: Happier Yang Jungwon

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ : happier ꗃ yang jungwon

𔘓 pairings: jay x reader x jungwon

𔘓 featuring: jang wonyoung, shin ryujin, hwang yeji < many more will probably be added soon ! >

𔘓 genres&tags: student council president!jungwon x fem!reader, basketball captain!jay x fem!reader, love triangle, socmed au, college au, non-idol au, friends to lovers, fluff, crack, humor, a little angst

𔘓 warnings: lowercase intended, mentions of cheating, swear words

𔘓 summary: jungwon liked you ever since, but you were too dense to notice. finally mustering up his courage, jungwon told you what he really felt, but you couldn't reciprocate his feelings as you were already dating jay: the basketball captain, which is also jungwon's friend. things took a huge turn when jungwon found out something about his friend doing things behind your back.

𔘓 status: ongoing [ i try to post multiple updates a day ]

𔘓 started: 2021.10.18

𔘓 notes: hi ! i just made this blog : D actually, it's my first time also to make a series (?) so i hope everyone who'll be reading this would like it <33 just send an ask if u wanna be added to the taglist, i'd love to have u there ! ☆ some parts would also be written, but that would happen rarely ^^

𔘓 disclaimer: the characteristics of the idols involved are only for the plot, you shouldn't base on this au on how they actually are. characters and their traits are purely fictional.

❙❘❙❙❘❙❚❙❘ ⌕ : MASTERLIST

𔘓 . . . preview !

𔘓 . . . characters ! [ 1 ] [ 2 ]

𔘓 . . . [ 1 ] held captive

𔘓 . . . [ 2 ] guess who's back

𔘓 . . . [ 3 ] the j in jay's name stands for jealousy

𔘓 . . . [ 4 ] unknown number

𔘓 . . . [ 5 ] how long

𔘓 . . . [ 6 ] confused

𔘓 . . . [ 7 ] butterflies?

𔘓 . . . [ 8 ] left unlocked

𔘓 . . . [ 9 ] all for y/n

𔘓 . . . [ 10 ]

© lvrshypen, 2021.

act 38: “hell is real”

< previous | next >

masterlist

❑ summary: Sunoo was going to do it. He really was going to confess to School Council President Y/N. He’s been planning his careful approach for WEEKS! However, fate is a bitch and one misunderstanding led to not only Sunoo failing to admit his feelings to the elusive Y/N, but also taking up a newer responsibility he was absolutely NOT ready for.

Why is being in love so hard?

taglist [closed]: @13isacoolnumber @shine-your-light @viscoolreal @txtandifoundintheskyat553 @imtrashingeneral-helpme @neo-atlantic-03 @dear-dreamie @agustpeepee @icywhatim @goldenxddeonu @notmangojuice @yongbokfrecks @instahann @ncityy04 @atinyyylove @markleepooh @enhaphile @amireallyari @kpop-bambi @strwberrydinosaur @pebbypenny @jeanboysgf @abby-os @kuroosmikasavolleyball @highkeygolden @envirae @jakeycore @woniecstasy @gogo-is-cooler-than-you @cheonsacheol @ffuuckji @terrytaehyunnies @neonew @witheeseung @whoe-dis @vantxx95 @hobistigma @ac-ewow @eeheeeh @ferxanda @yut0s @straykidrens @jjikyuu @luvelyxp @cha-raena @rainbowfishpotatobubbles @youreverydayzebra @channiescutie @wonclusion @lvpersona

send this to your favorite blogs to let them know you adore them ! pass it on to make someone’s day 💕

DAWBI?@?#*@(!(! AAAAAAAA thank u so much :'( i have been ia so much bc of studies :'0 i missed u 💐💐💐

HELP WHY DID I FROZE WHEN HEESEUNG CAME INTO THE ROOM😭😭😭 BTW THIS IS SO GOOOOD MWAH CHEFS KISSSSS

open sesame — ft. lee heeseung

—some doors are better left unopened.

synopsis: you are uncontrollably, helplessly, and tragically in love with your roommate, heeseung. one night, desperate to learn more about him, you sneak inside his room and discover the reason why he always seems to keep his door closed. and then you realise that some doors, no matter how tempting, are better left unopened.

