#luvpuffcore collab

[luvdsc]

barbie girl.

if life is plastic (and therefore, nonbiodegradable), then it’s so not fantastic. honestly, who came up with that? regina george really should’ve googled about the new plastics economy.

or alternatively, pretty girls rule the world, and you find out that he’s (not) all that.

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: comedy, fluff, angst ⋮ makeover + college au word count :: 24,618 words warnings :: body issues, body image, weight mentions, insecurities, beauty is a social construct, [spoiler] did something bad, people being literal scum, so much gaslighting that you can start a wildfire and j*ke gyll*nh*al should take notes, “if a man talks shit then i owe him nothing” playlist :: pretty boys (romi) ⋆ you can’t sit with us (sunmi) ⋆ i just wanna know (katherine li) ⋆ lie to girls (sabrina carpenter) ⋆ look what you made me do (taylor swift) ⋆ leftover feelings (regina song) ⋆ number one girl (rosé) + extended playlist here. author’s note :: she’s all that is one of my most favorite rom coms ever, but i’ve always been ///: at the whole makeover idea and decided to write my own version !! the idols mentioned in this fic are just characters, and how i portray them in this fic do not reflect how i actually view them or their irl personas. as always, much love to miss lana and miss moon for being my biggest cheerleaders ᥫ᭡ ↳ part of the 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 collaboration series.

i. hiya, barbie! hi, ken!

Na Jaemin does not know that you exist.

Good looking, charismatic, and popular — it’s his world, and you’re just living in it. Or something like that. You’re decently smart, somewhat funny, and not pretty enough to stand out, but not exactly hideous according to societal standards (source: those beauty quizzes in Seventeen magazine that you used to be obsessed with when you were thirteen and in desperate need of flirting tips). If he was the main lead, you’d probably be Extra #6, maybe Extra #2 on a good day.

By your calculations, the two of you should never cross paths, like two parallel lines. Wait, scratch that, you would probably never be aligned with anything that has to do with this guy. You saw him standing outside of the door of your shared accounting classroom during your fall semester, and he spent twenty five minutes editing his picture for Instagram and ended up late for the lecture. And he probably already spent even more time selecting the final photo to edit before you arrived to class and noticed him. Absolute idiot. Absolute handsome idiot, but idiot nonetheless. A grade A himbo with a grade C in financial accounting. 

Okay, so scrap the parallel lines theory, maybe skew lines are a better way of explaining it. Yeah, that seems about right, the two of you are from completely different dimensions, never meant to interact or run parallel with each other. And once again, by this logic, your paths should never cross.

“Y/N!”

You stand corrected.

Na Jaemin does know that you exist.

You suddenly remember that there was that one small group presentation in that very same aforementioned accounting class, and you were assigned to the same group as Jaemin. Armed with this rediscovered memory, you are going to revise your earlier response and say that the correct descriptor for your relationship is perpendicular lines. That sounds right. Final answer. You’re locking it in.

Your paths should have only intersected once, the two of you should be going in different directions, and even though you’re in another class with him again for spring semester this year (since all freshmen with a business major has to take the same Gen. Ed. classes), not once have the two of you had a proper conversation with each other (He asked you to pass a note one time, but that barely counts). Jaemin should have forgotten you by now, and you should be continuing on with your side character life that you’re very much content with.

So then why on earth is he shouting your name like you’re old friends and causing what feels like every person within a one mile radius to stare at you?

He’s unknowingly giving you your main character moment, and you very quickly realize that you do not feel like the Y/N in any one of those Gojo fanfics you read religiously at three in the morning when you should really be studying or sleeping.

Instead, you feel like a bug watching its impending doom as a Doc Marten boot starts to descend at an alarming speed and you can’t even try to scuttle out of the way to avoid it. Frozen in your spot, you can only watch as your university’s it boy skids to a stop in front of you after running across the grass and flashing you his million dollar smile. “Hey, Y/N, right? We have ECON 13 together.”

Starstruck, your mind to mouth filter is completely shot, and all you manage to let out is a very uncool “Uh huh.”

He laughs a little breathlessly, and you feel like all the oxygen has been knocked out of your lungs, too. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, Jaemin tilts his head to the side slightly, the sunlight catching his profile perfectly, and your breath hitches in your throat once more.

“I know this is gonna sound really, uh, forward since we barely know each other and all, but—”

You’re barely listening to him, your heart pounding in your chest and the blood rushing to your ears. It’s pretty embarrassing to see how a mere stranger with a pretty face can affect you this much. You really thought you had a much stronger willpower than this, but it’s so goddamn unfair how this boy standing in front of you has the most perfectly sculpted face you’ve ever seen. Plus, his eyelashes? Why the hell do boys always get the prettiest, thickest, and darkest lashes? 

Meanwhile, you’re out here struggling to force your perpetually straight, stubby lashes into a curl that ends up lasting only a couple hours, even when you use waterproof mascara. You still end up with flat lashes and you have to feverishly scrub your eyes to remove the blasted makeup and lose a few cherished lashes in the process.

“—with me?” Jaemin finishes, and you belatedly realize that you did not catch a single word that he said, too caught up in your inner monologue and too busy ogling. However, your heart flutters in your chest when you catch the last part of his question. Not to be too presumptuous, but it sounds like he’s asking you out. Why else would anyone randomly stop you like this and talk to you for this long? You’re positively giddy at this revelation. This is your moment, the one you’ve been waiting for your whole life, like Rapunzel waiting in her tower for the one to come and save her from her horribly mundane, repetitive life.

“Oh! Um… yes?” It’s a 50/50 chance between yes or no, and you hope that’s the correct answer he’s looking for. 

Jaemin’s face immediately brightens, and he turns his smile up another kilowatt, nearly blinding you. You grin back at him, squinting a little. This must be how Icarus felt when he flew towards the sun. 

“Oh shit, really? You’re really agreeing to tutor me? Hyuck—you know, our class’s peer TA—said I was a hopeless cause, and I would need way more one on one lessons outside of his hours and all that if I wanted to pass. And yeah, I know I could probably bitch at him until he caves since we’re kind of friends, but he would also hold this over my head, but he said you had the highest score on last week’s practice midterm, so I thought, ‘hey, why not shoot my shot?’” He directs another smile your way, pausing for a quick breath. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, and his smile isn’t helping whatsoever as your heart decides to join in this race as well until it sinks when you finally process his words.

“Wait, Donghyuck said that about me?” you manage to get out, a little dazed, and Jaemin confirms before eagerly continuing on with his chatter, but all you can do is stupidly nod as the word “TUTOR” spins around and around in your mind in bold, italicized, underlined mocking red letters in Times New Roman font, size 12, double spaced, MLA format, the whole shebang.

Of course, he only wants a tutor. What made you think that a boy like him would look twice at a girl like you? The only other time a guy has ever expressed interest in you is to share homework answers for Calculus back in 10th grade (For the record, all of his answers were completely wrong, but Sungchan was a cute distraction. Actually, the two of you became very good friends once you very quickly got over the fact that you were firmly placed in the friendzone. He’s even dating one of your best friends now).

“Anyways, can I have your number? I can text you to match our schedules and figure out the times to meet up for the next couple of weeks before our next midterm.” You remain wide eyed, gazing at him like a deer caught in the headlights and still attempting to fully understand everything that has just happened.

Jaemin looks at you expectantly, his hand outstretched towards you with his phone tucked between his fingers. The device dangles there for an additional ten seconds that probably isn’t socially acceptable. Grab the phone, you scream at yourself silently, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. You blink slowly once. Then twice.

“Or, I can just… uh, type in your number if you tell me,” Jaemin says awkwardly, his smile wilting slightly as he shifts from one foot to the other under your unwavering gaze and slowly retracting his hand. Finally, you come to your senses as you quickly spring into action and snatch the phone from him, tapping in your digits and adding in your name and shared class before saving your contact.

“Here,” you mutter, returning his phone, and he gives you a relieved grin. You clutch onto the strap of your backpack a little tighter, cursing the way your heart skips a beat. “I should be free most weekday afternoons since I prefer to take all morning classes, but let me know when you’re free and we can work something out.”

“Awesome! Thank you so much, Y/N, you’re a life saver.” Jaemin beams at you, touching your shoulder briefly and you feel that very same place on your body erupt in flames as your face heats up in a similar manner. “I’ll text you tonight, yeah?”

You can only numbly nod, subconsciously raising your hand and waving at him, and Jaemin chuckles, flashing his pearly whites at you again, before he saunters off and blends into a group of other equally pretty and popular students, a few of whom look over at you with vague interest before turning their attention back to the boy who just joined them.

What have you gotten yourself into?

ii. you want to go for a ride?

“I’m getting sus vibes from him.”

Flicking her long dark hair over her shoulder, Lana takes a long sip of her wintermelon milk tea with honey pearls, a spitting image of that one infamous Starbucks meme of your school’s alumni, Hyungwon (His picture can still be found floating through discord chats, and you’re ninety percent sure your school used it in one of their recruitment brochures at one point). She’s sprawled out on the beanbag in the corner of your shared apartment’s living room, her HP laptop covered in sailor moon stickers balanced across her thighs (She swears HP is the best laptop brand, but you don’t trust electronics advice from anyone who can’t even use a toaster properly).

“Have you even spoken to Jaemin? How exactly are you getting sus vibes from him?” Moon jumps in, glancing over the top of her MacBook as she takes a quick break from her latest coding project regarding polynomials, matrices, and a bunch of other math terminology you rather not think about. You left all that arithmetic jargon back in high school after you got a 5 on both AP calculus exams and got to skip all required math classes for your accounting major (Sungchan wasn’t so lucky).

“He’s a fratboy finance major.” Lana rolls her eyes.

“Point taken, but weren’t you into that senior, Jaehyun? He’s one of them. You called him your soulmate,” you interject, and she splutters for a few seconds before putting her hand up in protest.

“Listen, I was going through a perpetual mental breakdown at the beginning of this semester. It doesn’t count. You try being a pharmacy major. Thank god I switched out to English. My mental state was compromised, and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“What do you mean not thinking straight? Lana, you literally chose the straightest, most heterosexual man out there.” Moon jibes, closing her laptop now with an air of conceding defeat. You have to give her props for trying to work on some assignments, but you already knew no one was going to get any work done tonight. It’s a Thursday night anyway, which means you have until Tuesday to get all the homework assigned today done. You can always work on them on Monday night and inevitably curse yourself for not getting it done earlier when you end up pulling an all nighter and show up to your 8 a.m. international marketing tactics class with raccoon eyes. 

“This is bullying, and we are on an anti-bullying campus,” Lana complains, giving the two of you the stink eye before leaning over and lightly shoving the snoozing boy sprawled across the floor next to her. “Wake up, Yang. Moon and Y/N gang up on me when you’re not awake to absorb all our gentle bullying.”

The boy in question sits upright, bleary eyes and the drying ink from his notes now decorating his cheek, a lasting reminder of the makeshift pillow for his impromptu nap. Yawning, he stretches his arms, rubbing his face and making an even bigger mess of smears. “What’d I miss?”

“We were just discussing Lana‘s tragic crush on Jaehyun last year,” you say, and she makes a strangled noise next to you. “Were you up late sewing again?”

“Yes,” Yangyang grumbles, “You would think Kaneki would be so easy to cosplay since he wears all black, but the mask is taking forever to make.”

“Can’t one of your sugar daddies buy one for you?”

“What sugar daddies? If I had one, I wouldn’t be stuck in here trying to balance equations,” he moans, crumpling up another sheet filled up with scribbles and his latest attempts at answering the second to last problem for organic chemistry.

“My bad, I thought you would have some from your cosplay account.” Moon shrugs, rummaging through her large soccer mom purse for a snack and triumphantly pulling out a box of green tea Hello Pandas. “You have like 100k followers on there.”

“My audience demographic is weebs.” Yangyang deadpans. “How many weebs do you know who are rich enough to send five thousand dollars every week to a struggling college student?”

“Wait, we’re going off topic right now. What do you know about Jaemin, Yang?” Lana cuts in, and Moon nods in agreement (You try not to look too interested, but fail miserably, no doubt).

“Jaemin Na? I’ve never talked to him personally, but there’s always stories about him and his friends. Jeno is on the baseball team and notorious for his body count. He’s the one that takes up like 30% of our university’s anonymous confessions Twitter account. This is his insta, but he’s not really active on social media.” Yangyang passes his phone around for the three of you to see Jeno’s Instagram. There’s a whopping total of fourteen posts, and every picture of him with someone of the opposite sex features a different girl. Instant red flag.

“Lia is pretty big on Tik Tok,” Yangyang continues, grabbing his phone to pull up her account to show all of you. “She’s pretty and is actually really good at singing, but she's basically trying to be the next Addison Rae. Jimin models, and she’s going by Karina nowadays. I heard she tried to trademark that name or something. She posts dancing Tik Toks. She and Yeonjun collab a lot. He walks for New York fashion week and has a Tik Tok for dancing, too. I’m like 70% sure they’re only dating to boost their views. Somi is the most popular one out of them. She’s the blonde one. She’s pretty talented and I heard she signed onto the same company as the Blackpink House. She’s even done a makeup video with Vogue recently.”

“And Jaemin has a pretty large social following. He takes decent pictures, and that’s what he insists his insta is for, but let’s be real, the majority of his followers are there for his face. You should see his TikTok. He literally just recorded himself looking at the camera and put some generic caption, and he racked up like seven hundred thousand likes,” Yangyang grumbles, pulling up his account to show you all the video in question. “Like literally, what the hell is this? I have to put in so many hours making my outfits and editing my videos and all he does is smile and paste ‘Don’t have a valentine again… hope this will change soon’ on top, and the preteens are foaming at the mouth.”

“Wow, jumpscare warning next time you show me him please.” Lana wrinkles her nose at the repeating offensive clip. Yangyang merely shoves his phone even closer to her in response, and she flips him off.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked about him. Why are you suddenly interested in him? Is this your Jaehyun 2.0 phase starting up?” Yangyang grins, and Lana flicks his forehead in retaliation.

“Shut up, when are you guys gonna let that die? Besides, it’s Y/N who’s interested, not me,” Lana retorts, and immediately, the spotlight is back on you. You cough awkwardly, feeling a bit uncomfortable with all the attention.

“Uh, he just asked if I would tutor him…”

“And you said yes?” Yangyang sounds scandalized and utterly betrayed. “Why would you willingly fraternize with the enemy like that?”

“What enemy? I didn’t even know he knew I existed until this very recent development occurred.” 

“Influencers like him are instant enemies to me, and as my friend, he’s your enemy by association. I can't believe you’re helping the competition,” Yangyang sniffs.

You don’t have the guts to tell them all that the only reason you accepted his tutor proposal is because you got ahead of yourself and despite all the odds and signs, thought Jaemin was asking you out. You know your friends won’t make fun of you (too badly), but that is completely humiliating, and you will be taking that to the grave.

“It’s just tutoring, don’t be so dramatic,” you scoff, making a face at him. “He texted me yesterday, and we’re meeting up at the library later today, and I reserved a private study room for two hours.”

“Oooh, so it’s a study date?” Moon teases, and your cheeks betray you with the amount of heat now emanating off of them.

“Shut up, it’s literally just tutoring. We’re going over supply and demand curves.” 

“No, back up, he texted you yesterday and you didn’t tell us about him until today?” Lana interjects, holding up her hand and putting on a faux offended expression. “What kind of friend are you? We’re supposed to tell each other every nitty gritty detail about our love lives! Like Sungchan texts Moon good morning texts at eight in the morning, and by 8:30 a.m., we’re already getting a play by play about it in the group chat!”

Moon turns pink and opens her mouth before deciding against it and quietly shuts it. Yangyang silently laughs next to Lana, his shoulders shaking (You decide that you shouldn’t tell them Jaemin actually asked you in person to tutor him three days ago or else, Lana will chew you out even more).

You protest, flailing your arms around slightly in exasperation. “There’s literally zero development in my love life! I have nothing going on in it, and I can guarantee you that he does not see me in that light whatsoever.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Lana looks wholly unconvinced, and your two friends look back and forth between the two of you like two kids watching their divorced parents fight. “So… Do you need help picking out an outfit for tomorrow?”

“… Yeah.”

iii. sure, ken. jump in!

“Hey, Y/N!” 

Jaemin loudly whispers a little breathlessly as he drops his bag onto the table and slumps into the chair next to yours, his chest heaving slightly. Startled, you jerk up in your chair, heart skipping a beat when you realize he’s here. You were supposed to be in a private study room, but there was a group of boys already in there, and as the most non-confrontational person to walk this earth, you decided to cut your losses and take a table nearby.

“Did you wait long? I got caught up outside the library when Somi stopped me and completely forgot,” he says apologetically, pulling out his textbooks, and you shake your head, giving him a shy smile.

“No, it’s alright. I was already here anyway, and I got some extra studying done.” You gesture towards the papers and notebooks strewn across the table’s surface, covered in your notes from today’s classes. “Should we start with today’s lesson? How much did you understand in class today?”

“Maybe the first five minutes of it only.”

You pause, glancing over at him. “Professor Hwang was ten minutes late to class.”

“Exactly.” Jaemin nods, and you stifle a laugh. He grins at you. “I don’t think you realize how much of a hopeless cause I am when you agreed to tutor me.”

“We can start from the beginning then. You have four weeks until the midterm, and we can go through every lesson we’ve had so far. I’ll make up a study schedule if you give me yours. And if you continue to go to Donghyuck’s tutoring hours too, you should hopefully be able to catch up and do well on the midterm.”

Jaemin wordlessly pulls up his class schedule on his phone, and you plug them into a Google calendar that you quickly share to his email. “So, I color coded your classes in green, and my classes are in pink. Do you have any other things that we need to work around?”

He peers over at your screen, scanning the contents. “I have my weekly frat meetings on Tuesday nights and mandatory events on other nights.”

“Alright, you can put them in and we’ll figure out meeting times,” you say, pushing your laptop towards him and he starts to add in his extracurricular activities.

 “Party from 8 pm to 1 am?” you read skeptically, your eyes scanning over the event he tacked in under this week’s Friday.

“Yeah, can’t miss it,” Jaemin says, typing in more events and making sure to color code them in blue. “Don’t you have things to do on Friday night too?”

“Uh, maybe grab a poke bowl from the dining hall to go and watch another Banana Fish episode,” you say awkwardly, fiddling with the small Gojo keychain you have attached to your pouch.

Jaemin stops, looking over at you. “You watch Banana Fish?”

Your cheeks grow warm. “… Yeah, why?” 

His eyes light up and he asks eagerly, “Did you see the latest episode? When Golzine leaves Arthur in charge?”

The two of you continue discussing the plot as he finishes up adding in his schedule for the next four weeks, finally nudging the laptop back towards you. “Do you need to add in your stuff too?”

“Mm no, it’s fine. I already put in my classes, and I’m not in any clubs or sororities,” you answer, making sure to input Donghyuck’s tutoring hours as well before scanning over the calendar and pinpointing areas where he’s free for at least one to two hours. “Okay, should we start with meeting three times a week?”

“Huh, you memorized Hyuck’s hours?” Jaemin notes, giving you a sly smile as he moves closer to look at the schedule.

“Huh? No, don’t you always know your professors’ and TAs’ office hours?” you ask, looking up and are immediately startled after underestimating the proximity between you and the beautiful boy next to you. 

“No, I’m not a nerd,” he snorts lightly, and you laugh awkwardly, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction and put a little more distance between the two of you before you go into cardiac arrest, “Right, yeah, well, anyway—”

“You were also interested when I said Hyuck mentioned you before,” Jaemin says suddenly, sitting up straight before a wide grin spreads across his face as he loudly exclaims, “You totally have a crush on him!”

“Quiet down!” You immediately shush him, the tips of your ears burning as everyone within a 40 feet radius in the library is now staring at the two of you. You’ve never received this much attention before, and you very quickly realize that you absolutely hate it. You loudly whisper-protest, stumbling over your words in a panic, “I—I don’t have a crush on him!”

“Oh, come on, your face is getting hot and you’re stuttering. You do too like him,” Jaemin laughs softly, propping his elbow onto the table and resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he gives you a once over. “I could totally make you into his type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask hotly, cheeks burning even more when you feel his eyes graze over your figure.

“Oh, it’ll be so much fun. We can go to the mall and pick out some cute clothes for you, and then swing by the hair shop. You’re definitely using the wrong conditioner and shampoo,” Jaemin continues, eying your hair for a quick second.

“Wait, wait, we’re just here for tutoring, what are you even talking about?” You ask, bewildered before grasping a stray strand of your hair between your fingers. “And what do you mean I’m using the wrong shampoo?”

“And conditioner,” Jaemin pipes up, picking up his phone to search up some better brands he would recommend. “What have you been using? 2 in 1 Head and Shoulders?”

“No,” you huff softly, your ears growing even warmer at the accusation. “I just use whatever my mom buys in bulk at Costco.”

“Okay, well, you should use this instead,” Jaemin says, showing his phone screen to you, and your eyes widen slightly when you note the price tag.

“I cannot be forking over nearly seventy dollars on shampoo and conditioner,” you say incredulously, pushing his phone back towards him and waving your hand dismissively. “And there’s no way I’m going to spend even more money on new clothes.”

“Okay, fine, I think I have some unopened bottles from sponsored deals that I can give to you,” Jaemin sighs, opening up his text messages to find his friends’ group chat. “Or my friends would have some good ones, too. Maybe we can get you some of their free clothes from sponsorships, too.”

“You guys just get free clothes?” 

“Yeah,” he shrugs, glancing over at you. “On second thought, Karina and Lia aren’t the same size as you, so you won’t fit them. We can just order some basic pieces online or something for starters.”

“We—We aren’t doing this,” you loudly whisper back to him, hyper aware of the other students around you who keep glancing over at Jaemin. “Let’s just focus on making this schedule and helping you pass your midterm.”

“Oh, please, doll, it’d be fun. Just think of it as a payment for your tutoring,” Jaemin persuades you, scooting closer to you and pressing his thigh against yours lightly. Your breath hitches in your throat at the pet name and his touch. You’ve never been this close to any boy before, let alone one as attractive as Jaemin.

“You’ll look so pretty, I know the perfect outfits to make for you. And I can teach you how to get Hyuck’s attention, too,” he continues, nudging you lightly, and you’re still dazed, unable to get over the fact that he’s impossibly close to you, close enough for you to count the pretty lashes framing his even prettier eyes. You wonder what it’s like to be that beautiful, what it’s like to have people falling at your feet, what it’s like to mesmerize everyone the second you walk into a room.

