#noona.. save... me.......................

you find yourself staring off somewhere, maybe at the floor or the wall or your own hands, because how are you supposed to explain something that feels so soft and so loud at the same time? how do you put into words the way sunoo is always there to cheer you up, the way jungwon looks at you like you're someone he trusts with his whole heart, the way ni-ki acts like he doesn't care but somehow always ends up right by your side?

as crazy as they can be, just like their hyungs, you're proud to say they're your babies. your boys. and nothing in this world could ever make you love them any less than you how love the older members. if anything, being their noona makes your heart stretch in a different way making it ache and warm all at once.

to you, you are their one and only favourite and only noona in the group, and you say that with your whole chest. they might tease you, they might drive you insane, but they're so openly affectionate and caring that anyone who says otherwise is lying. sunoo clings to you like it's second nature, jungwon listens to you like every word you say matters, and ni-ki, despite all his nonchalantness, always finds a way to show that he cares.

so eventually, when people keep pressing for an answer, you smile and tell them the truth.

you tell them they're your babies. little boys who love towering over you just to make a point, who give you migraines with their endless energy, who whine into your ears every five seconds about something ridiculous or dramatic or both. little boys who poke at you, tease you, and look at you with mischievous grins like they know exactly how much power they have over you. because according to them, who else are they supposed to lovingly tease?

you may have your ups and downs with them, but at the end of the day you always know how much you mean to each other in ways that don't need to be said out loud. it's in the way they look for you in a room, in the way they call your name when something goes wrong, in the way they still come running to you even when they're pretending they don't need you.

nothing is worth more than your friendships with them.

not the fame, not the noise, not the hecticness that comes with being who you all are. because when everything else falls away, it's still you and them, still your laughter echoing through the dorm, still their voices whining and teasing and yelling "noona!" like it's the most important word they know. and you wouldn't trade that for anything in the world.

you were tucked into one of the corners of the practice room, the cool wooden floor pressing against your palms as you stretched your legs out wide in front of you. you leaned forward slowly, reaching for your toes, feeling the familiar pull along your thighs as you tried to warm your body up for the intense dance practice that was about to begin. the mirrors reflected everything back at you, the bright lights overhead, the scuffed floor, and all of the boys scattered across the room.

some of them were still stretching, quietly focused, while others were already goofing around, laughing and nudging each other like they always did before practice officially started. their voices filled the space in a way that was comforting but also a little overwhelming, especially with the way your thoughts were spiralling today.

you were nervous.

yesterday's practice had been rough, at least in your head. the choreography had been tricky, full of sharp transitions and fast footwork, and even though everyone had made mistakes, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were the only one really struggling. you remembered the way your feet hesitated, the way your mind blanked out on certain counts, and how you had fallen just a little out of sync more than once. the choreography teacher had reassured you, telling you it was fine, that everyone was learning and messing up, but insecurities have a way of ignoring logic.

you reached a little farther toward your toes, a small frown on your face as you held the stretch. you didn't want to be the reason practice slowed down today, nor did you want to be the one holding everyone back, and the idea of it made your chest feel heavy, like there was something pressing down on you from the inside.

you glanced around the room, watching the others move so easily, so confidently, and that familiar thought crept in again, quiet but cruel.

you let out a small breath, trying to shake it off, but it clung to you anyway, settling somewhere deep in your mind.

curse your insecurities, you thought bitterly.

as you were leaning up from your stretching position still distracted by your own thoughts, you suddenly felt something lightly flick your forehead. you blinked in surprise at the sharp little sensation and looked up, only to find ni-ki standing right in front of you. his hands were tucked lazily into the pockets of his loose sweatpants, his hoodie pulled over his head in that way that always made him look a little too comfortable, a little too mischievous. he tilted his head as he looked down at you, eyes curious in that relaxed, observant way of his.

"what's with that ugly frown?" he asked, voice casual but teasing.

you scoffed, immediately looking away as you brought a hand up to rub your forehead, more to hide yourself than anything else as you continued stretching. "i'm not frowning." you muttered under your breath, stubborn and quiet.

ni-ki didn't move. he just stayed there, standing over you watching. after a moment he pulled one hand out of his pocket and gently tugged at your hair, not enough to hurt, just enough to get your attention. "you were frowning. don't lie."

you swatted his hand away, choosing to ignore him even though now the frown on your face was obvious. you were too worried, too lost in your own head to even try hiding it anymore.

ni-ki studied you for a few more seconds, his gaze lingering on your face before he moved. you watched him step around and come to stand directly in front of you, nudging your legs a wider apart with his foot and then lowering himself down onto the floor, sitting right in front of you and opening his legs to mirror your stretching position.

he held his hands out toward you, palms open and waiting.

you looked at him warily before letting out a small reserved sigh. you reached forward and took his hands, letting him pull you gently closer so you could continue stretching, even though what he was really doing was pulling you back out of your own head, just a little.

for a few minutes the two of you stayed like that, quietly helping each other stretch. you took turns leaning back and pulling each other forward by the hands, the slow rhythm of it almost calming, like a small routine that existed just between you. the sounds of the rest of the room faded into the background, the laughter and footsteps and music tests becoming distant, replaced by the steady feeling of ni-ki's grip and the gentle pull in your muscles.

the maknae's eyes never left your face. he watched you carefully, the way your brows stayed knit together, the way your lips were pressed into a thin line, and the way you didn't look up even once. meanwhile, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground in front of you, staring at the floor like it held all the answers, trying not to think too hard about everything weighing on your mind.

it was quiet between you, but it wasn't empty. it was full of all the things you weren't saying.

after a few more silent stretches, ni-ki finally spoke up, his tone light but pointed. "are you gonna let that frown pay rent on your face or what?"

you immediately let go of his hands and shot him a glare, your eyes finally lifting to meet his. "i'm not in the mood right now." you muttered lowly, irritation slipping into your voice.

he only smiled at you, wide and a little smug, clearly pleased that he'd finally gotten you to look at him. he nudged one of his stretched-out feet against yours and leaned forward, crossing his arms loosely over his knees. his voice dropped, softer now, more serious as he called out to you. "noona, what's wrong?"

your furrowed brows slowly relaxed, the tension in your face easing just a little as you looked away from him. your eyes drifted to where sunghoon had sunoo trapped in a loose chokehold a few feet away, sunoo loudly yelling curses and struggling while jungwon laughed nearby, a dramatic and familiar scene.

you finally let your shoulders slump. "i'm just… nervous about messing up today's practice."

he glanced back at the others before returning his attention to you, his eyes sharp and observant like they always were, and sometimes you really couldn't tell if that was a blessing or a curse. "what do you mean?"

you shrugged, looking down at the space between the two of you again, fiddling with your fingers. "i dunno. i just… really sucked at practice yesterday. 'm scared today's gonna be the same and we're gonna fall behind 'cause of me…"

you looked up briefly and saw the confused look on his face. "noona, we all were messing up yesterday."

"yeah," you replied quietly, "but, i was a bit more…"

ni-ki shook his head as you trailed off, leaning forward just to flick your forehead again. you yelped, instantly bringing a hand up. "stop that."

"listen," he cut in, his tone firm but not unkind. "it's practice. it's okay if you mess up. that's literally why we have it in the first place. and honestly i'm kind of relieved you forgot, but you seem to be forgetting that i literally tripped and fell on my ass yesterday. totally uncool, i know."

his lips twitched with a small grin before he continued, eyes steady on yours. "but you gotta stop thinking about yourself like that. none of us think you did worse than us or anything. i mean, look at me. i'm a dancing machine, but i didn't just become that in one day, right?"

you didn't answer him. instead, you just kept frowning at the floor, staring down at the wooden panels like they were somehow responsible for how you were feeling. ni-ki noticed and a soft laugh slipped out of him at the sight.

"sigh, so stubborn." he tutted.

he was already moving before you had any ideas of deepening your frown, stepping around to stand behind you and suddenly feeling his hands slide underneath your arms, and with an effortless lift, he pulled you up off the floor. "hey—" you started surprised, but he was already setting you back down on your feet.

he moved to stand beside you and slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you a little closer to him, a familiar action. you could feel the warmth of him there, solid and grounding, and it made it harder to stay curled up inside your own worries.

"come onnnnn noona." he said, poking at your cheek, then your side, then your arm, clearly determined. "smile. you look scary like this."

you tried to stay serious, but he kept prodding and nudging you, teasing you in that annoying affectionate way that only he could get away with. you finally caved when he nudged his hips against yours, the unexpected contact making you stumble just a little. "hey." but he was already grinning.

"if you're really that worried," he said, voice lighter now, "i'll help you with the moves today."

you turned your head to give him a slow side-eye, suspicion written all over your face. "hmm? no ulterior motive behind your oh-so-generous offer?"

ni-ki snorted, stepping in front of you and throwing his arms wide like he was presenting himself on a stage. "i'm always this nice." he declares.

you rolled your eyes and bumped your shoulder into his, shoving him playfully. "alright... thanks." the heaviness in your chest slowly making its way for something that relaxes your nerves.

not long after, the dance instructor finally walked in, clapping their hands together to get everyone's attention, and the room quickly shifted from playful chaos to focused energy. you and ni-ki still found little moments to poke and tease each other in between, quiet whispers and small nudges that made it easier to breathe through the nerves.

whenever you came across a move that felt just a little too fast or a little too complicated, ni-ki would immediately step in. he'd move beside you, mirroring your steps, gently correcting the angle of your arm or the timing of your foot with soft words and quick demonstrations. he never made you feel stupid for asking, never made a big deal out of it, just guided you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

slowly, without you even really realising it, your confidence started to grow. the more you practiced, the less your body hesitated, and the more the choreography began to flow. by the time the session was coming to an end, you found yourself hitting the moves cleanly, your muscles remembering what your mind had been so afraid to forget. when the instructor nodded in approval, something warm bloomed in your chest.

later, as everyone packed up their bags and headed back toward the van, you found yourself walking alongside ni-ki. the air was cooler now, the day winding down, and the nerves you’d started with felt so far away.

you glanced at him shyly before looking back at your feet. "hey… thanks again for helping me today."

he smirked at you in response, not even slowing down as he suddenly pulled you into a loose headlock. you yelped, hands immediately flying up to try and pry him off, while his laughter rang out loud and clear, mixing with your whining.

"don't mention it noona."

you and sunoo lay side by side on his bed, shoulders barely brushing, the soft hum of the dorm settling into the background around you. the lights were dimmed, his lamp casting a gentle glow across the ceiling, and both of you had fresh face masks carefully smoothed onto your skin — ones he had proudly announced he bought just for the two of you.

"limited edition." he had said earlier, dramatically waving the packet in your face. "only for people with elite visuals."

now you both lay flat on your backs above the covers, hands resting on your stomachs, staring up at the ceiling like you were contemplating the universe instead of waiting for skincare to soak in. the air smelled faintly of whatever floral essence the masks were infused with.

"okay." sunoo suddenly said, voice echoing slightly in the quiet room. "who's most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse?"

you didn't even hesitate. "ni-ki."

sunoo turned his head slightly toward you. "what? why?"

"he's fast. and scary. and he wouldn't hesitate to trip one of you to save himself."

sunoo gasped. "he would not."

you turned your head to look at him, laughing. "he absolutely would."

he burst into laughter, the sound muffled slightly by the mask. "okay, fine. but who's most likely to get caught first?"

you hummed thoughtfully. "jake."

"i totally agree."

"he'd try to make friends with the zombies."

sunoo laughed so hard the bed shook slightly beneath you. "he would. he'd be like, 'guys maybe they're misunderstood.'"

you giggled quietly, the sound softer now as the late hour began wrapping around you.

"who's most likely to cry during a horror movie?" he asked next.

you both answered at the same time.

"you." "you."

sunoo turned to scoff at you. "how dare you noona."

you smiled innocently at the ceiling. "you literally scream when someone knocks on the door too loudly."

"no i don't." he grumbled. "anyways... who's most likely to get married first?"

"jay." you answer confidentally.

sunoo hummed in agreement. "he gives stable husband energy."

"he does." you said solemnly.

the 'who's most likely to' slowly dissolves into completely random made-up scenarios, both of you staring at the ceiling like you're scripting a whole alternate universe for the group.

"okay." sunoo says suddenly, voice soft but dramatic as always, "imagine we're stranded on a deserted island. who becomes leader?"

"jungwon." you answer instantly. "he'd pretend he doesn't want it but then start assigning tasks."

sunoo snorts. "jay would argue about it."

"jay would absolutely argue about it." you agree. "he'd start building something out of bamboo just to prove he's capable."

"jake would try to comfort everyone." sunoo adds. "like 'guys it's okay, we'll make the best of it.'"

you grin. "sunghoon would just sit on a rock looking annoyed."

"he'd say the sand is ruining his shoes."

you both giggle.

"heeseng," sunoo continues, "would quietly collect coconuts and somehow be the most productive."

you hum. "and ni-ki would climb the tallest tree for no reason. and then refuse to come down and then complain that no one appreciates his survival skills."

sunoo laughs so hard he has to press a hand to his stomach.

there's a pause before he speaks again.

"okay, imagine we're in high school."

you groan lightly. "we are not doing this."

"we are absolutely doing this."

you sigh dramatically but comply anyway. "fine. jungwon is class president."

"obviously."

"jay would be in the debate club and would take it too seriously. heeseung is that quiet top student who doesn't even try but gets full marks."

sunoo nods enthusiastically. "sunghoon is the popular senior everyone's intimidated by. but actually he's just awkward."

"jake is on the soccer team and befriends literally everyone."

"ni-ki," sunoo says thoughtfully, "is the tall underclassman everyone's scared of at first. but he's actually just loud."

you both laugh again, your voices softer now, sleepier.

"what about us?" sunoo asks after a moment.

you giggle. "we'd be the ones gossiping in the back of class. sharing snacks and judging everyone."

the laughter fades slowly, like it doesn't want to leave.

for a while, neither of you say anything.

the ceiling suddenly feels… bigger.

"sunoo." you murmur softly.

"hmm?"

you keep your eyes on the blank white above you. "what do you think you'd be doing right now… if you weren't in enhypen?"

there's no teasing in your voice this time. no game. just quiet curiosity.

there's a long pause and you can almost hear him thinking.

"i think…" he starts slowly, "…i'd probably still try to do something creative. maybe theatre, or maybe i'd be one of those university students who joins every club possible."

you smile faintly. that sounds like him.

"you'd be popular." you say without hesitation.

he scoffs. "no."

"yes you would." you insist softly. "you'd be the student everyone likes but is slightly intimidated by."

"intimidated?" he gasps quietly. "me?"

"you know you have that aura."

he hums at that, not denying it.

"i think…" he continues, voice softer now, "maybe i would've even liked to own my own bakery or cafe. that sounds like fun. but... i don't think i'd have been as confident."

that makes you fully turn your head toward him. "what do you mean?"

he takes a breath. "being here. being in this group. performing, struggling together, it made me to grow in one of the best ways." he laughs lightly. "i don't think old me would recognize me now."

your chest tightens just a little. "i think he'd be proud." you say quietly.

the corners of sunoo's lips lift up slightly.

the room is quiet again.

"what about you?" he asks gently. "what would you be doing?"

you think about it.

"maybe something boring." you joke. "office job. nine to five."

"no way." he says immediately. "you'd never survive that."

you snort softly.

"you'd probably still find your way back to us somehow." he adds.

you glance at him. "that's not how life works."

"i don't care." he says simply. "i think some people are meant to meet."

your chest tightens at that.

you slowly turn your gaze back up to the ceiling, blinking at the faint shadow from the lamp outside filtering through the curtains. your throat suddenly feels dry.

"…sometimes." you begin, your voice quieter now, almost careful, "i wonder if there's a world out there where i'm not with you guys. like… a world where i never debuted with you, where we never crossed paths, where i don'’t know jungwon, or heeseung, or jay, or jake… or ni-ki.”'t know any of you boys."

your fingers curl slightly against the sheets.

"where would i be?" you whisper. "and where would you all be?"

you keep talking, almost like if you stop, the thought will get stuck inside you."

"maybe i'd be a fan,” you wonder. "saving up money for concerts. screaming in the crowd."

you try to smile a little. it doesn't quite reach.

"or maybe i'd just be some regular university student. too busy studying. too stressed about exams. not even paying attention."

sunoo's fingers twitch slightly against the blanket.

"maybe i'd walk past you guys one day." you continue softly, voice almost distant now. "on the street. or at a cafe. and you wouldn't even know who i am."

there's a lump in your throat.

"i wouldn't know anything about you, and you guys wouldn't knwo anything about me... and we'd just walk by."

you swallow.

"…that makes me sad."

sunoo shifts beside you.

"…i don't like this." he says quietly.

you swallow. "i'm just thinking."

"don't noona." he replies almost immediately.

you glance at him, surprised by the firmness in his tone.

his eyes are still on the ceiling, but his jaw has tightened slightly.

"why not?" you ask gently.

he exhales through his nose.

"because it sounds like you're imagining leaving."

your heart drops. "that's not what i—"

"it is." he interrupts softly, not harsh, just… vulnerable. "even if you don't mean it like that."

you didn't expect that.

you turn fully onto your side now, looking at him. his face mask has started peeling slightly near his chin, but he doesn't bother fixing it.

"sunoo," you murmur, "i'm not planning on disappearing."

he finally turns his head to look at you.

"then why think about it?"

there's something fragile in his eyes.

you hesitate. "because it scares me," you admit. "how much you all mean to me."

he goes quiet.

"if i never met you," you continue softly, "i wouldn't know what i was missing. but now that i do… imagining a world without you guys feels wrong. empty almost."

your voice cracks just a little at the end.

"it's not that i want it," you add quickly. "i just… sometimes i wonder how fragile everything is. how one decision could've changed it all."

sunoo stares at you for a long moment. then he sighs.

"i don't like fragile." he says.

you almost smile.

"me neither."

he shifts closer under the blanket without really thinking about it. your shoulders press more firmly together now.

"there isn't a world," he says quietly, "that i care about where you're not here."

your breath catches. "sunoo…"

"i mean it." he says, eyes steady on yours now as he peels off his mask now, you doing the same. "before debut, after debut, in another universe, whatever. if there's a version of me somewhere… i hope you're there too."

the firmness in his voice makes your chest ache.

"that's a big thing to wish for." you whisper weakly.

"maybe." he shrugs lightly. "but i don't like imagining us as strangers."

he hooks your pinky into his as he speaks, voice low and steady now.

