#if this flops i might js kms

[amourjins]

forgot something! - j.wy

pairing , classpresident!wonyoung x fem!reader

synopsis , as listening to beabadoobee’s ‘glue song’, you got an idea to do on your girlfriend.. or at least SOON-to-be girlfriend.

content ahead/genre , fluff!!!, highschool!au, umm no warnings its just silly little fluff

as you walked into class, only spotting your class pres, teacher, and some other classmates that came a little bit early, you took your seat. wonyoung looked up at you when you came in, her face lighting up at the sight of you.

you smiled at her, taking out your books and laptop to prepare for class. a few others walked in right after you, then came the whole class.

the teacher started the lesson when everybody settled in. you took your notes needed, the noise of the teachers writing on the whiteboard spreading throughout the classroom. you looked over at wonyoung, seeing her listening very carefully and closely at the teachers words as she wrote on and on.

“alright, everyone, please take the rest of class to work on your essays!” the teacher suddenly announced, erasing all of the writing off the whiteboard, making you stop doodling onto your notebook paper. you groaned as you turned the girl sitting beside you, kim chaewon. “i hate this essay..” you whispered to her, everyone around you opening up their laptops. “i hate this too, dont worry..” she responded back.

you put in your headphones, opening up spotify on your phone. you put on a random playlist that you had, ‘glue song’ by beabadoobee playing.

it immediately reminded you of wonyoung.

you didnt know why—you two werent even dating, and you didnt even know if she liked girls or not. but, what you do know, is that you two are the closest. always by eachothers side. and that was when you came up with a funny idea to play on wonyoung. she wouldnt play along, right?

as the bell rang, you immediately closed your laptop and slammed your books closed (gently), just happy to be out of that class. you stuffed all of your supplies inside of your backpack, groaning as you put it on. wonyoung seemed to already have packed up, and talking with the teacher. i mean, she was the class president, anyway.

the last bell of the day rang—indicating that everyone was free to head home. you walked out of class, walking to your locker, disposing a few things before you remembered the idea. you always knew wonyoung would be found at the library right after school, so you headed right over, immediately.

you peeked into the library, taking a look around. you took a step in, greeting the librarian as you asked about wonyoungs whereabouts, “do you know where jang wonyoung is?” you whispered, walking over to the counter where the librarian sat. “umm.. should be right at one of the desks. she’s told me about you, ln yn, right?” a light pink blush dawned onto your cheeks the second the librarian spoke. your heart raced, “uhm.. yes, thank you!” you thanked, immediately walking away to cover your face, and especially to calm down.

you walked to where the desks were located, spotting wonyoung flipping through pages of books and her laptop open. you sneaked over to her, standing beside her, “whatre you doing?” you questioned, startling her a bit as she looked at you, smiling. “hi, um, extra credit.” she replied, pointing at her laptop. you didnt understand anything that was on there, so you just nodded.

“anyway, did you need something?” she asked, directing her attention back to the books, shifting around in the chair. “um..” you thought for a second, taking a breath. “you forgot something today.” you lied (but did you really?). “what? huh? whatd i forget? i never forget anything,” she scrambled, as you just stopped her with a giggle. “no, not that.. you forgot to kiss me.”

“..are you serious?” a blush appeared on her cheeks as she turned to you, and you definitely did NOT expect her to react like this. “do you want me to be, jang wonyoung?” you teased, “oh shut up..” the taller girl mumbled, embarrassed, standing up.

“so are you?”

“am i gonna what?”

“kiss me.”

tension fueled between you two as wonyoung grabbed a book out of her book-bag, you confused on what she was about to do. she opened it up, holding it with her left hand. she covered the both of your guys’ side profiles with the book, covering the view of what you guys were about to do.

she leaned in, kissing you as her lips crashed onto yours. immediately after a few seconds, she pulled back, leaving you stunned. she then let go of the book, closing it and putting it back into her book-bag. she then went back to what she was doing, sitting down, acting like nothing happened. you sat down in the chair beside her, in a daze. your face was bright red as you dug your head into the wooden, cold desk.

