, pointing at him again. “That’s so Scorpio of you!”

Jake looks genuinely confused, his eyebrows furrowing. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” you say, drawing the word out dramatically, “you’re the kind of person who needs to know what’s going on under the surface. You hate not understanding people.”

Jake shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Alright, astrologer. What about you? What superpower would you want?”

“Teleportation,” you say instantly. “Imagine how easy life would be. No traffic, no waiting in lines, no awkward goodbyes.”

Jake chuckles. “That tracks. You seem like the type who doesn’t like sitting still.”

You grin, feeling oddly proud of the observation. “Your turn.”

He draws another card, his expression turning slightly more serious. “What’s something you’ve never told anyone?”

The room feels quieter suddenly, the question hanging in the air between you. You bite your lip, glancing at him. “That’s heavy.”

Jake shrugs, but his gaze never wavers. “It doesn’t have to be. Just something.”

You think for a moment, your head resting on your knees. “I’ve never told anyone that…sometimes I feel like I have to be the fun one. Like, if I’m not, people won’t want me around.”

Jake’s face softens, and he leans forward, his voice low and steady. “That’s not true, Y/N. People want you around because you’re you.”

Your cheeks flush, and for once, you don’t argue. “Your turn,” you say quickly, handing him the deck before you can get too caught up in the way he’s looking at you.

Jake takes a card, glancing at it before meeting your eyes. “What’s something you’re afraid of?”

His tone is light, but his gaze holds you in place, and for a moment, you think he might already know your answer.

Jake studies you with quiet intensity, the kind that makes your heart beat faster despite the fact that you’re sitting still. It’s unnerving, the way he’s so present, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

You laugh nervously, breaking the silence. “You’re really good at this whole ‘deep questions’ thing, huh?”

He shrugs, his lips curving into a small smile. “I just think it’s better than small talk. You can learn a lot about someone in five minutes if you ask the right questions.”

“And what have you learned about me so far?” you challenge, your voice teasing, though your hands fidget with the hem of your shirt.

Jake leans back slightly, resting his chin on his hand as if he’s giving your question serious thought. “You’re honest, even when it makes you vulnerable. You notice the little things—like someone’s eyes—and that says a lot about how you see the world.”

Your breath catches in your throat. For a guy you just met, Jake’s words feel heavy, like they’re meant to be remembered.

“And you’re really bad at accepting compliments,” he adds, smirking when you roll your eyes.

“Okay, Mr. Mind Reader,” you say, grabbing the deck of cards. “My turn.”

You draw a card and squint at the text, the letters swimming slightly in your still-tipsy vision. “What’s the last thing you lied about?”

Jake doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he looks down at the floor, running a hand through his hair. “That I didn’t mind helping my roommates clean up after their last party,” he says finally, his tone light.

You narrow your eyes at him, sensing there’s more he isn’t saying. “Lame answer. I bet you’ve got something better.”

Jake laughs softly, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. You want the truth?”

You nod, leaning forward slightly, your curiosity piqued.

“I lied when I said I wasn’t nervous about meeting new people tonight,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I usually stick to my circle. But then I saw you, and…it didn’t feel as hard.”

Your heart stumbles over itself. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” His eyes meet yours, and the air between you shifts, charged with something you can’t quite name. “You walked into that party like you belonged there, like you weren’t afraid of anything. It made me want to stick around.”

You stare at him, the warmth in his gaze so sincere it feels like it might burn you if you look too long. “Well,” you say, your voice unsteady, “you made it look easy.”

He smiles, but there’s a hint of something deeper behind it, something you want to unravel. “Your turn,” he says, nodding at the cards still clutched in your hands.

You draw another one, your fingers trembling slightly. “What’s something you want people to know about you, but you’re afraid to tell them?”

Jake leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and the movement pulls you closer, like gravity. “That I don’t have it all figured out,” he says after a moment. “People assume I do, because I stay calm or don’t say much. But most of the time, I’m just as unsure as everyone else.”

The honesty in his words settles over you, heavy but comforting. You wonder how someone can feel like a stranger and a friend all at once.

“You seem pretty sure of yourself to me,” you say softly, watching the way his lips twitch into a faint smile.

“Maybe I’m just good at pretending,” he murmurs.

“Or maybe,” you counter, your voice just above a whisper, “you’re exactly who you’re supposed to be, and you don’t need to pretend.”

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence feels full, not awkward, like the two of you are sharing something that doesn’t need words.

“Your turn,” he says finally, his voice barely breaking the quiet.

But you don’t pick up another card. Instead, you meet his gaze, your chest tight with a mix of nerves and something else—admiration, maybe. “What are you thinking right now?” you ask, your voice trembling just slightly.

Jake doesn’t look away. “That I’m glad you ended up here.”

You swallow hard, your pulse racing as his words sink in. The way he says it, low and steady, makes it sound like a confession.

“I guess I am too,” you admit, your voice softer now.

Jake watches you with a mix of amusement and something he can’t quite put a name to. Your head tilts to one side, your eyes half-lidded as you fight the inevitable pull of sleep. You’re a little drunk, sure, but there’s something so endearing about the way you’re trying so hard to keep up with him.

“You’re losing the battle,” he teases gently, the corner of his mouth lifting.

You groan softly, a sound more pout than protest. “I’m not losing. Just… taking a break.”

Your words tumble out in a sleepy slur, and Jake can’t help but smile. He shifts on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “You don’t have to try so hard, you know.”

Your eyes flutter open, catching him mid-stare. “Why’re you looking at me like that?” you mumble, your voice thick with sleep.

Jake straightens a little, caught off guard. “Like what?”

“Like…” You blink, struggling to focus on him. “Like you’re trying to figure me out.”

He laughs softly, his voice low. “Maybe I am.”

The room feels quieter somehow, like the world outside his door has disappeared entirely. You shift against the pillows, blinking slowly at him. “Do you watch Netflix?”

Jake raises a brow, thrown by the sudden question. “Yeah, I watch Netflix.”

You nod as if that settles everything and slide back against the wall, pulling the comforter with you. With a small, shy smile, you lift up the corner, inviting him in.

Jake hesitates, his breath catching for just a second. But then he grabs his laptop from the desk and places it carefully at the foot of the bed before climbing in beside you. The mattress dips slightly under his weight, and your shoulder brushes against his as you lean into him, your head finding its place against his shoulder like it’s where you were always meant to be.

“What do you wanna watch?” he asks softly, opening Netflix and scrolling through the options.

“Something funny,” you murmur, your words fading as you tuck yourself closer to him.

Jake picks a random sitcom and presses play, but it doesn’t take long for him to realize you’ve already drifted off. Your breathing is slow and steady, your lashes casting soft shadows on your cheeks.

For a moment, he just sits there, the glow of the screen washing over both of you. Your head is heavy against his shoulder, and your hand, half-curled, rests near his arm. You look peaceful, like you’ve never known a bad dream.

Jake adjusts the blanket over you, careful not to wake you, and leans his head back against the wall. He tries to close his eyes, but every time sleep creeps in, he snaps awake, his gaze darting to you as if to make sure you’re still okay.

You mumble something in your sleep, a sound so soft he can barely catch it, but it makes his heart ache in the strangest way.

“You’re kind of amazing,” he whispers, so quietly it’s almost a thought instead of words.

Jake hasn’t stopped watching you, not really. It’s been about thirty minutes, but every time his eyelids start to droop, he snaps them open again. His mind won’t quiet. There’s so much he doesn’t know about you, and that’s what’s driving him crazy.

Do you have a boyfriend? He swallows at the thought, glancing down at you. Wouldn’t someone have come looking for you by now? Did you come here with someone? Are they pacing around that crowded house, freaking out about where you went?

But you smell… amazing. It’s subtle, like citrus and something warm he can’t quite place, and it’s messing with him. How does someone he met barely an hour ago feel like someone he’s already known forever? Like the weight of your head on his shoulder belongs there, like this moment is supposed to be happening. It freaks him out.

