#author:chewy

[7fics]

Markson friendship jackjae Romance. Jackson doesn't really know YJ but he knows he's kinda weird but still kinda cute and he sits next to Jackson in science so Jackson texts Mark and says "the Youngjae kid is cute tbh" and Mark being a dick takes a screenshot of their messages and sends it to Youngjae, who is still sitting next to Jackson.

Warnings: mark pov lol

Word Count: 2.5k ish

Author: Chewy’s back! and graduating high school oh my god

managed to sneak some markbum in there lol whoops hope ya enjojojoiiiii

grades: JB: senior Jinyoung: senior (skipped a grade) Jackson: junior Mark: junior (redoing a grade) Youngjae: sophomore Yugyeom/bambam: freshmen

“Bro, you hype? First day of school jitters? Whatchu gonna eat for breakfast?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jackson, why are you calling me at 6 in the morning,” Mark groans. It’s too early for this shit. It’s always too early for Jackson’s shit, but “That’s just the impact of the Wang” or so “the Wang” says.

“It’s the first day of school! You should be up and getting ready, don’t you want to start off the school year refreshed and excited?” Mark can practically hear Jackson jumping up and down through the phone. Oh, wait, is that the sound of springs squeaking? Then never mind, Mark can legitimately hear Jackson jumping up and down.

“More like dead tired. School doesn’t start until nine.”

“Whatever. Have you looked at your schedule yet? Did you see what classes you had? Do we share any classes?” Jackson’s talking non-stop, and from the sound of it he’s also trying to chew his breakfast at the same time. Mark’s not really into that ASMR shit.

“I already sent you a screenshot last night, keep up,” he responds, groaning as he finally crawls out of bed. With Jackson this hyped up, he knows there’s no chance of falling back asleep so he might as well get ready. “We have a few classes together, I think. Check again?”

“Oh, right!” there’s a pause as Jackson scrambles to his laptop, and Mark thanks the gods above for the short moment of blessed silence. “We have the same lunch period! And Humanities and Numbers for Nerds, thank goodness. You’re going to need to tutor me again.”

“No.” Not until you stop calling “math” “Numbers for Nerds,” Mark thinks. It’s too early to voice opinions, though, so he keeps that to himself.

“And Euro, yass, this is nearly fully booked Markson, get pumped! But wait, aw man, no science together. Why would you ever take Physics? And it’s first in the morning, too!” Jackson continues.

“God bless,” Mark’s not sure if he would have been able to handle Jackson so early every morning. Especially not after the copper incident last year. “Now I’m hanging up, gotta shower. See you at school.”

“Bye~~~ Markie pooh,” Jackson calls, but by then, Mark’s already ended the call.

—

“Jaebum, please,” Mark says the minute he enters the Physics classroom that morning. “Save me.”

“Babe, what’s wrong? It’s only the first day of school,” Jaebum grumbles, barely lifting his head from his desk to greet Mark.

“Exactly. However,” Mark says, handing his phone over to Jaebum. “Some asshole thinks that I should care about his choice in sock color today.” There are somewhere around, oh, just about hundreds of new text messages, voicemails and snapchats from Jackson, updating Mark on the every second of his first day of school prep. And that’s just the preparation; the school day hasn’t even started damn it.

“Aw, yikes. I got a picture of a flowchart of first day of school possibilities from Jinyoung last night. And then earlier this morning he sent me a selfie of himself setting the same flowchart on fire, so I’m not sure what that means.”

“Seriously? It’s only the first day of school why is he stressing like it’s finals week again,” Mark groans as he lays his head on the desk. Jaebum only pats him on the back and gives a shrug in response, and Mark is eternally grateful. He decides that now is a great moment (and the only moment) to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet before the madness called “High School” and “Being Wang Jackson’s One and Only BFFL For Life” (“Jackson you repeated for life” “Shhhh”) begins.

Moments later, the beautiful calm is shattered by the sound of Kara blasting through the air. “The fuck Jackson, we’re in class,” Mark says, opting to hit decline. Jackson apparently doesn’t get the message, however, and Mark’s phone spends the rest of class buzzing violently in his backpack.

Mark of course dutifully ignores everything. (At one point, a girl in front of him freaks out because she’s sure there’s a swarm of bees in the classroom. It’s just Jackson, though.)

—

“Hey.” Mark takes his lunch tray, which is literally piled to the sky with only french fries, and slides into the bench between Jackson and Jaebum. He looks down the table and nods at the kid at the end of the table. “‘Sup?” They’re not friends, but the kid sells some fine “herbs” if you know what I’m saying. Imported. From Thailand.

Mark doesn’t drink coffee. He drinks tea. And he’s ready to beat anyone (meaning Jinyoung) who mocks him for it. It’s not like he fucking reads books like some nerds (meaning Jinyoung).

“Hey, Mork, what’s up?”

“Can you not.”

“Nope! Those are a lot of fries buddy, I’m really kind of worried about your health, you know?” Jackson says, reaching over to grab a handful.

“I hope you choke.”

Jackson doesn’t choke, but he does snort and get some caught in his nostril. While Jackson is whining and screaming for help, Mark turns to Jaebum, “Hey.”

“Hey babe,” Jaebum responds. He also takes a french fry, but actually manages to look pretty sexy eating it, so Mark will opt to forgive him this one time.

“Do you think you can get senioritis when you’re a Junior?” Mark asks, shoving the plate of fries to the side so that he can lay his head on the table. And then push the fries directly into his mouth without actually lifting anything.

“Dude. It’s been three days since we got back from summer break,” Jaebum gives him a look, although really, he has no right to judge.

“I didn’t do any of my summer Humanities assignments, so I already have a zero.” Ok, so maybe Jaebum does have some right to judge. But only a little.

“Holy fuck YOU GUYS!” Jackson screams, and then immediately makes a shushing noise, “Shhh! I can’t let him notice me!”

“Jackson. You are the loudest one in this group right now.”

“Ah, sorry, I forgot. But look!” Jackson whisper shouts, vaguely gesturing toward some corner of the cafeteria. “Look at that!”

Mark squints, but isn’t really sure what Jackson’s freaking out over. He doesn’t see any signs for free pizza, or anything remotely worth getting hyped up over.

“That kid! Over there!” Jackson’s voice is steadily rising, but they’re in the middle of a public school cafeteria so Mark decides to not give any fucks for now. “The one that looks absolutely beautiful and basically is probably the Sun on the Teletubbies but all grown up! He’s in my Bio class and I swear you guys, I am in love.”

“Oh hey, that’s Youngjae,” Jaebum remarks.

Hmmm, Youngjae. Mark’s sure he’s heard that name somewhere.

“Remember? He’s the really loud tenor in my choir class. Tried to bring his dog to school last year.”

“Oh yeah. Coco. He’s my neighbor.”

“You know him?” Jackson gasps. He crawls over Mark and grabs Jaebum by the collars. “Please. Tell me more. I must know.”

And so the rest of lunch continues just like any other day, with Mark trying to ignore Jackson and continue eating french fries. It’s a hard task, but nothing that Mark can’t handle.

—

Another week of dozing through classes has passed in a blissful blur, and Mark settles into Physics, pulling out his notebook. He’s just trying to decide whether he should use the book as a pillow or what it’s actually meant for when his phone goes berserk again.

from: wangster

holy sheet mark

do u remember that incredibly cute ball of sunshine underclassman I was talking about

the one that probably farts pixie dust

and is CuTE as bALLS???

YOUNGJAEEEEE god kill me now even his name is lovely

he just got assigned to the same lab group as me

ME

the fuq is this, a fucking rom com??? i M SO READY to NOT embarrass myself infant of this kid

**in front ha fuck u 2 autocorrect

“What is that?” Jinyoung asks, peering over Marks shoulder.

“It’s just Jackson, talking about his new crush. I’m just gonna ignore it,” Mark concludes, setting it on vibrate and then tossing it to the corner of his desk.

“He just texted you again,” Jinyoung says, picking up the phone. “What does he mean by ‘THE THING’?”

“Shit, give me that,” Mark says, suddenly alert and scrambling for the phone.

from: wangster

do you think he’d think i was cool if i did THE THING again?

Mark furiously types.

from: mark

NO!

DO NOT. DRINK. THE COPPER. SOLUTION.

It takes a minute for the reply to come back.

from: wangster

aw cmon man, it wasn’t that bad

and don pretend like u didn’t take a taste too, i’m not the only criminal here

anyway i wasn’t talking about that

like

what if i “accidentally” spilled a chemical on my hot bod

and then i have to rip off my shirt and show off my sexy abs ;)

Mark groans and lays his head upon the desk. “Help. I think I have a migraine coming on.”

“What’s wrong?” Jaebum asks, sliding into his seat with 34 seconds to spare. Mark just holds up his phone in response. Jaebum sighs and formulates a response in Mark’s stead.

from: mark

your abs won’t be sexy anymore with a god damn acid burn on them. don’t do that shit. —JB

Before Jaebum can hand the phone back to Mark, Jinyoung snags it out of his hands. “Oh boy,” he giggles. “This is gold. Do you mind if I screenshot this and airdrop it to myself? Just for when I’m sad, I promise.”

“Go ahead,” Mark waves him on. At this point, he doesn’t think Jackson has any dignity left to muster up. “Just don’t accidentally send it to Youngjae or anything.”

There is a beat of silence, as three pairs of eyes meet. Then they all break, chuckling to themselves. Mark wheezes a little. “Nah, I wouldn’t. I’m not that kind of friend.”

There’s another moment of silence, as Jinyoung takes one long look at the messages, and then back up at Mark, then Jaebum, then back at Mark. “Aren’t you?”

“I mean, we’re best friends, come on,” Mark says. He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly sweating in this freezing air conditioned classroom. “Right. Best friends. Who forgive each other no matter what,” Jaebum muses, half to himself. They meet eyes, and then break. Nervous laughter fills the air around them.

“Nah, nah, nah. We’re cool,” Mark says, taking back the phone and going to delete the screenshots. But, Jinyoung is right. This is kind of gold. “Maybe I’ll just start a message to Youngjae, but not actually send it, just to freak Jackson out.”

“Oh yeah!” Jinyoung agrees, aggressively nodding. “Take a screenshot of you you pretending to send those to Youngjae. Jackson would die. And it’s good revenge for him stealing my last twizzler.”

“Alright, I’m doing it,” Mark says. They’re all three cackling at the message, Mark’s hand hovering over the phone, when the teacher walks in and slams the door shut. Hard.

All three students jump in their chairs simultaneously. “Put you phone away!” he demands, and Mark sheepishly pulls his phone off his desk, but not before seeing what’s on the screen.

“Oh shit,” he looks up at Jaebum, wide-eyed.

“You hit send, didn’t you?”

—

Three hours later, Mark finds himself on the floor of the cafeteria, groveling at Jackson’s feet. “It was an accident, I swear, you know I would never do that to you. I would never even think of doing that to you!”

“How. The fuck. Do you accidentally send screenshots of my text messages to the guy who just happens to be the subject of my messages?” Jackson asks. His eyebrows are halfway up his face at this point.

“Ok, fine,” Mark concedes, “Maybe I did think of doing that to you. But I swear I only thought! I never actually meant to hit send. Tell him, Jinyoung!”

Jackson’s menacing eyebrows swivel to face Jinyoung, who currently has his nose buried in a book, with only his ears peeking out. No matter how much of a bookworm everybody says he is, no books are that interesting. “Well?” Jackson asks, leg shaking the table.

“Uhh… It was Mark’s idea!” then he slams his book shut and bolts.

Mark gasps, “That bastard.”

Jackson grabs at Mark’s collar, and as Mark flails, he looks over to Jaebum in an attempt at one last plea for help. Jaebum just raises his eyebrows, and scoots his tray further away down the table.

Just as Mark resigns himself to his fate, he is saved by the bell. More specifically, his text alert, which is actually a four second clip of a recording of Jackson screaming for five minutes straight. Everybody in the whole cafeteria looks over at them, including Youngjae (an important detail for Jackson) and the security guards and other adult staff (an important detail for Mark). “Dude get off of me before we get in trouble,” Mark whispers. Jackson only complies because Youngjae is looking and he can bet 99.999% that Youngjae probably hates violence and sings about flowers growing as a past time.

“Ugh, whatever, I’m still mad. You better buy me chocolate milk for the rest of the school year.”

“What are you, Kim Yugyeom?” Mark scoffs, but knows that he probably will, even if only for a few weeks instead of the whole school year. Anything to get his friend back. Even so, he slaps Jackson’s hands away as they drift toward his tray of fries. While battling Jackson over his lunch with his left hand, Mark unlocks his phone with his left (unnecessary AN: this was supposed to say right, but I was totally zoned out when typing this, and, my dudes, it is so wicked funny to imagine Mark with two left hands). “Oh my god, Jackson!”

“What now?” Jackson grumbles, slipping through Mark’s defenses and filching a fry or two or three or twelve.

“Jackson, look,” Mark gasps breathlessly, handing his phone over to Jackson.

“Holy fuck.”

Right there, on the screen (surrounded by way too many emojis and stickers) are the following words:

from: c youngjae

aww, can you tell jackson hyung thank you for the compliments

and also that i don’t want him hurting himself!! i’m sure he looks better shirtless on the basketball courts than in a science lab *winky face blushing emoji*

oh! also mark hyung, my family is going out of town for labor day, can you watch coco? thanks!

Mark grins, looking up at Jackson’s shining face. “Am I the best wingman ever or what?”

“Yes!” Jackson shouts, drawing looks once again. “But you still owe me chocolate milk for the stress that you put me through for this past hour.”

“Yo, lunch period isn’t even an hour long.”

[7ficsandyou]

Yugyeom is one of my top biases so I was just wondering if there are any writers currently writing any yugyeom ficsl

Hello there anon! Thanks for asking, you can check out our claimed prompts page here to see about any works in progress. It looks like there’s quite a few works involving Yugyeom in a pairing and a few Yugyeom-centric works in progress as well! Thanks for your support!

[7fics]

Jackson plays crappy matchmaker for Youngjae and Jaebum, and Youngjae avoids his feelings long enough to hurt Yugyeom.

Warnings: swearing, and some sexual content (not too explicit though)

Word Count: 5.6k+

Author(s): Mia and Chewy

A/N: It’s been a really long time, but our promised fic for our lottery winner from celebrating 2k followers is finally done! Sorry it took so long, but hopefully we’ve done your prompt justice :) 

I tried my best to incorporate the things you wanted. There’s also some yugjae because I have no control over my writing and who pops up in it, as usual. I really hope you like it. 

Tall, polished windows set in gold-yellow sills spanning the length of at least two regular department stores call out to him, whispering in bittersweet chorus. They want him to empty his savings for the month on some stupid party where it will be too dark for anyone to see what he’s wearing anyway. Is he bitter? Yes. Does he have the right to be? Hell yes. His senior Junho told him to come dressed his best, that he should want to make a good impression since a bunch of alumni and other seniors are going to be there. Youngjae isn’t even completely convinced that he wants to be in Kappa Sigma anyway. It just seems like the college thing to do, and Junho may have twisted his arm about it.

Regardless, here he is, walking through the front door of Club Z, cringing at the ding that sounds out and prompts some shoppers to look in his direction curiously. Some couldn’t care either way and return to what they were doing. Others give him looks ranging from amusement to disgust to genuine confusion. It’s obvious his jeans and band t-shirt combo are to be looked down upon here.

Rich, snotty bastards.

Youngjae is very disappointed that there are as many men as women, thus his excuse of being apart of the stereotypically less fashion-savvy gender is useless. Now, walking around cluelessly touching this and that with absolutely no idea of what any of it is or what to pair anything with is just embarrassing.

Adding to his budding headache, just glimpses of the different clothing pieces tell him that he’ll have to be here for hours just to find a semi-decent outfit. He was born as round as a circle, and even though he lost some baby fat in childhood, traces of it harbor his cheeks, making the tiny shirt holes seem like future humiliation. He also has thick limbs and a flat but soft tummy. No abs. No definition. No chance of him looking good in any of the shear due to his slight but soft frame and not an inkling of hope in the crisper button downs because of the aforementioned reason. It was always easier to resign himself to the ranks of the fashion terrorists and call it a day. Not only is he overwhelmed, but he’s confused, and a bit terrified as well.

To make his situation worse, a handsome, well-dressed man is making his way over from across the floor where women were previously fawning over him, giggling and shoving to get their opportunity at stealing his attention. He pays no mind to the glares they cast at him for that.

His real concern is what he’s going to say to the man when he gets there. He can’t say that he doesn’t need any help because he obviously does. He has a shirt and these insufferable looking shorts in his hands that, even to his inexperienced eyes, don’t match at all. The man will see through that lie in a split second and then he’ll have to put his head in a dark hole and wait for lightning to strike him dead. If he says that he was just looking around he might be met with the same expression he has witnessed twice already today. That expression that clearly says ‘why come if you’re going to touch everything you can’t afford and then leave?’.  He doesn’t think he can handle that a third time.

He may just drop everything and bolt. But then he’ll be looking through his entire wardrobe last minute, getting frustrated that nothing is good enough, eventually just blow the event off and live the rest of his college career as a hermit who never goes anywhere or does anything because he has no friends and can't dress himself properly.

...Okay, so maybe that last part is mostly just exaggerated speculation. But some of it holds true. Youngjae has been wearing the same thing since he was a geeky freshman through senior year. A fresh look is long overdue. He has no idea where to start though, or where he wants to end up for that matter.