"i'm sure i'd feel it," he says quietly. "the silence. like… even if we didn't know what was missing, we'd still feel something was off."

his thumb rubs gently over your knuckles.

"all of us probably would."

the room feels still around you, the distant hum of the dorm faint beyond the door.

"there's a reason we keep circling around the word 'fate' noona," he continues. "we don't say it lightly."

you know that. you've heard it in interviews, in late-night conversations, in the way the members look at each other when they talk about their journey.

it's not just a word to them, not something they use for aesthetics.

it's something they believe in.

sunoo glances at you again, softer now.

"we worked hard, we chose this. but it also feels like… we were guided here."

"like threads pulling us together." you murmur.

he nods. "yeah. and you're part of that thread."

the words settle deep in your chest.

"who's most likely to never leave each other alone?" he softly whispers this time, facing his ceiling.

you turned your head back to the ceiling, eyes watery as you squeeze your pinky with his.

"us."

sunoo smiled without even looking at you. "yeah." he says, squeezing your pinky back."

"us."

the dormitory air feels wrong.

it's not loud, nor is it warm like it usually is. instead it's heavy, thick with tension that settles into everyone's shoulders and makes even the smallest movement feel deliberate. no one is sitting close. no one is laughing. the space between each member feels wider than it actually is, like the room itself is trying to keep people apart.

and in the middle of it all, you and jungwon are standing in the living room, facing each other with raised voices.

you don't even remember how it started anymore.

it had begun on the way back from practice, maybe with a comment that was misunderstood, maybe with exhaustion making everything sharper than it needed to be. but by now, after minutes of back-and-forth, neither of you can trace the original spark. it feels like it dissolved into something bigger, something fueled by frustration and pride and the kind of stubbornness that only comes out when both of you care too much.

your voice echoes off the walls as you speak, hands gesturing without meaning to, your tone sharper than you intend. jungwon stands across from you, equally heated, his brows drawn tightly together, eyes focused on you in a way that feels intense and unyielding. neither of you backing down.

the others linger at the edges of the room, frozen in uncertainty. heeseung stands a little apart, jaw tense but expression carefully controlled, watching without interrupting. jay and jake exchange quick glances, clearly trying to figure out whether stepping in would help or make it worse. sunghoon's arms are crossed, eyes shifting between you and jungwon with quiet concern. ni-ki stands slightly behind him, unusually still, his usual energy replaced by a guarded silence. and sunoo's not sure his heart can handle all the yelling.

no one knows what to say.

the argument keeps building, your words overlapping with jungwon's, neither of you fully listening anymore. it's not just about the topic at this point, whatever it was. it's about being heard, being understood. about the frustration of feeling like something important slipped through the cracks.

your breathing is uneven. jungwon's is too.

and as the seconds stretch on, the rest of enhypen throw each other worried looks, silently asking what they should do, silently hoping this doesn't spiral further because they've seen disagreements before. they've seen stress and exhaustion and arguments born from pressure.

but this feels different. this feels close to something fragile. and right now, the only thing filling the dorm is the tension hanging in the air between you and jungwon, both of you standing your ground, neither willing to step back just yet.

jungwon's jaw is clenched so tightly the muscle ticks near his ear. his hands are rigid at his sides, fingers flexing like he's physically holding himself back. you can feel the tension in your own body too—your fists curled by your thighs, nails pressing crescents into your palms.

you've disagreed before. of course you have. practice corrections, scheduling conflicts, small misunderstandings that dissolve with a sigh and an apology.

but never like this.

"don't act like you're the only one exhausted." you snap, the frustration that's been simmering for weeks finally spilling over. "we're all tired. we're all stressed. i don't understand why you're so wound up."

jungwon's eyes flash.

"because i'm the leader!" he fires back, the words coming out harsher than he probably intends. "i have responsibilities you don't even see. i have to answer for everything. the last thing i need is you all acting like children and getting us into trouble with the managers."

from the corner of your eye, you see jay shift uncomfortably. jake inhales like he's about to step in, then hesitates.

you scoff, the sound sharp and incredulous.

"children?" you repeat. "i'm not a child. and i'm certainly not acting like one."

jungwon's shoulders rise and fall with a controlled breath that isn't very controlled at all.

"you don't understand the pressure." he says, voice lower now but edged with something raw. "every mistake reflects on me. every small thing becomes my fault!"

"and you think it doesn't affect us either?" you shoot back. "you think we don't feel that pressure too??"

"that's not what i—"

"no, you just assume we're reckless." you interrupt, your voice climbing again. "like we're burdens you have to babysit."

his jaw tightens further.

"that's not what " said."

"it's what you implied."

the room feels smaller. hotter.

you shake your head, anger mixing with something more personal now.

“I’m not a child," you repeat no less firmly. "but you wouldn't know what that feels like anymore."

his brows knit together. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"it means," you say, the words spilling out before you can soften them, "you've gotten so bossy lately that you don't even listen. you just command. you decide. you assume."

there's a beat of stunned silence after that as your words hang in the air.

jungwon's nostrils flare, his composure cracking in a way you've almost never seen before. he takes a step closer, not aggressively, but close enough that the space between you shrinks into something tight and suffocating.

"say that again noona." he says, voice low, daring.

you don't hesitate.

"bossy." you repeat, staring straight at him. "that's all you are nowadays. commands. orders. schedules. corrections. it's like talking to a robot."

a muscle in his jaw jumps. "a robot?" he echoes, incredulous.

"yeah." you fire back. "like you forgot how to just be with us. everything has to be efficient. everything has to be perfect. everything has to go your way."

"because someone has to be serious when it matters." he snaps, his voice finally rising to match yours. "someone has to think ahead. someone has to care about consequences!"

"we care!" you shout back.

"do you?" he challenges immediately. "because from where i'm standing, you think everything is fine as long as it doesn't directly involve you."

that hits.

your eyes widen, anger flashing.

"that's NOT true!"

"isn't it?" he presses. "you brush things off. you joke. you say we'll deal with it later. but later becomes my problem."

"your problem?" you repeat sharply. "we're a group, jungwon. not some little group project!"

"i know we're a group!" he shoots back. "but when something goes wrong, who do you think gets called first? who do you think has to sit in those meetings? who has to answer when the managers are upset?!"

"so now we're burdens?" you demand. "is that it? we're just things you have to manage?"

"that's not what i said." he fights back.

"yeah? well that's exactly how you sound."

you both are breathing hard now, standing too close, words coming out faster than either of you can filter them.

"you don't listen anymore," you accuse. "you just decide what's right and expect us to follow."

"and you don't think before you act." he counters immediately. "you think passion fixes everything."

"at least i have passion." you snap.

his eyes flash.

"and at least i'm thinking about the future instead of just the moment."

"wow." you laugh bitterly. "so now i'm irresponsible?"

"if the shoe fits—"

"don't." you warn.

"then stop acting like i'm the villain for trying to keep this together." he fires back.

"no one asked you to carry it alone!" you shout. "you chose to act like that!"

"because if i don't, things fall apart!" he yells, louder than he has all night. "someone has to hold the line."

"we're not your soldiers." you grit out. "we're your members. your friends."

the word hangs heavy.

he looks at you, chest rising and falling, eyes bright with frustration.

"then start acting like it," he says, quieter but sharper. "instead of making things harder."

"harder?" your voice trembles, more from anger than hurt. "you think i make things harder?"

"sometimes." he admits, jaw tight.

that's when it spirals.

you throw back every time he corrected your tone. every time he pulled you aside to 'talk'. every time he dismissed your opinion because it wasn't practical enough.

he throws back every time you brushed off a warning. every time you rolled your eyes at a reminder. every time you undermined him in front of the others without meaning to.

accusations pile up.

you say he doesn't trust you.

he says you don't respect him as leader.

you say he's changed.

he says you refuse to be the older and responsible one between them.

neither of you notice the way the others have gone completely silent now, tension crackling through the dorm like static.

this isn't about practice anymore. it's not about managers.

it's about pride, about pressure, and about two people who care too much and are too exhausted to say it properly.

and neither of you is willing to be the first to step back.

"guys—"

"hey, let's just—"

noona, hyung, calm down please—"

but neither of you hear the other boys. or maybe you do, and you just don't care.

your arms cross tightly over your chest, your breath uneven, and you snap your head toward the others, frustration spilling over.

"you all agree with me, right?" you demand, eyes searching their faces desperately. "tell him i'm not crazy."

they freeze.

that's all it takes for jungwon to step in again.

"don't drag them into this." he cuts in sharply, moving closer. so close that suddenly there's barely any space between you. almost chest to chest. the proximity catches you off guard for half a second, and you have to crane your neck up to meet his eyes.

but you don't shy away. you match his glare.

"you always think you're right." he snaps suddenly.

the words hit you like a slap.

"excuse me??" you yell.

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "you do this every time. you get emotional, you dig your heels in, and you refuse to see another perspective."

"oh my god." you laugh bitterly. "that's rich coming from you."

heeseung finally steps forward, unable to stay back any longer. his voice is firm but careful.

"guys, please. this is too much."

jake moves in too, gently reaching to place a hand on jungwon's shoulder.

“won, come on. just breathe for a second—"

jungwon shrugs him off almost instantly.

"no." he says, not even looking at him. his eyes are locked on you. "nnot until noona gets it in her brain that this shit is serious. i'm not backing down."

the word noona lands heavy.

it's not affectionate right now.

it's frustrated. sharp.

you feel your throat tighten but you refuse to let it show.

"i know it's serious!" you shout back. "you think i don't? you think i haven't been trying?"

"trying?" jungwon repeats, incredulous.

"yes, trying!" you step forward this time, closing whatever little space was left between you. "i've been doing my best to support you. i've been helping with practices, with schedules, with keeping the mood up when everyone's tired. i've tried to take things off your plate when i can!"

your voice wavers, just slightly.

"but you clearly haven't noticed. because you're too wound up in your own head."

that one lands.

for a split second, his expression flickers.

"don't." he warns.

"don't what jungwon." you press. "don't tell the truth?"

"don't act like you understand what it's like." he growls. "you don't sit in those meetings. you don't hear what i hear."

"then let me!" you fire back immediately. "let me in instead of shutting everyone out!"

your voice cracks at the edges, but it's strong, desperate, pleading beneath the anger.

jungwon's face hardens instead of softening.

"let you in?" he shoots back, his laugh sharp and humorless. "what, you think you'll actually be of any help?"

the room freezes.

it's subtle at first, the way everyone stills, but it's there. like the air has been vacuumed out all at once.

ni-ki's head snaps up, eyes narrowing.

"hyung—" he starts, a low warning in his voice, but you cut him off before he can continue.

you lift your chin, nose tilting up in wounded pride, eyes burning.

"what?" you challenge, stepping even closer despite the way your heart is starting to pound unevenly. "you don't think my help would do you any good?"

jungwon doesn't answer immediately.

the silence feels dangerous.

"you looking down on me now?" you press, your voice trembling not with fear, but fury.

and something in him finally breaks.

you see it happen. the moment where the frustration overrides the restraint. where the hurt turns into something reckless. his breathing is uneven, chest rising and falling too quickly, eyes dark and blazing with emotion he can't seem to regulate anymore.

he doesn't think.

he just speaks.

"yeah," he spits out. "kinda hard not to when you're such a hinderance."

the word lands like a physical blow.

your brain barely has time to process it before he keeps going, mouth moving faster than his mind can catch up.

"maybe the managers should've thought twice before allowing you into the group."

it's as if time splits open.

everything stops.

the dorm goes so quiet you can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

you don't move. you don't blink. it feels like all the air has been sucked from your lungs at once, like something cold and sharp has driven straight through your chest. the word hinderance echoes in your head, over and over, overlapping with the rest of it.

maybe they should've thought twice.

maybe you shouldn't be here.

your body goes rigid, frozen in place. a cold chill creeps down your spine and settles deep into your bones.

around you, the others look like they've been punched in the gut.

heeseung's mouth parts in shock, eyes wide. jake's hand drops limply to his side, jay mutters a stunned "what the fuck." under his breath, sunghoon stands up from the chair he was sitting on. sunoo's face drains of color, and ni-ki's jaw tightens so hard it looks painful, anger flaring in his eyes.

jungwon is still breathing hard, chest heaving in and out, eyes locked on you with a storm of emotion that hasn't caught up to the damage he's just done.

you don't think you've ever seen him look like that.

not at you.

never at you.

it doesn't even feel real. like maybe you misheard.

but you didn't.

the silence stretches, suffocating.

your vision blurs slightly, and you realize too late that your eyes are filling. you try to swallow, to steady yourself, to say something back, something cutting and sharp enough to match what he just threw at you.

nothing comes out.

instead, a shaky, stuttered breath leaves your lips.

it's small, fragile. but in the dead silence of the room, it sounds deafening.

a single tear slips free before you can stop it, warm against your skin as it trails slowly down your cheek.

that's when it hits him.

you see it in real time. the anger drains from his face, replaced by something horrified. his breathing stutters, like he's just realized what he's done. his eyes flicker from your tear to your expression, and the weight of his words crashes down on him all at once.

"i—" he starts, but the word dies in his throat.

the damage is already done.

your voice feels like it's been stolen straight from your throat, replaced by something hollow and ringing. tears fall freely now, no longer held back by pride or anger, slipping down your cheeks one after another as you stare at jungwon like you don't quite recognize the person standing in front of you.

your arms have fallen to your sides. your fists are no longer clenched.

you just look… defeated.

sunghoon is the first one to move.

he had been rooted in place before, stunned like the rest of them, but something in your expression—something in the way your shoulders tremble—snaps him out of it. he strides forward without hesitation, jaw tight, eyes blazing in a way they rarely do.

he grabs jungwon by the shoulder and shoves him back, not violently, but firmly enough to create space.

"what the fuck do you think you’re saying?!" sunghoon growls, his voice low and shaking with anger.

jungwon stumbles a few steps back, caught off guard. his balance falters and he barely catches himself, eyes wide, mouth parted uselessly as he tries to find words that won't come.

"i— i didn't—" he stutters, but the sentence collapses before it can form.

he looks frozen. he's not angry anymore. just stunned, like he's only now hearing his own voice echo back at him.

the others move all at once after that, as if the spell finally breaks.

jay is at sunghoon's side in seconds, putting a hand on his chest to hold him back from advancing further. "enough." he mutters, though his glare is still locked on jungwon. "just— enough."

ni-ki steps forward too, placing himself halfway between jungwon and you, his expression darker than you've ever seen it. he doesn't say anything this time. he just stands there, protective and rigid.

heeseung moves toward jungwon, gripping his arm tightly, steadying him as he sways slightly.

"won," he says sharply, his voice carrying both authority and disbelief. "what was that?"

jungwon shakes his head faintly, like he's trying to wake up from something. "i didn't mean— i wasn't thinking—"

jake is the first to reach you, hands hovering awkwardly before he gently rests them on your shoulders. "hey." he says softly, voice completely different from the tension just moments ago. "hey, look at me y/n."

but you can't. your eyes are unfocused, staring at nothing.

sunoo steps in front of you, his own eyes glossy. he reaches up carefully and wipes at your cheek with his sleeve, his hand trembling. "noona…" he whispers, and there's something broken in his voice.

the living room feels split in half now.

half of them around you, trying to ground you, to steady you. half around jungwon, who looks like the floor has disappeared beneath him.

"this has gone too far." jay mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"we don't do that." sunghoon snaps, still seething. "we don't say things like that to each other."

jungwon's breathing is uneven, but not from anger anymore. it's panic now. regret crashing into him in waves.

"i didn't mean it," he says, voice cracking. "i swear i didn't mean it."

but the words feel weak in the heavy air.

because even if he didn't mean it—

he said it.

and you're still standing there, silent, tears falling freely, looking like something inside you just shattered.

the sound that leaves you is just a small, choked sob that you try and fail to swallow back down. but in the suffocating quiet of the dorm, it might as well be a scream.

jungwon's head snaps towards you immediately.

whatever shock had frozen him in place shatters at that sound. he breaks free from heeseung's grip without thinking, pushing past jay's arm, ignoring the way sunghoon steps forward again like he's ready to block him.

"noona—" his voice cracks as he rushes toward you.

but the second he gets close—

you flinch.

it's small, barely noticeable. your shoulders jerk and your body shifts back half a step like you're bracing yourself.

and that tiny movement breaks something in him completely.

he stops dead in his tracks as the look on his face crumples.

"no, no—" he breathes, shaking his head rapidly. "noona, i'm not— i wouldn't—"

sunoo is still beside you, one hand on your arm. jake stands slightly in front of you like a barrier, but he doesn't stop jungwon from speaking.

his voice is frantic now, stripped of all pride, all anger.

"i— im sorry." he rushes out, stepping closer again but slower this time, cautious. "i'm so sorry. i didn't mean it! i wasn't thinking. i swear to you i didn't mean a single word of that!"

you can hear him.

you know he's talking, you know he's apologizing. but it feels like you're underwater.

his voice sounds distant, muffled, like it has to travel through something thick before it reaches you. your heart is pounding so hard in your chest it almost hurts, each beat loud in your ears. your hands are cold. your fingers tingle.

you can't think straight.

you can't process.

all you can feel is the echo of his words looping cruelly in your head.

hinderance.

should have thought twice.

you nod.

it's small, almost mechanical. your chin dipping once like your body is responding out of habit rather than understanding.

you don't look at him. you can't.

a hiccuped sob tears out of you, embarrassing and shaky, and you lift a trembling hand to wipe your face but it only smears the tears further.

"i—" your voice cracks badly. you swallow and try again. "i want to leave."

everyone goes still again.

"what?" jake's voice is immediate, panicked.

"i want to leave." you repeat, barely holding it together. "i just— i need some space. i need to breathe."

panic ripples through the room.

jake reaches for you instinctively, fingers wrapping around your arm. "what do you mean leave? you can't just—"

you gently pry his hand off, not harshly, just firm enough to break contact.

"please." you sob softly. "i just need space."

"noona, wait—" jungwon steps forward again, desperation flooding back into his voice.

but you don't let him finish.

you slip past them before anyone can react fast enough, your vision blurry with tears as you rush toward the front door. your hands shake as you shove your feet into your sneakers, not even bothering to tie them properly, heels barely pressed in.

someone calls out for you again, you're not even sure who.

the door swings open as the cool air of the building hallway hits your face.

and then you're gone.

the door closes behind you with a heavy click. the sound echoes and the living room feels enormous in your absence. the silence left behind is suffocating.

jungwon stands frozen where you left him, staring at the door like it might open again if he wills it hard enough. he feels like the air has been sucked out of the room entirely.

he can't breathe.

sunoo presses a hand to his mouth, eyes glossy. ni-ki runs a hand through his hair in frustration, pacing once before stopping. heeseung closes his eyes briefly, trying to steady himself. sunghoon looks toward the door, jaw tight, worry etched across his features. jake is still standing near where you pulled away from him, hand half-raised like he's replaying the moment.

jungwon swallows hard.