Then your phone buzzes, the shrill ringtone cutting through the quiet. You stir, your brows furrowing, and Jake is immediately on alert.

You fumble for the phone, your movements uncoordinated as you squint at the screen. “Hello?” you croak, putting it on speaker before your voice can betray you further.

“Y/N! Oh my God, where are you? Are you okay?” your friend’s voice crackles through the speaker, sharp with concern but also tinged with curiosity.

Your head lolls to the side, and Jake feels your shoulder bump against his arm. “I’m okay,” you say, your voice raspy and soft. “I promise.”

“Well, I’m more than okay,” your friend continues, her voice dropping into a dreamy tone. “I just met this guy, Jay. Y/N, I’m pretty sure I’ve found the love of my life.”

Jake snorts before he can stop himself, and you do the same, a tired, knowing laugh bubbling up as you cover your mouth. You both know your friends well enough to see where this is going.

Your friend, oblivious, keeps going. “Where are you, though? Did you go back to your dorm, or—wait—did you hook up with some frat guy? Tell me everything.”

You glance at Jake, and his face is caught between a grin and a grimace, his hand already rubbing the back of his neck like he’s embarrassed for being part of this conversation.

“I’m safe,” you say simply, and Jake’s chest tightens at your words. Safe. It’s a small thing, but it feels big coming from you.

The call ends shortly after, and the room settles back into its quiet rhythm. You let out a breath, turning onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. “You can kick me out if you want,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just grateful you were kind enough to make sure I was okay.”

Jake looks over at you, his head tilting. He doesn’t know how to respond right away, his thoughts getting tangled. Are you used to this—people not showing up for you? Are you used to not being made to feel safe? The questions build in his chest, but he pushes them aside, telling himself it’s not the time.

Instead, what he says is something that surprises even himself.

“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” he admits, his voice low, his words slurred just slightly from the alcohol.

You turn your head, your gaze meeting his in the dim light. There’s something vulnerable in his expression, something that makes your heart skip despite the haze in your mind.

You don’t say anything, but you don’t have to. The silence between you feels warmer now, softer. And when Jake shifts closer, pulling the blanket up over both of you, it feels natural, like the easiest thing in the world.

The two of you settle in, the sound of your breathing filling the room. Jake stays awake a little longer, his eyes on you, his heart pounding softly in his chest. There’s still so much he doesn’t know about you, but somehow, he knows this moment is something he’ll carry with him.

For now, though, he lets himself rest, even if it’s just for a little while.

The morning light filters through the blinds, soft and golden, but it feels like needles against your closed eyelids. You groan, rolling onto your back, and that’s when you remember—Jake.

He’s still next to you, sitting upright against the headboard, his arms crossed over his chest. His head dips forward slightly like he tried to stay awake but lost the battle somewhere in the early hours of the morning.

You stir, and his eyes flutter open. For a moment, he looks disoriented, and then he sees you. And just like that, he’s wide awake.

“Morning,” he says, his voice rough but kind.

“Morning,” you croak back, your voice embarrassingly raspy. You clear your throat and sit up slowly, pressing your fingertips to your temples. “Did I… snore?”

Jake grins, leaning forward slightly. “You did. Just a little.”

Your face heats up, and you try to play it off with a laugh. “Great. That’s just perfect. Did I do anything else? Like, anything crazy?”

Jake shakes his head, his expression soft and a little sleepy. “No. You were fine. Just… really cute. Like, in the way you couldn’t keep your eyes open but kept trying to ask me questions anyway.”

You fidget with the edge of the blanket, glancing at him through your lashes. “And… we didn’t…?”

He sits up straighter, his tone steady. “No. Nothing happened. I wouldn’t—” He pauses, his gaze locking on yours. “I would never. We just talked, and then you fell asleep. That’s it.”

Something about the certainty in his voice makes your chest ache. You don’t know why you believe him, but you do.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, and you grab it, wincing when you see your friend’s name lighting up the screen. “I’m downstairs when you’re ready,” she says, her voice far too chipper for this time of morning.

You hang up and glance at Jake, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Guess that’s my ride.”

For a second, neither of you moves. It’s like the moment is hanging there, suspended between you, and you don’t want to let it go.

Before you lose your nerve, you reach for a pen on his desk and scrawl your number on a scrap of paper. Folding it neatly, you hand it to him.

“Thanks for everything,” you say, leaning down to kiss his cheek. His skin is warm, and when you pull back, you swear you see the faintest hint of pink on his face.

Jake watches as you grab your things, his heart pounding like it’s trying to tell him something important. He wants to say something, anything, to make you stay just a little longer, but the words won’t come.

And then you’re gone.

Hours later, you’re still thinking about him. About his room that smelled faintly of cedar and soap. About the way he stayed awake for you, even when he didn’t have to. About the way he smiled at you like he already knew all your best parts.

You keep trying to brush it off. It was one night. You were both drunk. It doesn’t mean anything.

But then your phone vibrates, and your heart stumbles when you see his name.

Hey, it's Jake. I hope you made it home safe. I just wanted to say thank you for everything last night. I really hope I get to see you again soon.

You read it once. Then again. And before you know it, you’re smiling, your face warm, your heart lighter than it’s felt in a long time.

you never understood “girlfriend privileges” until you started dating a barely chalant emo boy a few months ago. of course, there were things you noticed without anyone pointing it out to you-- you weren’t entirely unaware.

girlfriend privilege #1: you knew his cold exterior crumbled when he so much as looked at you, often sporting a soft lovesick smile ever since you guys started talking.

girlfriend privilege #2: you knew he only allowed you in his studio because you’re the only person who doesn’t piss him off while he works and because you, in his words, are his muse.

girlfriend privilege #3: he lets you smush his face or smother him in kisses when you feel the urge. you quite literally watched leehan attempt to do the same thing, but your boyfriend slapped his hand away before he could even try

you really thought you were aware of everything that taesan let’s slide for you just because you’re his girlfriend. that was until this morning.

you slept over at his dorm like usual when your schedules aligned slightly for the week. the great thing about working at the same company meant similar schedules and dorm buildings in the same area, so it wasn’t uncommon for you two to be sleeping over when it was convenient. plus, waking up to his face buried in your neck and his arm wrapped tightly around your waist was always something you looked forward to.

you inhaled sharply as you carefully turned in his hold, grazing over his sleeping face. girlfriend privilege #4: he only really let you be this close to him while he slept. and somehow, like every other day, he smiles in his sleep and murmurs something along the lines of “like what you see?” it’s like clockwork for you now, but you two never get tired of it. you both are impossibly close and whisper to each other when you talk as you simply bathe in the quiet that you know is going to be short-lived. and after the adjustment of waking up is really done, he pecks your lips and pulls you out of bed with him to start the day.

privilege #5: he lets you doll him up however you want. he very simply lets you put the pink piggy headband on him that you bought just for when you’re at his place. he would usually hate it, but it’s you and the big huge smile that fuels him through the day that’s doing it, so how could he say no to that? when he’s brushing his teeth with his decorated headband on, he’s also pulling you into his chest and hugging you while you wake up.

he turned your chin to face him after you finished washing up and kissed you sweetly, muttering something about how he would save the extra skincare you got him for after his morning shower. and don’t worry, he made sure to tell you to help yourself in the kitchen and make yourself at home when you leave his bathroom (like he always does).

before you left for the company, you wanted to throw something comfortable on and eat breakfast while you’re here, so you made your way to taesan’s closet and threw on the first hoodie you saw, along with your own wide leg sweatpants you left over before. usually, he would put his clothes on you himself when you slept over, so you really didn’t think anyone would mind.

when you stepped into the common space, you greeted jaehyun and riwoo, who were both standing at separate ends of the kitchen doing their own respective things. they had grown accustomed to seeing their bandmates girlfriend come over, so seeing you was nothing new.