Youngjae is still caught up in his internal dialogue when the man finally arrives, having to announce himself twice before Youngjae looks up, conflicted and nervous. He feels like a small child, mismatched clothes in hand and confidence draining from his body. Up close, the man is even more striking. Although Youngjae has no idea what he’s wearing by name, he knows that it looks good. Broad muscles fill up the shirt that would be too tight in some places and too loose in others on Youngjae. Long, built legs compliment his black slacks and shiny, dark shoes top off his whole ‘I’m too hot to approach, but feel free to drool from afar’ ensemble.

“Can I help you?” the man asks with amusement in his voice. He surveys Youngjae’s “outfit” with a speculative expression and raises one eyebrow. “You have a rather particular taste. I’m not judging, but it’s kind of written in my job description to give customers advice.”

“Yeah?” Youngjae says. “And what’s your advice?”

“Lose the shorts and we’ll see what we can do with the shirt…”

“Youngjae.”

The man smiles easily. “Jaebum.”

After twenty minutes of trying on things Jaebum brings to him, Youngjae is over the whole process. He appreciates the man’s well-intentioned determination but he’s on the verge of calling everything off because  nothing is looking right despite Jaebum’s undying optimism.

“Here, last one.” Jaebum’s arm splits through the dressing room curtains with a pair of straight-legged black jeans and a soft blue cotton button-up. He’s skeptical, but puts them and steps out in front of the full-length ready to accept his fate, when he opens his eyes gingerly and is surprised to find that he doesn’t hate the ensemble.

The jeans make his legs look lean, which they aren’t, and the shirt doesn’t make him particularly podgy in any place.

“Good?” Jaebum asks with an expectant grin and a hesitant thumbs up.

“Good,” Youngjae replies.

“Awesome.” Jaebum waves him over to the register and they get on with it. Youngjae is more than glad to get the heck out of there after having sent way too much time already, even if he doesn’t mind being with Jaebum at all.

“So you go to Yeongnam U?” Jaebum asks as he’s ringing up the stuff.

“Uh, yeah. I’m majoring in Music Therapy.”

“Sweet.” Jaebum smiles and Youngjae’s heart does this thing where it feels like it’s going to explode. “So, you wanna, like, help people and stuff? Way cool. I’m only going for Composition so I can write songs and sell ‘em. But that’s noble, Youngjae.”

“Um, noble, okay. Thanks.” Youngjae scratches the back of his neck slightly as Jaebum bags the clothes and taps some numbers in the register. Youngjae pays what he owes and waves the man goodbye as he tries not to look like an animal fleeing its cage on his way out.

                                                 *     *     *    *     *

Parties have never been Youngjae’s forte.

He’s an awkward human being. It was built in him to be that way, he supposes. He’s terrible at small talk, hates being squashed by sweaty, drunk people in dark, loud places. He never knows what to say or do. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing an expensive outfit that doesn’t feel like him at all, doesn’t mold to his body like a good pair of jeans and a graphic tee. So, not only is he struggling to be anyone but himself, he’s also trying to live up to the bigshot persona clothes from Glitz warrant from someone. This was destined to be a horrible idea the second he walked in the front door. Jinyoung and Bambam ditched him, obviously preferring to hang out with their rich, cultured group of friends, leaving Youngjae to fend for himself.

Youngjae doesn’t have to think about what to do; it’s instinct by this point. He pushes his way through the writhing bodies until he gets to the back door.

Worse has come to worst.

As Youngjae is slipping outside into the warm night, a very familiar face clocks on his radar. He doesn’t have anything better to do, so he sulks on a barren swing as he watches through squinted eyes at the bodies suffocating each other on a bench near the back door. Jaebum finally comes up for air, and a girl Youngjae recognizes from his Psych class, Dasom, giggles and hiccups, begging him to come back. He shoos her away, coming to his feet and allowing her time to scramble up herself. She scurries after him like a puppy as he goes inside.

Seeing them together is almost as bitter as whatever is in his cup. He only has to take a sip to decide that the stuff is awful. He keeps drinking, though, because one, he has nothing better to do, and two, it takes some of the hurt away. He’s halfway through it when the air surrounding him becomes more crowded and the other swing’s creaking mixes in with his. As terrible as that sound is, it’s oddly comforting. It reminds him of when he would go to his friend’s house as a child to play. He had this rusty swing set that was probably the most dangerous thing they could find to play on, but it never collapsed on them and they enjoyed each other’s company while using it. He doesn’t question the welcome intrusion.

“The party’s in there,” the voice says. It has some bass, while still being very youthful. Attractive.

“I’m having my own party.” Youngjae shakes his head sadly, taking another sip out of his cup. “A party of one.”

“Make that a party of two.” The guy takes the cup right out of Youngjae’s hand and takes a whig himself. Youngjae isn’t too upset as he follows the thieving hand to a handsome face. Large yet angular brown eyes, a high, straight nose, and thick lips is what he can pick out in the semi-darkness. The stranger lets loose a long, loud sigh and returns the cup. Youngjae takes it apprehensively, sloshing what’s left boredly. He thinks he’s starting to feel it, whatever it is. This is not his first time drinking alcohol, but it’s definitely his first time getting past a few gulps without gagging and passing the wretched stuff to a more willing party-goer, or putting it back.

“I’m Yugyeom, by the way.” The stranger--Yugyeom, kicks off and begins to swing gently. The creaking gets louder.

“Youngjae.” He follows the other’s lead. The warmth growing inside of him as the liquor works its way through his system mixed with the cool breeze he unearths once he starts swinging is creating a strange synergy around him. The night becomes a little more bearable. Yugyeom is handsome, has a nice voice as well.

“So, Youngjae-hyung. You out here for a reason?” Yugyeom asks.

“Yeah,” Youngjae says, coughing to clear his clogged throat. The alcohol causes it to burn a little, but it’s just comforting warmth after that. “I’m kinda bummed about something. And I don’t really like parties. This is my frat. I would just go to my room, but there’s probably someone having sex in it. So…” He twirls the cup some more, distractedly.

“Yeah, that could get awkward.” Yugyeom laughs quietly. Another nice sound. It’s sweet, something Youngjae feels rather than just hears. It bounces along the night breeze and takes over his muddled senses.

“What about you?” Youngjae asks.

“Same, I guess. Bummed. Not one for parties,” Yugyeom says. “My friend asked me to come because he wanted to find someone here and didn’t want to look like a loser waiting around by himself. Now I’m the loser by myself. That asshole.”

“Friends suck,” Youngjae muses. He raises his nearly empty cup. It sways lightly in his loosening grip. Whatever was in it and the little bit left is strong. “Toast to the decent people left on the earth.”

So they toast to each other and drink the night away, buried in what they can handle. Surprisingly, considering his sheer height, Yugyeom is a lightweight and Youngjae has to stop himself from overdoing it because the younger had reached that point a while ago, sleepily humming tunes to songs and occasionally pairing them with the wrong words as Youngjae piggybacks him to his dorm.

The air is sweetly warm, whispering across Youngjae’s bare chest as he rummages through his drawers for some less sweaty clothes, goading on the beads of sweat as they collect uncomfortably in the crevices of his body and force him to crack the window more and more.

After tugging Yugyeom’s uncooperative limbs into cooler, cleaner clothes, Youngjae slips in beside the tall freshman, slightly distressed to find that he fits perfectly as if it were in some predestined scheme for the younger to toss one of his long, heavy arms over Youngjae’s torso, anchoring him temporarily.

“He’s a little funny-looking,” Yugyeom whispers suddenly to him. Youngjae can safely say that he is both startled and extremely peeved because how long has this ingrate been awake and why couldn’t he walk his goliath ass back to his own dorm? He’s just about ready to give it to him when the soft murmur is broken by a snor, a snuffle, and nothingness, only to repeat again a minute later with different words. Something like ‘but, cute too’.

And Youngjae realizes Yugyeom is sleep talking.

And sleep insulting him, too. This bastard.

“Hyung,” he babbles, pulling Youngjae closer. “Toast.”

Youngjae would be more livid if Yugyeom weren’t so damn cute.

                                           *     *     *    *     *

The next time Yugyeom is drunk off his ass is at Youngjae’s induction to Kappa Sigma. His newly dubbed crush is sitting right in his lap, a hard drink of something swaying in his unreliable fingers, as they’re at the table trying to keep something down besides liquor.

It isn’t going too hot.

More than half surrounding the stupidly large table are drunk out of their minds, and the other half are swimming in varying states of less severe drunkenness, but not completely lucid all the same. Youngjae is one of the few who are still upright, and he’s not gung ho on the thought of having to carry Yugyeom across campus not a second, or third, but fourth time. He’s a sloppy drunk and bad drinker, barely able to hold his fluids after about three cups of something.

“Hyung, bathroom.” Yugyeom paws at Youngjae’s chest with a pout, wrinkling his dumb, new shirt purchased at (where else, honestly?) Club Z. “I have to peeeeeeee.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Youngjae grumbles miserably, helping Yugyeom to his feet, and pulling the boy over to the stairs. As they’re going up Youngjae thinks that his “wonderful induction night” can’t get suckier; then he and Yugyeom reach the first landing, padding mutely over the hardwood as they turn and commit to climbing the rest to get to the top, and Youngjae hears a gross noise upon reaching the second floor.

It’s dark, loopy, a little hot, and Youngjae can still outline Jaebum’s body pressed up against someone else’s at the beginning of the corridor, just before a long stretch of darkness absorbs anything remotely tangible into an indecipherable blob of mystery.

Youngjae aches that much more because it’s a guy he’s got his hands all over in the sticky shadows, meaning Jaebum is bi, swings both ways, and he probably would never even want to take a whack in Youngjae’s direction.

What makes it all worse is Yugyeom starts whining again, reminding Youngjae that has a new responsibility to deal with, cute sweet Yugyeom who Youngjae is almost sure likes him back. He helps the boy, finally, to the bathroom, switching the light on and pulling the toilet seat up so he can relieve himself.

Youngjae looks on with a mixture of fondness and guilt as he takes out his phone from his jeans pocket, looking away briefly to check the message from Jackson left hours ago.

i know ur butt hurt from the lecture, but jaebum’s gonna be at ur tea party later, sooooo ;););) use protection -wang jackass, 5:34pm

Youngjae sends a quick text back, a digital middle finger, before he’s focusing on Yugyeom again, watching glassily as he fumbles for soap to wash his hands and zoning out simultaneously, thinking back to the lecture in question from earlier.

Youngjae had come into his Music Theory hall with a little smile on his face from serial texting Yugyeom. It had been two weeks since the sleepover incident and they were really hitting it off. Yugyeom, Youngjae’s polisci angel, is also into reading for pleasure, so they were texting about a book they had both read just that summer, crying over the fact that the author isn’t going to release a sequel until the following Spring like a couple of nerds.

He had nearly tripped over someone from having his nose stuck in his screen. That someone turned out to be Jaebum sitting like an Adonis statue and outshining everything in Youngjae’s view. He cursed silently under his breath and scurried past the man, pretending not to hear his pleasant greeting in favor of crowding his body into a ditch and suffocating on his own damn inadequacy.

Instead he just fled a few rows down and drowned in his own awkward sorrow. It had been his own idiocy that forced him to retell all of this to Jackson, because what had Youngjae imagined him doing different from what he usually does? Which is insert new names and post anything remotely amusing that happens in his sorry little life to SNS.

Youngjae shouldn’t have been surprised to see the trials of Jaebin in his twitter feed later, along with a comment by Jaebum, ‘cute’, to which Jackson replied with ‘very’.

So Youngjae isn’t talking to Jackson right now. He couldn’t even if he wanted to because he’s too busy holding onto Yugyeom and ushering him back downstairs, past where Jaebum and some other dude were just sucking face among other things.

                                            *     *     *     *      *    

It’s at another party that shit finally hits the fan. Youngjae is on the couch with Yugyeom on his lap. He has a hard on and the younger’s weight on top of it feels good, really good. He’s doing this twisting thing that makes it feel even better. Summer air, the bass of the music, and his boyfriend’s sweet lips are all sensations that vibrate across his warm, damp skin. He would say it were a perfect night, if only Jaebum weren’t in his head kicking up a disgusting fuss.

He’s trying to give Yugyeom all of his attention, as the boy is licking into his mouth as eager as a puppy, hands playing with the little hairs on the back of Youngjae’s neck, gentle yet urgent. It shouldn’t be hard to do. Yugyeom has his long, supermodel legs swung over Youngjae’s lap, knees weighed into the couch on both sides of him, and his bum is skipping on top of Youngjae’s clothed erection, torsos brushing. It shouldn’t be hard at all to dwell solely on his sweet boyfriend’s playful hands, his busy hips, and intoxicating scent all spawned from some unfathomable source out to end his very existence.

Yugyeom is stunning, and he wants Youngjae, possibly even more than the older wants him if his breathy moans and insistent whines hold any bearing. So the fact that he’s sitting here, hot boyfriend grinding on his lap, thinking about Jaebum, has him reorganizing his priorities. Youngjae has no time to clear his mind though, because Yugyeom must sense it as his hips stop rolling and he stares down at Youngjae with a little frown that the older wishes he could just kiss away.

“It is about Jaebum?”

Youngjae blanches.

“Y-you know Jaebum?” From where? How?

“Not personally.” Yugyeom sighs. “But I hear Jackson-hyung talking about him and you get...weird. Like, your mind freezes and I could never figure out why. And, believe me, I’m not being conceited here. Just speculative. But I’m on your lap, damn near dry humping you, and nothing. Your little man downstairs has been limp for the past ten minutes. Is it because I’m not attractive enough or-”

“No, not at all.” Youngjae reaches up to cradle Yugyeom’s face and bring him down for a kiss. His lips are soft and warm and sweet, but even when he’s connected to him, his polisci angel, his mind is on Jaebum. Yugyeom pulls away with this sad look in his pretty eyes and Youngjae is on the brink of smashing something because those sad, pretty eyes are his fault.

“Do you like him...more than me?” Yugyeom asks, looking as if he’s choking up a bit.

Youngjae hates himself because he doesn’t even have the balls to say ‘yes’.  

“Look, hyung. I like you. A lot. But I can see you need to do some thinking right now. So I’m gonna go.” Yugyeom presses a kiss to Youngjae’s forehead just as empty as his lap when Yugyeom slinks away.

Everything hurts.

This party is stupid.

Jaebum is stupid.

The only thing Youngjae can think to do to clear his head is get so drunk he can’t remember his own name.

He gets very close. He only remembers that Jaebum is stupid and that his dorm is on the east side of campus. He’s stumbling through the dark, eyes only half-way open as the world flies by in clips of sensations. Loud noises. Questionable smells.

Somehow he ends up in a warm building. On an elevator. Tripping through the hall. Banging on a door.

“Youngjae?” It’s truly sick that Youngjae recognizes that voice even when he’s supposed to be blown off his ass tore down.

“Asshole.” Hiccup. “Y-you, you--fuck you.”

“Youngjae, you okay?”

“What do you think, asshole?” Hiccup. “Just...just, I like you dammit!”

“You what?”

That’s when he passes out.

                                           *     *     *     *      *  

Food doesn’t taste the way it should. Youngjae’s stomach is gurgling and his head is making very loud music without his permission, against his will really.

“Good job, dummy.” Jackson scoops more soup into his bowel and pats his head placatingly, shit-eating grin full force. “Jaebum knows you’re hard for him and he still wants to take you out. You know, you definitely come off as the prunish, incompetent type. But you’ve got skills after all.”

“I’m not hard for him.” Youngjae fusses uselessly as he spoons the soup into his mouth and tries to keep it down.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, bud.”

                                         *     *     *     *      *  

Youngjae is sitting in class a few days later when his phone starts ringing against his pants. After a few moments of awkward fumbling and thanking the heavens that he remembered to change his ringtone back from whatever crap Jackson put on it, he manages to turn it off without looking at the screen.

By the time he gets out of class, he’s completely forgotten about the call. In fact, Youngjae also forgets to turn his phone back on. Which is why he’s sitting in a baggy t-shirt he’s had since middle school, paired with athletic shorts that he exclusively uses for lounging and his one-time-a-year trips to the gym. He flips through the channels, pausing on a predictable drama as the stereotypical rich-guy takes the stereotypical poor-girl to buy some tacky name brand clothes for the first time in her life. As if the girl didn’t already own an iPhone 7 Plus.

What is completely not predictable is the knock on the door that comes right as the girl trips and falls dramatically into the main lead’s arms.

Youngjae scratches his head. Did I order pizza?

When he opens the door, instead of the rich and savory smell of Italian pie, Youngjae is greeted with a crisp and cool cologne. When he looks up to look Jaebum in the eyes, the first thing that comes to mind is, “Are you wearing a turtleneck under a dress shirt?”

Jaebum just laughs. “I said I’d pick you up at seven. I’m fifteen minutes late. Sorry.”

“That date thing is tonight?”

“Yes, the date thing is tonight. Forget?” Jaebum puts on a thinking face. “Weird. Just a few days ago someone was banging on my door like the sky was falling, confessing their undying love-”

“I said, and I quote, ‘I like you dammit’. Hardly anything undying about that.” Youngjae hopes the sass can distract Jaebum from his inner-chaos. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Jaebum stops him with a hand on his chest. Youngjae isn’t screaming. The tea’s done. “You wanna change into something less, sporty?”