Honestly, if Jaemin asked you to jump, your only response would be “how high.”

“If I agree to this, will you finally pay attention?” you sigh, and Jaemin instantly brightens up, nodding and giving you another one of those smiles that makes your stomach flip flop. Your Achilles’ heel is one very persistent boy who goes by the name of Na Jaemin, and he has hit you with a direct bullseye.

“Yes, I’ll be a model student, doll.”

You hesitate for a split second before relenting. “Okay, fine, deal.”

iv. i’m a barbie girl in the barbie world.

Jaemin is easy on the eyes, but currently proving to be very difficult for your nerves during your fourth tutoring session. Your wardrobe has increased in style and size by now, and you’re dressed in a pretty lilac top that wraps around you and accentuates your curves and hides what needs to be hidden perfectly. Your jeans may dig a little more than you’d like into your stomach, but it’s your fault that you chose to wear your photo jeans instead of your sitting jeans. Also, your hair has never looked better, all thanks to the boy seated next to you.

“No, when there is a low supply, there’s a high demand. They directly affect each other,” you try to re-explain to the boy next to you, drawing out the line graph once again. He stares down at the familiar graph before looking at the written practice problem in front of him. Professors must have an insane amount of patience, you silently think to yourself. 

You sigh. “Let’s put it this way. You and Jeno want to buy the same shirt, but there’s only one left in the right size. So that’s two people who are demanding the one shirt. And the store only has one shirt in its supply. So how would you describe this situation?”

“Oh.” The look of realization flashes across Jaemin’s face as your example easily snaps the puzzle pieces into place for him. “There’s a high demand and low supply. Too many people want the shirt, but there’s not enough shirts.”

“Yes, you got it!” You cheer quietly, mindful of your location at one of the library’s tables. “Now try reading through the practice problems and draw the appropriate supply and demand graphs for each one.”

 “And when I’m done with this, we can take a break, and I’ll teach you how to do makeup. My friends will help,” Jaemin says idly as he reads through the first problem again. 

Your stomach lurches slightly at that, and you hesitate. “Your friends?”

“Yeah, you know, Jeno, Karina, Lia, and Yeonjun. Somi, too, but she’s been busy. I can teach you basic skincare and makeup, but the girls will have to help you with the rest,” he says casually, scrawling down his first answer and the corresponding graph.

You swallow hard, your voice croaking slightly before you hastily clear it. “Are you sure? Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, doll. You’re like a puppy, and everyone likes those,” Jaemin mumbles idly, eyebrows furrowing as he rereads the second problem.

“A puppy?” You don’t know whether to be offended or not yet.

Oh, you know, just that you’re cute and all,” Jaemin laughs lightly, starting to write down his next answer, and your heart nearly stops in your chest. You force yourself to breathe regularly again.

“Oh, I see,” you start to answer coolly, but stuttering on the last word, internally cursing your tongue at the last stumble. You try to sit calmly and relax for the rest of the tutoring session as Jaemin slowly makes his way through the practice packet, but the knot in your stomach continues to tangle even more, growing ever bigger. Maybe you should just tell Jaemin that lunch didn’t agree with you and cut this meetup short. 

But that means less time spent with Jaemin. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Jaemin is nice, so his friends should be as well, you reason with yourself. There’s no need to be nervous. Even if they’re all incredibly beautiful, hot people with the most unapproachable aura you have ever encountered.

Like honestly, how is someone like Karina even real? Her face could start a modern day equivalent of the Trojan War. She is literally the face blueprint for every main female character you play in your otome games.

Turns out, Karina is even more gorgeous up close. Ridiculously close with the way she’s inches from your face as she swipes on some blush on the apples of your cheeks. You never thought you’d see the resident it girl here for you, standing in the middle of your dorm room, let alone have an actual conversation with her that extended beyond a polite hello when she stops by for Giselle. It’s already been 45 minutes, and your nerves still haven’t calmed down.

“You just need to apply a little bit here and here on both your cheeks,” she instructs you, pointing towards your cheekbones and carefully applying the rosy powder to the same areas. She pauses in the application momentarily so that you can type out a few notes into your phone covering her directions. “You can go heavier if you want the cute sunburn, Sabrina Carpenter look, but if you do too much, you’ll end up looking like my ex.”

“What?” You’re startled, glancing over at her and nearly getting blinded once again by her lethal face card. She laughs lightly, giving you a slight smile. “A clown.” 

“Oh, got it,” you chuckle, albeit nervously, shooting her a quick smile. “I’ll make sure to not do that.”

“Relax, it’s easy. Just a bit of makeup here and there, and you’ll be fine. All I do is some mascara, falsies, and a good lippie when I’m lazy, and I’m out the door in ten minutes,” Lia jumps in, holding several different tubes of lip tints.

“Are you sure? That’s really it?” You ask hesitantly, glancing over the various makeup products strewn over your desk. It looks a lot more complicated than what she had just described.

“Well, maybe you might need a bit more, like concealer and foundation. And some bronzer and heavy contouring. But just stick to the skincare routine and it’ll help lessen it,” Karina sighs, dabbing some highlighter to the tip of your nose before seeing the uncertain look in your eyes, adding hastily, “But it’s so worth it, trust. You’ll look so pretty, and it comes with so many perks. Girl math is knowing you can go out with no money and just your face card.”

“Hey, you’re friends with Yangyang?” Lia pipes up, noticing the photo strip you have pinned on your corkboard, nestled between the various Mystic Messenger Seven fanart and Zorro art prints.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I am. You know him?” You answer, and she nods before leaning in and evenly applying a thin layer of periwinkle tint on your lips. “Yeah, we’re in the same German class. Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”

Well, you definitely can’t tell her about the raging heart on he has for his best friend, but it’s not like he really is seeing anyone either. You do vaguely remember Yangyang saying Lia was pretty and talented during his quick 5 minute minute class to Jaemin and his friends, so it’s not like he hates her either.

“No, he’s not,” you answer, hoping you made the right choice, and Lia’s face visibly brightens. “Oh, really? That’s great.”

“Okay, we’re done.” Karina announces, stepping back and holding up a mirror for you. “Not bad, right?”

“Oh, wow,” you suck in a breath, nearly gasping in surprise as you peer at the glass. You almost don’t recognize yourself. The contouring lifts up your face, slimming it down, and the blush gives you a pretty pink hue that makes you look sun kissed. Your lower lashes have nearly doubled in length with the mascara, giving you a pretty babydoll look. Karina had perfectly applied a set of falsies for you, framing your eyes delicately, and the shimmery eyeshadow and soft winged eyeliner accentuates your eyes even more. Your lips are the prettiest shade of pink, tinted and glossy.

You can’t believe it is your own reflection staring back at you.

“Now put this outfit on,” Lia says with a knowing smile, placing a shopping bag in your lap. “Jaemin picked it out.”

“Oh, really? Alright,” you manage to mumble out, dazed and still admiring yourself in the hand mirror. Karina laughs softly, nudging Lia before moving towards your door. “We have to get to a sorority meeting now, but I hope you like it, doll. And make sure to practice.”

“I love it,” you say breathlessly, grazing your fingertips against the cool glass, still in disbelief. “And I definitely will practice.”

“Mm, good, text us if you need any help! And send progress pics! We want to see how it’s going,” Lia answers, waving over her shoulder before the two of them exit your dorm. Sitting there alone, you stare at your reflection for a little longer, admiring yourself. You feel so pretty. 

You finally remember the paper bag on your lap, and you immediately dig into it, pulling out a flowy floral sundress. It’s beautiful, and you quickly tug off your jeans and tshirt before going to your drawers to dig around for the appropriate bra for the dress. You manage to find it, snapping on the bra around yourself from the front before twisting it until the clasp is against your back. You hastily push your arms through the straps, tugging on either side until it’s on perfectly. You suck in a quick breath, internally preparing yourself for the battle with the next piece of clothing, a.k.a. your worst enemy: spandex. You’ve familiarized yourself with the awkward jig you have to do around your dorm until you’ve wriggled into the tight elastic enough so that it sits in the correct spot and sucks in all the right places.

At last, you won the war, but you feel sweaty now, flopping back onto your bed for a quick break. You flap your hands in front of your face, thanking whoever decided to invent setting spray. You grab your deodorant spray and douse yourself in a heavy dose of it before picking up the sundress and slipping it over your head. To your great relief, it slides on perfectly, and you quickly shuffle over to the full length mirror hanging on the back of your door. You straighten out the dress and quickly pat down any strand of hair knocked askew from your latest struggles before giving a smile to the mirror.

Dare you say it? You look pretty.

You’ve never looked this pretty before.

You happily take out the dainty gold heart necklace you had carefully tucked into your top desk drawer, struggling for a few seconds before you manage to clasp it around your neck. You quickly pull the pendant towards the front before slipping on the strappy sandals you left next to your desk. You grab the cute purse you bought last week, now packed with the perfect essentials, and give yourself one last once over.

You have nowhere to go, but you decide to take a walk to the dining hall. After all, you’re dressed up so nicely, makeup done so perfectly, you can’t waste it on another night stuffing your face with hot Cheetos and rewatching the first season of Haikyuu!!. Opening your door, you step out and nearly run into someone. 

“Oh, finally, you’re done, doll. I thought you died in there or some…”

His eyes widening in utter shock, his next word dies on the tip of his tongue when Jaemin sees you standing in front of him. His mouth falls open slightly before he quickly closes it to swallow harshly, his throat running dry. He’s never seen you like this before, never imagined that you’d be this pretty. He inhales sharply, stiffening slightly as his eyes rake over your figure, seeing how the dress perfectly accentuates your figure, and settles on your face.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?” Your eyes widen slightly before your cheeks grow warm when you notice his stunned reaction.

“Um,” he croaks out, voice cracking before he quickly swallows again, silently cursing when puberty decides to make a belated appearance. “Lia texted me that you were done, so I wanted to see how it went. You look… wow.”

Your cheeks heat up even further, and you laugh a little nervously, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “R-really? It’s not too much?”

“No!” He immediately blurts out before his cheeks flush carmine. “I—I mean, you look really good. You should dress like this more often.”

You can’t stop the smile spreading across your face, and Jaemin’s heart flip flops in his chest. “Really? Thank you, I will then.”

“Of course, really. I picked the dress myself after all,” He tries to joke before hastily clearing his throat. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh, no, I don’t. I was just going to go to the dining hall and grab some food,” you answer awkwardly, shifting your purse over your shoulder slightly and tightening your fingers around its strap.

“Let me take you out for dinner.” Jaemin blurts out, a little high pitched, mentally facepalming at how he sounds. “I mean, we can go over some of the harder problems in that packet since I probably need more studying anyway, and I’ll teach you a couple more dating tricks.”

“Sure, okay, that sounds good.” You give him a wider beam, and Jaemin feels his heart beat a little faster. Maybe you don’t need that much teaching from him after all. Seems like you’re a quick learner.

v. life is plastic, it’s fantastic!

“The only thing you’re fucking is stupid.”

“Shut the hell up, Yeonjun. At least I’m not sticking my dick in crazy.”

You watch the light argument going on between Jeno and Yeonjun in amusement. You and Jaemin had just finished your ninth tutoring session two hours ago, and you think he’s getting on track to actually scoring a decent grade for the next midterm. You were initially going to head towards Lana and Moon’s dorm for your weekly anime show marathon, but Jaemin insisted that you stop by the Alpha Sigma Psi house for a small party. Giselle and Karina are both part of that house, so you figured it couldn’t hurt to make a quick appearance. Good thing you spent some time touching up your makeup before today’s tutoring session.

“Hey, doll! Join the photo,” Jaemin calls out to you, gesturing you towards the area he and the rest of his friends are standing. You see another really pretty girl—Minjeong, was it?—standing on the side, holding up a phone and preparing to take the picture.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, I can just take the photo instead,” you laugh awkwardly, extending your hand out towards Minjeong, but Jeno gently nudges you forward, “No way, you never take pics with us. Just one, come on, Y/N.”

“Yeah, join us!” Jaemin says brightly, tugging you towards him and you stumble slightly, falling forward into his chest. You quickly catch yourself, hands suddenly pressed against his chest, and the blood rushes to your face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you start to babble, trying to push yourself away before Jaemin quickly wraps his arm around your waist. “Nope, you’re staying here, it’s just a few pics, please, doll?”

“I—I mean, I don’t really—”

You start to say before Minjeong’s voice cuts through the air. “Okay, I’m taking it in five seconds now. So get ready and pose or be ready to live with the consequences on Insta forever.” 

Everyone immediately shuffles around, and you’re squeezed even tighter against Jaemin, and you just know that he can feel your heart pounding rapidly against his chest.

“Smile, doll,” Jaemin laughs gently, squeezing your hip lightly and you inhale sharply at that, your heart rate spiking and increasing exponentially. You muster up a few shaky smiles as the flash starts to go off.

After a few more pictures, you manage to untangle yourself from the group and hurriedly go towards Minjeong. “I can take the pictures, you should join in.”

She immediately brightens up at that, giving you a kilowatt smile as she hands you the phone and slips into your original position in between Jaemin and Karina. “Oh, thanks, Y/N.”

You wait a few moments for everyone to get readjusted before you begin to snap some photos, having already mastered this from the previous hang outs you’ve joined and knowing how to take the best angles for everyone, including all the 0.5 zoom out ones. After taking some additional group and solo photos for the girls, you’re finally free of your duties. Your eyes widen when you check the time on your phone, and you hurriedly make your way over to Jaemin.

“Hey, I need to get going now. I have to get to Lana and Moon’s dorm, so I’ll see you later,” you say quickly, already beginning to brush past him as the realization sets in that it’s been over an hour when you told your friends that you would only be fifteen minutes late.

“Wait, what? Hey, hold on, doll.” Jaemin reaches out to you, but you slip past him, calling over your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m late!”

He strides over, soon matching your pace as you speed walk back to the freshman dormitories. “Can’t you slow down a little bit? It’s not like you all haven’t seen these episodes before, plus we watched a few of them together after our last tutoring session.”

“Yeah, but I’m over an hour late,” you stress, slightly frazzled now as you hurriedly type out an apology to send to the group chat.

“Just breathe, okay? You’ll be fine. They’re your friends. They should understand,” Jaemin reassures you, grabbing your hand and you freeze slightly. He notices your stop and teases lightly, “I said slow down, not stop. What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing,” you stammer out a little too quickly, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. He’s holding your hand. Na Jaemin is hand in hand with you, fingers intertwined. You almost want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming.

“Well, alright then, come on, let me walk you back,” Jaemin laughs before tugging you along. “You can help me pick out which pictures to post on Insta along the way, too, yeah?”

“Oh, sure,” you say breathlessly, your heart rate quickening to an embarrassing speed when he squeezes your hand gently, and you nesrly trip over your own feet.

“Perfect, so what about this one?” He holds up his phone to show you the picture you had taken for the group earlier, and you falter slightly. Why are you feeling a little disappointed with his choice?

Jaemin notices your hesitation and says a little softly, “I know you’re a private person. So I thought you’d prefer if I posted the group photo you took. You always take the best pictures for me, too. You know my good side the best. And it’d be weird if Hyuck saw, too, right? But did you want the other photo? I mean, if you really want it, I can..?”

“No!” You hurriedly say to reassure him, squeezing his hand lightly. “No, you’re right. I don’t want my picture out there. And um, yeah, that definitely wouldn’t be good if Hyuck saw.”

Jaemin gives you a relieved smile. “Yeah, exactly. You’re not upset, right, doll? We still have that fun pic of us and our homemade pizzas from earlier that I posted on my finsta. I didn’t know making pizzas would be that easy.”

“Of course not, don’t worry about it,” you laugh softly, continuing to walk back to the freshman dormitories, and Jaemin swings your joined hands between the two of you freely.

“Mm, I’m getting free cooking and tutoring lessons in exchange for dating tips. Two for the price of one is quite the good deal for me, right?” Jaemin teases lightly, and you let out another laugh.

“You’re right, it is. You better step up your game then.”

“Oh, just you wait, you’ll get dating tips and a boyfriend, so we’ll be even,” Jaemin chuckles softly, squeezing your hand, and the butterflies erupt in your stomach once again, and you muster up the courage to say something a little more teasing.

“Is that a guarantee?”

“Well, you have a demand, and I must supply, right?”

“…I don’t think that’s how it quite goes, Jaemin. Maybe you need a few more tutoring sessions.”

“All I hear is that you want to spend more time with me,” Jaemin laughs, giving you the prettiest smile, and your cheeks warm up even more, heart stuttering in your chest. Speechless, you let him continue on, his chattering filling the air as you listen with quiet content, your hand securely tucked in his for the remainder of the walk back.

vi. you can brush my hair.

Jaemin sits on the edge of his chair across from you at the table in the dorm common area, anxiously tapping his fingers against the flat surface. You are down to the last page of the mock exam packet, carefully going over his work with a red pen. You made minimal marks on the papers, a stark contrast to the very first practice exam he had worked on near the start of your tutoring. At that point in time, he didn’t even get to the end of the exam.

“Amazing.”

You say in awe, scanning through the last problem Jaemin had completed before tallying up his final score and calculating his results. “I can’t believe it. You got an 87.”

“No fucking way,” Jaemin is wide eyed, staring at you in disbelief, and you give him a wide smile, sliding the packet over to him, so that he can look over the exam and notes you’ve written for the problems he missed. 

“Yes fucking way.”

“Holy shit, this is insane,” Jaemin breathes out, carefully reading through each page, and to his utter amazement, he understands every note and explanation you had added next to each incorrect question. He looks up at you, beaming, “I really got a B+?”

“You did,” you confirm, smiling back at him. “And who knows? It might become an A if the exam gets curved.”

“Oh my god, I owe you my life,” Jaemin chuckles, staring down at the graded exam in front of him, still in disbelief. “Seriously, doll, thank you so much.”

“Oh, of course, anytime,” you laugh sheepishly, twisting the rings adorning your fingers around nervously before averting your attention elsewhere, standing up to go towards the adjacent communal kitchen and carrying your filled tote bag with you. “A—Anyway, I brought some things to celebrate a job well done so far.”

“And how did you know I would’ve done well? What if I completely bombed that exam?” Jaemin teases you, standing up and following after you.

“I don’t know, I guess I just believed in you,” you stutter out, cheeks warming up as you set down your tote bag on the counter, unable to look him in the eyes, and he freezes, mulling over your words silently.

You believe in him? Someone who’s a hopeless cause? He honestly didn’t even believe in himself, he thinks to himself, his chest constricting uncomfortably, a foreign feeling making its entrance known to him, constricting around his heart. He inhales sharply, shoving it away with an easy going smile. “Is that so? Well, thanks, Y/N. And what are we doing now?”

“Making pancakes,” you answer, busying yourself with pulling out the ingredients from your tote bag. “You need to be well fed before the midterm. Your brain needs food. And the class is at 8 am, and neither of us are not morning people, so this is as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Pancakes?” Jaemin echoes after you, glancing at the various items strewn across the counter’s surface. “Does it really take this many ingredients? Isn’t it just the box mix and water?”

“That’s the short cut way. We’re making pancakes from scratch,” you laugh softly, taking out a mixing bowl and whisk along with the measuring cups and spoons. 

“But why? It’s so much easier the other way.” Jaemin whines softly, and you chuckle lightly. “Trust me, it’s worth the effort.”

You hand the one cup measuring utensil and bowl to Jaemin and nudge him towards the flour. “Help me measure out two cups of flour.”

“Alright,” he sighs, opening the bag of flour and carefully scooping out the first cup, scraping off any excess before dumping it into the bowl before repeating the process. “What next?”

“Four tablespoons of sugar,” you answer, handing him the sugar and appropriate measuring utensil before working on measuring four teaspoons of baking powder and a quarter of a teaspoon of baking soda. You pour those to the mixing bowl as Jaemin quietly measures the sugar and adds it in as well before waiting for your next instructions. You quickly drop in half of a teaspoon of salt before pushing the bowl towards him. “Now whisk this together gently, please.”

Jaemin busies himself with combining the dry ingredients as you take out half a stick of butter from the fridge (The one labeled with your name, of course. You’re no food thief, unlike someone who’s been stealing other people’s leftover takeout). You microwave it to get four tablespoons of melted butter before making your way to Jaemin’s side.

“Okay, now make a well in the center of it,” you say, and Jaemin clumsily makes an indent in the dry mixture before looking towards you for approval.

“Perfect, now add in two teaspoons of vanilla extract and crack the egg into it there,” you instruct him, and he obediently follows your directions. You measure out one and three quarters cups of milk and add it to the well before also pouring in the melted butter.

“Do I just whisk it together now?” Jaemin asks, picking up the whisk again, and you nod.

“Yes, mix it all together. It’s fine if there’s a few lumps, but it should be smooth overall.” Your eyes trail over his face, and you stifle a small laugh. “You got a little something on your cheek.”

“What?” Jaemin looks up, pausing in his whisking and you can’t help but giggle, staring at the flour dusting his cheek. “There’s flour on your face.”

“Oh, really? Can you wipe it off for me?” Jaemin laughs softly, attempting to brush at it with his shoulder but failing to reach that high.

“Oh, s-sure,” you stammer slightly, your hand quivering slightly as you outstretch your fingers and gingerly brush your fingertips against the apple of his cheek. His sun kissed skin is warm beneath your fingertips, and your breath hitches in your throat before you gently wipe away the remaining residue. You can feel his gaze searing into your face, but you refuse to look him directly in the eyes.

“There, all done,” you murmur, hastily pulling away and taking a step back. Jaemin lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. He clears his throat, setting down the bowl. “I think this is all done, too.”

“Oh, great, that’s great,” you say, immediately focusing on the bowl before carrying it with you towards the stove, turning it on. “Let’s set this to medium-low heat. And I’ll add some butter to the pan, so the pancake won’t stick.”

Jaemin hands you the leftover butter and pan for you to set onto the stove. You use the spatula to move around a pat of butter, coating the pan nicely. Once the stove is ready and the butter starts to sizzle slightly, you pour a quarter cup of the batter onto the pan, expertly flicking your wrist to rotate the pan and cause the batter to form a perfect circle. You pull out a small container of blueberries, sprinkling some of them on top.

“Woah.” Jaemin watches you, impressed. “Teach me how to do that.”

