#without having to turn my phone on to skip a song

[maytheamazing]

I want a modern ipod shuffle so fucking bad. I want to be able to use something without needing a fucking screen. How the hell did music consumption peek in 2009 when we were still regularly burning cds and giving USB sticks with playlists for our portable music listening devices that didn't require you to LOOK AT IT to use

[bluebudgie]

technology was just kinda overlapping you know, you didn't really stop using one kind only because there was a newer one. i used both my walkman and discman for years depending on what i wanted to listen to. some stuff was on cassette and some stuff was on cd.

that said the invention of mp3 players was a blessing. no more tangled tape. no more audio hickups on bumpy roads. the only enemy was the 256mb storage limit

[cassiemaebarnes]

Freak Like Me

Bucky x reader

Summary: You got banned from playing music in the training room for a reason, and when an unexpected song plays during your workout, Bucky finds out why.

Word Count: 2311

Thought I'd give you guys something a little more spicy! Hope you enjoy :)

You walked down the hall of the Avengers tower toward the training room, and it was uncharacteristically quiet. You knew a lot of the Avengers had meetings today, but you didn’t think everyone did. You were glad though, because you didn’t really like working out with other people and you could play whatever music you wanted over the speakers.

You listened to a little bit of everything, and that was true for working out too. The music would go from rap, to pop, to rock, and while you didn’t blink an eye, everyone else hated it. So, naturally, you got banned from playing music when everyone else was in there.

You walked around the corner into the training room and came to a stop. Bucky was inside warming up on the treadmill. Of course someone had to be in there, and of course it had to be Bucky. He of all people would be most likely to hate your music.

You hadn’t brought your headphones, and you thought about going back to get them when Bucky looked your way.

“Hey, y/n,” he said, turning off the treadmill.

“Oh, hey Bucky,” you said, realizing it probably looked like you were standing there staring at him.

You walked in and set your stuff down, plugging in your phone by the benches because you forgot to charge it last night.

“What are you hitting today,” Bucky asked.

“Steve is making me do his leg workout,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Yikes, have fun with that.”

Bucky walked over to pick up some weights as you were trying to decide whether or not to ask if you could play music. You assumed he would say no, but decided to ask him anyway.

“Hey Buck, is it cool if I play music?”

“Yeah, go ‘head,” he said, surprising you.

“Oh, okay cool.” You went to your settings to connect your phone to the speakers, then pressed shuffle on your workout playlist. The first song that started playing was an old rock song, so you were hoping Bucky wouldn’t regret saying yes too much. Then, you walked over to the other side of the training room to get set up.

Your playlist went through a bunch of different genres, but thankfully, Bucky didn’t seem to mind. You were both just minding your own business and doing your own thing.

A little bit later, a new song started playing and you heard Bucky call over to you.

“Hey, I actually know this one,” he said, with a proud smile on his face.

You just laughed, listening to the music and realizing it was Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka. It would’ve came out after the 40s, but apparently Bucky still knew it.

But then, you started thinking, this song would not be on your workout playlist. Your eyes went wide when you realized what song it actually was. Freak by Doja Cat.

You quickly reached down for your phone to change the song, only to realize it was still plugged in on the other side of the room. Plus, you couldn’t just change the one song Bucky said he knew without him being suspicious.

You started to freak out, knowing the song would definitely make him uncomfortable, when the music paused for a brief moment. You held your breath for what was coming next.

“Freak like me. You want a good girl that does bad things (to you).”

You looked at Bucky, and you couldn’t see his face because he had his back facing you, but he had stopped in the middle of his workout. You started over to get your phone when he turned around.

“What the heck is this?” he asked, a mix of confusion and horror on his face.

You stopped, trying to figure out how to answer, when the song kept going.

“Tied him down to my queen bed. Tease him just enough to hate me. Tied it tight enough he can’t break free.”

You scurried over to the benches and grabbed your phone, quickly skipping the song. You tried to play it cool, but Bucky was already walking over to you.

“So, is this why you got banned from playing music? You play songs about sex?”

You sighed. “No, they just don’t like that I play so many different genres,” you said, your face heating up.

He just hummed in response, still staring at you with his steel blue eyes.

“And here I was, thinking that you were so innocent,” he said, smirking.

“It’s – just a good song,” you replied, trying to defend yourself. Your face was bright red at this point, and you knew he was loving this, making you squirm.

“So, which one of the guys are you wanting to tie down to your bed, hmm?”

Your jaw dropped, face flushing as you tried to figure out how to respond to that.

“No one,” you said, “it’s just a catchy song.”

“Right,” he responded, his smile getting a little bigger. You knew he was never going to let this go.

“Well, I’m gonna go back to my workout,” you said, walking past him. But before you could get very far, he grabbed your arm and turned you toward him in one quick motion. You were now standing chest to chest, your faces just inches apart.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you played that song on purpose. I mean, we are the only two people in the tower for another couple hours,” he said, his voice low and deeper than it was before, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your jaw dropped slightly once again, trying to figure out if he was being serious or not. Your heart was thumping in your chest, and you hated to admit it, but him pulling you towards him and talking in that voice was making you insanely turned on.

You opened your mouth, but when nothing came out, Bucky’s smirk just got bigger.

“I – I didn’t play that on purpose,” was all you could say.

Finally, Bucky broke character and started to laugh, dropping his hand from your arm. Your skin was still tingling where his hand had been.

“I’m just messing with you y/n,” he said, laughing. “You should’ve seen your face though!”

You stood there in shock as he walked away, trying to wrap your head around what had just happened. You walked back to the other side of the room, but you weren’t able to focus on the rest of your workout. You didn’t dare look over toward Bucky, so you had no idea that his gaze kept shifting to you, distracted from his own workout.

You finished your workout as quickly as possible and made a beeline for the door, grabbing your phone and not saying a word to Bucky as you practically ran out the door.

You were halfway down the hallway before you finally felt like you could breathe again. You didn’t realize how you had basically been holding your breath that whole time. You got back to your room and quickly jumped in the shower, just wanting to relax after how worked up you were.

You stepped out of the shower when you realized you forgot to grab clothes to change into. You sighed, trying not to focus on how nothing seemed to be going your way today. You just wrapped your towel around you after drying off and walked out of the bathroom to your room.

You were halfway down the hallway before you looked up and stopped dead in your tracks. Bucky was standing outside the door to your room.

And you were standing in front of him in nothing but a little towel. Could this day get any weirder?

“Uhh, what are you doing?” you asked.

“Sorry I just – was gonna apologize, but – seems like you’re really trying to get my attention now,” he said, a smirk plastered on his face yet again.

You sighed, determined to not let him get under your skin this time. Maybe you’d have a little fun with him.

“And what if I am?” you said, giving him a smirk of your own.

His smirk turned into a brief second of shock, and you could tell he was caught off guard.

You sauntered down the hallway, walking right past him into your room, but not before running your hand along his arm as you walked past. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked into your room, not bothering to close the door.

You walked over to your dresser, bending over to get clothes out, knowing your towel was long enough to cover you, but not quite long enough to keep Bucky from going a little crazy. You made sure to pick out the tiniest pair of shorts you own and a cropped baby tee.

You turned around grabbing the top of your towel like you were going to drop it at any second. His face was bright red and he looked like a deer in headlights. Man was this fun.

“You standing there hoping for a show, or can I get dressed in peace?”

“Oh, uh – sorry,” he mumbled. He pointed at the door, “do you want me to, uh – never mind,” he put his head down and practically ran the other way.

You tried so hard not to bust out laughing as you went over and shut the door.

Once you put on your clothes, you walked back down to the kitchen to get something to eat. Conveniently, Bucky was right there, sitting at the island.

“Hey Buck,” you said, flashing him a smile.

He looked you up and down, obviously liking what you were wearing.

“Hey,” he finally managed to get out.

“Are you gonna make something for lunch,” you asked him.

“Uhh, yeah I was gonna make some eggs.”

“Oooh, that sounds good, maybe I’ll make some too.” You walked over to the drawer with the pans, exaggerating every movement as you bent over. You knew he was going insane.

“Do you want me to just make yours too,” you asked, not bothering to turn around. You set the pan on the stove, finally turning around when he didn’t answer you.

That’s when you realized he was right behind you, looking at you with a deep intensity in his eyes. He had been so flustered, you didn’t expect him to do anything about it.

He slowly leaned forward, arms grabbing the counter on either side of you, trapping you in place.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Umm, making eggs,” you said, slowly.

“Are you tryna’ kill me, doll?”

The nickname made your stomach flutter.

“I was joking earlier,” he said, “I never thought you’d do it back.”

“And what makes you think I’m joking?” you responded.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I’ve never seen you wear so little clothes around the tower.”

“I was still hot from my workout,” you said, shrugging.

“Oh, trust me, I am too,” he said, lifting his eyebrows.

Bucky didn’t back up, and neither did you.

He looked down at you, his voice rough with restraint. “You keep playing with fire, doll.”

You tilted your head, meeting his stare without flinching. “Maybe I like the heat.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched as his eyes darkened. For a moment, neither of you moved—until he reached up, brushing a strand of damp hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered against your cheek, trailing lightly down your jaw.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured.

“Good,” you whispered, your voice breathy.

And that was all it took. He leaned in fast, pressing his lips to yours with a force that stole your breath. One hand gripped the counter beside you, the other sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You gasped into the kiss, fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt, and he took that opportunity to deepen it—his lips moving hungrily against yours like he’d been waiting for this for far too long.

When you finally pulled apart for air, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard.

“Still want eggs?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You smiled, shaking your head. “Not really.”

Bucky’s smirk returned, but this time it was laced with something deeper—need, maybe, or anticipation. He backed you gently out of the kitchen, never breaking eye contact.

“Then come on, sweetheart,” he said. “Let’s see how hot things can really get.”

And just like that, lunch was officially off the menu.

--

The next morning, you woke up tangled in warm sheets—and even warmer arms.

Bucky was still fast asleep behind you, his chest pressed to your back, metal arm draped lazily over your waist. His steady breathing tickled the back of your neck, and you smiled, remembering the very unexpected turn your day had taken.

You shifted slightly, and his grip tightened instinctively, pulling you even closer. “Mmm… don’t move,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“I thought super soldiers didn’t need this much rest,” you teased softly.

His lips brushed your shoulder. “They don’t,” he murmured. “But if it means waking up next to you like this…I’ll gladly pretend to be human.”

You rolled your eyes with a grin and reached behind you to ruffle his hair. “You’re such a sap.”

He grinned against your skin. “Only for you.”

Your phone buzzed from the nightstand, a text from Nat lighting up the screen:

You forgot to clean the pan from your “egg-making” session yesterday. Sloppy cover story, y/n.

You groaned and hid your face in the pillow as Bucky peeked at the message over your shoulder.

“So… busted?” he asked.

You sighed. “So busted.”

He laughed, pulling you closer again. “Worth it.”

And you had to admit—it really, really was.

[thebestandworstdayofjune]

you can hear it in the silence

summary: you have had an insane crush on Clark since he moved to metropolis, but thank god he has no idea about the way he makes your heart skip a bear every time he smiles (honey, you've got a big storm comin') wc:  1k+  a/n:  Please feel free to send any requests my way!  warnings: general fluff, reader owns a bookstore, reader has no idea about clark's powers, as always the title is from a Taylor Swift song- sue me

“It’s not a big deal, Clark.” you insist, phone squished between your ear and your shoulder. 

“It’s a big deal to me.” he insists, an unusual heaviness to his voice. 

“It will take a while, but I'll manage, I mostly just called to complain.” You surveyed the boxes stacked up in front of the storefront, hands on your hips and a frown playing at the corner of your lips. When your grandmother had left you her quaint bookstore in downtown Metropolis, you had half a mind to sell it off to the first interested buyer. You’d gone as far as contacting a realtor, but cancelled the first showing at the last minute. 

Too much of your childhood was nestled in between the children’s books and the non fiction shelves, too many memories of your grandmother hosting story time and holding copies of the new releases you’ve been dying for to be able to part with it. 

You’d given everyone the day off, a few employees were headed to a festival in the park, someone was on a family vacation and overall, it was meant to be a slow day at the shop. And it was, until the delivery man left you with 30 hulking boxes of new release hard covers. Worse yet, it looked like it was going to rain. 

“I’m on my break, I’ll head over.” 

It was pointless, to argue, once Clark had an idea in his head, he was stubborn. But you were a bit of a slow learner. “By the time you get here your break is going to be awful. I’m sure that traffic is terrible because of the festival.” 

“You have such little faith in me!” you turned to find Clark a ways down the block, arms stretched out, his suit just a big too big on his frame. His hair was windswept, glasses slightly crooked perched on his nose. He jogged towards you, a goofy smile on his face. 

“How do you keep doing this?” If you didn’t know better, you would swear that Clark was psychic. He was somehow always exactly where you needed him to be. 

Clark slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you tight against his side for a moment. “Just gifted I guess.” He gave you another squeeze before releasing you and stepping back to assess the situation. “You sure you ordered enough?” 

You playfully shoved him, but he didn’t even wobble. Clark had been your rock ever since he moved into the city. You’d been close falling off a ladder, stretching to dust the top of a shelf when the ladder had begun to tilt. He’d tripped over a stack of books on the way, but he managed to prop the ladder back upright, you along with it. “We have that signing in a couple weeks, didn’t want to run out.” 

All he did was nod, shrugging off his suit jacket that somehow was just a bit too big for his frame and rolled up the sleeves of his white button down. “We’ll take care of it,” he said, voice sure. And with the way he managed to lift three of the boxes as if they were full of pillows, you were inclined to believe him. 

It had taken the two of you all of five minutes to get everything inside, not that Clark had allowed you to move more than the first box. “You make a way better doorman anyways.” He joked without malice. You were leaning up against the counter, your shoulder bumping into his arm. 

“Don’t say I never do anything for you, Clark.” 

“I never would.” Your gaze was fixed firmly on the floor, but you could feel the intensity in his gaze burning into the side of your head, regardless. You settle for leaning a bit of your weight against him, taking comfort in his arm wrapping around your shoulders, pulling you close. 

“Wait,” you turned, nearly crawling across the counter to wake up the computer sitting on the other side of the counter. “You’re going to be late!” 

“When have I ever been late?” you could hear the laughter in his voice, but you ignored it in favor of grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. You grabbed his shoulders, and mercifully he let you guide him to the door. You knew from past experience if he didn’t want to go, there was no way to move him. 

“Last week, I was stranded at the Thai place down the street!” 

He stopped dead in his tracks, leaning against the doorway and pushing the curls resting on his forehead away with the back of his hand. He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “For how long?” 

“That’s not the point, you presented the information as an objective truth!” you resisted the urge to stomp your foot, he was already looking pointedly at your crossed arms and making the face he does when he’s trying not to laugh in your face. 

“I asked a question, I think the trouble lies in your interpretation.” He was leaning down to meet your eyes, and you were thankful there was no way he could hear the way your heart was pounding. "And it was only five minutes."

You shoved him gently, ignoring the fact that he didn’t so much as wobble. “You’re going to be late, go!” You both paused, the moment heavy between you. All you could focus on was the rise and fall of his chest under your hands for a few moments. One of his hands rested over both of yours, squeezing briefly before stepping back and letting your hands drop. 

“Be careful on the ladder this time.” 

“Go!” 

He lingered for a few moments longer, giving you a final once over before nodding to himself and spinning on his heel. After a few steps, he turned around to face you, his head sticking up above the crowd of people on the sidewalk. “We still on for dinner?” 

“Late!” you laughed, waving him off. He raised his eyebrows, unphased by the people forced to part around him. “Yes! Now go!” 

You stood in the doorway, watching him duck and dodge the other pedestrians for longer than you would admit, thankful that he hadn’t turned and caught you. 

Unfortunately for you, even in a crowd of people with his back turned, he couldn’t help but be aware of you. You just didn’t know it yet.

[sparklingchim]

summer playlist; m | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 4k

genre: hockeyplayer!jungkook, richgirlie!oc, college!au, fwb, brother's best friend

rating: 18+

warnings: semi public sex, blowjob, spanking, jk is truly obsessed w her <3, protected sex, nipple play, jk leaves a hickey n oc gets upset 🙄, spit, dirty talk, his necklace dangling in her face 😋, jk's rejection count: TWO !!!!, pls someone hug him 🫂, fingering, clit play, groping

summary: pov: jungkook dedicates a cute playlist to you and fucks you to it on the balcony.

a/n: ur honour i was forced to write this don't come for me !!! 👉🏼👈🏼 enjoy the filth 😋

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

One of your favourite forms of self-care and relaxation is Pilates.

You love dressing up in your cute gym wear sets – you own countless of them, even though you never actually work out in the gym; they’re purely for the aesthetics – and grabbing a big water bottle along with your laptop for at least half an hour dedicated me-time.

It’s a bright morning and you’re on the balcony. The sun is gently warming the air as you’re following a Pilates video on your laptop, which is propped up on the couch. Jungkook’s playlist, the one he created just for you, is playing softly in the background, providing the perfect soundtrack without drowning out the instructor’s voice.

Truly, nothing can beat these types of mornings.

But of course, something had to interrupt your peace.

While you’re on your hands and knees, your phone vibrates next to the mat. You ignore it the first few times, but it keeps buzzing. With an annoyed huff, you grab it and unlock the screen.

Jungkook’s spamming you with numerous messages.

Jungcock 😋

hi

morning

watchu up to

im taking a run in the park

and im boored

are u up?

entertain me

You

omg did you change your contact's name again

stop doing that

how can you text and run?

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he calls you on FaceTime.

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Jungkook says in a raspy voice, the screen shaking a bit as he runs his miles around campus. “I’m good at everything I do.” His tight black tee clings to his chest, displaying his big pecs. You feel your breath hitch and you’re not sure if it’s from your workout or the sight of him.

“Your ego, Jungkook,” you reply, shaking your head in disbelief. “Too big.” You set your phone down with an exasperated sigh, leaning it against the feet of the couch. His eyes drift down to your cleavage.

“I think my ego is perfectly fine. Flashing his dimples as you roll your eyes at him. “What are you doing?” he asks, sounding a bit breathless – so hot, but you brush it off. You’re a strong girl, after all.

“Was doing Pilates until you rudely interrupted me,” you say skipping back on the YouTube video and picking up where you left off. “Don’t you have other girls to entertain you?”

“None of them are as cute as you,” he replies smoothly, and you can’t help but wish he wouldn’t be so good at flirting. “You look hot in that fit.”

“Thanks.” You follow the instructions on the screen. It turns out to be a bit harder to focus with a sweaty, ruggedly handsome Jungkook right beneath it.

“Are you listening to my playlist?”

“Yeah,” you admit, smiling.

Your thoughts wander back to the time Jungkook made that playlist for you. You had told him you never really listened to playlists, just played one song and let the auto-play feature do the rest. He was so stunned by that revelation that he spent an afternoon creating a cute little summer playlist just for you.

“Good choice,” he grins, clearly pleased with himself.

“I actually really like the playlist.”

“Of course. I make the best playlists,” he boasts, and you can’t help but chuckle at his confidence.

An exhausted sigh escapes your lips. After finishing the set, you change into the child pose and take deep breaths, relaxing the muscles.

“Taehyung’s at his morning class?” he asks.

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I come over?”

You lift your head to look at the screen. He’s running at a more leisurely pace, looking even more irresistible.

“Like, right now?”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m busy,” you argue, teasing him with a thoughtful pout. On the screen, the instructor announces that the little break is over, and you should get ready for your next set, but you’re not listening anymore. What’s happening on the little screen in front of you is far more enticing.

“Busy, huh?” he mocks with a smirk. “Maybe I can help you with what you’re doing.” His eyes light up with excitement as he pushes his hair from his forehead. “Or you wanna get busy together?”

Unfortunately, it seems you’re not as strong a girl as you thought. You’re very weak. His teasing question, coupled with his wicked tongue grazing his lip piercing, has you weak in the knees. You want nothing more than him on the couch and you straddling him.

“I won’t take up too much of your time,” he promises, the sweet smile back on his face. “Unless you want me to.” He raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“Just come over,” you tell him with a hint of irritation.

Jungkook has the audacity to chuckle, and you frown at him.

“Be quick, or I’ll change my mind.”

~

“Hi.” Jungkook pokes his head out from the balcony.

You squeal, placing a hand over your chest.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “What happened to ringing the bell like normal visitors?”

“Why did you give me the passcode then?” he retorts cheekily, ogling the snug fit of your gym wear.

“Because I had severe cramps and didn’t wanna get up from the couch.”

Thinking back on that specific day, you feel a spark of giddiness bloom in your chest. You had gotten your period, were battling atrocious cramps, and top of it, you had run out of pads. With Taehyung not home and needing them urgently, you knew Jungkook was always quick to reply to your texts. So, you decided to ask him if he could pick up some pads for you.

Twenty minutes later, he showed up at your door not only with the pads but also with snacks. You could see the faint pink flush on his cheeks when he asked, “Girls like eating chocolate when they’re on their period, right?” and hesitantly handed you the snacks.

And then, you did something that still makes you ponder at night – you cuddled without having had sex before. Oddly enough, it felt more intimate than any sexual encounter. Granted, you did get up to some naughty things afterwards, but still. Jungkook had cuddled you through your cramps and even endured watching reality tv shows he claims to despise once again.

“Well, I didn’t wanna disrupt you.” Jungkook walks over to the couch. He grabs your laptop, settles down, and places it on his lap. “Not now, anyway.”

You shift to sit on your knees. Briefly glancing at the screen where the instructor does the next set of exercises before drifting to Jungkook’s smitten face. His skin glistens with a thin sheen of sweat, and his chest still rises and falls a bit faster than usually.