‣ title: open sesame ‣ characters: lee heeseung x you ‣ genres: romance, comedy, crack, fluff, raunchy ‣ au(s): roommate heeseung, “you have a fat crush on your roommate and he likes to tease you about it” au ‣ contents: hot roommate heeseung in a robe, suggestive content, mentions of sex, teasing ‣ warnings: swearing, lowercase intended

⿻ word count: 5.1k — part ONE / two / three / four / five

author’s note: this is my debut story on tumblr! i’m super excited and nervous ;-; i think i’ll continue with lots of enhypen content, so please support this if u enjoy it! :>

P.S. thank u to my bestie @yerion for making this pretty header ;-; imma kms its so pretty PLS GO CHECK OUT HER BTS FICS *-*

there are so many things to hate about the apartment.

it’s located in an infamously dangerous neighbourhood.

the faucets are leaky.

the elevator has been out of order for months now.

and the rent? the fucking rent? dear lord, it's insultingly expensive.

it doesn’t make much sense for you to live there, especially not since you’re a broke graduate with nothing but a ghastly amount of debt to your name.

you are, to put so blatantly, broke as fuck.

realistically, you could solve your financial issues and resurrect the state of your bank account with a simple google search and an hour of your time. your best friends don't let you forget this, for they have echoed the same chorus of incessant nagging. your parents, too, have sighed loudly, rolled their eyes and coated their words thick with disapproval for your so-called profligate lifestyle and your reckless spending.

yada yada yada, it’s all the same.

to be honest, you don’t even know why they try, because they know their words fall on deaf ears.

their loving words slip through one ear and out the other like a child on a waterslide.

why? because you already know all that.

you know you could find a better apartment if you wanted to.

one that didn't cost a limb and one that was closer to your job.

heck, you could probably move back into your parents’ home if you really wanted.

and yet, you don't.

somehow, against all rationality, you slave the hours away at your dead-end job and, month after month, you scrape the money from the bottom of your bank account like stubborn burnt grease at the base of a pan.

in all honesty, you don't care about the crime in the neighbourhood, or the leaky faucets, or the sad state of the electric box you've never once stepped foot inside.

in fact, you've convinced yourself that the apartment is charming in its own ways.

you like to think that the narrow, dark, cold paveway that leads to the front door of your apartment complex is just the perfect setting for some alone time. sure, you’ve caught suspiciously creepy men dressed in dark clothing follow you down the street, but hey, so what if you have to jog a little? you’ve been meaning to exercise anyway.

you’ve also convinced yourself that even if you were robbed of all your precious belongings on your way home (and at this rate, you most definitely will be), it’d be a good thing, because you’ve been meaning to do some decluttering anyway!

also, yes, you totally love how you have to desperately jimmy your keys into the lock of your front door and hurriedly shove yourself inside. you also love how you take extra caution to ensure nobody has followed behind you—you think it exercises your problem-solving skills. who doesn't love brain stimulating activities?

honestly, the free iq brain exercises are nothing compared to the way you have to make begrudgingly heavy stomps up several—like, seriously several—flights of stairs because the apartment managers have been too lazy and unbothered to repair the elevator.

again—free gym.

it's all about perspective, you like to think, and the glass has always been half-full to you.

but of course, the aspects you most enjoy about your living arrangement are the few shy shuffles you take once you've reached the floor of your apartment... and your fingers are wrapped tightly around the cold metal of the door knob... and you push your way through the door... and you're greeted by your... roommate.

it's very possible and likely you could be robbed on the way back to your apartment one day.

rot, mold and structural damage are all well-documented complications of a leaky faucet.

your pathetically miniscule leg muscles are probably going to need months of restorative physiotherapy to heal from all the stair climbing.

but who cares? who the fuck cares? you certainly don’t. you will continue to gladly pay the unreasonably high rent.

you just don't care.

you really, truly, wholeheartedly do not give a flying fuck.