“This? It’s easy,” you laugh softly, checking on the pancake until its underside is golden and small bubbles start to form on the top. You quickly move the pan, flipping the pancake onto its other side. “You can try making the next one.”

“Yeah? Will you wrap your arms around me and give me the one on one experience?” Jaemin jokes lightheartedly, and you nearly choke. “I mean—I don’t think that's completely necessary.”

“Relax, doll, I’m just kidding,” he laughs softly, nudging you gently, and you let out an awkward laugh. “Oh, totally. Just a joke.”

Once the pancake is golden on both sides, you carefully slide it onto a plate Jaemin pulled out from one of the cabinets. Your heart rate finally returns to its normal state, and you manage to say calmly, “Maple syrup and whipped cream are in the fridge.” 

Jaemin takes out the aforementioned toppings, generously slathering on some butter before pouring the syrup and spraying whipped cream onto the pancake. He cuts out a small piece and quickly spears it onto his fork before taking the bite, nearly moaning in delight at the first taste.

“Holy crap, this is so fucking good.”

“My secret recipe,” you say proudly as you start to pour the batter for a second pancake, evenly spreading it on the pan. “Was it worth the effort?”

“Yes.” Jaemin swallows, almost immediately going for another bite before he gazes at you, giving you a genuine smile, and your heart rate again increases to an alarming speed.

“Definitely worth it.”

vii. undress me everywhere.

You finish the midterm in forty five minutes, being the first one to turn in your completed exam. This  means you finished twenty minutes before the class ends and consequently, either failed it spectucularly or knocked it out of the park. You really hope it’s the latter.

Despite being rather preoccupied with other matters a.k.a. your suddenly thriving social life, you managed to cram in some studying here and there because your mother would absolutely kill you if you lost your provost scholarship. Gifted kid burnout? Who’s that? You never heard of her before (Just kidding, you’ve had plenty of breakdowns and cry fests over calculating bond values and stock prices).

Now outside of the classroom in one of the open study alcoves, you drop your Longchamp bag on the empty chair next to you before tugging at the back of your jean skirt before carefully sitting down. You make sure to readjust your bra straps, tucking them under the ruched fabric of your white shirt. Tapping your fingers against the scratched surface of the table, you briefly admire the shimmery gold ombré manicure adorning your nails that Jaemin had chosen last week. You pull out a compact from the inner side pocket of your purse, carefully checking your makeup to ensure it is still in pristine condition before quickly swiping in another layer of your Buxom plumping lip gloss in the best shade: fir royale.

The flurry of text messages pinging across your screen quickly catches your attention, and you tuck your mirror and tube of lip gloss away before scrolling through them, letting out a quiet scoff at Karina’s latest melodramatic outburst in the clout chasers group chat:

[ 11:46 a.m. ] karebear ✨: guys, gals, and yuckjun

[ 11:46 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: what tf ??? why are you calling me out

[ 11:46 a.m. ] karebear ✨: shut up or else I won’t make out with you anymore

[ 11:46 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: 🤐

[ 11:46 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: are you that touch starved bro

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: anyway as i was saying

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: this skank in my marketing class has been copying my outfits and posting them on her insta and she has like 10k followers now

[ 11:47 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: time to tear a bitch apart

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: like look at this shit

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: sent {10 images.jpeg}

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: my followers are gonna rip her apart

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: she’s downgrading my brand

[ 11:47 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: dw girl i’ll do a response video so my followers will see too

[ 11:48 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: she can’t get away with this

[ 11:48 a.m. ] karebear ✨: loved a message

[ 11:48 a.m. ] somi amor 💋: idk… they’re similar styles but that’s what popular rn

[ 11:48 a.m. ] karebear ✨: it’s gonna be song jia 2.0 watergate

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: just say you’re broke and go

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: if she’s gonna plagiarize me, she better do it right like bffr walmart version 

[ 11:49 a.m. ] somi amor 💋: you have proof they’re fake? 

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: i mean fake bitch fake bags right

[ 11:49 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: idk she’s kinda hot

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: shut up jen be like your hairline and fall back

[ 11:49 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: HELLO ?! back me up yeonjun

[ 11:50 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: um

[ 11:50 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: 🤐

[ 11:51 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: if you wanna be fucking stupid then knock yourself out

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: loved a message

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: hey my place tonight jun 🥰

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: are you gonna listen to your own advice yj

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: excuse me ????

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: 🤐🤐🤐

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: proverbs 26:11

“Hey, doll, what’s so funny?” 

Jaemin appears next to you, and you let out a startled squeak, jumping in your seat, and he laughs, quickly placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you. You look at him wide eyed for a few seconds, his question not yet registering in your mind, and he waits patiently for your answer.

“Oh!” Your eyes light up, and he smiles at the endearing sight. “Just Karina ranting about something and Yeonjun being whipped.”

“Ah, so the usual?” He reaches for your bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and you stand up, pulling your skirt down once more to ensure you’re covered. The two of you start to make your way out of the Langley Hall. 

“Yep. How was the midterm for you?”

He brightens up, opening the door for you and you thank him. “It wasn’t too bad at all! I actually understood like 90% of the questions and for the others, I was able to narrow down the answers between two choices, so 50/50 chance, fingers crossed I picked the right one.”

You beam when you hear that, and he returns the smile, eyes crinkling in the corners, and you pretend to wipe away faux tears. “I feel like a proud mom.”

“I think my mom actually will be proud,” he says, eyes scanning the cars parked on the nearby street before finding his. He grabs your hand, tugging you along. “C’mon, we gotta go celebrate that our misery is over until finals week. Plus, we gotta prep you when you talk to Hyuck.”

“Wait, what?” You abruptly stop short, and he nearly loses his grip on your hand. “When am I talking to him?”

“This Saturday. You’re coming with me to the Nu Chi party, right?”

“Since when? I don’t go to parties,” you protest, “They’re too loud and noisy, and beer is gross and—”

“You went to the Alpha Sigma one a few weeks ago though?” Jaemin interrupts, and you shake your head. “That was a small party though. This one is the party of the semester. What if I embarrassed myself in front of the entire school?”

“Parties are the prime time for meeting people and getting to know them because alcohol makes everyone friendlier and people don’t stay within their friend groups,” Jaemin interrupts. “Do you really believe that you’ll get him to like you by, I don’t know, one day, your eyes will meet across the classroom, and he’ll fall madly in love with you? This isn’t one of your fanfics, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, letting go of his hand on purpose, and he frowns, bottom lip jutting out in a pout before reaching out for your hand again. You swiftly dodge him, and he whines, quickly snatching your hand up and lacing your and his fingers together.

“I hope this isn’t how you’ll treat him on your date. Thank god we’re doing a trial run right now.”

“A trial run?” you echo him, and he nods, flashing you that favorite smile of his that never fails to make you weak in the knees.

“Well, we have to make sure your first date goes perfectly so there will be a second, right? Practice makes perfect,” he says matter-of-factly, and you nod slowly in agreement. The logic makes sense somehow. 

“Okay, so where would you pick for a first date?”

“Maybe a cute cafe? Oh, there’s that one place: Cloudy with a Chance of Boba!” You brighten up, thinking about that boba shop’s menu you spent a good half hour scrolling through on Yelp last night.

“Mm, the most popular place right now is that ramen place on the end of Maisie Street. It’d probably be best to go there,” he muses, tugging you along via your intertwined hands. You nearly stumble in your heeled sandals but swiftly catch yourself.

“O-oh, okay, so are we going there now?”

“Nah, let’s do the ice cream place next door to it. Not really feeling noodles at the moment.” He stops to look over his shoulder at you, and you run into his back, causing him to let go before quickly reaching out and grabbing your arms to steady you. “Woah, be careful.”

“Sorry.” You’re flustered, your cheeks now growing hotter than a furnace. Jaemin reaches forward, his finger carefully swiping at the smudged lip gloss on the corner of your lip. “Where’s your lip gloss? You should reapply this.”

Eyes widening, he then shifts and peers behind him, craning his neck to the side in all attempts to look at the back of his shirt. “There’s not a mark on my shirt, right?” 

You quickly rub off any shimmery residue. “It’s fine, your shirt is dark blue, so you can’t see it anymore.” 

“Oh, good. Wait, where’s your lip gloss?” You fish through your bag, pulling out the tube and handing it to Jaemin. He uncaps it, giving you the lower half of the gloss before gently grasping your chin with one hand. He leans forward and tilts your head towards him, his eyes focused on your lips. The butterflies in your stomach erupt in an instant. You try so hard to stand still, fidgeting with one of the rings on your finger behind your back. 

Jaemin’s face is so close to yours that you can count every single long dark eyelash that frames his pretty eyes. His lips are the prettiest shade of carmine, and you wonder what it’s like to be Aphrodite’s favorite child. How lucky you are to already be basking in the attention of her favorite; imagine how much luckier he is to be her favorite.

The beautiful boy in front of you carefully applies the gloss for you, fully concentrating on coating your lips with a pretty sheen once again. When he glances up, he’s almost blown away by the way you’re looking at him. 

You look stunning, pretty as a picture in VOGUE magazine. Not quite the cover page, but you’re nearly there. A swell of pride runs through his veins, like an artist admiring his latest masterpiece on show in MOMA.

“Anyway,” he clears his throat, handing back to you the lip gloss. “Let’s go. We’re almost there.”

“Alright.” You follow behind him like a lost puppy, and he reaches back to grab your hand and interlace your fingers. Your heart nearly skips a beat as your cheeks grow warmer once again, and for a split second, you wonder if he feels the same way.

“We’re here,” Jaemin announces, letting go of your hand to open the shop’s door, the bell above it jingling faintly as he gestures for you to go inside.

You enter the pretty shop, marveling the clean and simple interior with circular white tables and matching garden iron chairs surrounding each one. There’s bright greenery and plants decorating the edges of the shop, and the wall is covered in mismatched frames of paintings and pictures in various sizes and colors. The cheeky neon sign displayed near the front read, “It’s not gonna lick itself!”, and you laugh softly when you see it. The display of different colorful ice creams at the front are absolutely enticing, and you’re already struggling to decide which two flavors to pick.

You finally decide on a Vietnamese coffee and honeycomb swirl, accepting it from the cashier before you start to pull out your wallet. Before you can even pull out your card, Jaemin taps his phone against the screen, paying for both yours and his.

“Never pay on the first date,” he chides you lightly, picking up his ice cream. “Always let the guy pay for the first date.”

“Oh, but shouldn’t we at least split it?” You ask sheepishly, walking towards a table near the back that he gestures towards. He follows behind you, picking up some spoons and napkins.

“If the guy is so broke that he can’t pay $7 for your ice cream, then he shouldn’t be out dating anyway. He should be getting a job,” Jaemin retorts, tugging your chair out for you before sitting across from you and handing you a spoon and napkin. “Don’t you watch that Shera lady? Sprinkle, sprinkle and all that jazz. Maybe you can split for the future dates, but if the guy has any basic decency, he would pay for the first one.”

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” you sigh, taking a hefty scoop of your ice cream and having the first bite. It’s delicious, and you make a mental note to buy a pint and bring back to your dorm to share with Giselle later.

The two of you continue to discuss various appropriate topics to broach on a first date (“Hey Jaemin, you like cheese? My favorite’s Gouda.” “… Please do not ask that.”). You quickly jot down bullet points in your Notes app, your fingers flying over the screen as Jaemin instructs you on good conversational starters and body language.

“So you just need to touch him on his upper forearm and then pull away. Stroke his ego and say he’s funny or some shit like that. At least you don’t have to force yourself to laugh with him though because Hyuck is naturally funny anyway. And he’s good at keeping up the conversation and a people person, so it won’t be awkward even for your first date,” Jaemin continues as you nod, rapidly typing what he says.

“And at the end of the date, touch his shoulder again, glance down at his lips for a brief second before making eye contact. If he’s bold enough, he’ll go for the first kiss. But then just immediately smile and say you had a great time before he can lean in. After that, he won’t stop thinking about that moment, and it’ll drive him crazy, and he’ll be texting you for a second date within the next day.”

“Mm, okay, I think I got it,” you mumble absentmindedly, engrossed in writing down the last few bullet points and Jaemin leans over to take a closer look at your phone, his eyes flitting over the screen.

“So for the last point, do I have to deny the first kiss then? Smile and walk away before he leans in and…” 

You start to ask until you look up, and your breath hitches in your throat at the close proximity, your and his noses almost brushing. Jaemin is so pretty, even prettier when you can count the few freckles dotting his face, can clearly see the mesmerizing golden flecks dotting his irises, can admire the way his lips look so soft and curve into the picture perfect smile. Your heart thumps wildly, nearly falling onto the floor along with your jaw when you glance up from staring at his lips and see that he’s already looking back at you with the softest expression on his face.

“You don’t have to,” Jaemin murmurs, and your heart stutters in your chest as he moves in closer, his lashes brushing against your cheek, and suddenly, his lips are pressed against yours. They’re pink and soft and slot perfectly against yours in a way that has your heart skipping beats and stomach doing cartwheels.

Eyes widening, you freeze up, letting out a quiet squeak of surprise, before he pulls away, giving you an amused smile. The lingering warmth on your lips makes your cheeks heat up, and you have to break eye contact, stammering over your words as you gently graze your fingers over your lips in wonderment.

Jaemin laughs softly as he leans back in his chair. “We’ll have to work on this too then. You’re kissing like it’s a Park Shinhye kdrama.”

You’re still dazed, cheeks growing even warmer as you avoid his gaze, fiddling with the loose thread on the hem of your skirt. “That was my first kiss.”

Jaemin pauses at the realization, his cheeks flushing slightly before he clears his throat, giving you a half smile and a light chuckle, “Oh, really? That’s cute, doll. Well, I’ll teach you some tips, so you’ll be better at it by the time you ask Hyuck out. At least you got a decent first kiss, right? No big deal.”

“Yeah, no big deal,” you echo softly, your heart still racing at breakneck speed. You pretend to focus on the remnants of your ice cream in the bottom of your paper cup, fingers gripping around the container tightly.

Jaemin was right.

You don’t think you’ll be able to stop thinking about this moment anytime soon.

viii. come on, barbie, let’s go party!

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

Moon asks worriedly, helping you with your makeup as you sit, perched on the edge of your bed. She uncaps your eyeliner as Lana fusses with your shirt, smoothing out any of the wrinkles. “Actually, I can’t do it. You do it, Yang. You’re an expert at this.”

“Alright, give it to me.” Yangyang comes over, grabbing the eyeliner and expertly draws on the wing above your right eye. “Years of cosplay have finally come in handy. Although, I still can’t believe you’re putting in all this effort for Jaemin.”

“I need to look pretty. He usually does my makeup for me, but he’s busy right now,” you mumble, twisting the ring around your finger anxiously. “It’s my first time going to a party. I can’t embarrass him when he’s a ten.”

“Yeah, in rupees,” Yangyang scoffs, and Lana frowns at you, stopping in her tracks. “Don't talk about yourself like that. You’re already pretty, and if anything, you should be embarrassed to be seen with that slime ball. I can’t believe he doesn’t even have the decency to pick you up. Why are you the one going to his place?”

“He has some frat meeting right now,” you answer, glancing down at your newly manicured nails. The pearl color shimmers under the light, and you can’t help but admire it even more. You wish they were a little shorter, but they really do look quite pretty.

“What meeting? We’re in the same frat. Also, hold still,” Yangyang huffs, holding your chin as he draws on the left wing over your eye. “We need them to look like twins, not cousins twice removed.”

“I don’t know, he just said there was some meeting,” you mumble, holding perfectly still until he finally finishes. “Maybe it was a one on one meeting or something, who knows?”

“I still think he’s shady,” Lana grumbles, and Moon nods as well. “Yeah, like the first kiss thing?”

“It’s no big deal,” you wave your hand dismissively, hopping off of your bed and taking a look at yourself in your mirror. “Better to get it over with, right? I mean, imagine being this old and not having your first kiss yet.”

“Is that what he said to you?” Moon huffs, affronted, and you shift in your place uncomfortably. “No, of course not. It’s just—everyone gets their first kiss when they’re like fourteen or fifteen, right?”

“That’s not the point,” Lana says indignantly, tucking your hair behind your ear carefully. “You wanted it to be special, didn’t you? It just feels like… he took something away from you.”

“He didn’t. I wanted this,” you answer loudly, ignoring the way your stomach flip flops as you try not to think back to that moment. He kissed you, he really does like you back, he might have not said it out loud, but he knows how much it means to you (Wouldn’t he?).

“Okay, as long as you’re happy,” Moon gives in, and she and Lana exchange a worried look that goes unnoticed by you. But what can they do? They can continue to try convincing you, but it will never work when it falls on deaf ears. 

“I am,” you insist, avoiding your friends’ gazes and staring at yourself back in the mirror. Moon attempts to lift the mood again, offering you a tentative smile in the reflection. “This whole thing is like a whole emotional rollercoaster, and Yangyang is definitely not tall enough to ride.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m literally almost six foot tall,” Yangyang shoots back, and you laugh, relaxing once more as you watch your friends start to bicker again.

“Listen, you can’t be delusional and short. Pick a struggle.” Moon counters, and Lana agrees, handing you your phone to tuck into your pocket. “She’s right. You carry yourself with the confidence of a much taller man.”

You smile fondly as the bickering between your friends continues. You miss them, you realize with a jolting pang of regret, you haven’t been hanging out with them as often as you used to. In fact, the majority of your weeks are spent with Jaemin and his friends.

It’s your first cold dose of reality, and you’re hit with a startling truth. You haven’t been a very good friend lately.

—

Lana drove you to the Nu Chi Theta house, and you felt like a kindergartener being dropped for her first day of school. Your face feels hot as a wave of embarrassment rushes over you as you notice the amount of glances you receive from the insanely pretty girls and boys already on the front lawn and streaming out from the front door. You quickly exit the vehicle, hurriedly waving good bye over your shoulder before making your way into the house, almost tripping over the raised walkway.

You wander around the house, searching for Jaemin and quickly sidestepping a through the couples and other students dancing around, nearly getting bowled over by someone you recognize from your school’s football team. He gives you a quick once over before offering a half apology, eyes set on another girl on the other side of the room. You take a deep breath before pushing your way into the next room, finally spotting Jaemin with his friends, minus Jeno and Somi, by the staircase and letting out a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” you say breathlessly, squeezing through two couples busily making out in the doorway and wincing slightly when you jostle both of them, causing them to give you dirty looks before resuming their activities. 

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Karina says brightly, giving you a perfect smile and reaching over to squeeze your arm gently. “We didn’t think you’d make it.”

“My first frat party? Of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” you laugh, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear nervously before fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Jaemin gives you a small smile, and you return it with a slightly shaky one, your eyes flickering towards the fading pink, glossy lip mark staining the collar of his shirt. The color is much too dark to be Jaemin’s, and your stomach churns slightly.

“You look so pretty, Y/N, I love the confidence,” Lia chimes in, gently pinching the fabric of your skirt between her manicured fingers. “I love this, you’ll have to let me borrow it sometime.”

“Oh, of course! You can borrow it anytime,” you agree quickly, flashing her a slightly forced smile before glancing over at Jaemin again, unsure what to do.

“Where do you shop?” Yeonjun asks, glancing over at your outfit. “The shirt is nice, too.”

“Oh my god, yes, we have to go shopping together sometime, and you’ll have to show me all the good places,” Karina cuts in, nudging you gently before letting out a sigh, looking over at Lia. “God, I’ve been feeling so fat lately, like freshman twenty might be getting to me.”

“No, same, I’ve been extending my gym sessions and doing Pilates,” Lia huffs softly, and you remain silent, switching your weight around on each foot, glancing over at Jaemin helplessly.

“I need another drink. You coming, Y/N?” Jaemin finally speaks up before brushing past Yeonjun, and you hurriedly follow behind him, careful not to fall behind or get swept away. He quickly pushes through to the kitchen, finding a spot next to the counter covered in various bottles of cheap alcohol and stacks of red solo cups dispersed in between.

“You want one?” Jaemin asks, extending a shot of vodka he just poured out towards you, and you shake your head before he gives a wry smile. “You sure? It’ll help with the nerves. You were shaking back there.”

Your cheeks grow warm. “You noticed?”

“Everybody noticed,” he snorted, handing you the cup, and you wince slightly before holding your nose and downing it in one go. “Give me another then.”

“Atta girl,” Jaemin hands you another shot and you take that one just as quickly, making a face that causes him to smile subconsciously. As he pours himself a cup of beer, he spots Donghyuck by the pool out back, and a knot settles in his stomach uncomfortably. He almost doesn’t want to tell you, and he doesn’t know why. It’s just because he worked so hard to make you look this good, and his loudmouth friend gets to reap all the benefits, he tells himself, taking a swig of his drink, Donghyuck doesn’t know how lucky he is.

Ignoring all the stop signs and whistles going off in his head, he gestures towards Donghyuck outside, clenching the red cup in his hand a little tighter than normal. “There’s your chance. Gotta do it before the alcohol wears off.”

“Oh, um, actually, I wanted to talk to you,” you stammer out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear again (It’s one of your habits when you’re nervous, and he thinks it might be his favorite). He pushes down the growing knot in his stomach.

“We’ll talk later, yeah? You can’t miss this,” Jaemin insists before nudging you in the direction of the pool outside despite your soft protests.

“W-wait, I  jus—” you say desperately, but Jaemin merely waves you off before disappearing back into the party inside. You let out a sigh, shoulders sagging slightly. You wouldn’t want to disappoint him after all the effort he put in these past four weeks.

You’ll tell him later.

—

“Oh? Where’s your little Barbie doll, Jaemin?” Karina simpers as she lazily taps her pretty manicured nails against the half filled red solo cup in her other hand when Jaemin returns to his original spot. “Have you gotten bored of playing with her yet?”

“It’s not like that,” Jaemin answers hotly, “She’s… fun. She makes me laugh.”

“How? By looking at her?” Yeonjun snorts, chugging his own cup before crinkling it in his fist. Jaemin wants to throw up. “We thought you just did this because you’ve been having a dry spell and were bored. Where is she anyway?

 “She’s talking to Hyuck right now,” Jaemin mumbles meekly, shoulders slightly hunched over as he stares into the depths of his own solo cup.

“Really? I mean, is she even his type?” Lia asks skeptically, straightening up in her spot to see if she can spot you or Donghyuck anywhere. “If anything, I thought her friend—the pretty English major one—would be his type. How is she anyone’s type?”