You nod towards him, eyes clinging to his muscular thighs that peek out from his shorts. “How am I supposed to focus when-” When you look like that. But the words catch in your throat.

Jungkook is so shamelessly cocky, he places his hands behind his head. “When what?”

You sigh in irritation, close the video, and slide the laptop off his lap and onto the couch. He opens his legs for you. “Forget this,” you huff, placing your hands on his knees. Jungkook leans in, crashing his lips onto yours, his hand cupping your face.

The kiss is needy and messy. He teases you with his tongue, and you playfully respond until he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, causing you to moan and lose yourself in the feeling of his mouth. In less than a minute, Jungkook has you completely pliant in his embrace.

The balcony is surrounded by tall privacy screens and partially shaded by a large canopy, providing privacy from prying eyes.

Your hands slide up his legs, underneath his shorts. You feel his thighs flex on your palm and you squeeze them back in response.

“Wanna feel your mouth,” Jungkook whispers against your lips, sighing in pleasure when you just barely graze your fingers against his cock that strains against the material of his briefs.

Jungkook impatiently pulls down his shorts and briefs and you help him. His cock springs out and stands prettily against his abdomen. Your mouth waters and you have to tell yourself to calm down – he's just a boy and you’re too whipped.

You spit on his cock and coat his length with it. You twist your hand as you slowly pump him and he grows even harder within your grasp, becoming veiny and heavy. You stick out your tongue and give him a few licks over his tip. Jungkook sharply inhales, a gentle moan following right after when he sees you tapping his dick against your tongue.

“Fuck, babe.” He takes his cock in his own hand and continues tapping his head against your tongue. He runs his tip across your mouth too, watching with keen, clouded eyes as he creates a little mess on your face. When he’s finished, he lets you grab his cock again. You wrap your lips around his dick and start bobbing your head up and down.

“That’s right,” he says, brushing your hair behind your ear. His eyes close as you take him deeper into your mouth and his head falls back. With his palm on the back of your head, he presses your head down. A curse flees his lips as almost his entire length vanishes into your mouth.

Jungkook forces his eyes open and moans at the sight of your mouth full of his cock. He loves watching you suck his cock and you love hearing him moan for you.

You’re a little breathless when you release his cock with a lewd pop sound, and your eyes a bit teary too. You stroke his dick and dip down to suck on his balls.

“So good. Fuck – you know what to do,” he mumbles like he’s drunk and you giggle at his comment.

“You like that?”

“So fucking much.” His hand caresses your head, so soft at handling you, but the way desire pinches his brows together shows how much he is struggling to restrain himself from just shoving his entire length down your throat. “Come here.” His tatted hand glides down your shoulder, pulling you up onto his lap.

He squeezes your ass and delivers it a little smack. “You’re so hot.” He peeks over your shoulder, watching the supple flesh fill his hands completely.

“How can you claim to be an everything guy when you’re clearly an ass guy.”

Jungkook takes offense at that. “I am an everything guy!” His hands quickly move to your breasts and he kneads them through your sports bra. “I love your tits just as much.” The tight material presses them snugly together. “I love every part of you.”

You feel a gentle warmth in your cheeks, but you laugh it off. “That is so playboy behaviour of you, Jungkook.”

A frown spreads on his face, lips puckering the slightest bit. “I’m no playboy,” he grumbles as he plays with your tits. Planting little kisses along your neck as if to add sincerity to his words.

You push his arms away and try to stand up, but Jungkook quickly pulls you back onto his lap, firmly gripping your waist.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his tone almost scolding. You grasp his wrist, but he doesn’t let go, his hands remaining firmly in place.

“Condoms,” you remind him. He lets out a quiet, muffled “oh”, and his grip loosens with a reluctant sigh. “’Cause, you know. We hook up with other people.”

Jungkook scoffs at your remark.

“What?” Tilting your head slightly. “I saw you with Nayeon at the party.” You try to sound as least huffy as you can.

“And you fucked Eunwoo,” he counters.

You actually didn’t – you just made out with him. You deliberately chose a spot so Jungkook could see you from the couch, with Nayeon clinging to his side, just because you wanted him to see you.

“So?”

Jungkook levels you with a piercing gaze but remains quiet. He gives your butt a pat and nods towards the balcony door. “Go get the condom.”

When you fetch a condom from your room and return to Jungkook, you see saliva dripping from his lips and he lubes himself up as his pretty fingers wrap around him and stroke his cock. He looks unfairly hot doing the filthiest things.

“Bend over my lap,” he instructs when you hand him the condom, but he ignores it and drops it next to him.

He helps you settle onto his lap, your tummy pressed against one of his thighs and your ass in the air. Jungkook rolls the tight fabric of your shorts over your ass. He flicks your panties aside and groans at the pretty sight in front of him. Wet pussy peeks out from between your soft thighs.

His finger swipes across your pussy. “So wet for me. Can’t wait to have my dick in your pussy, huh?” He rubs your arousal over your pussy, spreading your folds to spit and make an even bigger mess. He’s having so much fun teasing and rubbing you, playing a little with your clit and dipping the tip of his finger inside you.

“Jungkook,” you whine, looking over your shoulder. “We don’t have that much time.”

“Sorry.” He circles your hole with two fingers and plunges them deep inside you. “Better, princess?” he asks after you choke on a moan, mocking you with fake sympathy.

“Yeah, better.” The words roll off your tongue in a soft whisper. Jungkook curls his fingers and your eyes roll involuntarily. “So good.” His other hand rolls the plump flesh of your ass around his palm, sometimes squeezing and leaving his fingerprints on your skin.

He’s fast in figuring out a rhythmic way to move his fingers that instantly unfurls pleasure all over your body. Jungkook knows your body all too well; he has perfected the art of knowing what you like the most.

It makes you think back to high school when you had the biggest, silliest crush on him and wanted nothing more than his attention. Who could blame you? Your older brother’s hot best friend was the captain of the school’s hockey team and practically lived at your house.

Of course, developing a crush on him was inevitable. But you never showed him that you found him cute – you treated him like your older brother’s annoying best friend who was always around. Bickering was just the nature of your friendship. Sometimes, you’d get annoyed when your dad paid more attention to Jungkook. It wasn’t because he preferred Jungkook over you, but because your dad, a high-profile NHL General Manager, supported the boys on their journey.

Every girl in school was swooning over him – they still are. And you’re not the only girl he’s paying attention to. You have to force yourself to admit that he’s hooking up with other girls too, because denying it would make this seem so serious, and the thought of things becoming serious scares you.

You’re content with how things are between you two – you’re not foolish enough to turn this simple, silly arrangement into something serious when you know it wouldn’t last. Taehyung being the main reason for that. But you don’t want Jungkook in a romantic way anyway, and he doesn’t too.

Jungkook smacks your butt, soothing the sharp hit by running his hand over your burning skin right after. “Want your little pussy to be a mess for me.”

It is, you want to say. You are. But you’re lost in the tingling pleasure that clouds your mind, leaving you with nothing but desperate need for him. Any rational thoughts vanish, replaced by an angelic, repetitive chant of his name. Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

And with only Jungkook your mind, you cum around his fingers, walls clenching as the rush of your high envelops you completely.

“Good girl.” His fingers lather your slick all over your pussy, marvelling at how much it glistens under the sun, watching how it sticks to the pad of his fingers in little strings. “So pretty.” He discards your shorts and panties before pulling you up and making you straddle him.

Your arms drape over his shoulders as he takes in your weary expression, a small smirk rising on his face.

“So annoying,” you mutter and his smile grows wider. You smooch his dimple and rest your forehead against his neck when Jungkook rolls the condom over his cock and you feel him lift your hips up a little to align his tip with your entrance.

He stretches you out in a familiar, delicious way. Burying himself so deep inside you as you sink down on him. Your nose brushes his jaw and a shaky moan bubbles up when you move your hips and feel the full size of his cock.

Jungkook hands stay on your hips, guiding your movements before they sneak behind you and anchor themselves in your butt and you sniff a laugh, leaning back to peer at his face.

“Why?” he questions, curiosity piqued. Even though he doesn’t know why you’re amused, a soft smile spreads on his face.

“Nothing.” Your fingers gently weave through his smooth hair, playing with the strands at the back of his head. “Just you.”

The corners of his mouth curl upward and a satisfied, cocky glint settles in his eyes.

“Take this off,” you say, tugging at the tight-fitting shirt covering his upper half. Jungkook pulls it over his head, revealing a shiny silver necklace decorating his neck. “Is this new?” You trace the delicate chain with your nail.

“Yeah,” he grins proudly. Setting your laptop aside on the coffee table, he manhandles you onto your back, pushing his cock even further into you as he sits on his knees and leans over you. “You like it?”

The necklace dangles just above your face, its silver chain shimmering and momentarily catching your attention. You pull him closer by tugging on it.

“It’s pretty. Suits you.”

The compliment conjures a boyish smile on his lips, making his face soften with a warm, endearing glow – such a sweet contrast to the way he pounds into you with practised movements, his skin covered in sweat yet again, but not for the innocent reason of keeping fit for hockey, but for the wicked reason that Jungkook can’t control his desire to fuck his best friend’s younger sister and keeps coming back to you despite having so many other options.

Jungkook drags your bra down and squeezes your breast, loving the heavy feel of your supple flesh filling his closed fist.

You throw your legs around his waist to pull him even closer to you, if that’s even possible, and Jungkook deepens his thrusts, leaving you gasping for air and holding onto his shoulders, needing something to sink your nails into.

He dips his head down and catches your pebbled and sensitive nub in his mouth, sucking and licking and making your moans whinier. Jungkook leaves tiny flecks of spit on your skin as he peppers your chest and neck with smooches.

Jungkook’s touches send waves of euphoria through you, leaving your thoughts scattered and your senses heightened by how good he makes you feel, chasing your high as you concentrate on the way he reaches your sweet spot every time his body meets yours, so you only realise Jungkook is nibbling and sucking on your neck when you feel his teeth poke you.

“Jungkook,” you scold him, yanking him by the hair.

“What?” He peers at you through his big, round doe eyes.

“Why would you do that?” Your finger grazes the spot where he was just working hard to create a little hickey. “You know I don’t like that.”

“But you look pretty with it.” His brows raise to make his point clear. “Trust me.” He smiles at you in an annoyingly charming way, giving the freshly created hickey a gentle kiss. “A little love bite.” Love bite. You don’t want to dwell on how those words make you feel.

The only thing you want to think about is how close you are to cumming.

“Don’t do that again.” You avoid his gaze and cast it downwards, where he disappears into you. “Just– just make me cum.”

He pushes your leg up, his palm firmly against the back of your thigh. His sparkly necklace catches your attention, swinging in front your face, and it's the way he looks – his face flushed with desire, eyes smouldering, and every muscle taut with intensity – that makes it impossible to look away, leaving you completely captivated as you listen to his pretty moans that sound even better than the song playing in the background.

Your fingers trail down his chest, brushing over his hard abs as a faint attempt to moan his name rolls of your tongue and you bask in the bliss that floods through you.

“Fuck, ___,” he rasps when he feels you squeezing his cock. “Gonna cum too.”

His thrusts become sloppy as Jungkook loses himself in the feeling of release. His moans are breathy and low and you hear him stutter when he finally comes undone too. The muscles on his tummy clench and you feel his grip on your thigh tighten as Jungkook moves his hips slowly now. With rosy cheeks and a look of deep satisfaction brightening his face, he leans in, and presses a fervent kiss to your lips.

You’d love to stay like this with him a bit longer, teasing and annoying each other until you’re ready for another round. But the reminder that Taehyung’s class will end soon brings you back to reality. You only ever have these secret moments for a limited time before reality comes crashing back down.

“Think we should head inside?” you ask.

“Uh-huh.” He’s busy dotting your neck with gentle kisses.

���You’d have to get off me, y’know?”

He chuckles, and you feel a ticklish flutter in your tummy.

“Just wait a minute.”

~

You step back inside once you’re both clothed again and you managed to pry Jungkook off you after he stubbornly clung to you for what felt like ages. Definitely longer than just a minute.

“We could make this exclusive, if you’d want that,” Jungkook proposes, stepping closer and you feel his heavy gaze lingering on you.

“Huh?” You’re busy with closing the balcony door, cursing the insects that always manage to invade your apartment. Taehyung’s been promising to put up the insect screen for months.

Jungkook helps you close the door with a strong push. “If the condoms annoy you, we could stop hooking up with other people.”

“Oh,” you utter, surprised.

If you’re honest with yourself, you have to admit that Jungkook has ruined you for other guys. No other boy quiet hits the same after experiencing how Jungkook treats you in bed. There is a reason why girls blush and giggle and crave his attention whenever he walks by. He’s just that good.

But being exclusive means spending even more time together, which increases the chance of Taehyung finding out.

You cringe at the thought of that.

“We’d practically be begging Taehyung to catch us like fools,” you tell him.

Just then, you hear someone type in the code and the front door opens.

Quickly, like a practised move, you put distance between you and Jungkook.

“You hungry, ___?” Taehyung calls out, emerging from the hallway. His gaze is focused on his phone as he types, until he notices you and Jungkook and stops in his tracks. “I was just about to call you for breakfast.” He lifts the bag from your favourite bakery. “What are you doing here?”

“I knew you’d invite me for breakfast.” Jungkook beams, reaching for the bag.

Taehyung’s gaze shifts to you, but you quickly brush past him. “I’m gonna take a shower. Don’t wait for me!”

“Did you come from a workout?” You hear Taehyung ask Jungkook.

Jungkook says yes, but he doesn’t tell your brother what kind of workout.

And moments like these are exactly why you want to keep things as they are with Jungkook.

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

read more of this couple here <3

[wendyyyyyyyy]

"The Princess and her Eight Knights"

Pairing : skz x fem reader (9th member, maknae)

Synopsis : Skz members taking care of you during that time of your month, while you were on tour.

Warning : No warning at all. Just pure fluff and wholesomeness all the way.

Enjoy!

----------

The day of the concert was already shaping up to be chaotic, and you weren’t exactly in the best mood. During soundcheck the day before, you had been snappy and bratty with everyone, but the boys knew better than to take it personally. Felix, being your self-proclaimed “bestie,” had pulled Hyunjin aside with a knowing smirk, whispering, “It’s time.”

“Again?” Hyunjin muttered with a sigh, rolling his eyes. But there was no annoyance behind it—only quiet understanding.

Felix, ever prepared, pulled out his phone and checked the tracker he’d set up for you months ago. You were too lazy to bother with one yourself, so he had taken it upon himself to track it for you, much to your embarrassment. “Yep. She probably doesn't even realize it yet.”

Later that evening, Hyunjin and Lee Know made a quick convenience store stop. While it was still to grab their own essentials, they secretly loaded their basket with your favorite ice cream and a stash of chocolates.

“She’ll be insufferable if we don’t have these,” Lee Know muttered with a smirk.

“She’s already insufferable,” Hyunjin shot back, chuckling as he placed the items on the counter.

. . .

Fast forward to the day of the concert.

You were doing your best to push through. The lights were blinding, the screams of STAY filling the massive venue as adrenaline coursed through your veins. But halfway through one of the songs, you began to feel an all-too-familiar discomfort—a dull ache in your abdomen, along with that unsettling dampness.

You froze, panic rising in your chest as you realized what had happened. You tried to continue performing, but the next time you turned, Seungmin’s sharp eyes caught the faint but noticeable red stain forming on your white pants, just below your hip.

Without a word, Seungmin took off his jacket mid-performance and draped it around your waist, securing it tightly. The move was subtle, but STAY noticed, gasps and murmurs rippling through the crowd. You wanted to cry from embarrassment, but there wasn’t time to dwell on it.

Han, quick on his feet, immediately moved toward you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as he led you off stage. “Come on, let’s get you changed,” he whispered, his tone gentle.

The fans watched as the boys seamlessly adjusted their positions on stage, filling in for you without skipping a beat. Their professionalism was flawless, but their care for you was even more apparent, and the entire venue seemed to soften at the sight.

. . .

Backstage, you were still mortified. By the time you changed and cleaned up, the concert was wrapping up, and you felt the weight of the day crashing down on you.

Back at the hotel, you curled up in bed, ready to hide from the world. But that peace didn’t last long. A knock on your door made you groan, and when you opened it, Changbin stood there with the biggest grin on his face, holding out a hot pack.

“Special delivery!” he announced, wiggling the hot pack in his hand. “Look, it has my face on it. You’re welcome.”

You let out a laugh despite yourself, grabbing it from him. “Seriously? Only you would do this.”

But before you could shut the door, Hyunjin and Felix appeared, carrying bags of goodies. “Don’t think you’re getting rid of us,” Felix teased.

Hyunjin smirked as he plopped down on your bed, holding up a tub of your favorite ice cream. “We come bearing gifts.”

Soon, the rest of the boys filed in—Lee Know with a bag of chocolates, I.N clutching a stack of your favorite DVDs, and Han holding a fluffy blanket he had swiped from his own room.

“Group movie night!” I.N declared, setting up the portable DVD player on the desk.

“Guys, I’m fine. Really,” you tried to protest, but they weren’t having it.

“You say that, but you were crying over a jacket an hour ago,” Seungmin quipped, earning a chorus of laughs.

Changbin handed you the hot pack, his tone suddenly soft. “Seriously, though. You don’t have to be embarrassed. We’ve got you, okay?”

“Always,” Chan added from his spot on the couch, busy working on his laptop, but with a warm smile on his face.

And just like that, the room filled with laughter and teasing as you all settled in for the night. You felt a little embarrassed still, but more than that, you felt loved.

. . .

The next morning, “The Princess and Her Eight Knights” was trending on X. Clips of Seungmin wrapping his jacket around you, Han leading you backstage, and the way all of them subtly taking care of you had gone viral, with fans swooning over how considerate they were.

Chan showed you the hashtag over breakfast, a small smile on his face. “Looks like STAY thinks you’re royalty now.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a little like a princess—because you had eight knights who always had your back.

[lietogirlsss]

COULDN'T MAKE IT ANY HARDER !

joaquin torres x fem!reader

: in which you and joaquin have known eachother as teenagers. You thought he was a pain in the ass and he spent everyday proving you wrong. Now that he's Captain America's protege, you've gotten a call that he was in the hospital after falling into the Indian Ocean, you'd do anything to go back to those days again.

: this was hardkey inspired by danny's interview in a talkshow, the coincidences are WILD. For the purpose of the plot, you and joaquin grew up in Miami.

: use of petnames, swearing, blood, implied death, implied murder, police chases, sort of spicy scene, reader speaks spanish. Lmk if I translated any of the words wrong!

MIAMI, 2017

"CHECK IT OUT! I'M GUNNA DO IT!"

"JOAQUIN YOU ASSHAT GET DOWN FROM THERE! WE'RE GUNNA GET CAUGHT!"

You push your sunglasses above your eyes as you whirl over your shoulder to see Joaquin and another one of your friends Javi clamber on top of a second floor balcony overlooking the pool where all eight of you had broken into instead of attending 7th period on a particularly sweltering Friday afternoon. The news forecast advised everybody to stay inside and to hydrate frequently, but then again it was Florida, so naturally it fell on deaf ears.

The entire hotel, was closed off because of a bedbug infestation reported by a couple of tourists flocking to Miami because of summer, it's been a month since they fumigated the entire hotel and all you had to do was dodge a couple security guards. Which wasn't hard at all, you and your friend Sofia who was in your AP Physics class just fluttered your eyelashes at them long enough so that the others could get in.

Sofia who was currently in the water waded towards you who was propped up on your elbows, glancing up at Joaquin and Javi in the distance with stupidly wide grins on their faces, illuminated by scattered rays of golden sunlight shining through the trees from the penthouse. "We're gunna be busted thanks to them."

"Hey, why do you look so worried? I thought you wanted to skip class with us?" You wondered, raising a quizzical brow at her.

"I did, but now I think I shoulda just sat this one out. Listen to a white man teach me a language I already know." Sofia professed, taking a swig of Bud Light. "What if we get caught, man? If my parents find out about this i'm screwed."

"No pasa nada, If your parents are gunna chew you up so are mine, alright? We're in this together." You reassure her, laughing through your nose. "Besides, school ends tomorrow, they shouldn't get their panties in such a twist." Your statement then earns you a poke in the side making you cringe and let out a cackle. Don't worry about it.

You watch as Joaquin and Javi shimmy in front of the handrails of the balcony clearly preparing themselves to jump, in Joaquin's hand was a can of PBR, the cloud like carbonation from the beer was fizzing out from a slit on the side so that he and Javi could shotgun before diving into the pool. You watch how the liquid runs down Joaquin's arm, eventually making an unattractive splattering sound on the floor below.

"WHO WANTS TO SEE ME AND JAVI SHOTGUN THIS BEER BEFORE DIVING INTO THE POOL?!?"

The rest of your friends cheered and hollered. But you scoffed, immensely unimpressed, you always thought Joaquin was incredibly full of himself and was the main reason all of you kept getting caught. Sure, you shouldn't be there in the first place but sneaking into them would have been a hell of a lot easier without Joaquin roping in Javi to do stupid stunts with him. You scoffed once more as you turn your attention back to your phone to choose another song from your playlist; But before you could shove your earbud back into your left ear you hear Joaquin yell,

"WHAT DO YOU SAY Y/N? YOU THINK I CAN MAKE THE JUMP?"

You shoot him a disdained look, scowling from your spot by the pool. "Hopefully not, maybe then your mother would actually be proud of something you did."

Joaquin jeers playfully, even going as far as pouting at you from such a distance. "Oh come on angel! Have some faith in me!"

"Yeah Y/N! have some faith!" Javi chimes in, delighted as ever.

You shift your body in such a way that your front would be fully facing him. "I don't wanna have to explain to your mother her son nose dived onto solid concrete, I don't think I'd be able to keep a straight face."