why?

why?

what is the reason for this insanity? this blasphemy? this pea-brained, imbecilic, inane, financially horrendous decision?

the answer is simple: your roommate.

your roommate.

your stupid freaking roommate.

your incredibly, intoxicatingly, unbelievably irresistible roommate.

he is so sexy.

he is so fucking sexy.

you were knee-deep in shit the day you met him.

it had been a few months ago, when your lovely mother called you a lazy, ungrateful genetic error and tossed you out of your childhood home like yesterday's trash.

you miserably roamed the hallways of your university that day, looking for a new home. you were desperate and cold and the person who printed the first rent ad you saw included a picture of a really cute dog you wanted to pet.

a corgi.

you were already sold.

you remember cooing at the animal's beady little eyes. though you knew it was just an image of an animal that didn't know your existence or do anything but lick its own ass, you still felt like it had been calling your name through the ink. it reminded you of the dog you had when you were younger—cute, small and unassuming. the second you had given it a name, stuart, you felt the chambers of your heart thicken with love and you had snatched the paper in your hands, to dial the number listed on the ad with a hopeful smile.

however, you didn’t just get to meet a cute little dog.

you met its owner, too.

in fact, you met a man for whom you would get on your four limbs and bark for.

you couldn’t believe it was possible to be envious of a literal dog, but this was suddenly conceivable since you had learned that the man that posted the ad was god’s finest work.

heeseung. his name was heeseung.

he was a hot man. nay, he was more than that—he was the fucking sun. he was your entire solar system. he was a lean, charming man who smelled like a garden blessed by fairies. you had committed many sins in your life, but he had a smile that ascended you to the higher gods and convinced you were being welcomed by ethereal, angelic beings. eyes warm like a golden sunset. a voice that seeped into the labyrinth of your ears like honey. it gently tapped against your eardrums, mimicking the sounds of your pounding heart.

wow.

he was just… wow.

the first time you had met him, he had been standing by the door, eyeing you with a curious stare. he didn’t seem to mind the fact that there was a single white towel wrapped scandalously around his torso, nor the fact that he showcased his entirely bare upper body.

you knew you were in trouble when your eyes shadowed the outline of his chiselled body and you sucked a deep breath between your teeth, overcome by the heat trickling to your cheeks. you knew those broad shoulders, those well-built arms and his well-defined chest almost blinded you. scratch that, they definitely blinded you. your optometrist was going to be so baffled at your worsening prescription.

you weren't normally the type to fall so hard for men, especially ones that you had only just met, but he hit you like a train pummelling down the tracks. you had been beginning to lose your hope in the male population when this beautiful man smiled at you—he smiled, making your toes curl and your heart burst like a balloon. damn. you definitely wanted a taste of his lips. you wondered if he tasted sweet like candy, or smoky like whiskey.

either way, you wanted more than a taste—you wanted a bite.

"hi," was the first word he said that fateful day, and you swore you saw literal fireworks as his smile reached his eyes and you felt a compromising wobble in your knees.

he cordially welcomed you inside and sat you down in his living room. he quizzed you with a string of questions aimed to determine whether or not you'd make a good roommate. he asked you about your previous place of residence (parents' basement), your standard of cleanliness (honestly rats would be disgusted by you) and if you had a deathly allergy to dogs (would he just shut the fuck up and kiss you already?).

you were shy that day, and it definitely didn't help that the man was unbothered by his attire, or lack thereof. he trusted that towel with his life, you thought. it took a hefty amount of self-control to not brazenly admire the man's physique, but you willed through and kept your eyes trained to his, with what little sanity you had left controlling the strings of your vocal cords like a puppet master.

the man had been pleasantly surprised with your answers. even you were quite proud of yourself for keeping it together and not disintegrating into a pile of mush.

the tour around the apartment he gave you revealed the life of a very clean, organised and pleasant man. he kept his space tidy. you had the preconceived notion that most men were disgusting pigs, but he did his due laundry and you even learned that he liked to cook. husband material.