“Hey, he turned her from a four to a solid eight. She might even go up half a point once you introduce her to an exercise and diet plan.” Karina says offhandedly, raising her cup towards him in mock salute before taking a sip.

“Yeah, how are you going to do that? It’s not like you can even sugarcoat it for her because then she’d eat it too,” Yeonjun throws out with a smirk, and Jaemin feels sick to his stomach, the nauseating feeling growing exponentially and gnawing at him as his friend continues, “I mean she’s probably already on the seafood diet because she sees any food and just eats it. How can you even stand her, Jae? The way she just follows you around like a puppy. Isn’t it annoying?”

“God, I know, the way she basically chases after us like a lap dog is so pathetic. At least she takes good insta pics for us though, so she’s somewhat useful. But we had that one really good group photo at that last party, and she totally ruined the picture. You can’t even crop her out because she had to stand next to you, Jae,” Lia complains, rolling her eyes, and Karina laughs, taking out her phone and scrolling through her photos.

“Oh my god, I know  the exact photo you’re talking about. It’s this one, right? She practically threw herself into your arms,” She flashes her screen towards the group, and Jaemin wants to shrink and crawl into a hole somewhere and die. Was it the best photo of you? No. Was it the worst? Maybe close to it. You’re standing sideways and still taking up more space in the photo than the others, and the flash photography did not do any favors for you. You stand out even worse than Will Smith in the sunflower costume meme. He cringes inwardly, noting the way your skirt had rolled up and you’re smiling a little too widely. He makes a mental note to help you practice  better, more flattering poses later on.

“You know that famous baby hippo? Moo Deng? I think we found her twin from the future,” Yeonjun barks out a laugh, reaching over and zooming in on you as Karina smirks before putting away her phone. Lia giggles and glances over at Jaemin, scrutinizing his reaction before a sly expression makes an appearance on her face, saying coyly, “You have a crush on her, don’t you?”

Jaemin flushes, embarrassment coating his cheeks, and he immediately snaps, “Shut up, I might be lonely, but I’m not despera—”

“Oh, Y/N!” Lia says loudly, effectively cutting Jaemin short. “How did it go? Are you and Hyuck gonna be the new couple on campus?”

Immediately, his heart drops even further to his stomach, and Jaemin whirls around to see you standing a few feet away. Did Lia know you were there?  How long were you standing there? Did you hear them? Did you hear every horrible thing they said about you?

“Oh, Donghyuck said he wasn’t interested, but he was nice about it,” you say, offering a vague smile in Jaemin’s direction, and he nearly breathes a sigh of relief as his heart starts to slow back down to its normal rate. A part of him is glad that Donghyuck rejected you, and he nearly misses what you say next, too caught up in this unfamiliar feeling.

“I think I’m going to head back to my dorm. I’m a little tired. Thank you for inviting me.”

With that, you turn away and walk off, but something still doesn’t feel right to Jaemin. It’s a split second decision but for once, he puts his heart over his mind and chases after you, ignoring the increasing whispers from his friends and their eyes searing into his back.

ix. raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by na jaemin.

Jaemin is right on your heels the entire time you walk back to your dorm. All he receives is stony silence from you that he fills with babbling nonsense, asking you what’s wrong to no avail. When you finally enter your dorm, you turn to him at last, and he perks up. However, the two words that come out of your mouth have him deflating faster than Yangyang’s ego when Alice called him a shitty kisser with too much saliva (“You’re supposed to make me wet down there, not up here. Honestly, dude, if I wanted to drown myself, I would’ve jumped into the ocean.”).

“We’re done.”

You decide to bite the bullet.

After freeing your feet from their pointy death contraptions, you peel off each layer of clothing one by one, unzipping the mini skirt and kicking it away before tugging at the spandex, unleashing the breath you’ve been holding in since 8 a.m. to fit into it. There’s still indents marking the dips in your waist and your thighs, a lasting reminder that stays like an embarrassing stain. You fling that abhorrent piece of elastic elsewhere, and it falls near the end of your bed, out of sight behind the pile of textbooks you haven’t touched for the past three days.

“Hold on, what are you talking about? We made so much progress. You wanted to do this,” Jaemin protests, following after you and picking up the discarded garments you threw haphazardly. He waves around the skirt like a white flag. “You wanted to be in the popular crowd, and you got it. You’re this close to dating Hyuck. Yeah, he might’ve said no now, but we’ll come up with a new plan—You can bounce back from this! Why are you quitting now?”

Removing the off-the-shoulder pink top that restricts your arm movement, you quickly slip on an oversized sweater before reaching back and unhooking the strapless bra whose underwire has been digging into your ribs for so many hours, a sigh of relief escaping between your teeth. You toss it onto your chair without another care in the world, and it lands next to the shirt in a heap.

“Because this isn’t me. This isn’t what I like.”

“Of course, it is. This is still you: just new and improved,” he insists, frantically attempting to hand you your discarded shirt and pleather skirt. You ignore them, opting to pull out and put on your favorite pair of stretched out gym shorts from middle school that you had shoved in the back of your closet to make room for all the flashy clothing Jaemin picked out for you. “We’re having fun. You’re popular and pretty now. You’re almost dating Donghyuck. You have everything that everyone wants. You’re the girl the boys want to be with, the girl all the other girls want to be.”

You shake your head, reaching for the packet of makeup wipes near your sink. “It’s not what I want.”

Jaemin scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous. What are you talking about? This is what you asked me to do.”

You throw him a scathing glare, and he takes a step back. “God, Jaemin, for once in your life, take off the stupid rose colored heart shades, and you’ll finally see all the red flags around you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jaemin asks defensively. He thought everything was going according to plan; he’s going to pass macroeconomics, and you got to talk to Donghyuck and are this close to scoring a date with him. People notice you wherever you go, the two of you receive compliments, his friends like you, everyone likes you.

“I have to pretend to like things I hate and hate the things I like. I have to do things a certain way, act a certain way, pretend this is all effortless. I don’t know if people are being genuine or pretending like I am. I hate this—this fake version of me.” You spit the words out like fuel to a fire, and you stand there in all your blazing glory, ugly uniform shorts and all.

“My thighs keep chafing. My feet have blisters everyday from these boots. This foundation makes me break out even more, and I can’t type up my notes in class or write fast enough because of these nails, and my grades almost took a plunge. I’m basically freezing my tits off out there in a shirt I don’t like. The lashes make my eyes itch, and this skirt is so short that I have to keep pulling it down every five seconds before I end up flashing someone.”

You don’t recognize the girl in your mirror anymore. You pluck off the falsies lining your eyes, scrubbing furiously at the layers of expensive brand name makeup covering your skin.  You wipe off every inch of it until your bare face stares back at you, slightly puffy, blemishes, faded acne scars and all. You feel like you can breathe a little better now.

“Did you really think it’s easy being one of us? Do you think people will notice you if you show up in sweats with Cheetos stains?” Jaemin stares at you incredulously. “This is how it is. I don’t get why you’re throwing it all away like this.”

“And yet, you were all for it when I threw away everything before.”

“Because you asked for it! You asked me to—to make you into someone Donghyuck would date!”

“You don’t get it.” You whirl around on your heels to face him instead of the mirror, and the anger and intensity laced in your voice nearly blows him away. “I like myself the way I am. I never hated myself. I may be insecure about how I look sometimes, but who isn’t? Yeah, I like wearing cherry lip gloss and mascara sometimes. It’s fun trying out new hairstyles and clothes and learning to do better makeup. I like getting dressed up for special occasions. I like doing these things on my own terms. But this? What I’m doing to myself right now? This isn’t the same. Am I supposed to keep up this charade for the rest of my life? If I do eventually go out with Donghyuck, am I gonna have to keep lying to him? To everyone? I want people to like me for me. To actually know me.”

“If this is how you feel, then why would you keep doing this?! If you hate it so much, then why?” He’s frustrated, carding his fingers through his hair as he can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you’re angry over this. You look gorgeous, so what’s the problem?

“Because I liked spending time with you!” you burst out, “I never liked Donghyuck—I liked you. I wanted it to be you. It was fun at first, I did like it at first, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. I can’t be friends with someone who’s ashamed of me.”

There’s a jolt in his heart when he hears your confession, but the second jolt comes quickly afterwards at your last words. Denial is the first stage of grief, and he pales at your final declaration. “What are you talking about? This whole thing is so that Dongh—”

“Oh, please. You can drop the act. This isn’t about Donghyuck anymore. This is about you being too embarrassed to be seen with someone who doesn’t fit your aesthetics.” You air quote the last word for emphasis, and his jaw tightens at that. “You’d rather drop dead than go out with a four like me, right?” You smile sardonically at him. “I may be a four on a seafood diet, but my ears work perfectly fine, Jaemin.”

You heard it all, and Jaemin feels like he is going to throw up. All he can do is scramble and grasp for the last remaining straws, protesting vehemently, “I wasn’t the one who said any of that!”

You laugh humorlessly, “Is that supposed to make it better? You’re better than them because you didn’t say it out loud? You didn’t deny it or defend me either, so what’s your point? 

His mouth goes dry, and he opens and shuts it several times. Swallowing harshly, he barely manages to croak out a weak reply. “That’s— I didn’t mean—I only really thought that before I knew you.”

“And that’s just it, isn’t it? You already judged me before you even knew me based on how I look. Even now, you still judge me.” He starts to open his mouth again, but you merely shrug as if you’ve accepted this for all your life, and he closes it meekly, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably, unable to meet your eyes

“That’s okay. I’m used to it. That’s how it is for people like me. I know I’m not someone people fall head over heels for immediately. I’m the one who reaches out to people first. Guys don’t fall over at my feet, wanting to carry my books to class for me. The pretty girls ask me to take their Insta pictures for them. I don’t get free drinks at the bar or invited to all the parties. I’ve never been asked out by a total stranger, and no one writes their number on my cup of coffee,” you say matter-of-factly, a resigned smile on your face, and it has him curling into himself internally, his conscience slowly eating away at him.

“And you know what?” you continue, “That's life. That’s okay because I’m happy with who I am. I like who I am. If I have to give myself up to get Donghyuck or you to like me, then he’s—you—are not the one. I shouldn’t change who I am for a boy—or anyone for that matter.”

“That’s not—We were doing this for you. You wanted… you wanted this makeover. You wanted this.” He’s desperately clutching onto the end of the rope, and you’re holding the scissors to cut it off. You show him another half smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“It stopped being about me. It started being about what you wanted, what you liked, what you wanted me to be. I was your charity case, your little Barbie doll.”

You tilt your head to the side, studying the boy in front of you and he silently squirms under your scrutiny. “Tell me one thing, and be honest. Did you even know I existed before Donghyuck mentioned me as a tutoring option? Before you needed me for a grade booster? Would you have liked me then?”

Would you have liked me then? Your question echoes in his mind, and Jaemin freezes, dropping the clothes in his hands. You know. You know he likes you, and the embarrassment creeps up on him in the form of carmine dusting his ears and cheeks, like spilled wine on white linen.

“There are over one hundred students in the class,” he objects. “Sorry for not fighting my way through all of them to find you and have a crush on you sooner.”

Jaemin seems to not realize that he just confirmed his feelings for you aloud, and perhaps, if he had told you this a few weeks ago, you would have been ecstatic and called up Lana and Moon the second he was out of earshot. But this is now, and you’ve grown exponentially since then.

You give him a wistful smile, and as the dread piles up in the pit of his stomach, he knows this is the start of his downfall (or perhaps, he’s already been falling this entire time). He slipped from the pedestal already long ago, and it’s only a matter of time before he hits rock bottom. The higher the pedestal, the harder the fall from grace.

“I sat in front of you diagonally. You asked me to pass notes to my friend. You know, the girl who sat next to me? Alice? The one you asked out and went on a few dates with at the beginning of the semester?” You state the facts calmly, and his eyes widen at that. “It’s okay. But you must’ve remembered that we were in the same group for a presentation last semester, right?”

Jaemin stays silent, and you have your answer. It’s one you’ve known deep down in your heart all this time, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less. After all, someone can announce they’re going to punch you, you can even see the strike coming to your gut, but simply knowing doesn’t do anything to ease the painful aftermath.

You chuckle humorlessly, fingers uncurling and recurling into fists as your nails press moon shaped crescents into your palms before you look him straight in the eyes. “I don’t fit into your cookie cutter life or match your rose colored Instagram filters. I don’t have the perfect model figure or the perfect face. I don’t look like the girl of your dreams, and I know that it just fucking kills you inside that you fell in love with me.”

Jaemin flinches, curling in on himself when he finally meets your gaze and finally sees the absolute hell fires of fury and repugnance ablaze in your eyes. You know that he loves you, and he’s ashamed that you’re right. You’re absolutely right.

Why is he so afraid of loving you?

He loves how smart you are, how witty you are, how funny you are, how genuine you are, how you understand every obscure Haikyuu!! reference he makes, how you laugh at his jokes, how you dm him the funniest memes on Instagram, how you wear your purple scrunchie around your wrist during every exam for good luck and how you let him borrow it too. He loves how you treat him as more than just a pretty face, how you actually listen to him and make him feel like what he says matters, how you make him feel different—special—like he doesn’t have to compete with all the other Barbies and Kens out there. He’s much too vain, much too superficial, much too selfish, much too proud to admit it out loud, but he’s in love with you, and yet, he can’t bring himself to love every single part of you.

And the truth of that matter is the ugliest of all.

But there are standards that he has to uphold, why can’t you understand this? He lowered his standards for you, and you still couldn’t meet them. You have the personality already, you are this close to being the ideal girl, and well, you both have to make changes. It’s the prince and princess who live happily ever after, not the prince and the pauper, or god forbid, the ogre (No offense, Shrek). This is real life, and society has unspoken rules. He sacrificed so much for you, he put his reputation on the line, so why couldn’t you do this for him? After all, love always has some sacrifices.

Right?

But when Jaemin looks at you now, there’s everything, but love staring back at him. You look at him like he’s a repulsive piece of chewed gum stubbornly stuck to the bottom of your Steve Madden heel. It strikes a nerve and completely eats him to the core, but he pulls himself upright because nobody talks to him like that, nobody looks at him like that, certainly not someone like you. He invented you, he made you into the next Princess Mia, the next Cady Heron, the next Serena van der Woodsen, and this is how you show your gratitude?

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me. You act like I’m the first person to judge first based on looks. Everyone does it. Am I supposed to strike up a conversation with every girl on the off chance she’s everything I want? Do you think anyone would fall for you immediately when you looked like that?  The saying is ‘love at first sight’, unless you’re one to believe in the whole ‘love is blind’ idea, which you clearly do,” Jaemin snaps, sneering as he eyes you up and down. His heart and mind are screaming, crying, begging for him to stop, but his pride dropkicks him headfirst into the hole he dug for himself, raging for him to get the upper hand again.

“How is it my fault for not knowing you’re the whole package when the wrapping doesn’t match the contents?”

The unfiltered words slip out of his mouth, and he immediately regrets it, closing his eyes, but it’s too late. He sees the instant look of devastation that appears on your face, and it hits him like a boxer’s punch to the chest. He starts to backtrack to no avail. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.

“I am never going to be enough for you, am I?” you whisper, your breaths stuttering in your chest as your initial sarcasm turns into quiet truths now that eat away at him. “I’m either too much or too little. There’s always going to be something you’ll want to change, something you want to fix.”

“Y/N… I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. It was an accident. I just—”

Jaemin can’t continue on, his voice trailing off as he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to keep apologizing, he’ll do anything it takes to take back what he just said, but the damage has already been dealt. He’s always known he’s an asshole, sure, but this is beyond anything he’s ever said or done in the past. He just secured the seat of honor in Dante's ninth circle of hell, and there’s no return ticket.

“You just what? You thought it would be okay to say anything to my face just because it’s not up to your standards?”

Jaemin’s face pales. “N-no, I—this isn’t how it's supposed to go, I just—It just slipped out, can we start over?” 

A public rejection from any boy or girl would hurt infinitely less than the words Jaemin spat in your face. The things that his friends said before within earshot? You could take it because you couldn’t care less about them at the end of the day. But this? This was coming from someone you trusted, someone you care about, someone you lov—No, you don’t even want to think about that.

Jaemin never loved you. He never even liked you. The harsh reality slaps you like a cold shower in the middle of a winter night, and you want to curl up into a ball under your covers and cry until you fall asleep.

And yet, you will not let him humiliate you any longer. The spell has been broken. Cinderella is back to her rags, and her Prince Charming is nowhere to be found. She’s stuck as a toad that’ll never change. Eyes watering, you inhale sharply, laughing quietly in disbelief before you straighten up and your face hardens.

“Are you actually listening to yourself? You think we can start over? You treat people like they’re disposable, like they’re nothing, and once they don’t match with your theme of the week, you toss them even faster than the time it takes for you to choose an outfit.” Your chest is heaving, and the tears threaten to fall, but you push on, swallowing the lump in your throat. He reaches out for you, and you take a step back, shaking your head.

“You can’t hurt people and expect them to just let it go. I get it, I know I’m not the thinnest, or the nicest, or the funniest, or the smartest, or the prettiest. I know that I’m hard to love. I get it, Jaemin. I’ve always known that.”

You choke on the last sentence, swallowing hard to stifle the hiccup that bubbles up in your throat. “But that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit.”

Rapidly blinking back your tears, you march over to your door and throw it open with such force that the doorknob could have left a dent in the wall. You don’t want to cry, you’ve always been an angry crier, and you desperately want the tears to stop. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry and hearing your confession. He doesn’t deserve any of that. Jaemin doesn’t deserve your tears, and he certainly doesn’t deserve your love.

“Get out.”

Jaemin stares at you, mouth agape like a fish on land. You gesture heatedly towards the outside, choking slightly. “What are you waiting for? I said get out.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Am I a joke to you?” you quietly ask, and his eyes widen.

“No! No, Y/N, you’re not, I jus—”

A single tear manages to escape despite your best, frustrated efforts, and Jaemin instinctively reaches out for you. You swat his hand away, angrily swiping away the stray droplet with the sleeve of your sweater. His heart wrenches in his chest as his hand dangles limply by his side. You’re crying because of him. He caused that, and he feels like the biggest piece of shit in the world.

You refuse to let any more fall, glaring at him through the unshed tears and entirely disgusted with the boy standing in front of you. “Don’t touch me. I’m not crying for you. I’m crying because I’m so angry I wasted all my time on someone who never cared about me.”

That’s not true—I love you, he wants to say, but his mouth refuses to form the words because his pride won’t loosen its grip on his heart. He loves you, he’s in love with you, why can’t you see that?

You steel yourself, taking one shaky breath before looking pointedly at the door and repeating yourself, “Get out. Leave me alone.”

Numbly, he makes his way over to the door, ears ringing. You glower at him, the intensity searing and digging into the side of his face. When he stands outside of your dorm, he struggles to turn around and face you helplessly. Your eyes soften for a moment, and it shoves the dagger deeper into his chest when he recognizes that look. It’s the same look he wore when he first saw you, and the shame that emerges nearly chokes him. The mixture of pity and disappointment painted across your face revolts him entirely, and he feels like he’s going to vomit. Jaemin is utterly humiliated.

Your gaze intensifies once more when you stand up to your full height, stare unwavering and chin raised up. Gripping the doorframe tightly, you drive the final words into his heart like a stake.

“I am too good for you, Jaemin, and I will never love someone like you. I deserve better.”

And for a split second, you almost convinced yourself when you said that.

You shut the door in his face.

Jaemin calls your name through the door several times, desperation ringing clear in his tone, but it falls on deaf ears. Apologies are a fool’s best friend, and you’d be a fool yourself to believe them. Holding your breath, you wait until you hear his footsteps echo down the hallway, until the solitude greets you like an old friend. And at last, you drop the facade and let yourself cry. Back pressed against the door and head bowed, you finally let go until all the tears are gone and you’re gasping for breath, the quiet hiccups and sobs bursting forth and breaking the silence in the same way he broke your heart over and over again.

You love him.

There’s no one to blame, but yourself. In the end, it’s all your fault that you were in this mess. How can you be so stupid? You can put lipstick on a pig, but it would still be a pig. Built up insecurities will bubble up to the surface no matter how much mascara and blush you apply. The warning signs were all there in flashing technicolor, but they were all tied up with shiny ribbons and deceiving perfect smiles. They lit up your usual drab life of blacks, whites, and grays, and you were blinded by the glitz and glamor— blinded by him. It is hard to see the red flags and stop signs through the rose colored Instagram filters. You trusted him and gave him your heart when you should’ve known it’d end like this. 

You got greedy and tried to steal the spotlight, and you received it, front and center. You are the joke. You are the punchline, the comedic relief, the center stage of a slapstick comedy show. This is what you get for going off script.

Because you love him.

You were supposed to continue to delude yourself into thinking that you don’t want to find love, that you enjoy being on your own, that you enjoy being single, that you are perfectly content with never experiencing romance instead of facing the cold harsh reality head on: no one sees you as desirable or dateable. And when your friends tell you that you’re not missing out on anything with dating, you were supposed to nod and agree, when secretly, you desperately wish you can experience that for yourself instead of living vicariously through your friends’ love lives or the 3 a.m. scrollings through cheesy romance fanfiction on Tumblr. You’re been fine all these years, haven’t you? You were doing so well living on your own.

But you love him.

It’ll come when you least expect it, that’s what they tell you every time, but what are you to do when you can’t help but expect it your whole life? What are you to do when you so desperately want to know what it feels like to be loved in that way? God, when is it going to be your turn? When is it your turn to daydream about someone and know that they’re daydreaming about you too? When is it your turn to have someone walk you home? When is it your turn to hold hands with someone? When is it your turn to feel the giddy butterflies and experience a good night kiss? When is it your turn to be kissed in the rain? When is it your turn to experience the romance you can only dream about?

How much longer will you have to be patient? How much longer do you have to wait, living in denial over the soul crushing reality of it all? How many more stars do you need to wish upon until you learn to accept the painstaking truth? You weren’t meant to be loved in this lifetime.

God, you love him.

It’s embarrassing when it shouldn’t be. You just want to be touched by hands that care, loved by a heart that beats for you, desired by someone who thinks you are enough. It’s the way you would give up ten years of your life in a heartbeat to experience being the prettiest girl in the room just once and have people look at you. The overwhelming shame washes over you when you never had your first kiss until now with a boy who never cared about you, never went on a date before, never had a boyfriend before, and you have to lie and say it’s by choice when it’s not. It’s not. You have so much love to give, you have so much space in your life to share, you have so much time to spend with that special someone, but the grains of the hourglass are spent waiting and longing for a stranger who will never come. 