"i—" his voice breaks. he tries again. "i didn't— i didn't mean—"

"we know." heeseung says quietly, but it's strained.

jungwon's shoulders slump slightly.

he feels sick.

jay exhales sharply, running both hands over his face before looking around at everyone.

"okay." he says, voice firm despite the tension. "we all need to talk."

no one argues. because this isn't something that can be brushed off. this isn't a small fight that ends with takeaway food and awkward laughter.

you had walked out.

and jungwon stands there in the middle of the living room, staring at the closed door, feeling like he's just watched something precious slip through his fingers because he wanted to win an argument that suddenly doesn't matter at all.

.....

outside, the air hits you like a shock.

it's cold enough to bite, sharp against your damp cheeks, turning the trails of your tears icy as they keep falling. your lungs burn when you inhale too quickly, but you don't slow down. you just keep moving, sneakers slapping unevenly against the pavement, laces loose and heels barely secured.

you don't even know where you're going.

left. right. straight ahead. anywhere that isn't there.

the city is quieter at this hour, the hum of distant traffic blending into a low, constant murmur. your breaths come out in shaky puffs of white, dissolving into the night as fast as they form.

you don't stop running until your legs begin to ache and your chest feels tight for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold.

you turn a corner without thinking and find yourself near a small park you vaguely recognize. it's mostly empty, swings swaying faintly in the wind, leaves rustling along the pavement. a single streetlamp casts a pale yellow glow over a secluded stretch of footpath. you just walk toward it and your knees give out.

you slump down onto the curb beneath the streetlamp, the concrete unforgiving beneath you. you hug your arms around yourself automatically, shoulders shaking, and press the heels of your hands against your eyes as if you can physically force the tears to stop.

they don't.

each breath is uneven, hitching, breaking apart in your chest before you can steady it. your head feels heavy, thoughts muddled and tangled together.

hinderance.

maybe they should have thought twice.

you squeeze your eyes shut harder.

"stop." you whisper to yourself, voice trembling.

you know he didn't mean it. you know he was angry. you know he was hurting too.

but knowing doesn't erase the way it felt.

those words didn't just sting—they cut deep, right into the place you keep your quiet fears. the insecurities you rarely voice out loud. the small voice that sometimes wonders if you're enough, if you're pulling your weight, if you truly deserve to stand beside them.

another sob escapes you before you can swallow it down. you wipe at your face again, but your skin is already cold and sensitive from the constant tears.

you tilt your head back against the metal pole of the streetlamp, staring up at the pale halo of light above you. moths flutter lazily around it, unaware of the storm raging beneath.

your phone buzzes again in your trembling hands.

for a second, you almost ignore it.

but the screen lights up against the dim glow of the streetlamp, and through blurry vision you see the notifications stacked on top of each other. missed call after missed calls and messages after messages.

your throat tightens again.

before you can process it, another call comes in.

its jay.

you stare at his name for two full rings.

three.

four.

you inhale shakily and swipe to answer.

"h-hello…" the word barely makes it out, fragile and cracked.

on the other end, you immediately hear him exhale in relief.

"she answered." jay says quickly, voice turning away from the phone for a second. you can hear muffled movement in the background.

voices overlap faintly.

"is she okay?"

"give it to me—"

"where is she?"

jay comes back, and when he speaks again his tone is steady. but you can hear it—the worry tucked into every syllable.

"hey… you okay?"

you open your mouth and nothing comes out. your lips tremble instead. the wind rustles through the trees above you and your silence stretches too long.

jay exhales lowly.

"i'm sorry." he says quietly. "we should've stepped in earlier when it was getting heated. we shouldn't have let it escalate like that."

you don't have the energy to respond properly. you just hum faintly into the phone so he knows you're litening.

in the background, you hear ni-ki's voice—tense, a little sharp with anxiety.

"ask her where she is. did she say where she'd she go?"

jay clears his throat. "where are you right now?"

you press your sleeve to your nose and sniff, looking around as if the surroundings might answer for you. empty swings, leafless trees, and the lonely streetlamp buzzing faintly above you.

"in some park." you murmur, voice cracks in the end.

"okay." jay replies immediately. "that's okay. just stay there, alright? don't move. jungwon's already out looking for you."

you don't say anything.

jay sighs softly on the other end. "i talked to him. we all did."

you squeeze your eyes shut.

"you know he didn't mean that, right?" jay continues carefully. "it's not an excuse. he was upset and he didn't think before he spoke. but you know he would never actually believe those words."

your breathing wavers.

you sniff again and wipe at your cheeks again, though they're already dry from the cold air.

"…i know." you breathe.

there's a pause. and then jay's voice softens even more.

"we love you. all of us do. we're so proud to have you with us. none of us would ever wish for anything different."

your chest aches in a different way now.

"jungwon especially." he adds quietly.

you blink.

that catches you off guard.

"what…?"

jay lets out a small breath, almost like a half-laugh. "you don't see it because he's not obvious about it. but he cares about you the most when it comes to the group. he worries about you constantly. about whether you're okay, whether you're overworking, whether people treat you fairly. i mean, we all do, but no one does it more than that guy."

your heart twists. you didn't know that.

"he's probably panicking the hardest right now." he continues. "he's been blaming himself since you left."

you swallow.

the image of jungwon walking through the cold streets alone, eyes scanning every corner—

it hurts.

"let him know where you are." jay says gently. "okay? please. just text him the location. he'll come to you."

you nod faintly even though he can't see it.

"…okay."

there's another small pause.

"we love you." jay says again, firm this time.

your lips tremble.

"i love you guys too."

you mean it with your whole chest.

you hang up slowly, staring at your reflection in the dark screen for a second before lowering the phone to your lap.

the park is still quiet.

after a moment, you unlock your phone again. your thumb hovers over his contact for a second before you press send.

location shared.

no message. no explanation. just a blinking pin on a map that says here.

you lock your phone and slide it back into your pocket, the screen's faint glow disappearing, leaving you alone again under the streetlamp's pale halo.

the night feels quieter now.

fifteen minutes. that's what you probably have before he finds you. fifteen minutes to sit with everything.

you draw a slow breath, though it trembles on the way out. the cold doesn't feel as sharp anymore, or maybe your skin is just numb from crying. your mind starts replaying the past few days—the exhaustion, the tension, the tight schedules, the small misunderstandings that kept stacking on top of each other until they became too heavy.

it wasn't just tonight. it was everything.

you think about jungwon. the way he'd been quieter than usual these past few days. how he stayed back after practice to talk to staff. how he was the one fielding the harder questions. how he always made sure everyone else ate first before grabbing his own plate.

you weren't the leader... he was. jungwon had that title for a reason. he carries it like it's stitched into his skin.

he's strong. everyone says it, the fans say it, the members say it, even you say it.

but strong doesn't mean unbreakable.

and tonight, you hadn't helped.

you squeeze your hands together, remembering your own words—sharp, defensive, thrown out in hurt without filtering them. accusing him of not understanding you, of not caring enough.

you swallow, guilt slowly replacing the ache in your chest. you know that wasn't fair.

if anything, he prioritizes too much.

you think about the way he looks at everyone during interviews, subtly checking if they're okay. the way he steps in during awkward moments and when he absorbs stress so the rest of you don't have to feel it as heavily.

maybe it had just been too much lately.

maybe your words had been the final push when he was already teetering on the edge.

your chest tightens at the thought. you hadn’t meant to hurt him either.

but you did.

and he hurt you.

and now both of you are out in the same cold night, thinking about the same fight from opposite ends.

you tilt your head up, staring at the dark sky beyond the streetlamp's glow.

you both care for each other, and that's what made it hurt so much.

you inhale slowly, steadying yourself. he wasn't just a leader tonight. he was a boy who'd reached his limit. and you had reached yours.

maybe neither of you were villains in this story, maybe you were just tired.

you close your eyes. when he gets here, you won't yell. you'll listen.

and maybe… maybe you'll apologize first.

......

not too long after you sent your location, you're still sitting beneath the streetlamp, staring at nothing in particular, lost in your thoughts when you notice movement at the far edge of the park.

at first it's just a shadow shifting between trees. you blink, unsure if i'’s your imagination. but then the figure steps closer into the light spilling from the nearby street.

jungwon.

his pace is quick at first, almost frantic, head turning sharply from side to side as he scans the area. even from this distance, you can see the tension in his posture, the way his shoulders are slightly raised, the way his steps are uneven, unsure but determined all at once. he looks like he's been running on adrenaline since leaving the dorm.

your heart reacts before your mind does.

he spins around once, searching further, and then suddenly freezes in place when his eyes land on you.

for a moment, neither of you moves. the distance between you feels both small and enormous at the same time, as though the park has stretched itself just to make this moment longer. his expression shifts when he confirms it's really you sitting there.

you take a slow breath, reaching up and gently wipe away the last traces of moisture clinging to your waterline. then after a second of hesitation, you lift your hand. small and uncertain. just a quiet wave in his direction.

that simple gesture seems to break whatever remaining stillness was holding him back.

jungwon exhales sharply, almost like he's been holding his breath the entire time he was searching. his shoulders drop, and something in his expression softens so visibly it makes your own throat tighten again.

he doesn't run. instead, he starts walking toward you slowly.

each step is deliberate and careful, like he's afraid that if he moves too fast you might disappear. his eyes stay locked on you the entire time, never leaving your face.

the space between you shrinks with every step he takes.

when jungwon is only a few feet away, his steps slow, uncertainty creeping back into his movements. the determination that carried him across the park gives way to something softer, more fragile, as though now that he's close enough to touch you, he's afraid of what that contact might mean.

he stops directly in front of you where you're still sitting on the curb beneath the streetlamp.

for a moment, neither of you speaks.

the silence isn't heavy anymore, but it's charged. there's a pulling sensation in your chest, the instinct to look away first, to break the intensity of it all. you can see it in him too, the same urge flickering behind his eyes.

but neither of you does.

and for the first time since the fight began, there's no anger left in the space between you. only exhaustion. only regret. only the quiet realization of how badly things spiraled.

after a few seconds that feel much longer, both of you inhale at the same time.

your mouths open simultaneously.

"i'm sorry." "i'm sorry"

the words fall out together, overlapping in the cold air.

you both stop and look at each other stunned.

then something shifts in jungwon's face, where the last remnants of restraint break entirely.

he surges forward suddenly, driven by emotion rather than thought. you barely have time to register the movement before you're pushing yourself up from the curb, standing just as he reaches you. and then he's firmly and desperately wrapping his arms around your back, pulling you flush against his chest and closing every inch of space between you.

apologies spill out rapidly, words tumbling over each other in a rush of regret. he buries his face into the side of your neck, his breath shaky against your skin as he holds you like he's afraid you might vanish if he loosens his grip.

you stand there for only a couple of seconds before something inside of you eases and then your lifting your arms lift slowly, hesitantly at first, before wrapping around his neck just as tightly. your fingers press into the fabric of his hoodie, anchoring yourself to him. you turn your face slightly and rest it against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him. and you realize he's shaking slightly, whether from the cold or emotion you can't tell.

his grip tightens when he feels you hug him back, as if that reassurance gives him permission to hold on.

the apologies don't stop. they're muffled against your skin, quieter, breaking apart with every breath.

the streetlamp above you hums softly.

tiny drops wetting your neck where jungwon's face is buried, warm against your cold skin. he lets out a small, broken whine, the sound muffled by your shoulder as his grip tightens instinctively, like he's trying to hold himself together through you.

his breathing is uneven.

and then the words come, tumbling out in a rush, no pride left to protect.

"i didn't mean what i said back there." he says, voice shaking, each sentence pressed into your neck. "it was fucked up of me. i would never—ever—tell you that you don’t belong with us."

his arms squeeze you closer.

"i let my frustrations get the best of me. i spoke without thinking. i'm a big, dumb idiot.”

there's no trace of the sharpness from earlier. only raw and unfiltered regret.

"but if you forgive me," he continues desperately, his fingers clutching the fabric at your back, "i swear i'll do better. not just as your leader, as your friend. please, noona. please. please forgive me."

the repetition breaks something in your chest.

you tighten your grip around him in response, one hand sliding higher along his back, the other pressing firmly into his shoulder. you shake your head where it rests against him, your voice coming out muffled but sincere.

"i'm sorry too."

he stills slightly, listening.

you swallow, throat aching. "you do so much for all of us. and in the end i called you bossy. i accused you of being like a robot. that wasn't fair."

your fingers curl into his hoodie.

"you have feelings too. you're not just our leader. i should've seen things from your perspective before speaking. i was hurt and i lashed out just as much."

your voice trembles, but you force yourself to keep going.

"what you said did hurt." you admit softly. "but i understand you were overwhelmed. and i'm sorry i didn't try harder to understand that sooner."

jungwon pulls back just enough to look at you, hands still firmly on your waist, like he needs to see your face to believe you're really here, really talking to him. his eyes are red from guilt.

"you're not a burden." he says quietly, almost urgently. "not to me, not to anyone."

you nod faintly.

"and you're not bossy." you add gently. "you're just trying to protect us."

he leans his forehead against yours.

the cold air surrounds you both, but where you're touching, everything feels warm.

"i was scared," he confesses in a whisper. "that if i don't hold everything together, it'll fall apart."

your thumbs move slowly against his back, grounding him.

"it won't." you murmur. "we're not that fragile, you don't have to carry things alone."

he closes his eyes briefly, breathing you in like it steadies him.

after a while, the tightness in the hug eases naturally, not because either of you wants to let go, but because you both understand that you're staying.

you sit back down on the curb together, shoulders brushing, close enough that your warmth seeps into each other through layers of fabric. the streetlamp above casts a soft golden glow over the two of you, turning the moment quieter and intimate. the night doesn't feel as cold anymore.

for a few seconds, you just breathe.

jungwon drags a hand over his face, wiping the last of his tears away, then lets out a shaky exhale that almost sounds like a tired laugh. you can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips in response. it feels strange how quickly things can shift—from shouting to silence, from hurt to understanding.

you both know each other well enough to understand that what was said tonight wasn't spoken from the heart. it was exhaustion, pressure and fear that were talking.

you pull your knees up slightly, wrapping your arms around them as you stare out at the empty park. "it's just been… a lot lately." you admit.

jungwon nods immediately, like he's been waiting for someone to say it out loud.

he tells you about the meetings that have been weighing on him. about the constant balancing act of being strong for everyone else while feeling like he's running low himself. about how he's been scared to admit he's struggling because he thinks a leader isn't supposed to.

you listen carefully, really listen without interrupting.

then you tell him your side.

how the schedule has been draining you more than you let on. how you've been overthinking small mistakes. how sometimes you feel like you have to prove yourself over and over again, even when no one is asking you to. how when he would correct you, it hit nerves you didn't realize were already raw.

"i thought you were disappointed in me." you confess quietly.

his head snaps toward you. "never."

"hmm. i know that now."

you both sit with that.

the realization that you had been misreading each other for days because neither of you slowed down enough to talk. small misunderstandings piling up silently until they exploded tonight.

"i think we were both just tired." he says after a moment, voice softer.

"yeah." you agree. "tired and stubborn."

he nudges your shoulder lightly with his.

you nudge back.

you talk about how things have been affecting everyone—the subtle irritability, the way jokes haven't landed as easily, the quietness at dinner. how all of you have been carrying your own pieces of stress but trying not to burden the others with them.

"we can't keep doing that." you say gently. "pretending we're fine until we snap."

jungwon nods slowly. "i don't want to either."

there's a pause. then he adds more quietly, "i don't want to hurt you like that again."

your chest warms at that. "you won't." you say with certainty. "and if you do by accident, we'll talk before it turns into this."

he smiles faintly at that, the kind of small, tired smile that feels more honest than anything flashy.

you lean your head lightly against his shoulder, and after a second, he lets his rest against yours.

the night feels calmer now.

just as the last of the tension melts into something lighter between you, your phone begins to ring again, the sudden vibration in your pocket breaking the quiet calm of the park.

you pull it out, glancing at the screen.

heeseung.

you and jungwon share a small look before you answer, putting the call on speaker. your voice is steadier now. "hello?"

there's immediate noise on the other end—familiar voices overlapping in the background before heeseung's cuts through clearly. he asks how the two of you are, if jungwon found you and if everything's okay now,.

you glance at jungwon, who's watching you carefully, almost nervously, as if he's waiting for confirmation from your side too.

you can't help the small smile that spreads across your face.

"we're fine." you say softly. "we talked it out. we're alright now."

you can practically hear the collective sigh of relief from the other end of the line. someone—probably sunoo—murmurs something about finally being able to breathe again. there's light teasing mixed with genuine concern, and it makes your chest feel warm.

heeseung tells you it's getting late and that he hopes you both come home soon.

"we will." you promise. "we're heading back now."

after a few more reassurances and a quiet "love you guys", you hang up.

you look up to see jungwon already looking at you.

there's a softness in his expression that wasn't there earlier. not the leader. not the one carrying the world on his shoulders.

just him.

he pushes himself up from the curb first, brushing his hands against his pants. then he turns to you and holds his hand out.

his fingers are slightly pink from the cold.

"come on noona." he says gently. "let's go home."

noona.

the word settles warmly in your chest.

you take his hand without hesitation this time.

his grip closes around yours firmly, steady and grounding as he helps you up from the curb. for a brief second, you're closer than necessary, and neither of you pulls away immediately.

hand in hand, you begin walking back together, steps falling naturally into sync.

the path home feels a little warmer than before.

you and sunoo were standing side by side, arms loosely crossed, staring down at the absolute disaster happening on the living room floor. a full-on dogpile of limbs and voices and chaos had taken over the space, with the rest of the members tangled together in a mess of kicking legs and flailing arms. you both wore identical frowns as you watched, like two exhausted observers witnessing something deeply unnecessary.

you didn't even remember how it had started, but you were pretty sure ni-ki had been bothering jake like usual, which somehow spiraled into jake retaliating, and then sunghoon and jay getting dragged in, and jungwon trying to be responsible for about three seconds before he too disappeared into the pile. now the floor was just a storm of hoodies and sneakers and loud arguing.

jungwon and jay had both tried to grab you and sunoo at least a few times, hands reaching out to pull you into the mess but the two of you had worked together seamlessly, dodging and weaving and pulling the other out of the way at just the right moments. now you both stood safely at the edge of the dogpile, untouched and unimpressed.

you saw someone get elbowed in the ribs and winced instinctively, your eyes flicking to sunoo. he met your gaze, his own face mirroring your concern and annoyance, and in that silent exchange you both came to the same decision.

