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chimivx · 23 days

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That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?

👫 -> college!teez x fem!reader/oc {frat/sorority} #️⃣ -> 10.5k (part EIGHT of ten) ‼️ -> 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, heavy angst, infidelity adjacent moments, mean boys, mean girls, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

{ there are names & faces in here that come from NMWID <3 }

october 4th ~ friday ~ 8:45 p.m.

A pop song from decades past hummed through the speakers, the sound at volume incredibly tolerable. You were thanking the girl behind the bar with your mind for not blaring it when there was barely anybody in the place. A couple older guys with baseball caps sat around the bar, the tv’s hanging up on the wall behind the curly blonde working hard played a baseball game. The playoffs had started for the season, these were important games now, there’d be a champion in a month or so.

DK’s team didn’t make it through, but they came close. Thinking of Isla while you watched the men in striped jerseys throw the ball around, guilt weighed on your chest. It’d been over a week and still, no one had heard from her. Not even Vernon.

Turning your glass in circles where it collected condensation on the wooden table you sat at, you leaned forward and took a sip, letting the vodka cool the pressure building within you from the inside out. It wasn’t too strong, not like the drinks at ATZ, but it was enough to ease the anxieties that had made their home within your nervous system.

For a week you’ve been a nauseous wreck.

Last Saturday, the recruitment dinner, where it felt like your life had crumbled overnight, haunted you. Everything you thought you knew, everybody you thought you could trust, it was all a lie. Not only a lie, but a lie that had been brewing for a year. Since last semester, since Yeji walked out of that bedroom with that smug grin on her face, since Wooyoung threw away what the two of you had, since Yunho became your saving grace… A lie. All of it.

Wooyoung and Yeji never slept together. Were you supposed to believe that? He was pretty convincing Saturday night, pulling you out of the house once the two groups of authorities dispersed, Yeji running off somewhere before you had a second to confront her.

And, oh lord, you longed to confront her.

ITZ had been paid off. Yeji gave them copious amounts of money so that she could be president. At least, that’s what Wooyoung had told you. It was your name, you were written down, Choi Aurora, you were supposed to be the president of ITZ for the last two years of your time here at Nasara, and you couldn’t figure out why.

Yeji has the money, Yeji has the face, Yeji has the fame. You have no money, you lived in a two bedroom rancher with your single, drug dealing father, and you have not the slightest idea what it takes to be a leader of a group of girls in dire need of somebody to look up to, somebody to place their blame on.

President Aurora? Yeah, okay.

Lighting up on the table, your phone took your attention from the TV though you longed to watch. The fans in the stands were on their feet, waving their rally towels in the air, shouting to their favorite players on the field. It was exciting, invigorating, no wonder Vernons dedicated his life to the sport. You’d have to get out to a game next season. Maybe if you could track down Isla, get them to make up somehow, you’d be able to go to games together.

You’d choose Tori first, always, but unfortunately you weren’t speaking at the moment.

She was the one lighting up your phone. Blowing it up, actually. Texts, phone calls, attempts to get through to you since she woke up on Sunday and you were nowhere to be found. Not answering her hurt you, because she was the only person you’d respond to straight away no matter the situation, no matter what you were doing. If you had a Tori notification, you were answering it. To go almost a week without speaking to her, it pained you. But, at this point, who knew what and didn’t tell you?

You needed time. You needed space. You still attended your classes for the week, ensuring your grades didn’t slip amidst this chaos, you just didn’t live at ITZ.

“I’ll buy you another if you need it, you don’t have to worry about nursing that one,” your father said, sitting beside you, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. Sipping your drink again, taking a much longer sip than before, you shifted your eyes over to him and he laughed. “You get to relax this weekend, okay? We can turn off your phone and hang out, just me and you.”

Almost laughing at his use of hang out, you smirked and swallowed your drink. “What about Seulgi?”

Yeonjun smiled, shaking his head. “Just me and you.” Taking in his twisted brows, the most animated part of his face, something you wonder if you’ve acquired from him, you took a breath. The door to the bar swung open, your father laughing as the tall, short black haired, thirty years younger, beefier version of himself walked through the door. “And Keeho, apparently.”

His feline eyes scanned around the bar, not taking long to spot you and your father. When he did, his resting bitch face erupted into the warmest smile, one you’ve missed. Ignoring the girl at the bar who greeted him, he held out his arms and hurried toward the table, catching you as you jumped to your feet to get swallowed by his hug.

“Oh my god,” he sang, the twang of his voice comforting you tenfold. “What the hell are you doing home? I missed you.”

Squeezing him hard, you groaned. “I missed you, too.”

“We just saw each other last month.” Yeonjun snickered.

Keeho shot him a look over your head, one of his hands smoothing over your hair. “It was a month too long, Yeonjun.” Unraveling yourself from his grasp, you laughed and sat back down beside your father, pulling your feet up onto the chair.

Yeonjun closed his eyes for all of three seconds, took a deep breath and let it out with a headshake, turning his attention toward the TV. Keeho was the only person he’d allow to snap at him like that, it’s been that way for years. He’s one of your homegrown friends, the two of you growing up together in the forgotten parts of Tamoe, where the rich people didn’t linger. Your houses were on the same street, right along the town's border of Soro, the main reason why the rich people didn’t stray too far south.

Sharing an age with you, Keeho still lived at home with his parents and his younger brother. Attending all the same schools at the same time, not wanting to mess with the other kids who were tougher than you, the two of you linked up. Keeho, a bisexual muscle mass of pure boy, and you, the girl who wouldn’t see her dad for weeks at a time, but when she did it’s because she had to go to a random police station with her Uncle Yoongi to bail him out of his holding cell.

Yeonjun knew how to make a scene, he could draw a crowd, which made it really hard to keep friends, or make any for that matter. Keeho was the right amount of different, the right amount of crazy, the perfect amount of understanding all wrapped into a judgement free, couldn’t care less human being. Even when he met your father, at the ripe age of eleven years old, he wasn’t afraid. At the time Yeonjun towered over him, but now, Keeho was only an inch shorter. The difference unnoticeable.

Seated around the wooden slab, Keeho stretched his arms across it and watched you wide eyed as you told him how you've been living your week.

“Father of the year, Yeonjun,” he said to your dad, making him crack the smallest smile, his eyes not leaving the TV. All week he’d been driving you into Delo, onto Nasara’s campus, taking you to and from classes, waiting for you outside the buildings. He’d often mumble his disappointment toward the students who’d let their glares linger on you as you walked in and out. Most had a dirty look in their eye, but a few watched in sympathy.

“I don’t want her in that house anymore,” he mumbled, scoffing as something happened within the game. “Not unless those social media posting bitches grow up.”

Keeho furrowed his brows, turning to you. “You’re gonna drop out of the sorority?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, ignoring your dad as he shot you a look.

“Tell him what that girl did,” he said. “The president of that stupid hierarchy shit.”

“Wait, Yeji?” Keeho asked, sitting up. After you nodded, he laughed. “You’re kidding me, what the hell happened? I know we weren’t looking forward to her being head of this hierarchy shit, not after…” His eyes insinuated what your father didn’t know. “What’d she do?”

Sighing, you dropped your gaze to the table and shrugged. “It sounds literally crazy, Kee. Like, those movies we used to watch, where the shit that goes down is unfathomable.”

“Unfathomable,” he huffed a laugh, “You’re talking like Yunho.”

Letting your eyes close, the sting of your heart overwhelming, you glanced at your dad when he snatched his empty glass off the table.

“Fuck that dickwad, too,” he said, lifting the glass toward Keeho before he strutted toward the bar. He watched Yeonjun walk away, then whipped his head to look at you wide eyed and confused as hell.

“Fuck that dickwad too,” you whispered.

Scooting his chair somewhat closer, Keeho leaned toward you. “I thought we liked him,” he said quietly, keeping the words between you. “At least, I thought you liked him, I could see it, Aura. When we hung out with him this summer, good lord, the two of you were insufferable.”

Everyone could see it but you, apparently.

Tangling your fingers together over your knees, you smushed your lips together and blew a stream of air through them. “I don’t even know if he ever really liked me.”

Keeho threw his head backward. “What the fuck, start from the beginning, what the hell happened?”