“hey y/n- oh my…”

jaehyun looked up at you from his place at the sink, but the words died on his tongue when he looked at what you were wearing. your eyebrow perked up in question at his now nervous face.

“um, hi jaehyun… why do you look like someone’s holding you at gunpoint?” riwoo snorted at the comment until he turned his head to look at you too. now he’s stuttering and repeatedly looking between you and jaehyun.

“because you might be held at gunpoint y/n-- is that dongmin’s hoodie?” you look down at the hoodie that’s practically swallowing you whole. “yeah? what? is it cursed or something?”

“taesan NEVER-- and i really mean never-- lets anyone borrow his clothes. like he seriously gets mad at us if we do.” your eyebrows raise in surprise now, feeling slight concern. was pulling the hoodie out of his closet yourself an invasion of his privacy? he never told you, nor had he ever given you the impression, that he hated when other people wore his clothes. you didn’t want to be the kind of girlfriend that oversteps boundaries or makes him uncomfortable.

“did he give you that hoodie himself?” riwoo asks, placing a bagel in front of where you sat at the island.

“no, i just pulled it out of his closet.” riwoo and jaehyun simultaneously hiss, sparking a panicked “what??? wait guys, am i in trouble??”

“i don’t know y/n… maybe you should change before he gets out of the shower. for your sake.” you immediately push your chair out and turn around to make your way to your boyfriends room. just to your luck, taesan turns the corner of the entrance to the kitchen and collides with your smaller frame. he's quick to pull you into him, however, making sure your okay after that abrupt collision. you look back at riwoo and jaehyun in panic as you watch them immediately turn back to what they were doing before you got there, riwoo even whistling to avoid the potential conflict that might arise from you wearing taesan’s prized hoodie. you turn back to your boyfriend’s concerned face and sigh.

“why didn’t you tell me you don’t like when i wear your clothes?”

“i love when you wear my clothes.”

his response was almost instantaneous, as if that was the dumbest question you could’ve asked him. suddenly the boys in the kitchen who were once “preoccupied” were now yelling out in protest. taesan, who still confused at what caused you to even ask such question, is more peeved at the fact that he can’t have a peaceful morning with his girlfriend. he just sighed and wordlessly turned you around, pulling you flush against his front while draping an arm over your chest and shoulders.

“you yell at us when we wear your clothes??!”

“yeah, cause i’m not in love with you guys.” you look up at him in shock while jaehyun is practically yelling at the “unfairness of it all.” taesan simply looked down at you and twitched his head to acknowledge your gaze.

“go sit back down and eat-- and don’t listen to whatever these dumbasses tell you.” he kissed the top of your head and guided you to where you were sitting before.

“i’m sick of these girlfriend privileges, han dongmin. if i give you a big kiss, would you let me wear your clothes?” you and riwoo laugh as taesan leans over the counter and knocks jaehyun upside the head, causing even more protests from the boy. settling down, other than the quiet grumbling from jaehyun, you all ate breakfast together at the counter.

you turned to look at your boyfriend, who was mindlessly chewing on his bagel with his phone in his other hand. grabbing his face to give him a big kiss on his cheek, he scrunched his face like he always does, smiling into his bagel as you let go.

girlfriend privilege #6: taesan lets you do anything you want-- even let’s you wear his clothes, because in his words, he’s only in love with you.

he’ll gently grab at your wrist but never make an actual attempt to move you away. his breathing stutters when your lips linger more than usual, feeling the familiar pressure of a mark on the column of his throat. and he’s about to tell you off before you go right back to peppering him with kisses and he forgets all about it.

however, when he sees the aftermath of your “kiss” in the mirror, it all comes flooding back to him with an embarrassing blush on his ears. the softer kisses you pressed to his lovebite did nothing to hide it. sungho will say he’ll cover it with makeup when he goes out, but never actually does because he’s almost.. proud of it.

୨ riwoo ⋮ cheek + hands ୧

a simple, traditional kiss on the cheek is the way to go for riwoo. it never gets old and still causes his heart to race with you lean in for a peck. he finds it to be perfect because of how casual it is; a quick one while your perusing the town, more playful when you’re in the comfort of your shared apartment. he even loves posing for a selfie with your lips on his blushed cheek.

your expression when you cup his face in your hands is one he can never forget, especially when followed by a flurry of exaggerated ‘mwah’s all over his face. each moment of contact sends a surge of dopamine to his brain that tells him he needs more. he’ll occasionally lean in, almost expectantly, during random times of the day just to experience your love.

his chest feels like it’ll explode when you take the time to kiss the cute beauty mark that’s settled just under his eye. it’s such a small gesture but knowing you love every single inch of him only makes his love for you grow deeper. he’d tattoo the faint whisper of a kiss mark left by your lip tint on that spot if he could.. so he opts for just asking you to do it yourself everyday.

his heart also melts when you lace your fingers with his and bring the back of his hand to your lips. you could peck his wrist in the middle of a conversation, for no real reason in particular, and he’ll fall silent. his hands are just so pretty that you can’t keep yourself away !!

the feeling of your palms against each other is grounding for the both of you, so he insists on it even when you’re just at home. and so he’ll catch you absentmindedly brushing your lips against the tips of his fingers when you’re cuddled up. he finds it to be such a cute and quiet act of intimacy that still makes him a little nervous but finds it so so precious.

it’s especially perfect for when it’s cold out and you want to keep your lover warm. he’ll feel his skin still tingling even minutes after the contact and squeeze your hand even tighter. he’ll also press a quick kiss back to yours if he feels so inclined, which he normally does. it creates a much lovelier sense of warmth than what any pair of mittens could attempt to bring, he thinks.

୨ jaehyun ⋮ cheek + lips ୧

jaehyun will claim he doesn’t have a favorite place to be kissed because absolutely any form of physical affection you give him has him all giddy and happy. but you’ve noticed he gets extra doe-eyed when you lean in closer to his face. whether it’s the proximity, the intimacy, or both, jaehyun’s face gets all warm and red when you press a kiss to his cheek. he thinks your lips are so soft and like a gift from heaven that graces his skin. and no, he’s not exaggerating.

he’s even worse when you have lipstick or gloss on. something about seeing the specific shade you use against his skin is addictive to him. he’ll ask for more and more while he looks at you, pupils dilated and eyes glossed over, until his face is littered with pinky-red kiss marks and he is exactly where he wants to be.

sometimes, he’ll be cheesy and kiss your cheek back, pressing your faces together just to leave a mark identical to his on your skin. “even our kisses are kissing,” he’ll grin, holding you tight even after saying the corniest line ever. and yes, he does ask to take a picture for his wallpaper each and every time.

his lips are always special, too. he’ll pucker up and send you flying kisses from across the room in a wordless attempt to ask for a kiss, which almost always ends up with him just walking over and kissing you himself.

but when you make the first move and close the gap yourself, jaehyun is smiling and giggling into the kiss while pulling you closer. he has the most lovestruck look on his face that melts into a puppy-like smile. he’ll hold you in place for a while, not wanting to separate and end the moment. but when you finally do, the way his eyes sparkle and you see how kiss-bitten his lips are only has you wanting to kiss him again, which causes the cycle to repeat and jaehyun to ascend to cloud nine.

on the days that end a little rough for him, a foolproof way to coax him out of a bad mood is a loving kiss to his lips. you can’t stand to see his saddened pout so you take him into your hands in hopes of fixing the problem. he’ll always happily accept the invitation and end up losing himself in you, forgetting about what made his day so bad anyway. because how could any day end horribly if this is what he gets in return.