“..no way class pres did that.” - k.mj

“did what?” - y.jm

“she held up a book to cover her and yns kiss,” - k.mj

‘ DON’T FORGET TO KISS ME,, OR ELSE YOU’LL HAVE TO MISS ME .. ’

[oceangl1tter]

Postpone the future

future things i'm itching to write about:// - INFP and unrequited love: name a more iconic duo - past lovers as colors of my nailpolish - sappy fiction in which i write a happy ending - how many  flowers can you stuff in your mouth before you throw up and die of indigestion - new year resolutions: TBD ————————————— First glass://

" HOUSE RULES to keep in mind 1. Do not go into any other rooms except for the restroom and my room 2. Bring enough food to be finished up or you take home whatever is left. 3. Do not open my closet/drawers lol its just my clothes tf? o.O 4. Clean up after yourself.... plS/ run to the damn restroom if u feel like yAK 5. PARTY ENDS 12AM sori pplz mama/papa gots to sleep " As a result of breaking the Golden Rule, the first of rules that had been posted in advance in our private Facebook event, we have been declaratively kicked out. R sneaks in a vomit-session before embarking on our expedition to the nearest boba place that would tolerate the ruckus from 4 hobbling pairs,2 observers, other stragglers lost on the way. It's supposedly a 40 minute walk to TenRen but time doesn't exist when you're trying to stop waddling kids from veering into oncoming traffic.The ranking of most drunk to least goes like this:

S E KC Q R MR DY A M JR, V R, JS, KG

Unfortunately, those burdened with not being shit-faced have been assigned the lovely task of cleaning up spilled drinks (a fizzy coca-cola liter erupts two times, same girl, same stumble, twice the sticky), being a branch for others to hang onto, and emotionally supporting the less-fortunate drunks. 

Breaking down the Hot Mess:

S and E pour up as if the red cups in their hands are the equivalent of shot-glasses—this measurement is obviously incredibly off and perhaps the reason why one of  them surpasses their breaking point (the other will throw up the remaining Malibu/ Smirnoff in a public trashcan in Atlantic Times Square) But for now, they're hyper, happy, laughing drunks, prancing along the host's bedroom and clinging along people in their path and tearing themselves off like pinballs.

S: Everything seems to be funny. Affectionate & eerily giggly. The next moment she's crying into the host's bed, facedown, emitting ugly sobs through convulses of her body. J is at her side telling her she can't cry into the host's bed and that she'll find someone else who will make her happy, but she has to get up first. She replies with," FUCK HIM!! I NEED HIM! HE MADE ME HAPPY!" This must've been inevitable. Don't drink in the same room with your ex. Another moment, she's pounding on the bathroom door because she has to pee. We broke the first rule. The host's mom comes out of her room later to see what the commotion is all about. She enters the room. Girl on bed, facedown, crying. Guy talking her down. R, taking a lazy nap on the side. Me, standing up with tissues stained coke-brown, red-faced, with my dumb nosering on looking into the eyes of someone that has known me since I was 10. She's on the phone and looks around the room. Concern or anger? I can't tell. I say in Cantonese that everything is fine. She is fine. I don't know how to say "she's not drunk! ! she's heartbroken" but the smell of the room betrays any statement. Kick-out ensues. 

E: This happened last time and she always proclaims the day after: "I wasn't that drunk!" The girl has lost all principles of momentum and flops on people's shoulders, anchoring her arm around necks. She drinks the same amount as S + the leftover bottle of Malibu. Her layer of introversion is gone as she lunges around the room with cup in hand. On our way to boba in the dark, she strides in zig zags with confident, imprecise steps. R runs after her. 

KC: Her original state is a high-pitched buzz of energy and it seems like alcohol multiplies that tenfold. She whacks S's left eye with her hand on accident. E whacks S's right eye with her foot on accident. She calls E fat and then apologizes. Later, she cries because she is sad. She loves everyone. She loves you. She loves her friends. She loves everyone, especially you. S, E, and KC are trio drunks. KC and I started out next to eachother drinking Calpico. I can't pinpoint when the trajectory split.

Q: She is a flirty, artificial drunk and at this point I'm over it. I saw the same thing unfold in Berkeley except with her boyfriend added into the equation. Not fun. Everyone else ignores her. She lays on the bed texting him.