“Where are we going?”

“Secret.” Jaebum sing-songs. “Just get dolled up and meet me at my car, okay? I’m parked right out front.”

“Okay…?”

Youngjae slides in Jaebum’s car about twenty minutes later. He spent ten minutes having an existential crisis and the other ten minutes running around forsaking everything in his wardrobe before deciding on jeans so black they can almost pass for slacks and a white button down that he tucked in them.

Jaebums glances over for a second. He hesitates a moment, and then reaches over to grab Youngjae’s hand. “You look really handsome tonight.”

Youngjae frowns. While he appreciates the sweetness, he can’t help but feel a little bit overwhelmed. Youngjae tries to sneakily untangle their fingers so he can wipe off the sweat that is slowly gathering in his palms. When he goes back to rap Jaebum’s hand once more, however, it’s already back on the steering wheel. Youngjae sits, staring at the hand for a moment before realizing Jaebum is talking again.

“—just opened but I heard it’s really popular. I thought you would like it. There’s a live band and everything. Your clothes are fine too.”

“Oh really?” Youngjae perks up again at hearing there’s a live band. He imagines a hipster club, the perfect opportunity to see Jaebum at his sexiest: when dancing. As his mood lightens, he gets chattier, going into a story about Jackson’s latest antics.

“We’re here.”

Shit.

Youngjae was expecting fancy, but he wasn’t expecting this. It looks like somewhere people who sneeze money frequent. The kind of place with little personal packs of fruity smelling soap in the bathroom that they’re not even afraid of people stealing because who would be caught pilfering little soaps when they have hand-made, hypoallergenic imports from Milan? Jaebum is smiling again when the maitre'd leads them to their booth and Youngjae’s breath is no longer with him. He just listens as Jaebum tells him the name of the restaurant, something European, and Youngjae can only nod and smile. Looking down at his menu, he sees that it’s all written in French, maybe, or Italian, except the prices. Youngjae actually gasps out loud when he takes in the digits, which fails to go unnoticed by Jaebum.

“Are you okay?” Jaebum asks sweetly. He smiles and reaches his hand across the table. When Youngjae just meekly nods, Jaebum asks, “Are you ready to order?” He then calls for the waiter in a voice that would have Youngjae drooling, if he wasn’t still trying to figure out what everything meant.

“Are you ready to order, sir?” the waiter asks. Youngjae can’t help but feel relieved that the waiter speaks Korean, at least.

“Yeah, um, I’ll just have… This,” he decides, pointing at one of the menu options. Hopefully it doesn’t taste like shit.

Jaebum orders, the waiter goes, and they sit in silence. Youngjae’s not sure if Jaebum thinks it’s an awkward silence or if he’s enjoying the music, and the tapping of his fingers gives no hint to either. Youngjae perks up in excitement to see their waiter returning with their food. And then he realizes that this date is really and truly just meant to be a prolonged hell as he takes in the cucumbers lining a plate of greens.

As the dinner wraps up with both Jaebum and Youngjae claiming to be too full for desserts (although they both also still have piles of food left on their plates) Youngjae reaches into his pockets to be left with emptiness. Or really, nothingness, because he doesn’t actually have pockets. Or his wallet. Or his phone to pay with apple pay. Or anything at all. Youngjae panics and looks up to explain himself to Jaebum, only to find that Jaebum has already paid for their meal.

Walking back to the car, Youngjae speaks up, “That was a pretty nice first date, I guess.” He can’t help but cringe at how insincere that sounds.

“You know what. I have to confess something,” Jaebum declares, turning to him.

“What?” Youngjae can’t help but think, This is it, this is the moment. He’s going to say he never wants to see me again.

“I actually, really, really don’t like—“

Oh shit here it comes.

“—Western food. And I don’t know if maybe you don’t like it either because you didn’t eat much of your food either, I noticed, but the restaurant had nice reviews, and I wanted to make this really special, and you didn’t respond to my texts so I wasn’t sure in the first place if you would like it or not but I thought it would be okay because Jackson recommended it, but then again Jackson trained in France for a year so he probably likes french food? But I just—“

Youngjae has to stop him there. “Wait. I just. I don’t like cucumbers, but I can’t read French.”

“Oh.”

“And I actually turned my phone off today so I didn’t get any of your texts, which is why I’m dressed like trash, as always, and you look so sleek and good and everybody thinks that you’re too good for me because you are literally in a turtleneck and dress shirt blazer leather pants suede shoes combo thingy and I’m not. Maybe I should have let you dress me again, ha ha.” Youngjae finishes with an awkward laugh.

“Oh.”

“I also don’t have pockets. Or anything. Except some lettuce stuck in my teeth that I can’t get out.”

“Oh.”

“So, yeah.”

“Oh.”

Youngjae isn’t sure how to proceed anymore. I mean, he thinks, I literally just told him I had lettuce stuck in my teeth. There’s an awkward pause, and then Youngjae says, “So do you want some bingsu?”

“Yes. A classic Korean dessert.”

Youngjae returns home that night with a smile on his face. He can’t help but blush as he thinks about Jaebum. About how cute Jaebum looked when he got a brain freeze from eating too fast. How cute he looked when he lost at the arcade Dance Dance Revolution game to a seven year old and pouted about it. How cute he looked when he had pepper paste smudged on his cheek when they got spicy rice cake for dinner, round two. And especially how cute he looked when he ran away after placing a peck on Youngjae’s cheek at his front door.

Jaebum’s really not chic and sexy at all, Youngjae decides. He’s just a ball of fluff.

As Youngjae lays on his side to get comfortable for bed, he fishes out his phone to send a message to Jackson.

you’re not a complete ding dong. the date was nice. -you, 11.03pm

                                           *     *     *     *      *  

“Jackson. When I said you could plan our date, I meant that you could pick a nice restaurant or movie for us to go to, heck, even an amusement park. Why is there a script?” Youngjae doesn’t know what to do with the packet of paper he holds in his hands. He looks over at the similar copy that Jaebum has (but with different highlights) and decides the only thing left to do is go out and plant some trees. Maybe they can plant two trees together in the name of love. The sound of Jackson slapping his Director’s Copy of the script onto the table whips him out of his daydreams.

“It’s not a script!” Jackson protests. “It’s just suggestions for the theme?”

Jaebum has already started flipping through the book, questioning, “Did you get this from the morning drama that Youngjae likes to watch? The lines are literally the same.”

“What? No! Don’t be ridiculous!” Jackson protests, flapping his hands back and forth, as if that will help dispel any claims of plagiarism.

“This is literally a ‘the rich guy takes the poor girl shopping for better clothes scene,’” Youngjae deadpans. “This is so cliche. I can’t believe I’m the poor girl with bad taste in clothes.”

Jaebum pauses from where he’s flipping through the book. “But you do have bad taste in clothes.”

Youngjae rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in exasperation, “That’s it, we’re breaking up.”

“NO!” Jackson gasps. “Not after all the hard work I put into getting you two together! If anything, at the very least go on this date, and then I made a reservation for this really nice restaurant where you can have a steak dinner, and then you guys can break up as Youngjae throws a cup of water in Jaebum’s face, and it’ll be perfect!”

“What the hell is wrong with you, Jackson,” Jaebum groans. “Let’s just get this over with.” He reaches out and grabs Youngjae’s hand, asking for a final time, “You ready?”

Youngjae laughs and follows along as Jaebum tugs him out the door.

Jackson trails behind them, oohing and ahhing at their cuteness. “And! If I’m cliche, then you cute little assholes are cliche, too! Don’t think I’m gonna forget how you two first met! I asked the manager for a copy of the CCTV tapes!”

“You know,” Jaebum whispers to Youngjae as he looks back at Jackson, trailing along behind them, “I know it’s a little early to be thinking about marriage, but it looks like we’ve already adopted a kid.”

Youngjae laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Maybe it’s because this second is the happiest moment of his life.

[7fics]

Ot7 medival time period au with jinyoung as a prince and the rest of got7 as his advisors and friends please!

Warnings: None

Authors: TJ, Chewy, Mia, Phi, Jessica, Keannah, Qi, Miranda, Jenni, Jo, Sally, Angel

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: As you can all tell by the long list of authors, we decided to do a special collab for this prompt! We put a lot of serious effort into this, so we hope you enjoy~ ^^

Edit: Happy April Fools’ 2017! This is a fake prompt and joke fic that we wrote together this year! Each author contributed around 100 words, and we were only allowed to see the last sentence of what was written before our turn. This was the result, we hope you enjoyed the crack-y fun~

~~

“Have you heard? They’re holding a competition with all the neighboring kingdoms to see who can win our Prince’s hand in marriage!” Youngjae was slightly out of breath as he came to a halt in front of the stables, eyes shining with excitement at the news.

The other stablehand, however, didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm, not even bothering to look up from the pile of dung he was currently shoveling.

“They’re trying to find a suitor for Prince Jinyoung?” Yugyeom wrinkled his nose, clearly unimpressed, “Would anyone even want to marry him?”

“Why would anybody not want to marry him?” Youngjae sighed. “He’s so pretty, and sweet, yet also a little bit sharp. Like a perfect tart!”

“Ugh,” Yugyeom groaned, snatching away the small engraving of Jinyoung’s profile Youngjae was drooling over. “All you have to do I bake him some sweets when he asks. I have to clean his room.”

“It would be an honor to clean the Prince’s room!” Youngjae pouted. “I bet it smells like roses.”

“It’s a pigsty,” Yugyeom deadpanned.

Youngjae gasped, “Do not slander the great Prince Jinyoung’s name!”

“I’m sorry, what about my name?” a new voice inquired.

It was the same voice that Jinyoung heard in his nightmares. The ones where he’s pantless in front of his high school crush, slave to a village of unicorns, or some other acid dream he had after binging anime while eating ice cream straight from the bucket and fell asleep on the couch.

But Jinyoung wasn’t dreaming. He’s standing in the kitchen, smuggling ramen from the cabinets, stuffing them in his shirt in preparation of his all-night cram session for Psych. And the new voice wasn’t a dream-like apparition, but a breathing body waiting for some type of explanation.

When Jinyoung turned back to greet the new voice with a sinking sense of something like regret and guilt morphed together, he dropped all his ramen and gaped because he was not expecting that.

He’s not quite sure if anything could’ve prepared him for whatever strange thing was lurching in front of him, his heart hesitating just as his bowl shattered to the ground. Jinyoung vaguely registered something hot against his feet, barely protected by thin socks covered in faded thread and dust, and he blinked. His eyes were frozen wide, unblinkingly caught between gears as his mind worked desperately to apply logic to the situation. It was impossible, he knew that, but he’d always been a skeptic. Panic started to filter into Jinyoung’s thoughts as the figure stalked forward, feet scraping against the ground.

He quickly turned to run, the sound of his steps echoing against the pavement. It only took him a moment to realize that whoever was following him had begun to chase after him as well. He willed himself to run faster, desperately trying to ignore the burning in his lungs and the way his legs began to protest with each step, but it was so hard. His body began to slow down, despite his internal pleading, and soon he was collapsing onto the pavement with a pained gasp, tears already springing to his eyes.

“Please,” he whispered as they approach, feeling the eerie presence of the figure staring down at him.

“Please what, pretty boy?” The figure was still hazy in his sight, still none but a silhouette as he swallowed down the nervous pool of saliva in his mouth.

The footsteps came to an abrupt halt, leaning over him dauntingly as he tried to find the words lodged in his throat. The figure tilted its head curiously, shuffling was heard, and it’s voice was a little closer this time.

“What is it you wanted to tell me, hm?”

His body trembled and quivered out of fear, still wracking his brain to find his pleading words in hopes of getting his way.

Defeat weighed his shoulders down as he came to realise his impending doom. Slowly, slowly the arm of the the Masked Singer™ lowered itself down onto his shoulder. There would be no turning back now.

“I am your father” the distorted voice intoned.

Shock filled his body. Trembling, he made his demand.

“Prove it. Sing to me the songs of my people.”

Jackson took a deep breath and paused for a moment to gather himself, heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing in his veins. He opened his mouth, hand resting over his frantic heart, and to the tune of Pompeii by Bastille, sang, “Paul-Paul Blart: Mall Cop, Paul-Paul Blart: Mall Cop–”

A single tear rolled down Jaebum’s cheek as he watched, and Jackson blinked away his own tears. Then, very suddenly, Jaebum fell to his knees in front of the two-storey tall Paul Blart: Mall Cop poster and began to cry, “Paul-Paul Blart: Mall Cop, Paul-Paul Blart: Mall Cop, Paul-Paul Blart: Mall Cop–”

“Oh, praise thee,” Jackson shrieked, “praise thee Paul Blart: Mall Cop!”

He fell to his knees.

“What are you doing.” It was phrased as a question but the words fell from his mouth as a statement. Jinyoung had heard a shrill, panicked scream as he passed by the room, and immediately regretted following his curiosity to find a writhing Jackson on the floor, panting and shrieking.

Jackson did not answer; instead, he proceeded to scream different variations of “praise” as Jinyoung slowly backed away. His Plan A was originally to run away as far as he could, rename himself “Junior,” and live his life peacefully in a small country town where no obnoxious young adults by the name of Jackson could ever disturb him again. His goal, however, was shattered as he backed away straight into Jaebum’s sturdy chest and questioning, narrowed eyes.

“What the hell is going on in there?” Jaebum demanded, startled by the fear reflected in Jinyoung’s eyes.

“Hyung!” his voice was warbled, strained and pitchy and his knuckles were gripped white from where he was clenching his hands. Jaebum tried to stitch the whole scene together, eyes frantically darting around every incriminating corner of the room.

Jinyoung was by the open window, its curtains billowing out. The toppled lamp stand on the other side of the room, Coco petrified and shivering behind it. The amassment of dirty laundry across the furniture (not that that was particularly new). Yugyeom curled into a ball in the centre of the room. A figure covered by a blanket, unmoving.

Jaebum’s eyes bulged open, “Why is there a dead person in our dorm!??” The stress he felt, it was consuming at this point.

Despite the completely, very goddamn serious moment, Jinyoung scoffed and rolled his eyes. “That’s not a dead body, hyung. That’s just Jackson. he’s taking a nap.

“A nap?” He questioned. The doe-eyed youth only threw him a halfhearted nod. Jaebum squinted his eyes narrowly at Jackson’s figure before looking up suspiciously back at Jinyoung. He ultimately decided to let the questions in his mind stay unvoiced, opting for a small shrug and smile. He’d known the younger male for too long to question his antics, especially since he’d witnessed the wrath of Jinyoung for all this time. Jaebum reckoned that obliviousness was the true key to a peaceful and long life. “I don’t even want to know,” he let out.

“What are you talking about,” Jinyoung questioned. “Are you trying to evade this conversation?”

Jaebum laughed nervously, gaze still looking back and forth from the boy in front of him to the boy lying splayed out on the ground. “Just pretend I was never here today.” He blurted out, “We can save this conversation for another day.”

He threw the younger male what he hoped was a convincingly amicable grin before hurrying his steps towards the door. He should’ve known that he didn’t drop toothpaste on his shirt this morning for nothing—t’was all a warning from the deities above. And so Jaebum stumbled his way out the door, leaving behind Jinyoung to dwell on unfinished conversations.

Shouldering past him was Mark, mildly stunned and clearly smashed, holding half a plate of h’ordeuvres and covered in confetti. “What’d I miss,” he managed to enunciate impressively, before passing out into the umbrella stand. Politely, Jinyoung covered him with a teacloth, before continuing to brood in considerable peace.

[7fics]

jackson as a fencer au! pairings are up to the author!

Warnings: None

Authors: TJ, Chewy, Mia, Phi, Jessica, Keannah, Qi, Miranda, Jenni, Jo, Sally, Angel

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: As you can all tell by the long list of authors, we decided to do a special collab for this prompt! We put a lot of serious effort into this, so we hope you enjoy~ ^^

Edit: Happy April Fools’ 2017! This is a fake prompt and joke fic that we wrote together this year! Each author contributed around 100 words, and we were only allowed to see what the author directly before us wrote. This was the result, we hope you enjoyed the crack-y fun~

~~

Jinyoung haughtily surveyed the living room from his sprawled out position on the couch, face wrinkled into an expression of distaste at Bambam and Jackson rolling around on the floor, engaged in an all-too intense wrestling battle. Jackson had a vice-like hold around Bambam’s middle with his strong thighs, but the younger wasn’t letting up yet, screeching loudly as he wrapped his arms around Jackson’s neck, grappling him valiantly.

“I know it was you! Don’t try to deny anything!” Jackson shouted.

“I swear! Let go of me or you’ll really regret it this time,” Bambam grunted. “It’s not as if anything you own would even fit me anyway,” he mocked.

“You bastard, you did not just say that to my face.”

“Oh yes I did,” Bambam sing-songed.

At that, Jackson had had enough, and charged at Bambam with the full force of his body. As they flew out the window, Jinyoung could be heard in the background, lamenting, “We just had the new glass put in last week!”

As if Jackson cared about the new glass put in when he was sitting on top of Bambam’s chest, all his weight balancing on the younger’s ribs in a way that had to be painfully uncomfortable. Luckily they had landed on the fire escape, or there would’ve been hell to pay.  

“Tell the truth,” Jackson demanded roughly.

“I didn’t do it!” Bambam insisted angrily.

“I’ll make Coco pee in your slippers,” Jackson warned.