୨ taesan ⋮ lips + neck ୧

taesan only claims to love a kiss on the lips because of the journey it takes to get there. he watches with an all too smug grin, using his height to his advantage as you try to reach his face. he thinks you look cute like that with a slight pout and eager eyes. but he’s not evil, he’ll soon cradle your face in his palms after having his fun and close the distance, still laughing into the kiss.

when you do catch him off guard, however, he’ll hum into your mouth as if satisfied with how you’ve taken after his teasing nature. honestly, he’s grown addicted since the very first time you shared a kiss, now looking for any excuse to share one. a quick peck as you pass him in the hallway will leave him stunned for a second before turning around for a ‘real’ kiss.

he’s noticed that you’ve grown bolder and more confident when leaning close to his face and he loves it. because now he looks forward to how your fingers now tangle in the overgrown hair on the nape of his neck, gently pulling him closer. the flavor of your lip balm will linger on his lips and drive him crazy throughout the day as he waits to come home to you and get another taste.

but going in for his neck really gets him going. something about you kissing him first, especially in a spot like that, just makes his heart race. he was like a kid on christmas the day you kissed his neck for the first time and he’s continued to chase that high ever since. he’ll tilt his head up to give you better access because he wants you to leave a mark. he won’t ask for it but there’s a noticeable pout on his face when you leave him without one (that you also have to kiss away)

taesan tries to convince you that his collarbones are at “just the right height for you,” and even if it sounds like an insult, he’s completely serious. he’ll start wearing looser shirts that open around his chest like a bird trying to tempt his mate. he means for it to be seductive but it comes out as a cat trying to catch your attention. you give in anyway and he thinks his plan so clever, showing that bread-like smile every time.

he’s grown a liking to when it’s later in the night and you’re giggling from drowsiness as you curl into him. the feeling of your nose nudging against his jaw and how he can feel you smiling against his skin is what makes the moment special, because you’re so you when you’re happy. he of course returns the favor, littering you in kisses while keeping you in his arms, filling the room with your overlapping fits of laughter.

୨ leehan ⋮ nose + forehead ୧

because of how often he leans in close, leehan loves when your faces nudge together and you plant a kiss on his nose, eyes sparkling with admiration. the act is so cute that it’s always followed by a low giggle that’s like music to your ears and your boyfriend wrapping you in his arms to keep all to himself.

it’s such an adorable feature on his face that you can’t help but pay attention to it. especially when he gives you that warm, crescent-eyed smile where his nose scrunches into the most kissable thing ever. the times you get him while he isn’t paying attention, he’ll shyly turn away, the tips of his ears flushed red as he plots a way to ‘get you back’ with a kiss attack of his own.

although, it happens to be most effective when he’s in a sulky mood. he’ll try to maintain his scowl while acting like nothing is wrong, but he can’t turn you down when your lips are so soft against the tip of his nose and your smile is so sweet and determined to make him happy again. he’ll still ask for another before indulging in you, just for good measure :3

he also savors each and every smooch on the forehead you give him. despite his height, he’ll occasionally crane his neck downwards with a knowing smile, level to your face to lure you to kiss him. it’s best for when he’s feeling just a little needy for your attention and the small act of praise is enough to keep him going for the day.

you have perfect access when he lays on you. his arms wrapped around your middle and face tucked into your chest like all he needs to breathe is you. careful fingers push his bangs out of his face and give way to the best place for a kiss just above his eyebrow. he’ll hum in amusement and peek out from the crook of your neck in a silent plea for some more loving, to which you graciously give into each and every time.

and even though he doesn’t like when others mess with his hair, it feels different when it’s you. in fact, he’ll encourage you to do so by not-so-secretly guiding your hand to his head. you know it’s because he likes when you fix it up for him, following up with a kiss above the bridge of his nose, and he knows you know this. so it’s become a mutual exchange where you, in turn, get to act as your very pretty lovers own personal hair stylist while he stares at you like you hung the moon and stars. (plus, you both get kisses at the end, so win-win!)

୨ woonhak ⋮ lips + shoulder ୧

woonhak swears he’s all smooth and suave when it comes to being romantic. he’ll lean on a doorframe in an attempt to flirt and serenade you in the car during a spontaneous late night drive. but a sweet kiss will shut him up pretty quick.

you’re both so used to him rambling all the time that cutting him off with a kiss has become normal, and almost expected..(sometimes he’ll talk nonstop just to get you to kiss him.) and yet, he’s still caught off guard by it almost every time, a quiet gasp escaping his lips before they connect with yours. but he can never resist you and melts into it every time, letting out a low whine while his hands find yours. you find his nervous blush so comically adorable, it only makes you lean in again!!

plus, he lovess when you kiss the corners of his mouth. he’d never admit it but that specific little moment gets his heart racing and makes him want to pull you in closer. whether it’s to kiss a pout away or when you claim he has a crumb there, woonhak thinks you’re just too cute when your lips land on the edge of his. so he’ll bridge the gap before giving it a second thought and lean into your touch on the back of his neck.

and on the days where days in the studio drag into later nights, a kiss to his shoulder can easily calm his mind. you’re perfect company when he’s working and somehow know exactly when he needs a little break. he loves that you’re just the perfect height to rest his chin on, exchanging little acts of love throughout the day with one to your forehead and one to his shoulder.

he appreciates the calmer act of affection as opposed to everything else in his life moving so quickly. it’s gentle, the way you lay your head against the broadness of his frame and tilt your chin for your lips to make contact. soft yet solid kisses pressed against his shoulder blade, followed by you leaning further into his side. it’s sweet, quietly intimate, and just what he needs when everything else gets a bit too busy.

you will admit, however, that you can’t hold back on the days he wears a tank top. woonhak swears he doesn’t do it on purpose but loves the extra attention he gets from you. he’ll jump at the occasional bite or mark you decide to leave on the exposed skin and whine that he should give you one back, “just to be fair,” to which he’ll act upon anyway and might get a little carried away..

like what you see? check my masterlist for more!! feel free to join my taglist if you’d like to be notified!! ↳ @xionvlog , @ivehan , @hraethy , @angelsemble

it's a warm evening and you come out into the living room fanning yourself, dropping onto the couch next to him.

"it is so hot in here."

he hums without looking up from his phone."yeah it got warm fast."

a beat. then he glances over at you and goes still for a second.

"wait — is that my shirt?"

"...maybe."

"i've been looking for that for like a week."

"i know, it's really comfortable."

he looks at you. then at the shirt. then back at you. he doesn't look annoyed—if anything there's something amused in his expression that he's not doing much to hide.

"so you just had it this whole time."

"i mean—yeah."

"and you didn't say anything."

"you didn't ask."

he stares at you for a moment and then lets out a breath that's almost a laugh. he reaches over and tugs the fabric lightly, just once, like he's confirming it's real. then he puts his phone down, shifts closer, and leans back pulling you into his side with an arm around your shoulder.

"you could've just asked for it."

"would you have said yes?"

"obviously."

"then it worked out."

he shakes his head but he's smiling and you both know it. he presses a kiss to your temple and goes back to his phone, arm still around you. he doesn't ask for the shirt back. by the end of the week he's actively looking for another one to give you.

‎‎ ‎ ‎‎• ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎PARK JONGSEONG

you'd grabbed his seattle mariners jersey off the back of his chair because it was close and comfortable and honestly you just felt like wearing it. you didn't think much of it. jay notices the second he walks into the room.

he stops in the doorway for just a second—that familiar flicker across his face that he pulls back quickly—and then he walks in like normal.

"is that my jersey?"

"yeah. hope that's okay."

"it's huge on you."

"i know, that's why i took it."

he comes over and without really asking he reaches out and adjusts it—straightening it across your shoulders, fixing where the collar had gone crooked. his hands are unhurried about it, moving like he just wants a reason to be close. he steps back and looks at you and something in his expression settles.

"cute," he says, mostly to himself, quiet enough that it clearly wasn't meant for you. you look up at him and he clears his throat.

"i said it's—"

"i heard you."

he gives you a look. you smile at him. he sits down beside you and bumps your knee with his.

"don't make it weird."

"i'm not making it weird, you said it."

"i was talking to myself."