"you wanna get out of here?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

you didn't even hesitate, already turning around and heading for the door. "god yes."

a few loud yells followed behind you, someone shouting your name, another one demanding you come back, but you and sunoo were already scrambling to pull on your shoes, hands clumsy with urgency as you tried to escape before anyone could drag you back into the pile. you laughed under your breath as you slipped them on, adrenaline buzzing in your veins, and then the two of you were rushing out of the dorm, free from the madness.

the two of you walked down the road side by side, the dorm building slowly shrinking behind you with every step. the air felt lighter out here, quieter, like you could finally breathe again without someone tackling you or yelling your name. the sky above was painted in soft shades of orange and pink as the sun began to set, casting everything in a warm, gentle glow that made the streets feel almost dreamy.

you and sunoo wandered without any real destination, stopping to peer into shop windows, pointing out cute clothes, weird displays, and anything that caught your eye. at one point, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and when you checked it, sunghoon's name lit up the screen.

"how dare you leave the dorm without telling me." he complained the second you picked up.

you didn't even blink before hanging up, slipping your phone back into your pocket like nothing happened. sunoo burst into laughter beside you, nearly doubling over as he covered his mouth.

not long after, the two of you stumbled upon a small, adorable shop filled with tiny trinkets and pastel-coloured decorations. it was impossible not to go in. inside, you found shelves lined with the cutest little things, and eventually you both ended up standing in front of a display of tiny kitty figures.

"we should get these." sunoo said immediately.

you ended up choosing one for him, a little cat with a mischievous smile that reminded you a little too much of him, while he picked one out for you, carefully comparing them like it was the most serious decision in the world. you both paid and left with your tiny treasures tucked safely away, smiling the whole time.

by the time the sun had dipped lower in the sky, your stomachs both began to growl in unison, making you look at each other and laugh.

"dinner?" sunoo suggested.

"dinner." you agreed.

the two of you made your way over to one of the restaurants you frequented together, pushing open the familiar doors and stepping inside. the warm smells of food immediately wrapped around you, making your hunger even worse.

both you and sunoo headed straight for your usual table, the one tucked away comfortably in the corner of the restaurant. it was far enough from prying eyes to feel private, but it still sat right by the window, giving you a clear view of the street outside where the last of the sunlight was fading into soft evening colors. it always felt like your little spot, a place that belonged just to the two of you.

you slid into the booth, sinking back against the cushioned seat with a small sigh of relief, while sunoo made himself comfortable across from you, already looking way too happy to be there. the waiter came by with a warm smile and handed you both your menus, and you thanked him before immediately starting to flip through the pages.

you and sunoo leaned in toward the table, quietly discussing what to get, pointing at different dishes and debating which ones would be the best to share. sunoo, as always, happily chose anything that looked especially delicious, eyes lighting up every time he spotted something new. you laughed at his enthusiasm, circling a few of your own picks as well.

you leaned back into your seat with a long, content sigh, letting yourself slouch comfortably into the booth like all the tension from the day had finally drained out of you. across from you, sunoo mirrored your posture almost perfectly, sinking down and stretching his legs out under the table.

he shot you a small, knowing smile. "tired already?"

you nodded lazily. "yeah, a little." you admitted, but your tone was happy. "but i had fun. we should definitely go back to that cute shop next time."

sunoo's eyes lit up immediately. "we should. and we have to get more matching things."

"anddd." you continued, leaning forward slightly as excitement crept back into your tone, "we should try that ice cream shop next door before heading home."

sunoo gasped lightly like you'd just suggested the best idea in the world. "oh my god yesss."

the two of you spent the next few minutes debating flavors and whether you should share or get separate cups, completely immersed in your little planning session. you were just about to lift your hand to call the waitress over when—

bang.

the loud noise against the window right beside your table made both you and sunoo jump in your seats. your heart nearly leapt out of your chest as your heads snapped toward the sound, eyes wide.

pressed dramatically against the glass were two very familiar faces.

jungwon and ni-ki stood outside, wrapped in their jackets, grinning like absolute menaces. ni-ki had his hand cupped around his face as if trying to peer in better, while jungwon waved enthusiastically.

"yoooo!" jungwon enthusiastically yelled through the glass.

you and sunoo both stared at them in disbelief, your expressions slowly shifting from shock to pure what the hell energy.

before you could even process how they'd found you, the two younger boys stepped away from the window and started heading toward the restaurant's front doors. just before moving fully out of sight, ni-ki leaned back toward the glass and tapped on it again loudly, clearly trying to scare you one more time.

this time, you didn't jump. you just slowly raised an eyebrow at him through the window, unimpressed.

sunoo sighed. "so much for a peaceful dinner."

the front door of the restaurant chimed loudly as jungwon and ni-ki stepped inside, bringing a small gust of cold evening air in with them. you could already hear them before you saw them properly, their voices carrying easily through the cozy hum of the restaurant as they made their way toward the back where you and sunoo were seated.

they were loud when they reached your table.

"found you!" ni-ki announced, like he had just completed some grand mission.

jungwon slid into the empty booth space smoothly next to you without hesitationbefore settling down like he belonged there all along. he shrugged off his jacket, clearly grateful for the warmth of the restaurant heaters, and draped it over his lap.

before you could even comment, he threw an arm around your shoulders and leaned into you comfortably, his side pressing against yours in an easy, familiar way.

"so." he said brightly, glancing between you and sunoo, "what are we ordering?"

you snorted at his audacity, instinctively leaning into him as well, your shoulder resting against his. "me and sunoo were just thinking of getting some hot pot." you replied.

"ahhh." jungwon hummed dramatically, nodding like he was deeply impressed. "what a wonderful choice for the four of us."

you burst out laughing at that, already knowing you weren't going to get rid of them.. across the table, sunoo narrowed his eyes at ni-ki, who had unceremoniously dumped himself into the booth beside sunoo, sliding in with zero regard for personal space, much to sunoo's immediate and visible dismay. his long legs stretched out under the table, his shoulders deliberately widening as he leaned back like he was trying to occupy every inch of the seat.

sunoo gasped in offense. "ya! the audacity— move over, riki!!

ni-ki only sank further into the booth, sprawling dramatically and pretending to get even more comfortable. "nawww, lemme be comfortable man." he replied lazily, throwing an arm across the backrest behind sunoo like he owned the place.

sunoo immediately started pushing at him, trying to shove his lanky body away. "you're literally on top of me!"

"i'm not." ni-ki argued, even though he very clearly was.

jungwon snickered beside you, his arm still around your shoulders as he watched the chaos unfold across the table. you sighed, already sensing where this was heading if you didn't intervene soon. sunoo's whining was steadily increasing in pitch, and ni-ki was absolutely not helping.

before sunoo could decide that the only solution was to drag the rest of the members here and turn this into a full seven-member dinner, you quickly lifted your hand to call the waitress over.

she approached with a polite smile, though her eyes flickered briefly to the bickering boys across from you.

"we're ready to order." you said, trying to sound composed while sunoo hissed at the youngest to move.

the four of you settled down properly after that, the chaos slowly simmering into something more manageable as the kind waitress took your order. one by one, you all listed the drinks you wanted, occasionally talking over each other until you shushed them lightly. in the end, you decided to share a moderately sized hotpot among the four of you, something warm and comforting to chase away the slow creeping winter outside.

the waitress nodded kindly, scribbling everything down with practiced ease. "i'll bring it out as fast as i can." she assured you.

you all thanked her in unison, voices overlapping in a messy but polite chorus as she disappeared back toward the kitchen.

once she was gone, you leaned back into the booth and turned toward the two newcomers, narrowing your eyes slightly. "what even are you two doing here?" you asked out loud, directing the question mostly at jungwon as you shifted to face him better. "and even better question, how'd you know we were here?"

jungwon didn’t answer immediately. instead, he gave you a knowing smile that made you instantly suspicious. he reached up and started playing with your hair, twirling a strand around his fingers before giving it the gentlest tug, just enough to tease but not enough to hurt.

"c'monnnn noona." he said, tilting his head with that soft, mischievous smile of his. he placed his elbow on the table and rested his cheek against his palm, eyes never leaving yours. "i'll always know where ya wander off to~."

you sighed at his words, shaking your head even though a smile had already found its way onto your lips. it was such a typically weird, oddly endearing jungwon thing to say, half joking, half serious in a way you could never quite decipher.

across the table, ni-ki made a gagging noise while sunoo rolled his eyes dramatically, but you just nudged jungwon lightly with your shoulder.

"you're so weird." you muttered fondly.

he only smiled wider.

sunoo let out a long, dramatic sigh before finally giving up, his resistance visibly dissolving as he allowed ni-ki to do whatever he wanted. he settled back against the arm ni-ki had thrown around him, looking mildly inconvenienced but no longer fighting it.

"when'd you guys leave that dogpile you were making at home anyways?" sunoo asked, glancing lazily at the two younger boys.

"not that long after you and noona left." ni-ki replied easily. "the other hyungs brought up dare or dare, and then we decided that we value our lives and don't plan on embarrassing ourselves any sooner."

you physically cringed at that, shoulders scrunching up. honestly, it was your fault for suggesting dare or dare in the first place. a dumb, manic version of truth or dare where there was no safe option, only increasingly ridiculous dares that the older boys had immediately taken an insane liking to.

your fans wouldn't even begin to imagine the wildest things their biases could come up with under that game.

"don't remind me." you muttered, covering your face briefly with your hands. "i created a bunch of monsters for ever suggesting such a game."

right then, the restaurant waitress returned, carefully placing your drinks and the hotpot setup down on the table. steam curled up into the air almost immediately, carrying the rich, mouthwatering scent of broth and spices with it.

all four of you thanked her eagerly, practically leaning forward as she finished arranging everything. the moment she stepped away, you all dug in without hesitation, your mouths already watering at the sight of the amazing food.

the warmth of the steam hit your face as you reached for your chopsticks, and just like that the air between you four was replaced by laughter, teasing, and the comforting clatter of dishes shared between you all.

as you all eat, conversation flows as easily as the steam rising from the hotpot between you. the clatter of chopsticks against bowls mixes with laughter, overlapping voices, and the occasional dramatic complaint about someone stealing the last piece of meat.

ni-ki keeps reaching across the pot without warning, nearly knocking jungwon's drink over at one point, and sunoo immediately slaps his hand away with a sharp "yah". only for ni-ki to grin and do it again two seconds later. jungwon, ever the instigator in disguise, quietly slides a piece of tofu from sunoo's bowl to yours when sunoo isn't looking, then pretends to be innocent when sunoo notices.

"who took it?" sunoo demands, eyes narrowing.

you try to keep a straight face but fail miserably, your laughter giving everything away.

"betrayal." sunoo mutters dramatically, pointing his chopsticks at you like you've committed the greatest crime.

you lean back in your seat, laughing openly now, warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the bubbling broth in front of you. jungwon's shoulder brushes against yours again as he reaches forward for more vegetables, and ni-ki nudges your foot under the table just to annoy you.

"eat more noona." ni-ki says suddenly, pushing a slice of meat into your bowl without looking at you directly. "you're not eating as much nowadays."

you blink at him for a second before rolling your eyes, though you don't push it back.

"you acting like my parent now? i thought that was my role over you." you tease.

"i'm not." he replies. "i'm just your favorite."

sunoo gasps in mock offense. "excuse me?"

jungwon hums thoughtfully. "that title is clearly mine."

you watch them argue over something so ridiculous, your laughter softening into a quiet smile as you take another bite. the conversation never stops, jumping from practice stories to dorm mayhem to plans for dessert next door.

and somewhere between the teasing and the stolen bites and the way jungwon absentmindedly refills your drink before his own, you realize that this is what you love most.

just this.

just them.

just the four of you squeezed into a corner booth, sharing food and warmth while winter settles quietly outside the window.

at one point, you grow quiet.

your chopsticks slow, your chewing softer as your eyes drift from your bowl to the three of them. you watch jungwon animatedly explaining something with his hands, ni-ki interrupting him halfway through just to argue about a detail that doesn't even matter, and sunoo reacting to both of them like he's the only sane one at the table.

they nudge each other. they laugh too loudly. ni-ki steals from sunoo's bowl again. jungwon steals it back. and you just sit there for a moment, taking it in. the way they look so comfortable, so safe.

you can't help the small smile that forms on your lips.

you don't even realize you've been staring until jungwon glances at you. "why are you looking at us like that?" he asks suspiciously.

you blink, caught, and look down at your bowl for half a second before looking back up. "i'm just… glad you guys are in my life."

the words slip out naturally, softer than the noise around you.

and just like that, the table goes quiet.

sunoo pauses mid-bite. ni-ki freezes with his chopsticks hovering in the air. jungwon's expression shifts into something unreadable for a split second.

then, almost immediately—

"wow." ni-ki says, leaning back dramatically. "why are you being so sentimental?"

"did you hit your head earlier?" sunoo adds, narrowing his eyes playfully.

jungwon nudges your shoulder lightly. "so i am noona's favourite huh?"

you roll your eyes, cheeks warming despite yourself. "forget i said anything."

but even as they tease you, you feel it. under the table, ni-ki's foot bumps gently against yours, not playful this time but grounding. sunoo nudges your knee with his own, subtle and warm, and jungwon's hand squeezes your shoulder briefly before dropping back to the table.

"we're glad you're in our lives too." jungwon says casually, like it's nothing, but his tone is honest.

"yeah." sunoo adds, looking at you with a small, shy smile he tries to hide by reaching for his drink.

ni-ki shrugs like it's clear. "obviously."

they don't make a big show of it. they don't get overly emotional. but you can feel it in the way they look at you, in the way they sit just a little closer.

your smile widens, heart feeling impossibly full as the noise and teasing slowly resume around you.

and you think, maybe being their noona isn't just about appreciating them.

maybe it's about being appreciated too.

after an amazing and unexpectedly heartfelt meal together, the four of you bundled back into your jackets and stepped outside into the cool city air. the warmth from the restaurant clung to you for only a few seconds before the winter chill wrapped around your noses and fingertips, making all of you instinctively huddle a little closer together.

despite the cold, each of the boys were happily holding a cup of ice cream, courtesy of you. and it was absolutely not because ni-ki had dramatically threatened to scream his lungs out like a neglected child in the middle of the street if you didn't treat them. absolutely not.

"best noona ever." he had declared smugly the second he got his cup.

"manipulative." you had muttered under your breath, though you were smiling anyway.

now you stood under a glowing street lamp, its warm light casting a golden halo over the four of you as you gathered close together for warmth. you had come up a few coins short for your own cup, but the boys had immediately insisted you just share theirs. so there you were, leaning in every now and then to steal a bite from jungwon's spoon, or sunoo's, or even ni-ki's when he wasn't looking.

the air puffed out in little clouds when you laughed, your shoulders brushing, your arms occasionally bumping as you all tried to fit into the small circle of warmth you created yourselves.

you watched them quietly for a moment.

sunoo's cheeks were puffed slightly as he took a big bite. jungwon was blinking slowly, savoring his like he was at some five-star dessert place instead of on the side of the road. and ni-ki pretended to be cool about it but was very clearly enjoying every single spoonful.

their cheeks were slightly pink from the cold, hair tousled by the wind, eyes bright under the streetlight.

they looked so cute it physically hurt.

you felt that fondness rise in your chest again, filling you up until you thought you might actually burst. you wished, fleetingly, that you could freeze this exact moment forever. you wished you could take a picture of them right now, just like this.

ni-ki was standing on your right, lazily eating his ice cream, when he suddenly blinked in surprise.

because you had reached up and gently cupped his cheek.

his skin was cold from the air, but warm beneath your palm, and you stroked your thumb softly over the roundness of it, unable to stop yourself.

"look at you." you cooed, voice syrupy and fond. "my baby's grown so much. you look so cute eating your ice cream."

ni-ki froze and his ears turned red and then his cheeks. he coughed awkwardly, nearly choking on his ice cream. "i'm a grown-ass man." he muttered, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as he avoided your eyes.

you shook your head immediately. "nope. you're my baby."

jungwon and sunoo both gasped dramatically.

"nonnaaa," sunoo whined, leaning into your other side. "what about ussss?"

"yeah," jungwon added, pretending to pout. "are we not your babies too?"

you burst out laughing at the sight of all three of them suddenly competing for your affection, their tall frames bending slightly toward you as if trying to fit under your attention.

"come here~" you laughed, voice overflowing with happiness.

you stretched your arms out and pulled them into as tight of a hug as your smaller frame could manage. it was messy and unbalanced and half of ni-ki's ice cream almost tipped over, but none of you cared. their arms came around you almost immediately, warm and solid and protective in a way that made your heart ache.

their laughter mixed together, blending into one sound that felt like home. you kept cooing at them shamelessly, calling them your precious angels, your babies, your boys, ignoring their embarrassed protests.

"this is nice." jungwon laughed softly into your hair.

"this is so cringe." ni-ki mumbled, though he didn't pull away.

sunoo tightened his arms around you just a little more.

standing there under the street lamp, surrounded by cold air and warm bodies and melting ice cream, you realized something.

being their noona was a rollercoaster.

it was loud and exhausting and chaotic. it meant dogpiles and teasing and migraines and being bullied out of your own peaceful dinners. it meant worrying about them and scolding them and sometimes feeling like you had three oversized children attached to your hip.

but it also meant this.

it meant warm shoulders and shared desserts. it meant quiet reassurance in practice rooms and loud laughter in restaurants. it meant being looked at like you mattered, like you were theirs just as much as they were yours.

and honestly?

you think you won at life by being so.

author's note: ya this took way too long to come out OOP. sigh i love the maknae line sm. i had different plots but i couldnt do them cuz of the writing limit (no thanks to tumblr haish) so i'll save them for another time. kinda wish i wrote this better but i was limited with time. thank you all for being so patient with me. also ngl when i wrote in the last author note that i would write about some 'big fight' i may or may not have half hearted just thrown that out without thinking much and then a lot of u guys became excited for it and then i was like omg how and where am i gonna fit that in XD so i just threw it in here with wonnie hope that's alright TT also this i am going to be on an hiatus from writing until further notice, just until im done with exams, but i'll still be lingering on tumblr and my ask box is always open :)

thank you for reading! reblog, like and comment if you liked this!

(づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

[ID: Two S-Classes That I Raised versions of a meme redraw. In the first, Han Yoojin says sadly, "Guys…. I have something I need to confess. I regressed from five years in the future because Yoohyunie died to save me and his body is still out there going cold in the snow." The view cuts to Bak Yerim and Han Yoohyun (and Chirpie and Peace) looking horrified. Bak Yerim is holding a gay flag and wearing an "i <3 trans" shirt; Han Yoohyun is holding a cake with "I heart noona" on it in trans colors. Behind them are banners that say "Gay is Okay! (Anyone other than the Seseong Guild Leader is fine)".

In the second, Han Yoojin looks serious and worried as he covers his face and says, "There's something I need to tell you... I... I like men." Sung Hyunjae, wearing a birthday hat, happily says, "Oh, I'm aware." Behind him is a banner that says "I know you travelled from five years in the future, presumably because your brother died," and he's holding a balloon that says "You are thirty years old".

taglistᝰ.ᐟ @starry-eyed-bimbo @vixialuvs @justaquarium @dark-moon-light02 @deobitifull @minjeong28 @wonzzziezzzz @wonsohl @psychicyouthfox @honeyfever @strayy-kidz @bloomiize @tunafishyfishylike @jaehaki @ihearteatingxo @songbyeonkim @sol3chu @mo0neng3ne @strxwbloody @hii01mii @merwdusa @dorrissakurada @lycxee @frequentlykit @heeenha6484 @sjakewrld @stwrlightt @parkjjongswifey @haneulhee @fr34k4c1dr41n @cozyre @vwricky @nyxtwixx @nuggets4lifers @yunkiconico @mynameis-rosie1 @leeknowslefteyebrow @babygguk98 @noiiny @horijiro

──

you don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing until the number on the page blurs in front of your eyes. the red ink bleeds through the letter like it’s been branded there on purpose, like it’s taunting you. bold, underlined, and cruel: payment past due. the amount is higher than you thought. higher than last month. higher than what’s sitting in your checking account—and your savings? nonexistent. your fingers twitch around the edges of the paper, and you stare at it for a few seconds longer, as if maybe if you look hard enough, the numbers will shrink, change, disappear entirely.

but they don’t.

your hands move slowly, almost disconnected, as you place the letter down on the edge of the kitchen counter. the paper crinkles beneath your fingertips, the sound sharp in the quiet of the apartment. you rake your fingers through your hair, dragging your nails gently across your scalp, trying to ground yourself—trying not to panic. it’s not working.

you don’t have time for this. not now. not with finals looming, two shifts left this weekend, and rent due in five days.

the sound of approaching footsteps makes you flinch.

“everything okay?” nari’s voice is soft, cautious, like she already knows the answer. she probably does. she always does.

you don’t look at her. not yet. you feel her presence behind you, hovering by the counter, hesitating. she picks up the letter carefully, and you hear her breath catch as her eyes scan the contents. there’s a beat of silence before she speaks.

“it’s more than last month,” she says, barely above a whisper.

you nod, still not meeting her eyes. your throat feels dry, your heart pounding behind your ribs like it’s trying to escape. the shame tastes bitter in your mouth.

“i can’t pay it,” you finally say, voice flat. “i barely made it through last month’s bill. and now they’ve added more fees.”

it’s not new. this has been happening every few months. random charges. late penalties. service increases you never agreed to. and no matter how many hours you work or how much sleep you lose, it never seems to be enough. you thought you were managing. thought maybe you were finally getting ahead, even just a little. but here it is—proof that you’re still drowning.

nari places the letter back down and moves to stand beside you. she doesn’t speak right away. her eyes flick toward you, soft with concern. she’s been your roommate for over a year now—someone you met through a shared thread on social media venting about overpriced meal plans and the bullshit cost of dorm laundry. back then, you were both strangers trying to navigate the mess of college life with nothing but broken bank accounts and coffee-stained syllabi.

now, she feels like family.

you’ve always admired how gentle she is, how thoughtful. she worries without smothering, helps without asking, gives even when she barely has enough for herself. you hate how easily she sees through you.

“i’m so sorry, y/n,” she says gently. “let me help. i mean it. just this once.”

you squeeze your eyes shut. you’ve had this conversation before. more than once. every time the bills show up with too many zeroes or your bank app sends another low balance alert, she offers. she always offers. and you always refuse.

because this is your responsibility. your education. your choice.

you never wanted to drag her into the mess you made just trying to survive.

“nari, no. it’s fine,” you say, brushing it off the same way you always do, even though nothing about this feels fine. “i’ll figure it out. i’ll… find another job or something.”

another job. the words sound ridiculous even as they leave your mouth. you’re already balancing two. your body aches at the thought of adding a third, your schedule stretched so thin it feels like one missed alarm could unravel everything.

nari doesn’t argue. she just stands there, looking at you with wide, worried eyes that say more than her words ever could.

you turn away.

you don’t want to see that look. don’t want to see the guilt in her expression or the way her lips part like she’s about to say something she knows you won’t let her finish. instead, you press your palms flat to the cool countertop and try to slow your breathing.

you can’t keep doing this. living check to check. sacrificing sleep, time, your sanity—only to still come up short.

“let me help find you one, y/n. at least let me do that…” her voice was quiet but firm, laced with the kind of gentle urgency that made it hard to ignore. she pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down beside you, her knees bumping yours softly as she reached for your hands.

her fingers curled around yours without hesitation—warm, grounding, comforting in a way that made your chest ache.

“you’ll get out of this before you know it,” she said, her thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “just hang on a little longer.”

the words should’ve felt like encouragement. to someone else, maybe they would have. but to you, they barely registered. her voice echoed distantly in your ears, dulled by the weight pressing down on your shoulders. you wanted to believe her. you really did. but there was only so much hope could do when your brain felt like it was unraveling thread by thread.

you were tired.

not just physically—though that part never seemed to go away—but mentally, emotionally, in a way that left you hollow at the edges. your thoughts were messy. loud. overwhelmed with numbers and due dates and rejection emails you didn’t have the energy to open.

you’d always wanted more for yourself. a degree. a real future. stability. success. the version of adulthood that didn’t involve counting coins at the bottom of your purse to buy groceries. being able to chase something you loved without sacrificing everything just to survive.

and yet… here you were. still stuck. still drowning.

“i’ll talk to my friends,” nari added, her voice picking up as she stood again. “i’ll ask around, see if any of their jobs are hiring. you don’t have to do this alone, okay?”

you blinked up at her, too tired to protest, too drained to offer anything back. you barely nodded.

she didn’t wait for an answer. instead, she gently tugged you to your feet and led you toward your room, her hands guiding you like muscle memory.

“just hurry,” she said over her shoulder, already halfway down the hall. “get ready before you’re late.”

you let the door close behind you, the soft click echoing in the quiet space, and leaned back against it for a second too long—breathing in slow, like maybe it would help ease the burning behind your eyes.

but it didn’t.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

you can’t hear yourself think anymore. the noise presses in from every direction—muffled conversation, the beep of the register, shoes skidding across tile, the mechanical whirring of the blender as it screams through another drink. the scent of syrup, espresso, and sweat mixes into something you’re far too familiar with by now. it clings to your clothes, seeps into your hair, follows you home every night and lingers even after you’ve scrubbed your skin raw.

your apron feels too tight around your waist. the name tag keeps flipping over, catching on your shirt. your hands ache from repetition. your back stings from bending, twisting, reaching for things without stopping. your legs burn, but you keep standing. because if you stop—just for a second—you don’t know if you’ll start again.

you’ve lost count of how many customers you’ve helped. they blur together—faces that don’t really look at you, names that repeat too often, voices that never say please. someone spilled a drink ten minutes ago and just stared at you like it was your fault. someone else snapped when you misunderstood their order and then smiled like it never happened. you’re used to it. too used to it.

the blender screams again, and you find yourself zoning out, eyes on the flashing light of the machine, ears ringing. you place a sweaty cup down on the counter just as your coworker brushes past you, muttering something, her voice barely registers.

“we’re out of cold brew, can you let the manager know?” she says, breathless.

you nod without thinking and duck into the back, weaving past crates of milk and mop buckets that haven’t been moved since your last shift. you find her—your manager—hovering near the inventory shelf, tablet in hand, expression unreadable. she looks up when she hears you but doesn’t say anything. just waits.

“we’re out of cold brew again,” you say softly.

her sigh is immediate. clipped. already annoyed. “i told the morning crew to prep more.”

“they didn’t,” you reply, just as soft.

she exhales again and gives you a glance that feels like a warning. “make a new batch. and try to keep the line moving—we’re backed up out there.”

you hesitate, shifting your weight from foot to foot, unsure if now’s a good time. but you don’t have a choice. not really.

“hey,” you begin, voice lighter than you feel, “i was wondering… if you had any extra shifts next week? i could take one. or two. anything that opens up, i’ll take it.”

you see it the moment her expression changes. not enough to be obvious, but enough that you feel it in your gut. she blinks at you once, slow. “you already have four shifts on the schedule.”

“i know,” you say quickly. “i just… if anyone drops or calls out—”

“i’ll let you know if something comes up,” she interrupts, sharper now. “but we’re fully staffed right now. you’re already lucky to have the hours you do.”

lucky.

that one stings.

you nod like it doesn’t bother you. “okay. thanks anyway.”

you turn back toward the front before she can see the heat crawl up your neck. the shame, the frustration, the quiet burn of helplessness that never seems to leave you alone. it coils tight in your chest as you slide back behind the counter, the overwhelming noise greeting you like a wave to the face.

you move through the orders on autopilot—pour, cap, swipe, pass. your body knows the motions. it always does. even when your brain doesn’t catch up. your arms are heavy. your thoughts are too loud.

your phone buzzes in your apron pocket.

technically, you’re not supposed to check it during a shift. but you do anyway, slipping your hand inside just enough to pull it out, eyes flicking to the screen beneath the counter.

nari: i have something to tell you.

you pause.

your breath catches in your throat.

the message is short. way too short. there are no emojis, no dramatics, no little additions she usually throws in to make you laugh. it’s clean. intentional. unsettling.

you type back fast.

you okay? what’s up?

your fingers hover over the screen, waiting. no immediate reply. no typing bubbles. just silence.

you slip your phone back into your apron, heart racing now—not from caffeine or exhaustion but from something else. dread, maybe. anxiety. it curls low in your stomach and spreads like smoke, slow and sickly.

the hours bleed together until they don’t feel real anymore. it’s like you blinked and suddenly the sky was dark, the register was silent, and your shift was over. you don’t even remember clocking out. your body moves on instinct as you grab your things, slinging your bag over one shoulder, feet dragging slightly with every step. you’re too tired to even complain out loud. exhaustion sits heavy on your shoulders, weighing down every bone like bricks. every joint aches. your eyes sting from the fluorescent lights. your muscles are tight, sore, stretched too far. and the worst part is knowing you’ll have to do it all again tomorrow.

the walk home is a blur. you barely register the passing cars or the hum of traffic. your legs are on autopilot, your thoughts too noisy to settle into anything coherent. by the time you reach your building, your fingers fumble with the key from how badly they’re shaking—whether from fatigue or stress, you’re not sure.

the moment the front door swings open, you’re greeted by a sudden, high-pitched sound that makes you flinch.

“oh my god, y/n!”

nari’s voice rings out before you even step fully inside. she appears from around the corner, practically bouncing on her feet as she rushes toward you with wide eyes and a wild grin.

“i think i’ve secured something for you!” she announces proudly, reaching to help you with your things without waiting for permission. your bag slides off your shoulder with her help, and she carefully sets it down on the couch before turning to face you again.

you blink at her, too tired to match her energy, voice low and worn. “how so?”

the contrast between your tone and hers is stark—hers bright and excited, yours soft, raspy, touched with exhaustion that even you can hear.

“okay, so,” she starts, already walking toward the kitchen like she’s been waiting all day to spill this. “i was talking to one of my classmates earlier—casual stuff, whatever—and she would not shut up about this app she’s using and this guy she’s obsessed with on it.”

you follow her slowly, the smell of something warm and savory pulling you forward. dinner is already set out, steam curling up from the bowls on the counter. she’s cooked again. you don’t even have the energy to thank her properly, but it sits in your chest like a quiet comfort.

“she said it’s this platform where you can post content—videos, mostly—and people follow you, tip you, subscribe to see more. apparently, it’s easy money if you know how to catch attention,” nari continues, grabbing utensils and placing them gently next to your bowl.

you lean against the counter, brows slightly furrowed as you try to keep up.

“what kind of videos?” you ask slowly.

and that’s when she pauses.

her hands still for a second, and you notice the subtle way her eyes flick to the side—toward the fridge, the floor, anywhere but you. she busies herself wiping down a clean countertop, her mouth tight, like she’s carefully choosing what not to say.

the silence stretches just a little too long.

you narrow your eyes. “nari?”

she still doesn’t look at you, her fingers now fiddling with the corner of a napkin that doesn’t need adjusting.

and that’s when you know—whatever she’s about to suggest, it’s not exactly a regular part-time job.

you don’t say anything. not at first.

you just watch her fidget—her hands smoothing the same wrinkle over and over again, her mouth parting like she wants to say something but can’t figure out where to start. her excitement from earlier has dimmed slightly, not completely gone, just… more careful now. the shift is subtle but it’s there, and you feel it tighten something in your chest.

your voice is quieter this time. gentler. “what kind of videos, nari?”

she glances up at you for a split second, then looks away again, reaching to stir a pot that isn’t even on the stove. she’s stalling.

finally, she exhales, turning back to you with both palms pressed to the counter.

“okay, so… don’t freak out.”

you stare at her.

“it’s… kind of a subscription thing,” she says, slow and cautious. “like, you post content—just whatever you’re comfortable with—and people tip you for it. sometimes a lot.”

you don’t speak. not yet. you just let her keep going.

“my classmate told me she made almost five hundred dollars in one weekend. literally just from one post. and this guy she follows? apparently he makes thousands. like, thousands. maybe even millions.”

your mouth is dry.

“what kind of content?” you repeat, even though you already know the answer.

nari bites her lip. her eyes finally meet yours. “sexy stuff,” she admits. “but it doesn’t have to be all out. it can be suggestive. artistic. faceless, even.”

you blink at her. once. twice.

the silence between you stretches until it’s not silence anymore—it’s tension. thick and heavy, sitting right in the center of the kitchen with both of you tiptoeing around it.

“it’s not as intense as it sounds,” she adds quickly. “she said she started small. built her page up over time. and no one from school found out. not even her roommates.”you sink into one of the kitchen chairs, your arms resting limply in your lap. you don’t say anything yet. you’re not even sure what you feel.

nari’s eyes soften as she watches you. “i know it sounds… out there. but i just thought—i don’t know, maybe it’s something you could look into. just to hold you over until things get better.”

you nod, but it’s slow. not agreement—just acknowledgment.

you’re too tired to argue. too drained to pretend the idea isn’t already crawling under your skin, planting itself somewhere dangerous.

because the truth is, you’ve heard of it. everyone has. whispered about in late-night dorm conversations, on private stories, in anonymous confessions posted on spam accounts. girls making rent money in a weekend. boys going viral for being faceless and filthy and addictive.

you never imagined doing it yourself.

but then again… you never imagined being this broke, either.

you stare at your untouched bowl of food, heart thudding softly in your chest.

you’re not disgusted. not even shocked.

you’re just… thinking.

and that scares you more than anything else.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

you tell yourself you’re just looking.

that’s it.

just a little more scrolling. just a few more profiles. you’re not doing anything. you haven’t made an account. you haven’t posted. you haven’t committed to anything except curiosity, and that—well, that’s harmless, right?

you open your laptop again. it’s sometime past midnight. your room is dim, the only light coming from your screen and the soft amber glow of the lamp tucked in the corner of your desk. it casts everything in that moody, late-night hue that makes the whole world feel quieter. heavier.

you pull your knees up to your chest, the blanket draped loosely over your shoulders as the homepage loads. it’s different now. you’re not looking aimlessly anymore. you know what to search for. you type top creators, and a list appears almost instantly.

you click one.

@heefreakshow. verified. 5.2 million subscribers.

his profile loads, and it’s exactly what you expect. polished, but not too polished. his display photo is somewhat dark and grainy, a half-lit frame of his bare chest, chin tilted up just enough to be teasing without giving anything away. the banner across the top reads: “i don’t just talk dirty. i make you feel it.”

his content is locked, but the previews aren’t.

you hover for a moment, your thumb pausing above one of the thumbnails before tapping it without thinking. the video opens in a small window, looped, muted at first, but it doesn’t matter—what pulls you in is the way he fills the frame. it starts with a soft hum of music, low and bassy, vibrating faintly through your speakers as the camera tilts upward from a dark-lit bed.

his chest appears first—broad, smooth, glowing faintly under the moody blue light. he’s shirtless, his skin flushed, breathing slow but deep. the camera dips, revealing his thighs spread wide and relaxed, and the hard, unmistakable bulge straining through his pants. your breath catches. the fabric looks tight—too tight—like it’s fighting to contain him. you can almost feel the pressure through the screen.

his hands trail over his torso, slow and lazy, fingers dragging along the curves of his stomach, tracing the line of muscle before resting on the waistband of his pants. his face isn’t fully visible—just the faintest shadow of his jaw, a teasing sliver of his bottom lip. the only thing clearly captured is his hair: pink, messy, soft-looking and slightly damp, like he’s just run his hands through it too many times.

and then he moves.

his fingers slip down, unbuttoning his pants with quick, practiced ease. the zipper lowers with a soft click, and he pushes the fabric down just enough for his cock to spring free, already hard, tip flushed and leaking as it rests against his abdomen. his breath stutters slightly, chest rising as he wraps his hand around himself, stroking slow—deliberate, like he’s savoring it. he tilts his hips toward the camera, giving you a better view, and you swear he’s looking straight at you even though you can’t see his eyes.

his voice comes in a beat later—low, raspy, thick with arousal.