So, you did.

Starting from the beginning, restating the story of Wooyoung, who Keeho had strong opinions about. From the Yeji hook up, to falling into Yunho, to the ATZ ban, to finding out about him and Mina, to hooking up with Seonghwa, to then hooking up with Yunho, to him telling you he loved you (where Keeho just about leapt out of his seat), to the Soul situation, to keeping it all a secret from the outside, to Isla disappearing, to the recruitment dinner…

“You said all of that to her?!” Keeho’s tone was harsh through his teeth, his whisper sharp. When you shrugged he cackled. “Aura, what?!”

“I don’t know if that’s really all of it, it’s blurry,” you said. “But, I think I went in on her. It just kept coming out. I think I was tired of keeping it all a secret.”

“You said she didn’t react?” Keeho asked, and took your nod for an answer. “Aura,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Looking at… all of that,” he spoke slowly, thinking at the same time, “Do you think there’s a chance she, like, knew about you guys already?”

The words should shock you, but they don't. You’ve thought about it already. The way they all huddled up together, aside from Tori and Yuna, making everything seem like one big ploy. Seonghwa sleeping with you, Yunho not getting rid of Mina when he should’ve the second he started harboring feelings for you… If he was even harboring feelings for you.

“And what about Mingi? If Tori knew, and she’s likely to tell her boyfriend everything, did Mingi spill shit to ATZ? But, if ATZ and ITZ were in cahoots this whole time it seems, and Mina already knew, it could’ve been her spilling shit to everyone?”

None of it made sense, even Keeho, who was smarter than Yunho, couldn’t figure it out. All week you’ve been trying to string it together, trying to understand why any of this had to happen. If Yeji wanted to be president so badly, and she had the money to do so, why in the world would she need to ruin your life in the process?

“Have you talked to Tori at all?”

Her name made your stomach start to hurt.

“No,” you said, taking in his understanding gaze full of sorrow. “I can’t talk to any of them, I’m so sick about it. Which makes me want to drop out of the house and run away. They’re… monsters. All of them. She looked at me like she had no idea, Kee, I can say that. It seemed like she and Yuna weren’t in on it, which I can only hope.” Mingi pops into your mind, the way he tried to reach out for Tori before you left, but she swatted him away, pushing him back. You had no reason to not trust Tori, even though she did get really close with Mina fast, and she was dating Mingi who seemed like he was in on it.

If Tori did know, if Tori was in on all of it, it would hurt the most out of everything that's happened to you thus far.

“I don’t know what I want to do,” you said, looking at your father who carried three glasses back to the table. “Dropping out of the house seems ideal, not having to be around all of those girls who don’t want me there anyway.”

“Exactly,” Yeonjun cheered, a smile making its way onto his face. Sliding the glasses onto the table, one for each of you, he sat down and let out a groan as he did. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say all week, Aura.” Keeho grabbed his glass and sipped it, thanking your father with a wink, one that Yeonjun returned.

“Yeah, well, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Taking your second glass, you drink from it and screw your face up. It was stronger than the first. “Jesus, Dad, what’d you tell her to put in here?”

Yeonjun laughed, sitting backward like he was. “I asked for something that’ll make you feel better.”

“Haven doesn’t make drinks like this,” you said, coughing after another sip. “How much did you pay her?”

“Enough,” Yeonjun nodded once, then pointed his eyes at Keeho. “How’s life, Kee? You know, since I saw you last month?”

Laughing, Keeho sipped his drink. “A lot better now that I broke up with my boyfriend.”

Yeonjun’s lips parted in shock. “And this happened when?”

“Two months ago,” you said, looking at your dad who gaped back at you.

Keeho shrugged. “I didn’t want to talk about it when you asked me about him last time.”

Yeonjun moved his chair beneath the table and rested his elbows on the wood, leaning toward your friend who sat across from him. “Well,” your father bobbed his head, “Tell me now.”

The two fell into a deep discussion quickly, Yeonjuns focus on him completely, hanging onto every word of every story Keeho was telling him. He had broken up with his boyfriend of two years, a boy who was holding him back from being a better version of himself. A boy who wouldn’t speak nicely to him or others, a boy who snuck about and would beat around the bush whenever Keeho asked him about anything. It was toxic, and you’re surprised Keeho dealt with him for so long, but he was free now.

Fifteen minutes later, all three drinks gone, they were finally on the break up story when the door to Haven opened and slammed shut. Two boys walked in, possibly around your age, one taller than the other. The tallest had a curly brown mop on his head, the other with longer, shaggier hair tucked beneath a baseball cap. His face was hidden by the shadows, but his body told you that regardless of what his features were he was good looking.

In a black t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, three silver necklaces hung over his chest, one of them a dog tag. His shoulders were wide, his arms rippling with muscle as he walked and said hello to some of the men at the bar. The boy beside him, tall and lanky, had eyes as big as the moon and a smile so welcoming you couldn’t tear your eyes from it. Their energy was captivating, walking into the place like they owned it, the short one’s hips swaying in his walk, a confidence oozing out of his being.

They took to the end of the bar where no one sat, both of them situating themselves on the wooden stools, ordering drinks from the bartender who gave them a friendly smile. They clearly came here often, they spoke to her like they knew her, and when she walked away, they spoke to one another like they were closer than friends, like they knew each other better than that.

The taller one with the curls, he was familiar, that smile like one you’ve seen before, but couldn’t place from where.

It wasn’t until the shorter one took his hat off and pushed his hair back that it all made sense. Your heart skipped a beat. He was good looking, he was gorgeous. A jaw pointed and sharp was home to a charismatic smile living below the sweetest nose and the most beguiling eyes. A beautiful face. A face you and Tori had to zoom in on.

Chan.

Chan and his cousin, Minho, or so you believe. Tori had told you that.

They were closer than friends, they were family.

Mina’s family.

“Aura kinda convinced me that it was time,” Keeho said to your dad who nodded. “Even though I knew it, she gave me the confidence to finally let go of something I was holding onto that was hurting me.” He looked at you with a smile. “Right?”

Nodding, not taking your eyes off of Chan, you rubbed Keeho’s arms and stood up. “Yeah, I’m proud of you,” you mumbled. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go get another drink.”

“Can you get me a-”

You didn’t hear the rest of your fathers question, your feet were on a mission, they had a mind of their own. Bounding for the bar, keeping yourself as calm as possible, though your blood threatened to boil over, you perched yourself on the corner closest to Chan and Minho, the two speaking to one another like they were keeping a secret. The bartender returned, a girl with a name tag that read Hope. Her hair was hanging at her shoulders, naturally curly blonde hair that turned different colors when she walked beneath the different neon colored lights. Your father told you all about this place, the history, apparently it’s always looked the same.

A time capsule of sorts.

“What can I get you?” Hope asked after she brought drinks to the boys. “You’re with him, right?” Her nod toward your father made you smile.

“Yeah,” you said. “Can I have whatever he got me before? Tasted like vodka, I think? I don’t even know what it was.”

Hope laughed. “Of course, give me a minute, I’ll be right back.” She took your glass and whisked herself down the bar, getting to work. Glancing up to the TV, the ballgame nearly over now, you took a deep breath and watched as it cut to the announcers talking about other teams and players. DK appeared on the screen, a photo of him from this past season on the pitcher's mound, his eyes pointed and focused on the batter in front of him. The words along the bottom read like a news story, that he was disappointed his team didn’t make it into the playoffs, but that he was getting much needed family time now, so it was worthwhile.

“Worthwhile,” you muttered, looking away.

So it seemed Isla really was with DK. A part of you longed to stay angry at Yeji for not sharing it with the house, and part of you still felt insanely guilty for not speaking up after Yeji had told you, and apparently only you, that she was leaving.

It didn’t make sense, much like everything else.

But, if Isla was safe, if Isla was happy… it was worthwhile.

“Hey,” a voice so cheerful called out, to you, you think. Glancing to your left, toward the boys where the voice came from, you find them both looking at you.

Jesus, they were prettier than any of the boys in ATZ.

“You go there?” Chan asked, looking at your crewneck. Following his gaze, rolling your eyes at the big Nasara letters across your chest, you shot him a solemn glare and scoffed.