Bambam stilled at this threat, face falling immediately.

“No, not the Gucci! What kind of sick world do we live in when a dude can’t even have some decent Gucci? ” he wailed miserably, sucking in his bottom lip as he glared up at Jackson. “Fine, jerkoff. I wore your leather kitten suit and I ripped it. You would have been way too big in it anyway.”

“It wasn’t for me,” Jackson admitted, uncharacteristically chagrin.

Bambam rolled his eyes, ignoring the way the older boy glared at him.

“Sure it wasn’t.” He pushed at Jackson’s shoulders, relaxing a little when Jackson finally moved off of him. After a few moments of unusual quiet, Bambam sighed, watching as Jackson stared over the edge. “Fine, who was it for?”

“None of your business!” Jackson snapped quickly, and Bambam had to fight the urge to laugh.

“Who else would wear a kitten suit?” Bambam countered, and when Jackson opened up his mouth to respond, Bambam held up a hand, “A leather kitten suit?” At that, Jackson went silent.

“Ya’know,” Bambam spoke up after a moment, leaning back onto his palms and crossing his legs at the ankles. He waited until Jackson met his gaze before continuing, “I’m not surprised Jinyoungie is a freak, I mean, the guy reads erotica novels for fun, but you,” he giggled as Jackson shot him a glare, “You always seemed like the vanilla type to me, hyung,” he finished, a teasing grin on his face even as Jackson quickly leaned over and dead legged him.

“It’s not like that, you brat!” Jackson shouted as he plopped back down on the floor, brushing the hair out of his face with a huff.

Bambam groaned, leaning over and smacking Jackson’s arm. That didn’t stop him from snickering at the elder, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “What’s not like what? You being vanilla isn’t like that? So after all this time, my assumption that you weren’t kinky was wrong?”

Jackson glared daggers into Bambam’s profile, hand quickly finding his way to the younger’s slim thigh, giving it a squeeze - nails included. “You mention this to anyone else, you’re dead to me, you hear me?”

“I can’t make any promises, hyung. This is just way too good not to share. I’m sure Jinyoungie hyung wouldn’t mind the word getting around anyway…”

Unfortunately, Jackson wasn’t joking. Right as Bambam had begun to turn away to inform the masses of Jackson’s intimate escapades, Jackson began to morph into a creature of pure menace. Skin turning green and nails lengthening, all trace of Jackson’s amiable demeanour fell away as his true self was revealed in the face of imminent danger.

“You will not tell anyone of what you know!” Jackson thundered. Bambam swore he felt the entire house shake. So in awe of Jackson’s unveiled power was he, he fell to the ground immediately and began to beg for forgiveness for the error of his ways.

Bambam could not raise his eyes, would not raise his eyes, in fear of Jackson’s festering rage. For an excruciating moment all Bambam could hear was the air flushing in and out of his lungs, the muffled clop clop of cloven hooves behind the door. “I won’t tell a soul,” Bambam promised and for a while, Jackson said nothing.

Then, with a suddenness that had Bambam’s whole body jerking, Jackson spoke, “Ogres are like onions. We have many layers.”

Bambam raised his head to look at Jackson who had visibly softened. “You have seen too many of my layers. Tell no one.”

Bambam stared deeply into his eyes, and he spoke with an unusual seriousness to his tone. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Jackson was, however, not yet satisfied. He took Bambam’s hands into his own and squeezed them with as much strength as he could muster. “You must swear on it. Swear on Coco’s life.”

Bambam gasped audibly. “How could you say such a thing? Do you not trust me that you would make me swear on the life of a living fluffball?”

Jackson jerked on his arms with an unnecessary harshness. “Promise me!” he begged. “No one must ever know.”

“Fine, I will,” Bambam huffed. “But if you tell anyone I was the one who stole Youngjae’s stuffed bear I’m telling on you,” he leaned in to whisper sinisterly, “to JYP-hyung.”

What feels like the combined power of twelve freezers shivers violently down Jackson’s spine.

“You wouldn’t.”

The sudden stillness in Bambam’s eyes, that emotionless, borderline-cruel blanket that covers his face speaks on the contrary. Betrayal is gripping. To think all those cumulative years of Jackson thinning his wallet out, meal after meal after meal - spontaneous ramen, the priciest meat, window shopping that never stayed window shopping and that already boyish voice reaching a squeaky hyung, please - would account for this kind of ridiculous threat.

Jackson feels his over-dyed brittle hair thinning.

“If I swear on Coco’s life, and if I fail still, don’t you think this is still really unfair to Youngjae? A dog and a teddy bear, how much can a grown man take!?”

“A swear is a swear hyung. PD-nim,” Bam shakes his head nervously, “there’s more to that man than meets the eye.”

A solemn, rigid nod. Jackson fights another shiver. “That’s why he wears sunglasses, Bam.”

And it’s with a swing of a door and a small breeze before Bam Bam leaves the room and Jackson to wallow in his thoughts. The traitorous image of the younger male’s backside burning into his mind. Jackson takes a small sigh, tugging at the ends of his—coarse, overdyed—hair. It’s then and there that Jackson considers the repercussions of failure and just how much compensation would be. Would it be the monetary equivalent of a pet dog? Or would it be some unmeasurable emotional equivalent that he’d spend this life and the next paying back. He considers asking Mark just how much getting Coco was, or maybe he could ask Jaebum what the best consolation for letting go of a dear pet be.

Everything seemingly falters along the slippery slope, “what-if’s” avalanching into a massive figure ready to roll across his aching (aging) body and leave him buried in the harsh, cold snow. “It’s okay,” Jackson tells himself, “I just have to not fail.” He reassures as he steps upon empty ground, gravity turning upside down as he tries not to succumb to his wavering vision. He places a hand on his chest, as if he could ease the restlessness of his heart. He wonders how much karma of all his past lives he needs to accumulate just enough luck for success. Or whether or not God would borrow him some to pay back in the afterlife.

It’s foolproof. Unfortunately, for Bambam at least, Jackson is the personification of stupidity, and knows that well. He is nothing if not self-aware (and health conscious).

He turns up the next day at the same shabby house with a crate under his arm, stubbing his toe on a step as he makes his way up. The sky is as putrid grey as his soul and the sun’s rays like feeble, unmotivated feelers poking through pathetically- it’s not a good day for an apology, but it’s now or never to change the course of Jackson’s shitty fate.

The door opens, and Bambam looks surprised and slightly discouraged- there’s also a Froot Loop on the front of his shirt that Jackson neglects to point out.

“Hey,” the older man says, fumbling with the crate in his hands, and Bambam peers over, curious for a moment. Then Jackson pulls out the ugliest stuffed dog known to mankind and thrusts it across. “Let’s start over?”

[7fics]

Youngjae fic where he makes a big deal about his coming out. Everyone is scared because it's "super deep" and "life changing" and everyone thinks he's going to die but he's just dramatic af??? And then everyone's like "well yeah, we knew" and YJ is mad bc no one really cared/it was obvious and they ruined his big moment.

Warnings: drama

Word Count: 1k

Author: Chewy

an: this is a hot mess thank you for this absolutely hilarious prompt. jackson pov, hope you don’t mind!

The air is thick with tension. Jackson imagines he could cut it, like a sword through butter. (His inner subconscious tells him that the saying is actually a hot knife through butter, and the saying isn’t actually even supposed to be used in the way Jackson is currently trying to use it. His inner subconscious also sounds like Jinyoung after he’s read too many books and had a couple of drinks, so he shoos it away with a slap to his face)

Smack.

Everybody turns to look at Jackson. Even the tiniest noise will warrant great attention at this moment. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

“Don’t think.” This time, it’s not his inner subconscious Kermit the frog meme, but actual real life serious Jinyoung. Real Jinyoung actually has consequences, unlike inner Jinyoung, so Jackson has to pay attention.

“Sorry. Won’t do it again.”

All heads swivel back to the main event. Youngjae.

Sweet, sweet, innocent Youngjae, who has been the light of all of Got7’s lives since the day JYP added him to their team seven months before debut, is sitting on the couch. The main couch, to be precise. The one that either their managers or JB in leader mode sits on to give serious announcements on serious matters. This is a big deal.

—

It all came to a head that morning, when Youngjae gravely said the words, “I need to tell you guys something.”

In reality, though, it had been brewing for much longer than that. All of the members had been worried because in the past few weeks, Youngjae had been quieter than usual. He’d been “researching” on the internet, talking to himself in his sleep, and just the other day, he forgot to play with Coco. This was truly a serious tragedy. There was no other answer.

When the rest of the members tried to inquire more, Youngjae gave only vague responses.

“What’s going on?” JB demanded, in complete leader mode.

“I can’t tell you right now, but it’s super deep.”

“Are you okay?” Mark asked. Even Mark was actively worried, and not just passively. This just went to show how big of a deal this issue was.

“We’ll talk about it as a group later, but it’s absolutely life changing.” With that, Youngjae left the room.

“Well,” Bambam spoke up. “He said it was life changing, not life ending, so we know it’s not cancer. Wanna make bets? I have ten dollars in cash.”

“BAMBAM!” Literally every single member of Got7, excluding Bambam and Youngjae, yells.

“I guess that’s a no then.”

—

Back at the present moment, Jackson sits uncomfortably squished on the couch between Yugyeom and Jaebum. He looks down to the end where Youngjae sits solemnly.

Despite Bambam’s reassurances, he can’t help but wonder. What if it really is cancer? Or worse? What if… What if… Jackson is having a hard time thinking of anything worse because all the bad plots in the k-dramas that he watches involve cancer. As Jackson’s mind starts to conjure up images of hospitals, his hands start picking more and more aggressively at the rips in his jeans. Jaebum leans over and grabs his hand, holding it still.

“So, Youngjae? Do you want to tell us what this is all about?” Jaebum asks.

Youngjae nods, opens his mouth, closes it, and gulps. Next to him, Jinyoung hands him a bottle of water. Youngjae drinks, opens his mouth, and says, “Thanks, hyung.”

Jackson thinks that at this point, he’s going to explode and die from the anticipation, and that means he won’t be able to bring flowers to Youngjae’s bed as he’s withering away from some undiscovered, incurable illness.

“Just say it!” Mark shouts. Everybody turns and glares. Everybody is both relieved that Mark said what they all wanted to say inside, but everybody is also mad at Mark for shouting at Youngjae. Sweet, sweet, innocent Youngjae, who is loved by all. “Sorry. Please, Youngjae.”

“Okay, sorry hyung.” Youngjae takes a final deep breath, and spits out the words, “I’m super gay.”

“IT’S OKAY YOUNGJAE WE STILL ALL LOVE YOU, AND WE WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER EVEN IF YOU DIE, BUT WE’LL ALSO MAKE SURE TO PAY YOUR MEDICAL BILLS FOR ANY ILLNESS YOU MIGHT HAVE AND I’LL MAKE SURE JINYOUNG DOESN’T WRITE YOUR OBITUARY BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW HE’D PUT IN A SUPER LAME HIPSTER QUOTE, AND ALSO MARK, TOO, BECAUSE HE WOULD WRITE ‘R.I.P.’ AND THAT— wait did you just say you were gay.” Jackson sits back down and opens his eyes. “That is seriously not what I was expecting.”

Jaebum just sighs one of his deep-as-the-Mariana-Trench sighs, and cover’s Jackson’s mouth with his hand. “Youngjae. Did you seriously put us through all of this so that you could tell us you were gay?”

“Well, yeah,” Youngjae says. He’s still looking at Jackson warily.

“Everybody knows you’re gay, Youngjae,” Bambam says. “This is meeting is taking out of my League of Legends playing time. Come on, Yugyeom, leggo!”

“Wait, what?” Youngjae asks, bewildered. “How did you guys already know that I was gay?”

“Because you’re super gay? Jinyoung literally baked a cake last year that said ‘Youngjae is Gay’ because of how gay you were. It had rainbows and unicorns, remember?” Mark says.

“MMmmmpfhhhhfhh,” Jackson agrees, from under Jaebum’s hand.

“What the hell? That’s so not cool! Do you even realize how long I have been planning and researching for this moment? This is ludicrous! Ridiculous! An outrage! And why are you all so automatically accepting, I thought we would have to really fight over this!” Youngjae is panting by the end of his rant. Jaebum has removed his hands from Jackson’s mouth so that he could cover his own ears instead.

“If you’re done ranting, it’s really time for us to get to practice,” Jaebum says.

“Here, baby, how about I bake you another cake?” Jinyoung asks. That, combined with the fact that Youngjae seems to have worn himself out with the shouting, appeases Youngjae enough to agree.

“Well, I’m glad you’re not dying, Youngjae!” Jackson speaks up.

“Thanks, Jackson hyung. Me too.”

[7fics]

Jackbum: Jackson goes to the woods to bury a body but Jaebum is already there burying a body.

Warnings: Character Death, Murder, Other stuff that comes with burying dead bodies in woodsdisclaimer: I do not promote murder, I do not hate any of the characters that die in this fic, it was just for the sake of this fic

Word Count: Just under 2k

Author: Chewt, the writer formerly known as Chewy (I changed my name because author Jenni called me Chewt on accident)

an: this is, honestly, crack with a dash of murder. characters may come off as slightly ooc because i’m making them into murderers and they are not (i don’t think) murderers irl.

Reccomended music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HORkT4a2MhQ

“Duuuuuuude. You’re like a marshmallow. ROASTED!” Jackson pats himself on the back for a very good comeback.

“You didn’t roast me,” Mark reminds him.

“Oh, that’s awkward. I could have sworn we just had a conversation,” Jackson pouts.

“No, I haven’t talked since our first hit a while back, buddy. We’re high, not chatty,” Mark corrects, surprisingly sincere given the subject matter at hand.

“Well fuck you, I’m higher than you!”

“No, I am!”

“Prove it!”

“I can jump off this fucking cliff!”

“Why are we getting high on the side of a fucking cliff?”

“I don’t know but I’m gonna jump!”

“Yeahhhhhhhhhh! Do it! OH MY GOD YOU ACTUALLY— Wait… Mark?” Jackson calls out into the deep recesses of the void.

There’s no response but the echoes of a loud, resounding crunch. Jackson isn’t sure whether to cry in fear of what might have happened to Mark, or celebrate because he actually remembers the word “onomatopoeia” from 8th grade. He decides to do both as he scrambles down the cliff.

Really, it isn’t very high of a fall, and Jackson is sure Mark will be fine. What Jackson hadn’t bet on is Mark’s thin skull taking on the brunt of his thick-headedness. Yes. Mark didn’t jump off the cliff. He dived, like a swan, but without the grace and water to greet him at the bottom.

“What is the point of a brick head if it crumbles on impact?” Jackson laments.

Jackson really isn’t sure what the given procedure is in this scenario, but one thought does resonate. Is he an accomplice to Mark’s murder if Mark murdered himself and technically Jackson egged him on? And, if police come to investigate, surely they’ll arrest him for possession of marijuana. The situation is only looking worse.

Jackson digs around in his pocket for his phone and also inspiration. The fates must surely be looking out for him, because inspiration greets him in the form of tiny beige speckles.

“Mark always wanted to be buried as one of those tree things. I’ll do just that,” Jackson narrates, as now Mark isn’t around to tell him that his life isn’t a movie.

Jackson shakes the seeds back into his pocket, never mind that they’re tomato seeds and not acorns for oak trees. Mark looked best as a redhead anyway. Then, he gets to work tugging, dragging, and lugging. (He rhymes so well because he listens to Jay Z all the time.)

Jackson doesn’t get too far into the woods before he’s panting heavily. “I’m a fencer! We’re based on speed, not stamina!” he cries into the darkness of the forest. “X marks the spot— oh that was totally a pun, get it?” he mutters to himself, slowly spiraling into what must be shock, or maybe he’s still just high. Regardless, there is a task at hand, and Jackson is determined to finish before sunlight. It would be really awkward if somebody caught him digging a grave for a dead body in the middle of the woods.

—

And that’s why Jackson stumbles across another person not even a minute later. Ridiculous, really. Why must the fates play him in this way, always?

“This isn’t what it looks like! I promise!” He lets Mark thud back down on the ground so he can hold up his hands in the air for good measure.

“It looks like you killed someone, and now you’re trying to cover up the mess,” the other man deadpans. “Even if that isn’t it, you’re still lugging a dead body through the woods and I’d like to see you explain your way out of that one.” The man flicks his hair out of his eyes and at that moment streaks a splash of red across his forehead. Even with Jackson’s nearsightedness, he can make out the bright, foreboding color contrasting against the man’s pale skin in the moonlight.

Jackson contemplates the probability of vampires for a second before his eyes catch sight of the lump by the stranger’s feet. For a moment, Jackson thinks its a leopard, but then realizes that a) leopards don’t live here (he thinks) and b) it’s actually a faux cheetah fur coat that looks pretty shredded (in the literal sense; he can distinguish no muscle mass appearing from beneath the fur. The creepy stranger, on the other hand, is rocking the no-sleeves.)

“Wha-what about you?” Jackson stutters out. He tries to keep his cool in front of a fellow possible kind of murderer, but it’s hard being a newbie to the game of burying a body sketchily in the woods. “Is that a body?” (The question is obviously directed at the cheetah fur pile, because murderer or no, that is definitely a bod and a hot one at that. Now is not the time to think such things though, so Jackson gives himself a small slap on the face for good measure.)

“Yes.”

Taken aback by the blunt answer, Jackson coherently responds, “Oh. What? Illegal!”