“i couldn’t help myself, baby…”

you feel something warm twist in your stomach. the words feel too direct, too personal. his pace quickens as precum beads at the tip, slicking over his fingers as he groans, deep and breathy, like it’s pulled straight from his chest.

his other hand rises, trailing over his stomach until it reaches his chest, fingers pinching at one nipple as his hips twitch upward. the reaction is instant—a quiet moan spilling from his mouth as his head tilts back slightly, lips parted in pleasure.

“fuck…” he breathes out, barely audible between sharp inhales. “i want you here with me, baby…”

you freeze, the weight of the moment crawling down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

you scroll down to the next name on the list.

@jayafterhours. verified. 5.3 million subscribers.

his banner is simple—black background, sharp white font. his bio reads: “don’t waste my time unless you can take it.”

you don’t hesitate. you click.

the video loads instantly, and the difference between him and the last profile is immediate. there’s nothing soft about it. no slow lighting, no teasing buildup. it opens straight into a scene already mid-motion—loud moans echoing through your speakers, fast and desperate, though none of them are coming from him.

the camera is perfectly framed, clearly placed on a desk, angled to capture everything without obstruction. a woman lies flat on her front, arms outstretched as her fingers curl over the edge of the wood. her legs tremble slightly, back arched, skin damp with sweat. behind her, jay moves with sharp, brutal rhythm—his hands gripping her hips like he owns them, fingers pressing deep into the flesh as he drives into her hard enough to rock the table beneath them.

“such a fucking slut, aren’t you?” he grits out, his voice low and full of gravel, each syllable landing like a slap.

his hand comes down suddenly to grip her ass, squeezing tight before delivering a sharp slap that makes her body jolt. the sound of skin meeting skin cracks through the room. she lets out a choked moan, broken and messy.

“d-don’t stop—j-jay!” she cries, voice high, shaking as her nails drag along the desk surface for something to hold on to.

but you barely register her.

your eyes stay on him.

he doesn’t look at the camera—not directly—but the angle captures enough. his head is tilted back slightly, the veins in his neck prominent, his jaw clenched. his lips are caught between his teeth, biting down like he’s holding something back. there’s a faint flush along his collarbone, sweat trailing down the side of his throat.

he isn’t shirtless.

somehow, that makes it worse.

he’s dressed in a crisp white button-down, slightly wrinkled now, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. a black tie hangs loosely around his neck, the knot crooked like it was tugged halfway through the scene. it swings gently with the movement of his hips, adding to the rhythm, the sound, the image of him fully in control without even needing to try.

there’s something terrifyingly composed about him. like he’s done this a thousand times. like nothing surprises him anymore. like the entire scene is unfolding exactly how he planned it.

and yet, despite the chaos, the noise, the cries echoing off the walls—you can’t stop looking at him.

you don’t hesitate when your eyes land on the next name.

@jakeoncam. verified. 5.5 million subscribers.

simple bio: “i like being watched.”

your heart skips slightly as you click on the preview, already familiar with the routine by now. and yet, nothing about this feels repetitive—each creator you've looked at so far has had their own way of pulling you in, but jake’s feels… different.

the screen fades in slowly, no music, no buildup. just the soft creak of bedsheets and the low, wet sound of friction. he’s fully on display, his body stretched across a dark comforter, shirtless, skin glowing with a light sheen of sweat. the camera is placed at a low angle, perfectly capturing the curve of his back as he grinds down onto a pillow with messy, desperate rhythm.

his blonde hair sticks to his forehead in damp strands, a few pieces plastered to his cheek. his eyes are shut tight, brows drawn in deep concentration, lips parted as he pants softly into the mattress. his hips roll in tight, fluid motions, the muscles in his thighs flexing as he presses himself down harder into the cushion.

“fuck… i’m gonna cum… fuck, baby…”

his voice is breathless—higher, whinier than the others—and it hits you unexpectedly. it’s not performance. it sounds real. wrecked. like he’s been holding back for too long and is just now letting go.

he gasps softly, his pace stuttering, body tensing as the pressure builds—but the clip cuts off just before the release, leaving you blinking at your screen with your chest tight and your legs shifting.

you don’t realize how long you’ve been holding your breath until it escapes you all at once.

and you don’t stop there.

you move onto the next one almost instinctively, driven more by something primal now. not even out of curiosity anymore—need. something about each of them feels increasingly personal, like they’re not just performers, but something else. something closer.

@hoononrepeat. verified. 5.3 million subscribers. “if it’s not messy, i don’t want it.”

you click, the motion smooth and practiced now. part of you knows you’re getting too deep, that this is becoming more than just research, but you don’t stop.

his video starts mid-motion.

the frame is tight, focused completely on him—sunghoon’s hand gripping his cock, already soaked and shining with cum, sliding along the length with slow, deliberate strokes. his chest is heaving, his abs flexing with each movement. the lighting is dark, moody, barely enough to cast definition over his frame, and yet it still highlights every shift of muscle.

a silhouette appears at the bottom of the screen—a woman, faceless, mouth parted and positioned perfectly beneath him. her head bobs forward as he pushes his cock into her mouth without hesitation.

he groans, long and drawn out, his voice rough like it’s scraped from the bottom of his throat.

“fucking hell…”

his hand buries in her hair, fingers curling tight as he guides her down, hips jerking forward sharply. the wet sound of it echoes faintly, almost drowned out by his ragged breathing. she gags softly, hands pressing at his thighs, but he doesn’t let up.

he’s focused. lost. unrelenting.

“take it,” he mutters, jaw clenched. “take all of it, princess…”

the words hit hard. not because of what he says, but how he says it—low, commanding, almost personal. like he knows you’re watching. like the words aren’t meant for her at all.

you feel your pulse thud somewhere low in your stomach. your fingers curl tighter around the edge of your laptop.

you should stop.

but you don’t.

@watchmesunoo. verified. 5.4 million subscribers.

his page is simple—light pastel banner, soft text, almost misleading at first glance. but when the preview loads, there’s nothing soft about it. it starts mid-action, no intro, no setup—just raw, unfiltered need. his body fills the screen, the lighting harsh enough to highlight the tension in his muscles, the sweat slicking down his chest in messy trails.

his hand holds a small vibrator—slim, silver, and humming at a steady pace as he presses it along the length of his cock. it’s already hard, flushed dark and leaking, twitching visibly each time the buzzing toy runs over his slit. he slides it slowly, teasingly, from the base to the tip, circling it around the head before dragging it back down again. his hips jerk, his thighs tightening under the pressure.

his face is in view. fully.

his cheeks are red, tear-streaked, lips trembling with every breath. wet hair clings to his forehead in dark strands, and his eyes are glassy—shiny with desperation, the kind that makes your chest tighten just watching. he looks completely wrecked. beautiful in a way that shouldn’t feel this intimate, like you’ve caught him in something far too private.

“fuck… noona…” he whines, voice high and broken as his fingers curl tight around the bed sheets. “let me cum… please—noona…”

his hand trembles slightly as he lowers the vibrator, pressing it to the base of his cock as his other hand slides upward, two fingers dragging through the mess that’s already smeared across the head. he rubs the tip quickly, desperately, almost like he’s punishing himself for how close he is. his back arches sharply, the line of his throat exposed, jaw slack as more tears spill freely down his cheeks.

“f-fuckkk—i’m cumming!” he cries out, voice cracking as his body jerks violently, hips lifting off the mattress.

you can’t look away.

his cock twitches hard in his hand, and a thick wave of cum spills over his fingers, dripping down in messy strands that coat his palm and smear over his abdomen. his chest heaves. his thighs shake. he doesn’t stop moving until his hand is completely soaked and his voice has faded into soft, hiccuping breaths.

you’re still staring, eyes wide, mouth parted slightly. the screen is glowing in the dark of your room, and all you can do is sit there, frozen, pulse pounding behind your ribs as the clip loops quietly again.

@wonsodirty. verified. 5.2 million subscribers.

his profile surprises you even more.

the name alone already catches your eye—bold, a little cheeky, a little misleading. you expect something bratty, maybe cocky, something playful or reckless. but when the preview loads, it’s none of that.

it’s quiet. intimate.

the camera is placed at a low angle, steady, fixed on soft bedsheets that shift with every subtle movement. the lighting is warm and dim, the kind that wraps everything in a golden hue and makes skin look like silk. there’s a soft rustling in the background, the sound of him breathing, uneven and slightly hitched.

he comes into frame slowly—first his legs, then his thighs, spread slightly apart as he settles against the headboard. he’s not doing much at first. just breathing. just existing. but even that feels heavy with tension, like something just below the surface is about to break.

he’s shirtless. not in a performative way. just bare. his chest rises and falls in shallow motions, skin flushed with heat, the faintest sheen of sweat glinting under the soft light. his hand moves slowly at first, fingers wrapped tight around the base of his cock, stroking with careful precision. it’s already hard, already leaking at the tip, the kind of arousal that’s been building for far too long.

you watch as he closes his eyes, biting down on his bottom lip, his brows knitting together like he’s trying not to fall apart too quickly.

then, he whispers something—so soft you almost miss it.

“feels so good…”

his voice is high, sweet, breathy in the most fragile way. and it’s real. not loud. not dirty. just pure and cracked with something raw.

his strokes stay slow, almost too slow, like he’s punishing himself for how sensitive he is. his hips twitch every time he passes over the tip, precum smearing down the shaft and making his hand glisten as he continues.

you can’t help but watch his face—how red his ears are, how hard he’s trying to keep his composure. you notice how his legs tense, thighs flexing every time he lets out one of those quiet, needy sounds.

his strokes get faster, hips starting to lift slightly off the bed, his thighs trembling beneath him. he looks like he’s trying to hold back. like he’s afraid of what’ll happen if he lets go too soon.

“i can’t… i c-can’t hold it, please…”

he cries out as his hand jerks up once, twice, and then his entire body stutters. his back arches just slightly, his mouth dropping open in a silent gasp as ropes of cum spill over his fist, painting across his stomach in messy spurts.

his breathing turns shaky. his head tilts back against the pillow, eyes fluttering, lips parted as a tiny, breathless whimper escapes him.

the clip ends with his fingers still curled tightly around himself, his chest rising fast, his body twitching as he comes down—wrecked and glowing and silent.

you move onto the last profile.

@nikiuncensored. verified. 5.6 million subscribers.

the name alone already tells you everything you need to know. it feels reckless. raw. unapologetically bold in a way that makes your pulse skip without warning. you hesitate only for a second before clicking on the preview.

the video starts without ceremony—no soft intro, no teasing buildup. just action. the camera is low, placed somewhere near the base of the woman’s stomach. you can’t see her face, not even her chest—just the lower curve of her abdomen rising and falling with every sharp breath she takes. her thighs tremble faintly at the edges of the frame, knees slightly parted, twitching every time his mouth presses in.

but she’s the background.

your eyes go straight to him.

ni-ki comes into view slowly—his shoulders first, broad and tense, then his head, tipped slightly as his mouth lowers between her legs. his tongue flicks upward in tight, rhythmic strokes, wet and steady, circling over the clit with agonizing precision. the movement is deliberate. practiced. his lips part to suck softly, then flatten again as he switches pace, building her up in waves.

his fingers move with the same energy—two of them disappearing inside her only to pull out again, slick and glistening before they’re thrust back in with a soft squelch that echoes in the low hum of the room. the air is heavy. the lighting is dim, warm enough to cast shadows over the sharp line of his jaw, the flushed curve of his cheeks.

“fuck…” he breathes, voice strained with something between amusement and awe, “you’re so fucking wet…”

he groans as he presses in harder, his mouth practically consuming her now, lips wrapped fully around her clit as he sucks with loud, messy slurps. the sound is obscene, echoing in the quiet room—wet and desperate and hungry.

his eyes flutter shut, like he’s savoring the taste. like he could stay there all night and never come up for air. his free hand curls around the outside of her thigh, gripping tight, keeping her in place as his tongue works mercilessly. her moans are loud, cracked and high-pitched, but you barely register them. all you can hear is him—groaning, gasping, devouring.

he moves his head side to side slightly, mouth still latched to her clit, and the slurping sound becomes louder, wetter. his fingers curl up inside her and she screams, hips jerking toward his face, but he doesn’t back off. if anything, he doubles down.

he growls, low in his throat, sending vibrations straight into her core as his grip tightens.

and you’re stuck there—watching the way his mouth works, the way his muscles flex with every movement, the way he loses himself in it like it’s the only thing that matters.

the preview cuts off just as his lips part again, tongue dragging in a long, slow lick up her slit like he’s far from done.

and god—you believe it.

you’re completely breathless.

your chest rises and falls in slow, uneven waves, lungs struggling to catch up with the flood of emotions coursing through your system. your skin is warm, flushed, your fingers twitching faintly from where they rest on your thighs. everything inside you feels electric. overstimulated. wired with something you can’t quite name—but it’s there.

now, finally, you understand.

you understand why this app—the one you opened on a whim—could stir something so heavy inside you. why it’s been sitting in the back of your mind like a spark waiting for oxygen. it’s not just sex. it’s not just content. it’s control. attention. power.

you shift slightly where you sit, the damp heat between your thighs impossible to ignore. your panties are soaked, your breath shallow, and despite the way your body aches, you force yourself to sit up straighter. you push the thoughts down, shake your head, blink yourself back into focus.

you’ve battled with yourself long enough.

without giving yourself the space to overthink it, your finger moves. you press the button—create account—and watch the screen change, your heart racing with each small confirmation box that pops up in front of you.

you type quickly. no hesitation now. @babydollx0.

the name feels soft. flirty. safe.

but the next part isn’t so easy.

you hesitate when it asks for a profile photo. you scroll through your gallery—old pictures, half-deleted mirror selfies, nothing that feels right. nothing that says what you want it to say. nothing that matches the version of yourself you’re about to become.

you toss your phone onto the bed and push off the covers, the sheets falling away from your legs in soft folds as you rise to your feet. your room is still quiet, dimly lit by the lamp in the corner, casting soft golden shadows across your walls.

you move quickly.

your drawer slides open with a soft clatter as you dig through the scattered mess inside—tangled bras, folded shorts, tucked-away lace. your fingers pause when they find it: a tiny, black thong. the skimpiest one you own. barely fabric at all.

you strip out of your shirt first, letting it fall to the floor without a second thought. the cool air hits your bare chest, making your nipples pebble instantly. there’s no hesitation now. no shame. just movement.

you tug the thong on slowly, adjusting it at your hips, letting the waistband hug your curves as you step in front of the mirror.

you pose without overthinking it—back facing the mirror, head turned slightly over your shoulder, your front angled just enough to tease without revealing everything. the lighting does the rest. it casts your silhouette in soft shadows, highlighting the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, the swell of your hips. everything else remains hidden—blurred in the low glow of the lamp.

it’s just enough to make someone want more.

you lift your phone, frame the shot, and for the first time in a long time…you feel powerful.

you set your phone carefully on the edge of your desk, adjusting the angle until it captures only what you want it to—the lower half of your body, your thighs parted slightly, your stomach rising with shallow breaths. your face is out of view. there’s no light beyond the soft glow of your desk lamp, and the shadows cast across your skin make everything look muted, quiet, secretive.

your thumb hovers over the record button, trembling slightly. you're not nervous because you don’t know what you’re doing. you’re nervous because you do.

your mind is cluttered with noise. doubt swims through you in thick waves, crashing hard against the edges of your resolve. your chest feels tight. you can feel the fear circling in your gut, whispering things like what if you regret it? what if someone finds out? what if you can't take it back?

but the fear isn't loud enough to drown out the truth.

you think of the letter on the counter, the rent due in less than a week, the account notifications warning you that your balance is low—too low. you think of the long shifts, the missed hours, the denial from your manager. you think about how you’re out of options.

and then you press the button.

the recording begins. the red icon glows faintly in the corner of your screen. it’s happening now. you’ve officially started.

your breath catches as your hands move instinctively, dragging down the curve of your stomach with a slow, deliberate rhythm. you let your fingers tease the hem of your thong, playing with the waistband, pulling it slightly before letting it snap back into place. you don’t say a word. there’s no script for this. you let the action speak for itself.

you shift in your seat, angling your body just enough for the camera to catch the soft curve of your ass, arching your back to deepen the shadow and leave the details to the imagination. it’s subtle. sensual. controlled.

then, after a pause that makes your heart pound harder, you bring your fingers to the front of your thong. with one smooth motion, you pull the fabric aside.

just enough to reveal yourself.

your folds glisten, slick already gathered between them from the buildup of watching, waiting, and wanting all night. you’d been trying to ignore it. trying to focus on the mechanics of the process. but your body never really forgot. not after what you’d seen. not after the way they sounded.

your fingers move without hesitation now, sliding between your folds and gathering the wetness. you exhale slowly, letting the feeling settle, letting the camera keep rolling. your touch is gentle at first—small, slow circles around your clit, nothing too fast. you don’t want to rush. you want it to look natural. sensual. you want it to feel good.

and it does.

your body shifts. your back arches slightly. your thighs tense. your fingers grow bolder, faster. not by much—just enough to feel it start to build. your breathing grows uneven. soft, audible. you hold back the sound in your throat, biting your lip hard enough to feel the pressure.

and then you think of them.

the teasing smirk from the one who never broke eye contact. the groans that scraped low and rough from behind clenched teeth. the soft, desperate whimpers that bled through clenched fists and sweat-slick sheets. the sharp snap of a hand against skin. the steady rhythm of fingers soaked to the knuckle.

you remember the flushed cheeks. the breathless pleas. the soaked mouth of someone who looked ruined just from giving. the thighs that trembled under the weight of restraint. the tongue that moved with unshakable precision, curling into someone’s heat like it was instinct—like it was art.

your fingers speed up.

your hips jerk slightly, your body reacting without permission. you tilt your head back, eyes fluttering shut as your clit pulses beneath your touch.