Joaquin in return makes a face at you, half in disbelief, half in amusement whilst on the brink of laughter yet again. "Oh trust me, you'd be devastated if anything happened to this face." He replies all bold and cocksure.

You hummed. "I don't even think you can spell devastated if your life depended on it."

"¡Carajo, can too!" He riposted confidently. "How about this, every time I get a letter correct is how long we gotta kiss." Damn it.

You laugh through your nose as everyone around you started hooting and hollering. "Where are we middle school? Please, if I wanted a kiss that badly I would've just stuck my face in front of a slobbering dog, even then it would be less sloppy."

Joaquin then makes a face, almost like he's just been stabbed. You roll your eyes at him for the umpteenth time. "I can't tell you how hurtful that is to me, especially since we've never even kissed before so you're basically going off of nothing here."

"And I'd like to keep it that way." You drawled as a matter of factly.

"If you two end up killing yourselves before graduation I'm actually going to burn you alive!" Another one of your friends, Isabelle, yelled from the edge of the pool before your other friend Mason grabs her by the waist and leaped into the pool with her. Everyone erupts in a chorus of laughter.

"What do you say Y/N? You up for it???" Joaquin hollers.

"In your-"

Your statement was short-lived when all of you hear shuffling from one of the farthest hallways almost like running. Your head snaps towards that direction just seconds before you heard the security guards yelling expletives and empty threats. All 8 of you scampered off with your shit, some leaping out of the pool, some even leaving their shoes behind. You sling your bag over your shoulder and start running towards the exit, in your peripheral you spot Joaquin and Javi climbing back onto the balcony as you follow Sofia out of there.

The guards were relentless despite their physique, being able to stay hot on your tail as you, Sofia, and Mason dart off in different directions, not before agreeing to meet up at a local mom n' pop shop a couple blocks from there that sold "naturally flavored" slushees. As you tiptoed your way through the barren outdoor bar, you found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder as the blazing afternoon sun battered it's unforgiving rays onto your face which made your hair cling to your skin uncomfortably, not a gust of wind blowing past.

Then you suddenly felt a hand wrap its fingers around your arm making you whirl around in shock, only to be met by Joaquin shooting you one of his signature shrewd yet saccharine smiles, a lone finger resting atop his lips as the sun illuminated his skin like it was glittering gold. Glittering gold? What are you? a fucking poet?

You tugged your hand forcefully out of his grasp, snapping yourself out of it. "You asshole! What the fuck were you thinking?!?"

Joaquin chuckles at your face, how your narrowed eyes expressed both disdain, relief and also an intense blaze of hatred. "That's a little hurtful don't you think? Whatever happened to 'hey joaquin?' or maybe even a 'sup sexy', hmm?"

You shoot him a deranged look as you jab him in the side causing him to recoil in pain. "I thought I was caught! What the fuck man?!?"

"Do you really think a guard would hold your arm the way I did?" Joaquin wheezed out, a certain sourness to his face as he kneads his gut. "Some fucking guard, I was being gentle as hell."

You roll your eyes at his excessive dramatics. "Oh come on, I didn't hit you that hard... Did I? "

"You definitely didn't." He says, making your face crease even more. "It's just that while we were running away I fell down a flight of stairs tryna get away from the guards, landed on my side, heard a crack. They almost cuffed my ass."

Your eyes widen, shame and regret overcoming you as you realize maybe you shouldn't have punched him. "Oh shit-! Oh my god I'm so sorry... Lemme take a look-" You babble abashed, eyes zeroing on the area where Joaquin had his hand pressed against.

"Hey, no, it's alright." He insists, a coy smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. "I'm alright angel I swear-"

"The hell you are, just lemme take a look, coño." You counter. "Here, lift up your shirt, I gotta see if it's swelling-"

After all that he still manages to laugh. "Can't a girl take a guy out to dinner first? Damn."

"Shut up." You say, focused, swatting his hand away. "Let me look at it, Joaquin."

"Dawww, look at you all concerned about me." He crooned, giving you a dopey smile. "Makes me actually wish I threw myself down a flight of stairs."

You take a step back, glaring at him in disbelief. "Oh you're sick."

"I think you mispronounced 'devilishly handsome'."

You scoffed, walking away from him before he jogs up to you, facing you as he starts walking backwards. "Hey, look, it isn't funny I got it. Apology accepted? Great! thanks. I knew you'd come around, angel."

"I actually thought I hurt you, dumbass."

"Hey, you could never hurt me, not for lack of trying but definitely because you don't know how to throw a punch for your life."

"Oh my god!" You exclaim in irritation.

"Look at you all hot and bothered." Joaquin guffaws at your face. "I wasn't the one that wanted to see me strip myself shirtless out in the open like this."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "I swear to fucking God you're gunna wish-"

"HEY I CAN HEAR SOME OF 'EM OVER HERE!"

You and Joaquin turn your heads towards the voice before glancing at each other. "You wanna hold onto that sentiment?"

"Actually, I think this argument can wait. Part 2?"

"Jesus, just can't get enough of me, can you?" Joaquin accuses, shaking his head at you in disbelief. "I hate to say it, I think you're obsessed with me."

"You wish." You say biting down a grin with everything in you whilst pushing him away, hearing his raucuous laugh as both of you ran off as fast as you could. You don't realize he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him this entire time until the both of you managed to run 3 blocks in the summer heat and he lets go of your hand to open the door to the mom n' pop store.

WASHINGTON, 2027

After hours upon hours of surgery Joaquin finally wakes up. His eyelids fluttering open as if it had been the first time in a long time, to a fancy hospital room with scattered beams of sunlight streaming in through the windows.

The last thing he recalls is him flying over Celestial Island, a misunderstanding with Sam which led to a sudden outward burst of bright orange engulfing him, and the faintest feeling of being pulled downwards from the sky. But he didn't expect you sitting on the armchair beside him with your head rested on your hand, eyes shut, and lips parted as he picks up on your soft snoring

Still incredibly lethargic, Joaquin couldn't help but grin at the sight of you. Oh, if only he had the strength to reach over to the bedside table to get his phone and take a picture. He would never let you live it down. In fact he'd probably print multiple copies of it and give them to you every Christmas moving forward, until when who knew.

Just as he was entertaining the thought in his mind, he sees you stir in the chair; letting out a large yawn, you blink repeatedly as your eyes try to get used to the brightness of the room.

"Wakey, wakey." Joaquin teased, causing your head to snap up at him in surprise. His voice still evidently hoarse never lacked the amusement it held wheneve he was a conversation with you. "you came all this way just to visit me huh tonto?" Moron.

You smiled, laughing through your nose. "I didn't have any plans for the weekend." You shrug, rubbing your eye free of the film that stuck it together. "Thought I'd drop by, see how terrible you look."

"Oh yeah? What's your verdict?" Joaquin implored.

"You look like if a sock monkey was put through a meat grinder." You say, punctuating your statement with a giggle that made Joaquin's internal organs do a somersault. "Then again you always look this chopped."

"Wow, way to kick a man while he's down." He replies, fake hurt. "I fell outta the sky a couple days ago, don't I get a day off from your... colorful opinions?"

You shook your head at him. "Nah, not when you made me your emergency contact." You shift in your position, boxing your arms over your chest as you look down at Joaquin with an almost cocksure expression. "Although I do have to say thank you, I met Captain America AND The Winter Soldier. On the same day."

Joaquin tilts his head back against the pillow, grinning at the cieling in disbelief. "See? And you're still convinced I don't do anything for you."

Your snort, chuckling loudly. "For a moment I nearly forgot I ran three red lights for you, all I could think about was how well Bucky fit in that suit-"

"-Three red lights? " Joaquin echoes suddenly, furrowing his eyebrows at you. "Damn, see this is why I made you my emergency contact, you're not afraid to break traffic rules."

"I could think of a dozen other people that you covuld've thought of before you chose me." You retaliated.

"Oh yeah? Do you think they had the guts to run a red light let alone three?"

"All three of your siblings maybe?" You suggest comically. "I dunno, just choose one. They'd be more than willing to run every red light possible."

"Red lights sure, but they weren't ballsy enough to break into a skate park with me at 4am on a school night just to hang out." He argued, smiling at you. "And of course there was that whole fiasco with the hotel on Hibiscus Avenue-"

"Irrelevant, we did that with a ton of friends."

"Yeah sure, let's leave out the fact that we made out twice afterwards." He rolled his eyes. "We didn't do that with 'a ton of friends'." He emphasized, almost mocking you.

You gawk at him in disbelief. "Low. We were 18."

"Hey, at least you can say you made out with The Falcon." Joaquin laughed at you. "Not many people can say that. Now that everybody knows about me because I fell into the stupid ocean you can pull that card whenever you like."

A moments pause.

"Captain America said they had to restart your heart." You brought up, staring at the ECG monitor before sighing. "What were you tryna prove now?"

"That I could do it." He says honestly, the answer practically lunging out of his mouth. "That I could be the next Falcon."

"Except you nearly died." You tell Joaquin, he takes note of your posture, sitting stiffly in the chair as the conversation takes a turn.

"I came back." Joaquin reasoned weakly. "The man upstairs let me off on a warning, says I still got some shit I gotta finish."

"Clearly its because He didn't want anyone face-planting into pillars or pissing off any of the cherubs." You sneered, causing him to let out a huff of laughter. "Its not like you've matured much since we last met. You're still crashing into shit, leaping off shit."

"-Excuse you, that's called falling with style." Joaquin insisted as a matter of factly. "If i learned anything about watching Disney movies everyday when I was a little kid is that Buzz Lightyear would be stinkin' proud if he could see where I am right now."

You don't roll your eyes at him or scoff at him or make yet another witty remark, what you did do surprised him and even you. Your eyes suddenly appeared to be more glassier than usual, you scratch the inner corner of your eye as you frowned at him. "I thought I lost you." You say, the instability of your tone was what made Joaquin's throat tighten.

"I'm still here, I'm right here." Joaquin assured you. "You know a little tumble can't stop me."

"What if next time you don't get so lucky, huh?" You wonder quietly. "What if this is the last time you injure yourself and I don't get to see you wake up high as a fucking kite and grinning at me like I just told you I introduced you to Antman?"

He manages to laugh through his nose. "Angel, have a little faith in me, would you?"

You bristle in your spot, feeling fully awake now. "I hate the fact that you keep putting yourself in situations where you can get hurt. What if eventually my faith just won't cut it anymore? You can't fucking blame me for living in fear." You argue with him as you wept, tears coursing down your cheeks as you chased at them with your palms.

"We aren't kids in Miami anymore, you're not in the air force, you're a superhero. You've got two feet in the grave at this point and I think you're just waiting for someone with a shovel."

Joaquin eyes begun to sting. "That's not fair." He says quietly, shaking his head. "I'm trying to make a difference in the world, a real difference." You knew he was, the both of you grew up watching the Avengers fight crime in New York, then in Sokovia. Now several years later they've got someone that looks like Joaquin helping out the common man. Sure, it was a huge difference. Representation came a long way. But you couldn't deny how terrified you were every time you got an update from him saying he was on a new mission with Captain America

"It wouldn't matter, not when I lose you in the process." You tell him honestly, seeing a tear escape the corner of his eye. "Look we're friends, I- I care about you."

"I care about you too." Joaquin replies, almost a little too quickly, possibly to mask the overwhelming ache in his chest when you bring up the fact that you are just friends. "Maybe a lot. Hell, you're the reason I'm here right now."

You stop to glare at him. "Okay, rude."

"Remember when I told you I only enlisted in the air force because my family couldn't afford to send me off to college?"

You nod, waiting for him to continue.

"We still didn't, but the real reason why is that I wanted to impress you." Joaquin professed, looking back at you with a half-smile, like he didn't just throw you in for a loop. "I know it's stupid-"

"It is, it really is." You interrupt him mid-speech.

"Look, all I wanted is for you to think I'm great..." Joaquin admitted loudly silencing you. Though he regrets it a second later as he wets his lips, lost in thought before speaking once more. "I thought that- that if I made something of myself then maybe you didn't look at me like I was just someone you grew up with that pissed you off all the damn time."

"Why?" You wonder, your brows still furrowed.

Joaquin opens his mouth, then closes it and lets out a huff of laughter. "I dunno, maybe cuz I sort of had a big fat crush on you in highschool."

"Oh yeah, I didn't pick up on that at all." You drawled sarcastically causing Joaquin to laugh at himself in embarrassment prompting you to chuckle at his face.

"Now this is the part where you say you liked me too."

"Is it?" You wonder, drying your eyes. "Huh... too bad."

"Huh... so this is the feeling of getting shot a hundred times." He says with realization.

"You gotta get used to it. You're The Falcon now, you can't cry if you stubbed a toe while trying to do the Michael Jackson lean."

"Hey that toe actually broke, you know."

"You're not helping yourself in this situation." You shook your head as you find yourself laughing at him again. "We really can't have one serious conversation."

If it was possible, Joaquin's smile grows wider. "Admit it, I make you laugh and you love it."

"Never in a million years." You enunciate. "And it dosent count because you're high."

"Me??? High???" He wonders almost scandalised. "Pshhh watch this, D-E-V-A-S-T-E-D."

That gets the tiniest chuckle out of you. "Well done, does somebody want a treat?"

"Nah, I want something better." He says, almost like he was alluding to something you're clearly not aware of.

You shook your head at him as it finally dawned on you. "Hell no, Joaquin."

"Come on!" He insisted as you hide your face in your hands. "You remember that day in the Hotel, right?"

"I'm not kissing you, your breath smells terrible."

"Ahhh so you haven't forgotten. I knew it." Joaquin guffawed, nodding.

"How many times do I gotta say no before you actually listen to me?" You clapped back, almost challenging him.

"D'you wanna find out? Because pucker up buttercu-"

He is swiftly silenced by the sudden collision of your lips onto his, he shuts his eyes closed as you re-angle your face, deepening the kiss. You feel his cold hands cup the side of your jaw, you flinch. He grins against your lips, he's definitely noticed. In return, you gently nibble on his lower lip making him let out a low groan that made you quiver, you lean in closer as if the pair of you weren't close enough at this point, your chest and his near centimetres apart, your heartbeats melding into one.

An intense fervor flourished to life within you as he tucks a strand of hair behind the shell of your ear, the strand of hair being draped over your face on account of having to lean closer to him. Joaquin moved his hands to grip the base of your neck just as his tongue entered your mouth, you allow him in as both of you passionately duel against eachother as if there was a battle to be won. No, Joaquin had to remind himself the fighting was in the past, all he could feel, all he could touch, all he could smell was you. All there was, was you. And that was a thousand victories on its own.

"Shit- angel... you're tryna kill me." He mumbled so quietly it made you chase at his lips, effectively shutting him up.

"That enough not to make you leave?" You answered, the kiss intensifying a hundred fold. Teeth clashing together, the sound of you and Joaquin gasping for air without having to pull away, laboured breaths in between the sound of poppysmic, and the sheets shuffling.

Suddenly the door knob turns and you and Joaquin pull away instantly, it was almost comical. It was the nurse with a concerned look on her face and a clipboard in her hands. "Is everything alright in here?"

Joaquin clears his throat, glancing back at you who was slouched in the armchair, scratching the side of your mouth. "Uhhh- y-yeah, yeah everything's uhm... fine."

"You two sure?" The nurse reiterates. "His heart rate spiked up all of a sudden, gave us all quite a scare out there."

You finally spoke up. "Sorry, no, we were just... laughing at the birds... outside."

"Uh-huh, you shoulda seen them... one of them was doing the Russian folk dance." Joaquin supplements, his statement falling apart mid-sentence. He makes a subtle face at you in confusion to which you mirror.

The nurse raises a quizzical brow at the pair of you, she takes note of the flushed cheeks and the apparent yet awkward looks you had on your faces that you two failed at hiding. She glances back at the monitor, Joaquin's heartrate wasn't as rampant as before as it began decreasing by the second.

"I'll come back in a while, keep that heart rate of yours in check pretty boy."

"Isn't that kinda your job?"

"Excuse me? "

"That was outta line... that's my bad." Joaquin replies quickly, offering an apologetically cheeky smile as the nurse shuts the door behind her, muttering to herself.

You and Joaquin then look at eachother.

"You know... that's three now." He suddenly says.

"Oh, so we're keeping count? " You bounce back, sitting up.

"Yeah, so we can keep breaking that record..." Joaquin paused. "If you're interested." He suggested coyly causing you to roll your eyes at him again, trying your best not to let him see the red tint blossoming from your cheeks.

You hummed out a laugh. "Try and get outta that hospital bed first, let's see what happens."

[kashverse]

umbrellas are, without a doubt, mankind’s magnum opus. rain? blocked. sun? deflected. want to look like a brooding protagonist in a slow-motion film sequence? pop that thing open and stride dramatically.  a/n: read till the end to see choso's temu collab <3

unfortunately, this universal truth is lost on gojo, who believes his infinity is a catch-all solution to every problem in life, including weather. does it keep the rain off him? sure. does it do the same for you? absolutely not. but does he realize this? of course not. so while he’s smugly holding you close, humming some dumb love song and talking about how "this is just like those k-dramas, huh, babe?" you are actively getting drenched. fast forward two days later—you’re curled up in bed, tissues piling up like a battlefield, and gojo is wailing as if he’s the one on death’s doorstep. “my baby is dying,” he cries to shoko over the phone, who is ignoring him as she eats her lunch. it doesn’t matter that you told him it was just a mild cold. gojo is now hand-feeding you soup with the solemnity of a man who thinks he is on his last day of service. *“i should’ve—sniff—bought an umbrella.” you have half a mind to hit him with the spoon.

geto, on the other hand, is a man of preparation and, for some reason, exclusively stocks clear umbrellas. like, exclusively. open his closet and you will find nothing but a neat, borderline concerning collection of transparent umbrellas, stacked like they’re waiting for a government-distributed evacuation plan. does he use them all? yes. does he need that many? no. when you question him, he simply shrugs and says, “it’s aesthetic.” but the aestheticism fades a little when the two of you are forced to walk under the blazing summer sun, grumbling like old men because the clear plastic is offering exactly zero protection from UV rays. "we’re gonna get so tanned,” you whine. “we’ll be fine,” he reassures, though he looks about one minute away from passing out. why doesn’t he just buy a regular umbrella? you may never know.

toji, meanwhile, gives you the slow blink of a man who has never voluntarily used an umbrella in his life. if you ask him where his umbrella is, he will blink at you like a lizard sunning itself on a rock and say, "what’s an umbrella?" except he’s joking, but also not really. the thing about toji is that he fundamentally does not care about the weather. if it rains, it rains. if it shines, it shines. he has completed jobs in typhoons, sprinted through downpours to reach you in the middle of the night when you were anxious, and once walked through a literal snowstorm to buy a six-pack. weather is an inconvenience only for the weak. that is until his philosophy backfires and he ends up with a sunburn so severe he’s walking around the house hissing like a vampire, or with a cold so bad that every time he blows his nose, he sounds like a goose fighting for its life. and now he’s grumpy about it. "should’ve used an umbrella," you tell him sweetly as you rub aloe on his peeling shoulders. he grumbles something unintelligible and sulks like a big, overgrown toddler.

nanami is the only one among them who has fully mastered the art of umbrella ownership. you don’t even have to ask if he has one; the answer is always yes. he has one for every occasion. he carries a primary umbrella, a backup umbrella in his bag, and if you check his office drawer, there’s probably another one neatly folded away just in case. he whips it out at the farmers' market, during evening strolls, and most impressively, in a street fight. if you’ve ever seen a man turn an umbrella into a lethal weapon, nanami is that man. he can and will beat the shit out of someone with it. “it’s a tool,” he says simply. and honestly, who are you to argue?

choso, however, is firmly in the raincoat camp. umbrellas make his hands hurt, so he skips the struggle entirely and commits to full rain protection like a man on a mission. the problem arises when he starts browsing for new raincoats and sees children wearing character-themed ones. next thing you know, he is holding up two sanrio-themed raincoats from temu, grinning ear to ear. "they glow in the dark when they get wet," he says proudly. they allegedly glow. allegedly. you do a quick google search and find out they might actually contain enough lead to take down a fully grown man. "choso, you are not wearing that." but he already bought it. and now he’s standing in the rain, in a kuromi-themed raincoat that is possibly a biohazard, smiling like he’s the peak of fashion.

sukuna, much like toji, does not give a single damn about rain or shine. it could be pouring or blisteringly hot, and he’d still be doing whatever he wants, unaffected and unbothered. however, if the weather starts personally inconveniencing him—like preventing him from stretching out in his favorite sunspot like some oversized demon cat—he will glare at the sky itself and, somehow, it will fix itself. it doesn’t rain if sukuna doesn’t want it to. the sun won’t shine if he says so. when you ask him how he does it, he just shrugs. "i just do." you don’t push for answers. you’re a little scared to.

[vxnuslogy]

𐙚 my love, mine all mine.

— some headcanons about certain things the hsr men would do while in a relationship.

— warnings: none

— author's notes: self-indulgent, once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners. this is lowkey dedicated to the stellaronhvnters <3

𐙚  AVENTURINE 

would always accompany you on your spontaneous night drives around pier point. before you can even leave your room to drag aventurine to his car, he’s already leaning on your doorframe, his car keys in hand as he flashes you a smile; not the gambler like smile he shows to his enemies but a child-like one filled with uncontained excitement and wonder. 

its half past midnight and your both in your pajamas (he insisted that you both wear matching ones) as he rolls down the roof of his very expensive car to let the wind flow with your hair. your phone connected to the speakers as you blasted your shared playlist. loud enough to satisfy your needs to have a mini carpool karaoke session but quiet enough you won’t disturb any civilians trying to sleep the night away.

aventurine shakes his head in fondness and amusement when you scold him as he skipped a song he didn’t particularly like. the pout on your lips would soon fade as he reached to pull you by the chin and give you a peck on the lips. your nagging turned into panic as you hit him in the arms for not keeping his eyes on the road.