“Unfortunately,” you said, and he started to smile, the corners of his lips perking up into something that would easily persuade you to your knees. It was lazy, yet so effective. “You?” Even though you knew the answer, you asked anyway.

Chan swallowed his smile and shook his head. “Nah, but my sister does,” he said. His eyes you’ve seen before, he wore them like Yeji wore hers, trying to pierce through your own, trying to see through you. Chan’s were less confronting though, he just seemed like he was trying to figure you out. “She’s in a sorority or something.” The boys sipped their beers and acted like they weren’t honed into you, glancing away when neither was speaking.

“ITZ?” you asked, keeping your voice steady, and Chan nodded.

Minho scrunched his nose. “My sister went through them,” he said, and Chan elbowed his bicep. “What?” he snickered, elbowing him back.

“You make it sound like a bad thing, bro,” Chan said, flickering his eyes to you. “You know it? ITZ?”

Settling your lips into a smile, one that made Chan look away for a second, you nodded. “I know of it.” Turning to Minho, you asked, “Why’s it so bad?”

The boy shrugged. “I dunno, forget I said anything,” he mumbled. “I didn’t go to college, so what do I know?”

“Probably plenty,” you said, gaining his attention back. Shocked, his eyes were wide as he looked at you. “People make college out to be something that’s necessary, but I don't really think it is. If you wanna do it, you do it. If you don’t, who cares?”

Minho shared a snicker with Chan. “My mother,” he sneered, then dropped the smile when he turned back to you. “Excellent perspective for someone who’s able to go to Nasara.”

Chan elbowed his cousin again, this time tossing his hands out to the side. “Dude, my dad went to Nasara, what are you getting at?”

Minho simply smirked, then leaned toward you a bit. His eyes were captivating, galaxy filled. “How is it? ITZ?”

Raising a brow, you asked, “How’d you know I’m a part of them?”

Minho narrowed his eyes. “I do now.” Straightening out where you sat, Hope popped back around and brought you your drink. Giving her a small thank you, you peeked at Minho’s smug face and clenched your jaw. “How is it? A dream, I’m sure.”

Wrapping a hand around your cold glass, you found Chan studying you, every inch. “It’s a dream,” you muttered, taking the straw out of the cup, drinking straight from the glass.

“Yeah, I’m sure it is,” Minho said.

Chan waved a hand, confused. “Okay, I don’t get it,” he said, making both of you look at him and his twisted brows. “Mina’s having a great time there, what am I missing? Do I need to be worried?” Your stomach flipped. “Last time I spoke to her, she was fine.”

Minho shrugged, sipping his beer, pointing his attention to the TV.

Chan looked to you for help. “I’m not really good at picking subtle shit up, so you’re gonna have to give it to me straight.”

Taking another gulp from your glass, you set it down with a bang and ran your tongue over your teeth. “Listen, Ch-” His name almost tumbled from your lips, right as you realized that he never told you his name. These boys had no idea who you were, and you were to act like you had no idea who they were. “Mina’s your sister?” He nodded, waiting with an unhuman like patience.

You had two options.

Give it to him straight, like he said, which would out his sister, or you could lie to him, and make it seem like ITZ was a dream, when in reality it was a nightmare. With another gulp of your glass, the liquor seemed to decide for you.

No more lies.

“Okay,” you sighed, Minho now watching you, too. “I kinda lied to you both, in a way. I know you. Mina’s my Vice President.” Chan didn’t move. Minho, though, held back a smile. “Last year, when she was a freshman, she was really quiet. Super sweet, but quiet.” Minho shot his cousin a look and received another elbow to the bicep. “Even when this year started, she was so… nice.”

“Now you’re lying,” Chan muttered, breaking his eyes away to sip his beer. “Mina’s not nice.”

“Chan,” you said steadily, making him look at you with the surprise that you knew his name already. Minho’s smile grew. “No, she’s not. Mina’s not nice.”

“Here we go,” Minho whispered, taking his beer to his full, pink lips. Chan had frozen in place, and though it left you a little uncertain whether or not you should continue, not knowing what would happen, with knowing what you know about this boy…

You kept talking, and it wouldn’t stop.

The words kept coming, the information spewing faster and faster with each gulp of liquor. You left out details they didn’t need to know, details you told Keeho, but they got everything they needed to know.

Everything Chan needed to know.

And, after many, many minutes of him barely blinking as you told him all about his darling little sister and how she’d been acting, what she’d been a part of, you took a long, deep breath, feeling lighter than ever.

Minho nodded once you had finished, the tiniest smirk gracing his lips, like you had reiterated a story he’d heard plenty of times prior to tonight. He uttered the quietest, “Sounds like Mina.”

But, it wasn’t until Chan’s lips parted, to intake a breath, that you finally felt any sort of pure, euphoric satisfaction.

“Why would she lie about me?”

The last two weeks caught up to you, you could’ve broken down in tears, absolute joyful tears, but he spoke again, so you kept it together.

“You’re Aurora,” he said quietly, putting his own puzzle pieces together. “I’ve heard your name before. A few times actually. When she’d talk on the phone to her sorority girls, or whatever, and then when that boy would come over.”

That boy.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said with a sheepish shrug.

“She hates you,” Chan said, filterless.

Rolling your eyes while Minho laughed, you couldn’t help but crack one yourself. “Figures, she’s an accomplice in trying to ruin my life.”

“Aside from the boy thing, I can’t see why she’d try so hard to ruin…” His voice trailed off as he stared at you. “Aurora,” he said, quieter this time. Squishing his brows in the center of his forehead he glances behind you, lifting his chin to peek at where you had come from, back toward Keeho, and your father.

“What?” you questioned, following his line of sight to Keeho and Yeonjun, your dad glancing over at the same time, catching a glimpse of the boys, then quickly turning away. He leaned forward on the table, placing his chin in his hand, hiding part of his face.

“Holy shit,” Chan mumbled. Minho looked back and forth, then landed on you with an unreadable pout of his lips. “That’s your dad, isn’t it?” Gulping, electricity buzzed beneath your skin. Anytime someone brought up your dad, you had to prepare for the worst.

“Yeah,” you said just above a whisper.

Chan tightened his jaw, then settled his gaze on you. “Do you… know who my parents are? I mean, Mina’s parents? I guess mine work too, but, hers make more sense, you’re dealing with her, but, I mean mine make more sense in this situation, ‘cause my dad kicked your dads ass, and-”

“What?” you gasped.

“Our parents know each other,” he said. “You’ve never heard of this before, have you?”

Sitting forward, leaning toward them, you shake your head wildly and laugh aloud. “Do I look I fucking know any of this?”

Minho averted his eyes to the bar. Chan stacked his arms on top of one another and rested them on the bar.

“I think, if I remember it right, your dad was a real jackass,” he said.

Making a face, you got a laugh out of Minho. “Tell me something I don’t know, Chan.” “My parents, Beomgyu and Faden, and his dad, Taehyun,” he paused, hoping a name would trigger something, but alas, you’ve never heard these names a day in your life. “They were all friends, your dad included. Yeonjun, right?” You answered with a meek nod. “Yeah, they were all really close, like through high school and all that, but one day when they were, like, twenty, your dad was an asshole to my mom, so they wrote him off.”

Taking a minute, processing what he’s told you, that you have more history than you think with these boys, with Mina, you rub your eyes and slide your hands down your cheeks with a groan. “So, she’s doing this to me because my dad was an asshole to your mom? What the hell did he do?”

Chan shrugged. “I wish I could tell you, I didn’t hear any details. I just know the vague version. Mina and our mom are pretty close though, you might be able to get it out of her.”

A harsh laugh came from your chest. “Yeah, okay,” you widened your eyes and shook your head. “That bitch won’t be hearing from me ever again.”

“Hey,” Chan lowered his brows. “That bitch is still my sister.”

With a breath, you asked, “You’re gonna tell her all this aren’t you? That I told you?”

“Probably,” he said immediately, and Minho laughed. “But, as much as she’s my sister, I stand by what I said, Mina’s not nice. And, since she had no problem using my disability for her own gain, I can tell you this, to help you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Minho whispered, the sneaky smile appearing on his lips again.