"about me."

jay looks at the ceiling briefly, like he's asking for patience, and then looks back at you. he leans over and kisses your cheek once, firm and deliberate, and then leans back like that closed the discussion.

"keep the jersey."

you smile. he pretends not to see it. he's smiling too though, just turned slightly away so you'll have a harder time catching it, but you catch it.

‎‎ ‎ ‎‎• ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎SIM JAEYUN

it's late. jake had just gotten out of the shower, hair still a little damp, and when he comes into the bedroom you're already in bed, phone propped on your chest, settled in for the night. he almost doesn't notice right away—he's toweling off his hair—and then he looks over properly and stops.

you're in one of his sweatshirts. an old grey one, soft from being washed too many times, big enough on you that one shoulder is slipping off, you look comfortable.

he comes over and climbs into bed next to you, settling in on his side, facing you.

"is that mine?"

you glance down at it like you'd almost forgotten.

"yeah, it was on the dresser."

"you could've asked."

"you would've said yes."

"of course i would've,"

he says, like that's not even a question. he reaches over and pulls the shoulder of the sweatshirt back up into place and then leaves his hand there, warm against your shoulder. he's looking at you with that expression he gets sometimes, the one that's too soft to be casual.

"do you want a hoodie too? i have that black one you like."

"jake."

"i'm serious. you can have it."

"i don't need more of your clothes."

"you're literally wearing my sweatshirt right now."

"okay fine, maybe the black one."

he smiles and leans in to kiss you, slow and warm. when he pulls back he tucks himself closer, arm pulling you in, and drops his chin to the top of your head.

"i'll get it for you tomorrow."

"jake you don't have to—"

"i want to."

and that's that. he means it completely and you both know it. you put your phone down. he stays exactly where he is. the black hoodie is folded on your side of the bed by morning.

‎‎ ‎ ‎‎• ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon had a good eye. he noticed things quietly, filed them away without making a scene out of it.

so when you walked into the kitchen in his old black crewneck—the sleeves drowning your hands, hem falling way too low—he clocked it instantly from across the counter.

he didn’t say anything at first. just watched you open the fridge like it might magically have answers.

"is that mine?"

"yeah."

"did you ask?"

"no."

he leans back against the counter, arms folding slow.

"so you just took it."

"you have like ten of the same crewneck."

"that’s not the point."

"what is the point?"

he pushes off the counter and walks over, stopping right in front of you. his fingers catch the sleeve, folding it back once—clean, neat—so your hand shows again. then the other. he steps back, eyes dragging over you like he’s assessing something.

"you look like you’re drowning in it," he mutters, a quiet huff of amusement under his breath. then, softer, almost like an afterthought, "cute, though."

you blink. “and yet you fixed the sleeves.”

"had to make it wearable," he says, but his gaze lingers a second too long. "looks better on you than it does on me anyway."

you squint at him. "you’re literally wearing the same one in gray right now."

"yeah," he shrugs. "and you still look better."

before you can say anything, he hooks a finger into the collar of the crewneck and tugs you forward, pressing a slow, unhurried kiss to your forehead.

"keep it," he murmurs, letting go like it was nothing.

"just like that?"

"just like that. you already took it anyway."

"you’re so gracious."

"i know."

you toss a dish towel at him and he catches it without looking, already turning back to the counter.

the crewneck stays yours.

‎‎ ‎ ‎‎• ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎KIM SUNOO

it had been sitting on your chair for two days and you'd been eyeing it the whole time. sunoo's puffer vest—the cream one he wore everywhere last fall. it was just there. doing nothing. and it was cold this morning.

so you put it on.

you were on the couch with your coffee when sunoo came in from the other room, still half-asleep, and stopped when he saw you. his eyes went to the vest and stayed there for a second.

"is that my vest?"

"it was on the chair."

"that doesn't answer my question."

"yes, it's your vest."

he comes over and sits on the couch next to you, tucking his feet under him, and looks at you properly. the corner of his mouth pulls up a little.

"it looks good on you."

"i know."

"you're so confident about wearing other people's things."

"just your things."

he laughs at that—quiet and real—and leans over to press a kiss to your cheek. then he steals a sip of your coffee like that's a fair trade, settles back, and pulls your legs across his lap without asking.

"you can wear it today."

"just today?"

"i'll think about tomorrow tomorrow."

you look at him. he's already looking at you, that easy expression he gets when everything is comfortable and good and exactly where he wants it. he squeezes your ankle once and reaches for the remote.

you wear the vest the next day too. he doesn't say a word about it.

‎‎ ‎ ‎‎• ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎YANG JUNGWON

you'd grabbed his jacket on the way out because you forgot yours and it was the first thing you reached for. it was a little big, sleeves slightly too long, but it was warm and it smelled like him and that was good enough.

jungwon was already by the door when you came out. he looked up from his phone—and then looked again, a second slower this time.

"is that my jacket?"

he was smiling before you even answered, this bright easy smile that he wasn't doing anything to contain.

"yeah, i forgot mine. sorry—i can go change—"

"no, no. keep it on."

he comes over and fixes the hood at the back where it had bunched up, smoothing it down neatly, and then he steps back and looks at you with that same smile, a little softer now.

"you can have it."

"won it's your jacket—"

"i know, keep it."

you open your mouth to argue and he takes your hand and heads for the door like that settled it completely. you let him.

the whole afternoon he's different—a little closer than usual, hand finding yours easily, showing you things in shop windows. at the ice cream place he orders for you without asking because he already knows, and when you come out he takes your free hand again and bumps his shoulder into yours.

"you look good in it by the way."

"you already told me to keep it, you didn't have to say that."

"i know, i wanted to though."

easy as that. the whole walk back he keeps stealing glances at you like he can't quite help it. he never complains or mentions anything whenever you wear it again—just smiles every time you wear it, like it's his favorite thing you own.

‎‎ ‎ ‎‎• ‎‎ ‎ ‎‎NISHIMURA RIKI

you'd been staying at niki's for the weekend and you were bored, which meant you were in his closet. not for any particular reason—you just liked looking at his stuff. and then you found it, pushed to the back: a denim tears set. hoodie and shorts, the real ones, soft and worn in and clearly loved.

you pull it out and hold it up.

"can i wear this?"

niki is sprawled on his bed, not looking up from his phone.

"maybe."

you both knew what that meant.

"try it on first," he says. so you do.

it's huge on you—the hoodie hanging mid-thigh, the shorts needing to be rolled twice. while you're in there you spot his cap on the shelf and put it on. then his sunglasses. then, for reasons that feel very logical in the moment, you step into his sneakers.

you walk out of the closet.

"guess who i am."

niki looks up from his phone. he stares at you—hat low, sunglasses slightly crooked, swimming in his own clothes—and then he laughs. he drops his phone on the mattress.

"what are you doing."

"i'm you. this is you. do i have it right?"

"you look insane."

"that tracks."

he's still laughing a little, shaking his head, and he sits up and reaches over to straighten the sunglasses on your face, then the cap.

"i'm not letting you keep that set."

"okay."

"i mean it."

"sure."

he looks at you. you look at him from behind his own sunglasses. he reaches out and pulls you down onto the bed next to him by the hoodie sleeve, and you land in a heap and he's laughing again, quieter this time.

"you're actually the worst."

"and yet."

he kisses the side of your head. the set gets folded neatly onto your side of the overnight bag by the end of the night and niki acts like he has no idea how it got there.

it's not like you didn't want to kiss him like, all the time. but the thing was… no one knew you were dating.

you were like a part of the family since you two met in middle school; you were his best friend. the lines between your friendship and something more were getting blurry, and it was only a matter of time before you turned into lovers.

the issue was that his (and your) parents didn't know yet. and you preferred it stayed this way, since even though it was maki, your maki, your parents wanted you to focus on school.

and his… well, you were sure they thought of you more like a daughter of theirs.

"are you done with the baking? can we do something fun now?" he asked, swaying you both gently.