The thought of it all just makes you sick. It makes you sick that you wish so terribly that someone would just look in your direction for once. For once, you want to be looked at in that way like all the female protagonists experience in the movies. And you know your value shouldn’t be based on desire and objectification, you absolutely know it, but it still hurts when you go out with your friends and you’re the one dancing alone or sitting back and watching the purses. You’re the one standing there by yourself, while every single one of your pretty friends is being approached by someone. It still hurts so fucking bad when you try to put yourself out there, but guys have already moved past you or don’t even acknowledge your existence simply because of your face or a number on a scale. And when he came into your life and gave you one measly ounce of attention, you ran with it when you should have run away. It’s absolutely exhausting, leaving you out of breath and on the verge of throwing up, to chase after someone who never even looked at you, to chase after their attention, praying to god that they’ll one day make you feel like you are worth it, that you’ll finally feel some sort of value.

Forget ever being loved, you weren’t even wanted.

There is no such thing as happily ever after’s for the extras. Girls like you don’t get to star in love stories. Why did you ever think it would end differently?

You love him.

And he ruined you. Even worse, you let him.

You wish you never met Na Jaemin.

x. i can’t go out tonight. *fake coughs* i’m sick.

You would like to give a formal apology to Bella Swan for not understanding why she was so depressed over Edward leaving her for six months and making fun of her. In your defense, you were like nine years old when the movie came out, and you were more interested in Barbies back then (Plus, you were Team Jacob because you wanted a pet dog at the time).

You didn’t even go through a break up, but it sure as hell feels like one.

You probably would continue to wallow in your misery for weeks, clutching onto the only two men you could ever trust in your entire life: Ben and Jerry’s while watching every iconic 90s and early 2000s rom-coms on repeat if it weren’t for your best friends. But enough is enough, and you get that you shouldn’t be spending weeks crying over a boy who hasn’t even spent one second thinking about you. It’s just hard to take that first step back up again when you feel like you tripped and fell all the way down to rock bottom.

And so, you finally let your friends into your shared dorm room, and you definitely do not miss the poorly disguised look of disgust and shock when they see the giant mess on your side of the room (You’re very grateful that Giselle has been staying at her boyfriend’s place for weeks now). It’s an intervention at this point—one that you desperately need, and you know it.

“Okay, give it to me straight,” you sniffle, still wrapped up in your comforter like a giant burrito and clutching onto the ice cream carton like a lifeline. You know that your friends will just rip it off like a bandage, and you have mentally prepared yourself for it. Your voice comes out wobbly still from the tears, and you hate it. “I know I was stupid for letting a guy walk all over me like that. I know if any of you were in this situation, I’d tell you that you’re better than that and to get over him, but it’s just so hard to do it.”

“He who shall not be named is a scumbag, and I’m gonna kill him the next time I see him,” Lana states, pursing her lips together. “I hope he has a bad hair day every single day because I know he’d be screaming, crying, throwing up if he could never get a perfect selfie ever again.”

You choke back a sob, giving her a watery smile. “That would destroy him.”

“Good. Fuck him. Metaphorically, not literally. Why should you care if you are the girl of his dreams or not? Be the girl of your dreams. You’re gorgeous, smart, and funny and he’s just some guy who still doesn’t know how to use the correct ‘your’ in an Instagram caption.”

You can write down a thousand and one reasons why he was the most horrendous, most awful, most vile person to ever grace your life. But at the end of the day, why does it matter? What good would it do? You still love him, and that’s the worst pill to swallow.

“I just—I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“Y/N, if you believed that Jaemin wasn’t a shitbag for the past four weeks and all the time before that in his life, then you can believe in yourself right now for two minutes and listen to me,” Lana says firmly, clutching onto your shoulders and forcing you to look her in the eye as she continues on, “Remember the Barbie movie? He’s just Ken. Ken doesn’t have a good day unless Barbie looks at him.”

“Yeah, like channel your inner Gina Linetti. Listen to Chelsea Peretti. ‘Men used to hunt.’ What’s Jaemin doing? He’s pushing twenty and doing aegyo on camera,” Moon chimes in, and Lana nods furiously in agreement before elbowing Yangyang in his rib not-so-subtly. “Contribute to the conversation, Yang.”

“Hold on, I’m thinking,” Yangyang says, pausing in the middle of your room and placing his hands on his hips.

“Oh congrats, I didn’t know you could do that. But stop because you’re not good at it at all,” Moon says, completely ignoring the dirty look he throws at her immediately. The little exchange brings a small smile to your face and it feels nice to laugh. You’ve forgotten how to do that. You miss your friends. You’re grateful for them for not giving up on you when you already have.

“Come on, let’s go see ‘Crazy Rich Asians.’ It’ll be fun. We can watch Lana fangirl over seeing her favorite actor,” Moon encourages you, and Yangyang nods in agreement. “Yeah, she picked a better man after the Jaehyun fiasco.”

“Oh my god, let it go. I didn’t like him that much,” Lana huffs softly, grabbing one of your spare pillows and launching it square into his face in retaliation, and he lets out out a high pitched shriek that makes you giggle.

“Weren’t you gonna go see it with your best friend, Yang?” You ask, glancing over at him and he shakes his head, a slightly sour expression on his face. “Nah, she’s going with Dejun already.”

“So unfortunately, we’re stuck with him now,” Moon says solemnly as Yangyang immediately throws her a dirty look. The look on his face makes you laugh, and it makes you feel a little better and your heart a little lighter.

You shouldn’t have to beg someone to love you; the right person will never make you beg. The right person would never chip away at you, erasing different parts of you, until you fit their picture perfect mold, until there’s nothing left of you. You would never have to call your friends at 4 am, drunk and crying for their validation, praying to whatever higher being is up there for them to take you back. Your friends have never looked at the scars and freckles dotting your skin and suddenly deemed you as unlovable. Your best friend wouldn’t call you fat and point out every single one of your insecurities. You are not unlovable because you decided to eat a third taco or decided to not wear makeup today or didn’t shave your legs. You may fight with your parents and siblings, but never once have you felt unloved by them. Never once did you have to get on your knees and plead for them to love you back.

You know you are worthy of love because your friends and family make it look so easy. They have shown you what love is really like time and time again. You’ve been a shitty friend these past few months, prioritizing a boy over the ones who really matter. They’ve been so patient with you this entire time, and with an open heart, you realize that it is time you finally start properly loving them and yourself too.

You are loved.

xi. that’s so not fetch!

Jaemin slinks out of the lecture hall, noting the dirty looks your friends have sent him from the other side of the room. He’s been standing outside of the classroom before the session starts for the past few weeks in hopes of catching you, looking like a complete creep (and definitely feeling like one).  But what’s he to do when you wouldn’t return any of his texts or calls? It’s humiliating, and he feels smaller than an ant under a microscope.

He pretends to leave class early, staking out in the bathroom across from the classroom. Counting down the minutes, he sees the first wave of students pouring out from the classrooms and finally spots you. His heart jumps to his throat, and his hands begin to grow clammy.

You’re back to wearing your loose jeans and basic t-shirts, your favorite purple scrunchie wrapped around your wrist and an old Jansport backpack slung over your shoulder, decorated with pins of all those familiar characters from his favorite anime. Your face is bare, aside from tinted lip balm, and you’re smiling. You’re laughing at something your friend next to you says, and with a sinking heart, Jaemin realizes that perhaps maybe you are pretty in the slightest way.

He finds himself taking one step towards you, then another, maneuvering around the other students rushing to leave. He’s getting closer and closer, if he called out your name, you would hear him. But you wouldn’t stop for him this time. He knows that.

Jaemin is getting closer, just a few more steps until he can just stretch his hand out and tap your shoulder, and his heart is pounding so hard in his chest until a pretty manicured hand grabs his upper arm lightly.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?” 

He pauses, turning around and seeing Somi staring back at him in surprise as she continues, “I thought you don’t have any classes at this time.”

“Yeah, I—” he hesitates, glancing over at your retreating figure and Somi follows his gaze, her eyes softening as she lets go of his arm.

“Oh, were you waiting for her? Sorry about that,” she apologizes, pulling away and he shakes his head, shrinking back. Maybe it was for the better that you got away. It’s probably a sign from the universe telling him to let it go.

“No, it’s okay. She doesn’t want to talk to me anyway,” Jaemin admits at last, starting to slink off, and Somi furrows her eyebrows, a puzzled expression gracing her face as she hurries slightly to catch up with him, matching his pace. He exits the building, crushing the graded economics midterm with a red 89 circled at the top in his fist and shoving it haphazardly into the side pocket of his backpack usually reserved for his water bottle.

“What are you talking about? The two of you are practically glued at the hip. She adores you,” she laughs softly, tilting her head slightly as she glances over at him. He ignores her look, continuing on his way off of campus and towards his safe haven: a small dog friendly boba shop snug in between a bookstore and a 24 hour laundromat he frequents more often than he likes to admit.

 “I honestly thought you’d ask her out at some point.”

Jaemin winces at that, her light response rubbing salt into his open wounds, stitches torn and bleeding, and he spits out the next words defensively, his pride rearing its ugly head again. “No way. I never liked her like that. She’s not my type at all. Have you seen her?”

“What is wrong with you?” Somi frowns at him, stopping in her tracks, and he halts, unable to look at her and throwing out a dismissive “What?” In her direction.

“Why are you talking about her like that? I thought you liked her,” she answers, staring at him in disbelief, and he curls his fingers into fists, gripping tightly as a multitude of conflicting emotions war inside of him. He starts to walk again, barely glancing over at Somi.

“She was just my tutor. I passed my midterm, so I don’t need to be around her anymore.” He responds weakly, uncurling and recurling his fingers into fists as he desperately tries to stay calm.

It was so much easier to pretend around his other friends. Aside from Jeno, they always took his words at face value, never one to pry. And Jeno would never push him, knowing that he would eventually come to him at his own pace. But Somi? He’s forgotten about how she can be after she’s been so busy with her schedule, missing out from the majority of hang outs for her social work and events, and their class schedules never overlapped. She can spot a lie a mile away. She actually cares. In a way, she reminds him of you, and he can’t bear to meet her gaze anymore.

“She’s your friend,” Somi retorts, following him into the boba shop, briefly stopping to pet the adorable Samoyed wagging its tail near the entrance. “You spent more time with her than any of us, except maybe Jeno. And you weren’t just studying in the library. I’ve seen her on your finsta and close friend stories.”

“Okay, and now she’s not. She’s not my friend anymore,” Jaemin answers sharply, punching his order into the self service machine. “It happens. People stop being friends. So back off, Somi.”

“Jeez, what is your problem?” she snaps back, following him towards the back, settling on a pillow in one of the comfortable nooks converted into a small seating area across from him. “I caught you following Y/N, and now you say you’re not friends?”

Jaemin hesitates, fiddling with one of the decorative pillows in his lap. “We got into an argument.”

“Yeah, but friends fight. You can apologize, right?”

Jaemin is silent.

Somi stares at him, and he wants to curl into himself. It’s the very same look you gave him before you shut the door in his face, and he feels the bile in his throat already. Her voice is quiet. “Jaemin, what did you do?”

“I—,” he whispers, breaking off and clenching his fists. He is already replaying that moment in his head, seeing the look of utter devastation on your face, and he wants to run away. The ugly truth is front and center, and he is unable to ignore it any longer.

 “I fucked up, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Jaemin bursts out, burying his face in his hands and unable to face his friend. He closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “I said some shitty things to her, some really fucked up stuff.”

“Like fucked up as in messy drunk thoughts or fucked up, fucked up?” Somi says softly, hesitantly, as if she doesn’t want to believe her friend is the worst of the worst. Jaemin’s heart sinks even lower than rock bottom as he continues to hang his head low.

“I…” Jaemin’s voice is less than a whisper as he finally confesses the horrible truth to someone for the first time. His voice cracks as he recalls every single disgusting thing and insecurity he flung back into your face.

“I said that it would be stupid for her to believe in love at first sight, that she wasn’t up to my standards, that it’s her fault, that I was ashamed of her, ashamed that I even liked her because of the way she looked.”

The silence is deafening, and Jaemin feels the same wave of humiliation wash over him as it did on that very night. Somi is speechless, and he can’t bear to look at her, one hundred percent knowing that there would be a raw look of utter disgust and horror on her face because that is the exact way he would look at himself. He sits there in silence as the guilt and shame pile up even higher; he is past the point of wallowing in self pity, already drowning and gasping for breath.

“Jaemin… she was your friend,” she murmurs, gazing at him, mouth agape as the shock finally settles in, and he flinches slightly at the past tense. “She actually cared about you. She made you happy.”

“I know,” he says softly.

“She was the best thing that ever happened to you.” Somi continues quietly.

Jaemin sucks in a sharp breath, biting his bottom lip. “I know.”

“Then why?”

Because I was stupid, he thinks silently, Because I am a coward. Because she embarrassed me. She made me feel small. She made me feel insignificant. She made me look at myself in the mirror, and for the first time in my life, I absolutely hated what I saw staring back at me.

“I don’t know,” Jaemin whispers, staring down at his lap in resignation and unable to swallow the truth.

He knows.

xii. you can’t sit with us.

You continue to avoid Jaemin in Macroeconomics, choosing to slip into class at the very last minute. You see him waiting in front of the classroom every session for the past three weeks, searching for you, but you opt to go to the professor’s office hours every time before class and end up walking with her to class as she answers your questions about the assigned readings and problems. Alice saves you a seat in the front row, and you never told her but you’re grateful when you realize she must have asked her other friends to sit around the two of you, effectively barricading Jaemin from any attempt at sitting next to you. Finals week comes and goes with  the winter break following suit, and you think he has finally given up on any attempt at reaching you.

But life has an unfortunate penchant for bringing up things—or people—you wish to forget when you least expect it. It was supposed to be an ordinary Thursday four weeks into the spring semester, and you’re exiting your last class of the day, tucking your laptop into the cute tote bag you bought from the New York Strands bookstore as you walk across campus.

“Y/N.” Jaemin appears in front of you, and suddenly, all the air in your lungs seem to have been sucked out. It’s almost embarrassing how two months of self progress can be toppled over as easily as a house of cards. Your brain says to hate him, but one glance at him still has you weak in the knees. You take a deep breath, counting to three before walking around and ignoring him entirely.

“Please, can we just talk for five minutes? I’m sorry.” He desperately reaches out for you, and you can see some people starting to take note of the two of you, their gazes on your back.

“Leave me alone, Jaemin.” You continue to walk away, hiking up the strap of your bag higher over your shoulder, desperately trying to quell the stupid colony of butterflies in your stomach that have laid dormant for so long. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Please, just five minutes—three minutes—and I’ll leave you alone forever. Listen to me,” he says in a quiet tone. It was an order, a request, and a plea all at once.

You pause, scrutinizing him for a few moments before grabbing his arm and dragging him away from prying eyes. You stop on the secluded side of the building underneath the magnolia trees before dropping his hand. “You have two minutes. Talk.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Good to know you’re self aware. You’re finally experiencing some character growth.”

Jaemin grimaces at your stony expression. “Okay, that was deserved. I truly am sorry, Y/N. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have lashed out at you, and I’m an asshole who took advantage of you. You do deserve better. You deserve someone better than me. But I want to be that person. You make me a better person.”

You stay quiet, and Jaemin fidgets around. “Is that… is that okay? I know it’s selfish of me, but—”

“You’re right, that is selfish of you.”

Jaemin falls silent at that, face flushing before he speaks up meekly, “Can’t we start over? Try again?”

In that moment, you truly pity the boy in front of you. The lost expression on his face tells it all as he desperately clutches onto whatever lifeline you’re willing to toss out. But he’s causing you to drown, and you need to cut the cord and put yourself first for once. Maybe you can change him. But you can’t do this to yourself again.

You take a deep breath and pinch yourself, reminding yourself that this is the same boy who broke your heart because it wasn’t pretty enough for him. “There is no trying again. You never tried, and I’m done trying for you. Jaemin, you don’t love me. You’ve never felt that way towards me.”

“Yes, I have! I do! I really do,” he protests, and you shake your head, taking a step back. He starts to take one step forward towards you and hesitates, staying in his original spot. Your gaze is cold, and he finds himself wishing that you would look at him in the way you used to.

“You love the idea of me: the one you built up in your head,” you say, tone growing quiet. “But I’m nothing like her. To some degree, I think I might be the first genuine connection you ever made with a girl. You liked the way I felt about you and how I acted for you. I changed everything about myself for you, I would’ve followed you anywhere, I would’ve done anything for you, and you took advantage of that. You took advantage of the fact that I love you.”

You may not truly know what love is, but you know it’s something he never gave you. It stings, knowing that even after all of this, you still secretly, desperately long for the type of love you know will always be out of your reach. A part of you wants to believe him, but this time, you listen to your mind instead of your heart.

Jaemin’s head shoots up at your confession, eyes widening in belated realization, and you curl your lips inward, biting your lower lip. You love him. You love him, he now knows, and to your surprise, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Three steps forward and two steps back is still one step in the right direction.

“One day, you’re gonna find someone who’s finally enough for you—someone who’s worth making pancakes for,” you say wistfully, pausing for a minute before gathering the courage to continue.

“And you’re gonna fall in love with them. Like really love them. You’re gonna love them so much that you’ll try your hardest to be enough for them. You’re gonna try so fucking hard to be the one they want, the one they love, that you’ll do anything for them. You’ll even change yourself for better—or for worse.” You grip the strap of your tote bag even tighter, a dull pang in your heart making its appearance, and Jaemin winces, lowering his eyes as the regret and guilt pools into his stomach.

“But sometimes, it won’t be enough. It’s not going to be enough,” you continue, swallowing hard. “And it’ll never be enough for them. You’re willing to move heaven and earth for them, but they won’t notice. Or maybe they don’t even care. No matter how hard you try to love them, it won’t matter unless they want you. Unless they choose you.  And it’ll hurt like hell. It’ll hurt every single time you see them, every time you hear them, every time you think of them.”

Your voice softens, shaking slightly as you take in a wavering breath before pushing forward. “And when it hurts, you’re going to think of me. You’re going to remember me because that’s when you’ll understand what it feels like. That’s when you’ll know how I felt. How it feels to not be enough. How it feels to have your heart ripped to shreds by someone you care about—someone you love.”

His heart drops, and you give him a wistful smile before it quickly disappears, and your expression schools into one of indifference. You continue to walk forward confidently, brushing past his frozen figure. You see your friends waiting for you on the other side of the lawn, and you look over your shoulder at Jaemin one last time, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself.

“And you know what? I hope to fucking god it hurts you as much as you hurt me.”

The world continues to spin, you keep moving forward, and he remains rooted in his spot, unable to look away from you. There are so many Barbies and Kens out there, so many more Na Jaemins who will come into your life and sweep you off your feet, and you’ll make them feel special and more than a pretty face, he belatedly realizes, he’s disposable and so easily replaceable, but there’s only ever going to be one you. 

As he watches you walk away, Jaemin thinks he is starting to understand.

EPILOGUE.

Life likes to play cruel jokes, and the senior year gives you the most hilarious one of all in the form of your final capstone project. Last you heard about Jaemin, he had switched his major to pre med (which was ironic to you since that field would require him to care about other people, which he clearly proved to be incapable of). However, your university decided to implement a cross collaboration between the various schools, and it’s just your luck that you find yourself paired up with Jaemin. Giving him a tight smile as you take a seat across from him in the library room he reserved, you take out your laptop.

Jaemin had asked earlier if you wanted to request a new assigned partner, but you highly doubt any professor would switch up a pairing on account of one person being guilty of being the greatest asshole to ever exist (Plus, you’ll come across many guys like him in your field of work, so you might as well start building up your tolerance now).

It is the final time you will meet up with him before the big presentation, and the two of you work together in silence, only breaking it to discuss the project topic. It is neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, settled somewhere in between—kind of like a purgatory for relationships. You’ve stopped thinking about him a while ago already, but seeing someone who once was a part of your life always brings back memories, whether wanted or not.

“I met someone.”

Jaemin breaks the ice, unable to hold it back any longer. He feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn't get this off of his chest. There is a slight pause in your writing before you resume, but he knows you are listening.

“I met her after… after our…” He trails off. He doesn’t know what to call it—what the two of you had. An almost relationship. “… After us.”

You continue to write, taking note of several points to be discussed based on your slide. He puts down his pen, clasping his hands together as he fiddles with one of the rings wrapped around his fingers.

“I made her blueberry pancakes.”

You sharply inhale for a brief millisecond before you jot down another bullet point. One, two, three, four, five bullet points until you can breathe normally again. You’re twenty two years old, but you suddenly feel like you’re eighteen again. You sometimes loathed your younger self, but because of her, you learned so many things (Forgiveness is one of them).

“I don’t know what else to do, except keep making her pancakes.” Jaemin sits there idly for a few moments, entirely unaware of your inner turmoil, before he laughs derisively, “She’s in love with my best friend. She never told me, but I can just tell.”

There’s another pause from him. Staring down at his notebook, he swallows hard, the lump in his throat never fully going away. His voice cracks as he whispers out his question:

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

Your pen stops moving across the paper, dropping to the side. There’s a black scribble from where it fell. You still continue to look at the index card, focusing on the college ruled lines until they become a mosaic blur of blue, black, and white.

“Eventually.”

Your tone is impassive, and his head snaps up at your reply. You pick up the pen again. You don’t look at him, but you know he’s staring at you, an unrecognizable expression in his eyes.

Perhaps, it would have been different if you had met the present day him back then instead. Perhaps, it would’ve worked out. Maybe he would have made another girl fall in love with him, broke her heart, and come out unscathed. Or maybe he would still be the same as his past self if he hadn’t met you. It’s the butterfly effect; you don’t know what would have happened, but you don’t care. Not anymore.

By now, you have mourned him for longer than you have loved him.

“Y/N, you were never hard to love. I was bad at loving. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

And this time, you know he truly means it—that Jaemin truly understands. It is good that he has learned and tried to become a better person. You just wish it didn’t have to come at the expense of you.

Your first love teaches you what love isn’t.

The threads holding the pieces of your heart together these past three years have always been so fragile. Just one tug at the heart strings, and everything unravels so easily, like grains of sand slipping through your fingers. You’ve nearly forgotten what heartbreak feels like, the old wounds opening up for a long forgotten friend that you had prayed you would never meet again.

You discover that it hurts even more the second time around.