“And you aren’t?”

“I’m not an illegal alien that’s what I’m not. No way.” (Nobody has to know that once Jackson went to America for a tournament with a visitation visa instead of a work visa.)

“Ok, but are you or are you not dragging a dead body through the woods and trying to bury secretly without the knowledge of the police?” the man presses.

“Well, if you put it that way… I didn’t kill him though! And still, so are you!”

“Fine, truce, we’re both dragging bodies through the woods and if the police find out, we’re going to get in trouble. What did you even do anyway?”

“Why would I tell you that? You’re a complete stranger! And you could be an ax murderer for all I know! In fact, all evidence points to the fact that you most definitely are at least a murderer, if not an ax murderer!” Jackson is in hysterics as this point. He’s still not really sure what even is going on anymore, just that he needs to move on from this place and bury Mark in some tomato seeds, or something. (But he really can’t help it if the stranger’s arms look positively ravishing.)

“You’re kind of annoying for a fellow murderer, you know? I don’t think I’ll invite you to the Murder In Trees Club after all. It’s MInT for short, you know. I’m Jaebum, by the way.”

This is the hook line sinker that reels Jackson in. “Oh. There’s a CLUB? Why didn’t you say so before, of course I’d love to join! I love making new friends! There is a contract though that says you won’t kill club members, right? Oh, do you have a secret code name? Jaebum? Jaebae? JayJay? JayBee? JB? JB! I’m Jackson, but call me JFlawless.”

Jaebum, or JB now, in Jackson’s mind, looks a little taken aback, but decides to roll with it for now. Because that’s what seasoned murderers are trained to do. “So. What happened to that body?”

Jackson’s face flickers into a thousand expressions before settling on fake smirking. (Jackson isn’t a seasoned murderer but he was a public figure for some time, so not he knows how to deal with these things.) He also realizes that now is not the time to tell the truth if he wants to join the club MInT. (The acronym is cute enough that he forgives the crime required to initiate.)

“Oh, you know,” Jackson begins, casually attempting to lean against a tree (although, being Jackson, of course he misjudged and fell over into the tree), “I was out with this kid, Mark, and we were smoking pot but he was totally hogging so I pushed him off the cliff.”

Jaebum smiles, showing all of his teeth. “Lovely.”

“Thank you, and you?”

“Ah well, really it was an accident. I didn’t mean to kill this one,” Jaebum does the tree lean, and it works perfectly for him and his long limbs. “I work in retail, you see. It’s a kind of hipster clothing brand so most of our customers are already really annoying kids. But this kid, man, his name is Bambam, always comes in with his boyfriend, this other tall ass kid, Yug-something or other.

“Well, they come in all the time. And they’re annoying as hell. Well, Bambam’s just plain annoying, Yugyeom is fine but he always asks for sizes that we don’t have. Usually, Bambam comes in five minutes right before closing time, which, ugh. Blazes through, fucks up all the nicely folded clothes, only buys one or two of the cheapest items and tries to stack as many fucking coupons on the counter as he can fit in his tiny, pre-pubescent hands.

“I can handle rude customers, up to some point. But then one night, he comes in and asks me to put on ‘the mannequin challenge song’ as if I’m some DJ, which I’m not. But he’s the customer, and there’s the boss’s motto, make the customer happy, so I do it. Takes some effort, but it works. I keep on my fake smile, keep my anger in check. Fine. But then he starts dragging the mannequins to and fro, stacking them up so he can ‘to the mannequin challenge but legit’ and then he tries to leave. And that’s when I snapped. I was not having it. Simply not at all.”

“And then what happened?” Jackson ventures. He’s a little fascinated and awed by the fury of JB’s rant. He’s pretty sure he heard a few actual real live growls, and JB’s chin seems to have elongated over the course of the rant as well.

“I’m not that good at controlling my anger. This happened,” and he kicks the dead body over, the shredded cheetah print pimp coat falling apart.

“Huh. Or maybe you’re just a gross necrophiliac. Why is the poor boy half naked?” Jackson questions.

“Because that is a horrendous coat. Would you ever wear something like that in public?”

“True.”

“Anyway,” Jaebum continues, “I only like to fuck warm bodies like yours.”

Jackson opens his mouth to respond, but suddenly he can’t get out a single word and they’re pressed up against each other, making out with a passion that Jackson has never experienced before. He’s almost sure they’ll end up doing the do in the woods, when there’s a loud crunch as Jackson stumbles across Mark’s hand.

“Oh.” He’d forgotten about the dead bodies part. “You know what. I’m way too high for this. We’ll just promise each other that we’ll keep this a secret between the two of us, and go our own ways. Thanks for the invitation to MInT, but I’ll pass.” Jackson turns to go, and then collapses where he stands.

—

“I’m sorry,” says Jaebum, standing over Jackson’s prone body. “The only way to keep a secret is if nobody knows it happened.”

Jaebum decides he’s not really that sorry. Jinyoung’s birthday is coming up, and he’ll need more than just Bambam’s thin body if he wants to harvest enough human skin to print a single edition book for Jinyoung. It really doesn’t help that Jinyoung tends not to go for the shorter books, either.

[7ficsandyou]

Hi admins! I just wanted to ask whether any of you know which markbum/jjp fanfic this quote came from? "You'll fall for him. He's a casanova and you're a hopeless romantic." I've read this before but I forgot the title & author (Aigoo I'm so ashamed TT^TT) so I'm asking if any of you are familiar with it? Thank you! 💓

Hi anon,

Sorry, we’re not familiar with this fic :( In general, if it’s something that’s been written for our blog, we’d be able to link you directly to it, but if it’s from elsewhere, chances are we won’t be able to help :/

Good luck, we hope you find it!

[7fics]

Jackson and Youngjae are caught in a bank during a robbery. They become friends and giggle in the corner, trying to avoid getting shot. Also, Jackson thinks Youngjae is cute so it's kinda fun. At least if he dies, he died in a good mood.

Warnings: character death, too much exposition, how to write action?, “I love Dark” -seo changbin voice

Word Count: 1.1k

Author: Chewy

how… do banks work lmao

Jackson wakes up that morning to an envelope hitting his face and a dog scratching his leg.

“What.”

He squints at the bright light coming in through the blinds before smacking the offending rectangle of paper off to the side.

“Jackson! Don’t go back to sleep. I need you to drop this off at the bank before you go in for your shift this afternoon. Don’t forget unless you want to be out on your ass with the landlord hounding you for a paycheck.”

“What.” Jackson thinks he hears Jinyoung’s voice say some more words ranging from “careful” to “I’m late” to “you’re dead to me” but he opts to rather ignore his roommate’s ritual morning mumbo jumbo in favor of turning over and falling back asleep, this time very much without the sun shining in his eyes. Heating bill be damned, Jackson does not appreciate Jinyoung ruining his beauty sleep by yanking open the blinds every day at eight in the morning.

“I said don’t sleep!”

“Okay mom,” he mumbles to the sound of the front door slamming shut.

—

Jackson forces himself out of bed after a few moments of tossing and turning. Jinyoung always knew what kinds of smells to cook up in the morning and how to open doors in just the way that would scratch on the back of Jackson’s half-conscious mind until he dragged his ass out of bed. This hadn’t been what Jackson had been expected when first signing the lease with Jinyoung.

This and the mess of our living room, Jackson thinks as he picks his way between piles of clutter and makes his way to the awaiting omelet in the kitchen. At least there’s one good side to this arrangement, Jackson concludes as he munches through breakfast while scrolling down his newsfeed. Its an average start to an average morning before he’s off to his afternoon shift at work. He picks up the envelope Jinyoung had dropped on him and decides that thirty minutes before work should do the trick, checking the time as he starts getting dressed.

Jackson checks the time on his phone once more as he leaves the house, checking the lock once, then twice because sometimes their neighbor gets confused and likes to barge in. He sees that he has plenty of extra time and decides that today is a good day, a leisurely day. He walks out the door with a smile reaching his eyes and a whistle on his lips, waving at the guard at the front as he passes.

Jackson is enticed by the sweet aroma of lattes and espresso coming for the little cafe around the corner and stops in for a green tea latte, dropping a tip for the barista because if his day is going this great, then so should everybody else’s.

Once he reaches the bank, the shining sun and chirping birds have made it so that he feels like he’s practically floating at this point. The heavens truly appear to be blessing him today, because he bumps into a man at the door with a smile that could outshine the sun.

“Oh, sorry!” the stranger giggles, pulling back from the door as Jackson reaches forward.

“Oh no, after you,” Jackson gestures, and hey, it’s the gentlemanly thing to do! Although if somebody asked, he wouldn’t be able to truthfully say that he hadn’t used the opportunity to check out that fine ass as it walked by him.

As they get into line, Jackson is so dazed by the smell of actual sunflowers and daisies emanating off of this angel in front of him that he ends up bumping into his backside. The stranger turns around with a surprised expression on his face, and Jackson opens his mouth to apologize when the moment explodes.

He hears it behind him in slow motion, the tinkling of the bells above the doorway emphasized by the shattering of the glass windows. Logically, Jackson knows it isn’t possible, but he’s sure he can hear each individual crackle and snap match the reflection in the stranger’s eyes as they widen in shock and fear.

And then snap, life is back on normal speed, people are screaming everywhere and Jackson does the only thing he can think of to do. He drops Jinyoung’s envelope and grabs the man’s hand in front of him, drags it behind him as he leaps behind a booth and crouches, panting heavily. There’s panicked shouting and scrambling everywhere, and for some reason, the sprinklers have gone off so now they’re wet. Jackson, with water dripping down his hair and face, mouths, “Are you okay?” and when the stranger nods, still with those wide and solemn eyes staring at him, Jackson finds a sliver of a smile within him. “Hi, Okay. I’m Jackson.”

The stranger opens his mouth wide, and even though Jackson has never heard his laugh, and maybe never will, he can imagine how loud and carefree it would be. Jackson imagines it bouncing around a classroom full of little kids as the man reads a fairytale to his students, or outside, laughing and rolling off the picnic blanket and into the grass, or in a movie theatre on an awkward first date while everybody else in the theatre shoots death glares while Jackson can’t help but laugh along, or in a car on a long road trip to the beach as kids in the backseat whine, “Are we there yet?”

But instead, in this heavy moment, he gets to hear a strangled breath before the man shakes his head gently, fondly, even, following up with a smile and a whisper of, “It’s actually Youngjae.”

As Jackson turns his head to the side and sees thick black boots stomp over Jinyoung’s check, a small part of his brain tells him that later, Jinyoung will be so upset with him for letting this happen, although he’s not sure whether this is the fallen envelope, or the hiding behind the desk about to die, or not getting this strange man’s number and letting Jinyoung be their best man in the future and adopting the cutest little babies who will grow up knowing that their father was an angel and naming Jinyoung godfather and sending their children on little playdates and crying together as a family as they watch their babies go off to college and, and, and… And instead making Jinyoung be a primary mourner at a funeral, or whatever.

But he decides that, in the end, it doesn’t matter, as he tilts his head back against the wooden panel and looks up into the barrel of a gun, smiling, as he whispers, “Okay, Actually-Youngjae.”

—

Later, when the police arrive just a few minutes too late, they’ll discover two bodies sitting side by side with their fingers interlocked. They might scratch their heads for a minute, but in the end, they shrug and mark their files, No Known Relation.

[7ficsandyou]

Anonymous asked 7fics:

hello^^ is anyone here joining the YOungJae fic fest?

~~

Wendy: I am and I'm already struggling with my prompt 􀬁􀅁haha􏿿

Chewy: Im trying but i just have not been inspired by any prompts:(

Jessica: I am!! :)

Mia: I am! mark2jae, whoo!

Jenni: i will if i find a prompt that catches my eye

*Note: Any asks that aren’t prompts that are submitted to our main 7fics blog will be moved to and answered on our sideblog here instead.

[7ficsandyou]

yooooo do any of you have any recommendations for other blogs that write got7 fics? I've started to get into reading more and I can't stop oh no

/shameless self promotion/ a lot of the authors also write fics outside of 7fics so you can always check out the writers page!! Also I recommend all the usual fanfic sites such as aff/ao3/livejournal etc. if you’re just looking for tumblr blogs in general, directories have lists of writers, such as gotdirectory also if yer looking for particular pairings or fics there is also got7ficrec.tumblr.com or you can always ask me for recommendations because lord knows I have read fic, many many fic

-Chewy

[7fics]

Could I maybe get a JB/Yugyeom fic? I haven't come across any :\ Maybe a college au? Shy freshman Yugyeom needs tutor Jaebum to help him with his writing class and he develops a crush on Jaebum.

Warnings: low-key polyamorous bambam is in a relationship with everyone//singletrans!mom jinyoung//the great mystery of jeon jungkook???//lotta swearing?//sporadic honorifics because english whoops//drinking? idk, college stuffi// know nothing about college and i’m super lazy at making up names, so there’s a lot of numbers of things that probably should have names//a giant mess idk what happened sorry

i took a few liberties with the prompt but hey, cute jaegyeom so whoohoo!

Word Count: 7.5k of absolutely nothing happening???

Author: Chewy

“Yugyeom-ah, come say hi. This is your new babysitter, his name is Jaebum.”

“H-hello, Jaebum ahjussi,” Yugyeom stutters out. He looks up, up, up at the tall, tall must-be grown up standing in front of him. But the guy in front of him also couldn’t possibly be a grown up, because no way Jaebum ahjussi is wearing ripped clothing and is sporting Air Jordans on his feet and he looks so, so cool.

“Hey there, kiddo. I’ll be hanging out with you for the rest of the night, how’s that sound?” He speaks, and his voice is even cooler than his appearance, if that’s even possible. And, and! Jaebum ahjussi said hanging out instead of playing or babysitting and Yugyeom feels cool too, like he’s an adult and everything is so wonderful. Yugyeom wants to tell his best friend Bambam about this cool ahjussi he met, but at the same time Yugyeom wants to keep Jaebum ahjussi all to himself.

Then he realizes that he’s got his mouth still hanging open, and goes to close it just as his mom says, “Yugyeom-ah. Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.”

“Moooooooooooom,” Yugyeom whines. He can’t believe his mother just embarrassed him, in front of Jaebum ahjussi of all people. But he forgets about it in a moment because, “Woah, ahjussi, is that a skateboard? Can I try?”

Jaebum laughs, and ruffle’s Yugyeom’s hair. His eyes crinkle until they’re gone and the piercings in Jaebum’s ears (which are the coolest, he’s already planning on how he’ll beg his mom for some just like Jaebum ahjussi’s) dangle when Jaebum throws his head back, and Yugyeom wants to touch them, test if they’re as sharp as they appear. “Sure you can, kid. But only if you promise to call me hyung, and not ahjussi, okay?”

“Yes, hyung!” Yugyeom shouts proudly, because only people who are close, and friendly call other people hyung and it’s such an honor. “Hyung?” Yugyeom musters up all the courage that can be held in his tiny body.

“Yeah?” Jaebum hyung responds, stooping down so he is at eye level with Yugyeom.

Yugyeom can already feel a blush coming onto his face, but he manages to blurt out, “You’re so cool hyung!” before he runs and darts behind his mom, hiding behind her skirt.

—

It’s been a few years now, Yugyeom is much older, much taller, much more mature and now he’s one of the cool kids that he admired so much before. As a matter of fact, Yugyeom is going to college. College. It’s not really a big deal, really, he doesn’t even care that much as long as he gets to dance. It’s just hard to ignore when—

“COLLEGE!” his mom shrieks for, oh, maybe the 700th time. “My baby is finally going to college! You be careful out there, okay? I can’t believe you’re all grown up already, my fine boy.”

“Uhg, mom, can you stop? You’re embarrassing me, I’m not even going far,” Yugyeom grumbles. He grumbles, and he does not whine because he’s no longer a baby and only babies whine. He’s cool now. He has a reputation for his dance duo with Bambam, he’s popular, he’s king of the world! (He’s also a little nervous because he’s going to college and he’s going to be a freshman again but he’s an adult now and he can make adult choices and he’s not scared what no no way!)

“Oh, I’m sorry baby, mommy’s just so proud of you for following your dreams and I still can’t believe you managed to get into college—“

“What the hell, mom? Are you saying that you didn’t think I was going to go to college?” Yugyeom asks in disbelief. What is he going to do, his own mother doesn’t think he’s going to be able to make it through college!

“Language!” she snaps at him, before returning to smiles and hugs and coddling and, “Sweetheart, it wasn’t that I thought no college would want you, you’re such a sweet boy that anybody, and I do mean anybody would love to have you as a part of their community. But, you’re grades just…”

“Uhg, mom stop. My grades are fine, just go already,” Yugyeom whined.

“Oh, Yugyeom sweetie, don’t forget to eat three meals a day, you’re still a growing boy, and go to sleep early, okay? And be careful, you don’t want to hurt your ankle again, and oh, is there anything else I’m forgetting, you just tell me if you need anything, I’ll—“

“Haha, okay of course mom, no problem bye~” Yugyeom calls as he slowly nudges her out of his dorm room and shuts the door. He may or may not be able to still hear his mother’s voice trailing down the hallway, calling out random, unnecessary reminders. How humiliating. But… It is the last time he’s going to see her in a while. “I love you, too,” he calls, poking his head out and in the door as fast he possibly can. He doesn’t think that it was worth it when he hears his mom start sobbing a moment later. And then, a few more moments later, he hears the same sobbing and “my baby’s going to college” floating up to his 5th floor bedroom window. “Uhg.”