“fuck…”

the word leaves you in a low, broken whisper. it’s almost inaudible. almost too quiet to catch. but it’s there.

your chest rises with effort as you force yourself to stay quiet—to stay in control. nari is just a few feet away, asleep or scrolling in the room next door. you can’t let her hear. you can’t risk that. so you press your lips together tightly and breathe through your nose, letting your hand do the talking.

your fingers move in tighter circles. your stomach contracts. your legs pull in slightly as the pleasure curls deeper inside you, hot and electric. you don’t stop. you can’t stop. not now.

you don’t need to speak. the way your body moves is enough.

the video keeps recording, and for a second, everything else disappears—your exhaustion, your guilt, your fear. all of it fades into the rhythm of your own breathing, the slick sound of your fingers working between your thighs, and the realization that this isn’t just a performance.

it’s power.

and for the first time in a long time… it’s yours.

your fingers work faster now, soaked and steady, slipping in and out of your cunt with a rhythm that’s grown almost frantic. the sound of it—slick, wet, obscene—echoes low in the quiet room, barely masked by the rapid stutter of your breath. your body moves with instinct, hips rising to meet your hand, legs spread wide as you chase the heat that’s been coiling deep in your core since the moment the video started.

you start with two fingers, curling them up just right to press against the spot that makes your stomach tighten. your lips press into a thin, trembling line as you try to keep quiet, forcing yourself to muffle the moans that threaten to spill out with every thrust. your walls clench tightly around your fingers, greedy, hot, desperate for more.

and you give it to yourself.

you let out a ragged breath as you push in a third finger, the stretch making your thighs tremble. the pressure is overwhelming now—blinding, almost painful in the best possible way. you shift in your chair, back arching as you press your heels into the floor, legs falling open wider to give yourself more space. your body is flushed and burning, skin damp with sweat, nipples tight from the brush of cool air and lingering adrenaline.

your chest heaves as you move faster, harder, fingers curling deep into yourself as the pleasure builds fast and sharp like a scream stuck in your throat. your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut, and for a split second, you forget about the camera. you forget about the fear. you forget about everything but the feeling—

“fuck… oh my god…”

the words tear from your throat, broken and low, muffled by the force of your own clenched jaw. your legs start to shake, your body twitching with the effort to stay upright as your orgasm rushes up and crashes through you.

“fuckkk—i’m gonna cum… shit…”

your voice is higher now, cracked at the edges, as your hips jerk forward and your muscles seize. the pressure bursts all at once, your cunt clenching around your fingers as you gush hard, soaking your hand and the inside of your thighs. the release is hot, messy, completely overwhelming—wave after wave rolling through your body until you’re panting, twitching, slumped over the desk with your mouth open in a silent gasp.

your other hand scrambles toward your phone, shaking as you fumble to tap the screen. the camera is still recording—still capturing every shudder, every twitch, the flushed glow of your skin and the shine slicked over your thighs.

you end the video with one shaky movement, chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath.

your hand is drenched. your skin is burning. your thoughts are scrambled.

and you don’t hesitate.

you upload it raw, unfiltered, untouched.

you don’t trim the edges. you don’t add a caption. you don’t even blink before pressing the button.

you want it to speak for itself.

you want them to wonder.

you watch the screen as the upload bar slowly completes, your profile still blank, still new, still waiting to be discovered.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

the soft chirp of birds cuts through the stillness of morning, gentle and rhythmic, floating in through the cracks of your half-open window. golden sunlight pours across your sheets, casting long shadows along your floor, warm and soft against your bare legs. your body is sprawled out lazily across the mattress, limbs tangled in the fabric as your eyes flutter open slowly, blinking away the blur of sleep.

your room is quiet except for the persistent buzz of your phone vibrating on the nightstand beside you. it hums every few seconds, faint but constant, like it's trying to get your attention. you glance at it, brows furrowing slightly, but you don’t reach for it. not yet. your body still feels heavy with sleep and something else—something deeper.

you push the covers off your legs, the cotton sheets rustling as you sit up and stretch, your spine arching with a soft crack. you move slowly, stepping onto the cool floorboards and making your way toward the bathroom, your legs stiff, your joints still waking up with you.

just as you reach the door, nari’s voice floats out from the hallway, warm and familiar.

“good morning, girl,” she calls casually, emerging from her room with a yawn, her hair tied up messily and hoodie falling off one shoulder. she looks at you for barely a second before launching into what’s clearly been sitting on her mind.

“so,” she says, tone direct, “are you planning on making an account?”

you pause.

the words land heavier than you expect, and for a second, the hallway feels too quiet—like her question has taken up all the space. the thought hadn’t left your mind, not really. it was still there, tucked into the corner of your chest like something that needed to be dealt with eventually. she had brought it up before. multiple times. her voice always hopeful. her offers always kind. and you always deflected.

your throat tightens. not painfully—but just enough to make you hesitate.

you turn to look at her, your expression unreadable. the memory of last night creeps back in, vivid and electric. the video. your fingers. the way your breath had caught in your throat when you hit upload. the warmth that still lingered between your thighs. the weight of what it meant.

“i’ll look into it,” you say, voice hoarse. “but i don’t know, nari… does it really even work?”

she crosses her arms gently, leaning her shoulder against the wall. her gaze softens as she watches you.

“i can’t really speak from experience,” she says slowly, “but from what i’ve heard… it’s definitely something you should consider. especially with how much you’ve been struggling. i know it’s not what you’re used to. i know it’s different. but y/n… it’s real money. quick money. and you wouldn’t have to break your back for it.”

her voice stays gentle, but her words hit hard. your shoulders drop slightly, and her eyes flick down to your expression, reading you the way only she can.

“just think about it, okay?” she continues, her tone still light. “i’m heading out in a bit, but whatever you decide, just let me know. i can look around for other stuff too, if you don’t want to go that route.”

your chest tightens again—this time from emotion.

you don’t say anything. you just step forward and wrap your arms around her, pulling her in tight. the words rise up in your throat before you can stop them.

“thank you so much, nari,” you whisper. “what the fuck would i have done without you…”

your voice cracks on the last word. you bury your face in her shoulder and hold her a little tighter, your body warm against hers.

you don’t thank her enough.

not for the rent reminders. not for the quiet way she pretends not to notice when you come home late and fall asleep in your work clothes. not for the soft leftovers she always leaves out with a sticky note. not for the way she never once judged you when you admitted you were coming up short again.

she just showed up. over and over.

and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“i’ll always be here for you, y/n,” she murmurs, her arms wrapping tighter around your waist.

when you finally pull back, there’s a single tear running down your cheek. you wipe it away quickly, hoping she doesn’t notice—but she does. she always does. she doesn’t say anything this time, just gives you a gentle look before stepping away.

you clear your throat, trying to shake the emotion from your voice.

“you can go ahead,” you tell her softly. “i… i just have something to check really quick.”

she nods, disappearing into her room.

you stand there for a moment, your feet unmoving, the silence returning like a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. you exhale through your nose and turn around slowly, walking back into your room and closing the door behind you.

your phone is still buzzing on the nightstand.

and you’re finally ready to see what it has to say.

you close the door behind you and pause for a moment, letting your fingers linger against the wood. your room is quiet again, but it’s not the same kind of quiet as before. it’s weighted now—thicker, charged with something unspoken. your steps back to the bed feel heavier than they should. your body isn’t sore in the traditional sense, but there’s something beneath your skin that hasn’t left you since last night. like your muscles remember what you did. like your skin is still humming from the heat of it.

you sit on the edge of your bed, your blanket half-pulled down, the air cool against your bare legs. your phone is where you left it—face down on your nightstand, completely still. the buzzing that had filled the room earlier has stopped, like it’s holding its breath. waiting for you to be ready.

you reach for it slowly, with both hands, like you’re afraid you’ll drop it if you don’t steady yourself. the moment your fingertips brush across the screen, it lights up.

and everything changes.

1,462 new notifications. tips: +$1,951.76. new subscribers: +863.

you sit there, frozen, as the likes roll in by the second, stacking in waves across the screen. every few seconds, another tip comes in. ten dollars. twenty. fifty. a hundred. your balance is growing so fast it doesn’t feel real.

you open the comments, and the words hit you all at once.

“this is art. actual art.” “i’m obsessed.” “i came without even touching myself. that’s how real this felt.”

you read them with wide eyes, your thumb scrolling slowly, like dragging through honey. it’s too much to take in all at once. too many voices. too many people who’ve seen you now—really seen you—and want more.

you click over to your inbox. there are dozens of messages, all timestamped from the early hours of the morning. most of them are praises, offers, begging. a few are bold. graphic. unfiltered. and buried among them—at the very top, a verified profile—is the one that makes your entire body still.

@heefreakshow.

you’re completely taken off guard.

nothing could have prepared you for this—none of it. not the flood of attention. not the numbers still rising. and especially not him. not the quiet, effortless way one of the creators you watched last night—half in awe, half with your hand buried between your thighs—has now turned his gaze on you. messaged you. noticed you.

you stare at the notification like it might disappear. like maybe your phone glitched and it’s not really him. your thumb hovers just inches above the message, heartbeat loud in your ears, the weight of everything that’s happened pressing down on your chest.

and then—before you can overthink it—you press.

the message expands across your screen in one clean, perfect line.

god, you were so fucking hot. why don’t you let me see what more you’re capable of doing?

you go still.

your throat tightens. your lips part, but no sound comes out. your entire body feels like it’s pulsing—heat rising from your neck, crawling down your spine, settling low in your stomach. your eyes read the words once. then again. then again.

you’re speechless.

not because it’s crude—though it is. not because it’s confident—because of course it is. but because it’s him.

you sit there, phone trembling slightly in your grip, and all you can think about is how none of this would’ve happened if nari hadn’t pushed you. if she hadn’t looked you in the eyes and told you she believed in you. if she hadn’t said the words you were too afraid to say out loud.

you owe her everything.

because now? now you’re more than okay. you’re not just surviving—you’re starting. you’re in it.

and you have absolutely no plans of stopping.

the camera points to the suchwita set, visually the same save for the higher budget for props. the table is empty, its own host nowhere to be seen. through the screen, the audience is confused.

until they hear him.

"ah, suchwita," yoongi steps into frame with his tablet of information and sits on his designated chair. the crew from behind the cameras applaud loudly, causing the host to widen his eyes before hiding his face behind the tablet.

"yah, hajima, hajima!" yoongi swats at the camera and the crew erupts in laughter. his accent coming out roughly as he waves off the crew. his professional expression returns to finally start off his show again.

"it's been so long, did you miss me?" yoongi smiles towards his specific camera, "because I know i've missed being here. by the time this comes out, bts' new album 'arirang' will be released, so please give it a lot of love, because we all worked very hard on it." he unfolds the tablet to hold itself up on the table.

"now, before we introduce our first guest after bts' comeback, i'd like to say how this person has helped to shape bts to what it is now, and has been a constant ever since our debut."

"yah, just introduce me already!" a blurry shot of your figure can be seen covering your face in embarrassment at the amount of praise you're getting. yoongi laughs, hand on his stomach before turning back to his tablet.

"okay, okay," he scrolls up to glance at your information, "today's guest," yoongi smiles as he reads your name, his eyes flicking up to meet yours momentarily before focusing back on the tablet.

“a well-known global choreographer who has been one of the main choreographers for bts ever since their debut." yoongi gasps dramatically as if he were reading this information for the first time.

flashes of your practice videos show up on the screen; one of you teaching bts the choreography for the chorus of mic drop, then one of you guiding an american singer, then a picture of you together with bts during their final practice before their military service, suspiciously close to yoongi.

yoongi's eyes glance over your small note and he chuckles before even properly reading it.

“i've been wanting to be on suchwita ever since yoongi wanted to do it, but he said that me booking a table before the rest of his members would seem like favouritism.” he laughs again before standing up and inviting you to enter the frame.

smoothing out your outfit with your hand and holding your bag full of drinks with the other, you entered with an amused smile, walking over to your seat that's across from yoongi. you set your bag down, but you and yoongi stay standing.

without a second thought, you walk over to hug yoongi, which he happily reciprocates. yoongi momentarily stops himself a little before smiling at you as the two of you pull away.

videos of the boy group learning choreography from you pop up again, this time its a video of you laughing at the maknae line's antics as they crowd around the hyung line and spin around them as the hyungs take five.

the two of you pull apart and take your respective seats, “yoongi-ah, it's about time you have me on this show.”

yoongi smiles, “noona,” he tests the word. you chuckle slightly, a little caught off guard, “your appearance on suchwita has been held off for quite a while.”

“gee, I wonder why,” you rolled your eyes playfully, earning that gummy smile from yoongi again that you adore.

“you've been quite busy since our military service, isn't that right?” he crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. you nod with a smile, “yeah, i've gained a name internationally and during your guys’ temporary absence, i've had the pleasure of choreographing for other famous names in the industry,” you cross your legs as you explained with a proud smile, nervously adjusting your hair as you did so.

as you speak, the screen displays names of the artists that you've worked with, both in korea and overseas as well. the list of names is quite long, despite you only being away from bts for only a few years.

“ah, so you forgot about us? you have a different favourite group now?” yoongi leans his head on his hand, a smug smile on his face as you scoff, almost offended.

"please, you know no one could ever replace you guys for me. you're just too unforgettable." you chuckle softly, causing yoongi to cough, awkwardly looking away at your comment.

"right, so—" yoongi clears his throat to prepare for his next few sentences, "i'd just like to thank you for everything you've done for bts. people don't know this but you've been with us for very long and were always there every step of the way, even coming to our shows and polishing our choreographies for stage rehearsals."

"people also don't know that you've also helped with some of our solo career choreographies," he continued, which causes you to smile.

"um— just yours, actually."

yoongi freezes a little before smiling, looking at the floor for a little before looking back at you, "right, just mine."

pictures of you and yoongi pop up on the screen as he says this; one of you on stage telling him where to stand, one of the two of you in the studio, and another studio picture but it's one of you, watching as yoongi rehearsed the choreography in front of you.

"what im trying to say is, we all looked up to you because you're very hardworking. even for our new songs coming out, you've been working very hard on those too."

your ears turn a slight shade of red, and you notice yoongi's do too. "aish, min yoongi!" you stand up abruptly, turning to the crew, "yah, the show hasn't even started and already he's flustering me! and i haven't even had anything to drink yet!"

"hey! noona, sit down!" yoongi laughs, covering his face with his hands. you cross your arms and begrudgingly sit back down, "...can i introduce my drink now?"

yoongi turns to the camera, "yes, you can. we brought back my favourite part of suchwita, where guests bring their own drinks, usually alcohol. per noona's demand, we have some korean fried chicken to eat with your drink choice," yoongi says as the camera cuts to the table full of food from your favourite korean fried chicken place.

with help from yoongi, you both made quick work to unpack the two bottles of soju, a bottle of beer, a whole eight pack of yakult and two chilsung ciders.

"so, i brought all the things to make a yogurt soju," you smiled at the ingredients, cracking open the cold chilsung ciders as yoongi unwrapped the packs of yakult.

"yogurt soju is actually the first drink i shared with yoongi. I made it for him, that and somaek (soju+beer), which is why I also brought some beer just in case you wanted somaek instead." you smiled sheepishly as you unscrewed the soju bottles.

"why did you bring so much? you know that you're a lightweight, noona," yoongi practically complains, sighing frustratedly. you shrugged with a dorky smile, "oh, c'mon, i only brought enough for me to get tipsy at most."

yoongi rolls his eyes with a smile, remembering when you two shared a yogurt soju.

—

at first, you were super shy, not even really bothering to speak to them unless you were spoken to and to just teach them the dance and move on with your day. you had just started working with them, so you couldn't expect much.

until one day, hobi came up to you to compliment your dance and teaching style, saying your instructions were straightforward and simple enough for everyone to get it.

jungkook was quick to agree, and suddenly all of them were crowded around you, calling you 'noona' without hesitation.

slowly and surely, you began getting comfortable with everyone. gathering input from jimin and hobi, sometimes driving jungkook to school together with the hyungs and during promotions, you'd stick around to chat with the boys that hadn't taken pictures yet.

"yoongi-ah!" the 23 year old you called out to the freshly 21 year old yoongi. you had only been with the boys for about a year at this point, still trying to see if you could land a permanent job as their choreographer.

it was the weekend, and you had invited the hyung line over for drinks. during a conversation with yoongi, you had come to realise that the two of you hadn't drank together before, which was weird since the two of you had begun to get close.

"yes?" yoongi practically ran over as soon as you called his name, and you passed him the yogurt soju, "you up for a drink?"

"oh— um..." he shyly scratches the back of his neck and you clocked his sentence immediately. although yoongi was 21 in korean age, he still didn't have that much time to drink since he had to balance his idol life too, which made his tolerance pretty low, "ah, right! don't worry, there's like barely any soju in here. but you don't have to drink it if you don't want to, no pressure." you smiled softly, and yoongi's heart skips a beat.

he glances at namjoon, who seems to be just taking shots of soju with jin, while hobi simply nurses a beer. you, on the other hand, have another yogurt soju on the table for yourself.

with a little hesitation, he takes the drink from your hands and takes a sip, and you're right, it just tastes like yakult and chilsung. and it's pretty good.

throughout the rest of the night, yoongi tries to add a little more alcohol each time, trying not to overdo it. he even tried soju and beer together, since that was what you had moved onto drinking.

and ever since then, he never turned down any of your invitations to drink together.

—

"here, noona, let me help you make yours," yoongi stands up to help you, and you shake your head, "ah, no. it's okay, you don't have to—" your attempts to reach over to stop yoongi end when he gently grips your wrist, "yah, just let me do it."

you sigh, knowing that there's no changing his mind. you roll your eyes with a smile, "how's it like coming back to suchwita? must be surreal right?"

"that and bts as a whole, actually," yoongi fills both of your cups with ice. you smile as he makes your drinks for you. he makes quick work to pour the soju about halfway into the cups, then some yakult, and then finally the chilsung to top it off.

"the promotions have been pretty hectic. actually, everything has been pretty hectic; if i were to be honest," he sighs in frustration, and you smile sadly.

"I don't know how you manage to keep up with such cramped schedules," you tilted your head towards him as yoongi hands you your drink.

"yeah, well," yoongi glances up from his drink to make eye contact with you, "I have people that help me get through it," he smiles, before looking away. and suddenly to him the fried chicken on the table looks very interesting.

"ah, really? these people sound special." you tease as you hold up your cup, waiting for yoongi to cheers you. he shyly meets your eyes, "sure are."

clink!

—

"so," yoongi starts off as he places a few pieces of chicken onto your own plate as you help to take off the top of the chicken radish container, "when you started working with us, you weren't really a talkative person, right?"

"yeah, that's right," you chuckled a little, crossing your legs as you adjusted your sitting position, "it was a little after your debut when i was hired, and i didn't know anyone."

"i really hated meeting new people. i still do, but that's not the point," you shrugged with a smile. yoongi laughs, as if a memory suddenly popped up in his head. you tilted your head with a grin, "why?"

"i remember that everyone was insanely intimidated by you; even jin hyung, and he's only a year younger than you," yoongi says before taking a bite of the chicken that you helped to put on his plate. you gasped, "no they weren't!"