𐙚 VERITAS RATIO

always comes home exhausted. even in his tired and slightly dazed state, he always comes home at exactly 7 pm and each time his arms wouldn’t fail to snake around your waist and his lips press a soft kiss on your neck in greeting.

when you ask about his day, the doctor just grumbles and complains about his students. but you knew deep down he was proud of them after they finally managed to solve this one particular problem he gave them without his help. they’ve been making fast progress, he once stated, making a smile bloom on your face when he checks their papers.

you chuckle under your breath as ratio continues to chatter away about his students' progress. your back flushed into his sturdy chest while arms kept a steady hold of you – tight enough that you could feel his muscles but still be able to move around the kitchen. a melody starts to fall from your lips as you hummed and swayed, and ratio follows with his own humming as you both start a pseudo dance in the middle of making dinner.

𐙚 BOOTHILL

date nights with boothill usually consisted of going bar hopping and hiding away in a dark alley as the IPC passed by. you’ve grown fond of the excitement as your lover drags you out the bar with officers high on your tails. it never fails to rip out an uncharacteristic laugh from you and cherry grin from him.

tonight was a lot tamer than other nights. sitting in a bar counter, a cup of whiskey boothill had asked you to hold while he gets another bounty for the both of you. he knows you wouldn’t take a single sip of his drink, your alcohol tolerance was nonexistent he says making you roll your eyes. your peaceful night was disturbed when a new face popped out from seemingly nowhere, taking the seat your lover once occupied as the man tried to buy you a drink

boothill always had impeccable timing. just as the man was about to take a hold of your – his – glass, a cold arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into a firm chest. you try to look up but a familiar hat was instead placed over your eyes as the glass in your hand was taken. the liquid disappeared in a flash as boothill downs it in one go. just to prove his point, he gingerly lifts his hat over your face and press a kiss at the corner of your lips, making it known to the man that you were with him.

𐙚 SUNDAY

not many would believe you if you told them the stories of how easily flustered the head of the oak family. everyone would picture him as a full package gentleman – opening doors for you, pulling back your seat, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, etc. – but what they don’t know is that, in your relationship, the one being worshiped wasn’t you.

without a doubt, you were the one who always opened the door to his office for him, offering to carry his things even if he protested, even going to one knee to tie the laces of his shoes. sunday was always in competition when it came to being a gentleman and he always loses to you every time. and he doesn’t make any effort to make you stop despite his embarrassment; one drag of your knuckles under his eyes when he’s overworked and tired and he’s putty in your hands.

how could he resist your pampering when you always take off his gloves when it's just you two in his office, pressing a delicate kiss to his knuckles and whispering sweet nothings to him. admiring the writing calluses on his right hand as you talk about your day. 

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Rival VI

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You return to London

"Princesse," Magda groans as you come jumping down the stairs of the hotel with Pernille," What did I tell you last night?"

You very pointedly ignore her as you go skipping over to Sydney, Georgia and Sam. You present yourself in front of them, chest sticking out as you smooth down the familiar red material and the cannon crest on your chest.

"You're kidding," Georgia says, eyes wide as she looks up at Magda and Pernille," You have to be kidding me. You're letting her wear this?"

"I'm not!" Magda says at the same time Pernille rolls her eyes.

"She's old enough now to choose her own clothes," Pernille says plainly," We're fostering independence."

"Yeah!" You say with a little giggle, sticking your tongue out at Georgia happily," I packed it just for today!"

"It shouldn't have been packed at all!" Magda insists," I told you that you weren't allowed to pack it."

"Auntie Frido says-"

"Oh, here we go."

"-That choosing clothes is an exercise of my right to express myself."

There's silence for a moment and all of the adults look at you with varying degrees of shock.

"Do..." Magda's mouth is wide open as she stares, blinking a few times as if she can't understand why you've just said that. "Do you know what you just said?"

You shake your head happily. "Auntie Frido told me to tell you though. She made me remember-ise it."

"Memorise."

"Huh?"

"She made you memorise it."

"Yeah, that too."

Magda sighs deeply, eyes closing briefly before opening again. "When we get home, I'm burning your Arsenal kits."

"Auntie Frido says that's illegal! And I can sue you for it!" You turn to Pernille primly, chest puffing out. "She made me memorise that too."

To save Magda's eyes, you end up wearing a zip up hoodie over your Arsenal jersey on the bus ride over to the pitch.

You happily sit with Pernille, who lets you watch one of your favourite Scooby-Doo episodes on her phone as you hum the theme song under your breath. Your little legs kick around happily as Straus says a bit more about the game plan to the team.

You're not listening at all as you watch Daphne use her super cool martial arts skills to punch one of the monsters in your show.

"Alright, you," Pernille says softly as she takes her phone back," We're here."

"We are?"

Your head pops up as you look out the window, fingers automatically going to unzip your hoodie so you can show your Arsenal pride but Magda's there quickly.

Her hands make sure your zip is done all the way up and you frown.

"But Morsa-"

"No," Magda says firmly, lifting you up into her arms before you complain anymore.

You huff a little but don't fight her.

Magda carries you all the way into the changing room and still doesn't let you take your hoodie off. Even Pernille doesn't relent and you sit stubbornly in her cubby with your arms crossed over your chest.

"What's that pout for?" Tuva asks with a laugh, tickling under your chin," You not going to be our good luck charm?"

You shake your head. "No."

"Oh? Why not?"

"My good luck is going to Arsenal!"

Before anyone can stop you, you stand up and rip off your hoodie to show your Arsenal shirt.

"North London forever!"

"Oh no," Pernille groans as Magda's eye twitches.

"Whatever the weather!"

Georgia bursts into uncontrollable laughter.

"These streets are our- Morsa!"

Magda plucks you from Pernille's cubby, muttering under her breath too quiet for you to hear as the door to the locker room is knocked on.

Katie and Caitlin poke their heads around the door.

"Alright, Eriksson?" Katie asks with a grin," We heard our Big Boss was in the building. Do you mind if we steal her?"

"Actually-"

"Of course you can." Pernille takes you from Magda's arms without fuss, putting you back onto the floor so you can run over to the two Arsenal girls by the door. "Princesse, remember, be nice, helpful and-"

"Don't cause trouble," You finish off," I know!" You take Caitlin's hand. "Let's go see Auntie Stina and Auntie Lina!"

"The warm ups are just starting," Caitlin tells you," Have you got your gloves? Because I'm sure the keepers would love to warm up with their Big Boss."

[ribread03]

Our Song I

m.sturniolo

Summery: When you receive a DM from nick asking you about doing a collaboration with them you cant help but say yes!

THIS IS MY WORK AND MY IDEA! PLEASE DONT USE THIS AS “INSPIRATION” OR TAKE IT WITHOUT GETTING MY PERMISSION FIRST! thank you :)

AN: this is part one of the series “our song” if you would like to know more about “y/n” you can use the mood board! Enjoy :)

Y/N POV

You’re sitting at your desk editing the newest YouTube video you plan to put out. Music is playing in the background as you zone out into your computer. Your phone dings, pulling you out your computer to see who might have messaged you.

Your heart skips a beat when you see “nicolassturniolo sent you a message” in your notification stack. You’ve been a fan of the sturniolo triplet since what felt like forever, and now Nick is messaging you on instagram. You’re in such a state of shock as you open the message, hands trembling as you read what it says;

“Hello, Me, Matt and Chris have come across your YouTube channel and we’re wondering if you want to collab with us sometime in the future….”

Flash Back Two Weeks Ago…

You had just finished editing a YouTube video to post, hitting the post button you close your computer and lay down to take a nap. Expecting the usual few hundred comments and likes when you wake up in a few hours.

Boy were you wrong… A few hours go by and you wake up and see that your video has blown up, thousands of views, thousands of comments, and thousands of new subscribers. Your eyes scan your phone “congratulations on 1 MILLION subscribers” was in your email.

“OH! MY! GOD!” You screamed out, alerting your parents who happened to be downstairs, to hear you. Jumping up and out of bed, starting to exit your room, stepping over piles of books and clothes.

“Y/N? Are you okay!?” You can hear your mother frantically call up to you while walking up the stairs.

“I HIT A MILLION SUBSCRIBERS!” You say excitedly while meeting her in the hallway…

Back to the present…

“Oh. my. god…” you say quietly, fingers hovering over your screen, scared that if you hit anything this will all be a figment of your imagination. Clicking on the notification you hold your breath as your phone unlocks and opens instagram… this is no figment of your imagination. This is real life and the triplets really want to collaborate with you.

You let out a few more silent “omgs” before heading downstairs to talk to your mom about all of this. You exit your room and walk down the stairs, “Momma?” You say softly as you round the corner into the kitchen.

“Yeah sweetie?” Your mom says as she’s washing the dishes. You sit on a small stool on the floor before you talk again, petting your cat, nugget, that was by your feet.

“I got a message from Nick Sturniolo, asking if I wanted to collaborate with them,” you can hear the excitement in your voice as you tell your mom. Your mom also knows that you’ve been a fan, and practically obsessed, with these three boys since high school and have always wanted to meet them one day.

“You did? That’s great honey, what did you say?” She asks turning the sink off and turning to face you.

“I didn’t answer yet.. I'm honestly scared because what if they change their minds?” You explain to your mom with a nervous chuckle. Your cat had now made its way up onto your lap, purring loudly.

“I think you should do whatever you want, just know that a flight out to LA might be expensive.” You took your mom’s words to heart and gave her a small nod.

“I want to go out and meet them, a collaboration would help me so much.. maybe if I get a little more information then I’ll be able to see if I can afford it or not,” you explained back to your mom, pulling your phone out to DM Nick back.

“I would love to collab with you guys one day! That has been an absolute dream of mine forever. I would love to share some more information about when and where if possible.” You hit send with slightly shaky fingers before talking to your mom again, “I just messaged him back, I asked him for some more details on when and where we would collab”

“Okay sweetie,” your mom says softly before returning to whatever she was doing in the kitchen, before you came out there to talk to her. You give your cat a few more pets before standing and going back into your room, waiting for Nick to message you back with more details surrounding this possible future collaboration…

Matts POV

“Did you ask her yet?” Matt was sitting next to Nick looking over at his phone. Matt had seen your YouTube video and thought you were the most beautiful, funny, and relatable person on the internet, and he knew right then and there he needed to meet you.

He had asked Nick and Chris what they thought of some of your YouTube videos, hinting at the idea of a collaboration with you. Saying and pointing out things that would hopefully catch his brother's attention and make them also want to meet you, just maybe not for the same reason.

Matt would find himself scrolling through your instagram when he was bored, careful not to like any of your posts, wanting to keep you out of his fans stalking obsessions before he could even properly meet you. Thumbs carefully scrolling on TikTok as he watches every video you’ve made on there, watching how every video is a little different.

“Yes Matt, I did ask her,” Nick says with a slight eye roll, becoming tired of his brother’s constant asking. Nick's phone dings lightly, alerting that someone messaged him, the someone being you. Nick opens instagram and the messages that the two of you have sent back and forth. Matt's eyes scan the screen quickly, not caring that he might be invading some privacy of his brothers.

Matt's eyes land on the words, “I would love to collab with you guys one day! That has been an absolute dream of mine forever…” and he immediately becomes happier, his smile widening and eyes seem to sparkle and little more.

Nick sends you a quick DM back, asking if regular texting would be easier to send information through and that the collab would be sometime within the next two months. “I can’t believe she said yes!” Matt explains to Nick, his excitement evident in his tone.

“I didn’t think she would say no,” Nick says calmly, typing out his phone number to send to you…

AN: i hope you enjoyed this first part! If you would like to be on the tag list for this series comment on this post! Just asking to be added and i will do so :) feed back and thoughts are always welcome!

All boarders are from @issysh3ll

[sweetbunpura]

Filled with Static Pt. 9

Summary: Yuu was already fed up before coming to Playful Land and now that it's over... She has some very choice words for she has reached her boiling point...

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

What should’ve been a restful day quickly evaporated as the news of Yuu’s departure began to circulate through the school. Now, the student body became aware of what had transpired the day certain students skipped and NRC had begun to morph into a war zone. All eyes were firmly locked on the ones who caused it.

“Jamil, Jamil, please say something.”

Kalim timidly watches from the doorway as Jamil stuffs the laundry into the basket. He picks it up and leaves the laundry room without a word, causing Kalim to follow after him.

“Jamil-”

“What do you want me to say, Kalim?” Jamil pauses and turns on his heel to face the young scion. 

“Anything.” Kalim's eyes are watery. “Please, don't ignore me.”

“Like you ignored me words?” Jamil said coldly and sharply.

Kalim flinched at that. “I-it was an accident...”

“No, it wasn't. You don't continue to ignore someone's words and call it an ‘accident’.”

“I-”

“We're supposed to be equals, you said so yourself. So why do you continue to ignore my words that keep you out of trouble?”

“I thought it would be a fun time!”

“Kalim! I tell you these things to keep you safe!” Jamil growled. “Normally your bullheaded decisions only affect me, but you roped Yuu into this!” He slammed down the basket.

“I'm sorry!”

“I'm not the one you should be apologizing to! The one who really needs it is gone! Congrats, Kalim, you drove someone away with, with, you fucking bullshit!” 

Jamil rarely ever swore and Kalim could see the look in his eyes were borderline furious. 

“Jamil-”

“Stop speaking because all I'm hearing is a refusal to acknowledge your actions.” He glared at him. “Go somewhere else. Now.” Jamil picked the basket back up and continued his way to where he was headed.

Kalim watches him leave with tears in his eyes and a trembling frame. He rubbed the tears as best as he could before he shuffled his way towards his room.

Jamil slammed his door behind him and dropped the basket on the floor with a snarl. He grabbed his headphones and put them on while he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Jamil unlocked it and paused as it opened on the last thing he had up.

Yuu: I sent you a link to a playlist I made. Hopefully it's to your music standards, Hebi. Jamil: You make it sound like I'm not going to like it. Yuu: Jamil, have you heard your taste in music? You need more genres. Jamil: I have plenty. Yuu: Bullshit.  Jamil: What about yours? I could be listening to a jazz song and the next one that plays is loud rock. Yuu: :3c keeps you on your toes! Jamil: And bursts my eardrums in the process. Yuu: Hahaha!  Jamil: I'll listen to it later. Yuu: Promise? Jamil: .... promise.

Jamil took a deep breath and tapped on the link to the playlist. His thumb hovered above the play button before he pressed it. The first song starts with a slow build before a gentle voice starts to sing. Jamil waited a few moments before he started to pull the laundry from the basket.

“Damnit.” He mutters to himself as the next song that starts up is loud rock. “Of course.”

He imagines hearing Yuu laugh at his face upon hearing the sudden change in volume.

“...” Jamil grips his shirt and leans on his bed. “...damnit.” He taps out a single message to her and debates sending it.

Jamil: I know a lot has happened. But... if you ever feel like talking, please contact me... I'm sorry, Yuu... >>Send? .... >>>Sent

[leesolbeesol]

LIGHTWEIGHT

univeristy!au taesan x fem!reader (ft. the rest of bonedo!)

SUMMARY: Meeting Taesan at a basement party doesn't go as planned, what happens when you can't get rid of him? Do you even want to?

GENRE: fluff, slightly suggestive in one chapter, university!au (mentions of fraternities, classes, lectures, dorms, etc.) WARNINGS: Taesan gets punched, he doesn't deserve it but everything is okay | swearing | mentions of moaning but it doesn't get too crazy, reader makes fun of Taesan for it | fem!reader | heavy mentions of alcohol in the first chapter | EXCESSIVE flirting | ends with a confession!! NOTES: I have never been to a frat party. I have never participated in Greek life. I do not drink for personal reasons. I have never dated Han Dongmin (unfortunately). In other words, this is likely very unrealistic because my information comes from speculation, reddit threads, and other fanfics on tumblr dot com. This was so fun to write WC: 16.2k, divided into 6 "chapters" of varying length

RIDE OR DIE

You shift on your twin bed and feel the crinkly sheets shifting under your weight. You glance at the egg-shaped off-white clock on your wobbly, school-provided desk. The clock hits noon, your roommate will be home any minute and you’re hoping to power through the end of this report before then. Since you chose her as your roommate freshman year (because of maybe five instagram messages), Jen’s been your best friend, your literal ride or die, but she’s not the best body-doubling partner for cranking out assignments. When she’s with someone, she needs to provide commentary on whatever's going on, which is both a blessing and a curse. It’s a curse when it comes to being someone’s study partner.

The wooden door opens in an instant, and Jen’s frame appears in the doorway, flanked by about three bags. “Oh, dear roommate!” She greets you in song. She lets the bags fall from her arms with a thunk on the floor, and a couple papers scatter on the floor out of one of many of her partially-zipped backpacks. She marches towards you, waving her phone in your face.  “Look at this! One of our sisters invited us to a party Sigma Chi’s is throwing this evening!” She says excitedly before steadying her gaze on you. You back up as a carefully manicured finger stretches out towards your face. “We need to go.” She always refers to her sorority sisters as your (plural) sisters, which you think is sweet. It’s her way of including you. You figure that, at some point, she decided ‘my sisters this, my sisters that’ got a little bit exclusionary.

“No.” You answer her and turn back to your computer, entering the link for a hopefully-penultimate citation. This is the one thing you’re maybe not so “ride-or-die” about with Jen. You like parties, sure, but you aren't going to give up a good night’s sleep (without midterms, and all) so easily.

“What do you mean? It’s going to be so much fun!” She whines. “We just finished our midterms, we need to celebrate! What could you be even working on anyway?”

“There’s a presentation after midterms for some fucking reason, I don’t know. Plus, it's a totally bad idea to bring me. Nothing good happens at frat parties.” You tell her, pointedly. You do this dance with her semi-frequently: she invites you, you say no, she asks why, you say why, she asks again, you (sometimes) give in. You’ve got this waltz down to a science.

“Can you finish it later? Come on, please? You skipped out on the last three.” She looks at you with pleading eyes, ignoring your advice. You wonder if this was how she got everyone to do her bidding; pouting at them with her big brown eyes. You eye her suspiciously. It was true: you had denied her invitation to the last three events and probably the last three hosted by Sigma… what was it? Sigma Key? Whatever. You don’t particularly like most frat boys. In your experience, they tend to be on the annoying side… the very annoying side. The avoid-at-all-costs side.

You look at her as a smile grows on your face, “Will you do my laundry for a week when we get back from break?” At this point, you were considering going anyway, but you were going to try and milk it.

“And I’ll take out the trash.” She smiles back. Now… maybe hanging out in a dingy basement flanked by drunk college kids doesn’t sound that bad, right?

“Promise?”

She raises her hand as if to be sworn in to lawyerhood—or whatever they call it. “I, your loving, adoring roommate, solemnly swear to do your laundry and take out the trash for two weeks when we get back from break.” You suppress a laugh.

“What time is the party?” Satisfied, you surrender, albeit happily. She does manual labor for a couple weeks and you only have to go with her for a couple hours? Sounds like a dream.

“11pm.”

BUDDING ALCOHOLIC

The faint taste of tequila on your lips is your only reminder of your promise not to get the fuck out of dodge. If you hadn’t pregamed this party, you would have been regretting coming right about now, even if it means two weeks worth of chores being eliminated from your future. The music is noise-complaint worthy and not that good, even as far as frat music tends to go. Your best guess for timing is that it’s about midnight, and a couple of your peers are already drunk by the looks of it, making out by the window and stumbling on the grass out front. It already smells like vomit as you walk through the front door. To be fair, you’ve never been to a frat house in the daytime, so maybe the smell of vomit is just a permanent feature.

“You’re the best! Thanks for coming!” She swings an arm around you, at least a little tipsy. You shift in your Jen-approved outfit: a (very) tight black tank top, light-wash jeans, and a pair of Jen-borrowed, frat-designated, almost-destroyed sneakers. You’ve gathered from your brief excursions into the world of Greek life that this is the frat uniform.

“Hey, Jen-fer!” A guy, clearly a brother, comes up to the two of you with a cheeky smile on his face. It seems like every time someone greets Jen, she has a new nickname. Or maybe he’s just drunk and slurring his words. The guy looks like “people call me Chad but you can call me tonight” personified in his khaki shorts and impressively only slightly wrinkled t-shirt, sporting your school’s mascot with ‘VARSITY BASEBALL’ across it in loud, chunky lettering. “Who’s this?” He inquires as a girl swings her arm around his neck. The smile never leaves his face as he leans down to peck her. You watch as the girl and Jen have some sort of telepathic conversation by exchanging big smiles and little waves — she’s a sister, maybe? You really only know the girls that Jen’s closest to: Madelin (spelled like mandolin), Avery (who you thought was a boy for a couple months because you only know one other Avery, a boy), Elliann (whose name you remember how to spell only because you wrote Ellyanne once and you got a talking-to), and Gene (whose contact you have saved as the jeans emoji).

“Ugh, Jay! She’s my roommate, I told you about her.” You smile weakly as she points her attention towards you, “this is Jay. You remember Jay, right? From Econ?”

“Yeah… from Econ.” You mumble something unconvincing because you very much do not remember Jay from Econ. There are about a million Jay’s at this school. There’s Jason’s and James’s and Jongseong’s and Joshua’s and Julian’s who all go by Jay. Hell, there’s even a Jachariah (pronounced exactly like Zachariah but substitute the Z) who goes by Jay in your English Comp class. You think it would make sense to go by Jack (Like Zack) because there are less Jack’s, somehow, but whatever. When you return from zoning out, Jen starts talking at you. Some people are touchy drunks, some people are sad drunks, but Jen is a very, very talkative drunk. To be honest, she’s a talkative sober too.