"well, actually…" you hummed, tilting your head. "we need your help with the rolling pin. the dough won't budge"

"ah" maki rolled his eyes. "using me for my muscles… rude"

"okay, shut up. first, your mom asked me to ask you. second of all, i know you just looove bragging and putting your beefy arms to good use" you whined and playfully jabbed his waist. maki let out a small squeal.

"fine, i'll do it. just to pretend i don't see you staring at them by the way" he teased and grinned. "for a kiss, though"

"offer accepted" you stood on your tiptoes and placed your lips against his. maki smiled into the kiss, the evidence of you snacking on the chocolate very much palpable on your lips. your hands sneaked to the pockets of his jeans, while his just manhandled your head for a better angle.

"y/n!" maki's mom voice reached you unexpectedly, and you two jolted away.

"coming!" you yelled back and stepped away.

"me too!" maki added. he went to open the door but felt a sudden slap on his butt. he turned around, wide-eyed. "girl!"

"sorry, it was stronger than me!" you just laughed and signaled him to go.

you didn't realize that your hands left a floury hand print on his ass.

"thank you, dear" his mom smiled upon seeing her rosy-cheeked son. maki got to work, heart bumping in his chest with adrenaline/ and just when he heard you come into the kitchen, his mom let out a small gasp, looking at the white trace on his jeans. "what's that?"

and that's how you knew you fucked up.

masterlist <3

The cool spring air hit you, sending strands of your hair flying to your face, effectively and deliberately ruining your lip combo you’d spent a few minutes on.

Perfect.

So, so perfect. 

The university grounds had burst into color — you could smell the scent of fresh corn dogs being fried from the row of food stalls near the humanities building, a speaker somewhere blasting Bags by Clairo loud enough for the chorus to melt into the chatter of passing students, laughter ringing out from every direction.

Every year, the graduating batch organized a spring fair as one final send-off before the semester dissolved into deadlines, internships, and goodbyes too heavy to say out loud. 

Festive is an understatement.

Flowers strung along canopies, student booths lined with handmade trinkets and half-melted candles, photo walls stood crowded with squealing friend groups, while games and cheap drinks in plastic cups filled whatever empty spaces remained.

Really, it was one last attempt at wringing sentimentality out of a student body too sleep-deprived, and far too emotionally constipated, to process the fact that the seniors would be gone in a few months.

Not that any of that was your main concern.

Nope, while everyone else was busy pretending to cherish the fleeting beauty of university life, you were far more invested in the one thing spring fair reliably delivered every single year: the campus anonymous confession page losing its collective mind. 

Like clockwork, the submissions came flooding in the second booths opened. 

Confessions.

hello and good moooorning 😍 to the engineering major at booth 6 who keeps fixing his sleeves every thirty seconds FUHHH you’re so damn fine bruh like you’re insane

WHOEVER THE FUCK LITERALLY JUST GOT SERENADED BY THE LEE HEESEUNG FROM THE MUSIC DEPT WITH WOOZI’S GUITAR did you say yes or are we all just gonna die from the heat today 😞

Shameless pleas to visit their stalls.

hi hi hi PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE come to booth 14 🥹 we’re really cool we promise! we have brownies, friendship bracelets, and jake voluntarily (mind you, VOLUNTARILY) doing customer service with a smile ✌️this may never happen again so take the risk or lose the chance and come visit us

send support to booth 9 pls… hot (totally) health sciences major chwe vernon agreed to wear cat ears if we hit the quota (begging on my knees btw)

Missed connections.

to the cute girl in a pink cardigan who helped me pick up the flyers in the library yesterday, i’m so sorry for suddenly running away because Jungwon poked me by the waist 😭 if you see this pls reach out i wanna be friends sb

tysm to kazuha from the performing arts department for buying our cheesecakes and complimenting them 🥹 so so grateful for the love and support, we were too shy to say it in person but you made our entire day ☹️ i hope you see this

Questionable public dares.

yo admin if this gets posted before 2pm i will man up and ask for a picture with sunghoon

my friends said i will never have the balls for this but yolo 😂 but to ningning from the fashion booth, do you wanna check out the book booth by the engineering building…??? ADMIN PLS POST THIS ASAP TY

Suspiciously detailed sightings that sent entire departments into detective mode.

just saw business boy, black tote bag, silver watch, bring in a huge ass bouquet at exactly 10:09 am today (entrance by the accountancy department building) WHO IS IT FOR PLS SPILL

admin pls tell james to stop manning the god damn drink booth like he’s auditioning for boyfriend of the year 😭✌️im crine

Friends exposing friends with absolutely no shame. 

MANNN my seatmate (from lecture hall 4 btw) spent a whole ass hour perfecting her eye makeup for literally no damn reason apparently 💔 “i need to look nice in group photos” but kim mingyu is legit on campus rn just floating around

admin pls post because ik very well my friends just on here rn… seungmin if you see this pls pls PLEASE come to the building by the dorms because you have yet to hand me over the money from last week & im craving allat 🫠

And, naturally, dramatic cries for administrative intervention.

admin can you please confirm whether or not sunoo is single so i can proceed with my day hwhauahahah

TO WHOEVER IS USING THIS PAGE TO PUBLICLY THIRST OVER THE BUSINESS MAJOR BOYS PLEASE KEEP GOING I’M SO DAMN INVESTED 🙏

Spring fair was many things, but above all, it was prime anonymous page entertainment. 

The feed moved like it had a life of its own, too fast to properly keep up with, too loud to ignore, and just chaotic enough that everyone pretended they weren’t checking it every thirty seconds.

You were seated at one of the long wooden tables near the center walkway, half-shaded by a canopy of paper flowers someone had clearly spent too many late nights folding. 

Your friends had run off earlier with vague promises of “be right back” and “we’re getting food,” which, in spring fair language, meant you had at least ten uninterrupted minutes alone with your phone and absolutely zero self-control.

Perfect conditions, really.

Your thumb kept scrolling out of habit more than curiosity now, refresh, pause, scroll, repeat, it’s like the page had become a second pulse in your hand.

The feed was still alive, of course. It always was at this hour, like the entire campus had agreed productivity was optional for the day.

You weren’t even reading anymore; you were just catching fragments of them as they passed. 

YOON JEONGHAN OH MY GOODNESS GRACIOUS jeonghan literally just walked past me again and ugh i swear he wants to make eye contact 🤣 chill im easy

Admin pls stop approving confessions from the same 7 people flirting with people they saw for less than a minute 😭

to whoever the hell keeps stealing extra fries from our booth: we see you, we respect you, and we fear you (just don’t steal one of the plastic containers bruh istg)

admins just be approving to approve nowadays im hollering

JUST PASSED BY BOOTH 14 AND WTF JAKE IS SO FINE IN PERSON WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME 💔

admin pls why are all the confessions js people admitting they’ve been staring at strangers for 0.2 seconds and calling it fate 🥲

You exhaled lightly through your nose, shifting your elbow on the table.

The feed blurred into itself again — booths, crushes, complaints, people overreacting to everything and nothing all at once.

Then, in between everything else, something newer slipped in.

Not as a thread, not grouped together, not framed as anything important. 

It was just fragments appearing at different points in the scroll, separated by entirely unrelated posts that had nothing to do with each other. 

A complaint about melted ice cream sat above it, followed by a lost phone report, followed by someone asking if it was embarrassing to trip in front of their crush and still think about it three days later.

Buried somewhere after a booth announcement about discounted chicken popcorn came a post that looked more like an unfinished thought than a confession.

okay wait i’m actually going to get exposed for this but i HAVE to get this off my chest cause im so bad at keep secrets 🧍‍♂️… whoever is the lucky girl congratufuckinglations

You kept scrolling.

A meme about Hoshi tripping on his own shoe lace. A student asking if anyone had seen a missing shoulder bag. A rant about how the mathemathics department’s attendance sheet was “emotionally violent on Thursdays.”