R: R is a sleepy-drunk and he's knocked out first. I'm not sure how he was able to sleep through the loud singing of the national anthem and random indian music someone put on. I tell wide-eyed observers that this is signs of an alcoholic in the making. He pets S's hair as she cries into neatly folded blankets. On our way to boba I've been tasked with handling his inhibition. I am his crutch for the first half. The second half he is pushing me in an abandoned shopping cart and topples it over a bump in the sidewalk. My backpack, thankfully, protects my head from cracking open like an egg. Later on he grips my balled up hand and tries to unfold my fingers forcefully as if he could peel them out of the curled fist position. His hands feel like demands instead of sheepish drunk maneuvers. They don't feel sweaty but they're not warm either. We can't do this. I am shaking my head and curling my mid-sentences up as if I were scolding some dog. I don't let anyone hold my hand! Not even my mom! I say matter-of-factly. After wrestling it for a few moments he gives up.

New Years pt.1 / 11-12:// —————— J KM A S Q D KC R MR KG

New Years I had decided that I was sick of cleaning up after sick people and decided that it was up to me to be the agent of my own shitface-ness.  I arrive an hour before countdown. Early enough to not be missing out on the fun but late enough to have enough of it. I hadn't gone to this point before of not being able to coordinate the joints in my legs and how they are supposed to move together. I feel like a mannequin moving the different wooden blocks of my body. My cruise through the living room is stop-motion movement at 6 frames per second. I ask KG if that means I have meningitis and if that means I will die because I heard from my sister some girl when she was in highschool shared drinks, caught some virus and forgot how to walk afterwards. I took the shots and I also took shots, so do these shots cancel out?? My heart is beating so fast? Will I die? These are fleeting worries as I engage in a heavily regulated sequence of sitting on the floor, mulling on my phone, and sashaying across MR's house to the beat of the music with a cup of water and Soju in my hands for optimal simultaneous intake. I love MR's floor. I could have a ball in here. Loopy thoughts in my head spill out of my drink. I love that drunk words and actions never mean anything. I'm seated next to D in the kitchen under dim lights when I blurt out that I hate f***ots. I'm laughing and laughing and Laughing and Sipping on my Cup. D laughs along in shock and tells me to stop. I lazily say I must be projecting.

Some in-betweeners: (11) I stop KP and KC from having their New Years Kiss because we are NOT changing teams right now while drunk and/or heartbroken and I slice their SIN with my hands. Checkmate, athiests. 

(11 1/2) 

(12) J envelopes me in a big bear hug he has a knack for doing and I don't understand why he is hugging me when he does not even know me. I'm being consoled as I empty my lungs in gasping heaves. I've been made physically immobile at this point and I don't feel like squeaming out from this embrace like I would usually do. It's more of a crumple. D hovers over us. Sons! Sneezed out of her nose! We do a family hug. It's a comforting one. I shake hands with J in a marriage pact that if in 40 years we still haven't found The One we would just call it a day and get married. D wants to join in, but I tell him I'm not down for threesomes. Letalone incestuous ones. I don't think it will happen but in case it does, it wouldn't hurt to fall back on history. 

He tells me a few more things:

The money he spent, the Blitzcrank plush that he ordered that never came in the mail and was too shy to ask for a replacement.

The middle school cringey rejection song sent to him played on repeat as he ran laps to get swol to win the hearts of others and move on https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W9A52UWmmrE ; The cliche line about learning to love yourself before you love someone else and his backburner recognition that the song I sent that apparently "changed his life" like a cop-out of some manic pixie dream girl concept, might not have been for him. Bingo.

The $5 bill he snuck under one of my frontyard rocks because he thought I was broke. He asks if I ever got it. No I did not, but thanks.

My tumblr he tried to find and couldn't; the one Samantha told him I had but wouldn't give him unless they went out together.

(1) Later that night I'm limping J back to his house as he spits out foams of champagne out of his mouth. M kicks him out of his house because he's done with his shit that he dumps on others—shit that he brought about himself. (2)   (3) (4) —————————————————————————————————-