“I wish I fell in love with you back then.”

His tone is forlorn, a silent resolution wrapped in happenstance. You continue to write down more notes for your part of the presentation, the soft scritches of your pen against paper almost masking your quiet response, and Jaemin nearly misses it.

“So did I.”

[choerrypuffs]

AITA for setting my cheating ex's car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

pairing: firefighter!haechan x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 8.6k

synopsis: revenge is best served cold―or on fire. literally.

author’s note: luvpuffcore is finally back!! ilysm cat and moon and thank you for another amazing year of friendship <333 i truly am the #1 most successful fan of all time 🤩 also special shoutout to cat for letting me use some of her creepy dms and moon for sharing her league knowledge yall are god's strongest soldiers fr !! happy new year, my loves ✨🎆💞

warning(s): mentions/threats of violence, sexual jokes, y/n commits arson but in a girly pop way (pls don't try this at home), character assassination of mark

playlist: get him back! by olivia rodrigo ― is it new years yet? sabrina carpenter ― drinks or coffee by rosé ― risk by gracie abrams ― mastermind by taylor swift

additional: check out a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab!

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 3d

AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

I (24F) caught my boyfriend cheating on me with a discord kitten he met on League of Legends two days before our anniversary. I proceeded to have the biggest crash out ever known to man, bought a gallon of gasoline, went to his house in the middle of the night, and lit his car on fire. I had completely forgotten his cousin was a firefighter in the area, and he showed up at the scene, which hindered my masterful plan a little bit. Luckily, my ex didn’t press any charges though because no way in hell he’s going to admit he has a discord kitten in a court of law. Anyways, the next day, my ex groveled and begged me to go to his family’s Christmas party with him so that he could save face in front of his mommy. Long story short―let’s just say it didn’t go well. His cousin ended up driving me home, and I think maybe I’ve fallen for him? 

⥣ 9.8k ⥥ 1,439 Comments

mcballs-im-lovin-it0323 • 2d YTA for not crashing out even harder bc i woulda slept with his entire bloodline if he played in my face like that 🙂‍↕️

➥ Reply ⥣ 2.8k ⥥

picklepounder1010 • 1d would’ve had him calling me mama, papa, auntie, uncle, grandma, grandpa etc fr 😩 ➥ ⥣ 943 ⥥

god-of-donuts0423 • 1d YTA for dating a lol player

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

goonknight1027 • 5h no way this post is about that twink lol streamer ➥ ⥣ 629 ⥥

part one | oh, i wanna key his car…or light it ablaze?

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:03 PM heyyy u play lol too 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:05 PM im a yasuo main 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhat kinda asian are u

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhatchu look like

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMsorry was that too much 😂😂😂

Your best friend, Rosie, has to put your phone down and take a few deep breaths. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Keep going. You haven’t even seen the worst of it,” you respond through a mouthful of strawberry ice cream, completely deadpan. 

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:21 AM ahh 😂😂

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:22 PM *kisses you*

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PM can i tell U something weird :3 😂

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:40 PM[Audio Message]

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMi wrote this rap about my feelings for y baby girl

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMbecause uve been such a good gril for me

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:57 PM holy fck holy dcking fck that body of urs is absurd

Rosie covers her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes in a grimace. “No way he copied Adam Levine unironically.” 

“Keep going.”

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AMwhen can i see u

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM ill be free after christmas

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM after annyign fam stuff 😂😂😂

Every message Rosie reads feels like another sucker punch in your gut and your ego, but you just dig your spoon into the tub of ice cream with even more force and let her keep going. Every time you blink, you feel dried up mascara flaking off your eyelashes and getting stuck in the dried tears and snot on your cheeks. 

“‘Annoying fam stuff?’ Is he talking about your anniversary?” Rosie demands.

Yes, your anniversary with your now ex-boyfriend, Mark Lee, is on Christmas. You used to think it was romantic. What a goddamn idiot you were. 

“At least he called me family,” you reply wryly, a hysterical laugh rattling in your chest like a wet cough. 

Rosie shakes her head and hands your phone back to you. “I can’t read any more of this. I’m going to be sick. I thought Discord mods and Discord kittens were just memes. I can’t believe people like him actually exist.” 

You just shrug.

“Where the hell is he now?” She crosses her arms. 

“Probably at his parents’ house. They’re on a ski trip, and they won’t be back until tomorrow,” you sigh, getting a headache thinking about how you were going to explain this to Mark’s parents. 

“Good. Change the locks on your door before he tries to come crawling back. He’s done mooching off you,” Rosie huffs. 

“You were right,” you state matter-of-factly, “That he was just a jobless bum loser who’s a momma’s boy.” 

She looks guilty, leaning over and giving you a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” 

You think about the time you first met Mark, when the two of you were just starry-eyed freshmen in college together. He was so awkward and shy that it took almost an entire semester for him to finally look you in the eye. He followed you around like a sad puppy and would get flustered at any prolonged amount of attention you gave him. After about three years of him being hopelessly in love with you and unable to work up the courage to ask you out, you finally decided to give him a chance in your final year of college. It was a white Christmas, and you remember his trembling hands holding your face, freezing cold fingertips brushing your cheeks, and how red his nose was when he leaned in to kiss you. He looked at you as if you were a goddess that was put on this Earth purely for him to worship. 

Maybe that’s why you moved in together with him when the two of you graduated, even when he was unemployed and you supported him financially. Maybe that’s why you smiled and nodded when he told you he wanted to try being a Twitch streamer. Maybe that’s why you gifted him his first microphone for his setup, or baked him a cake when he finally got his first viewer (even though it was actually a secret account that you made in order to boost his confidence). Maybe that’s why you never complained when he started skipping out on dates (sometimes even your birthday) in favor of growing his audience, or when he bought you extravagant gifts like jewelry or designer clothes without any clue of your preference or size. Maybe that’s why you chose to ignore the churning feeling in the pit of your stomach when you noticed his eyes starting to drift towards anything but you.

Maybe you were always the one who worshipped him. 

It’s almost comical how easily almost a decade of your life has gone down the drain―and all it took was a couple of laughing emojis. In the end, the one who loves more is always the one who loses the most. 

You gave up your best years to Mark Lee, and yet you seemed to have run out of tears to cry for this man. 

Instead, all you have left now is pure, unbridled rage boiling inside of you. It’s the kind of anger that needs to simmer first―the kind that manifests first as a calm indifference before it finally bubbles over into a complete meltdown. But you’ll be damned before you set fire to your mental health and personal belongings that you worked tooth and nail for over a man who ruined your life. 

So, you’ve decided to set fire to something else. 

“Rosie,” you say softly, your voice chillingly serene. “I’m going to set his car on fire.” 

Rosie laughs. “Want me to be your getaway driver?” 

“No, I wouldn’t want to implicate you,” you respond smoothly. “Besides, I want him to know that I’m the one who did it.” 

She looks at you for a moment, trying to decide if you’re joking or not. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yes. I don’t have the energy to care about him anymore,” you answer―only a half lie. “You should go now. I know you have a late shift tonight.” 

Rosie gives you another tight squeeze. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’m off this weekend, so we should go get drunk off our asses.” 

After she leaves, you slowly get up and make your way to the bathroom. You wash your face in the sink, scrubbing on the gunk off, and apply a fresh layer of makeup. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to make sure you look hot as hell (pun intended). Once you’re done, you make your way to the nearest gas station and purchase a gallon of gasoline before promptly driving to Mark’s parent’s house. 

By the time you get there, it’s already close to midnight, and not even the darkness can shroud Mark’s new Tesla Cybertruck. You remember when he bought it because you had to pay for half of his rent for the month because he was saving up for it―the smug grin on his face, as he announced it to his Twitch chat. You’re embarrassed at how happy you were for him, and you didn’t even have the heart to tell him how hideous you found it. The truck’s mirrored exterior reflects the moon in the starless night sky, and the full moon almost looks like a shiny, pretty bullseye calling out for you to destroy it. 

Without hesitation, you get out of your car and immediately start dumping gasoline all over and around the car. The scent of gasoline normally makes you nauseous, but the scent of revenge smells even sweeter. Before you take out your lighter, you pick up a large piece of broken concrete from his driveway. With all of the strength you can muster, you hurl the concrete into the driver side window of the truck and watch your reflection shatter along with the glass. 

The car alarm starts blaring, and you wait for the light in Mark’s room to blink on. You see his silhouette as he opens his blinds and peers out, just to lock eyes with you. He gawks at you like he’s just seen a ghost, and it doesn’t take long for him to make his way down to you. As he stumbles down the driveway, you take out your lighter and flick it on, letting it slowly slip from your fingertips. Your heart swells with a hysterical sense of glee as his eyes widen, the orange flames reflecting in his teary eyes. His Cybertruck is set ablaze with a Hollywood-esque level of perfection, and the fire gives your face a golden glow as if you were the starring actress. 

“Y/N! Are you fucking crazy?” Mark hollers over the crackle of the flames, voice breaking. 

“Oh, you bet I fucking am,” you laugh. 

“I’m gonna sue you―you bitch! Have you thrown in jail!” he screams, fishing his phone out of his pocket and punching in 911 on the keypad. “I’m calling the cops right now!” 

“Do it, you spineless piece of shit! I’m going to make sure everyone in this damn neighborhood and on the internet knows what a lying, cheating, soul-sucking little leech you are!” you yell back at him. “I’m going to ruin your fucking career first and then happily walk my ass down to the police station.”

That makes Mark stop in his tracks, his thumb hovering over the dial button. He can’t control the fear on his face. “No one is gonna believe you.” 

“Aw, you sure no one will believe me when I show everyone the screenshots of your DMs with uwukittenbb69?” you taunt. 

“I’ll say they’re fake!” he nearly screeches. 

“Let’s fucking go then! My word against yours. We’ll see who they believe,” you challenge. 

Mark falters and takes a small step forward. “W-Wait…” 

Unfortunately for him, he’s interrupted by the squealing sirens of a firetruck pulling up to the street. You and Mark exchange glances, and you silently dare him to report you, before both of you turn towards the firefighters exiting the truck. 

“Mark…and Y/N?” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of the approaching firefighter’s voice. You watch in horror as the firefighter removes his helmet, and you get a clearer look at his face. Tufts of wavy caramel-colored hair sticking out, a youthful and angelic face that doesn’t suit his occupation, and heart-shaped lips turned downwards in concern―it’s Mark’s cousin, Donghyuck. You’ve met him a decent amount of times at family gatherings, and he sometimes drops by you and Mark’s apartment to deliver homemade food from his mom. Donghyuck has always been kind to you, and you didn’t want him to see you like this.

Donghyuck’s confusion is short-lived before his attention falls back to the fire and how close you are to it. He quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the burning truck. 

“Be careful. Are you hurt?” he asks carefully, eyes scanning your face with precision. “And why aren’t you wearing a jacket? It’s freezing out here.” 

You open your mouth to try and fumble out an answer, but you flinch at the sound of Donghyuck’s colleagues blasting Mark’s car with water from the firetruck’s power hose. All that’s left of the Cybertruck is a deformed and blackened pile of scrap metal with a plume of smoke rising from it. You can’t help the sense of satisfaction you feel. 

“Don’t breathe in the smoke. It’s not good for you,” Donghyuck urges, gently sticking an arm in front of you and gesturing for you to step back even further. “Come with me. There’s blankets in the back of the truck.”

“I’m fine,” you finally manage to say, shaking your head. “I’m not cold.” 

It’s true; the fire you set has been more than enough to make your insides feel all warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t look like he believes you but doesn’t try to push any further. 

“Okay, so what the hell happened here? We got a call from the neighbors saying there was a blazing ball on fire in Mark’s driveway and that the two of you were in a screaming match.” 

“Ask Mark,” is all you say. 

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. 

“It was an accident.”

As if on cue, Mark suddenly materializes next to you and Donghyuck―a restless expression on his face. He probably thought you were telling Donghyuck what he did to you and rushed over. 

“What?” Donghyuck’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “You’re saying that was an accident?”

“Yeah. I was just…messing around. Don’t worry about it. It was an accident,” Mark says through gritted teeth, sounding completely defeated. 

The corners of your mouth twitch when you chime in, “A senseless accident.” 

Donghyuck is completely speechless as he glances between the two of you. However, you look past him and watch the fireworks exploding in the dark sky. Pulling out your phone, you see that it’s midnight, meaning it’s officially the 25th of December. Glancing over at Mark, you see him trembling in the cold with a sniffly red nose and bloodshot eyes. He’s staring straight at the ground, fists clenched. 

You smile. 

part two | wanna push him in the fireplace and watch him burn!

When you finally get home that night, you draw yourself a steaming hot bubble bath and even use the fancy bath bomb that Rosie bought you. After you get dressed, you make a charcuterie board and pour yourself a glass of wine as well before falling asleep to a Hallmark movie playing on your television. It’s probably the best sleep you’ve gotten over the past month. 

You wake up in the morning feeling refreshed, a certain five-foot-nine burden lifted from your shoulders, and text all of your friends and family your holiday greetings. Rosie invited you out to her family gathering because she didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas, but you declined. You decided to stay home and get some cleaning done. Of course, by cleaning, you mean boxing up all of Mark’s stuff and donating it to Goodwill. You initially wanted to burn everything, but you’ve committed enough arson already. 

Just as you’re getting ready to make a hearty breakfast in preparation for the mass Mark exodus, you hear the door to your apartment being opened, and your blood runs cold when you realize you haven’t changed the lock. Then your cold blood begins to boil at the audacity that Mark still must have in his pathetic little body to even dream of stepping foot in your home. 

Gripping your frying pan tightly, you march out of the kitchen to greet him. Mark at least has the sense to shrivel back when he sees you approach him. To your delight, he looks absolutely terrible. It’s obvious he didn’t get any sleep nor did he feel the need to change out of his pajamas. 

“I know you’re mad,” he says quickly, holding his hands out as if ready to block a punch.

“If you actually knew that, you wouldn’t have stepped foot in my apartment,” you say nonchalantly. “You have ten seconds to give my key back to me and get the hell out before you have to call the cops again.”

“Chill, chill,” he mutters, “I’m just here for my stuff―”

“Don’t tell me to chill. I’ve always hated it when you tell me that. It makes you sound like a patronizing douchebag, which you are, of course,” you snap. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you just waltz in here and casually get your stuff. Most of which I paid for, by the way.”

“Y/N, come on,” he sighs. “at least let me get my PC setup.”

That makes you burst out laughing. “Holy shit. You really have the gall to ask me for your PC setup? Are you on actual crack? Get the fuck out!”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry, okay? Just one more thing―”

“Don’t make me swear to Jesus on his birthday―” 

“My mom wants you to come to the Christmas party this afternoon,” he blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut. “I…haven’t told her yet. I wanted us to tell her, um, together, after the party.”

He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand what he’s implying. He wants to make it seem like the breakup was mutual to save his reputation and because he knows his mom will lose her mind. He’s pretended to be her perfect little boy his entire life, a momma’s boy to the very core, so he can’t ever let her know what a bottomfeeder he is. 

“Is this some sort of social experiment to see how far you can push my limits before I finally snap? Again?” you ask incredulously. 

“Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything. I won’t ask for my stuff anymore. I won’t tell anyone about the car thing. I promise you that you won’t ever see me again if you do me this favor,” Mark sputters.

You hate that you still hesitate, despite how much you’re disgusted by him. It makes you feel like you haven’t completely axed the part of you that was in love with him, and that sickens you. However, Mrs. Lee has always been like a second mother to you, and it doesn’t feel right to just cut her off without a proper goodbye just because her son is a cretin. You suppose this could be good closure for such an ill-fated relationship. 

“You swear on your life that you’ll leave me alone forever after this?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Mark nods profusely.

“Fine. I’m only staying for an hour, and I don’t care if the party isn’t over yet. We’re going to tell her within that period or else,” you state. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Y/N.” Mark opens his arms to hug you, and it takes every fiber in your being not to whack him across the head with your frying pan. 

“Do not touch me,” you warn, “Now get out.” 

To his credit, he promptly hightails it out of your apartment (perhaps he finally noticed the murderous glint in your eye). You almost immediately regret agreeing, but you tell yourself that today is the last day that you’ll ever have to deal with the likes of Mark Lee again. Putting a hold on cleaning, you get ready for the party instead, donning a cute holiday fit that you had prepared especially for today since it was supposed to be your anniversary. Now, it makes for a great revenge dress. 

Mark had texted you to let you know to bring a gift since there would be a white elephant gift exchange, and half of you wants to call him and scream at him for not letting you know sooner and the other half is screaming at yourself for forgetting to block him. Not having enough time to go out and buy a gift, you decide to wrap up the scarf that you knitted for Mark. You stayed up all night after you got off work to make it for him, and it looks a bit wonky, but you thought he would appreciate it. You feel bad for whoever receives it, but there has to be a few duds in the mix or it’s not a true white elephant experience. Maybe they can use the scarf to wipe up their dog’s piss or something.

When you drive back to Mark’s parents’ house, it’s an ironic clash of atmospheres. The place is decked out with Christmas decorations, an amalgamation of rainbow lights, inflatable snowmen, and wreaths on every door and window. Yet, you can also see remnants of the dark burn marks in their driveway. Mark must have managed to call a tow to take his Cybertruck away just in the nick of time. You do wonder how he managed to explain the burn marks, though. 

Taking in a deep breath, you hype yourself up in your car visor mirror before stepping out and walking to the front door. Before you can even knock, Mrs. Lee opens the door and envelops you in a bear hug. She smells like sugar cookies, and it occurs to you how much you’ll miss her. 

“Oh, sweetie! I’m so glad you’re here,” she coos, cupping your face. She then ushers you into the living room, linking her arm through yours. “I was so worried because I thought the two of you got into a fight while we were on our trip.”

You just smile uncomfortably. “O-Oh.” 

“A mother’s intuition is always right, you know,” she says, winking, “Plus, I knew something was off when Mark told us he’d be staying at our place for a couple nights. Poor boy was a mess, you know. He somehow managed to total his car in the driveway! Can you believe it? He really needs you around to whip him into shape!” 

You hope she can’t see you holding in a laugh. As you’re walking, you scan the room for Mark, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It doesn’t surprise you one bit that you’re being treated as fodder so he can hide in his room. 

“Anyways, say hi to everyone!” She leads you directly into a circle of Mark’s aunt and uncles. You give them all an awkward hello and try to slink away while they all converse, but one of Mark’s aunts turns towards you. 

“So, how long have you and Mark been together, honey?” she asks. 

“Um, about four years―”

“Oh, but they’ve known each other for much longer than that. Seven years! Mark had the biggest crush on her, you know,” Mrs. Lee interjects. 

“My goodness, does that mean we’ll be hearing wedding bells soon?” Mark’s aunt teases. The rest of the circle oohs and ahhs, and you want to strangle yourself with a garland. 

“I mean, what is he waiting for anyway? He’s making loads of money on the Internet now, isn’t he?” she continues. 

“Exactly. I want grandchildren, you know,” Mrs. Lee huffs. 

Unable to bite back your words anymore, you clear your throat loudly. “I have something I need to―” 

“Oh, Y/N! I’ve been looking for you,” another voice chimes in. 

All of you turn around, and a gasp nearly escapes you when you see Donghyuck standing in front of you. He’s in a white cable knit sweater, and his wavy hair looks so fluffy that you almost want to reach out and touch it. His cheeks are a bit flushed, probably because he’s in such thick clothing (or Mrs. Lee’s famous spiked eggnog). Without his uniform on, he looks much softer, dreamier. 

“You…have?” you ask, bewildered. 

“Yup! Come on, I gotta ask you something,” he answers cheerfully, gesturing for you to follow him. 

You’re a bit wary of what he’s scheming, but you’d rather risk it than have to deal with any more marriage talk, so you gladly let him whisk you away from the crowd. Donghyuck leads you to a less crowded part of the room, swiping a piece of chocolate cake when he walks past the dessert table, and tucks himself into a corner that’s concealed by a giant Christmas tree. 

“Here we go. I introduce to you my super covert corner that I stand in when I want to avoid nosy relatives,” he says in a sing-song voice before offering you the cake in his hand. “Would you like some German chocolate cake made by yours truly? It’s pretty damn average, if I do say so myself.” 

You pause, only just now realizing that Donghyuck helped you out. You suppose you have nothing to lose, so you accept the cake. “Oh. Thank you. So, you didn’t have anything you wanted to ask me?” 

“Well, actually, I do,” he hums, giving you a sheepish grin. “You set Mark’s car on fire last night, didn’t you?”

Part of you already expected this question coming, so you manage to keep your expression neutral. “Are you accusing me?” 

“Why, I wouldn’t dare. Besides, I don’t need to. I know you did,” he says casually, shrugging.

Even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. In fact, Donghyuck almost seems to find it amusing. 

“Do you have proof?”

“Mark told me,” he states sweetly.

You sigh loudly, immediately giving up the ruse. “I knew that damn lowlife would yap.” 

“So, what did he do?” 

“Of course, he told you what I did but didn’t tell you what he did,” you snort. 

“What, he cheat or something?” 

“Worse.” 

You pull out your phone and show Donghyuck Mark’s Discord DMs and watch his expression morph into disgust as you indulge in the cake he gave you. The dessert is perfectly average as he said, but there’s something charming about it. In that way, the cake is quite similar to its maker. 

“As a government employee and resident fighter of fires, nothing justifies arson,” he states after a brief moment to collect his thoughts, “but this comes pretty damn close.” 

You give him a smug I-told-you-so look.

“But seriously, what you did was really dangerous, Y/N. You could have injured yourself badly. That jackass is not worth getting third-degree burns over. There are better ways to get revenge, you know,” he lectures.

“Like what?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, like TP or egg his car or something. Slash his tires?” 

“God, are you from a 90s movie or something? That’s lame as hell,” you snort, taking another bite of cake.

“Dig your key into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive? Carve your name into his leather seats? Take a Louisville slugger to both headlights? Slash a hole in all four tires?” He wriggles his eyebrows. 

“Are you quoting Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood?” you ask incredulously.

“Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats…” Donghyuck sings, purposefully off-key. 

You can’t fight that smile that spreads across your face, and it eventually turns into a full-on belly laugh when he continues to sing. It’s the first genuine laugh, the first moment of brief happiness and relief, that you’ve felt in a long time. You thought you had it when you set Mark’s car on fire, but something still coiled in the pit of your stomach like simmering, black smoke. In this tiny little corner that smells of pine needles and chocolate cake, you feel free like a clear sky after a long winter storm.