She asks you to choose between the two drinks in her outstretched hands, naming both, though you can’t identify the taste or ingredients either, even with the name provided. Both looked like water.

Fuck it, what’s the difference? “Um, that one.” You say, pointing to the red cup in her right hand.

“Great! Are you okay on your own? I’m going to talk to Ellen!” She smiles big. Who’s Ellen? You have no idea. “Oh, hey! Meet my friend —hic! This is Tay!” She waves to someone behind you, and beckons them over with a finger. Great, now you have a Tae to keep track of.  Her goodbye is sonorous, “Bye bye!” 

“Bye, Jen-fer.” You tease her with the drawling nickname, but she doesn’t seem to notice as she waltzes off. You break into a slow smile as you see her leave. If you could remember what feeling sober is like, you would know by the drowsiness alone you’re a little more than tipsy. If Jen is a talkative drunk, you’re a sleepy drunk. You take a big swig of the red cup and it burns as it goes down, making you cough instinctively to get rid of the sensation. After taking a moment to compose, you shotgun the whole cup. Aside from the burning, you’re left with the distinctive aftertaste of artificial sweeteners sticking to your throat. 

You back up a little, and bump right into a wall. You curse, thinking you probably looked stupid doing that… that is, before you nearly jump out of your skin when the wall puts a hand on your shoulder. Sufficiently scared, you jump right back to where you started like a tennis ball. 

In your inebriation, you're pretty sure it might be the worst mistake of your life to look at the wall when you land eyes on the definitely-not-plaster you bumped into. 

You realize that she was saying Tae, not Tay. Tae, though you know him as Taesan, is the name of a—kinda emo—guy in your World Literature class who you decided was cute one time when zoning out in a lecture and have been a little shy around ever since. Why is he here? A frat does not seem like his scene. Your drunk self agrees with your sober self on the former issue, however. He is cute—really cute. His hair is straight and black and his bangs fall just above his eyebrows. You were definitely catastrophizing, because bumping into Taesan is maybe the best thing you could have hoped for at this Greek-whatever party.

“Oh… it’s Taesan!” It doesn’t even cross your mind to suppress the giant grin that spreads across your face as you say his name as you sway. “Can I call you that instead of Tae? Too many ay’s around, I think.” You mumble, feeling as cloudy as ever.

He shrugs, “Sure, I mean, I call you by your full name, usually.” 

Mostly ignoring him, you continue, focusing on the way the edges of his lips curl like he’s suppressing a smile. Squinting at him, you monologue. “You’re cute. But you’re bad at…” You squint harder, circling your finger in front of his face as if to cast a spell. He looks a little confused with his straight eyebrows raised, but he doesn’t look scared—yet. If you were in your right mind, you would have been amazed and totally terrified that you hadn’t scared him off with the wiggly finger. Maybe the slipped compliment at the beginning helped build some rapport? “You’re bad at… analysis.” You decide on pinpointing a weakness of his. Now, his analysis is actually pretty good. Sure, he's not going to win any awards with it, but who is in an undergraduate World Literature class taught by a less-than-enthusiastic professor nearing retirement? The alcoholic fog is just a little much, anyway. Maybe you’re more of a lightweight than you care to admit. 

“I think my analysis is pretty good, actually.” He frowns, but doesn’t seem offended in the slightest. He’s always quiet in lecture, you’re surprised he hasn’t made a quick excuse to get away yet.

You part your lips as you squint harder and point up at his face again, grasping for words that don’t come all that easy to you. “You… should kiss me.” As the words fall out of your mouth, he seems to look around a little bit in surprise. To your luck, he still doesn’t run screaming.

It’s his turn to point a finger at himself and his cool, bad-boy act slips, “kiss—kiss me?” He stutters, going wide-eyed and glancing around like this is a big reality TV-style prank and there are cameramen waiting in the shadows of this sticky, stinky basement, itching to catch him off guard. Perhaps you’re subconsciously practicing rejection therapy. 

“Yeah… you should analyze kissing me.” You attempt a smile as you try to keep your eyes open. The music is pounding in your ears as you stare into the gap between him and the wall to his left.

Still dumbfounded, he tries to find words, now staring at you staring off into space, “well, uh… you… that would be cool, but… I don’t… I don’t think you actually want to kiss me. You smell like tequila.” The alcohol is definitely taking its toll on you, evidenced by the way you lean forward and slump onto the boy in front of you, closing your eyes. His words don’t even go in one ear and out the other, they go over your head entirely. You could feel his body heat even through his thick navy tee. You hear his heartbeat and—you’re no medical student—it’s loud. With your eyes closed, you hear the DJ switch the song to something with less bass and you feel a warm hand come to your shoulder blade, patting it awkwardly. You hear an attempt at words coming from his vocal chords, but you hear nothing identifiable as human language. Just a few um’s and maybe an uh.

“Hey, Tae!” You hear Jen approach behind you, calling out to the boy who you’ve designated as your new mattress. You open your eyes for a second, and you’re kindly greeted with a view of his chest. Slowly analyzing your field of vision (which includes a fuzzy wall and his shirt), you blink once, twice, and then, the third time you close them, they stay closed. As fast as that, you’re gone: disappeared, asleep.

Before you can open your eyes again, you’re assaulted by a pounding headache. You haven’t felt a headache like this since the first time you got drunk with Jen. You’d assumed you’d learned your lesson. This time, it’s not a good thing that you exceeded your own expectations.

You open your eyes and see a rather unwelcome sight of Jen who has her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. It’s certainly not helping your headache. As you come to consciousness, you become aware of the damp, suffocating sweat that clings to your body and the aching that you feel in each and every of your muscles and joints. You can’t even lift a finger.

“Hey. Wake up! Don’t worry, you’re not dying. It’s just a hangover.” She consoles you, but she doesn’t stop pushing you, however. “You drank way too much.” She laughs, drawing out her words and turning her head to the side as her hair falls in front of her face.

You muster your words, “what?” Your voice is grainy and low. You feel like pure, unadulterated hell. The pounding in your head doesn’t stop, it just migrates from one side to the other. Back to left to front to right and back again like a cue ball bouncing around the table.

“You… are… hung… over.” She says like she's trying to teach a baby to say mama. You groan and roll over, freeing yourself from her manicured hands and burying your head in your sheets. As you roll over, you feel the familiar and deeply uncomfortable scratch of the seam of your jeans. You were still wearing the clothes you wore to the party, hooray! “And,” she continues, “you’re going to tell me why Han Taesan is at our door.” Her voice sounds half like she’s scolding you and half like she’s waiting for you to spill. Processing this information, you scrunch your eyes and groan again.

“He’s not.” You deny with a murmur despite the knocking that you hear on the door. The person at the door, reportedly Taesan, knocks one, two, three times.

“He is. He wants to know how you are… tell me what happened between you two!” She urges.

“You’re lying. He is not at the door.” Maybe if you say it enough he’ll go away. Manifesting, you know? You want to know nothing about why he’s here. The party last night was a blur. You remember drinking, seeing a couple familiar faces, bumping into Taesan and then it’s dark and you wake up in your bed with Jen shaking you.

“He is.” She says solemnly. She cocks her head and continues in a more sympathetic tone, “do you want me to tell him to go away?” She asks.

“Yes.” Regardless of whether you want to see him, specifically, you don’t want to see anyone at all. You’re still in your clothes from last night, your whole body hurts, you feel like total crap, and you doubt you showered last night. You do not want to see Han Taesan, and that’s final.

“Yes, ma’am.” She says and jumps off the tall bed. Through half-lidded eyes, you see her crack the door and exchange words with the visitor. You confirm it’s Taesan when his stupid face appears in the crack. Almost involuntarily you close your eyes. As the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind. Even with a foggy mind and a throbbing headache, you know nothing good can come out of talking to him, or even seeing him, when you’re so wildly hungover. You feel like a ghost haunting your body. You hear the door shut, and you open your eyes to see Jen shimmying over to you with her eyebrows raised and a disbelieving smile across her face. You close your eyes again, you do not want to see or hear what she has to offer unless it’s an ibuprofen.

“I can’t believe he came to check up on you! Isn’t that sweet? I have no idea what was happening with you two before I got there, but he was so cute about you. He looked so nervous! It’s not like him at all.” You can practically hear her dancing around in excitement. “Your love life never goes anywhere, this is so exciting!” You grumble in protest at her jab at you. She’s been begging to let her set you up with someone, but the only people she knows are frat bros and sorority girls, neither of which are your type, usually. Is Taesan part of a frat? Doesn’t seem like him.

“Jen… advil… please.” You reach out for her with a weak hand.

“You’re not dying.” She assures you, but dutifully returns to your bedside with two little red pills, a bottle of water, and a bag of goldfish. This is how Jen is, you’ve learned; poking fun at you while still looking out for you. “Come on, take them.” She says, holding out the pills. “You’re lucky it’s a Saturday. For a hangover, you need water, food, and sleep.” She recites. Maybe hangover care is a required class for members of the sorority known for the most functions.

“Thanks…” You mutter, bringing a weak hand to your still pounding forehead. “What happened?” You ask. It might help to know what you’re up against in terms of embarrassment.

“Before I got there? No idea. After I got there? Well, you were passed out,” she laughs, “I had no idea you could fall asleep that fast. He looked crazy confused, having you slung over him and all, you know? Anyway, he was dry sober, he just got there. I had the car, obviously, and so he offered to give you a ride back to the dorm in my car. Now, I went with you, of course. For one, I’m always going to come with you when you’re asleep and being taken care of by some man. Two, there’s no way I’m letting any man drive my car without serious supervision.” Now, this elicits a stifled laugh from you, after which you immediately wince in pain. Laughing isn’t good medicine for hangovers, apparently. “Anyway, he picked you up bridal-style, it was really cute, and brought you to our car, and then drove both of us home. I put you to bed, and he left after.” She states, "I wiped your drool, don’t worry.” She nudges you with an elbow.

“Ugh, Jen. Don’t joke with me right now.”

“No, seriously, you did drool. It’s one of, like, five reasons I’m never going to put you in a room with alcohol ever again.”

“I told you it was a bad idea to bring me.” You lament. You don’t like the idea of drooling in the vicinity of Taesan. And he carried you to the car? Seriously, not a high point for your ego. It’s not even about your germinal maybe-crush on him. “Give me some goldfish.”

“You always say that it’s a bad idea, but okay.” She hands you a handful and you shove it into your mouth. It doesn’t mix well with the morning-breath taste and somehow lingering tinge of alcohol. Your head is pounding and if the headache doesn’t kill you, the embarrassment might.

THE ILLUSION

Dr. Woo claps his hands together as the final undergrad enters the lecture hall. The long tables that act as desks proceed away from the central board in stairs. 

“Yeah. Big project coming up, right?” He says with a hint of fake enthusiasm. “It’s going to be a group project, if two people count as a group. Hooray.” A resounding groan emanates from the student body. Dr. Woo is visually unphased by this. “Despite the fact that choice is an illusion, you can pick your own partners. This is college. I don’t care.” He waves a hand dismissing any rebuttal, not that any was coming. Regardless of any other feelings about Dr. Woo, everyone knows he’s a great (read: easy) grader. “Anyway, go crazy. You all know the topic.”

Your heart drops as the room immediately erupts in chattering. Your circle was small at best, and you knew no one in World Lit except for… oh no. You feel a tap on your shoulder. Almost in slow motion, you turn around and see Taesan’s damned handsome face.

“Hey,” he says, very, very casually, “do you want to be my partner?” Oh, what the fuck.

“Um…” You furrow your eyebrows. It’s not that you don’t want to be partners with him, really. It’s just that you don’t want to recoil in embarrassment every time you work on a project worth 20% of your grade. 

He cocks his head to the side, “so?” You’re pretty sure his face could bring world peace. Have him try to convince a warlord to stop fighting by flashing a smile and they’d be a pacifist in under ten minutes.

You sigh, “yeah. Sure.” You try to smile, it doesn’t work that well. Fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen? Do it for the plot, right? Choosing to partner with him is definitely for the plot. You’re not entirely convinced that he’s pure in his intentions to partner with you; maybe this is part of a bigger frat boy scheme.

“My analysis is actually good, I swear.” He says as he pulls back the chair next to you to sit down. Is that a reference? To what? You are thoroughly confused, clearly remembering very little of that fateful night. He tucks his hands behind his head and leans back.

“What?” You laugh a little, if only out of awkwardness. 

He presses his lips together and they contort as if a laugh is threatening him. “Nevermind. It’s nothing, really.” He is utterly unconvincing when he lies. Maybe he couldn’t convince the warlord.

“Taesan, what?” Your arms cross as you lean back in your chair. Around you, there’s a buzz of new partnerships and dates being set to meet. You two, however, are alone in your own world. In your periphery, Dr. Woo is staring you down. You’re pretty sure he can sense when work isn’t getting done. You can’t tell if he’s just a salty old man or a teenager with a gossip itch trapped in an old professor’s body.

Taesan notices, “Dr. Woo is creeping me out. I’ll tell you in the hall.” He picks up one of your pens and hands it to you in a non subtle suggestion for you to pack up. 

You sling your backpack over one shoulder (despite how you’re told it’s bad for your back) and lead Taesan out of the lecture hall.

“So, are you partners with me just to make fun of me?” You probe him as he catches up to you. “I’m taking you to my dorm, by the way. We can get started on the project.” There’s a silent addition of ‘even if you’re being an asshole, I chose to be stuck with you for some reason’ when you give him a purposeful glance. Maybe Dr. Woo is right. Maybe choice is an illusion. He looks completely lost.

“No, no. It’s not like that, really. I didn't mean to make you feel bad, I just thought it was funny.” He turns around and shakes his head to punctuate his point. 

“Is it better if I don’t know what happened at the party?” One eyebrow raises and you stare him down with some weird level of confidence. Maybe knowing that he’s seen you drooling, drunk, and looking crazy makes you feel like you don’t have much else to lose.

“No, nothing bad happened. You were just drunk. It happens to the best of us.” He shrugs as you enter onto the green.

“Don’t drag this out, let me bite the bullet if I want to.”

He laughs a little, “alright. In summary, you backed into me, told me I was cute, told me my analysis sucks,” so that’s what that was about, “and told me I should kiss you and I told you that you were too drunk,” oh, what the fuck, “and then you fell asleep on me and Jennifer came over. I carried you to the car and drove both you and her home because she had a couple drinks and I had none. I checked up on you because I knew you were going to have one hell of a hangover.” Great, you’re stuck with this fucker you borderline harassed while blackout drunk.

“You were right. It was one hell of a hangover.” You grumble, looking at the floor to avoid any eye contact with him.

“Don’t be embarrassed. You’re not the first person to tell me I’m cute when they’re drunk.” He teases and you roll your eyes. In your heart, though, this is deeply, deeply embarrassing. The thought of what happened stings like a blade in your heart and in your mind. It’s not as bad as the hangover, but it’s pretty damn bad.

“Yeah, right. I was drunk, okay?” Your words are biting. “Why are you partners with me, then? I wasn’t that great the one time you met me.” Maybe you don’t want to know the answer, but the words are already out of your mouth. You scuff your heels as you walk, still avoiding contact with the one and only Han Taesan.

“You’re cute and you’re smart.” He shrugs and you break your rule of avoiding his eyes because now you’re staring at him in disbelief. “Plus, you’re great at keeping me humble.” He meets your eyes now and you’re immediately regretting thinking anything about the previous compliment meant anything at all.

“If you keep being a jerk, I’m going to keep you humble as hell.” You grumble.

“Sorry,” he frowns mildly, “the first part holds more weight.” And now, you’ve flipped. It does mean something… maybe. You face forward again to hide a smile that he totally catches anyways. You’ve made great time alongside Taesan, you’re almost to your dorm.

“Thanks?”

“My pleasure.” He postures. “Why were you there in the first place? No offense, but you don’t strike me as an alcoholic. An alcoholic can handle being drunk better than that.” It’s sort of a compliment, you guess.

“None taken, I don’t believe that being an alcoholic is in the cards for me.” You snort. “Jen dragged me there. I told her it was a bad idea, but she convinced me to go anyway by bribing me with doing my least favorite chores for a week or two.” You explain, crossing your arms and he laughs. “No offense, you don’t seem like you’re part of the frat nor do you seem like an alcoholic. So, what were you doing there?” You redirect. It’s true: he doesn’t seem like a brother nor a drinker.

“I lost a bet. Riwoo bet me that I couldn’t fit fifteen grapes in my mouth and I wanted to prove him wrong because, well, he’s Riwoo, but I lost the bet.” A laugh bubbles up from your chest imagining the situation. Not only did he try, but he tried and failed. “My punishment was either to go to a frat or to do mine and six of my roommates’ laundry for a semester. I picked the frat, obviously. I’ve lived with those guys for long enough to know that all of them stink like hell.” He adds, grimacing. “Plus, ‘doing laundry’ meant changing the sheets and picking up laundry, too.” He looks at you, pointedly.

“You’re lying, no way.” You laugh, partly with him and partly at him.

“You clearly haven’t met my roommates, this way?” His finger points to the building that you’re rooming in with Jen. You pray she’s not there or you’re going to be met with a litany of highly invasive questions.

You nod at his direction, “yeah, there are like seven thousand people here and I can recognize about thirty faces max. That’s like nothing-percent.”

“Good for me, then. I don’t think I’d be the first person you’d be calling cute if they were there with me.” The tone of his voice is light, but in his eyes you see that he fears it’s the truth. Huh, Taesan is just like the rest of us, who’da thunk?

“Where did your cool guy act go?” You tease, leading him up the stairs to your dorm, distinguished by the handmade felt pennants, spelling your’s and Jen’s names. “Drunk me wasn’t lying when she said you were cute, seriously.” You assure him. “Now, I just have to learn if your analysis is as bad as she said it was.” You push open the door with your back, mostly so you don’t have to face him after calling him cute to his face. Last week, you would have run away on the spot; Taesan has you acting like a bad ATM—all out of order.

ENTOURAGE

You hated to admit it, his analysis was great. By spending hours writing and rewriting scripts to memorize for your oral presentation, you watched Taesan connect dots you didn't even know were there and recall obscure details from lectures that happened to be integral to the coherence of your project. You can practically see the cogs turn in his head, the way he bites the inside of his lip when he’s really focused, the way his face lights up when he gets an idea, the way he slides his thin wire glasses up his straight nose with a knuckle when they slip down because he furrowed his eyebrows too much.

This is how you find yourself at four on a Wednesday afternoon, weeks after your first incidental meeting with him: admiring his work on your dorm floor.

“Damn, Taesan.” You still kept to calling him his full name instead of Tae, you felt like it meant something. “This is amazing, I would have never thought to connect those passages, we read that first book ages ago!” You shook your head, his analysis was that good. Maybe not award-winning, but definitely worth an A, even in your harshest grader’s class. He smirks as he laughs a little, taking off his glasses and stretching his hands up, grasping at nothing while trying to stretch his back. You two had been sitting for hours on the hard floor of your dorm room; you told him to sit on your chair, but he refused, demanding he sit next to you so that he can ‘see what you’re writing’ better.

“You brought up At the Bottom of the River in the first place.” He deflects your praise. You’ll gladly take the compliment even if you had no part in his discovery. As you shrug his deflection off, you feel his arm come down around your shoulder and you jump a little, not expecting the touch. Of course, his hand feels nice where it rests, but you’re still not quite used to the way Taesan evidently shows affection. The first time he pulled the classic ‘I’m-just-stretching-actually-I’m-putting-my-arm-around-you’ move, you didn’t expect it in the slightest. You had finished a part you were putting off and he moved to stretch, suddenly putting his arm around you and shaking you while cheering you on about your victory. The laugh you let out when that happened was something entirely unprecedented for you, you laughed until your stomach hurt and your eyes watered, and you couldn’t even pinpoint why.

“Yeah, sure.” You look at him, exaggerating your skepticism with your one raised eyebrow, his arm still around you.

“When’s Jen getting back? Do we have time to mess around or should I go before she starts pestering you?” He asks, half-joking as he tilts his head towards yours. Jen had taken a liking to him, if not too much of a liking to him… for you. Whenever you and Taesan were together and Jen spotted you, she made the least subtle comments possible telling you to get together, wiggling her eyebrows and full of exaggerated winks. It wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Hey, look at the position you two are in right now: foreheads so close they’re almost touching, alone in your dorm, with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. Still, you’ve gathered that’s just kind of how Taesan is with his friends. From what you’ve heard, he’s like that with everyone. It’s not unique to you.

“She said she’d be back at five, so…” you check the egg clock, “like, thirty minutes?” 

“Nice.” He purses his lips. “Are you nervous for the presentation? It’s tomorrow, you know?” Taesan has his sensitive moments, for sure. He sounds—he is—genuinely concerned about how you’re feeling about it, you can hear it in his voice. He’s not great at hiding things like that. Even when he’s making fun of you, it’s never malicious.

“I’m fine. I’m nervous, but it is a big presentation, after all. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” You tell him, flexing an arm to prove your point, though the action is inhibited by his arm still around you.

“Never doubted you for a second, Miss Independent. You can still be nervous though, it’s okay to be nervous.” 

“Are you nervous? You sound like you’re projecting.”

He exhales, “yeah, I’m nervous as hell.” He laughs a little after the admission, but it’s not a humorous one.

“Hey, text me if you get nervous before, right? Doesn’t help to keep it to yourself. And, no offense, but I think I’ll be better at commiserating with you than your roommates, however lovely they are.” 

He exhales. “Yeah, thanks.” He’s being surprisingly soft, and you can’t help but seize the opportunity to connect a little with the sensitive side of Taesan instead of the cool, nonchalant Taesan. From what you’ve gathered, his Nirvana-decorated headphones, monochrome black clothes, and his sullen resting face makes him less approachable to your peers.