—

Okay, so maybe his mom was right in underestimating his ability to do well academically. Really though, don’t misunderstand! It isn’t that he’s not smart! He’s just… Well… He’s a dance performance major, it’s not like he’s going to need to know how to write reports or dissect fetal pigs when he’s a famous dancer giving tours all over the world.

“Bambam. Bambam~”

“Oh my god Yugyeom, what do you want, let me live,” Bambam groans from where he’s situated on the bed. Yugyeom’s bed, in case anybody was wondering.

“Have you done the reading analysis paper yet? What passage did you choose?” Yugyeom asks, sullenly flipping through his book. At this point, he’s not actually looking at the words anymore. Who is he kidding though, it isn’t as if he’s ever looked at the words before. “I just, I don’t see whey this is necessary! At all! Bambam are you listening?”

A thumbs up pops up from under the pile of blankets and pillows Bambam is situated under. “Of course, Gyeom. Just, can you whine a little quieter? I need my beauty sleep.”

“I do not whine!” Yugyeom gasps indignantly. But quietly. Because, goodness knows, Bambam needs his beauty sleep. Especially with Bambam’s roommate’s late-night sleep-talking, sleep-walking escapades, the lack of sleep shows on Bambam’s face. And it is not a pretty sight, no not at all. “Speaking of your roommate.”

“Were we talking about my roommate?” Bambam wonders. His words, however, get muffled behind his pillows and Yugyeom doesn’t hear him, choosing instead to continue talking. Or maybe Yugyeom is ignoring him.

“What major did you say he was? Wasn’t he a poetry major or something? And he got held back a year? So he’s probably familiar with all of our assignments?” Yugyeom asks, eyes bright as he develops his Plan D to pass English without actually doing any work.

“You’re an idiot,” is Bambam’s only response. (His roommate is a music therapy major—whatever the heck that means—and he’s only a year older because he took a gap year to “discover himself” and came back to school when he realized “discovering yourself” doesn’t get you a job.)

“Whatever. Have you or have you not finished the assignment, Bambam?” Yugyeom asks. This time, he’s the one with the muffled voice, face planted right in the spine of the book he’s (should be) reading.

There’s a scoff, followed by a jumble of groans that Yugyeom takes to mean, “Who do you think I am.” What Yugyeom can’t interpret is whether that means “Yes, I have” or “No, I have not.”

There’s some more shuffling, and then Yugyeom thinks he spies a nose peeking out of the blankets, “What about Jungkook, has he done it?”

“Who’s Jungkook?” Yugyeom asks. “Is he smart?”

“Your roommate, dumbass. How can you not even know your roommate’s name!” Bambam scolds.

Yugyeom’s about to bite back with a comeback about how he doesn’t even have a roommate, who’s the dumbass now, when the door clicks open and a boy with black hair peeks in. “Hey, I was doing the laundry and your phone was in my basket, also, your mom is calling and says it’s really urgent that she talk to her baby boy right now.”

“Who are you?” Yugyeom stutters out but the boy is already long gone by then. Bambam later tells him that that is in fact Jungkook, Yugyeom’s actual-real-life roommate who apparently never comes into the room when Yugyeom is around or awake. Currently, however, Yugyeom is soon distracted by his mother’s shrill voice echoing from his phone.

“KIM YUGYEOM! ARE YOU THERE? HELLO? YUGYEOM-AH, DARLING, TALK TO YOUR MOTHER! I’M VERY WORRIED ABOUT YOU! HELLO?”

“Mom, please stop yelling,” Yugyeom whines. “Even Bambam can hear you at this point.

Her the alarm in her voice dies down quickly; her volume, however, does not. “Oh! My boy Bambam is there, too? Put him on the speakerphone, quickly, quickly!”

“Hi Mrs. Park! It’s Bambam!” In no time, the two are chatting away like best friends. Yugyeom sometimes thinks his mother likes the Thai boy more than her own son. Probably because they love to gossip so much. It’s usually a good thing, because that means Yugyeom can zone out and mostly not talk to his mom.

Yugyeom’s zoned out again, staring at the dead bug that’s been stuck on his wall since… Wow how long has that been there? He’s never really noticed it before now, sort of like the way he’s never really noticed that Jungkook was his roommate… Speaking of Jungkook, he catches something from Bambam’s conversation and slowly zones back in.

“…was his roommate, and then, he had the audacity to ask if Jungkook was smart! Hah, Jungkook, academics, those two mesh together about as well as, well, Yugyeom and academics! It’s hilarious, Yugyeom has barely even turned in a single assignment in his english class and…”

Yugyeom realizes too late that he zoned in a little too late. “BAMBAM!” he screams at the same moment his mother shouts, “KIM YUGYEOM!”

Bambam takes this as his cue to exit the room. “See you later kiddo. I sincerely hope you aren’t deaf by then.”

The following shouting that ensues is unmatched by even the best of heavy metal rockers. It’s actually pretty calm, by Yugyeom’s mom’s standards though, so he’s able to zone out and whine a little at the important bits. Such as:

“Kim Yugyeom, if you don’t get your grades up this very instant, I swear to the high heavens above that Jesus will smite you down where you stand, and if Jesus doesn’t, I will! You do not want to face your mother’s wrath!”

“Mom. Are you even Christian?”

“That doesn’t matter! Go and get your grades up, do your assignments, get a tutor, beg your teacher, I don’t care!”

“Would you have your own son groveling at the feet of some old balding professor, all for a measly academic letter? Grades don’t matter, mom! Feelings do! And ear drums!”

“Oh, speaking of tutors, I know just the right boy!” Of course, his mother continues talking without acknowledging a word he’s said.

“Mom. I don’t need a tutor, I’m fine,” Yugyeom tries to butt in. His mother, of course, is not having any of it.

“Do you remember, child, back when you were just a little baby? Oh, I miss those days when you and Bambam would just play mostly quietly and kiss me on the cheek when I asked. But, oh right, a tutor, Yugyeom! A tutor would do you good, and what would you know, but your babysitter is a senior at the very same college you go to!”

“Mom, stop, that’s embarrassing, and I don’t need a— Wait Mom did you just say Im Jaebum hyung goes to this school.”

“Jaebum! Yes, Jaebum is such a smart young boy, and so filial, too. Not at all like a certain son I know.” Yugyeom can practically feel the pointed look she’s sending him over the phone.

“Mom, are you subtweeting me over phone?”

“He’s a senior, you know, Jaebum is. Such a good boy, too, I heard he took a gap year to work so that he could pay for his college. Because, unlike some young boys, he knows that money doesn’t grow on trees.”

“Wait, Mom, wasn’t he like 20 when I was 9?” Yugyeom wonders. He remembers, Jaebum hyung was so old and cool.

“No, silly, he was only thirteen! I’ll call him right now, I’m sure he’s kept the same number as before. I’m going to hang up now, Yugyeom-ah! Don’t forget to eat three meals a day and do your homework! And give Bambam our love!” Before Yugyeom can even respond, he’s met with the drone of the dial tone.

“Oh. My. God.”

—

“AHAHAHAHAHA, I can’t believe it! Your mother had you babysitter by a thirteen-year-old! When you were nine! What is he gonna do, dial the phone a little faster than you?” Bambam is, as per usual, laughing his ass off at Yugyeom. “I can’t believe you were so enamored with a thirteen-year-old. This is hilarious, this is the news of the century, Yugyeom!”

“That’s not the point, did you not hear? He goes to our college! I’m breathing the same air as him right now! This is insane!” Yugyeom shouts back. Bambam should really be focusing on the important issue at hand, not whatever dumb Bambam thing that he’s focusing on is. He wonders how his so-called best friend can still be a little bitch over the phone.

“But Gyeom! I though you said Jaebum hyung was an ahjussi, I though he was twice your age or something!” Bambam crows. “You thought a thirteen-year-old was ‘the coolest ever!’”

“Whatever, that’s not the— Wait hold on I have an incoming call I’ll get back to you later,” Yugyeom says, looking down at the unfamiliar numbers flashing on his phone. He hopes it’s not another one of those scam calls, and lifts the phone back up to his ear, “Hello? Who is this?”

“Yugyeom? Is this Yugyeom?” the voice asks. There’s a hint of familiarity ringing in the voice, but then again, Yugyeom is very popular. (He’s actually just adequately popular, but likes to delude himself.)

“Yes, this is he. Who is this?” Yugyeom repeats his question, getting a little frustrated. He wasn’t the one that made the call, now, was he?

“Ah, Yugyeom-ah! It’s so good to hear from you again, your mom called and told me you go here! She was asking me to look out for you actually, I hear you’ve been getting into trouble again,” the voice goes on. Yugyeom can hear the mirth in his voice; he’s afraid that he himself, however, does not share the same feelings.

“Excuse me, who are—“ Yugyeom gets cut off again before he can spit out his question.

“Hey, why don’t I buy you dinner sometime? We can talk over dinner, and I’ll ‘cue you in on some tips and helps for college life’ or so Mrs. Park says,” the Strange Man continues, “What dorm are you in? I’ll come pick you up.”

“Number 3 behind the swampy courtyard, but who is—“

“Alright, Friday, six o’clock? You can bring Bambam, too, if you want, I’ll have a few friends over as well. See you then, Gyeom-ah,” and with that, the Strange Man hangs up.

Yugyeom realizes later, as he’s telling Bambam about the incident, that it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to give his address to a stranger, but then again, said stranger seemed to know his mom. Plus, free food! That’s the first thing any college student learns, right? Always accept free food.

—

The day has come, and it’s Friday, 6 o’clock. Yugyeom actually doesn’t realize that he’s supposed to be getting ready to be somewhere until he meanders down to the first floor with his pikachu pajama pants on in hopes of finding somebody’s discarded food. (It’s actually not that disgusting, he promises himself, and it’s a way of life that everybody in the dorm has picked up on. You give and you take, the circle of life and whatnot.)

He’s just exiting the commons area with a granola bar in his mouth when a hand comes down square on his back. “Yugyeom! There you are!”

He chokes once because the guy just slapped him really hard when he was trying to swallow, and then chokes again because he looks up and, “Jaebum hyung? What are you doing here?”

“I said I was taking you out to dinner, remember? Come on, let’s go, my friends are waiting at the restaurant,” Jaebum says as he drags Yugyeom out the door. “Did you say Bambam was coming, too?”

“No,” Yugyeom says hesitantly, “Bambam has a project due.” He leaves out the fact that Bambam wasn’t interested in being kidnapped by a Strange Man and refused to come with. Yugyeom’s still too surprised that he didn’t recognize Jaebum’s voice sooner, and doesn’t notice he’s still only in his pikachu pj’s until they get to the restaurant.

“Yo, Jaebum hyung! Over here!” a voice calls out to them as they step through the doors. “Is that the kid? Nice pants, man!”

Yugyeom feels like a stop sign, he’s blushing so hard right now. “Yugyeom, this is Mark and Jackson,” Jaebum points out. Mark gives him a gentle smile (and wow that hyung is really handsome) and Jackson is still oohing over Yugyeom’s fashion choices. “Guys, be nice. This is Yugyeom, the kid I babysat.”

If Yugyeom thought he was blushing before, now he thinks he might have eaten a thousand Jolokia peppers. Oh my god. Jaebum hyung’s friends know him as the “kid Jaebum hyung babysat.” How humiliating. Yugyeom can only thank the heavens that Bambam decided to stay behind that night.

Yugyeom doesn’t think it can get any worse. As usual, Yugyeom’s wrong.

First, he misses his cue to sit down. It takes a couple tries for Jackson to get his attention, even with the loudest Jackson voice possible (this is mainly because Yugyeom is mentally screaming even louder than Jackson, something along the lines of “Fuckkkkkkkkkkk myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife”) and takes Jaebum tugging on his hand (as if he’s some kind of child! That needs assistance! He’s absolutely not!) to finally pull him into his seat. Then, when they’re ordering drinks (how does somebody fuck up ordering drinks? Yugyeom doesn’t even know anything at this point) Jackson and Jaebum get beers, Mark gets a coffee (“At night?” Jackson asks him with an eyebrow raised. “I have a paper due,” Mark responds. “Mix it with vodka, I promise it helps.” “Shut the fuck up.”) and right before Yugyeom’s about to order, Jaebum cuts in and says, “Do you want a chocolate milkshake? You love those, right?”

At that point, Yugyeom isn’t sure if he should be flattered that Jaebum remembers his favorite drink or embarrassed that Jaebum thinks of him as a child who still drinks chocolate milk. It’s irrelevant that he still loves chocolate milk, and ice cream, and anything at all related. Completely irrelevant.

The rest of the meal is spent pouting and petulantly slumping over in his seat. Jaebum mostly eats while Jackson and Mark coo over what an absolutely cute and adorable little dongsaeng Yugyeom is. (Yugyeom is in no way cute or adorable. He is cool, and macho, and manly. Shut up, Bambam, we do not talk about the Brony phase.)

By the time Jaebum is paying and they’re headed outside, it’s been solidified. Yugyeom is the official new cutie pie baby of the group. It doesn’t help matters when Jaebum stops Yugyeom before stepping out to bend down and tie his shoelace. “Yugyeom-ah, do you still not know how to tie your shoes properly?”

“Wh-what no I… They were just loose!” Yugyeom sputters out. He’s still definitely not whining, nope, no way. Jaebum just gets up and pats Yugyeom on the head causing Mark and Jackson to hug each other, cooing and squealing, and Jackson is literally screeching, “Oh my GOD that is so EFFING cute,” and seriously Yugyeom is withering in his newly tightened shoes, the whole goddamn street can probably hear Jackson and no, his face is only burning because of the cold, and no, his heart is not beating any faster, and no, his stomach is only flipping to digest all of the meat (and the chocolate milkshake) he ate, and seriously is Mark getting out his phone?

But wait! It’s not over yet. All hell breaks loose when (a possibly slightly drunk Jaebum) slips an arm around Yugyeom’s neck, or at least tries to. Yugyeom may or may not see it coming, and give out a manly shriek while ducking. Jaebum may or may not have under compensated for Yugyeom’s height (since when was the kid so damn tall anyway?) and that, combined with Yugyeom’s ducking just might have resulted in Yugyeom getting decked in the face. Why, of all unlucky happenstances, did he have to be standing on Jaebum’s left?

Of course, to top it all off, Mark got the whole thing as a recording on his phone. Jackson, somehow, of course, knows Bambam (damn them social butterflies) and sends it to him, as well. As far as first meetings go… Well, at least it’s memorable.

—

Luckily for Yugyeom, Bambam is quickly introduced into the group and takes on the role of cutie pie baby. Bambam seems to like it too, and Yugyeom can only wonder how he tolerates such a thing, but then again, even when they were younger, Bambam would be the one ready to give out kisses to Mama Jinyoung while Yugyeom would shy away with a shout of, “Mom, stop, you’re embarrassing me!” Which, truthfully, is still a regular occurrence. (The “Mom, stop,” part, not the kisses as much. Even Bambam’s grown up a little over time.) They settle into an easy routine, hanging out and getting lunch throughout the week, getting together at one of their dorms (often Yugyeom’s because it’s a big room used by one person… Technically Jungkook uses it, too? In the wee hours of some nights maybe?) to “Get Shit Done and Make Homework Their Bitch” as lovingly called by Jackson, or “Gyeom-ah, Let Me Tutor You in Everything Because I’m So Perfect” as paraphrased by Yugyeom as quoted by Jaebum from Yugyeom’s mom. Honestly, though, Yugyeom’s mom has been calling Jaebum for “progress reports” more often than she’s been calling Yugyeom himself.

Today is a Friday night, meaning one of the study sessions, but it’s a much more relaxed atmosphere (aka they have their books open but also the television is playing The Avengers and really, which one’s more captivating? “The homework,” Jaebum says. “You’re a giant nerd,” everybody else says). They’re at Mark and Jackson’s shared apartment, squished into a corner of the living room because it’s the only place that you can see the floor of. Even the couch has been covered in mess.

Today is also one of those days where Youngjae accidentally let Bambam into his candy stash and that usually means Bambam is way too hyper for his own or anybody’s good. Luckily, they have Jaebum around and Bambam’s already been given two strikes, so he’s all but reduced to little giggles and wiggles, nothing drastic. Just enough to slowly get Yugyeom’s blood boiling while Mark and Jackson hide their snickering behind their hands.

“What?” Yugyeom hisses after the fourteenth time Bambam giggles and nudges his shoulder. Nudges his shoulder hard enough that he’s almost bumping his shoulder into Jaebum, who is sitting on his other side.

Bambam responds with another giggle, and another nudge, even harder now, this one actually sending Yugyeom crashing into Jaebum’s shoulder. His eyebrows look like they’re about to crawl off his head, or stand vertically and do the polka.

“Did you need something, Yugyeom-ah?” Jaebum asks, looking over. Yugyeom can only blush bright red and stutter out a no. Mark and Jackson aren’t even bothering to hid their laughter anymore and Bambam’s eyes have literally rolled up into the back of his head. “You’re looking a little flushed, do you have a fever? Maybe we should get you back home early tonight, wouldn’t want you getting sick.”

“What? No! I’m fine!” Yugyeom insists. He hates being babied. Okay, maybe he likes that Jaebum’s caring about him, but really. He’s not a child and he refuses to get sent to bed.