Chan raised his brows and shot his cousin a smirk. “Oh, I would.” He looked at you. “Plus, you’d find this out anyway if you looked for it yourself, but I could give you a headstart, Choi.”

“I don’t wanna hurt anyone, Chan,” you said, which was the whole truth. Revenge was cute, but you don’t think you could stomach anymore drama.

“It won’t hurt her, but I know somebody who’s really good at putting her in her place. Our mom can get so wishy-washy with her, ‘cause we’re girls,” he said in a silly voice, pretending to flip his hair, getting you and Minho to laugh, “But, her dad? Soobin? As much as he is wrapped around her finger, yanno, ‘cause that’s his daughter? He doesn’t let her get away with shit.”

Her dad. The tall one with the glasses in that photo from her high school graduation. The one she said reminded her of Yunho.

“Chan, that’s wonderful and all,” you said and he smiled. “But, in no way am I just going to be able to walk into his home and accuse his daughter of being shitty.”

He shared a look with Minho, then said, “He holds a lecture at Nasara every Monday.”

A chill ran down your spine. “You’re lying.”

He shook his head and cracked a laugh. “I’m so serious,” he said. “Every Monday, sometime in the afternoon, on the law side of the school. He has a friend on the board or something, so either way, no matter which one you go to, you’ll get something done.”

Sliding off the stool, a newfound energy in your veins, you grabbed your almost empty glass and smiled. “Thanks.”

Chan shrugged. “She deserves it after what she did. To you and me. Damn.” Your smile went crooked, and he shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. Sorry you had to hear all about my fucked up brain.” Minho gave him a gentle elbow to the bicep as if to tell him the opposite.

“No, I’m sorry,” you said, and he attempted to smile. “You don’t deserve that. Your own sister should be there to support you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, twisting so he was in line with the bar. He looked away from you and you took that and Minho’s hand planting on his shoulder as a sign to part ways. Your eyes fell to the dog tag around his neck, like they had when they walked in.

Curious, you said, “Your tag,” and he looked over at you, “What’s it for?”

Chan took it between his fingers and held it up. It was covered in writing you couldn’t read from where you stood. “My dad,” he said, reading what was engraved on it. “He got them when he hit ten years of sobriety. It came with two. He gave one to me and my brother.”

You smiled, something soft. “That’s amazing.”

“It is,” Chan breathed, still studying the necklace. Dropping it to his chest, he looked at you. “He’s almost at twenty.” Then, he looked at his beer with only a few sips missing and pushed it away. Minho huffed a laugh and switched their cups, putting his empty one in front of Chan.

“You finished it,” he joked, then drank from his cousin's cup, focusing his eyes on the TV.

“Bye guys,” you said, and Minho gave you a wave with a couple fingers from the hand with the glass in it.

Chan watched you start to walk away, then shouted your name to make you turn. “I’m sorry, too. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” you said. “Maybe I’ll see you again.”

He worked his face into a questionable smile. “How?”

Gesturing around the building, you shrugged. “I have my ways, Choi.”

october 5th ~ saturday ~ 12:15 a.m.

“He said, answer me, Rory, please, let me explain, I can explain,” Keeho read your messages out loud, laying on your bed with his long legs stretched out along your mattress. Using funny voices for each person, he had you laughing from the floor where you were digging through drawers looking for something to wear to bed since everything was in your drawers over at Nasara.

“I should just block him,” you said, and Keeho threw a fist in the air.

“I second that,” he said. “Let’s do that!”

Nearly breaking your neck to look at him, you threw out a hand. “No!”

The look he gave you made you giggle. “And, why not?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “I wanna see how much he begs.”

Keeho’s eyes widened as he flipped to his stomach on your baby blue comforter. “Aura, you take your men submissive.”

With a huff you turned back to the beige drawers you’ve had since birth. “Not in the slightest.” It was give and take for you, unless you were with Seonghwa apparently, and mother of god, you’re lucky he didn’t ruin you for life.

Your beaten up white wooden door creaked open and Yeonjun poked his head inside. He glanced from Keeho on your bed pushed in the corner, to you on the floor a few feet away from him. The ceiling fan spun on a low speed, making the yellow light from the old bulbs flash in a way that would keep you busy as a baby as your dad would say.

“Yes?” you questioned, and he popped a smile on his face.

“You staying?” he asked Keeho.

“I think so,” he mumbled, looking up from your phone only once. “We’ve got a lot to work through here.”

“Okay,” Yeonjun said, making a face to signify his understanding, letting Keeho get back to your messages. Looking back at you he said, “No funny business in here.”

“Dad, it’s Keeho, he sleeps here all the time,” you deadpanned, and he laughed.

“I know, I know,” he said, stepping into the room for a moment. “Had to tease, I miss having you guys here.”

“I second that,” Keeho said, his tone flat, though you know he meant it with all of his being. Yeonjun glanced at him and laughed to himself. The boy didn’t even look up from your phone.

“Goodnight,” he said, then smiled at you. “I love you.”

A comfort washed over you. “I love you, too.” He went to pull the door shut, stepping out into the hall, but then you called him back. “Dad?”

“Yes, Aura,” he said, looking down at you.

Swallowing, suddenly feeling like your throat had closed and you wouldn’t be able to get the words out, you whispered, “Did you know those boys at the bar? Chan and Minho?” He was silent. Thinking. “Do you know who Beomgyu is?” A breath corrupted his lungs. “Taehyun?” Blinking a mile a minute, he averted his eyes to your carpeted floor. “Faden?”

It took him a second, but he managed to say, “Yes, I did. I knew them. Not the boys at the bar, but I assumed they… belonged to some of them, the names you said. They look just like them.” You wondered if it were true for you too, if you looked anything like your father. Or, your mother.

“Mina,” you said, and he looked at you, his eyes now wider than they normally would be. “She’s Faden’s daughter. Faden and Soobin’s daughter.” “Soobin,” he whispered. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“When’s the last time you saw any of them?”

He stuttered a bit before he said, “It’s been a really long time, Aura.” Things went quiet for a second, then he asked, “The boys tonight, who do they belong to?”

“Chan, the one with dark hair, he’s Beomgyu and Faden’s son. He’s a twin,” you said, and Yeonjun tipped his chin upward, his lips curling into some type of smile, like he knew something you didn’t, and shouldn’t know. “Minho, the other one, some guy Taehyun is his dad.”

Your father met your eyes with a fierceness. “Who’s his mom?” he asked, and when you shrugged he laughed aloud.

“Holy shit,” he sighed, taking a long breath after his laughter subsided. “Those motherfuckers.” Letting him mumble to himself, you gave him another goodnight as he circled around and went to pull your door shut. “Those crazy ass motherfuckers.”

“Aura,” Keeho said, wanting your attention. Pulling sweatpants from high school out of your drawer, you stood up and took two steps to your bed, dropping the pants on Keeho’s lap. There was little space to put them elsewhere. “Who is ‘ignore this jerk’?”

Shimmying out of your jeans, you breathe through a laugh and jump into the sweats you brought over. “Wooyoung, why?” Reaching up a hand to pull on the string hanging from the light on your ceiling, the room falls dark. Climbing over Keeho, wedging yourself between him and the wall you pop your chin on his chest to look at your phone with him. “Guess I should change his name now, huh?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘hi’,” Keeho said, then gave you a funny look. Snatching the phone from him you groaned and started typing back to him. “Who says hi anymore? Who does he think he is?”

“We’ve been talking, Kee, since Saturday night,” you mumbled and Keeho flipped to his side dramatically, facing you. Tucking his hands beneath his cheek on your pillows he exhaled heavily.

“Enlighten me,” he said.

“There’s nothing,” you said, shrugging with your hands, the light from your phone screen bouncing off his sharp features. “We just check in on each other. I’ve seen him in passing. Nothing more. He’s been living with his cousin in Delo, I think.”

[ignore this jerk]: hi

[you]: hi

[ignore this jerk]: how was your day

[you]: it was alright, had something interesting happen, how was yours

[ignore this jerk]: same here, had something interesting happen

[ignore this jerk]: you go first

[you]: it’s a lot, are you sure

[ignore this jerk]: …

The bubbles vanished as quickly as they’d popped up. Then, ‘Incoming Call: ignore this jerk’ was lighting up your phone screen. Keeho almost screeched.