you remember seeing the kitchen, the living room, and the place that would soon be your room, though interestingly he never showed you his. the words he spoke that day are still vivid in your memory—“i don’t normally leave the door open,” he said. “but if you open it, just remember that it won’t close.”

you definitely didn’t understand what he had meant by that, but his godly face was enough to get you to instantly agree to move in. and just a few weeks later, you did just that—you found yourself standing in front of his door once more, a box in your hands, wondering what the next few months had in store for you.

so, uh, yes, you can live with the crime rate and the leaky faucets and the useless elevator and the squeaky doors and the one time you're pretty sure you saw cockroaches run away from the apartment because it meant you had a front-row seat view of the man of your dreams.

in fact, for the first few weeks, your roommate heeseung had been perfectly courteous. you admit, you did feel the initial awkwardness that often accompanied a sudden transition from strangers to roommates, but you eventually found yourself sitting across from him on the dining table engaging in diplomatic conversation. you mostly talked about your favourite tv shows. and had arguments about whether or not milk or cereal should be poured first. he’s certainly a violent psychopath for liking his cornflakes soggy, but his cute face makes up for it.

during these times, you'd munch on the toast he'd butter for you and you'd try your best to not swoon so loudly, so shamelessly, but you have to admit you were as loud as ambulatory sirens. how could you not when the man refused to wear normal clothes? when he wasn’t wearing a towel around his waist, he was wearing a white robe. and somehow, a robe was so much worse—he’d leave just the right amount of upper chest and lower leg, and his hair was always wet, and he’d smell like shampoo, and damn fuck, your mama didn’t raise you to be the kind of person to be sexually attracted to the scent of shampoo but here you were.

you were simping.

you were down bad.

so.

fucking.

bad.

to make matters worse, you felt like he relished in watching you stumble over the words in your sentences or stammer like a broken record, because he'd stare at you with a teasing glint in his eyes, bright enough that you’d wanted to sink into the ground. the worst of it all was his boundless arsenal of seductive smirks and smiles and stares, ones with their own inflections and tiny complexities, like they all spoke nonverbal conversation.

nevertheless, you had learned to cherish these few moments, because barring the peaceful breakfasts you shared with him, he'd spend a lot of his time inside his room.

you were quick to realise that heeseung is actually quite a private person—at least, the type to leave his door closed at any given second of the day. even a few weeks into living with him, you realise you have never actually seen the interior of his room—and this lets your wildest imagination fester.

what the hell is in there?

you’re still wondering even to this day.

dead bodies? no, no, your beautiful, sexy man wouldn’t do that.

a secret sex dungeon? okay, probably not. haha, unless…?

a drug stash? maybe he’s a drug dealer. you should stop. now you’re just being crazy.

actually, when you think about it, you realise you don’t even know what he does for a living. you don’t know much about heeseung. you know these silly little tidbits, like the fact that he likes stuffing his face with ramen, or that he hates mint chocolate, but you don't really know him.

you don’t know his fears. his dreams. his inspirations. his astrology sign.

and damn it, as his future wife, you should probably know these things!

but you know what? this ignorance ends today.

today, you’re determined to learn more about him.

you’re finally going to have a peek behind that door.

it works in your favour that today’s your day off work, and you’re so grateful to be granted a break from tedious audit data processing at a firm nobody cares about.

instead of mind-numbing boredom, you feel nothing but exhilaration expanding against the walls of your veins. as you lie in your bed and stare up at the oyster white ceiling above you, you hear the distant sounds of heeseung busying himself away for breakfast.

a homely aroma of bacon and eggs wafts in the air and circulates around your room—if the smell wasn’t mouth-watering enough, you guess that your hot roommate is probably cooking breakfast while wearing another one of his sexy ass robes.

heeseung in a robe.

soft white cotton, firm skin, wet skin—stretched across a sweeping figure of taut muscles, smothered beneath the material.

you groan loudly at this thought, and suffocate your face with one of your pillows. you want to roll around in your sheets like a crazy teenage girl and scream. you’ve never had such sinful thoughts of a man before, and it’s absolutely mortifying. sure, cute men have caught your eye in public before, but nobody has ever sustained so much of your devotion for so long.