“Are you sure? Bambam, don’t you think Yugyeom’s hot?” Jaebum asks, putting the back of his hand up against Yugyeom’s forehead.

Bambam’s cackling as he responds, “Oh yeah, so, so, so hot. The hottest.” As if that weren’t enough, Bambam throws in a few more eyebrow wiggles here and there.

Jaebum decides soon that he’s had enough of Bambam, and also Yugyeom is still flushed so they both get sent home. Yugyeom interprets this as an opportunity to sleep. Bambam, however, interprets this as a sign from the gods that Yugyeom must be interrogated about his feelings.

“Come on,” Bambam whines when Yugyeom pulls the blanket over his head, refusing to respond. “Even Jungkook has emptied the room to give us this opportunity to talk, long and deep.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then, “That’s what she said.”

“Yugyeom you fucking filth. Get out”

“Maybe if it got you to stop bothering me,” Yugyeom counters. “What is there to even know, though? You know everything already.”

“What,” Bambam asks, “Do you mean to tell me that you still have a crush on Jaebum hyung? That’s like… That’s like first love status! Oh my gosh, I didn’t know you were so romantic!”“No,” Yugyeom hisses. “I have never had a crush on Jaebum hyung! I just. He was just really cool, okay? And he is still really cool, he has tattoos and on top of b-boying he sings, too, now. And, he’s majoring in filmmaking, he could be a movie director someday for all we know. It’s not like I like him or anything, really, like maybe he’s really handsome but— And either way, why am I discussing this with you? What are we, girls? Having a slumber party and talking about feelings?” Yugyeom’s panting a bit at the end of his rant.

“Wow. You should go on Unpretty Rapstar,” Bambam giggles at his own joke. “I think that’s the fastest I’ve ever heard you talk outside of your sleep. But, in all seriousness. Yugyeom. Even Mark and Jackson and Youngjae hyungs can see that you like him. Even Jungkook knows that you like him.”

“What? You’re exaggerating, I’ve talked to Jungkook all of twice this whole year. And don’t you find it weird that he was doing the laundry both times that he looked for me? First he had my phone in his laundry, then he had my boxers in his laundry. That’s kind of weird. And don’t you think it’s weird that he’s talked to my mom before he’s talked to me? My mom asks about him, you know, I think she cares about my non-existent roommate more than me.”

“Yugyeom! Stop avoiding the topic, we all know you talk fast when anxious. Plus, your mom cares about everyone. I bet she knows Jungkook’s social security number,” Bambam contemplates before shaking weird thoughts out of his head. Weird thoughts. “Back on topic, Yugyeom. Jaebum hyung.”

“Uhg, why do you have to do this to me,” Yugyeom groans, covering his face with his blanket. “I don’t care, I’m going to sleep.” Yugyeom jolts back up when he feels the thump of a pillow hit his back. “Ow, what the fuck Bambam? Is this Jungkook’s pillow? Why does it smell more like you?”

“You’re being rude you know. Maybe I’ll call your mom and tell on you,” Bambam complains. “Get serious, Gyeomie. Jaebum hyung was like, your sexual awakening.”

“Oh my goodness, Bambam. You’re disgusting, he was my babysitter.”

“Which is actually pretty hilarious, I can’t believe the guy you have a crush on had to babysit you,” Bambam cackles. “But really, you guys look cute together. Why don’t you just ask him out. Show him your moves.”

“No. I do not like him like that. Goodnight.” Yugyeom turns around and goes to sleep, hoping that will be the end of that conversation. It turns out, it’s absolutely not. Especially not after waking up the next morning from a wet dream about Jaebum hyung to Bambam giggling at him from Jungkook’s bed. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

—

“Hyung, save me,” Yugyeom groans. It’s been a month since the incident and not only has Bambam not let up, but he’s gotten Jackson and Mark in on it, too, resulting in too much giggling and shoving and funny looks.

“What’s wrong?” Jaebum responds coolly (so cool, so cool all the time—shut up Bambam, yes he was cool even that one time he stuffed 25 marshmallows in his mouth at one time) as he continues lazily scrolling through the pictures on his camera. God, he’s even a photographer, how much more perfect can he even be.

“Mark hyung and Jackson hyung are being annoying. And Bambam’s the worst,” Yugyeom whines. “Get me away from them.”

Jaebum just laughs at him before finally looking up and asking, “Hey Yugyeom, you want to go to that skate park downtown? Like when you were younger.”

Yugyeom nods his head vigorously and they quickly head out, Yugyeom claiming that he’s better than Jaebum now while Jaebum says that the student shall never defeat the master. Yugyeom’s content, pleased, happy even. Sadly, they say that good things never last.

Thirty minutes into flipping off ramps and whatnot, Yugyeom slips and comes crashing down. “Fuck!” he groans, gripping his ankle. It doesn’t actually hurt that bad, and it was really the embarrassment and surprise of the fall that had him crying out, but Jaebum comes rushing over.

“Oh my goodness, Yugyeom! Are you okay? Do you think you need to go to the hospital?” Jaebum asks, rushing over to flutter around him. “Did you roll your ankle? Are you going to be okay? We should get you some ice,” Jaebum continues, ignoring Yugyeom’s protests.

“I’m fine! I promise!” Yugyeom protests, waving his hands around. He is in no way sniffling. Nope, not at all. “Stop, hyung!”

Jaebum just sighs. “Regardless, we should get you home and there’s no way I’m letting you walk on that. Get on,” he says, squatting down in from of Yugyeom.

“Hyung, stop! I’m taller than you,” he grumbles, but regardless hops on, blushing bright red.

(This configuration obviously does not work because no matter how strong Jaebum is, Yugyeom’s feet somehow still awkwardly drag on the ground, so they end up hobbling forward with Yugyeom leaning heavily into Jaebum’s side. Still, the proximity is good enough that Yugyeom can smell Jaebum’s grown up dude cologne and he stutters in his responses all the way back home.)

—

“So basically,” Bambam begins, “What you’re trying to say,” he pauses, shakes his head, “Is that…” he sighs, looks up at the ceiling, back down at the floor, “You mean to say,” he looks around, behind, clasps his hands, “Jaebum hyung took you out on a kdrama date. And then he equated it to back when he used to babysit you.”

“Um. Yes?” Yugyeom says, shoulders pulled up.

“Well,” Bambam begins, only to fall apart into a fit of laughter. “You, my sweet young child, have a problem. You’ve been baby-zoned.”

“Wha-what? No, stop! That’s not funny,” Yugyeom sputters. “Stop laughing at me. I’m not a child! I’m legal!”

“Well don’t tell that to me! Tell that to Jaebum hyung, it’s his opinion that you’ve got to change. Besides, if you keep acting like a baby, he’ll treat you like a baby. Please don’t tell me you cried when you fell.”

“Just because I can’t smack you through the phone, doesn’t mean I won’t come for you later,” Yugyeom grumbles. He still can’t believe that Jaebum hyung tried to piggy back him all the way back home. Seriously, it was just a small scrape on his ankle—it called for maybe a Band-Aid, max. “What I need is for you to help me come up with ideas on how to change Jaebum hyung’s mind. He won’t budge!”

“Course he won’t, not until you show him.”

“Show him what? Have I not been completely obvious already? You said that everyone on campus knows I have a crush on him, so why is he not doing anything about it,” Yugyeom whines.

“Well, I don’t know! You gotta flirt, you gotta like, you know—“ Bambam’s voice cuts off suddenly and Yugyeom can hear him whining in the background as a new voice comes through the line.

“You dance. So seduce him.”

“I’m sorry, what? Who is this? Jungkook?” But the line is already dead.

—

As it turns out, Yugyeom’s mom seems to have had somewhat of the same idea that Jungkook (??? Yugyeom’s not sure, it kind of sounded like Jungkook but then again he’s only heard Jungkook’s voice once but he also thinks he heard Bambam says “Jungkookie” but also Bambam was giggling too much to comprehend and Yugyeom doesn’t really care to spend time investigating the mystery of supposed-roommate Jeon Jungkook when he can be seducing soon-to-be-boyfriend Im Jaebum) had given over the phone.

“Yugyeom! Why didn’t you tell me you had a dance competition next Saturday?” and a phone being waved in his face is the first thing Yugyeom’s greeted with when he walks to their regular courtyard table for lunch.

“I’m sorry what? How did you know about that?” On the inside, somewhere deep down, Yugyeom can hear alarm bells shouting “JINYOUNG JINYOUNG JINYOUNG JINYOUNG” but Yugyeom also knows that it’s rude to assume and one should never call their mother by her first name (at least by Confucian standards). So Yugyeom asks, because this is not a k-drama and Yugyeom does not have time for silly misunderstandings that try to stand in his way of winning Jaebum hyung’s heart. “Was it my mom?”

“Well, Mrs. Park texted me two days ago and then this morning Bambam confirmed, not to mention provided me with three tickets so that Jackson, Mark and I can all go see,” Jaebum replies. “I’m proud of you, Gyeom-ah. I remember when you were just a kid and first learning to shuffle, you were so tiny back then.”

And so began yet another episode into memory lane, recalling young Yugyeom with chubby cheeks and a bowl cut instead of oohing and ahhing at Yugyeom’s sexy hip thrusting, gyrating and rotating skills. It can also be noted that Bambam did nothing at all to help the matter when he came along with a Mark and a Jackson in his left and right hands respectively, perking up at the talk of dancing. “Oh! I dance! I dab every morning when I wake up!”

—

Too soon (or maybe not soon enough, considering Bambam spent every moment of the week reminding Yugyeom that it was his “chance to shine, and get Jaebum hyung to, for once, look your way! Be ready to make your moves, tiger.”) Saturday rolls around. Yugyeom spends the whole morning practicing and perfecting his final moves, taking breaks to freak out over the fact that Jaebum hyung would be watching his performance. The afternoon passes by in a blur of more freaking out, Bambam doing his make-up, and trying to to cry and/or sweat in said make-up.

Yugyeom doesn’t recall how, but he ends up dressed and backstage, waiting for the competition to begin. The house lights haven’t gone down yet, so Yugyeom takes the opportunity to peek through a gap in the curtains, looking for his friends (mostly just Jaebum, though). He immediately spots Bambam holding up a large banner that says… “Jungkookie”? Next to Bambam sits a sleeping Youngjae, but Yugyeom can’t be too sure as there’s another banner draped over the kid’s face that might say “Yugyeomie.” A couple of rows behind them, Jackson is putting Skittles in his nose while Mark looks on in disgust and Jaebum (oh my god Jaebum oh my god he’s wearing his low v neck oh my god) pretends he doesn’t know the two. Satisfied, Yugyeom attempts a wave, shakes his head when nobody sees him, and heads back when the lights begin to dim.

He spends the rest of the night trying not to shake his leg, greeting his seniors and thinks he might have high-fived Jungkook at some point, but he can’t be sure because it’s his turn to go up for his modernized tango duet piece. His hand slips at some point, but he keeps dancing and when they turn to bow, he thinks he might see his hyungs cheering, but the spotlights are too bright and the audience is too dark to really tell.

During his solo performance, however, the lights are dimmed in a series of reds and blues and Yugyeom finds Jaebum in the dark of the audience, eyes linking as he moves across the stage. Later, when Jackson drags them out to celebrate Yugyeom’s fourth place win in the duet section, the lights of the club are once again flashes of red and blue and Yugyeom senses a feeling of déjà vu as he sees Jaebum watching him through the crowd.

—

“Well. I think you’ll be happy to hear that Jaebum told Mark told Jackson told me, who is now telling you, that he thinks you looked way too fucking hot to handle when you were grinding in the club last night. Like, seriously on another level, is he even human, how is he humping the floor in a club and not getting trampled, kinda wanna fuck right now level too hot to handle,” Bambam reports.

Yugyeom just groans and rolls over. “What time is it?” he croaks out, cracking open an eyelid. “Did you even go home last night?”

“It’s nine in the morning, and I was over at Jackson and Mark hyungs’ place until like, I don’t really know, but then I heard what I just told you and I absolutely had to come share the news. But you were sleeping still and Jungkook let me in and now I’m telling you. It worked! There’s just one problem.”

“What?” Yugyeom croaks. He didn’t even hear what half of Bambam said but at times like these, he knows it’s best to just indulge in his best friend.

“Jaebum hyung got super depressed after he confessed that and started crying about how you were still such a cute baby and whatnot.”

“Uhggg,” Yugyeom groans. “Not cute. Why.”

“I mean, I also think that Jaebum hyung in general is just a crying drunk, but hey. What are you gonna do?”

“Dunno. Gonna sleep,” Yugyeom responds. He also mourns. Mourns for his love life, but mostly mourns for his terrible choice in friends and his loss of precious sleep.

“NO.”

“Whoah okay I’m up calm down, Bam, I’ll do whatever you say,” Yugyeom says, jolting up. “Lower your voice, please.”

“You shall confess.”

Yugyeom groans again and falls back in bed. “How do you expect that.”

“The next time you see him, push him up against a wall and say, ‘Hyung, I’ve loved you since the 4th grade, marry me!’”

Yugyeom decides it’s best to return to sleep.

—

A month passes during which Jaebum appears to avoid Yugyeom and Yugyeom lets it happen. He thinks he’s figured out why Jungkook is never in their dorm room when his “wild” dreams get wilder and frequenter as the sexual frustration builds up. (Seriously, isn’t college supposed to be about hook ups and releasing stress through one night stands?) It eventually leads to a point at which Jungkook tells Bambam tells Mark tells Jackson who is fed up with a constipated Jaebum and decides it’s officially time for meddling.

“Gyeom-doong! It’s been so long since you came over, will you grace the humble Jackson with your presence this evening? I’ll let you pick the menu for dinner,” Jackson calls.

“Hyung, I’m really busy tonight, I actually want to get my work done!” Yugyeom whines, although it’s mostly a lie. He just really wants to lie around and play MapleStory into the wee hours of the night.

“Oh come on, I miss you! Youngjae will even be there, with Coco, too! And if you’re worried about Jaebum hyung, he said he’s busy so he won’t be there until later,” Jackson responds, which is actually true, however the text only said thirty minutes late, max. Enough time to get Yugyeom sufficiently trashed and talking freely.

“Fine,” Yugyeom huffs, not realizing that he has signed away the fate of the rest of his love life.

“Yes! Perfect, see you then, Gyeom-doong~” Jackson the Love Guru says before ending the call. Plan Wang is in motion, Captain Wang is carrying Jaegyeom through the icy waters of love on board his Wangan.

—

It’s a rather small party and yet with the presence of Jackson it feels like so much more and not even fifteen minutes in, Jackson has gathered everybody into a circle to begin a round of truth or dare. (“Seriously?” Mark asks, “What are we, middle schoolers? What are you gonna ask, ‘who do you like like?” Jackson coughs, glances at Yugyeom and responds, “Yeah.”)

Yugyeom is fairly unfocused, and takes the opportunity to doze off in the middle of the game, subsequently missing the entrance of somebody new.

“YUGYEOM!” Jackson’s loud screeching is enough to wake anybody, and Yugyeom jolts out of his light doze. “No sleeping during my parties! Now truth or dare?”

“Uh truth?” Yugyeom responds. Nobody takes a dare from Jackson and survives with an intact reputation. He ignores the “haha pussy” from Mark because everybody remembers how Mark cried for an hour after Jackson’s games last time.

“Why did you first start liking Jaebum hyung?” Jackson asks. “Because seriously, why would anybody be sexually attracted to that old dino—“ (Here he is cut off by Bambam who shoves a hand over Jackson’s face.)

“Oh,” Yugyeom says, wondering how obvious he must have been. “I dunno. He’s just. Super cool.”

“Too vague, you get a penalty dare,” Jackson declares, moving to the kitchen.

“No, wait!” Yugyeom calls out. “He uh, one time helped me!”

“Oh this is cute I like where this is going, continue,” Bambam demands, scooting forward.

“I was, um, at the playground on the swings. Some kid pushed me off, so I started crying. And Jaebum hyung was with me, and he got mad and he pushed the kid that pushed me off, and put me back on the swing and scolded the other kid. And that was really cool.”

“Oh my god, yes, that is so cute, I love it, go on,” Jackson imitates Bambam, scooting forward as well.

“And, well. He had a skateboard?” Yugyeom finishes.

There’s a pause, before Jackson calls out, “LAME. Penalty dare, 7 minutes with Jaebum hyung, go go go.”

“Wait, what?” Yugyeom doesn’t even get the chance to complain before he’s thrown into the closet with somebody else in a flurry of limbs and the door is shut.

Jackson puts his ear up to the door, hears “Wait, you’re like, a baby! You’re practically four years old!” followed by “God damn it hyung, I’m nineteen.” followed by a few thumps. He turns back to the room with a wide grin and is greeted with cheers, pats on the back and fist bumps. Mark sits dumbfounded, wondering, “How the fuck did that even work.”

—

Jinyoung cries when she hears the news, sobbing, “I’m so sorry, Jaebum. I didn’t mean for my son to taint you like that,” as she simultaneously pulls out every baby album she has of Yugyeom in order to show Jaebum, including the many pictures of Yugyeom and Jaebum together in their childhood days.

[7ficsandyou]

i hope everyone is doing ok!!!

TJ: Thanks anon! It means a lot, thanks so much for the sweet ask!