“Answer it, answer it, answer it.” He said it about seventy more times.

“I’m in bed,” you sneered.

Keeho rolled his eyes, “Yeah, with me, answer it.“

“No! I will not do this to myself right now, I can’t handle anymore-“

Keeho took it upon himself to slide his finger over the green answer button, cutting you right off. Your heart lodged up into your throat as Wooyoung appeared on the screen, lit up by warm, dim light. He wasn’t looking when you appeared, his side profile on display. His nose on display. Tanned skin, dark hair in waves exposing his forehead, he wore a black cutoff tee and silver studs in his ears.

“Oh my god,” Keeho muttered out of sheer gay panic. Slapping a hand over his mouth, Wooyoung turned to his phone and gave you a small smile.

“Who was that?” he asked, walking himself around whatever room he was in. Glaring at Keeho, you turned the phone to put your friend in the little box, and Wooyoung laughed. “Am I interrupting something?”

“God, no,” you said, and Keeho let out his own laugh. “This is Keeho, he lives down the street. We’ve known each other since we were eleven.”

“That’s cool,” Wooyoung said, looking at the screen, finally finding a spot to settle. “Hi, Keeho.” Your friend uttered the smallest hi, and you wanted to lose your shit. Who says hi anymore? “So, you’re home, then?”

“I am,” you said. “I haven’t been in the house since Sunday.”

Wooyoung popped his brows. “What’s Tori have to say about that?”

“No idea,” you mumbled. “Keeho’s been reading through my messages I haven’t opened all week. We haven’t gotten to Tori’s yet.”

“I’m sure it’ll be crazy when you do,” Wooyoung pushed his lips to the side.

You didn’t even want to think about it. “What’s so interesting that happened to you today?” Changing the subject, Wooyoung didn’t seem to care. He glanced up and around the space he was in, and smiled.

“I, uh, got an apartment,” he said, smiling at you.

“Holy shit?” you gasped, sitting up, leaving Keeho behind on your pillows. Pushing your hair from your face, you twisted so you could place your back against the dark blue wall. “Where at? Delo?”

Wooyoung nodded, looking around the room. “Yeah,” he said, proud as ever. “It’s ten minutes from school, a few blocks from my cousin. He helped me find it, we’ve been looking for a day or so, and this place just fell into my lap. He says I got lucky.” The smile that couldn’t leave his lips was triggering your own.

“You got lucky,” you said. “I’m happy for you, that’s really great. You deserve it after what’s happened.”

“Thanks, Ro,” he said. “You should come see it. I kinda wanna talk to you anyways. Just you.” Shifting your gaze to Keeho, he placed a hand playfully beneath his chin and smirked.

“I think we definitely need to talk,” you said, looking at the screen, trying to ease the way your heart was beating. “Sort this mess out.”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

It was quiet for a few seconds, you and Wooyoung just gazing at one another through the phone screen until Keeho tapped his foot to your thigh, pulling you from your thoughtless daydream.

“I, uh, I gathered some, um, interesting information tonight,” you said, and Wooyoung adjusted himself in his seat like he pulled himself out of the same thoughtless daze at the sound of your voice.

“Yeah?” he questioned, glancing away for a moment. “Like what?”

You told him what you found out through Chan. Really, you rambled, the buzz still evident in your body, and it was like he could tell with the way he giggled at some of the things you would say, or the words you would use. You spilled it all, and by the end of it all, he was leaning into the screen, his eyes unable to look elsewhere.

“Keeho, you were here for all of this?” Wooyoung asked.

Turning the phone to show your friend, he shot the phone a thumbs up and Wooyoung sighed. “Don’t believe me, Wooyo?” You turned the phone back to your face and found him surprised. “What?”

“You… Uh, I haven’t heard you say that in a long time, that’s all,” he said, his volume dropping astronomically. You couldn’t remember the last time you called him that, the nickname rolled off your tongue with such ease you didn’t even see it coming yourself. “So, what are we gonna do? We gonna go talk to this Soobin dude, or what?”

“Do it!” Keeho shouted, making you and Wooyoung laugh.

“Ro?” Wooyoung asked, one of his brows perking up.

Glancing between Keeho and your phone, you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let’s do it.”

october 7th ~ monday ~ 8:03 a.m.

It happened like a movie, like the rest of your life had been apparently. One shoe on, you hopped on one foot toward the front door slipping the other on your foot, almost tripping and face planting onto the floor. He texted you that he was here, waiting outside in a car you’ve been in only a few times before when he’d driven you around for a date here or there. You weren’t sure why you were nervous, or why the feeling was so large within you.

It was Wooyoung. You’ve done this before. He wasn’t anything to you at the moment, if anything, he was a friend. Or, trying to be, you think.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder you grabbed onto the doorknob to the front door and yanked it open, spotting him down by the curb in the blacked out BMW. All four windows were tinted, you couldn’t see him in the driver's seat which only worsened the feeling in your gut. You felt like a teenager getting a ride from her high school crush, it was somewhat humiliating.

Even more so when your dad appeared around the corner by the kitchen.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you?” he asked, leaning against the edge of the wall where the kitchen met the hallway to the bedrooms. Turning toward him, you smushed your lips together and let out a sigh.

“I’m sure,” you whispered. “We’re going to go talk to Soobin today.”

Yeonjun curled his lip, pushing himself off the wall. Taking slow strides toward you, he folded his arms over his chest. “Enjoy him. Last I heard of him he’s a stuck up son of a bitch.”

You wanted to laugh, and you did a bit, but you frowned. “Dad, you don’t know him, don’t talk about him like that.”

Yeonjun furrowed his brows, looking you up and down. “His daughter is terrorizing my daughter.” He narrowed his eyes. “My very smart daughter who doesn’t let anybody treat her like this.”

With a breath, you said, “That’s why we’re going to talk to him.”

Darting his eyes to the glass door behind you, eyes gobbling up the BMW, Yeonjun looked back at you. “That’s Wooyoung? The guy who started this entire thing?”

“He didn’t start it,” you said. “Well, I mean, he kinda did, but he didn’t mean to. Yunho, remember?”

Yeonjun twisted his brows and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t keep track, Aura, what did I say about getting involved with the boys?”

Breathing through a laugh, you groaned soon after. “It’s over, all of it, I promise. No more boys.” Dropping his hands, he gave you a curious look, glanced to the car once more, then smirked.

“Sure,” he said. “Be careful.”

“I will,” you nodded. “We will.” Turning toward the door, you looked back over your shoulder at his smile. “Don’t get arrested again.”

“Aura!” he shouted while you laughed, following you out of the front door and onto the porch. “That was one time! You were ten!”

Walking down the lawn backwards, you held out your arms and grinned. “One time too many!”

Swatting your words away with his hand, he watched you as you spun around and yanked on the door handle, pulling the door open to the leather interior and a boy sitting in the driver's seat, waiting for you with a small smile. Looking past you, to your dad on the porch, Wooyoung held up a hand to wave, and thankfully, thankfully, Yeonjun gave him one back.

Saying your last goodbye, you pulled the door shut and sank down into your seat, feeling entirely out of place in the incredibly neat car. It smelled like cherries, and every crevice of the dash was sparkling. You knew the boy driving would look even better, you felt too nervous to even sneak a peek at him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked with a small laugh.

“Nothing,” you breathed. Your dad took himself back inside, leaving the two of you to go off on your endeavors. “I think I feel nervous to do this.”

Wooyoung settled his lips into a smile and faced the steering wheel, grasping the shifter with his right hand. “You’re allowed to be nervous. This stuff is wild.”

Pulling out of your neighborhood, one he’s definitely not used to though he wouldn’t show it, he took you out onto the main road and started for Nasara. From the southside of Tamoe to Delo, it took about an hour, and then once you were into Delo it took another half hour to get onto campus. Settling back in your seat, getting yourself comfortable, your lungs tighten in your chest at the realization that you were going to be stuck here with him for an hour and a half. The longest you’d have spent with him, sober, since last semester.

As if he could hear your thoughts, he looked over at you. “Ro, what’s up?”