“You’ll be fine. As you said to me when we were partnered, you’re cute and you’re smart. You’ve got it.” You tell him, leaning your head onto his shoulder. You wonder if he can feel your heart beating out of your chest. Can you feel someone’s heartbeat through their shoulder? Probably not, but the human body is full of surprises. One surprise is how hard you can see his pulse through his carotid artery, pulsing in his neck. Good God, this boy is going to get high blood pressure if his heart is always going a million miles an hour. “Tell me about writing music. I’m tired.” You tell him, closing your eyes. 

You’re brought back to what you were told about the first time you met him. This time, however, you falling asleep on him isn’t so much of a surprise. Your knowledge of composition contrasts Taesan’s, you know little more than the basics. Asking him to talk about it is an easy route to a one-sided conversation where you get to listen to him talk, which is always a good time. He gets so animated, it’s hilarious and adorable.

“Your wish is my command.” He laughs, and you feel the vibration against your head and he starts on a critically tangential spiel. 

Before you can get too comfortable leaning on Taesan listening to him talk about rhyme schemes, the door swings open. Jen walks in after opening the door with her signature slam. Why you haven’t gotten any complaints yet, you have no idea.

“Oh… my God.” You can practically hear her freeze in the doorway. Out of sight, out of mind, so you keep your eyes closed.

“Jen, no one’s dying.” You assure her, suddenly deeply uncomfortable, shifting on the floor.

“You’re right, no one’s dying. My heart is so happy, look at you!” She almost giggles.

“Is this a good time for me to go?” Taesan starts to ask the pivotal question that’s going to determine exactly how embarrassed you are going to be this afternoon.

“Yes—” “No—” You and Jen say in unison. You open your eyes just to glare at her, seeing her standing over you.

“No… I’m going to get to know my best friend’s… group project partner.” She winks very not-subtly at you. Taesan looks at you just as you look at him, and he shrugs. 

“The more the merrier, right?” He asks. The rhetorical question becomes immediately very literal as Jen continues.

“Oooh… I like the way he thinks, girl.” She says, pointing to you. “Taesan, invite your roommates over, too. We can have a party!” She’s almost clapping with how excited she is, rolling back on her heels.

Taesan lights up, “oh hell yeah! I’ll see who’s available.” Oh, Taesan. Always the extrovert.

You groan, but it’s futile to try and stop the scheming. How did this get so bad so fast? “No drinking.” You instruct them.

“Half of them can’t even drink legally yet, plus, do you seriously think I’m going to drink the night before our presentation? No way.” He assures you, and you groan again in hesitant acceptance.

“I’m never letting you drink again. Don’t worry about that.” She promises you quietly before switching back to hyped-up Jen mode. “Oh, this is so exciting! When can they get here?” She’s sitting cross-legged in front of you two now, rifling through contacts on her phone in its sparkly case.

“Well,” Taesan pauses, “If they’d answer my texts—” ding! Almost like he scripted it, he gets a notification. “And there we go. Turns out they’re just hanging out at our place, all of them are free. Do you want them here now?”

“Hell yeah, I do! We should watch a movie… what movie should we watch? Don’t tell me they like horror…” She pushes her eyebrows together in what sounds half like a threat and half like a plea.

“Yeah, not that I know of.”

“We should watch 10 Things I Hate About You.” You suggest.

And that’s how you got to be sitting in a circle on your room’s floor with Taesan, Jen, and every single one of Taesan’s five roommates. You’d only briefly met a couple of them in passing before. Right now, you’re even managing to not cut each others’ throats out while playing UNO! What an achievement!

“And the color is… wait for it!” Taesan’s roommate with the light brown, almost orange hair and rounder, blueish-green black glasses says, leaning around to intimidate the others with a giant smile on his face. Everyone erupts in laughter at him. You remember that this is Riwoo, the one who dared Taesan to stuff 15 grapes in his mouth in the first place. “Blue!” He announces.

Your last card was red. Damn it.

Jaehyun immediately slumps over, Sungho frowns, Leehan stares at the card deck and Woonhak stares, terrified, at Jen when she jumps up, screaming “Uno!” as she slams her blue five on the pile. Shouts resound from the boys around you. Taesan is laughing. 

As the room erupts around you, Taesan nudges you with his shoulder, showing you his card. His last color was red, too. “We’re both winners in my heart.” He tells you with a wink. What a sap. You push his face away with a hand, stifling a laugh as you feel a heat come to your cheeks. Your light push makes him dip away from you like the inflatable tube men outside gas stations.

“You’re so corny.” You tell him as you take in the scene unfolding around you. Inviting Taesan’s friends over was a great idea. Jen is yelling at Jaehyun, Jaehyun looks terrified. Woonhak and Sungho are yelling at Riwoo, Riwoo is laughing at them. Leehan is laughing at Riwoo laughing at Woonhak and Sungho.

Taesan catches you smiling at the camaraderie, “if people yelling at each other was all it took to make you smile, I’d have invited them over way earlier.”

“Taesan,” you laugh, “I don’t like schadenfreude. It’s nice to see Jen let loose sometimes. I don’t think she gets to argue with anyone very often.”

“If she wants anyone to argue with, I’m available.” He spreads his arms to punctuate his point. At this, you laugh even harder. As you look around again, you see everyone laughing and collapsing on the floor, except for Jen, who’s pretending to fume and sulk on her bed. You know her well enough to catch the smile that pulls at her lips.

“It’s like watching kids at the park.” You motion towards Taesan’s friends, who’ve clearly become very comfortable around you and Jen.

“This weird authenticity is kind of their whole M.O.” He smiles, very clearly adoring their antics. “Imagine having to do their laundry though. I’m glad I chose to go to the party instead.” He pretends to shiver which draws out a laugh from you.

“Yeah, if you had chosen to do their laundry you also wouldn’t have been able to see me drool on you when you carried me to the car.” You snort. You’ve made peace with your drunken night. After all, you’ve already lost your dignity and he’s still hanging around.

“It was so cute though!” He contests and you roll your eyes at him. You have sworn up and down that he doesn’t like you like… that. Even if he did like you, you’re pretty sure no one likes anyone else enough that their drool is cute. Therefore, Jen’s points are null. Simple as that.

“I’m just soooo adorable,” you roll your eyes, “you don’t have to rub it in, dude.” you smile incredulously at him, throwing one of your legs over the other, just short of taking out Riwoo’s leg.

“I’m not joking!” His tone is defensive in ultimate Taesan fashion.

“Yeah, sure.” You tell him as Jen reaches out to you and pulls you to your feet, leaving Taesan alone on the floor.

Jen whispers to you, “so, when’s the wedding?” You roll your eyes.

“Shut up, you always do this.” You groan. “Do you get some sadistic joy from seeing me uncomfortable?” You cross your arms, almost elbowing Woonhak. This room is not big enough for eight people to fit in comfortably.

“Can I be the maid of honor?” She ignores your complaints and you let out an exaggerated groan in response.

“Don’t make me regret not making him go home.”

“Fine, fine.” She looks to be backing down. That is until she smirks, meeting your eyes again. “I’m not the only one who sees something!” She says cheerily before bouncing off as far as one can, which is about a foot. She looks back at you and winks before (lightly) punching Woonhak in the back to get his attention. She’s immediately drawn into some debate of some sort or another. Earlier, Leehan had assigned you both fish and Jen had been assigned a ‘Cherry Barb’ and she immediately took issue with the name for some reason or other. It was very cathartic for Taesan to watch someone contest Leehan’s fish opinions. He was totally dumbstruck; it was hilarious. Then, of course, you got an informational speech from Leehan which quelled Jens’ argument. Now, she’s a Cherry Barb.

Maybe this is how it should be, friends arguing with friends and laughing about it after, cramped in a too small room. When you meet Taesan’s eyes, you see the sparkle in them tell you he thinks so too. Maybe your friends will become the opposite of children of divorce, gaining family instead of it being separated. Is that just children of marriage? Ugh, Jen’s infected you.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Taesan wiggles his eyebrows, clearly having heard the conversation. You roll your eyes.

BREAKING CODE

Jen is passed out on her bed on the opposite side of the room. The egg clock greets you with the time in blaring white: 11:32 pm. Head in your hands, you groan. No amount of free-on-youtube reality TV was going to calm your nerves. None of your favorite episodes are helping, even the one you have open on your computer. 

After the boys had left, you guaranteed yourself that everything would be fine. Your presentation would go great, no questions asked. Now, sitting in your room practically alone, you feel way less optimistic. 

Thoughts of Taesan cross your mind and you furrow your eyebrows, trying to shoo them. You wonder if he’s awake right now, if he’s anxious like you. You try to calm yourself by thinking that it could be worse, the presentation could be 30% of your grade. Unsurprisingly, that doesn’t help. Your phone, thrown aside earlier and laying on the bed, is practically inviting you to make a bad decision with its open, empty screen.

You stare out the window, contemplating whether or not to take the risk and text him. Your window opens up to a view of the door to enter your dorm building, and you can see the freshly fallen snow settling around it. The snow covers the creaky benches and even the overhang above the door. It’s while you're doing this contemplating that, to your fortune or maybe misfortune, the risk decides to take you with a ding from your phone.

On your home screen, you see a contact pop up and you freeze. You read the name again, it still says MOUNTAIN. Taesan put that as his contact name.

You look again, you weren’t hallucinating. It’s Taesan texting you. Is he nervous? Did he seriously take you up on your offer? You were simultaneously hoping that he would text you while hoping that he would never, ever even think to.

You steel yourself and open your phone, that’s when you get your answer.

[MOUNTAIN]: are you up [MOUNTAIN]: i’m nervous are you

You did tell him to text you if he was nervous. That offer, however, happened when you were feeling a little bolder. You are not feeling especially bold right now.

[you]: i might be [MOUNTAIN]: meet me lets go to the convenience store [MOUNTAIN]: chills me out before midterms usually and this is like the same thing

You didn’t need to even try to make a bad decision, the bad decision came to you, enticing you with the lure of a convenience store and a chance to escape your stuffy dorm.

Resting your phone on your chest, staring at the ceiling like a corpse with the way your hands are positioned, you weigh your options. Mentally, you make a list.

PROs:

You see Taesan

You get a snack probably

CONs:

You see Taesan

It’s been established that crazy shit goes down when you see Taesan past like nine pm—it’s like your friendship is a vampire but night-intolerant instead of day-intolerant

The last time you made a for the plot decision it didn’t turn out that bad. Yeah, partnering with Taesan could have sucked, but it didn’t. Going to the party was a kind of yolo-esque decision, too, and that was kind of a blessing in disguise. You rationalize your preference for meeting him with the fact that you know him better now. He’s not a rando and, as far as you know, he’s not evil.

You only live once, right?

You pick your phone back up and text him before you can rethink it.

[you]: meet where? [MOUNTAIN]: outside your dorm building in 10

You squint at the screen. His place is like a twenty minute walk away and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have a car, that would be weird for him. You can’t pinpoint why, but you don’t like the idea of him owning a car, despite the fact that he’s driven Jen’s with you in it. Ugh.

[you]: okay

You are totally chill about this.

Looking over at Jen in her bed, you decide you don’t want to be interrogated about this decision yet. She will not let you hear the end of it, and that’s not going to calm your nerves. It’s kind of against customary law safety recommendations to not tell your roommate where you’re going at night, but you decide that’s not applicable here.

Taking your computer off your lap and swinging your feet over the side of your bed as quietly as possible, you assess the situation. The nice thing about totally embarrassing yourself the first time you met him is that you now don’t particularly care about how you look. You’re wearing Jen’s mother’s giant Hartford Whalers hockey team brand shirt and some irritatingly red plaid pajama pants that totally crash with the cool blues and greens of your shirt.

Tiptoeing to the square, wooden-framed mirror hung in the entrance you check how your hair looks. You pull on your oversized puffer jacket as quietly as possible from the command hook-provided coat hanger adorning off the back of the exit door. The zipper is cold in your hands as you check to make sure Jen is oblivious to your impending excursion. She is still fast asleep, evident from the way her chest slowly rises and falls and the faint snores that you hear from her. 

The door handle is freezing to the touch. You expected as much from a dorm building with as little central heating as it tends to cater, but it’s still unpleasant. The door opens with a loud creak. You stand assured that no one has successfully snuck out of any single one of these dorms because the floorboards creak and the doors practically announce over the loudspeaker when anyone opens them.

Thankfully, Jen is none the wiser as you glance back at her, she’s in the same sleeping position you last saw her in: lying on her stomach with one leg thrown up closer to her chest and an arm flung over her head. It’s completely bizarre and totally adorable of her.

You make your way through the straightforward yet somehow labyrinthine halls of your dorm building. As you approach the glass entryway, you see Taesan illuminated by the orange streetlight, leaning against the red brick of the adjacent building standing on a recently-hardened layer of snowfall. He’s layered an unzipped black puffer jacket, similar to yours, over a gray hoodie and accessorised with a hat that makes his head look round like an egg. He’s rubbing his gloved hands together to keep them warm. He sees you before you even open the door, and his face lights up when he does.

After suppressing a smile, you scold him, “I can’t believe you called me to meet you at this hour!” 

“You told me I could!” He defends. You notice how you can see his breath against the cold air. It’s colder than you thought, you push your bare hands further into your pockets.

“How did you even get here so fast? Do you secretly live in the next building, or something? Are you my tropey boy next door?” You nudge him, wiggling your eyebrows as if this was some plot straight out of a fanfiction.

“Yeah, right.”

“Come on, you’re not secretly pining for me?” You tease him, sinking deeper into the collar of your coat on account of the biting wind that hits you once you leave the sanctuary of the protected building and, though you’re not willing to admit it to yourself, because the boy next to you makes your cheeks hot.

“Yeah, I’m secretly hanging off of your every word, just waiting for the moment I can confess my undying love for you.” He rolls his eyes. Noticing your hands shoved in your pockets, he changes the subject, “are you cold? I brought some extra gloves, do you want them?” His words are surprisingly considerate considering the incessant teasing you subject him to daily.

“Yeah.” You laugh, freezing as he takes the knit black gloves out of his pocket. Taking them from him and putting them on, you adjust them carefully. They’re far too big for you, but it’s the thought that counts, right? The “thought that counts” is definitely keeping your hands warmer. As you examine your new apparel with a smile, you feel a pressure over your head. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed him taking his hat off and now he is pushing it onto your head. You jump back, “hey! You could have lice!” Your smile disappears in favor of a pout. The hat does feel nice on your ears though.

Taesan bursts out laughing, “I do not have lice, I promise.” Still laughing, he elaborates, “plus, you’re cold. Your ears were so cold they were getting red.” You glare at him as he only laughs harder. Instinctively, you throw up your hands to cover your ears

“Point me to the convenience store or I’m going back inside whether you’re nervous or not.” You grumble.

“Okay, Miss Grump. Just follow me.” He says with a stupidly charming smile and grabs your wrist before picking up the pace. To him, picking up the pace means speed-walking, but for you, it means jogging.

“Ack!” You jump at the sudden movement, “Taesan! You can’t do that!” You try to free your wrist and, when you succeed, you cross your arms, standing solid in place as he turns around.

“If you don’t come with me, I’ll yell that you think Heath Ledger is super sexy during the presentation!” He yells, running backwards. Your jaw drops open. You want to trust Taesan enough to think he wouldn’t do that, but you also know Taesan well enough that he totally would do that. It was a bad idea to watch 10 Things I Hate About You with him, Jen, and his roommates after the Uno game. You do not need your personal preferences aired out to an auditorium of your peers and Dr. Woo. Plus, the only thing you like about Heath Ledger is that he essentially serenaded Kat Stratford!

Damn it. Stuck between would and would not, you narrow your eyes and start sprinting after him before he can turn a corner.

“You’re so on, Mr. Mountain!” He turns to look behind him, seeing you gaining fast on him as you run as fast as your legs will take you towards him. It’s his turn to be surprised, and he speeds up. After all, he wasn’t going that fast in the first place. As you close the gap between the two of you, you can hear his infectious laughter that makes you press down a swelling in your chest. You do not like Taesan, you assure yourself. It’s all in good fun. It’s only good fun. Focusing on the challenge ahead, you see Taesan just ahead of you, about to turn down a sidewalk.

He’s right behind a snowbank. If you’re the sun and the snowbank is the earth, he’s the moon in a solar eclipse.

It’s impulsive, your next action, truly. Presented with the right circumstances, however, you like to take your chances. With a shout that’s more primeval than you intended it to be, you grab onto his puffer jacket and tackle him onto the earth that is the snowbank.

It’s almost like slow-motion when you, with an evil smile, keep your eyes focused on Taesan as you see the world around you slowly become more horizontal as you fall, yourself falling on his back as he falls flat on his chest.

When his front compresses the snow enough to stop his descent towards the obscured grass, you hear him let out a moan. A moment of silence passes as both of you process what just happened. You’re propped up on your hands (gloved, thanks to Taesan) and he’s lying on his back, hands thrown above him because of his attempt at stabilization during the fall. His lips are slightly parted in shock, and his eyes are wide open, staring at you. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. He totally moaned when he fell. At least you can play teasing offense on him instead of having to defend why you tackled this man that is in no way, shape, or form your boyfriend. To be fair, men whimpering is hot. It’s just that you didn’t expect the man whimpering to be Taesan. It doesn’t really fit with his image.

You hold yourself up with one hand, clutching your stomach as you double over in laughter. “Oh my gosh, this is hilarious! I’m going to tell Riwoo that you moan when you get pushed around by women. He’ll never let you hear the end of it!” Taesan looks completely scandalized. His mouth is open and he looks totally terrified, you almost feel bad for him. 

Almost.

He covers his eyes with his gloves, “don’t you dare say anything.” Tears form in your eyes as you attempt to suppress a laugh to try and spare any more of his dignity. That doesn’t extend to teasing, though. It’s simply too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“What if, during the presentation, I yell out that you moan when someone pins you down?” You theorize him, sitting down on the dry ground next to him, throwing your legs over his stomach.

Still holding his hands over his eyes, he mutters a defensive response, “it’s not like that!” Flat on his back, he looks, somehow, handsome with snow visible in and contrasting against his darker hair, and his gloves covering his reddening face in embarrassment. If you’re lucky, maybe this is how he felt watching you fall onto him when you were drunk the first time you met. It’s more adoration than disgust.

“Aw, there’s no shame in it.” You coax. He is completely and totally embarrassed, you can tell by the way his ears are bright, cherry red.

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? What do you want?” He whines, refusing to look at you even when you try to pry his hands away from his face.

“Whatever we do and wherever we go together, it’s on you. Monetarily, I mean.” You push a finger into his chest as he finally frees his eyes from his own grip, daring to look at you face on.

“You serious?” He groans, he’s still red but looks to be over the initial shock. Either from the biting wind swirling around you or because of your teasing, his cheeks are coated in a dusting of red.

“Yeah, unless you want everyone to know about your sexual preferences.” Releasing him from your pushed finger, you cross your arms and shrug innocently.

“This is blackmail. This is extortion!” He complains, covering his eyes again.

“So… yes or no?” You grab his wrists and rip them from his face, revealing his angsty stare.

“...Yes, I’ll pay. Will you let it go now?” His words are harsher and he’s sulking, glaring at you. Maybe you pushed it too far.

“Hey, I meant it when I said it’s nothing to be ashamed about.” You let go of his wrists, opting to rub his shoulder instead, in an attempt to reassure him. “Listen, I lost my dignity by falling on you and drooling when we met, and you lost your dignity just now. Let’s just say we’re even.” You smile optimistically, hoping it will psych him into believing you because what you say is the truth, even if it’s a touchy subject, apparently.

Once he’s reminded of your not-so-cute meet-cute, he seems to relax a little. “You did drool like crazy. Do I really have to pay?” He’s smiling now, thank God. He rests his hands on his chest, looking way more comfortable.

“Yup. You do.” You laugh, it’s a softer laugh than your earlier fit, though. “Convenience store?” You prompt him, offering a hand to have him get up. As your hand interlocks with his, a smile tugs at the sides of your lips and you still can’t tell if the heat in your face is from the wind chill or Taesan. “And, take your hat back, idiot. Your ears are red.” The hat traps all the heat radiating from your flushed face and it makes you almost feel sweaty.

He laughs a little before speaking, “thanks for the hat. My ears are just so cold.” He jokes. “The store is just this way.” He points to the right he was going to take when you knocked him down. He was leading you the right way, at least. “Never try to blackmail me again, I swear.” He threatens, pouting, and then shoves you, however lightly. He doesn't look very scary.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.” You retort. He glares at you, keeping eye contact as you walk closer to the glowing, welcoming arms of the convenience store in the form of its bright lights, illuminating the street from the inside, casting an eerie glow onto the otherwise dark and snow-ridden street. In response to his look, you childishly blow a strawberry at him. This hasn’t been either of your finest hours. Your antics draw out a smile from him, at least. Practically skipping along, you try to change the subject to something less personal, maybe. “What did you expect when you called me out here? You said you were nervous, after all.”

“Yeah, I did say that. I got the pre-presentation nerves, you know? ‘Thought we could talk about it.” He rubs his neck. This is definitely a less personal topic, but that’s not to say it’s impersonal.

“So, talk.” You command, avoiding eye contact mostly so you don’t laugh, replaying him falling over.

“What is there to say? I had some nerves.” He laughs, opening the silvery door to the convenience store, stepping aside to let you through.

“What a gentleman,” you muse, “how’d you learn that? Rom-coms?”

“I’m allowed to be nice, too, you know. You watch more romantic comedies than me.” He rolls his eyes.