“For the record,” Donghyuck says, voice gently dipping, “you’ve always been too good for him, and everyone knows it―including him. He’ll regret what he did to you for the rest of his life. That’s your revenge.” 

Your breath staccatos in your chest at his words. You tell yourself that he has always been a smooth talker, but he looks at you with such honesty and warmth that you want to believe him. 

“Have you always been this sweet?” You meant for the words to come out in a teasing manner, but your voice is tinged with breathlessness. 

Donghyuck grins, and his lips remind you of the heart-shaped lollipops that you see in the store during Valentine’s Day. “The sweetest.” 

A part of you wonders what would happen if you craned your neck and kissed him right here and now. Not because you’re romantically interested in him, of course. Rather, it would be a spectacular way to get revenge on Mark. Most girls go for the brother or the best friend―maybe even the dad if one is particularly ambitious―but the cousin is an untapped (pun NOT intended) medium for revenge. 

You wonder if Donghyuck tastes like cookies or wine-filled chocolates or spiked eggnog or even fruitcake. You really hate fruitcake, but you suppose you wouldn’t mind for the sake of revenge. 

But you would never do that to him. He’s much too kind of a person to be involved in you and Mark’s mess. The fact that you’re able to confide in him and he actually takes your side is something that you truly appreciate. As much as you want to torment Mark, it’s best to just end it here. 

“You can use me too, you know,” Donghyuck adds.

“Huh?” You blink.

“For your revenge,” he clarifies. “Use me. To make him jealous, to bully him, whatever you want.” 

For a moment, you almost believe he somehow read your mind. 

“Just wanted to let you know,” he says, shrugging, “since you probably think it would be too mean. Plus, I think you would need my help anyways.”

That makes you feel greatly offended. “What is that supposed to mean? You say that like I didn’t set a car on fire.” 

“You’re too naive in your thinking. Revenge doesn’t always have to be loud and in your face like that. It’s a lot more fun when you break them down psychologically in more subtle ways,” he explains.

“So, you―as a government employee―can’t approve of me committing arson because I got cheated on, but you―as a government employee―can casually and openly discuss waging psychological warfare on another civilian. On said person who cheated on me, who also happens to be your cousin because you seemed to have forgotten that, ” you point out sardonically. 

Donghyuck just smiles before slightly leaning in, eyes flickering down to your lips. You open your mouth to retort but your words instantly die in your throat, softly gasping when his hand brushes your chin as he reaches over and swipes a bit of chocolate frosting from your bottom lip with his thumb. 

“Sure I can,” he answers smoothly, “because, unlike a certain someone, I won’t get caught.” 

“I didn’t―”

“And by the way, Mark didn’t tell me you set his car on fire.” 

You gawk at him as he walks past you with a content grin on his face. “Now come on, I hear my aunt calling for us.” 

Maybe you need to take back your earlier statement of Donghyuck being too kind. He might actually have more screws loose than you.

.

.

.

You almost completely forget about Mark until he finally comes downstairs for the white elephant exchange. You’re in such a daze from your earlier interaction with Donghyuck that you barely recoil when Mark takes a seat beside you on the couch, especially since Donghyuck is sitting in the rocking chair directly across from you. 

The gift exchange begins once everyone has drawn a number, and you honestly just dissociate for the first half of it. Keeping your gaze trained on the piece of paper that has 26 scribbled on it, you don’t look up until you feel Mark get up beside you and pick a gift from the pile. You’re praying to both Jesus and Santa that he doesn’t pick yours, but you suppose you've been deemed a sinner and also put on the Naughty List (maybe for setting your cheating ex’s care on fire?) because Mark somehow manages to find yours in the pile of presents. 

When he opens it, you can tell by the way he quickly glances at you that he knows it’s yours. After all, he saw you practicing your knitting throughout the week. He happily wraps it around his neck and beams proudly. “I love it.”

The way he carefully looks back at you makes you want to smack him into the new year. You know he’s trying to get on your good side, and you make it clear with your scowl that it isn’t working. 

You’re actually grateful that it’s your turn next so that you’re able to get up and walk away from him. Wanting to get this entire situation over with, you haphazardly grab one from the top of the pile. Your heart sinks when you take out the stuffing paper from the bag and realize that it’s Mark’s gift. You contemplate putting the paper back in and not opening it at all, but you cave under the pressure of all the expectant pairs of eyes on you. 

In typical Mark fashion, his gift is a signed T-shirt of his own merch. It’s an obnoxious yellow color with his Twitch username and a giant screen printed image of his face plastered across it. He’s written his signature right over his forehead, so it makes him look like he has random chicken scratch on his face. 

“Oh, it must be destiny!” Mrs. Lee exclaims, clapping her hands together. 

You force a smile before returning to your seat, doing everything in your power to ignore Mark’s stupid giddy expression. Shoving the shirt back into the bag, you casually kick it away from you. 

A couple more people take their turns, and you’re counting down the seconds to when this is finally over so you can go home. Eventually, it’s Donghyuck’s turn, and he saunters towards you and holds his hand out. 

“Gimme.”

You blink at him.

“Your gift. I’m stealing it,” he explains, wiggling his fingers. 

“You want…this?” you ask, completely baffled. 

“Well, duh. It’s going to sell for a lot of money, you know.” He winks. 

You can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s helping you out again. “This has to be unethical. Aren’t you a government employee?” 

“Government employees need to make money too,” he replies, sighing. 

“Well, if you really want it, I guess I have no choice,” you huff, faking exasperation before handing him the bag. 

You’re smiling when he takes it and walks back to his chair, and you hear Mark grumble something under his breath. Turning to him, you raise an eyebrow, snippily asking, “What?”

“I said,” he repeats so loudly that it reverberates throughout the room, “when did the two of you get so friendly?” 

A silence falls over everyone, and the two of you are now center stage. 

“Are you really going to do this now?” you hiss. 

“I noticed that the two of you were getting awfully cozy behind the Christmas tree earlier,” Mark retorts, shrugging. 

Donghyuck gets up to intervene, but he doesn’t have time to even react before you grab a pillow from the couch and chuck it in Mark’s face. 

“You’ve got some nerve. Was this your plan all along? To make me look like the bad guy in front of your family?” you demand, feeling your face grow hotter and hotter from rage. “You and uwukittenbb69 were getting awfully cozy too, don’t you think? I’d say snug as a bug in a goddamn rug even.” 

Mark stands up in a flash, his eyes frantically glancing at his mom before pointing his finger at you. “Baby, I told you she was just a friend.” 

You nearly choke on air when you hear him call you that. Making a beeline towards the pile of presents, you begin to toss them at Mark with each question you add. “You absolute lunatic. Do friends beg each other for pictures of their tits? Do friends write raps confessing their love for one another? Do friends blow off their anniversary with their girlfriend so that they can meet up for a quick booty call? And yes, I’m saying quick because you and I both know it’ll be a speedy endeavor.”

“What on Earth is going on?” Mrs. Lee cries out as Mark tries his best to swat away the presents being hurled at him. 

“You’re a psycho bitch,” Mark yells. “It’s not like I actually slept with her. We were just messing around online. You got jealous over nothing. And you set my car on fire!” 

“You wanna see psycho?” you snap, throwing the present in your hands down onto the floor and marching towards him with your bare fists before you suddenly stop and take in your surroundings. You see the horror and shock on everyone’s faces, the way they’re looking at you, and then perhaps most clear of all―Mark’s expression. He’s angry just like you, but there’s a glimmer of victory in his eyes. As if he’s bested you in some manner. 

And he has. You’re the villain now.

Taking in a deep breath, you will yourself to walk over to Mark in a calm manner, looking him directly in the eye. 

“You’re nothing except a liar and a cheater, Mark Lee. That will never change that no matter how much you try to spin it in front of your family. You built your success off my back, and I hope that haunts you for the rest of your life. May you receive everything that you’ve done to me tenfold. That’s all I want to say—” You pause. “Oh, and I’ve always thought your Cybertruck was fucking ugly.” 

You reach over and snatch the scarf from his neck before turning and walking out of the door, feeling like you finally managed to cut off the ball and chain around your ankle. Just as you’re about to reach your car, you hear someone calling after you. 

“I’ll drive you home,” Donghyuck says once he catches up to you. 

“I’m not so distraught that I’ll become a hazard on the road,” you say wryly

“Well, when it comes to being around a car, you’ve certainly proved that you’re not exactly at your most dangerous when you’re behind the wheel,” he jokes. 

“You may have a point,” you acknowledge, giving him a small smile.

“Let me drive you home, Y/N. I’m worried about you,” he insists again, much quieter this time. 

“How are you going to get back then?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“I’ll call an Uber or something.” 

“That would be such a waste of money,” you snort.

“Not if it’s for you,” he says almost instantly. His normally brown eyes almost look auburn when under the golden glow of the sunset. 

There’s such determination, such assurance, such warmth in his gaze that you let yourself be surrounded with, no longer having the energy to resist him, and it feels like falling onto a soft cloud after a long, winding journey. For once, you just want someone to take care of you, even if it’s just for a moment. 

“Fine. Do as you please,” you relent, tossing him your car keys before walking around to the passenger side and climbing in. 

Donghyuck looks relieved, beaming when he situates himself in the driver’s seat. You try not to be impressed with the way he easily backs out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the headrest behind you, maneuvering the wheel with a deftness you’ve never seen before. Then again, he does drive a massive fire truck on the daily, so your Toyota probably isn’t much of a challenge for him. 

He drives with his eyes staring straight down the road―almost too focused―because you know he’s trying not to look at you. Probably because you’re making it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to look at you, leaning your head against the window and away from him. It doesn’t mean that you don’t see his wandering eyes, almost as if it were second nature, drift back to you in the reflection of the window.

“Pathetic, right?” you finally say, feeling suffocated by the heavy silence.

“What’s pathetic?” 

“Me.” 

“Why would you be pathetic?” Donghyuck grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as the leather creaks under the force of his hold.

“Mark was right. I talked a big game in front of him, but in the end, I was just the psycho ex-girlfriend. I told myself that I would never let him hold my emotions hostage anymore. That I would erase any care I had for him left in me. Because indifference means that I’m truly free. But I couldn’t do it. I really hate him, to my very core, and that means he still has power over me. I hate that most of all. I want him to feel the same pain I did, and I want to exact revenge on him, but at the same time, I want to move on with my life. I’m like a dog chasing my own tail; it’s pathetic.” 

You wanted to sound more lighthearted about this, turn it into a joke, but Donghyuck seems to draw out a vulnerability within you that makes you want to tell him everything you’ve been trying to desperately ignore. 

“Y/N, you’re dealing with the end of a long-term relationship. It’s only natural that you have confusing and conflicting feelings about everything. You’re not pathetic; you’re human. Mark stole your girlhood and your youth, and it’s going to take time for you to heal from that. It’s impossible to immediately get back on your feet after what he did to you. None of this is your fault, so don’t ever berate yourself,” Donghyuck’s voice trembles as he speaks. “I promise you that one day, you’re going to wake up and you’ll realize that you don’t remember what Mark's favorite food is. His favorite movie. His favorite color. Then you’ll realize that you can barely even remember what his face looks like when he’s sad, happy, angry. Eventually, you’ll forget about him entirely, and all the pain he caused you will just be seconds of your life that evaporates from your mind completely.”

When he speaks to you like there’s nothing he’s more sure of in this world, it makes you want to believe him. You want to be his promise. 

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, placing your hand on top of his for just a moment before pulling away. Your touch is feather light, but you hope he didn’t notice the way your fingertips lingered a second longer. 

The two of you fall quiet again, but this time, the silence is much more comfortable now. You’re almost disappointed when he pulls into your apartment complex, unsure of how to say goodbye to him. 

“Would you like some hot cocoa or something?” you blurt out when he parks. “I think I have some in my apartment.”

You don’t realize how suggestive your offer sounds until it’s too late. Donghyuck hesitates for a moment, and you can tell he’s debating on if he should tease you about it or not. To your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s getting dark soon, so I should head back.” He pulls out his phone and starts ordering an Uber. 

“Want me to wait with you then?” You’re not sure why you keep insisting on staying with him, but this day has been so batshit insane that you almost feel like a passenger in your own body. 

“Probably not a good idea,” he chuckles.

Now, you feel both confused and slightly offended again.

“And why is that? I know I’ve been a bit of a menace today, but still…” you trail off awkwardly. 

Donghyuck pauses for a moment as he stares at you; his face is closer to yours than it’s ever been because you’re sitting right next to him. You can tell he’s thinking very carefully about his next words. It occurs to you that, for a guy as seemingly flippant as him, he is actually quite thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve been compared to Mark my entire life,” he begins, musing. 

“Sooo…you didn’t want me to wait with you because you’re gearing up for a trauma dump?” You raise an eyebrow. 

Donghyuck holds his hand up in front of you, shushing you. “Shh, let me have my big moment.” 

“Sorry. Please proceed.” 

“Ahem. As I was saying, I was but a poor, innocent wee boy living in the shadow of the golden child in our family. Mark was always the more athletic, the funnier, the more charming one. His grades were ass, but he always managed to get out of trouble because he was the favorite. When I got my job as a firefighter and he was unemployed, my family barely congratulated me or even acknowledged it at all because they were afraid they would upset Mark. You see, I’ve actually lived quite a tragic life,” Donghyuck sniffles, wiping away a fake tear. 

“What a shame that they can’t see how wonderful you are,” you chime in, a smile in your voice. 

Your honesty in response to his joke visibly catches him off guard, and he blinks a couple of times before your words finally register. 

“Right?” he huffs dramatically, but he can’t seem to meet your eyes completely as a light flush dustes his face and ears. “But fret not, I didn’t particularly mind. It was nice not having to live up to any expectations. Besides, I was happy for Mark when he finally got successful as a streamer. We were raised like brothers, and I always admired him. I was proud of him.” 

“Ha, little did you know—”

“All this to say that, growing up, I’ve never been once jealous of Mark,” Donghyuck states proudly. 

Then he slowly looks over at you with longing eyes, almost as if his body turning itself towards you is a natural reflex. His expression is so soft and affectionate that it nearly takes your breath away. 

“That is, until he met you.” 

So, this is what Donghyuck looks like when he’s in love. You wonder if it would ever be possible for you to wake up one day and not remember it. 

But you aren’t sure if you return his feelings in the same way. Just like you couldn’t bring yourself to use him for your revenge, you can’t bring yourself to ask him to wait for you while you figure out the mess of your current emotional state. The one who loves more always loses, and you don’t want to lose Donghyuck. 

“I just wanted to tell you that,” he continues, “I’m not expecting a response. It’s for the better you don’t respond right now anyways. If you want to pretend like this conversation was all a bad dream conjured up by sleep paralysis and never want to talk about it again, I’m okay with that too.” 

You smile. 

“But…if you’re able to, just look my way sometimes. I’ll do everything in my power to keep your attention, even if I have to get on a unicycle with a clown nose and juggle. And, if one day, you find yourself looking for me on your own, let me know. Then, I’ll ask for an answer,” Donghyuck promises.  

True to your word, you don’t give him an answer. Instead, you take the scarf that’s been laying across your lap—the scarf with a few holes thanks to missing yarn and sections where you accidentally knitted the pattern in the wrong direction. Now it’s a bit stretched out due to you snatching it off Mark. 

But this scarf, as average (maybe even less) as it may be, is charming in its own way. 

Leaning forward, you wrap the scarf around Donghyuck’s neck. He watches you in complete awe, in a trance, as if he were in a dream and any movement would wake him up. 

“I should head inside now,” you say quietly, trying not to giggle at his stupefied expression.

He only nods dazedly, and you’re certain that would have been his reaction regardless of what you said. It takes a few more beats for your words to actually click before he clears his throat loudly. “Right. Yes. You should.” 

He hands you your keys back before stepping out of the car and opening your door for you. “I’ll wait down here until you get inside, and then I’ll go meet my Uber.” 

“Thanks for driving me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him. 

“You’re welcome. Good night, Y/N.” Donghyuck puts his hands in his pockets and tucks his chin into the scarf as he watches you go.

As your hand hovers over the doorknob, you know you should just open the door and walk inside so you don’t keep him waiting in the cold. You really shouldn’t look back because it would mean that you wanted to. Not because he asked you to. 

But you do. You look back—

only to meet his eyes, the two of you exchanging knowing smiles.

extra | is it me? am i the drama? i don’t think i’m the drama…

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 9h

(UPDATE) AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

So, it turns out my cheating ex got catfished. His supposed Discord kitten was actually some random guy and his friend who were dicking around. They ended up leaking the DMs so they’re all public now for those who would like to read them (by now, I’m sure you all know who my cheating ex is). I would highly advise against listening to the rap confession though. Godspeed if you choose to. I am also selling his expensive PC setup on Facebook Marketplace if anyone’s interested. Happy New Year!

P.S. I ended up inviting the cousin over for hot cocoa. He’s very sweet. 

⥣ 11.3k ⥥ 2,293 Comments

pissrevolver1122 • 8h rip bozo got catfished by me n bro for some robux 

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.8k ⥥

pooprevolver0205 • 8h can’t believe bro actually jacked off to a pic of knees LMAO ➥ ⥣ 1.9k ⥥

piss-k1nk0219 • 2h yall are about to have the awkwardest family get togethers ever lmao

➥ Reply ⥣ 910 ⥥

bigsnowballs0813 • 4h $5 and an iced coffee for the pc take it or leave it

➥ Reply ⥣ 748 ⥥

femboyluvr0701 • 1h are u gonna set the cousin's car on fire too

➥ Reply ⥣ 639 ⥥

justgirlythings-arson119 • 1h probably not he’s very good at putting out fires :(  ➥ ⥣ 482 ⥥

[wincore]

deck the halls (with spiderwebs) | ldh

pairing: spiderman!haechan x fem!reader

synopsis: donghyuck’s short term goal is to finish his bachelor’s degree even if it’s with a 20% attendance, and his long term goal is to be the smoothest, coolest spiderman ever. the latter, however, doesn’t really work out when he’s crashed into a wall thrice in public because of you.

genre: spiderman!au, bff2l, action (??), comedy, fluff

warning(s): injuries (so many), sexual innuendos, language, j*ke gyl*enh*al slander

words: 10.2k 

song rec: sunflower by post malone, swae lee

notes: ok so. pls read this like a movie in your head bc i was thinking of movies instead of actual literature writing this. also thank you miss cat, pun queen and professional title maker, for donating this title to me bc i could never come up with something so good 😩

There’s a two hundred-foot-tall stone gargoyle in front of Donghyuck’s university. Donghyuck has no idea why there’s a two-hundred-foot-tall stone gargoyle in front of his university. 

It stands proud, eyes trained on the horizon, looking way too lively for marble. In fact, the most disturbing part is probably that the thing is alive. Its face is a little less scary than the actual gargoyle statues at monuments, owing to the rather kind, round shape of its eyes. A stone mustache follows under its nostrils, falling into place (it’s a sculpture) in a way that makes it seem refined. God, why is Donghyuck evaluating a behemoth stone figure obstructing pedestrian traffic? He should get up there and convince it to leave.

“What the fuck is that?” Renjun says from beside him.

“A two-hundred-foot-tall stone gargoyle,” answers Mark Lee, ever so helpful.

“Well, why is it here?” Renjun hisses.

“Uh.” Like Donghyuck mentioned, Mark Lee is ever so helpful with his answers.

You know who’s actually helpful? That’s right—Professor Kim for not kicking Donghyuck out of his classes for the last few weeks. Granted he was only an average of five minutes late and less truck-accident-core than before. The second most helpful person in Donghyuck’s life is obviously Spiderman. If it wasn’t obvious, that’s because he forgot to mention he’s Spiderman.

“When will we get a peaceful walk home?” Jaemin rolls his eyes. “It’s some bullshit every week.”

“It’s not like you have to do anything,” Jeno counters. “Spiderman comes and gets rid of them.”

That’s his cue, and leaving might arouse suspicion but not in this case. Donghyuck knows these guys. They wouldn’t care about finding Spiderman’s identity unless they were rewarded with pizza coupons or chocolate chip cookies. 

“I’m gonna go ahead…” Donghyuck flashes them a pair of finger guns.

“Oh no,” Renjun huffs in annoyance. “You are an asshole but you have to stop leaving us during times of crisis.”

“Ugh. I don’t care about the gargoyle, I care about not getting kicked out of ochem. Spiderman will handle it anyway, right?”

That’s partially true. He does not want to get kicked out of class again but he also doesn’t want an animated gargoyle the size of a Boeing to destroy his campus. He’s going to make this quick. Evading this bunch of idiots isn’t that hard, honestly. 

Just as Donghyuck is about to fasten his pace, he bumps into another unwanted face in front of the engineering hall. 

“Oh, hey, (name).” His voice cracks immediately. 

Donghyuck clears his throat. He’s not trying to impress his best friend since third grade, certainly, but putting on a smoother, deeper, and sexier voice can’t hurt. He needs a rep boost as just Lee Donghyuck. “Hey, (name). Didn’t see you there.”

You cross your arms.

“You are way too relaxed for someone failing ochem,” you chide.

“I’m not failing ochem,” he defends quickly. “I know what aminoethanoic acid is.”

Why would he say that? He's far from smooth now.

“What does glycine have anything to do with that?” You raise an eyebrow. “Weirdo.”

“No… particular reason. God, I’m not arguing with my rich, hot, nerd best friend who tries to act better than everyone else. Resolve your daddy issues first.”

Donghyuck stomps his foot in impatience before attempting to bypass you and your stupidly gorgeous face. (He didn’t say that out loud and he never will.)

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” You grin. “You think I’m hot?”

“That’s why you stopped me?”

“Oh, uh. Right. I need help. You noticed the huge gargoyle outside campus?”

“Huge is an understatement. Either that or you’re really bad at using guesstimating words.”

“Shut up.” Your voice lowers, and Donghyuck hates to admit this, but the sudden spark of concern in your voice tugs at his heart in the most maddening way possible. 

There’s a long pause.

“Well?” 

You mumble out an answer, “That…uh… that may have been my fault.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck straightens. “Is that so?”

“Don’t get cocky.”

“I was born better than everyone else, can’t help it.”

He was better than everyone else till a spider bit him. Now he has to find cats and fight some ridiculous fish monster at 3 a.m (the fish monster was a one-time thing but they get increasingly unbelievable each time) and deal with dark circles as massive as a continent. He thinks he'd make a far better supervillain. Having to be all goody-two-shoes and friendly in public has given him a blow to his dignity. 