it’s the very essence of said devotion that allows you to rise to your feet and stretch your limbs. the abhorring reflection of yourself in the mirror makes you wince, and suddenly heeseung’s lack of affection for you begins to make sense. to form some semblance of togetherness, you change into socially acceptable clothes and pat your hair into a shape that doesn’t reflect a bird’s nest, only to find yourself out of the room within minutes.

your open door welcomes a short hallway, and with just a few shuffles along the passageway, you eventually enter the living room and find your eyes blessed with the greatest sight in the universe.

you can’t tell what’s more sizzling hot—heeseung or the bacon.

either way, they’re both yummy.

you should be well-accustomed to the sight of heeseung on a saturday morning by now, but nothing about this is easy to wrap your head around. you’re still swooning at the sight of him leaning against the kitchen counter, in all his white bathrobe glory. it’s usual for his back to be facing you because you know he enjoys staring straight out the window above the sink, with his back touching the marble countertop and his two arms on the surface to keep him anchored.

sometimes, you feel like you’re interrupting his movie.

a distant tune from the radio is playing, and you instantly recognise it. who isn’t familiar with bruno mars’ new release, leave the door open?

“…smooth like a newborn,” heeseung sings to the tune on the radio. even when he’s only half-singing his voice sounds like an angel’s. in these times, you don’t know which you think is more beautiful—his face or his voice. the man’s too perfect for your own good.

“we should be dancin’, romancin’, inner eat wings, and then wear rings—”

you snort.

god, he’s butchering the lyrics again.

“heeseung,” you call out gently. “the lyrics are dancin’, romancin’, in the east wing and the west wing,” you snort again, words laced with amusement.

the sudden sound of your voice prompts heeseung to lean off the counter and turn around to face you with a stunning smile.

oh.

dear.

god.

when your eyes meet, your heart clenches and your stomach mangles into a knot because it pains you to be reminded of how pretty he is. the sun’s rays seep through the glass from behind and make him look like he has an outer glow. god’s playing favourites.

he scrunches his nose and shakes his head, chuckling. “damn. i messed it up again, didn’t i?”

yes you did, but it’s okay, you beautiful son of a bitch. you keep your cool and shake your head solemnly. “you didn’t just mess it up—you absolutely botched it.”

“wow, i didn't realise i was speaking to the song lyrics police.”

“yup,” you grin. “and i’m arresting you for blatantly disrespecting the music industry and my poor ears.” but not my eyes.

heeseung squints at you while smiling. “ah, there’s nothing that ruins a saturday morning more than getting arrested by your roommate after making her a nice plate of bacon and eggs.”

his joke makes you stifle a laugh, until eventually all sounds simmer down into the gentle sizzling of bacon over oil.

there’s a part of you that wishes you could have continued bantering like this, though you remind yourself that even being able to speak around him without shitting your pants has taken several months’ worth of courage.

when you first moved in, you’re pretty sure you had the personality of a boiled potato. and now… well, now you’re not really sure of your vegetable equivalent, but it’s something just a tad more spicy. probably capsicum.

you drag yourself away from your strange inner monologue and slide into a stool at the kitchen counter. discreetly, you pull out your phone and under the pretence of texting friends you definitely don’t have, you try not to make it obvious when you sneak a few glances at him.

your stare must not feel so heavy, because heeseung slips back into his default mode and continues to cook. he even makes two mugs of coffee for the both of you and soon enough, you find your favourite kind of breakfast cooked by your favourite kind of chef placed in front of you.

golden strips and perfectly poached white clouds.

“oh, you’re not eating?” you ask, noticing there’s only one plate and it’s yours. heeseung eyes you from across the counter and sips his coffee, shaking his head.

“i’m heading into work early,” he explains, slowly tipping the rest of the coffee into his mouth. you shouldn’t, but you watch the movement of his neck and the way his adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows the liquid.

you gulp.

you need to stop staring.