“I do it ironically.” You drawl. “I was nervous too, to be honest,” you were not going to tell him that you were watching rom-coms trying to relax, that would be a little too much ammo for him, “Jen was fast asleep and I was just kind of… lying there.” You pick up a miscellaneous chip bag, lazily inspecting it.

“Oh, I totally get it. The only other person awake was Leehan, and he was going to trap me in fish conversation if I even so much as approached him.” You snort at this. Even from your brief interactions with Leehan this afternoon, his passion is palpable. You can just see it in his face that he’s a little bit of an uber-nerd about those particular animals. Nerd is being used affectionately, of course. His interest is admirable. “Do you want those chips?” He asks, pointing to the bag in your hand.

“Not really, I like those other ones better.” You shrug, pointing to the alternative, an equally fluorescent bag of slightly better-tasting chips. “We can tame the worries together,” you smile at him, reaching behind you to grab your preferred flavor, “the question is how.”

“Going to the convenience store is a pretty good start.” He pushes his bottom lip into the top one. As you watch this action, he suppresses a smile, suddenly. “I have an idea.” Of course he does. He says this with a growing smile on his face as he locks eyes with you. “We should have a snowball fight.” Your own smile grows as he waits for your response.

“We should.” You nod. This time, you have an idea, a bad one. “Only if you moan again.” You charge him with the scandalous comment, and he looks affronted again, and immediately reaches out a free hand to shove you.

“Don’t say that so loud!” He hissed, looking around the almost empty store to see if anyone heard him. “That stays between you and me.” You roll your eyes but you can’t hide your amusement.

“Yeah, okay.” You walk off towards the cashier across the store to buy your snacks, sticking out your tongue at him. On the way, you inspect and in turn pick up a chocolate bar and a mediocre-looking apple to buy with your chips; it’s all about balance.

Taesan comes up behind you as you place your haul on the mini conveyor belt and gives a small bow to the cashier. He sets down two bags of chips and an enoki mushroom snack that has Japanese writing on it, for which you give him a disgusted look. Perusing his other selections, you smile when you see the second chip bag, for which you change your disgusted look for one of gratitude.

“Aw, did you get those for me?” You ask, pointing to the less perfect, but still pretty good flavor.

“No, I got them for… um…” He pauses, seemingly unable to think of someone else he would get them for. It’s kind of cute, if not a little embarrassing. “I got them for you. I can be kind, remember?” Sassy man apocalypse.

“Duly noted.” You purse your lips. You look at him expectantly, going from him to his card on the back of his phone, again.

“What?” He asks, innocently. Sungho wasn’t joking when he said that he looks like a cat. As he realizes you’re deadass, he narrows his eyes and turns to you, “are you serious about the whole paying thing?” He cocks his head.

“I was pretty clear. That is, unless you—” You’re cut off by Taesan clamping a hand over your mouth, for which he gets a repulsed and highly suspicious glare from the middle-aged cashier, he meets this with another bow, unclasping your face from his grip. When you’re let go, you raise your eyebrows at him as if to say ‘really?’ His hand smells like lavender soap, it’s kind of pleasant, actually. From the state of his and his roommates’ everything-but-sleeping room, you wouldn’t have guessed they were in possession of floral hand soap. When you’re done thinking about how he smells, you’re feeling a little embarrassed and also physically being led out of the store, hopefully after Taesan paid.

“Was that really necessary?” You ask, hands free because Taesan’s holding the store-provided bag that houses all of your treats.

“I don’t need anyone hearing about… that. Especially a middle-aged anyone.” He clarifies and fair enough. You take the opportunity, however, to scoop up a clump of snow (distinctly not yellow, you checked) and pitch it at him. Still carefully holding your bag, he looks at you with a sense of betrayal. “Oh, I’m going to get you.” He threatens before hurling a snowball that splashes against your only water-resistant coat.

Snowball after snowball is thrown, before your brief yet intense brawl is cut short by ice cold rain slicing through the air around you. Without Taesan’s hat, the sleet pummels your head and it hurts. Your puffer has no hood. Before you can let out an ‘ow,’ even, you find your oasis above you, a puffer. Taesan’s puffer. He managed to, in the short time it started sleeting and you noticed it, drop all of his stockpiled snowballs, pick up the convenience store’s bag, take off his puffer jacket, and cover your head with it, protecting you from the harsh, half-frozen rain. When you look at his face to your right, he looks totally angelic. The streetlight behind him makes him look like he has a halo from the light filtering through the edges of his hair. He’s smiling, despite all the teasing and irritation you put him through in the short time you’ve been out of your dorm.

“Yikes, that came fast.” He comments, looking around and noticing how the sleet pelts down around the two of you. “I’ll take you home, I think it’s our cue to wrap this up.” He suggests. His sweetness contrasts against the wistful feeling that unexpectedly forms when he mentions parting. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or maybe it’s the chill getting to you, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine, it’s the most you’ve laughed since Jen told you the crazy goings-on between her highschool ex-girlfriend and one of her friends. Apparently, her ex-girlfriend is absolutely smitten for her friend and said friend completely ignores her at every turn. You laughed until your cheeks hurt that day. Your cheeks don’t hurt from laughing, necessarily, but it’s the same sort of freeing feeling. You don’t know what to make of that, but you’re damn sure you like the way he’s smiling at you.

“Whatever you say. Thanks for the roof.” You beamed, pointing up at the make-shift shelter he’s made for you.

“My pleasure, Miss Grump.” He says this with a posh accent that makes you laugh. You have no idea since when he’s started calling you Miss Grump, but there are worse names, probably.

“Don’t make me kick you.” You threaten, trying (and failing) to suppress the grin that tugs at your lips.

“Sorry, Madame Grump.” He corrects, still holding the cover over your head.

 “I’m not even being grumpy.” You warn him, not even trying to hide the smile that spreads across your face. “Come on, get moving.” You cue him to start the walk back to your dorm.

“Your wish is my command, Miss—” 

“Don’t you dare.” You threaten and bump your shoulder into his. The walk back to your dorm is short, it took you far longer to get to the convenience store because of… well… tangential events. Checking your phone, you finally learn the time. It’s fucking two in the morning. Great! You’ll get essentially no sleep, but that’s nothing a little caffeine can’t fix.

“I dare more than you think I do.” He purses his lips.

“Okay, I dare you to admit you moaned when you fell.” You challenge him with a smirk.

He groans, “I pick truth.”

“This isn’t truth or dare, you don’t get to pick. Plus, truth would be ‘did you moan when you fell.’” You can see your dorm from where you stand in front of the red brick building, it’s still brightly lit. Hopefully that means that Jen is still asleep and hasn’t woken up to turn the overhead off.

“You can’t subpoena me so I’m not playing this game.” He shrugs, stopping underneath the overhang above the glass door that marks the entrance to your building and the separation from Taesan. As he steps aside, taking his puffer with him and putting it back on, you’re suddenly and unfortunately aware of his body heat now that it’s gone.

“I’m less nervous.” He says with a smile that seems almost confidential, like a secret only you know. He’s undeniably easy on the eyes with his stupid hat and soaked gloves and hoodie. 

“Me too.” The words come out of your mouth softly. Somehow, they’re vulnerable words to say. “Goodnight, Taesan.” After your parting words, neither of you make a move to leave. His full name feels more meaningful than his nickname, somehow. You stand there, lit up by the LEDs of the hallways, staring at each other, and you’re not entirely sure why. The tension might be thick, it might not be, you can’t tell by the way you’re focused on his face. Well, it’s not exactly his face. It’s the way his hair frames his face, yes, and the way that his eyes scrunch when he smiles, even slightly, it’s also the way his egg hat looks and the way his hoodie is so damp because he was trying to keep you warm and dry. 

Then it’s all over. When the tension breaks, it’s not like it’s cut through. It’s more like it dissipates. It dissipates thanks to the man who barrels down the street adjacent to your bubble, blasting a Spanish ballad and singing his heart out. Soy capitán, soy capitán, soy capitán! blasts through the complex. You break eye contact with Taesan just to laugh at the oddity passing you. You watch him coast down the street on his green bike, singing, without a helmet, hands-free. Your mother would not approve. Taesan’s not laughing, but he’s beaming and staring at you as you crouch down because of your laughter. You try and convince yourself it’s not even that funny, but something about the era of the night just makes you heave with how hard you’re laughing.

“I mean,” recovering, you let out a sigh, finally releasing a breath that you don’t remember holding, “it is a college campus.”

“You can say that again.” His hands are on his hips, and he’s managed to pry his eyes away from you. The sleet’s stopped somewhat, but the ground is still icy from the snow and sleet and rain that have frozen and refrozen over the past few days. The same wistful silence settles between you two after the interruption.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” You laugh in disbelief. Now you’re sure you’ve laughed more than when Jen told you about her friend’s drama. Way more.

“A sign for what?” He questions, jocose and almost suspicious of your deduction.

“A sign you’ve violated like a million rules of common decency!” Another voice, one other than the singing man’s melody and Taesan’s and your chatter, is heard echoing throughout. “Han Taesan, I’m going to beat your ass!” The voice threatens angrily. At first, you don’t know where it’s coming from. At second, you don’t want to believe where it’s coming from. You slowly look up to your open dorm window and see Jen’s disheveled figure poking out with the single most serious scowl you’ve ever seen her wear. The only time that gets close to this nouveau expression is the time she decked a guy for… being a total freak for one of her friends, let’s say. Your body is confused on whether to panic, run, or just freeze. Waiting to act is still an action, and it’s the prognosis your body suggests. You freeze, looking from Taesan to the window, where Jen is notably absent.

You look at Taesan. 

You look at the window. 

You look at Taesan. 

You look at the hallway.

Taesan looks terrified, you look utterly and visibly confused, and for Jen… well, it looks like there's smoke coming out of her ears as she storms down the hallway towards the doors that open to reveal your two-person symposium. Jen slams open the door and, if it wasn’t specifically made not to slam, the impact of the slam would have reverberated until even Dr. Woo heard it across the campus in his (probably sound-proofed) office where he probably still is because, you know, he’s Dr. Woo.

“You motherfucker, what did you do to get her to go out without telling me! What are you hiding? Are you a criminal? Are you a smoker? Oh no, you’re just a piece of shit trying to get in her pants!” Jen steps in front of you, blocking everything but Taesan’s head from your view. From what you can see, Taesan hasn’t been sucker punched yet. His eyes are wide and he’s holding his hands up like he’s waiting for her to swing, and maybe he is. You know he doesn’t know her well enough to know that she wants to beat the shit out of him, but she did say explicitly that she was going to beat the shit out of him so he had some reason to suspect that that’s what was incoming.

“W-what? I don’t— I didn’t do any of that stuff!” He’s shaking his hands wildly and Jen still looks like she’s about to swing by the way she’s pushing a finger into his chest. Still too shocked to do, well, anything except watch.

You see her rear up in a way that’s all too familiar to you, and when you remember you can move, “Jen, wait! It’s–” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you see her closed fist collide with his cheekbone and the impact make him reel back, clutching the affected area with a mittened hand. He almost knocks his head into the pole supporting the overhang, and you can see he’s visibly out of it. Is this a good time to mention that Jen is freakishly good at karate? What Jen is, however, not amazing at is analyzing the situation. As she battles with the follow-through of the swing, she loses her footing on the icy ground, falling flat on her ass. Now, both parties accompanying you are on the icy ground and you’re the only one still standing.

You act in a delay. “Jen! He didn’t do anything, I swear!” You reach for her shoulders that are no longer there, trying to stop an action that’s already happened. You watch as Taesan crumples further into a fetal position and you stand there in shock.

“See!” She spits, snapping her head back to look up at you. “He’s not even trying to help me up!” Her eyebrows are furrowed and angry.

“Jen,” you almost can’t help but laugh, “you decked him, he doesn’t even know what planet he’s on.” You look from your best friend to your… Taesan, and wonder how you attend to both of their bullshit situations at once. “Okay, first of all, Jen, please don’t punch his ass again—”

“Yeah, I’ll punch him in the gut.” She snarls, cutting you off.

“No! There will be no punching.” You declare, trying to sound confident but you’re so bewildered it comes out more as a question. You turn your attention to Taesan, whose nose is bleeding ever so slightly. He’s holding his hat-clad head in his hands and is grimacing in pain. You mirror him, a grimace appearing on your own face as you look upon his pitiful condition. This is going to be so fun to explain. “I came out here because I told him he could call me if he was nervous for the presentation tomorrow and I’d talk to him about it and so we went to the convenience store and… I’m fine! He’s not just trying to get in my pants, he would’ve done that already if he wanted to.” You ramble, using logic that probably wouldn’t withstand in court but works well enough when you talk a million miles an hour to a less than law-savvy subject, that subject being Jen. The subject, Jen, looks scandalized by this information.

“Where did my innocent baby go?” She pouts, getting up to put her arms around you. “Where did my sweet, lightweight, baby with no love life go? She’s sneaking out to see boys?” 

“Jen, I’m a grown woman.” You tell her, incredibly blasé and stiff as she embraces you in a hug. From over her shoulder, you catch Taesan’s eye. When your eyes meet, he laughs and then winces. It probably wasn’t a good idea to welcome an uncontrollable movement when you have some sort of abrasion on your cheek and blood coming out of your nose. Jen pulls back to look at you and shakes her head, you can almost hear her saying they grow up so fast. Maybe this is the same kind of telepathy that goes down between her and her sisters. Maybe you get it. Jen, coming back to earth from her sappy, self-appointed caretaker meltdown, narrows her eyes and looks from you to Taesan, and then from you to Taesan, again.

She opens her mouth and lets out a puff of air as if to start speaking, but she only does so a few seconds later. “So… there was no reason for me to deck him?” She asks, raising an eyebrow in genuine confusion. You nod, solemnly. Her jaw drops and her eyebrows push together. She puts her tongue in her cheek, mind reeling. This is when she realizes she gave this poor man a bloody nose and probably a black eye for no damn reason. Suddenly, she fixes her gaze on you, “you’re the one I should be chewing out! Do you know how many staples of girl code you’ve violated?! You could have died!” She exclaims, clearly ready to give you a talking-to, way worse than when you spelled ‘Elliann’ as ‘Ellyanne.’ She’s like OSHA but for general female wellbeing.

You reach out to grab her hands that are moving dramatically to illustrate her point, “okay, you can chew me out after Taesan isn’t bleeding out.” She seems to relax like a combative patient injected with midazolam.

“I’m not bleeding out.” He huffs, but is still holding his nose bridge, so he’s still bleeding, at least, and that’s not exactly ideal. 

“You look like shit, though.” You tell him

“Thanks,” he groans, “can I get some tylenol, or something?” Yeah, he totally looks like a hurt puppy. It’s kind of cute, you guess.

“Yeah, we’ll get you patched up.” You assure him, breaking away from Jen to attend to Taesan.

“No ‘we.’ Only you. Don’t let her punch me again.” 

“We’re over the combat phase, it’s fine. Get up, do your legs still work?” You try to say your biting words as comfortingly as possible. It’s past two in the morning, you’re too over-tired to try to pick your words so they’ll feel better for the receiver. What’ll make Taesan feel better, physically, at least, is tylenol and making sure his nose isn’t broken.

“My legs don’t, my ass hurts like hell.” Jen complains, but helps in picking Taesan up anyway.

“It’s very hard to break a tailbone, a nose, on the other hand…” You raise your eyebrows but say no more. Taesan gets up just fine, but still clutches his nose. “Campus clinic’s probably closed, we have a first-aid kit, though.”

Jen issues a half-hearted-sounding yet fully meant apology in the form of a mutter of “sorry for punching you, man.” 

“You’re cool, man. Cool that you were looking out for her.” He gives her a small thumbs up. It’s a weird moment of friendship between these two. For having met barely a week ago and having spent five hours together tops, these two have a more tumultuous relationship than most twin siblings at the age of nine, which is saying something considering most have chased each other with a knife by the age of five and a half. Jen has gone from asking to be the maid of honor to decking the presumed groom and now having a hopefully more stable relationship with said groom. So much plot it’s not even ‘for the plot’ anymore, you’re just riding the wave of unexpected inciting events.

“The more the merrier.” You mutter as you sling Taesan’s arm over your shoulder. Why he abets this when the damage is to his face, who knows. The more the merrier indeed in your cramped dorm, trying to ignore how the cold compress on his bruise keeps melting even though it’s so cold and the fact that you have an injured and sleep-deprived boy on your hands.

GOT GOOD

You bite the inside of your cheek, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to express your dismay. You kind of bombed your presentation. 

Scrap that, you really bombed your presentation. 

As you step out of the lecture hall following the sea of your peers, you step aside to press your back into a free wall. It’s one of the moments where you need to just detach. Crossing your arms for stability, you melt into the wall. The overhead light that you can see even through your closed eyelids is obscured every so often by a moving body. This drowsiness is familiar.

Amid the frequent passings of students, the light is masked for longer than would be caused by someone in passing. You know who it is.

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad.” You open your eyes to a squint and see Taesan leaning against the wall next to you. Despite how you try to ignore it, you’re immediately drawn to the squashed berry purple color that blossoms on the inflamed skin under his left eye, giving way to a lighter almost green tint near his nose. Jen got him good. Your blinks are slow, the scant hours of sleep are getting to you. You slept through your alarm, foreboding you from even getting coffee before the presentation. Despite his injury, he’s smiling.

“I lost where I was like every other sentence.” You attempt to mirror his smile, but it doesn’t really work, leaving you with a smile that reaches your eyes but not your lips, somehow.

“It’s Dr. Woo, you’ll be fine. He doesn’t care nearly as much as you do. We got all of our information out. It doesn’t matter how graceful it was.” He lays out his reasons and you cock your head, weighing the possibility that he’s right.

“Are you like a vampire, or something? You don’t need sleep?”

“I’m used to it.” He shrugs. Maybe living with five as many people as you do makes you sleep way less; especially since it seems like Taesan is their chaperone despite the fact that Sungho and Riwoo are older than him, you’ve learned.

“You shouldn’t be. Sleep is good.” You close your eyes again, and a silence settles over you. You’ve created your own little bubble in the hallway, and it might not even include Taesan. Right now, it’s just you and your desperate need for rest. You are not the kind of person to pull an all-nighter.

“I told you you were going to crash.” He reminds you and you hum in response. “Look,” he gets your attention by putting a hand on your shoulder, “the boys are out, come back to my place and you can take a nap. I know that your room still smells like disinfectant.” A smile creeps across your face at this. It’s true: your room smells like the pungent iodine that you used to clean the minor abrasions on his cheekbone. You still have no idea why Jen has that much power in her.

“Lead the way.” 

“It’s way closer to this building than it is to your building, it’s barely any walk at all.” He assures you. Regardless, you have to speed walk to keep up with the pace.

“Do you have hot chocolate, or anything?” At your drawled request, he tsks. Pressing his lips together, you take that as a no.

“I’ll see what I can do. Woonhak owes me like nine favors.” He laughs a little at this, and you smile too. Unremarkably, it hasn’t become spring overnight, and so the wind is still nipping at your face. You were wise enough to wear your Taesan-provided gloves, though. Looking at Taesan’s face and the way the wind makes his face a little pink, you’re pretty sure you could find the whole color palette on his face. Except blue, maybe. You’ve got the other colors covered. Red for his cheeks, orange, yellow, green, and purple for his bruise. Huh, that bruise contributes a lot. “It’s just this way.” He says, guiding you with a pointed hand towards a complex highly similar to your own. Same red brick buildings and same overhang. The difference is that, you know from picking your roommate, this building is the apartment sector. Frankly, it’s incredible that Taesan and his roommates are all friends. You know other people who got apartments, or even quads, who aren’t so happy.

As you step into the entrance way, you feel the warm air hit your face. This building is much warmer than yours, maybe that’s a good thing. Walking up the stairs, Taesan is steady behind you. You wonder if he’s thinking about catching you like he had to the time you were drunk off your ass.

As soon as you enter the apartment dorm, your focus tunnel visions on the soft couch in the middle of the room. It looks like heaven as you step towards it. You were unfairly ripped from the comfort of your bed for that fuckass presentation and now you can return to your natural state, sleeping. You thank whatever power is out there because this is so incredibly opportune.

As soon as you shed your backpack and winter coat and collapse on the couch, you’re out like a light. No words from Taesan can wake you now, even if it is him professing his undying love for you. No, it’s up to your internal clock to make you up, lest you sleep forever.

Your internal clock does wake you up. You’re groggy, but it’s still light out, so you couldn’t have slept for so long. As you assess your situation, you notice two differences.

First, you’re warm.

A navy blue throw blanket has been carefully draped over you, and you’re pretty sure you didn’t do that yourself. You bite the inside of your cheek—happily, this time. It’s proof he does care, and maybe you’re letting the gesture get to your head. You do… not like Han Taesan, right?

Second, you’re alone in Taesan’s living room.

There are no signs of life, not from his roommates nor from the mountain himself. That’s more puzzling. You would have assumed he would have stayed for one reason or another, maybe he went out to get hot chocolate? He told you that he would have Woonhak do it.

Looking around the room, you take in the sights. There’s a modest TV with various video game consoles, there is a section of the room clearly designated for guitars, and it’s remarkably clean. Not too bad for five early 20-somethings and one 18 year old. It’s kind of impressive, actually. There isn’t any leftover food out and even the dishes in the sink have been rinsed, if not thoroughly washed. You pat down the area around you in search of your phone, mainly to check the time, but also to figure out where the hell Taesan went. Something about his absence hurts your heart in an uncomfortable way. You would have liked to see him when you woke up. Still… you do not like Han Taesan… do you? No, no. You don’t like him, that’s silly. He’s just your partner for a group project.

As you locate your phone, you hear the door open behind you and you swing your head around to see Taesan standing in the doorway with a hand behind his back and a bag in the hand that’s visible to you. Another bag, nice.

