everyone knew y/n’s boyfriend was trash. she’d convinced herself otherwise, brushing off the late replies, the cancelled plans, the way he spoke like affection was a favor. everyone saw it—especially leehan.
everyone knew y/n’s boyfriend was trash. she’d convinced herself otherwise, brushing off the late replies, the cancelled plans, the way he spoke like affection was a favor. everyone saw it—especially leehan.
Park Sungho is the kind of guy campus stories revolve around. Captain of the basketball team, everyone’s favorite poster boy, naturally gifted but academically allergic. Coaches love his game; professors hate his attendance. When midterms hit and his grades nosedive enough to risk his scholarship and the team’s shot at finals, the verdict is non‑negotiable: raise them or get benched.
Park Sungho is the kind of guy campus stories revolve around. Captain of the basketball team, everyone’s favorite poster boy, naturally gifted but academically allergic. Coaches love his game; professors hate his attendance. When midterms hit and his grades nosedive enough to risk his scholarship and the team’s shot at finals, the verdict is non‑negotiable: raise them or get benched.
When Y/N leaves for school months ago, her cousin Sungho gets used to living like it’s a one‑person apartment—messy kitchen, shoes by the door, TV on too loud. His friends practically treat the place like a second home, dropping by for movie nights, takeout, and aimless 2 a.m. conversations.
When Y/N leaves for school months ago, her cousin Sungho gets used to living like it’s a one‑person apartment—messy kitchen, shoes by the door, TV on too loud. His friends practically treat the place like a second home, dropping by for movie nights, takeout, and aimless 2 a.m. conversations.
Y/N and Woonhak have known each other since scraped knees and after-school snacks—best friends before they even understood what love could mean. As they got older, nothing really changed… except everything did. Their bond stayed full of inside jokes, late-night calls, and easy touches that lasted just a bit too long. Y/N fell first, quietly, choosing friendship over the risk of losing him altogether. Woonhak—loud, stubborn, and infuriatingly oblivious—buried anything that felt deeper, convinced she’d never see him that way.
Y/N and Woonhak have known each other since scraped knees and after-school snacks—best friends before they even understood what love could mean. As they got older, nothing really changed… except everything did. Their bond stayed full of inside jokes, late-night calls, and easy touches that lasted just a bit too long. Y/N fell first, quietly, choosing friendship over the risk of losing him altogether. Woonhak—loud, stubborn, and infuriatingly oblivious—buried anything that felt deeper, convinced she’d never see him that way.
In Seoul’s Twitch scene, Myung Jaehyun—better known as @pupjae—is one of those streamers everyone somehow knows, even if they do not follow him. With 24k followers, a loud, loyal chat, absurdly fast shooter-game reflexes, and a habit of turning even a frozen Minecraft cow into a full emotional crisis, Jaehyun’s streams are chaos in the best way. He plays COD, Fortnite, Minecraft, terrible indie horror games, and occasionally hosts late-night mukbang streams with his friends that derail into arguments about food, dating, and who would survive a zombie apocalypse.
In Seoul’s Twitch scene, Myung Jaehyun—better known as @pupjae—is one of those streamers everyone somehow knows, even if they do not follow him. With 24k followers, a loud, loyal chat, absurdly fast shooter-game reflexes, and a habit of turning even a frozen Minecraft cow into a full emotional crisis, Jaehyun’s streams are chaos in the best way. He plays COD, Fortnite, Minecraft, terrible indie horror games, and occasionally hosts late-night mukbang streams with his friends that derail into arguments about food, dating, and who would survive a zombie apocalypse.
They were supposed to be just friends—six inseparable people who spent too many nights in cramped apartments, too much money at bars, and too much time pretending they did not notice the way certain looks lasted longer than they should.
Y/N and Jaehyun have never had to define what they are.
Y/N had always liked Jaehyun quietly.
You and Leehan used to exist in that blurry, almost-something space—too close to be casual, too undefined to be real.
You and Leehan used to exist in that blurry, almost-something space—too close to be casual, too undefined to be real.
Y/N books a solo trip to Korea on impulse—or at least that’s what it looks like to everyone else. In reality, it’s something she’s been quietly planning for months. A mix of wanting independence, wanting new experiences, and maybe—just a little—wanting to exist in the same world as the music she’s loved from afar.
Y/N books a solo trip to Korea on impulse—or at least that’s what it looks like to everyone else. In reality, it’s something she’s been quietly planning for months. A mix of wanting independence, wanting new experiences, and maybe—just a little—wanting to exist in the same world as the music she’s loved from afar.
Y/N and Riwoo have been best friends for years — the kind of friendship that blurs until even silence feels shared language. Everyone assumes they’re basically a couple already: matching playlists, inside jokes, casual touches that last a beat too long.