“by the way, um…” you shake your head to dismiss your thoughts and shove a few bites in your mouth, “what, um… what exactly do you do for work?”

heeseung swallows the last of his coffee and settles the mug down onto the counter. he curls a brow at you and feigns an insulted scoff. “do you really not know?”

you don’t recall him ever telling you. well, you have the biggest crush on the man—you’re pretty fucking sure you’d remember if he’d told you.

“no?”

he then rests both his hands along the edge of the counter and leans forward. you try not to notice the way the movement makes his arm muscles flex. “guess.”

guess?

your best guess is that he works full-time at being ceo of sexiness.

“uh… um… teacher?” you laugh nervously, eating more of the food just so you have something to do. mr lee. as if anybody would be able to concentrate if he was their teacher.

heeseung smirks, shaking his head. “try again.”

your chewing slows. “spy? you’re definitely a spy,” you joke. “i bet you go around doing illegal missions and stuff.”

heeseung stifles a laugh. “what?” he leans back, peels his hands off the counter and folds them across his chest. “teacher, spy, what’s next? a vampire?”

“okay, fine,” you frown. so maybe your guesses aren’t very informed at all. it’s not really your fault that heeseung hasn’t told you much about himself, so there’s not very much baseline information to go off.

“a banker?”

“no.”

“a doctor?”

“no.”

“a… model?”

you’re blushing now. he definitely has the looks and the body to be a model.

“no,” heeseung chuckles, “but i guess i did a few modelling shots here and there in college.”

he says it so casually like every college student does. you merely nod and resume eating, though you take a mental note to hunt down these photoshoots later when he leaves the apartment.

“anyway,” his eyes flit past you as he glances at the wall-mounted clock. “i should go get ready.”

already?

you open your mouth to protest, only for your eyes to meet. heeseung cocks his head to the side and smirks, reaching over with one hand. you instantly freeze at the sight of his approaching fingers when suddenly, he swipes the side of your lip with a finger.

and then he places the finger back inside his mouth.

what.

the.

fuck.

he licks the remaining of what you assume was food stuck to your mouth. he licks his lips, head bobbing. “maybe i’m a chef, because whatever was just in my mouth tasted real good.”

you’re frozen merely from the contact of his skin, though he’s standing straight now. he saunters over toward his room when suddenly he freezes, calling your name over shoulder.

“y-yes?” you blink at him rapidly, maintaining as much composure as you can.

“you’re home alone today, aren’t you?”

you quickly nod your head.

“good,” he smiles gently. “somebody’s coming over to fix the heater.”

he points toward the door with a thumb.

“so don’t let anyone in my room, okay?”

don’t let anyone in my room, okay?

heeseung’s gone for work.

so now it’s time to put your plan into motion.

you know you’re probably violating his privacy and the binding covenant between two roommates, but… well, he never technically asked you to not come in. he never forbid you from doing this.

and now that you’re the only one home and the only one responsible for looking after heeseung’s adorable dog, what if little stuart’s favourite toy is in there? it’d be cruel of you to let her live a day without her precious chew toy. what if you’re left to watch her jump up and down on her poor little paws to reach the door handle? you’re not the biggest fan of animal abuse.

you cast a cursory glance at the tiny dog bed in the corner of the living room and see the animal peacefully sleeping. okay, okay, stuart, i’ll go in there since you keep insisting.

with a brave heart and a small mantra of self-encouragement to accompany you, you finally lace your hand around the metal door knob.

and you turn it.

click.

the door opens.

you will yourself to breathe.

this is it.

this is the truth.

you wonder how deliciously refreshing the truth will taste, especially since ignorance feels awfully sour on the tongue. okay, fine, you’ll admit that there’s a part of you that surpasses the simple desire to learn more about heeseung, because truthfully, the thrill of danger will always be exciting.

will you find something you’re not supposed to?

is there more to heeseung than he leads on?

such questions must be the reason for which your heart mangles itself at the centre of your throat, especially once you lift your head and finally take your first gaze into his room.

you halt.

heeseung’s room is…

normal.

very normal, actually.