“Good morning.” He smiles at your state. The way he looks at you suggests your hair is out of order. You fail obviously as you try to subtly sort it out.

“I had a great nap. You have a good napping couch.” You bring a hand up to rub your right eye even though your mom says it causes astigmatism. It would suck to have contacts in right about now.

“Well,” he says, setting down the bag on the counter, “I have your hot chocolate.” You’re pretty sure your face lights up at this, it’s the perfect thing for this kind of dingy day. “And,” he continues, “I got it from a café near here; store-bought isn’t as good.” He takes a cardboard carrier out of the bag and presents his finds to you, two lidded cups.

“You sure know the way to my heart.” You mean that on a deeper level that you hope he doesn’t catch. “What’s behind your back?” You ask, pointing to the obvious hand still tucked behind him. 

He looks sheepish and brings the hand to his front, “I got these for you.” His cool act is far gone, he seems almost timid. In his left hand he grasps a bouquet of an assortment of colorful flowers. There are assorted yellows, blues, pinks, purples, and reds. It’s like a sunset wrapped in brown paper and tied in a pretty twine bow.

“Taesan!” You exclaim excitedly, jumping up from the couch to go collect your gift. “Why?” You poke. He’s quiet for a second, the question seems to echo throughout the room. A chorus of ‘why.’ You meet his eyes for just a second, but the shared glance makes your heart beat faster. He seems to bite his tongue, there’s a shining reflection of the kitchen light in his dark brown eyes. You don’t see them crinkle up, indicative of a straight face.

He swallows like his throat is thick, “I got them for you because I like you… I like you romantically.”

You’re not sure if your heart swells or drops.

From this one statement, you learn two things. You learn that Han Taesan likes you, and you learn that you like Han Taesan. You really like Han Taesan. You like the way he’s cold but kind and the way his bangs fall and his endless care for his roommates and his hardworking nature. 

You like Han Taesan.

You take the bouquet in your hands, analyzing the flowers. You notice they’re mostly tulips, but flanked by carnations, baby’s breath, and bluebells. A smile grows on your face as you look back up at him. He looks absolutely terrified. It’s not worth it to tease him here. He’s vulnerable, you should be too.

You begin to open your mouth, but before you can, he continues in an attempt at defense, “listen to me, please. I thought you were cute and smart even before the party and all of those incidents, but now that I know you I can’t not tell you. You’re witty and stubborn and playful and it’s so easy to talk to you. You were cute when you were drooling, I didn’t know that was possible. You make fun of me but I like it because you’re so kind. I… I like you.” He confesses, he’s talking fast and you think your heart might burst with excitement. Excitement isn’t the right word—euphoria? Joy? Happiness? Exhilaration? No word is quite right for how you feel about Taesan. “The tulips symbolize love.” He says under his breath and the flowers take on a whole new meaning. You feel like a tulip. Tulips symbolize love.

The smile that bursts across your face makes his eyebrows release all their tension immediately, “Taesan, I like you too. I really like you,” you tell him, “tulips symbolize love.” You look down at the bouquet and see the array of tulips that smile back at you.

“Can I kiss you? I’m not drunk, I swear.” He promises. The allusion to your first meeting makes you laugh. You met with an ask for a kiss, and now he confesses with an ask for a kiss.

“Yes.” You whisper, and he throws his arms around you, pressing his forehead to yours. You sway like that for a moment, you feel the cold of his jacket against your arms and the pressure of his hand on the small of your back. You look at him and in his eyes you see him. No walls, just you two. Just you and Taesan.

You wrap your arms around his neck, one hand still holding the bouquet and pull his lips to yours. Warmth blossoms in your chest—his kiss is soft and tender and he tastes like mint. Mint might be your new favorite flavor. His lips fit perfectly with yours. You feel the soft press of his fingers into your back, pulling you closer to him. Your lips part slightly and you’re out of breath before he even starts to pull away. His kiss is just like him, just when you think you know him all, he shows you a new surprise, something new. After stalling for just a second, he pulls you back to him and deepens the kiss. You could kiss this minty boy forever.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours again, fluttering his eyes open and shut.

“I wrote a song about this. A serenade.” He says breathlessly.

Even in the dead of winter, you think your heart melts all over again.

NOTES: Shoutout Hartford Whalers even tho they sports disbanded! SINGING MAN CAMEO! The singing man is a genuine character in my life. Living in the city center of a major city means I get LOTS of people doing weird shit like the emoji guy (who wears outfits only with bright fucking emojis, my friends have seen him too, he’s wacky), the tree guy (a man who always walks around with a fallen branch on his head, no idea why), and the supercar medical worker (woman in scrubs who drives down the streets with a loud ass car that looks like one of those fuckass shoes with big holes in them you know what im talking about the kidney shoes). I take a pic and keep them in a folder on my phone called “recurring characters.” I have never seen the singing man. He walks past my house every weekday at 11pm and I like to have my windows open and he sings loud Spanish ballads. I love him. Singing man my beloved. Sorry this is a slowburn, it was forced out of me i fear. is this a slowburn? methinks so.

[mocchiixxx]

Seventeen's Ways of Saying 'I Do' Series# | 07 : Processing… Please Wait.

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Soft Romance

Lee Jihoon | Woozi x Reader

Summary: You jokingly tell Woozi that you like his last name and ask if you can have it. Instead of getting flustered or teasing you back, he just stares at you, looking like he’s buffering. But when he finally responds, he does it in the most Woozi way possible—leaving you both embarrassed for different reasons.

You and Woozi are in his studio, where he’s been working on a new song for hours. You’re curled up on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone as he hums softly to himself, adjusting the levels on his screen.

Feeling playful, you glance at him and casually say, “I like your last name. Can I have it?”

Silence...

Woozi’s fingers freeze over his keyboard. His entire body stills.

You watch as his ears immediately turn red.

Then, very slowly, he turns his chair toward you, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “What did you just say?”

You blink innocently. “I said I like your last name. Can I have it?”

For a moment, Woozi just stares at you. No reaction, no movement— just blank, unreadable buffering.

“Are you okay?” you ask, amused.

He finally blinks, his voice coming out a little too serious. “Are you proposing to me?”

You nearly choke. “WHAT— no?! I was joking!”

Woozi exhales, leaning back in his chair. “Oh.”

A beat of silence.

Then, under his breath, he mumbles, “That’s disappointing.”

Your eyes widen. “WHAT?”

His head snaps up, looking horrified at himself. “NOTHING— ”

You grin.

“Lee Jihoon,” you drawl, scooting closer. “Did you just say it’s disappointing that I was joking?”

He glares at you, crossing his arms. “No, you misheard.”

“Ohhh, so you want me to take your last name?” you tease.

He groans, turning back to his computer as if ignoring you will make you disappear. “I am literally trying to work.”

“Just say it, Jihoon,” you giggle.

“Say what?” he mutters.

“That you wouldn’t mind if I became Mrs. Lee.”

You expect him to throw something at you, or at least tell you to shut up, but instead, without even looking at you, he just shrugs.

“Wouldn’t mind.”

Your heart skips.

Now you’re buffering.

Woozi smirks at the stunned look on your face. “What? You were the one who brought it up.”

Damn it. You just got Lee Jihoon-ed.

Bonus:

Later that night, Woozi texts you.

Woozi: FYI, if you joke about taking my last name again, you better mean it. You: …Are you proposing to me? Woozi: Goodnight.

[darldelight]

𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗡𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗔 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌

𝝑𓏲 lando norris ⸝⸝⠀ she!reader , desi!reader , nepo baby , fluff. ◜ᯅ◝ ──── 𝓬𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒖𝒎! ✶ requests are open!

───── playing sajda by rahat fateh ali khan, and richa sharma

╰– in which, lando norris swears he's too tough for sappy movies

curtains were drawn as the darkness finally stopped gathering. as the sound of microwave went off lando took out a bowl. pouring the bag of salted popcorn in it. making sure to keep it away from the small batch of caramel popcorn he made for her. ("darling you won't even finish it!" lando had argued. but just as always he still made her a small batch).

he walked into the living room. pink and orange fuzzy blankets thrown around—he would still end up stealing his way into her pink blanket. even though it was him who insisted on having orange blankets. "it looks ugly!" she retorted when they had their third movie night. hence the rule of separate blankets was introduced—not without him letting out a scandalous gasp.

and there she was, sitting on the couch in the middle of it all. his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. wearing his ln4 branded merch, going through her phone—probably something with her manager—so cozy, so at home. what struck him was the box of tissues. "love look at me." he said gently, setting down the two bowls and holding her chin to turn her face to him. his eyes scanned every part of her face. "you're not wearing makeup right?" he asked. "yeah i took it off before shower." she answered.

"then what's the tissues for?" he asked again, leaning down to place a kiss on her temple. "oh we're gonna watch a sad movie!" she chirped. lando couldn't help but let out a fond chuckle at her excitement. so akain to a child.

"so they are for you?" he teased. "please." she rolled her eyes in her trademark dramatic flair. "it's for both of us." she said as she took the remote, opening her amazon prime account. "sure darling sure." lando scoffed. "hey don't act so tough you cried at sheershah." she narrowed her eyes at him. "cried is a strong word! i just teared up because i wasn't expecting that ending. besides i didn't cry at dead poets society." she just rolled her eyes again.

"it's my favorite movie. i mean yeah it's really really amazing with the story, directory, and songs and all. but this was for the first time i was on sets." she explained as she typed in the name of the movie "well not the first time. i don't recall anything from the first time i was on sets because i was so young. it was during the filming of kal ho naa ho. but i remeber everything i did during sets of this film." she added.

"so were you in any of these films?" he asked, guiding her head to his shoulder. "no—" she chuckled "—i honestly just followed karan everywhere." lando smiled, already picturing his young and baby faced girlfriend running around the million dollar sets. no wonder she carries the same child like spark when she speaks about this particular movie. "my darling nepo baby." he thought himself.

"my name is khan and i am not a terrorist." rizwan khan (or shah rukh khan) spoke.

as the song tere naina played he understood why she posted him on that so much in her private account. she was showing him this love in the only language she knew—while he, stupid and oblivious, hadn’t even understood the depth of it. lando kissed her forhead as if saying "not until now baby."

lando swears he stopped crying over sad films since he turned sixteen. but he could feel his throat going dry as mandira and rizwan argued. she yelled about how her son died because of him—because of rizwan. and poor rizwan who was trying his best to understand her.

it was the innocence of him when he asked "mandira fir mein kab vapas aau?" or as the subtitles suggested to him "mandira when do i come back?" lando swallowed the lump in his throat. he looked at his beloved who’d snuggled into his chest, pouting—eyes glassy, cheeks flushed, so heartbreakingly fragile it made his chest ache.

she was already sobbing in his arms even before rizwan started his speech. her body shaking with every sob she let out. that wrecked him more than the film ever could. he shifted, pulling her fully into his lap—arms wrapping around her protectively, one hand cupping the back of her head.

"it's okay love.... i've got you." he mumbled. lando couldn't help but remeber how she told him this was her favourite film and how she re-watched it to a point she lost the count. he couldn't help but wonder did she cry even then too? did someone hold her? his stomach churned at the awful, damning possibility of no. now, to him, it just wasn't about the film anymore. his heart was too concerned for the girl crying in his arms over a movie she once watched being made.

"it's just a movie." they would say—and he know it. but how could it be just about the movie when his beloved was crying. it was about her tears, about her feelings. even if it was in the past—his heart ached over the possibility of her crying onto her pillow sobbing all alone. even if it was just over a movie.

he felt his own eyes sting with tears. the tears that fell along with rizwan's tears as mandira hugged him in his hospital bed. he pressed his face into her hair, gripping her tighter as though the act itself could undo time. his lips moved against her temple like a vow.

"you cruel cruel girl. you made me cry." he muttered in her hair as the credits rolled. "i told you it was gonna be a sad movie." she chuckled wiping her tears. "you didn't warn me enough!" he argued, still blinking thru his tears.

the caramel popcorn bowl was still half full. fuzzy orange blanket abandoned on the other end of the couch.

[earlysunshines]

secret rhymes - 53. just the two of us (written)

a/n: i have not written in ten years oh my

aside from being lost on the last song of your album, your life has been pretty great.

you and hanni have been talking more. it started with a few calls after the night you both cleared the air, soft check-ins that slowly turned into long conversations stretching past midnight about anything, everything, and nothing. sometimes you'd be fine just listening to the occasional hum or breath that gets caught on facetime, and that's enough for both of you.

occasionally you'd regret staying up past midnight—the groans in the morning and the slight headache always make you second-guess calling so late. but you like exchanging small updates on what's new; you tell her about a song you've been stuck on, and she tells you about an embarassing trainee moment she still hasn't lived down.

(you nearly snort, "you cursed at the evaluator?"

"i wasn't trying to! i just- ugh! i saw her for the next monthly evaluation and it was so... grueling..."

hanni catches your toothy cackle and the way you fall on your bed from how hilarious her story is, which makes her eyes soften. she falters for a moment, not that you notice, but it's a tidal wave in crashing in her heart.

"you're so cute, it's crazy. i'd kill to go back in time and witness you do that again."

"you're the worst person i know."

"sure, pham." you snicker. there it is, that shake of your head through the screen that leaves hanni a little weak. something churns in her stomach and it has her hoping you feel the same way she does.)

you don't even realize how often you've been seeing hanni until yunjin teases you for showing up to hybe under the pretense of "visiting her," when it's obvious your feet are already turning toward newjeans' practice room.

it's become kind of a joke—"how's my name still the excuse when i'm the one getting ten-minute visits?" yunjin grins. you roll your eyes but don't deny it.

you and hanni have a rhythm now. sometimes, she's still in rehearsal when you arrive—her schedule has been quite packed with her upcoming comeback—and you'll wait outside her room with her favorite tea, leaning against the wall while listening to the muffled beat thumping from inside. she'll spot you through the mirror and beam mid-dance, cheeks flushed, waving with one hand while mouthing something like "wait a bit!"

other times, she's already waiting for you after you've blessed yunjin with your ten-minute-long visits. she's usually perched on a bench in the hall with a sly smile, saying, "took you long enough," even though you're the one who texted on my way minutes prior.

once, she grabbed the end of your hoodie as you passed by just to say, "you look really good today," before flashing a smile that takes your breath away momentarily and disappearing around the corner like nothing had happened. it's not difficult for her to leave you standing alone in the halls with your heart skipping a beat and a grin on your face.

it's been a few months, but little moments make it seem like you've known hanni much longer. a brush of her fingers against yours when she hands you her phone. her shoulders bumping into yours as you walk down the corridor, neither of you bothering to move away. a laugh too soft, a glance that lingers a second longer than it should. you haven't labeled anything, not like you would dare to, but the air between you thickens with the tension from what you two are way too scared to admit.

more than friends, less than lovers, and together two people who are too scared to do anything about it.

you're finished with all the communication that was needed to organize a music video shooting, and only one song is left to finish up your album. there's a lot of stress from all the preparation and technical stuff, but it would've been way worse without the daily texts and calls from hanni.

the past month after settling things, you've filmed music videos, tweaked a few songs here and there, and of course tried your best to finish your last track.

hanni has also let you know that she's been pretty stressed herself with preparing for her own comeback. she rambles on about how she's iffy on one song's choreo because it's far from her style, but you make sure to let her know she's going to do great. you two are each other's rock.

after the last day of shooting your title track, you barely make it to your bed before collapsing face-first into the comforter, limbs heavy and sore from the music video shoot (which required much more physical activity than you thought it would).

it's quiet—yujin's been staying with her girlfriend every other day, so it leaves you alone some nights—but the sound of your phone buzzing somewhere in your jacket sleeve breaks the silence. you fish it out, sighing tiredly before you light up at the sight of hanni's name glowing on the screen with a simple: home yet?

you text back a lazy "yeah, just got here," and almost instantly, she calls. you flip the phone on, speaking and drop it beside your head, setting the back of one hand on your forehead as you stare up at the ceiling. you're tired, tired enough to where you can't really budge, but not too (or ever) tired to hear her voice.

she asks how you are, you do the same with all your energy, and there it goes—the conversation flows easily.

"minji knocked off danielle's claw clip by accident during practice today," hanni says, tone warm and amused. "it like, flew across the room! danielle looked so betrayed, she was soooo dramatic, i love her so bad. we laughed for like five minutes straight, i swear my abs were forming."

a tired laugh escaped your lips. "i'm glad you guys had fun."

there's a littel pause, and then hanni's voice softens. "you sound tired."

"yeah... physically," you murmur. your gaze blurs over the ceiling as your mind wanders. "but other than that i'm just..." you train off for a second before adding, "i've been wanting to see you more. not in hallways or between practices when i visit. just—like, you and i. no one else. i think i miss that."

the line goes quiet and you think for a second the call might've dropped. have you said too much? you must be way too tired—

hanni's soft inhale interrupts your spiral. "you can't just say that out of nowhere," hanni says, her voice quieter than usual, laced with surprise.

a sleepy smile tugs at your lips. "sorry, but i do mean it." you exhale slowly, smiling to yourself. "do you think you can sneak out? we don't even have to do anything. i just want to be somewhere else, together."

there's silence again, but not the bad kind. you swear you can hear a smile in her voice when she responds, "if you're asking then... yeah."

it's just five minutes past eleven when you find yourself jogging down the dim sidewalk toward hanni's dorm, hoodie flapping behind you while you hold onto your cap. there wasn't a clear plan, just that you'd be at her place, and here you are.

waiting by her building at this hour felt more peaceful than anything else had in weeks.

she slips out minutes later in a hoodie and slides, the soft sound of her laugh cutting through the silence when she sees you. "you look like you just ran here."

"maybe because i did, idiot." you say, out of breath, matching her smile as you both start to walk down the street side by side.

the convenience store is still open, a small space of flickering fluorescent lights and soft american pop on the radio. you wander in, grabbing a bag of coffee and a cup of ice to put it in, then pay quickly.

"seriously?" hanni raises a brow. "you're gonna dose yourself with caffeine at this hour?"

you shrug, pouring it into the cup without a care. "grandma, it's the only thing keeping me up."

she snorts. "grandma? i'm the one keeping you alive."

"caffeine at night won't kill me, loser."

"maybe i will before it does." she says, earning a snicker from you in response.

eventually, the two of you stumble upon a little playground tucked between apartment buildings, empty except for the creak of the swings and the rustle of tree leaves planted nearby. both of you climb up the platform of the jungle gym, legs dangling, shoulders brushing. it's quiet there, peaceful, with only the slight hum from the city around you.

for a while, you just talk about whatever. work. music. hanni tells you about a weird dream she had the night before about a haunted sink. you tell her about the time you accidentally went live with toothpaste on your chin. you guys both giggle, and it's light, easy. but then the conversation dips to romance in regards to the album you've been working on.

"do you think you'll ever fall in love?" she asks, her voice soft now.

the question hits you like a bullet train. you exhale through your nose, looking up at the sky. "after lauren... i kind of gave up on it for a while, but it was easy to romanticize stuff, especially as an artist." you begin, leaning back more comfortably as you sip on your coffee. "i got tired of believing in it the more that relationship went on, i think."

she hums, barely nodding, but you can feel her listening.

"but..." you tilt your head to look at her. she's already looking at you and the moon casts a slight glow in her eyes. "then this girl came into my life out of nowhere, literally. she's annoyingly good at everything, pretty, genuine, and i think of her all the time now. i don't know... it's hard not to be in love with someone like her." your eyes flicker toward her, catching the soft surprise written across her face. "really hard, actually."

there's a stillness between you and hanni now—not awkward, but delicate.

"what about you?" you ask quietly, eyes on hers as you swallow lightly. "have you ever been in love or anything like that...?"

hanni hums, thoughtful. "i don't think so," she says after a moment. "i never had time to htink about stuff like that. crushes came and went, and they were... nice, i guess. fleeting. but nothing like this." her voice dips softer at the end, barely legible.

you make sure you're not making things up in your head. "nothing like what?"

now you two are staring at each other—your eyes are slightly widened from surprise and hanni's can't decide whether they should stay on your lips or eyes. she turns her head slightly, meeting your gaze in the dim glow of a streetlamp filtered through the trees.

"nothing like how i feel right now," she confesses, "with you."

there's a pause. like the wind holds its breath and the world freezes completely.

"i think about you all the time, even when i try not to. when i'm busy, tired, or when i'm supposed to be focused on something else—you're still there in my mind. and that's never happened before."

you stare at her, heart loud in your chest, loud enough that you swear she must hear it.

"hanni," you shift a little closer, shoulder pushing into hers ever so slightly. "i really like you."

you two gulp simultaneously as your bodies shift to face each other a bit more.

with more certainty, you continue, "i've tried to talk myself out of it a hundred times. told myself it wasn't a good idea, or that you wouldn't feel the same, but..." you exhale, a small laugh escaping in an attempt to calm your pounding heart. "for the past month's there's been nothing on my mind but you. just you. always you."

stillness settles in the gap between you two, the gap that decreases with each second as your faces inch closer.

and then she leans in—slow, hesitant, but sure—and you meet her halfway. the kiss is gentle and cautious as you two test the waters. her lips are warm, soft, and they taste like the strawberry tea she had earlier.

you deepen the kiss and it feels like exhaling after holding your breath too long. it's less careful now, something familiar like you were meant to kiss her like this. her hand settles on your neck just under your jawline and you swear you melt.

she pulls back, but not far. her nose brushes against yours as she settles her other hand on your jawline, her thumb just by your ear. her touch is warm, you'd let her hold you like that for as long as she'd like.

"i've wanted to do that for a while," she whispers.

"me too," you smile, a little dazed. "i like this a lot."

your hand snakes to the back of her neck, pulling her in for another kiss. you feel her smile into you, and you do the exact same.

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