Woonhak has never spoken to you—not once. Not in class, not in passing, not even a polite “excuse me.” But he knows the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re annoyed, the exact time you leave your last lecture on Thursdays, and how your laugh sounds slightly different when you’re genuinely amused versus just being polite.
Woonhak has never spoken to you—not once. Not in class, not in passing, not even a polite “excuse me.” But he knows the way you tuck your hair behind your ear when you’re annoyed, the exact time you leave your last lecture on Thursdays, and how your laugh sounds slightly different when you’re genuinely amused versus just being polite.
Y/N has always had Taesan in her orbit—close enough to matter, far enough to stay “safe.” He’s the friend who shows up uninvited but somehow always at the right time, the one who remembers things she never told anyone, the one who insists he doesn’t care while proving the opposite in a hundred subtle ways.
Y/N has always had Taesan in her orbit—close enough to matter, far enough to stay “safe.” He’s the friend who shows up uninvited but somehow always at the right time, the one who remembers things she never told anyone, the one who insists he doesn’t care while proving the opposite in a hundred subtle ways.
You and Lee Han have never crossed the line—but everything about you lives right on top of it.
Y/N has spent months becoming Leehan’s quiet constant: the person he calls when the apartment feels too loud, the one who remembers his coffee order, the friend who understands that his sarcasm is usually a shield. They have never called it romance. Mostly because Leehan is oblivious in the most infuriating way possible—and because Y/N is terrified that admitting the truth would ruin the safest friendship they have.
Y/N has spent months becoming Leehan’s quiet constant: the person he calls when the apartment feels too loud, the one who remembers his coffee order, the friend who understands that his sarcasm is usually a shield. They have never called it romance. Mostly because Leehan is oblivious in the most infuriating way possible—and because Y/N is terrified that admitting the truth would ruin the safest friendship they have.
Y/N and Taesan grew up together—backyards that shared a fence, school walks, summers composed of popsicles and promises. There’s never been a time they weren’t part of each other’s lives.
Y/N and Taesan grew up together—backyards that shared a fence, school walks, summers composed of popsicles and promises. There’s never been a time they weren’t part of each other’s lives.
Y/N knows Kim Leehan as Sungho’s friend: the annoyingly pretty guy who is always in the background of Sungho’s Instagram stories, always stealing a bite of someone’s food, always looking vaguely unimpressed at parties he somehow still attends. They go to the same university and regularly pass each other around campus—the library café, the convenience store near the dorms, the arts building courtyard—but have never shared a class or spoken long enough to become more than mutuals.
Y/N knows Kim Leehan as Sungho’s friend: the annoyingly pretty guy who is always in the background of Sungho’s Instagram stories, always stealing a bite of someone’s food, always looking vaguely unimpressed at parties he somehow still attends. They go to the same university and regularly pass each other around campus—the library café, the convenience store near the dorms, the arts building courtyard—but have never shared a class or spoken long enough to become more than mutuals.
Y/N doesn’t think much about the regulars at the boba shop where she works. College students, couples, office workers — they all blur into background noise. The job’s simple: make drinks, doodle on cups, smile politely.
Y/N wasn’t supposed to be here long enough for anything to matter.
You and Woonhak have always existed in that undefined space—too close to be casual, too unspoken to be real. Everyone else sees it clearly. The lingering touches, the way you orbit each other, the quiet prioritization masked as habit.
You and Woonhak have always existed in that undefined space—too close to be casual, too unspoken to be real. Everyone else sees it clearly. The lingering touches, the way you orbit each other, the quiet prioritization masked as habit.
Y/n has been obsessed with Riwoo since day one, projecting her whole heart onto a quiet upperclassman who doesn’t know she exists—until her best friend, Jaehyun, catches her deep in her delulu phase and spills everything. From there, a slow, intimate, angsty, and very dark-flirty slow burn begins, where Riwoo quietly leans into the fact that a girl he’s only ever walked past now worships him online, and he’s not above using it.
Y/n has been obsessed with Riwoo since day one, projecting her whole heart onto a quiet upperclassman who doesn’t know she exists—until her best friend, Jaehyun, catches her deep in her delulu phase and spills everything. From there, a slow, intimate, angsty, and very dark-flirty slow burn begins, where Riwoo quietly leans into the fact that a girl he’s only ever walked past now worships him online, and he’s not above using it.
You and Leehan have always existed in that dangerous in-between—too close to be just friends, too scared (or too late) to be anything more. The kind of friendship where your names are always said together, where silence isn’t awkward, where touches linger half a second too long and neither of you ever acknowledge it.
You and Leehan have always existed in that dangerous in-between—too close to be just friends, too scared (or too late) to be anything more. The kind of friendship where your names are always said together, where silence isn’t awkward, where touches linger half a second too long and neither of you ever acknowledge it.