almost… underwhelmingly normal.

you blink in confusion and open the door even wider, stepping inside to examine the very heart of his being carefully.

okay, so he’s got a decently-sized bed, a bookshelf, and probably more things shoved deeper into the depths of his closet—such objects are awfully ordinary and unimpressive, thus eliciting a rush of bewilderment within you.

now you just feel silly.

gently shutting the door behind yourself, you waddle inside and inhale the crisp scent of his cologne, magnetically floating toward his bookshelf. scrutinising the various titles and genres of the books he’s purchased, you try to gather as much information about heeseung as possible.

he knows how to read: check.

he knows how to purchase a book: check.

he… he owns a bookshelf: check.

damn, this was not the quest you were expecting.

you weren’t exactly anticipating to be slaying dragons and saving princesses inside these four walls, but, well, you thought there was something spicy here. something worthy enough for heeseung to tell you not to allow anybody inside. something worthy enough for heeseung to always keep the door shut.

but this?

this?

this sucks.

whirling around with disinterest, you look at his bed, and naturally your eyes drift toward the bed-side dresser. it’s a short-legged, mahogany piece of furniture, with three drawers that you crouch beside. you reach out to yank open the topmost drawer before you halt, realising that you probably have absolutely no right to do this.

sure, you can wonder if there’s a secret sex dungeon in your roommate’s room, but you’re probably in no position to snoop around in his belongings.

with a sigh, you erect yourself and turn toward the door to leave, halting once you hear a noise.

you hear a fucking noise.

what is that noise?

the apartment door opening.

cursing loudly, you dash toward the bedroom door, ready to leap outside the scene of crime, stopped instantly once you perceive a voice on the other side.

it’s heeseung.

he’s calling out your name.

fuck fuck fuck.

fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

your roommate is literally outside in the living room and you’re in his bedroom.

the utter dread in your chest prompts your hands to fly to your hair as you frantically comb between the threads. you pace around frantically, though the walls feel like they’re closing in on you and your death is inevitable.

when he finds out you’re here, he’s going to kill you.

he’s definitely going to slaughter your ass.

he’s going to murder you and let your guts splatter across the walls.

you’ll die young and unaccomplished and smelling like bacon.

okay, okay. okay. calm down, calm down, calm down, you chant to yourself.

your lips form a circle as you pump air in and out of your lungs like a puffed out sumo wrestler.

breathe, bacon girl, breathe!

you shouldn’t at all be surprised by this result, especially since you’re well-acquainted with your tendency to make terrible decisions.

if there’s one thing you excel in, it’s being a dumbass—you’ve microwaved countless spoons. you’ve spent hours and hours trying to find your favourite pair of shorts only to realise that you were already wearing them. you’ve countlessly mistaken the crack on your phone screen as hair and tried to pick it off. once, you even tried to unscrew a lightbulb that was already turned on.

you’re dumb and stupid and make even dumber and stupider decisions.

and perhaps this will explain your next move.

you reach into the pits of your pockets and fish out your phone, instantaneously allowing your fingers to fly across the digital keyboard without a second thought.

hey, you text heeseung. could you please leave the apartment and go buy some milk—

you stop texting once heeseung’s reply message pops up.

the guy isn’t coming to fix the heater anymore, he replied. i rescheduled for next week. where are you?

you immediately erase your last message and type in a new one. at work. they suddenly called me in.

you’re quite pleased for thinking so suddenly on your feet, but your smile vanishes as quickly as your fingers had sent the message.

why the fuck did you say that? now he’s going to expect you to walk into the apartment door later in the day. he’s going to expect you to “return home from work”.

and to think you couldn’t get any dumber.

groaning to yourself, you whip your head around desperately in the room, wondering if there’s anywhere to hide.

as if on cue, heeseung is relentless. you hear him shuffle closer toward his bedroom door, prompting you to dash toward his closet. you reach over to open the closet doors when you suddenly halt, before turning around completely and dropping yourself onto the floor.

you roll across the floor and into the space underneath his bed.

and heeseung’s door slams open.