Rubbing your hands over your thighs, you took a breath and shrugged, keeping your focus forward. “Nothing, just thinking about what I’m gonna tell him.”

Wooyoung curved his brows upward, focusing back on the road. When it got quiet, it was suffocating. He was here next to you. He drove an hour or so to your house, to pick you up, to bring you to school when your dad could’ve done it for you. The last time you’d seen him in person, maybe Thursday, in passing while walking to a business lecture where he told you he’d been passing you every Thursday since the semester started, you just never noticed. You’ve never had so much time to say so much, and it was overwhelming.

“Ro,” Wooyoung said again after a minute or so of silence aside from the radio.

“Fine,” you gritted your teeth and twisted in your seat, pulling your legs up onto the leather seat, fighting with the seatbelt in the process. Adjusting accordingly, frustratingly so, you tossed your hair backward once you were situated and groaned, finally looking at him and his amused little smile.

“Better?” he questioned with a subtle laugh.

Expressing your annoyance with an audible sigh, you clasped your hands together and placed them in your lap. “You want me to go off? I’ll go off.” With both hands, you shoved his shoulder and he gasped, grasping the wheel with both hands. “Fuck you. I cannot fucking believe that you’d do that to me. Do you know how embarrassing it was? Me and Tori walking into that bedroom to that?!” He shot you a confused look, bracing himself for impact again as he slowed at a red light.

“You and Yeji? After everything we shared all year, this is how you treat me? Sleeping with her? For what, Wooyoung, for what!” He hid his smile amidst your shouts, catching on quickly. Keeping quiet, he let you go off. “You piece of shit, you know everyone warned me, right? I should’ve fucking listened, that Jung Wooyoung doesn’t have a loyal bone in his body. I didn’t believe them, but guess who fucking does now?”

Taking a breath, a laugh threatened to sneak through, and it almost did. It wasn’t until Wooyoung laughed first that yours boiled over and you lost it. Leaning against the seat, covering your face with your hands, you let out a sound of relief and looked up at him, baring his teeth, his laugh echoing within the tight space.

“How- How long have you been waiting to say that?” Catching his breath, he calmed himself the best he could as the traffic in front of him pulled away.

“Too long,” you said, shaking your head. “Months. Can you tell I had it rehearsed?” Wooyoung laughed again, loud, bobbing his head. “You really hurt me, yanno?”

He looked at you for as long as could while he drove, his smile wiping away in an instant. “I know,” he said. “And, I’m sorry. I’ll always be sorry, I don’t even know what to do to fix it all, but I promise you I’m gonna try.”

Glancing at the road, then finally allowing yourself to take in his appearance, the boy dripping in black and silver, you solemnly smiled. “Last Saturday was a huge help.”

He huffed, shaking his head. “You can’t forgive me that fast, Ro. It was all so shitty, who the fuck does something like that?”

“Somebody who’s also hurting,” you said just above a whisper, shutting him up. He pulled his lips between his teeth and attempted to hide his sigh, but it was heard. “I’m sorry. You deserved better.”

“Whoa,” he said, screwing his face up. “No, don’t say that, are you kidding?” He met your eyes, another red light. The power within him was staggering. “I had the best. You understand that?” The small shake of your head could’ve physically pained him. “God, I could kill them all,” he muttered, facing the road to move with the other cars. “Ro, don’t let them make you feel like that. You used to be so carefree, you couldn’t give two shits about what someone said about you.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

Wooyoung glanced at you, his eyes pointed. “It’s you. That’s what made me fall for you in the first place, are you kidding? You’re so different from any of those girls in that house.”

“I’m not like other girls,” you said, and his laugh made you laugh.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

Letting your eyes drag over his body, you said, “I don’t think I do. We never talked like this.”

“That’s the problem,” Wooyoung snapped a finger and let it fall onto the shifter. “We never talked like this, no one there does, we were doing what everyone else was doing, we were following a socially constructed system that does nothing for true connection.” Your silence made him look at you, and when he found your parted, surprised lips he smiled.

“You are smart,” you joked, and he shrugged, smug. “I knew you were smart, I hope you know that.”

“I do know,” he whispered, giving you a look.

“You sociology major, you,” you whispered back, smiling. He shared it with you for a second only.

“Ugh,” he groaned, looking at the road. “That’s also why I feel all the more shitty for doing what I did, because I knew what it would do to your brain, scientifically. And, I feel even worse for standing by, watching it happen. I could’ve ended it all so much faster, but I had faith that you’d figure it out, but it only got worse each time I saw you.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to laugh. “Yeah, I fell into Seonghwa.”

Wooyoung tried to laugh with you. “Shoulda stepped in then, that’s how you know it’s going downhill.” Reaching out a hand, you put it over his where he worked the shifter, changing gears as he drove through Soro now. His breath hitched in his chest at your touch. “Ro, I know I said something Saturday night, but you were drunk, and I don’t know how much of that night you fully processed.”

Dragging your thumb over his olive skin, you felt the corner of your lips prick up. “That I may have gotten over you, but you’re not over me?” He released a breath like he’d been holding it in since you sat down. “Wooyo,” you whispered, and he turned his chin quickly, his eyes full of hope. “I’m not over you.”

His hand beneath yours flipped over, his fingers lacing between yours as he took the slowest deep breath. The car came to a stop and he laid his head back on his seat, closing his eyes for a few seconds.

“I feel so silly,” he whispered. Giggling, he opened his eyes to shoot you a glare. “Don’t laugh at me.” Holding up your hand he was holding, you smiled behind your hands and got him to laugh. “You did this to me, I have never felt this, ever.”

“Like a teenager?” you offered, and his eyes went wide.

“Yes!” he shouted, throwing his head back with a groan. “Since I first saw you, Ro. When we were at the recruitment dinner, three years ago. We were freshmen.” He moved your hands toward you, “You were a pretty freshman,” he moved your hands toward himself, “I was a horny freshman.” Your giggle made him smirk. “We were at ATZ, somehow, and the moment I saw you in the group I just… You know which way my brain went first.”

“Of course,” you whispered, dancing your thumb over his skin. “I can tell you I was thinking the same things.”

He gave you that wide eyed look. “You were a horny freshman, too?!”

You laughed together. “‘Course I was, Wooyo, we were eighteen years old and let loose in a house full of boys like yourself, what do you think we’d be thinking about?”

Thinking to himself, he shrugged. “I dunno, innocent things, I guess.”

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, grinning wide. “What Tori and Mingi did that night was far from innocent.” The mention of your best friend pulled at your heart.

“I know, I know,” Wooyoung brushed it off. “That entire year though, I couldn’t figure it out. Girls don’t make me nervous, they make me the opposite, actually.”

“We know,” you whispered, and he tried to wiggle his fingers out of yours, but you held him captive.

“You,” he said through his teeth. “You scared me.” He glanced at you and cringed. “Still kinda do.” This time you did get your hand free, and you shoved him like you did that first time. “Stop! I’m on the road, Ro!” You both laughed. Taking your hands back to yourself, he placed his over the shifter and sighed. “Want me to pull over? Then you can beat me to your heart's content?”

“I wouldn’t ever do that,” you said, touching his hand again. “Keep talking.”

“It was easy to be your friend at first. You already knew Yunho and Seonghwa, so that made it easier to approach you, when you were already talking to them, or hanging around them. I had a buffer, I could bounce off of them.”

“And you bounced,” you scoffed, and a cocky look spread about his face. “Do you know how crazy you would act? Freshman year? Even into our sophomore year, until we were a thing?”

“It’s ‘cause I liked you,” he said, nodding. “I wanted to impress you, I guess. Wanted your attention.”

“Well, it worked.”

“It did,” he said. “For a little bit.” Your lips formed a pout, one he took his fingers to to mess it up, to make it go away. “Stop,” he whispered. “You didn’t even know.”

“That’s the thing, Wooyoung,” you said. “How did I not know? How did I not see… any of it. You, him, anything?”

The car came to a stop and he faced you. His hand slipped over your cheek, his thumb dragging along your cheekbone. “Socially constructed system. You were wound up in the fun of it all, you weren’t really paying attention, and that’s okay. I, unfortunately, have been blessed with a very emotionally intelligent mother, so I can… see it all. I’m aware.”