Another booth update. Someone selling stickers shaped like fruits. A joke about how no one trusts the engineering department with electrical wiring but still buys from them anyway.

Then, scattered again, further down, separated by posts about croquettes and someone complaining about the heat making eyeliner run, another line appeared.

IF YOU GUYS SAW A BUSINESS MAJOR WALKING AROUND WITH A BUNCH OF FLOWERS TODAY NO THE FUCK YOU DID NOOOTT 😂 quit playing

A confession about accidentally calling a professor “mom” during recitation. A blurry photo of someone’s drink order labeled “breakdown brew.” A booth owner begging people to stop stealing sample forks.

Then the same voice, not labeled, not connected, just dropped again in a completely different section of the feed, like it belonged to an entirely separate conversation happening in parallel.

he literally walked around with them for like an hour like he was thinking too hard about something that wasn’t even that complicated be so fr right now man

More posts passed between it. Someone losing their wallet. A joke about how spring fair was just capitalism disguised as bonding time. A group asking admin to stop approving confessions written entirely in caps lock.

A review of booth revel bars calling them “life changing and emotionally destabilizing.”

Then another fragment appeared lower down, not adjacent to the others, not grouped, not following any visible order.

i’m his friend btw i’m allowed to say this 💀 he kept stopping near booths like he was waiting for a sign from the heavenly figures or something but then just kept walking again like nothing happened every time i can’t deal with this bitch for longer

The feed kept moving without acknowledging it. A poll about favorite booth snacks. A lost airpod report. Someone asking if anyone had seen the accountancy department boy who always sits slightly off-center in Lecture Hall 5 on Wednesdays because “he looks familiar and I’m losing my mind about it.”

Another unrelated joke about Jake smiling too much at customers.

Then, further down again, almost swallowed by everything else, the final fragment appeared.

anyway if lecture hall 2 psych girl somehow sees this, just know he’s been like this since forever and i’m tired of having to deal with his whiny ass 😭

You stared at the screen a little longer than necessary.

The posts kept moving the same way they always did, too fast to settle into anything solid. Booth updates, complaints about the heat, someone saying their garlic bread fell, and they “emotionally checked out for the day.” A Joshua sighting that apparently caused mild chaos for no reason other than existing.

Nothing about it was structured enough to take seriously.

Your thumb kept scrolling.

A recurring mention of a business major with a silver watch moving between booths kept slipping through the feed, like the page had collectively decided he was now part of the spring fair scenery. 

why does the commerce guy with the silver watch or something keep appearing everywhere like he’s doing a campus tour wtf 👻 companion who are YOU

Then another post a few scrolls down, joking about how he kept pausing near booths like he was trying to decide something important, turning away, coming back, then disappearing again like the fair itself was giving him second thoughts.

“Who even is this guy that he has several posts about him,” you mutter under your breath.

Between those, everything else stayed unrelated. Someone complaining about their groupmate disappearing mid-spring fair to “find themselves” and returning with only fried snacks. A rant about Lecture Hall 11 seats being “designed like medieval punishment devices specifically for Monday mornings,” like some ancient trial method disguised as university furniture. 

bro from business keeps hovering around like he’s waiting for a cue in a movie but refuses to read the script DAMN ITT JUST TAKE THE RISK BROTHER 🫡

A friend-type post followed somewhere else in the feed, joking about someone being seen pacing between booths all day, stopping near crowds, then walking away again like he was waiting for something to align properly before acting on it.

You exhaled lightly through your nose.

“Jeez, what’s all the fuss for,” you muttered under your breath, thumb still moving.

A guy with flowers, some vague sightings, people acting like it was a bigger deal than it sounded on paper.

Your eyes flicked back to the feed, slower now, like you were actually paying attention instead of just scrolling through habit.

Lecture Hall 2, psychology girl.

That detail came up again.

You tilted your head slightly, thinking.

Psych department. Lecture Hall 2. Tuesdays.

Your gaze drifted, not fully focused, just connecting dots as they came.

There were only so, so many girls in your class who fit that routine.

The one who always came in early and chose the same seat without fail. The one who never really joined conversations before class started. The one who stayed quiet, always slightly detached from the noise around her. The one who left right after lectures ended, like she was already halfway elsewhere before anyone else stood up.

You hummed softly to yourself.

“Probably her then,” you said under your breath, more observation than certainty, you were just sorting through possibilities the same way the page was.

Your thumb kept scrolling.

Still no urgency.

After all, it was still just another messy spring fair feed.

Your thumb kept moving, screen half-tilted toward you as you slouched a little further into the wooden bench. 

The feed didn’t care that you were only half-reading it anymore. It just kept giving you more of the same exact things — booth drama, exaggerated confessions, someone arguing about cup noodles superiority like it was a serious academic debate.

You were mid-scroll when your phone dimmed slightly from inactivity, your attention drifting just enough to let the sound of the fair take over again. 

The sound of chairs scraping, distant laughter, and a burst of music from a nearby stall that got swallowed by the crowd almost immediately.

Then something tapped your shoulder.

It was light and direct; it wasn’t enough to hurt you, but just enough to interrupt.

You blinked once, still half in the page, then instinctively turned your head slightly.

Another tap, closer to your other side this time, like whoever it was didn’t feel like waiting for you to fully register them.

“Hello,” a voice said behind you, calm but way too close to ignore.

You finally looked up.

The phone in your hand was still open to the feed, but it suddenly didn't feel important enough to hold onto.

Behind you stood Jay.

The Park Jongseong, mind you.

Not in a dramatic way, no, not like the kind of arrival people would turn their heads for twice. He was just there, close enough that the noise of the fair felt slightly farther away, like the space around him had decided to quiet down without asking permission.

Business department. Silver watch. The same name that kept slipping through anonymous posts like background noise people joked about but never expected to actually stand in front of them.

Shit.

The same guy people apparently kept orbiting in passing, the one with the easy reputation, the one who always looked like he belonged somewhere slightly more put together than wherever he was currently standing.

And yet he was just there.

Right behind you.

Holding a bouquet that looked almost out of place in his hands.

Yellow first, soft and bright like sunlight caught in something real. White flowers layered in between like pauses that didn't need explaining. Pink near the edges, lighter, almost hesitant, like someone had chosen them last but still chosen them anyway.

His grip on it wasn't fully confident either. It’s like he wasn't used to holding something that mattered in a way people could see.

Your brain didn't process it all at once.

It came in fragments.

Silver watch. Jay. Business department. The posts. The running jokes. The vague mentions. The anonymous page chaos that suddenly didn't feel so anonymous anymore.

Your chest tightened before you could even name the feeling.

Not pain, not fear.

Hell no.

Just something sharp and immediate, like your body had recognized him faster than your thoughts did.

Your fingers loosened slightly around your phone without you realizing it.

The screen stayed lit in your hand, still showing the feed, still full of noise that now felt distant and irrelevant.

None of it mattered anymore though. 

Jay was looking at you like you weren't just another passerby at spring fair. As if he hadn't just crossed campus, ignored everything else, and stopped exactly here on purpose.

Your heartbeat did something stupidly obvious then, loud enough that it almost felt unfair.

Heat crept up your cheeks before you could stop it, subtle at first, then worse when you realized there was no way to pretend you hadn't noticed him.

You swallowed slightly.

He still didn't speak.

He just waited.

It’s almost like he was giving you time to fully arrive back into your own moment before he stepped into it with you.

The seconds stretched, and you became acutely aware of every sound around you. 

The distant hum of the fair. The laughter from the food stalls. Someone calling out prices for handmade jewelry four booths away. All of it felt like it belonged to a different world now, one that existed just beyond the strange, quiet bubble you'd somehow fallen into with a guy you'd only ever known through secondhand stories and pixelated profile pictures.

You finally found your voice, though it came out smaller than you intended.

"Hi."

Damn it.

The word barely made it past your throat, and you immediately wanted to take it back. 