instantly holding your breath, you shut your eyes tightly and pray he can’t see you. as the bed is situated in the corner of the room, you slowly inch closer and closer toward the corner, far from the rest of the room.

fuck.

fuck.

fuck.

this is, by far, the worst decision you’ve ever made.

you should have listened to heeseung and not let curiosity get ahold of you—there’s an old saying ‘curiosity killed the cat’, but now you wonder why it was never ‘curiosity bit the cat in the ass and now the cat is hiding underneath a man’s bed and holy fuck you can see the man’s feet and the man’s feet are approaching you and they’re coming closer and closer and closer and—’

a phone rings.

you freeze.

is that yours?

you pray it’s not yours.

“hello?”

oh thank god, it’s not yours.

you watch heeseung’s feet carefully, paying to the direction they point in. he seems to be facing the bed at first, until he eventually twirls himself around and takes a seat on the bed. there are not enough words in the world to articulate the true magnitude of royally screwed you are.

you are doomed.

you will either wait until your roommate discovers that you’re hiding underneath his bed, or you will die and leave your skeletons here to rot.

either way, heeseung most definitely is not going to return your feelings.

to be continued.

author’s note hiii thank you so much for reading!! i really hope you liked it :> i’m kinda scared since this is my first time posting on tumblr (and for enhypen) so i would really appreciate ur support via liking + reblogging ;-; i’m super new around here & definitely looking for friends hehe so please don't be afraid to interact!! anyway this is an old-ish story that i've edited, altho i’m definitely coming out w more enhypen content if u liked this one!! :D <3

OH MYGOGOEFNEIFOE

act 8: “Y/N the enabler”

< previous | next >

masterlist

❑ summary: Sunoo was going to do it. He really was going to confess to School Council President Y/N. He’s been planning his careful approach for WEEKS! However, fate is a bitch and one misunderstanding led to not only Sunoo failing to admit his feelings to the elusive Y/N, but also taking up a newer responsibility he was absolutely NOT ready for.

Why is being in love so hard?

taglist [closed]: @jojomints @13isacoolnumber @shine-your-light @viscoolreal @enhypenisnotforsale @imtrashingeneral-helpme @neo-atlantic-03 @dear-dreamie @agustpeepee @icywhatim @goldenxddeonu @notmangojuice @yongbokfrecks @instahann @ncityy04 @atinyyylove @markleepooh @enhaphile @amireallyari @kpop-bambi @strwberrydinosaur @pebbypenny @jeanboysgf @abby-os @kuroosmikasavolleyball @highkeygolden @envirae @jakeycore @woniecstasy @gogo-is-cooler-than-you @cheonsacheol @ffuuckji @terrytaehyunnies @neonew @witheeseung @whoe-dis @vantxx95 @hobistigma @ac-ewow @eeheeeh @ferxanda @yut0s @straykidrens @jjikyuu @luvelyxp @cha-raena @rainbowfishpotatobubbles @youreverydayzebra @channiescutie @wonclusion @lvpersona

ah yes the tl, the morning paper🤏🕶

act 16: “I SAID COLOR”

< previous | next >

masterlist

♡ summary: in which Y/N has already accepted the fact that she will never be anything more than a best friend to Jake. She’s fine. She’s kept it all together for so long. However, Sunoo is a force to reckon with and he will do anything in his power to get Jake and Y/N together—Oh, and not to mention Sunoo really hates Jake’s current girlfriend, much to the annoyance of Y/N.

taglist: @sugawarasrose @ghjasksdk @k1ttyl1x @ncityy04 @envirae @cha-raena @goldenxddeonu @nikisboxysmile @itsyaapollochild @shawkneecaps @youreverydayzebra @renjunvrse @sunshineshouchan @enhacami @enhathings @yourneozone @agustpeepee @ahnneyong @taehyunsmine @ilovejaketoomuch @hobistigma @13isacoolnumber @lenaaa-3 @sungminie @strwberrydinosaur @icywhatim @arishaechan @kittysunoo @imtrashingeneral-helpme @enthusiastforniki [taglist now closed]