Your throat tightened. Begging yourself not to cry, not now, you gulped it away and asked, “How the hell do you have the reputation that you do?”

Blinking, he studied your face. “People see what they want to see. Look at San,” you both giggled, “Worlds biggest slut, and he knows it, but what do people see? The, probably hundreds now, body count? Or, the big, adorable, ditzy baby that is San?” He was right.

“I see the slut,” you whispered, and he smirked. “But, I get it, I also see the ditzy baby.”

You both realized he was touching you at the same time. Intaking a breath, you froze, and so did he. His fingers, soft, gentle on your skin, came to a stop. The air around you caved in, everything about this moment becoming so increasingly overwhelming, and heavy, like there was only one thing to do to get rid of that awful itch beneath your skin whenever he looked at you. You knew he could feel it too, you could see it in the way he clenched his jaw. God, you could jump on him, and you wanted to, and you knew he wanted you to.

A car behind you honked, pulling you both from that, now one thought, daze. Jumping a mile, you both twisted forward, Wooyoung moving along with the traffic around you. It took a couple seconds, but you both started to laugh.

After a few minutes of regaining your composures, Wooyoung asked, “Do you still believe them?”

Turning your chin, you looked at him and raised a brow. “What?”

“That I’m a piece of shit who doesn’t have a loyal bone in his body,” he whispered. “You said you believed them, then, I mean. What about now?” He gave you that hopeful look. “Do you still believe them?”

Reaching a hand over to mess with a few of his waves, smiling at the way it affected him, you toyed with his hoop earrings and shook your head. “I don’t,” you whispered, and his smile warmed your heart. “I believe you, I think, for now. Which is scaring me, just ‘cause of all that’s happened. So, please?”

He tilted his head. “Please?”

“Please be telling the truth.”

Taking your hand in his, he pressed his lips to the back of yours before he started to drive, whispering over your skin, “I promise.”

NU home ✧ nice for what masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

PARTY FAVOURS | CHAPTER 1

Rating: Explicit. 18+

‼️TW: Reader is EIGHTEEN! Recreational drug use, smoking and alcohol consumption, deeply internalised self-loathing, very questionable moral standards. Daddy kink taken half-seriously. BDSM themes in later chapters - explicit content will come with it's own TWs. FIRST PERSON POV.

Summary: You're Peter's classmate, a child of rich and famous but uncaring parents. Getting paired up for a lengthy project with the boy was an interesting turn of events and you don't know whether to feel blessed or cursed when you develop, seemingly, a perfectly normal, harmless crush on Tony Stark. Fueled by feelings of inadequacy and boredom, your life spirals out of control - and you're lucky your newfound friends are there to pick up the pieces even if you cannot find it in yourself to believe these amazing human (and not so human) beings voluntarily give you more than a fleeting glance and an offhanded thought. And they brought cake!

A/N: Bad girls are sad girls! Always wondered what goes through the mind of a spoiled, rich but intelligent and perceptive teenager? Have you found yourself craving that adrenaline rush, the danger of a forbidden fruit? Okay. That was cheesy as hell. Gross.

Let's try again. Sarcasm? Check. Vine references? Hell yes! Crude humour? Check. Blunt honesty? Double check. We're living in a Lana del Rey song, ladies.

The author doesn't actually condone codependent relationships in real life. This is a filthy little fantasy. Enjoy, deviants.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings

Beta read by the lovely and patient @miscmarvelwritings ! She deserves all the love 💙

Pining. I was pining after Stark and it made me upset. I thought I was better than that. Better than acting the part of a lovesick puppy, begging for scraps of attention- a kind word, a pat on the shoulder, a blanket thrown over me in my sleep. Even if he was my Mount Olympus, I wasn't exactly on board with starting the whole damn journey in the first place.

Most of all, I hated being a cliché. I tried my best to avoid showing how I felt and with time, I think I excelled at it. I am really good with things if I really put my mind to it. Was it a blessing, or was it a curse? Only the future will tell. I try not to think about it, as I prefer not to stress out too much. Peter was the anxious kid and I was the calm one. I was the Ying to his Yang. He flipped his shit often and I always calmed him down and cleaned up after him. No complaints there, Pete is pure and precious and I would kill everybody and then myself if he actually got hurt.

I'm only a year older than him and that year feels like an uncrossable bridge to me. We get along like a house on fire and I delight in the way he starts smiling when we're paired together for a project. Deep inside I'm sure he thinks of me as one of his best friends, his homies but-and there's always a but-I can't reciprocitate that. He goes to decathlon after school with his wholesome BFF duo, I go to a local dive bar with a fake ID I'd made sometime when I was about 15.

Peter has everything I wish I've ever had. Good for him. I'm not going to mess that up, no matter how much my angst demands I throw a tantrum and become, like, a supervillain or something.

I banter, instead. I chit-chat. I laugh and I repeatedly make a joke out of myself. Nobody suspects a thing, and I'm not surprised. People always see what they want to see. I've been the weird loner since middle school. Not the sad kind, of course, my pride wouldn't let me. I'm too good at things to be completely ignored. Teachers adore me, the event planning committee approaches me every year with tentative pleas for advice. The list goes on and on; what they don't understand is that it's just High School. Another year and I'll be out of there and nobody will be wiser.

I feel like a liar every time I'm excited. Because I'm not that - I don't care about their stupid field trips or collaborative projects. My mind is five steps and two hops ahead of that bullshit. It has to be or I just won't make it in the world.

"Parker-pen, Mr. Stark. G'day, sirs," I nodded, entering the lab, looking straight ahead. They both were hunched over... Something vaguely mechanical and I was terribly, horribly hungover. Saturday night was Science night but I'd gone to bed around 2PM after a party ran way too late.

"Hi," and "Powerpuff girl," came from them respectively, and they didn't even lift their heads.

I wondered if I could just skedaddle and leave them to their big brain time. "Is this a bad time? I can come tomorrow instead," I immediately regretted speaking, even to my own ears my voice sounds scratchy.

"No, actually, Dr. Ban-Bruce-wanted to talk to you," Peter mumbled out half-coherently. Tony kept ignoring me and I was fine with that. The less temptation I have the less trouble there will be.

"I'm not playing with his zucchini again," I groaned, causing the intricate pile of metal to squeak sadly as Pete tripped over his own damn body, jostling the prototype in the process. I could have sworn the room got several degrees hotter from the boy's blush alone.

Tony cackled, shuffling away from the newly ruined prototype. "He won the damn contest, you should've seen the judges faces," The engineer's grin threatened to split his face in half. I poked at my phone in muted interest. "Hold up, Friday has a recording. I definitely recorded the thing."

A holo-screen popped up. Tranquil scenes of a local fair, gourds and other assorted vegetables of various grotesque sizes were scattered throughout the square. An unmistakable mop of curly greying hair posed proudly next to a zucchini half the size of Hulk - I was fairly certain genetically engineering the plant was cheating and warned him so but somehow Banner managed to persuade the judges into letting him participate, and ultimately win, the competition for the Biggest Zucchini. Some of them were quite shocked at the size of that thing and well - well, their glances were quite contemplative to say the least.

"Damn, Tony, that blonde chick's face tells me all I need to know," I gave a lopsided smirk in the engineer's general direction. That was our thing, you see? He called me these ridiculous cutesy nicknames and asked me about getting my nails done or going to the mall and I'd make salacious comments and go on an occasional flirtatious spree. That was comfortable. We both enjoyed making Peter blush and giggle like the little schoolboy that he was.

"Our Brucie bear is a freak, don't let him tell you any different, Princess," Tony winked at me.

"Oh, I know all about it, Tones," I suggestively wiggled my eyebrows. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Peter groan and palm his face. I briefly bumped my knuckles to Tony's outstretched hand and made my way to the adjacent lab that hosted the second resident crazy scientist.

"Bruce?"

"Oh, hi there, come on in," He smiled warmly at me and I relaxed, shrugging off the tension in my limbs that seemed to appear every time Tony was around me. Banner's soft, friendly nature always made me feel welcomed and appreciated.