"seriously! everyone," yoongi deadpanned to the camera, "during the first few weeks of our debut, noona would come into the big hit studio with a black cap and sweat suits every single practice. it was terrifying. it was our first time seeing such a professional."

"it wasn't that bad," you thought over it again while chewing on a piece of chicken, "...okay well, when you combine that and the 'only-giving-you-guys-instructions-and-not-talking', I can maybe see what you guys mean."

"like i said," yoongi smiled smugly, "terrifying."

you rolled your eyes playfully, "yeah, yeah."

—

clink!

and there goes two shots of straight soju. you hold the bottle up to read the flavour that you honestly didn't care to look at when you bought it, "oh, this flavour is pretty good, no?"

"can we continue with the interview questions now? or are you planning to inhale that whole bottle?" yoongi winces with his head tilted, causing you to chuckle, "right, sorry. continue."

"anyways," yoongi passes a piece of chicken towards you since he had noticed that your plate was empty, "i've always wanted to ask this question, actually."

"oh, really?" you tilted your head with a smile, "and what question is that?"

"do you ever get tired of seeing the same seven people?" yoongi crosses his arms, almost proud of the question that he had thought of. you laughed loudly, covering your mouth as you did so.

"wow, you really—do you want me to answer this honestly?" you raised an eyebrow as you took a bite of your chicken.

"of course, that's what this show is for!" yoongi looks around at the crew with his arms open. you smile at his actions, before humming in thought as you chose your next words.

"promise you won't be offended?" you held up your pinky towards him, wiggling your finger with a teasing grin. yoongi raises an eyebrow in speculation, glancing at the cameras as if to ask the audience 'you seeing this?'.

hesitantly, yoongi inches closer to the table and interlocks his pinky with yours, "yeah, yeah. promise."

you chuckle, "alright, to be completely honest," you look around at the crew, who seemed just as interested in your answer as yoongi is, "...after a few years into my job, sometimes—yeah, i was a little tired of your guy's bickering. you guys were all stubborn in your own ways."

"yah..." yoongi smirks at the camera, a little shocked that you actually provided an honest answer.

"but," you continued, catching the attention of everyone in the room, "it wasn't tiring because it was the same seven people."

"then?" yoongi asks with a slight confused frown. you smile a little, knowing what words you wanted to say next.

"it was because it was you seven," you chuckled, "anyone who deals with you guys knows how tiring it gets when all of you are in the same room."

the crew members laugh, some of them nodding intensely while the rest state that they agree with you. yoongi pouts a little at the sudden noise, facing the staff that all seemed to take your side.

"so you do get tired, is what you're saying?" yoongi asks as you refill his drink with a smile on your face.

"i didn't say that." yoongi tilts his head in confusion.

"you said sometimes."

"well, yeah. i get tired of the bickering," you reached for your yogurt soju, "not the people." you took a sip from your glass with a satisfied smile.

the staff members chuckle, some of them giving small wow's at your answer.

yoongi stays silent, a little shocked at your words. then, when he realises the cameras are still rolling, he clears his throat.

"that's...a good answer. everyone, we have a dangerous guest here." yoongi grins as he gains a couple of laughs from the crew behind the cameras. you smile a little, "thank you, yoon."

"oh," yoongi is a little flustered at the nickname you had so easily called him in front of the cameras. this is how yoongi could tell you were starting to get a little tipsy. the crew gives a couple of aww's, flustering yoongi even more.

"right let's um—let's continue with the questions."

—

"noona?" yoongi calls out. no answer. he tilts his head in confusion. he sighs.

yoongi then calls out your name softly, raising his hand in front of you, and that seems to do the trick.

"hm?" you blink rapidly out of your trance and realise that yoongi is waving his hand in front of you. shit, did you just zone out on camera? god, you didn't remember your tolerance being this low.

you smile sheepishly, "sorry, what did you say?" you scratched your neck, feeling a little awkward. yoongi just smiles and waves it off, "yah, don't be sorry. I was just asking you a question and i lost you a little there," he chuckled slightly.

"ah really? what was the question?" in your peripheral vision, you noticed some of the crew members moving around a lot, most likely trying to get comfortable.

"well, the question was—and this is a brutal one, but which bts member is the best dancer? and a bonus one, who do you love hanging out with the most?"

you practically went silent. your eyes widened as you looked to the cameras in disbelief, "what?" you laughed a little at the question.

"hey," yoongi raised his hands in mock surrender, "these questions were the only ones provided by the staff. just saying," he smiles, still interested in your answer.

you shook your head with a smile, "these questions are mean, yoon." yoongi laughs while taking a sip from his drink, "don't hate the player, hate the game."

at his comment, you groaned before trying to think of an answer. your mind went through all seven members before one of the staff members temporarily pauses the shoot.

"ah, sorry," one of the managers raises their hand behind the camera, which catches the attention of both you and yoongi, "but can we fix your guys' mics? it's cutting off a little bit."

you and yoongi share a glance of confusion before you nodded, "oh, yeah. of course, no worries." you stood up, lifting your top ever so slightly so that the staff could adjust your mic pack. yoongi did the same, both of you awkwardly facing your backs to the camera.

while looking around to admire the new set, yoongi aims an 'off-camera' question to you.

"do you wanna come with me to the music video shoot tomorrow?" he tilts his head towards you, but doesn't fully turn to you. you open your mouth to answer before you looked at him, amused.

"yoon, im your choreographer. i'll be there anyways." you smiled after watching yoongi process what you had just said and scratched his neck awkwardly, "oh...right."

"we can go together, though. i mean—i have to be there way earlier than you, but—"

"i don't mind. let's go together," yoongi smiles at you and you return it, before you switch to a small frown, "um, does fixing the mic pack usually take this long?"

you turn around and practically yelped, because the staff member that was fixing your mic pack had suddenly been replaced with jungkook, who had just let go of your microphone's wire with a laugh.

"noona!" jungkook exclaimed, opening his arms to engulf you in a hug. you pat his back a couple of times, still a little confused.

your eyes drift over to yoongi, who is currently trying to escape the grasp of taehyung and jimin while namjoon, jin and hobi are waving at you with big smiles.

"yah, hajima!" you heard yoongi shout out as he continued to fend off the two maknaes. you laugh a little before letting go of jungkook, "guys, that's enough."

jimin and taehyung pause before coming over to your side of the table to greet you. yoongi looks at everyone in confusion, "what are you guys doing here?"

"we're here to hang out with you guys!" jungkook smiles widely as namjoon comes over to give you a hug as well. yoongi simply frowns, "andwae."

"c'mon hyung," namjoon defends as he stands next to you, "it's your first suchwita shoot since the military! and noona is the special guest, we should all eat and drink together!"

yoongi glances at the staff, "is this why you guys ordered so much chicken?" a couple of cheeky nods from behind the camera caused him to sigh.

the staff members came out from behind the cameras to pass more bottles of alcohol to jin and hobi, who place the bottles on the table.

you smile at yoongi, "sounds fun, right?"

yoongi sighs defeatedly, "...fine, you guys can stay." the members cheered, each of them taking chairs to sit around the table.

—

on your side of the table was the maknae line, while namjoon, hobi and jin sat by yoongi.

"uwah, you guys even have your makeup done," you examined jimin, noticing the slightest bit of foundation.

"of course we have to look good for your suchwita debut, noona." jin teases with a grin, causing you to roll your eyes playfully.

"oh, what question were the two of you on?" hobi asks as he adjusts himself in his seat. the maknae line that are on your side of the table make quick work to give food and make drinks for the other six members.

"ah, right. the question full of evil intentions," you chuckled a little as you met yoongi's eyes after your comment. his eyes instantly crinkle, displaying his own defensive expression while smiling.

"aigo, it wasn't evil!" yoongi breaks the eye contact to face the camera so that they could see his frown. he sighs, "it was a question about who's the best dancer out of the seven of us."

once yoongi explained what the question was, all eyes were on you and all the boys (except for yoongi) exclaimed their own renditions of 'huh?!'.

"geurae? noona, it's me right?" jimin points to himself, leaning towards you with what can only be described as sparkles in his eyes. you open your mouth to answer but taehyung shoves jimin a little in offense, "aniya, it's me. she loves teaching me the most."

jungkook shakes his head furiously, "hah, as if!" the three continue to bicker and your eyes meet yoongi's mischievous ones, and you mouth 'see? evil.'

you stop the boys from going for each other's throats, chuckling a little, "i think all of you guys are great dancers," you paused a little.

"however...i think we all know that hobi is basically your guys' choreographer at this point, so that answers yoongi's question." you shrugged while the maknae line groaned. the hyung line simply chuckled and hobi shyly thanked you, not expecting such a straightforward answer.

"and what about the bonus question?" yoongi grinned, tilting his head as you glared playfully at him. the other members seemed to perk up again.

"bonus question?" namjoon asked, looking in between the both of you to try and get an answer. you sighed, "who i love hanging out with the most."

"yah, that's such an easy one!" hobi laughed as you said the question out loud. jin and jungkook shared a teasing glance.

"we all know the answer is suga-hyung!" jungkook chuckled, nudging you in the shoulder. you laughed nervously, covering your face with your hands as the rest of the boys agreed loudly.

yoongi winced at the camera before crossing his arms and chuckling to himself. his eyes rested on you, who is still embarrassed by the teasing from the other members.

slowly, you lifted your head up to face the staff, "we're cutting this part out, right?" a couple of unsure shrugs from behind the camera causes you to sigh before locking eyes with yoongi.

"i mean—" yoongi grins.

"no." you glared. "they're not wrong," yoongi finished, which had all of the members laughing, some of them clapping when yoongi admitted it. you sighed, shaking your head with a smile.

"okay, let's make it fair and rephrase the question," taehyung announced to the whole group, gaining a couple of confused looks, "noona, who do you love hanging out with the most besides suga-hyung?"

"ah, daebak." namjoon gives taehyung a thumbs up while the rest await your answer. you think about it for a moment before smiling a little.

"i'm actually close to all of you, so it's hard to pick just one member. but recently, i've been hanging out with jin more often." you glanced at jin who smiled softly, "ah, that's true."

the other members nodded, some of them going 'ahh' after hearing your answer.

"oh, noona. you're really good at this interview thing," jimin's eyes widened a little before he started snacking on the food on his plate. you smiled, "ah, it's nothing. i had a lot of experience from working overseas."

"yeah. noona's english is better than namjoon's at this point." hobi teased. you held your hands up defensively, "oh—i don't know about that."

"it's actually true. i've had a few conversations with her in english and she's way more fluent than i am." namjoon explained to the rest of the group, shocked at your fluency.

"ah, thank you, joonie. that means a lot," you nodded shyly. yoongi smiled softly at your response to namjoon's compliment.

"okay, before we wrap things up," yoongi straightened his back, turning on his host voice, "noona, would you like to say anything to the viewers watching?"

"oh! um..." you fidgeted with your fingers a little before looking directly into your camera, "give these boys a lot of support for their new album! they've been working very hard and they deserve it. stream 'arirang' on any music platform." you give your camera two thumbs up and a small smile.

yoongi chuckles a little at how adorable you look, before being nudged by namjoon, "let's toast one last drink together before we wrap up!"

everyone held up their glasses in the middle. "okay! uri maknae, give us something to toast to!" namjoon exclaimed, causing everyone to laugh.

"here's to the first comeback episode of suchwita, and to noona for making sure that all of us do our best for our tour!" jungkook practically yelled out his cheers, laughing while doing so.

"geonbae!" all of you clinked your glasses together and enjoyed the last on-camera drink of the shoot.

the director says 'cut!' and yoongi gets up from his seat to start thanking everyone for their hard work. you follow suit, thanking everyone for having you on set.

you and yoongi are the first to get your mics off, making small talk while doing so, before you walk up to the rest of the members, "hey, guys. me and yoon are gonna go home first. we'll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?"

"ah, noona! can i hangout at your place?" jungkook perks up and raises his hand, which you find endearing.

"what? why?" yoongi walks up next to you, leaning towards you slightly. jungkook shrugs with a slight pout, "just 'cause?"

"me too! i wanna hang out!" jimin hops next to jungkook with his hand up, imitating what jungkook was doing a couple moments ago. "i wanna hang out too!" taehyung appears on the other side of jungkook, his hand also raised.

jin, hobi and namjoon laugh, waving you and yoongi off as they all headed home and left the two of you to deal with the three younger members.

"you three wanna come over?" yoongi raises an eyebrow and the three of them nod in sync. you chuckle slightly before resting a hand on yoongi's shoulder, "guys, you have an early schedule tomorrow. you need rest."

"noona, hyung, jebal," jungkook pleads slightly while the other two put on their best puppy-eyed expressions. you and yoongi share a glance of hesitation before yoongi cracks first.

"fine," he sighs, "we'll make some dinner for you." you smiled amusingly at how quickly yoongi folded for the maknaes. the three celebrated and followed the two of you as you headed out to the car assigned for the both of you.

"i didn't expect you to give in that quickly." you mused, nudging yoongi's shoulder. he rolled his eyes playfully, "you would've said no. i'm not as strict as you are." yoongi wraps an arm around your shoulders as you reach the parking lot.

you gasp, hitting yoongi's chest, "i'm not strict!"

"sure you aren't."

—

a couple months later...

—

YouTube

[슈취타] EP.28 SUGA with _____

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Comments (30k)

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user23: bye is this a soft launch because what did i just watch

heartsforjin: SHE CALLED HIM YOON?? HELLO??? ELEPHANT IN ROOM???

armyest2015: omg my heart... they love their noona so much

btsfan01: him forgetting they work together when he asked her to come with him... respectfully is this casual bc i dont think so...

borahae134340: the small acts of service in this video is so cute oh my god even if they aren't together they seem like such good friends they're so adorable

yoongisgirl: yoongi marry me T^T

namjoonieee: why does it feel like im watching a kdrama and why do i want 20 more episodes

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—

the suchwita episode airs while yoongi is making the two of you dinner and you're in the living room, scrolling on your phone. one of the things that you had noticed is that your instagram had been blowing up, with armies tagging you in multiple reels of you and yoongi 'flirting' and more followers than you could keep up with.

how did the boys ever get used to this much attention? you thought as you chuckled a little, looking through the comments of the youtube video.

"what're you laughing at?" yoongi calls from the kitchen. his voice is a little drowned out since the two of you had been watching a series on the tv before he started cooking.

"the fans think you have a girlfriend again," you smiled smugly, looking through twitter for a little and laughing some more. yoongi walks out of the kitchen with a clay pot of kimchi stew and utensils for both of you.

"yeah? who is it this time?" he rolled his eyes playfully as he sets the pot and utensils on the living room table, where the two of you opted to eat dinner at. you paused the show on the tv before facing yoongi.

"me. the suchwita episode aired today," you showed yoongi your phone that displayed the youtube comments full of speculations of your relationship, "i think this one might stick a little longer, yoonie."

"oh, i forgot it was airing today," yoongi's eyes glance over a couple of the comments before he breaks out into a grin, "well, they wouldn't be wrong this time. now, would they?"

"hm. i guess not," you shrugged. out of the corner of your eye, you noticed tang had come over to see what was going on, before jumping onto your lap. you cooed at the black cat, "tangieee!" the cat trills in response, slowly closing his eyes as you pat his head.

yoongi's gaze softens before he heads back into the kitchen to get the two of you some bowls of rice, "can you read some of those comments?"

"yeah, sure," you directed your attention to your phone screen while continuing to give tang soft pets, "suga can't handle allat (he probably could...)" you laugh, the vibrations from your laughter prompting tang to start purring.

yoongi chuckles as he emerges from the kitchen again, "are all the comments about the armies thirsting over you?" he sets the bowls of rice on the table before sitting next to you, peering at the comments over your shoulder.

you scrolled down a little, glazing over some of the top comments, "some of them are pretty similar, i think i saw one that said 'he can't take all of us', or something like that," you turned your head towards yoongi who seemed offended.

"what? i totally could." he pouts a little, wrapping an arm around your shoulder while his other hand pets tang, who is half-asleep on your lap.

"mhm, sure you could," you pressed a kiss to yoongi's cheek, and yoongi is taken aback for a moment before he smiles softly, kissing your cheek in return.

you continued to scroll through the comments before you paused for a moment, "yoon?"

"mm?"

"were we a little too obvious? what if us revealing our connection starts bringing you guys hate again?" you leaned your head on your boyfriend's shoulder with a small frown. yoongi looked at you and reached over to turn off your phone.

"who cares what they think? we never explicitly stated we were together in the video. we were just teasing, it's up to the audience to interpret what they think and that's out of our control."

"and also," yoongi continued, "im positive armies wouldn't care that we were dating. if anything, they'd be supportive."

"really?" you got up to face yoongi, tang getting up to rest on the other side of you. yoongi raised an eyebrow, "of course. why not?"

you rolled your eyes playfully before returning to your place next to yoongi, "thanks yoon." yoongi hums in acknowledgement as you turn your phone back on to read youtube comments.

you chuckle, "yoongi marry me," you read out the comment.

"course i will."

"what?" you got back up to face yoongi, who looked just as confused as you were, "huh? what?"

you showed him the comment that you were reading out loud and yoongi simply laughed, "oops."

you looked at yoongi in disbelief before laughing yourself, "oops?" yoongi shrugs in response, sitting up after you before he softly holds your jaw to guide you towards him, slowly closing the distance with a kiss.

you return the kiss with a small smile before pulling away with an amused expression. yoongi grins, "just something for you to think about. if you're ready."

"you wanna marry me?" you tilted your head with a big grin while it was yoongi's turn to look at you in disbelief, as if it wasn't obvious from the start.

"jagiya, i've been chasing after you ever since i was mature enough to make my own decisions." yoongi's hand rests on your jaw, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

you chuckled, "wow, jagiya? wait till dispatch hears about this," you joked, still not being used to yoongi calling you that even if its the only thing he calls you when the two of you are alone.

yoongi sighs, "let's eat before the food gets cold." yoongi tries to deflect, but you notice the blush rushing to his ears as he starts to fluff up the rice in his bowl. you can't help but laugh again.

"i can't believe i'm the one that gets min yoongi to say yes to the infamous 'yoongi marry me'. you must be so smitten, aren't you— mmp!" your tease was cut short after yoongi shoved a spoon of rice and stew into your mouth with an amused grin.

you glared at yoongi, who chuckled a little before giving you a peck on the cheek, "you're lucky i love you."

your glare softened at his confession.

"i wulv wou foo, ftupid."

"chew your food, you're gonna choke."

"ofay."

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