Hi? That was what you came up with? 

After seeing his name circulate through anonymous posts, after all the whispers in lecture halls about who he was and who he might be interested in, after scrolling past a post about him just seconds ago without a second thought? Hi?

But Jay's expression didn't shift into the polite, distant acknowledgment you might have expected from someone like him. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, almost like he'd been waiting for you to speak first and was quietly pleased that you had.

"Hi," he echoed back, and his voice was lower than you'd imagined it would be. 

He wasn't in a rush to fill the space between you with unnecessary words.

You glanced down at the bouquet again, as if looking anywhere else might buy you time to figure out what was happening. The yellow flowers caught the afternoon light, and you noticed for the first time how deliberate the arrangement was. This wasn't something grabbed last-minute from a grocery store display. Someone had thought about this. Someone had chosen each stem with purpose.

And that someone was standing right in front of you, watching you not-so-subtly avoid eye contact.

"Those are—" you started, and then stopped, because you weren't sure how to finish the sentence. Beautiful? For me? Completely unexpected from a person I've never actually spoken to before today?

"They're for you," Jay said, and he shifted his weight slightly, lifting the bouquet just enough that it became impossible to pretend otherwise. "If you want them."

Your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat.

If you want them.

He was giving you an out. He understood that this was strange, that showing up out of nowhere with flowers for someone you'd never formally met wasn't exactly standard campus behavior. Yet, he said it so simply, like the question was genuine and not just a formality.

"I—" You looked up at him properly now, and the full force of eye contact hit you all at once. 

He was taller than you'd realized, or maybe you just felt smaller. 

Either way, you found yourself staring directly into the kind of gaze that made you understand why people wrote anonymous posts about him in the first place. There was something unnervingly present about the way he looked at you. He was just so, so focused entirely on you like you were worth the attention.

"You don't have to explain," you managed finally, though your voice still felt unsteady. "I just—I wasn't expecting—I mean, I saw the posts, but I didn't think—"

"You saw the posts?" There was a flicker of something in his expression. Not quite amusement, but close to it. "About me wandering around with flowers?"

The heat in your cheeks intensified, and you were suddenly very aware that you'd just admitted to scrolling through the anonymous confession page like everyone else on campus. "I mean—yes? It's hard not to. People post about everything and anything nowadays."

"That's true." He glanced down at the bouquet for a moment, and you noticed the way his thumb brushed against the paper wrapping. A small, almost unconscious gesture. "Though I wasn't sure if you'd actually see them… or if you'd care if you did."

The admission landed strangely. 

He thought about this.

About you specifically, not just about the act of holding flowers in public while people speculated.

"Why wouldn't I care?" you asked before you could stop yourself, and then immediately regretted it. 

That sounded too eager, too obvious, too much like you wanted him to have a good answer.

But Jay didn't seem to mind. If anything, his smile deepened just slightly, and he stepped closer. Not enough to be overwhelming, but enough that you could smell something faintly clean and warm, laundry detergent, maybe.

"Because you didn't seem like the type to pay attention to anonymous posts," he said simply. "You always looked like you had better things to think about."

You blinked. "You've noticed how I look?"

The question slipped out before you could filter it, and you watched his expression shift again. Something softer. More uncertain, almost, though he recovered quickly.

"I've noticed a lot of things," he admitted, and then he held the bouquet out fully, bridging the last of the distance between you. 

"These are for you. Because I wanted them to be for you. I've… actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while, and this seemed like the only way I'd actually do it."

Your hands moved on their own. You reached out, fingers brushing against the paper wrapping, and you felt the weight of the bouquet settle into your grip. It was heavier than you expected. 

The yellow flowers were bright against your skin. 

The white ones looked almost luminous in the afternoon light. 

The pink, god, the pink was softer up close, delicate in a way that made something twist gently in your chest.

No one had ever given you flowers before.

Not like this, not carefully chosen and held by someone who looked at you like you were worth the effort of choosing them.

"I don't know what to say," you whispered, and the honesty of it surprised even you.

"You don't have to say anything." Jay's voice was quiet now, too, matching yours. "I just wanted you to have them. I just wanted you to know."

A laugh bubbled up from somewhere unexpected. 

Not nervous this time, but genuine, warming, and bright and entirely beyond your control. 

You looked down at the flowers in your arms, then back up at him, and the absurdity of the moment hit you all at once. 

"This is ridiculous," you said, but you were still smiling. "In the best way, by the way. Very, very ridiculous in the best possible way."

Jay's shoulders relaxed slightly, like he'd been holding tension he hadn't realized was there. "I wasn't sure if you'd think it was creepy. Showing up like this. I've been walking around for twenty minutes trying to figure out if this was a terrible idea."

"Twenty minutes?"

"Maybe longer." He ran a hand through his hair, and the gesture was so unexpectedly human that you felt another laugh building in your chest. "The posts weren't wrong. I have been wandering around with these. I just didn't want to seem like I was... I don't know… making a scene."

"You kind of are making a scene," you pointed out, but there was no bite to it. Just warmth.

"Maybe." He glanced around briefly, and you noticed a few people nearby stealing glances. Not many, but enough. Enough that you knew this would probably end up on the anonymous page by tomorrow morning. "But I think I'm okay with that. If you are."

You looked down at the bouquet again, at the colors bright against your arms, and felt something settle in your chest. 

"I'm okay with that," you said.

You laughed, bright and unselfconscious, letting the sound carry just enough that it felt like release.

The noise of the fair faded back in around you, but it didn't feel overwhelming anymore. 

Jay watched you laugh, and something in his expression shifted. 

Something softer, fonder, like he hadn't expected this moment to go this way but was grateful that it had.

A strand of hair had fallen loose from wherever you'd tied it earlier, and you didn't notice it at first, too caught up in the flowers, in the absurdity, in the warmth spreading through your chest. 

But Jay noticed. 

His gaze flickered down for just a second, and then his hand was moving, slow enough that you could have pulled away if you'd wanted to.

You didn't want to.

His fingers brushed against your temple, light and careful, as he tucked the strand back behind your ear. The touch lingered just a moment longer than necessary, and then his hand dropped, returning to his side like nothing had happened.

You felt the ghost of his fingertips against your skin, and the sensation stayed with you, quiet and warm and impossible to ignore.

"There," he said softly. "Now you don't have to keep fixing it."

You hadn't even realized you'd been fixing it.

Somehow, that small gesture felt bigger than the flowers in your arms. 

More intimate, more deliberate, like he'd been paying attention in ways you hadn't known anyone was paying attention.

"Thank you," you said, and the words felt inadequate, but they were all you had. "For the flowers, and… for whatever this is."

Jay smiled, and the expression transformed his face in a way that made you understand, suddenly, why people couldn't stop talking about him. 

Because when he looked at you like that, like you were the only person in a crowded fairground worth focusing on, it felt like something worth talking about.

"I should thank you," he said. "For not making this weird."

"It's still a little weird," you admitted, but you were smiling too.

"Like… um—good weird?"

"Good weird," you confirmed.

The afternoon light caught the yellow flowers in your arms, and for a moment, everything felt suspended. 

You held the bouquet tighter, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you'd have to explain this later. 

To your friends, your classmates, and probably your parents if they saw you returning home with flowers. 

To whoever saw the inevitable post on the anonymous page tomorrow. 

That felt far away now, though, separate from the warmth of this moment and the quiet certainty settling in your chest.

Jay tucked his hands into his pockets, watching you with an expression you couldn't quite name but felt, somehow, like it meant something.

"So," he said, and the word was light, easy. "Do you want to walk around? See what else the fair has to offer?"

You looked at him and felt the last of your nervousness dissolve into something warmer.

"Of course," you said. "I'd love that."

You fell into step beside him, flowers in your arms and the afternoon stretching out ahead, bright and unexpected and entirely, wonderfully new.

⭐️ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

bonus: bf jaehyun <3