Chewy: THanks lovely (although spring break was over a while back for me too and now we’re just getting into the season of standardized testing and ap goodness) BUT I’M FEELING REAL INSPIRED THESE DAYS SO LETS ROCK AND ROLL WHOO (btw check out rainbow’s whoo its great) Chewy out B)

Jessica: Thanks anon for the lovely comment ^^ it definitely inspires me to keep going.

Qi: aaa THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON YOUR COMMENT SUPER BRIGHTENED MY DAY! I mean I’m in Aus so I’m currently in winter break but it’s warm sentiments like yours that warm my cold self hehe

Angel: thank you anon! ^.^ if only more people were like you hehe! hope you have a great spring break too! (i don’t…actually know what people do during spring break in places that have it ;A; are flowers involved) but thank you lovely person and hope you enjoy what we’re preparing! ;)

Mia: Thanks, nonnie. Your appreciation and patience means so much to us writers. I’m on Spring Break so I have some time to be writing but there are definitely times when I don’t. I need to look at this message then and I’m sure it’ll make me less frustrated amd not being able to. Mia thanks from the bottom of her little turtle heart. ^▽^^▽^

Jenni: thank you so much anon!! your endless support always gives us strength

[7fics]

leader x maknae goodnesss pls. yugyeom breaks curfew and jb is worried

Warnings: it’s a lot crackier than i meant it to be. if you want to hear what happened to jackson, well… that’s a story for another time

Word Count: 1,270 nice and even woohoo

Author: Chewy

“Hyung, aren’t you going to sleep yet? It’s past midnight, you should rest,” Jinyoung called out as he passed by Jaebum in the living room.

“Huh? No, I mean yeah, of course. I’m just gonna finish going over these schedules while I wait for Yugyeom, then I’ll go to bed,” Jaebum said, finishing his sentence with a yawn. “I’ll be fine, you go sleep.”

“Alright, just don’t stay up too late,” Jinyoung said, heading back to his room.

Jaebum shifted up onto the couch, propping his computer on his knees. Looking at the time in the corner, he saw it was nearly one in the morning, and Yugyeom still wasn’t back yet. Sighing, he muttered to himself, “That kid better not still be practicing.” Jaebum shifted around some more on the couches, pulling an abandoned blanket over himself as he tried to get comfortable. He let out another deep breath and promised himself, “I’ll give it another hour and if Yugyeom’s still not home, I’ll call him.”

What felt like moments later, Jaebum was startled awake by a shrill scream piercing through the night. With a gasp, he jolted awake and checked the time, seeing that it was 4AM.

“What’s wrong?” Jinyoung asked, storming out of his room, followed by a still not quite awake Bambam. Mark appeared as well from the other side of the dorms, looking around curiously.

“What happened?” Bambam asked groggily, “Did somebody get hurt?”

Suddenly they all whipped their heads toward the bathroom, where shrill shouting could once again be heard. “HELP! GOD HELP ME! PLEASE SOMEBODY I’M GONNA DIE I’M GONNA DIE I’M DYING I’M DYING!”

They all rushed forward and Jaebum ripped open the door to be greeted by a sight too gruesome and revolting to describe. They’re only thoughts were, “Damnit Jackson, not again.”

Once they had gotten Jackson’s foot unstuck and thoroughly disinfected his leg and the floor and their own hands and the whole bathroom, they all gathered in the living room for a moment of silence for Jackson’s dignity.

“Don’t ask. It was an accident.”

“Well, I suppose as long as nobody’s hurt. Are you sure your foot isn’t sprained or something?” Jinyoung asked, concern mingling contempt on his face.

“I’m fine. We’re never speaking of this again.”

“Alright, guys, let’s just go to bed, it’s been a really long night. Thanks for waking us all, you know some of us have schedules tomorrow,” Jaebum groaned. “Bambam, wake up, go to your room and sleep,” he whispered, gently trying to nudge the little ball of cheetah print onesie awake.

“How is he asleep already?” Jinyoung wondered out loud as he helped Jaebum wake Bambam.

“Speaking of which, where are Yugyeom and Youngjae? Did they manage to sleep through Jackson’s screaming?” Jaebum asked, looking around. “Well, I’m sure Youngjae did, but Yugyeom’s usually the first one up and complaining about the noise.”

“Not in bed,” Bambam murmured, waking slightly from his sleep. “Didn’t come in yet.”

“WHAT?” Jaebum exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. “It’s 4:20 AM, why isn’t he back in yet, it’s hours past curfew! He’s not even an adult yet, where is the punk.” Before Jackson could even utter the words, “Blaze it,” Jaebum was already running out the door.

“Where the hell is that kid,” Jaebum said out loud. He was shivering and limping through the dark streets, calling out Yugyeom’s name every so often as if he were looking for a lost cat. If there had been any people out and about, Jaebum was sure that he would have gotten a few odd looks, but of course there weren’t because it was FOUR in the MORNING and nobody should be wandering at this time. Yugyeom, however, didn’t seem to understand this logic, the little punk. When Jaebum got his hands on him, he didn’t know what he was going to do to the kid.

After a few minutes of wandering, Jaebum soon realized that with no money, phone, or transportation, he really wasn’t being productive in his search for Yugyeom. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he tightened his blanket around himself and turned around and was headed back for the dorms when he finally spotted him.

“KIM YUGYEOM!” he shouted, running full speed ahead. Before the beanpole had a chance to even turn around and react, Jaebum had pounced, smacking Yugyeom on the back of the head with, what he realized much later, was a little more force than necessary.

“Hyung.. I.. What?” Yugyeom stuttered out, eyes wide and shocked.

“You idiot! You should have called if you were going to be out so late, do you even realize the time do you know how much trouble—“ Jaebum broke of his tirade suddenly when he heard a small hiccup. Tears were spilling out of Yugyeom’s still shocked eyes as he tried to comprehend the situation. “Oh my gosh, Yugyeom, why are you crying? I’m so sorry, Yugyeom, hyung was just worried about you, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” Jaebum said, enveloping the kid in a hug. “Sh, sh, please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to hit you that hard,” he said, rubbing Yugyeom’s back and trying to soothe the sobbing boy.

“You didn’t need to-to hit me! So-so hard,” Yugyeom hiccuped. He leaned into Jaebum’s hug for only a moment before slamming his own fist into Jaebum’s chest. “That was so mean, hyung. And unnecessary!”

“Yugyeom, please, hyung is sorry. If I let you hit me once, will that make you feel better?” Jaebum said, wiping Yugyeom’s tears with a corner of his blanket. “Not too hard, though, not too hard. And not the face.”

“It’s not like you have anything good to look at anyway,” Yugyeom grumbled, but Jaebum’s offer seemed to do the trick. He snuggled back into Jaebum’s embrace, still sniffling but now also giggling as he poked his hyung in the side. “What’s this? Why are you wearing a quilt, is this some new kind of fashion statement?”

“Haha, very funny. Just hurry up so we can get inside, it’s cold out,” Jaebum said, rolling his eyes as he still patted Yugyeom’s back.

“No.”

“No what?” Jaebum asked, confused.

“I’m not going to punch you right now. I’m saving it. For later. And. You have to buy me an ice cream, because you made me drop mine when you hit me,” Yugyeom said confidently.

“You little punk, do you think you’re going to get away with this much?” Jaebum answered back.

“Yes, because if you don’t I’m going to tell Jinyoungie hyung that you assaulted me. Come on, it’s cold, we should hurry up.” Yugyeom put his arm around his hyung’s shoulders and pulled him along to the nearest convenience store.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jaebum halted. When Yugyeom cocked an eyebrow at him, he sighed and said, “Fine, I’ll buy you ice cream. In fact, I’ll buy you a chocolate milkshake. Better? Good. But, can that happen later?”

“Hyung~ I’m hungry,” Yugyeom whined.

“Yes, you are, but I didn’t bring my wallet. Or my phone. Or a jacket. Or my shoes. And it’s kind of cold. So. No,” Jaebum put bluntly, looking away in embarrassment.

Yugyeom giggled an leant down to pat Jaebum’s head. “Okay, we’ll do as you say, Jaebummie hyung. Silly hyung, were you in that much of a hurry to see me? Did you want to see me that much, hyung?”

Jaebum could only scowl in return; he couldn’t even bring himself to push Yugyeom away because he needed all the body heat he was going to get.

[7fics]

please can you make a fic out of this picture but instead can it focus on 2jae?? pleaasee??pbs[.]twimg[.]com/media/CDjhk03WEAATIrA[.]jpg

Warnings: i’m sorry it’s too short for words, it’s too short its not made up of many words…. 1st person, lack of naming, onomatopoeia and all that jazz

Word Count: 400 ish

Author: Chewy

I stood still in the rain, curled under my umbrella except for one hand outstretched, touching the raindrops as they fell past and ran through my fingers. Drip, drip, drip. I watched people rushing past me, ducking their heads away from the shower, or huddled together under whatever shelter they could find. I liked the rain, though. It was refreshing, and I liked to feel gloominess every so often, instead of being bright all the time. Buzz, buzz. I quickly wiped my hand off and pulled my phone out of my pocket, noticing the time, and then the message. Oh yikes… Late again. The manager wouldn’t be pleased. No, the manager wasn’t pleased, by the looks of the message. I splashed my boots one last time in the puddle before pulling myself together to rejoin the crowd of people flowing around me.

“Thanks,” a voice whispered in my ear.

Yikes… “Who… who are you?” I asked, whirling around to face the intruder. Um… Intruder of my personal space.

“A person in need of cover? Come on, you’re headed this way, aren’t you? Let’s go then,” the stranger decided, placing his hand over top of mine to keep a firmer grip on my umbrella.

My umbrella. “Ex-excuse me, sir? You’re saying that you… You’re a stranger then?” I asked. I couldn’t decide if I was too shy to share an umbrella with this stranger, or if I was too afraid to push him away.

“Yes.” Such a confident answer. I wasn’t sure how to reply to such frankness, so I didn’t.

Splish, splash. I couldn’t make up my mind to do anything, so I didn’t. Besides, what is he stole my umbrella? He was, after all, going the same way as me. And so I just marched forward in silence, occasionally, stomping down my foot in a puddle in my way. He did the same, without the puddle parts.

“Thanks,” he said again before suddenly disappearing into the crowd.

Well. I supposed that would be the last I saw of him.

—

“It’s these monsoon seasons, you know? They just come and go with such power. And I do hate carrying umbrellas,” he says, grinning at me, eyes shrinking.

“Who… who are you?” I ask, slowly retracting my wet hand and looking around at the crowd of people, then back to my other hand, the one trapped between the umbrella handle and his hand. Where did you come from?

“You don’t remember me? We shared your umbrella,” he says.

Yes. The bluntness of his words bring back the faint memory. “A year ago…”

“Nevertheless, it happened. Why don’t I escort you all the way to your destination this time? It was rude of me to run off last time. The least I could do is buy you a drink… Or give you my number.”

Once again, I don’t really do anything and just follow him. But this time, I smile.

[7fics]

JJ project fic where jr is freaking out about the floor moves yugyeom did in his dance specifically the floor move where Jb had to drag him away! Basically them being parents and then sitting yugyeom down to "talk about this situation" and all of got7 gets pulled in for a "family meeting" ft. Jr blaming a perverted markson and maybe yugbam? (I'm sorry if it's too specific you can change things if it is)! Please and thank you!

Warnings: i dunno, i thought it was funny

Word Count: 1.1k

Author: Chewy B)

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sign of God - and in the face of company - to join together this man and the floor—“

“Oh my goodness Jackson, this is not the time for your jokes,” Jinyoung cuts in, adding a slap to the head to emphasize the severity of the situation.

“What?” Jackson grumbles, rubbing the not-even-sore spot. “It’s not like I’m telling any lies, hey, Yugyeom basically even consummated the marriage. Bambambambam-” (“Did someone say my name? Oh, never mind.”) “-until JB hyung had to come and pull Yugyeommie away from his love.”

“And good for Jaebum, too. Lord knows what I would have done if the- Oh god, somebody get me some water,” Jinyoung moans, gripping his head. This child, I swear. “On second thought, also get me a stress ball.”

“Hey, hey,” Jaebum says, pulling Jinyoung to a stop. “Relax, we’ll discuss this and figure out where to go from there. I know this is shocking, but Yugyeommie is growing up. We have to be open and caring and…”

“Where is he,” Jinyoung demands. “We need to gather the whole family and have a discussion about appropriate behavior. Jackson, where are the others?”

“Uh, well Youngjae’s probably sleeping, Yugyeom’s probably practicing some more floor moves and Bambam’s probably watching.”

“KIM YUGYEOM GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE RIGHT NOW.” Jinyoung can’t hold back his anger at his more. His baby should not be doing such R rated dances. No, Yugyeom will always be a baby in his eyes.

“Hey now, hey now (don’t dream it’s over).”

“WHAT,” Jinyoung roars, turning to Jackson.

“Don’t be too harsh on Yugyeom. He’s just a kid, man. He’s a kid-man. He’s a kid trying to be a man. A kid-man,” Jackson defends, hands raised. “Also, please don’t hurt me, but you have to agree that was totally sexy.”

“Excuse me? What are you implying?” Jinyoung hisses. “I will not have you thinking dirty thoughts of our youngest. Our maknae. Speaking of maknae, KIM YUGYEOM!”

“Yes sir, yes sir, dancing machine now here now here?” Yugyeom shouts, sliding across the living room floor (not yet realizing the severity of the situation).

“OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING GET OFF THE FLOOR, YOU’LL GET IN TROUBLE!” Jackson wails, launching himself at Yugyeom.

Yugyeom is thrown backwards by Jackson’s weight… Onto the floor.

“Jackson Wang, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Sorry hyung, my bad. Yugyeom, get up. I’ll just sit down now, is that alright with you leader sir?”

Jaebum just shakes his head as Jackson pulls himself and Yugyeom down to the couch (also clamping a hand over his own mouth).

At that moment, Mark sleepily walks out of his room. “What’s with the noise,” he groans, heading to the kitchen (only to be pulled back by Jinyoung).

“Perfect timing, you sit, too. Jackson and Mark over there and Yugyeom over here,” Jinyoung decides.

“Why me—”

“Sit.”

“Should I sit too?” Bambam pipes up.

“No, you can… On second thought. Yes. I did not approve of your crazy antics in Bangkok,” Jinyoung decides. “Now that we’re all here—”

“Are we going to start discussing how proud we are of Yugyeom’s newfound skill?” Jackson pipes up. (He’s clearly not yet learned his lesson.)

“No—”

“But the fans loved it, you know. Really, really, really. Like Flarry but with Yugyeom not Harry,” Jackson insists “And more humping,” he adds after a moment of thought.

“And that’s exactly the problem. No more humping, it’s inappropriate,” Jaebum cuts in. Direct and to the point, what leader-like qualities.

“Chansung,” Mark states out of nowhere.

“Uh, what does 2pm have to do with me?” Yugyeom questions. (He hasn’t really been following the conversation. Just the gist of it.)

“Nothing. I’m saying I agree with the no humping. You’re worse than Coco these days,” Mark puts out.

Bambam gasps, “Did you just compare Yugyeom to a dog?” Sometime during the conversation he has made his way over to sit next to Yugyeom. It’s hard to tell if his hands are being inappropriate or not.

“I think I’ve figured out the problem!” Jackson claims, leaping up. (And sitting back down at Jaebum’s order.) “Yugyeom’s retriever thing that’s going on is why he keeps humping things, like a dog!”

“No. It’s you and Mark’s fault for letting your perverted views infect our dear Yugyeom. And Bambam, for encouraging him,” Jinyoung decides.

“Wait a minute, are you blaming the foreigners for this mess? I cannot believe this! Just because we’re foreigners, you have no right to treat us this way!”

“So I’ve decided, from now on, there will be no more hip thrusting, shirt open, lip biting or anything sexual,” Jinyoung continues, ignoring the menace, “Thank the lord JYP for allowing us a cute and innocent concept that you can’t ruin with your perverted ways. And I ensured your pelvic movements couldn’t interrupt our performances by creating the choreography myself.”

“I thought you did that for the team, not for your cruel and unusual punishments!” Jackson complains. “Whatever. I can be cute.”

“No, you can’t,” Mark laughs. “I can,” he pouts.

“Of course you can, Mark. Now, I’ll be posting these rules on our fridge, and I expect you to uphold them. We must keep our pure and innocent boyfriend-idol images intact,” Jinyoung finishes. The rules have already been taped to the fridge and Jinyoung is in his room by the time the members think of their complaints.

“You can’t do this to us! What about our fans, they love when we’re sexy! Hyung, please!” Bambam whines, turning to Jaebum, who has been mostly silent the whole time. (He might have been sleeping, but it’s hard to tell with those eyes and bangs combo.)

There’s a pause, before Jaebum dismisses them. “It’s for the best.”

A few weeks pass into promotions, when Jinyoung calls for yet another meeting. They take their same positions as before, Mark and Jackson on one side, Bambam and Yugyeom on the other, and Jaebum and Jinyoung facing them.

“Hold on. Why doesn’t Youngjae hyung ever come to these meetings? It’s really not fair, is it?” Yugyeom complains. (Nobody should get special privileges. Except the maknae. Because the youngest is the cutest.)

“Because Youngjae is innocent, unlike you. I really am ashamed,” Jinyoung says, staring him down.

“What? What did I do?” Yugyeom defends.

“You’re being put on probation.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“You floor humped. Again. And, in front of Amber noona! Yugyeom, she’s family;! You can’t do that kind of thing!”