We made small talk as I threw on a lab coat and some protective glasses and discarded my bag in the far corner, away from any possible explosions. I congratulated him on his recent victory - here is when I say that despite what most will say, Banner has a serious competitive mean streak and isn't afraid to get down and dirty when it comes to matters of his personal pride.

That's what makes us alike, I think. I have too much dignity and self-respect to walk around Tony with stars in my eyes and hang around his neck like yesterday's tie.

The quiet, even pace of doing lab work made me completely lose track of time. Some time passed as I felt the crick in my neck become noticeable, and the deep ache in my calves from standing and dancing yesterday worsened. I hopped onto the nearest table, hunched over a tablet, eyes skimming over research articles - most of it didn't register at all in the wake of a dull throb behind my temples. My hair limply hung over my face - I had to wash it to get rid of the stench-hard liquor and cigarettes - but I was way too lazy to style it properly.

I ignored the swaying strands until a large palm gently tucked them behind my ear, a white lab coat coming into my field of view. "You okay?" Banner's quiet voice interrupted my reading. I lifted eyes enough to see he was wearing a dorky button-up in some gross shade of blue under the lab coat. His eyes were affectionate behind thinly rimmed glasses.

"Rough Friday night?" He questioned.

I chuckled. "Yeah, I'm hungover as fuck." There was no point in hiding the obvious; I'm sure the bags under my eyes already had tattled on me.

He chuckled, too, leaning his hip against the table, one broad arm coming to wrap around me in a hug. Usually he wasn't so touchy-feely; but I wasn't complaining. Banner was really, really warm. "I'll spare you the lecture on underage drinking," He said with another chuckle.

"Yeah, it's pretty pointless. You'd be three years too late."

A deep sigh left him, both of his arms wrapping around me in a comfortable embrace. I rested my chin on his shoulder, trying my best to really avoid showing how touch-starved I was. I was a hundred percent sure they all figured out my family life was difficult; the last thing I needed was their pity.

"Y'know, we should sit down and talk someday," He said after a brief moment of hesitation. "About your future. College, maybe?"

I gave a non-committal hum, basking in the warmth of the hug, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes - behind the glass divide, I could faintly distinguish Tony's and Peter's shapes, still bent over that bench the pile of metal.

"You have a lot of potential," Banner continued, his tone developing a gently admonishing hint. "I understand if you want to take some time off from your studies but I'd rather you succeed and not let all that potential go to waste," He finished, patting me on the back with a gentle hand.

I tried not to preen under his touch. "Are you attempting to guilt-trip me over a party, doctor Banner?" I teased him, expecting the smile that I felt being hidden by my hair. Sometimes I felt that I could read the man like an open book, he was so earnest about his interactions.

"I just - we want you to stay safe, okay? Don't blow your future for a little bit of fun," He shrugged carefully.

"Okay, Bruce," I simply replied, meaning it this time

He kept hugging me, running his hand over my back absentmindedly. Probably thinking about his recent science bender. I wasn't upset: my own brain tended to get tangled in personal projects, too. I had only one complaint and it was that the cuddle was making me sleepy.

I yawned, startling the man. Pulling away from the hug wasn't really an option. He was broad and quite strong, probably courtesy of the Hulk and radiation in his blood.

"Why don't we put you in a guest room for tonight?" He inquired and I nodded. "Call your parents for me, okay?"

"My mother is in Vancouver for the week and I doubt she would care anyway," I rolled my eyes. "She's in the middle of some shitstorm with OsCorp and their marketing department." If anything, I was grateful my mother was preoccupied with her job. Being around her was like hanging out on top of an iceberg in the far end of the ocean.

I felt Bruce's frown. His body tensed briefly, blink and you'll miss the hunch of his shoulders. "What about your dad?"

I cringed. "He's been in Ibiza since the season opened, no doubt snorting miles of coke and... " I hesitated. "You can guess the rest."

My dad was kind of a dick, but I don't blame him at all for being the way he is. My parents have been married for twenty years. They were happy, once - I saw their college pictures with my mother's bright smiles and bushy hair, and my dad's terrible fashion sense and their dog, a funny little runt with an atrocious name. Then mother had me and for a while, they were happy too, but it lasted about until she landed her first prospective job. Kind of cliché.

Bruce sighed again. "Okay. You hungry?"

"No, I'm not going near food until tomorrow. Nu-uh," I fake-retched next to his ear, making Bruce shiver and playfully pinch my side.

"It'll help with your hangover. Doctor's advice."

"You're not even that kind of doctor," I laughed, very gently poking him back, somewhere around his stomach. He squirmed.

"I have seven PhDs," Bruce smiled as he rested his chin on top of my head as he adjusted his torso to prevent my fingers from reaching his ticklish spots. I poked him again in retaliation, fully enjoying the snort and squirm I caused. Soft™. "Let's go get you settled in," Bruce, seemingly without any difficulty, picked me up, propping me against his hip like a toddler. It probably looked awkward but what the hell, I haven't been carried around since I can remember myself. My legs wrapped around his hips for balance, butt resting on his forearm.

"You're a showoff," I couldn't help but snort, getting a lopsided smirk in return.

He made his way over to the elevator with me dangling and examining my nails in an expectant fashion. Tony's jokes aside, I really enjoyed getting them done and weird colors were a quest of entertainment for me. I obviously couldn't have them very long because I worked in a lab so I chose outrageous prints and decorations instead. This week, each of my nails had a different style - thankfully my aesthetician was professional enough to make it look somewhat put together even if it took a good chunk of my allowance and an hour long Uber ride to get to her salon.

I noticed the dimmed lights in Tony's lab and none of Peter's usual mess scattered on the tables, figuring he'd already left. Stark himself stood propped against a table, watching something, smoothie in hand.

For only a brief moment, I let my eyes rake over his body, his beautiful, sculpted physique hugged by a pair of fitted jeans and an old Led Zeppelin tee. Tony's handsomeness wasn't obvious, it wasn't in-your-face kind of appearance like Captain America's, but the engineer was built sturdy and his arms - the only bare part of him - were riddled with scars. He used his strong, bulky body for work.

I turned away before I got too ahead of myself. Bruce smelled like lab equipment and rubbing alcohol, something that made me sober up and snap out of my daydream before Stark took notice and started teasing me about ogling him. My once-over lasted barely three seconds yet with Tony's genius, I always had to be on my toes.

I saw movement in my peripheral. Banner waved before entering the elevator - at Tony, probably, so I looked back, seeing the man watching us, content replaced with a contemplating frown. I waved at him, resting my cheek on Bruce's shoulder. "Tony's having a big mood," I noted quietly in the scientist's ear.

"You know Tony," Bruce sighed, adjusting his hold on me as the car ascended to the housing floors. "His brain runs a mile a minute and he can't make sense of it for the biggest part. Give him some time and he'll be back to his annoying self."

I didn't see Tony as annoying in any way, but then again, I was severely biased. The billionaire was quirky venturing into absurd but also clever and brilliant.

We had reached our destination and Bruce carefully set me down on my feet once the door to my room was open. A large queen bed, TV and another door to an adjacent bathroom. It was really simple but luxurious nonetheless - I had the exact same carpet at home, having heard my mother bitch about it's cost after seeing me spill soda on it way too many times.

"I'll let you get settled in. Ask Friday if you need something," Bruce awkwardly shuffled his feet, taking off his glasses and briefly examining them before putting them back on again. "Breakfast here is on the 74th floor starting around 7AM, someone will probably get you around nine if you sleep in," He finished, giving a shy tilt of his lips.

"Thanks, Brucie-bear," The nickname easily slipped from my lips. I didn't resist the urge to hug the kind scientist, quickly wrapping my arms around his middle, delightfully sighing when he immediately returned the gesture.

"Good night, Princess," I had to suppress a happy squeak when the man kissed my forehead before retreating and closing the door behind himself. A quick shower and a quest to find a power outlet to plug my charger into preceded my less than graceful flop into the bed. It felt like sleeping on a cloud, honestly, it had nothing on my mother's orthopaedic memory foam mattresses. I passed out faster than I’d ever had.

#Bun writes #party favours #Tony Stark x y/n #Tony Stark x reader #Bruce Banner x reader #Bruce Banner x y/n #Stephen Strange x reader #Stephen Strange x y/n #We're going to Hell y'all

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