But whoever said being a superhero is not fun and games was also a big, fat liar. You get to do sick backflips and gain public praise, you get free churros from old Dominican ladies you happen to help cross the road, and most importantly, you can read all the horrible thirst tweets because everyone has a thing for Spiderman’s voice now. (Donghyuck would wash his brain with bleach to erase those memories.) No, but, really, he might be pretty popular as Lee Donghyuck, but there’s a certain freedom that crimson mask grants him—that he can do anything, and people will still love him. 

And yet, there’s only one person he looks to for love. 

“Look, you know how… aliens and wizards and cyborgs and stuff are totally normal, right? It’s not like I’m putting anyone in mortal danger. Right?” You try to gather your words.

“Uh-huh.”

“I… accidentally… sent a distress signal from one of the pile-of-rocks-looking aliens that visited dad for business last week.”

Donghyuck blinks. “And how… did you send this distress signal?”

“In my defense, it’s really not a thing someone with common sense would suspect.”

“Go on.” A smile is tugging at Donghyuck’s lips, watching you shift your weight from foot to foot. This better be embarrassing enough to tease you till next Halloween.

“I didn’t know singing the lyrics to ‘Last Christmas’ would activate the stupid ring I stole from the aliens, Jesus.”

You hug yourself, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Would you stop being cute? That face of yours has made him swing straight at a building more than once. They even wrote an article on that! It was titled “The baby spider has yet to grasp his powers—find out why!” and they didn’t even get the reason right; pinning it on some crappy conspiracy theory about how glass makes Spiderman weaker. (If only they knew a glance from you is what brings him to his knees.)

“The stupid thing started beeping like crazy and I had to run out of the shower half-naked—don’t picture that, pervert.”

“That’s a terrible accusation, also your terrible singing activated some terrible weird alien device and you never mentioned it to anyone?”

“It’s not terrible, and no! How was I supposed to explain the stealing part to my dad? He’s an intergalactic businessman!”

“It is terrible, it probably sounded like an alien creature wailing for help and hence—activating your little device.”

“Enough with that already! Help me out now.” You huff.

Donghyuck sighs, rolling his eyes at your determined face. Just how capable do you think he is? Sure, he’s your reliable, handsome, popular best friend but it’s not like you know he can shoot webs at stuff and swing around New York City whenever he wants. He’s not letting you shoulder the burden of a secret. (It’s also because you have a loud mouth.)

“And you think I can help because…?”

“You’re Spiderman!”

Donghyuck blinks. What?

“What did you say?”

“You’re Spiderman. What, did you think you could keep a secret from me?” 

Play dumb, he thinks.

“Who’s Spiderman?”

Not that dumb. 

You give him a look, specifically the look that spells ‘Hey, Lee Donghyuck, you’re an idiot and I can see into your soul’. Or maybe, that’s his inner voice talking. Regardless, he’s a little unsure how to respond. Why is it always you ruining his smooth operations?

He breathes out. “No, wait. You don’t understand.”

Donghyuck quickly pulls you into a corner, leaving barely any space between the two of you. He would be uncomfortable like this on any given day, all red in the face and palpitating heart. This is kind of an emergency and though Donghyuck’s job description is handling emergencies, he’s not sure how to react.

“You’re not supposed to say that out loud,” he hisses. “What if someone heard?”

“Oh. Uh… sorry. I didn't think that through.” You flash him an apologetic smile. “Are you actually weak to glass, by the way?”

“No, I’m not. Jesus, has everyone read that theory?”

“Most people in the fanclub.”

“Wait, what?” A surprised chuckle leaves Donghyuck. “Fanclub? You’re in my fanclub?”

“No… not exactly. I heard… from my friends… who are in the fanclub.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“And so are you, if your secret is so easy to figure out.”

“I’m only bad at lying to you.”

“Ugh, whatever,” you groan, throwing your head back. “Can’t argue with you. I only joined it to check up on what cool things you were doing every day. I mean, you fought one of the Aquanoids? So cool.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“You know, eight-foot-tall half-fish with the poison spikes.”

“It has a name? And there’s more of them?”

“Ugh, Hyuck, don’t be boring. You get to swing through skyscrapers and bust some cool moves and save people in times of crisis. I wish I had that kinda superpower. To be free.”

You mumble the last part. He’s come to hate that despondent look on you. But Donghyck knows how to cheer you up. He wasn’t voted class clown from grade six through ten for nothing.

“Wanna go swinging?” He asks.

“What?”

“Through the buildings. Your eyes lit up when you said that. Oh, look, they’re lighting up again. Did you emotionally manipulate me into making this offer?”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! You’re the best, Hyuck!”

Donghyuck smiles back at you, the tension growing larger inside his ribcage into a sticky spiderweb of emotions. Then he remembers the two-hundred-foot-tall stone gargoyle. 

“I should- I should deal with your marble mishap first,” he says.

“Is that what you’re calling it? Ooh, do you have secret mission names for each of them?”

He makes a face, an exasperated hand gesture following.

“Right, got it.” 

You walk with Donghyuck side by side, a slight skip to your step.

“So, do you have, like, a secret lair like Batman? Ooh, or a Spidermobile!”

“I don’t even have a driver’s license.”

You laugh, and Donghyuck is grateful for the sound. When the two of you reach the locker room, you still stand outside like a child in front of an ice cream truck. He had no idea you had a thing for superheroes. He might've told you this whole thing earlier.

“Give me some space, creep.” He grabs you by the shoulders to gently push you away, a disapproving look on his face.

“Well, you’re not changing in front of the locker room, are you?”

“No, but it’s so weird having you wait in front like that!”

“Fine, fine.”

You step back until you're pressed to the windowsill and he makes his way inside, quickly closing the door. He's gonna run you through his ‘Do not tell people I'm Spiderman’ manual later in the evening.

Donghyuck has decided to swing out the window of the locker room. It still feels surreal that you know, and he’s not sure if he wants to face you in spandex when you know it’s him. He’s getting a little self-conscious about his butt. 

He shakes his head. 

“Whatever. This’ll be quick.”

Donghyuck climbs out the window, crawling over the wall to the top of the building. He has a great view of the gargoyle from here, and in fact, this stone creature has the greatest set of abs Donghyuck has ever laid eyes on and possibly, will ever lay eyes on. He shoots a web over to the next building, swinging close enough to sling another web at the gargoyle’s shoulder. Thankfully, this did not activate a defense mechanism involving lasers and chainsaws like he anticipated.

Donghyuck lands gracefully, a move he prides himself on, and perches atop the gargoyle’s shoulder. 

“Great abs!” He yells, not sure why he did. “Wait, uh, that’s not the point.”

The creature is still looking over the horizon. He shoots a web at the forehead, hoping it’s not too rude, and lands on its nose. 

“Hello?” He waves his hand in front of its eye. “Anyone in there?”

He follows its vision trained on the horizon. It’s not exactly the horizon, he discovers, but a specific building within the campus. 

Donghyuck groans. He’s gonna have to get you, isn’t he? After a few seconds of contemplating his misery, he swings back over and pretends that was part of his plan. Luck must truly be on your side today.

Donghyuck can’t lie. Your pout gets the best of him. He would’ve rammed straight into the closed window like a fucking bird if he noticed it too late.

“You totally left me!” You huff.

“I did not.” Donghyuck places a hand over his heart. “Anyway, get on.”

“On what? You? Like a bike?”

“Jeez, stop making it sound dirty.”

“Hyuck!” 

He loves the embarrassment in your voice, a grin forcing its way onto his face. You can’t see it, but he gets the feeling you know anyway. How did he not see it coming? That you’d figure it out? Admittedly, it doesn’t feel as awful as he thought it would. A sense of relief washed over him instead. He’s not a terrible liar, but his stomach would always churn trying to keep things from you. Maybe it was because you were always so honest. If you found something interesting, the whole neighborhood would know and if you had a crush, the school would be getting you together with them already. It got on his nerves countless times, but eventually, he found that he loves it’s the way you are.

“You’re choking me, (name),” he says. Your legs are around his waist snug but your arms around his neck are a little too tight.

“Now, who’s being kinky?” You scoff.

“Really not the time, (name). We could fall to our deaths ten storeys below. Just you though. I have lightning-fast reflexes to keep myself alive.”

You groan, your grip on his neck loosening but now your legs tighten. This is going to take a few tries to get right and Donghyuck can only hope you don’t ask for free swing rides around NYC every day. 

Just as Donghyuck is about to swing to the gargoyle’s shoulder, it turns its head in a manner so sudden and unnerving, he almost misses—the web landing near his armpit instead. Donghyuck has never thought of death so soon—not because of the gargoyle but because of your iron grip. Seriously, you could be murdering supervillains left and right if you put this strength to use.

A low whine emits from his throat as he struggles to get up to the shoulder with you on but he does get there.

“Dude, it’s looking directly at us,” you say, getting off him as he falls to the stone beneath immediately, breathing heavily.

“I think God’s looking directly at me.”

“Hello? Hello!” You yell. 

A sudden whirring sound makes the whole unit shake, your hands naturally grabbing onto his arm. It makes him feel strong in a way a prepubescent boy with a first crush would feel so he pays no heed to the rising bloom of emotions in his chest. It’s cool, it’s cool. He’s Spiderman. He’s been bitten by a radioactive spider, and god, he has really sticky hands. He hopes you don’t try to hold them. 

“Greetings.”

An odd smile stretches across the stone structure—odd because it’s freaking cute. 

“Can you, uh, go back to space?” Donghyuck yells.

You smack his chest, eliciting an ‘oof’ from him. “Don’t be rude, Spiderboy.”

You turn back to it.

“What is your purpose here?” You yell.

Donghyuck snickers. “What’s with the fake Thor accent?”

“It’s called a British accent, idiot. And it’s so I sound cool and important.”

He rolls his eyes, although he can’t help the smile.

“I am here to collect an Earth innovation sample as per instructions.” The voice isn't as booming as Donghyuck thought it would be. It's quite friendly, in fact, and the voice emanates from a very specific part of the gargoyle's throat.

“Oh, great, what the hell is that?” Donghyuck asks.

“So you’re not here to destroy Earth and devour its remnants?” You pipe up, frowning. “That’s so boring, man.”

“Shush,” Donghyuck pushes your head down. “You’re not even helping keep earth safe.”

“I’m sorry, say that again? I donate to fighting pollution and global warming every month.”

“What’s an Earth innovation sample?” Donghyuck asks. “Is (name)’s stupid robotics project okay?”

“Hey! I worked for three months on that.”

“And all it does is beep and take photos of street cats.”

“You’re telling me that’s not peak innovation?”

“Maybe if it had a snack dispenser.”

The stone gargoyle seems to be observing your conversation and Donghyuck suddenly feels a little awkward under the hippo-sized eyes.

You clear your throat. “Uh, Mr. Gargoyle, sir? What exactly is an innovation sample?”

“Your latest radiofrequency devices, Miss.”

“Oh, so, like, phones!” You answer, bright-faced and stupidly proud of getting that right. Donghyuck presses his lips together before realizing you can’t see him smile so he might as well.

“Oh, so you won’t answer me but her, Stonehenge? Anyway, I have a great solution. Stay here.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna jump o—”

Donghyuck jumps off the shoulder, a sharp laugh following as he swings around the gargoyle’s arm and then from the knee to finally land in front of a familiar group. If that doesn’t impress someone, they have to be the most boring person in the universe (or multiverse, who knows?)

“Oh my God, it’s Spiderman!” Mark exclaims, lighting up. 

“Don’t make that face, Mark, you’re embarrassing us in front of Spiderman,” Chenle quips.

Donghyuck wonders how disappointed the older boy would be if he learned about Spiderman’s identity. Donghyuck has the urge to tell him just to scandalize him.

“Hey, guys,” Donghyuck greets, “Do you mind if I borrowed your phone? Permanently borrowed, that is.”

“Are you mugging us?” Jaemin asks.

“Well… the two hundred foot stone gargoyle is here to collect data and any phone or computer will do. I mean, I could swing by the labs and get one of those computers that’ve been there since the sixties but I’d feel bad scamming the big guy.”

Donghyuck knows he’s a piece of shit for scamming his friends instead, but he’s serving a higher purpose.

“Oh, well, if it’s really necessary,” Mark responds, shuffling through his bag. Oh, for the love of God, does he have to be the nicest person on earth? Maybe he should’ve been the superhero instead. Or at least his sidekick, because Donghyuck is getting really tired of handling things solo. (Huh, ‘Spiderman and Buggy’ sounds pretty great, he thinks.)

“No, not yours, Android boy,” Donghyuck says, shaking his head. “Give me that.”

He points towards Jaemin’s phone in his hand. Finally. Goodbye to Jaemin’s stupid alarm that wakes up everyone in the whole building but him. (This is a higher purpose, okay? He worships his sleep time.)

“Uh, okay.”

Donghyuck is so glad Jaemin is too tired in the morning to argue. He knows the guy would squabble to death over the smallest things, Spiderman or not. 

“Thanks, guys,” he says, the grin evident in his voice before swinging back.

“Wow. Spiderman.” Mark whispers before getting several elbows from the guys.

Back at the gargoyle’s shoulder, you seem to be engaged in conversation with the thing—Donghyuck isn’t really surprised. After the day he met you and talked your ear off, he learned what it meant to really talk someone’s ear off. And Donghyuck thought he was annoying.

“Here!” Donghyuck yells, waving the phone around.

“We got it!” You tell the gargoyle, smiling brightly.

You’re kind of cute, Donghyuck thinks. You’re a little too cute.

The whirring starts again, the stone structure shaking and Donghyuck is perfectly fine, owing to his sticky feet but that’s when he notices you falling off, a scream dying in your throat. 

He grabs onto your wrist just as you’re about to lose footing and fall backwards to your death.

“Pull me up!” You scream.

“Say please!”

“Fuck you!”

“Do it yourself,” he mutters, pulling you close.

“You- I- You’re- You’re so insufferable, Lee Donghyuck!” You breathe heavily, face steaming from chagrin.

He laughs, the sound resonating in the area and you look like you’re about to pounce on him and beat the shit out of him. The unbeatable Spiderman has only you to fear, after all.

You notice the little door at the neck of the creature, skipping over and peering in.

“Ooh, it’s really dark in here.”

“Just drop the phone, (name).”

“Ugh, fine. Wait, is this Jaemin’s phone?”

“No.”

This ends your whole stone gargoyle ordeal and while Donghyuck’s glad it’s over, he doesn’t enjoy your parting from holding onto him. It’s a weird feeling, like a spider’s woven a web all across his heart and decided to squeeze it into overdrive. Adrenaline doesn't feel this way. No freaky radioactive spider hormone feels this way. 

“See you in ochem,” you whisper, tiptoeing as he sits on the window ledge.

The action, however, catches him off guard and he stumbles backward, falling straight into garbage cans outside the building with a loud, embarrassing cacophony accompanying.

“Are you okay?” You yell, heavily concerned.

Donghyuck can only gesture a thumbs up while he tries to pull his soul back into his body. 

This is bad. This is very bad. Lee Donghyuck has caught feelings in his spiderweb.

Lee Donghyuck starts classes the next day with two bandaids on his face and a bandaged arm. You think the swelling on his cheek isn’t that bad—the puffiness is honestly making him look cute for once. 

This was before you accidentally flew your drone into his face.

“You’re lucky I didn't get stitches,” he grumbles, holding an ice pack to his forehead, where yet another bandaid has been added.

“I’m so sorry, Hyuck, I got so excited to see you I pressed the controller too hard. Do you want me to hold that for you?”

“Hold the weight of my broken heart. Also my bags and the ice pack, yeah, thanks.”

“Drama queen,” you tease.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me all the way back.”

You ignore his statement. Your curiosity is tugging at the corner of every thought you have, and you add a skip to your steps, smiling. 

“Hey, do you lay eggs?”

“What? No! I’m a dude.”

“Do you spit venom?”

“No.”

“Do you never let me hold your hand because your palms are sticky?”

“...No.”

You give him a look and he groans, before yelping at the pain.

“Sometimes they get sticky when I don’t want them to. It’s mostly under control. Besides, why would I wanna hold your sweaty hands?”

You roll your eyes.

“You have your key?” You ask as your apartment comes into view.

“In my bag. Wait, no. My pockets? Oh no. I left it on the roof!”

The energy seems to drain from his face as his eyes roll up in exasperation. He looks back at you with a pointed look. “I’m very responsible—this was all Mark’s fault.”

“What did he do?” You furrow your brows.

“I don’t know, it’s always his fault.”

You shake your head. “I have my key, let’s go. Where would you be without me, Lee Donghyuck?”

“Suffering fewer injuries.”

“Fine.” 

Somehow, you managed to get him to his room without furthering his injuries—despite how accident-prone you are. Hyuck would call it a miracle but his mouth probably needs a nurse checkup too. He says a nap cures everything and you’d call bullshit but he does miraculously heal after a nap. It all makes sense now. 

You have one evening class and you are so going to grill some answers out of Hyuck after that. Only because you think superheroes are cool. It’s just that Spiderman is the coolest. (You had the thought before you learned it was your lame best friend.) And you’re mixing up some of your feelings because surely, your pulse shouldn’t be rising when you think of him. You gulp.

You’re not in love with Spiderman. You’re not in love with Lee Donghyuck. You’re not in love with your best friend. In eighth grade, you had deemed it scientifically impossible to be attracted to him.

However, however, the loudest your heart has ever beaten in your life was caused by just holding onto him. You’re not afraid of heights—you’ve gone bungee jumping before—so even if you blame it on the adrenaline, the doubt will always eat at your mind.

You jog all the way to class, a bit too in your feelings to notice your surroundings. It’s a short walk anyway. 

“(name)!” Jaemin yells from across the street, a big grin accompanying. “Want me to walk with you?”

“Sure!” You smile back. Walking with you will only delay him by ten minutes and it’s not like Jaemin cares about getting to class on time anymore. He’s the only guy that hasn’t cared about class timings even in freshman year—well, him and Hyuck—and you’ve got to say, he does emanate a very relaxing aura. 

What if that’s some superhero power too? You think before shaking your head. It would be convenient if Jaemin was going to sit the villain down for tea and give them therapy. 

“You’re not gonna believe what happened yesterday,” he says.

“The gargoyle?”

“Yup, he took my phone! Why didn’t I complain earlier?” He furrows his brow, hard at thought.

You laugh, about to respond when a loud crash, a grunt, and an ‘oof’ follow one after the other on the opposite side of the street. 

“Is that… Spiderman?” Jaemin blinks.

“Huh?” Your eyes follow to where he’s focused and an incredulous laugh bubbles up to your throat as you try to hold it in.

Spiderman is lying with his back flat on the pavement, and you’re sure Hyuck needs a checkup at the hospital for sure this time. He doesn’t look like he’s in mortal danger, just horribly exhausted after the accumulation of injuries. You run over, Jaemin following with long strides.

“I’m not following you guys, you have a stalker,” Spiderman informs with a finger raised, voice painfully raspy and bordering on a whine. You’re not sure what height he fell from but his back is definitely not okay.

“Okay, Spiderman,” Jaemin says, raising an eyebrow.

“Not you, twerp,” he snaps, groaning as he gets up and you grab onto his arm to help him stand.

“He’s in a bad mood,” you tell Jaemin, apologetic but not sure why. You’re not Spiderman’s mom.

“Also, I need help with my late assignments,” Donghyuck whispers to you.

“I’m sorry, what?” You whisper through your teeth. “You’re making me miss class for this?”

“There really is someone following you!” He whisper-yells.

“Are you both gonna keep aggressively whispering to each other?” Jaemin asks. “(name), I didn’t know you were so close to Spiderman.”

“I’m- uh- We became friends a few days ago,” you explain. 

“Friends is hardly the word,” Spiderman interrupts, “More like a lucky fan.”

You give him a disgruntled look.

“Oh, that’s great for you, (name)!” Jaemin breaks into a teasing smile. “You’re always—”

“Aah, let’s go, Spiderman! I feel an ominous presence. My spidey senses are tingling.”

Spiderman stares directly at you and you can’t see his face, but you think his lips are curling into a smile just about now.

“Are you gonna swing me back?” You ask, hope twinkling in your eyes, and Jaemin chuckles beside you.

“No, my bac—you know what, sure.” He shrugs. You’re not sure what made him agree so fast but you’re overjoyed, a little bounce on your feet following your ‘yay!’

“You’re so cute, (name),” Jaemin says, laughing, and you flash him a peace sign, sticking out your tongue. You don’t exactly think you’re cute. You just get excited easily. (“Like a dog,” Donghyuck said once before getting whacked in the head.)

Jaemin starts, “You know, we should—” 

“Alright! It’s time to leave. Have fun at class, dude,” Donghyuck says, placing an arm around your waist and flashing Jaemin a peace sign, copying yours.

“That’s so rude—”

You’re swung up alongside your best friend, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms around his neck so he can let go of you and focus on swinging.

“(name). (name). A little loose on the neck—gah! Your hand is on my nose! Why are you so bad at this?”

“I’m trying!”

“I can’t see! You’re covering my eyes now, holy shit.”

Before the two of you can crash through a skyscraper and get tens of thousands of glass cuts, Donghyuck lands safely on the roof of one of the shorter buildings beside. He wobbles forward, tripping and falling with you on him. He pulls off his mask, breathing heavily. The band-aid across his cheeks is coming off, the bright red scratch standing out.

“God, you’re bad at this,” you breathe out.

“Excuse me?! You’re the one getting all handsy over me.”

“You- You insufferable sack of—”

“You cannot resist me, can you?” He grins, dog-tired and yet with still enough nerve.

“I’m resisting a punch right now.”

“You can’t hurt me, I’m Spiderma—ow! Okay, you made your point.”

Your heart is still beating, the pulsing loud in your ears. You’re not sure how long adrenaline stays. All these years and you don’t know when your heart gave up trying to predict him. Behind intelligent eyes and a soft frame of face, you have no idea what he’s about to say or do next. Maybe that’s what makes him so fun. Maybe your heart was always beating this fast around him and you couldn’t hear it over the sound of his voice, warm like liquid sunlight and sweet as honey. You should’ve recognized it behind the mask right away.

“I don’t- I don’t get to chill on a roof much,” he says, “Contrary to popular belief.”

“So, this is nice?” You smile.

“I like swinging better.”

You sit up grinning. “Let’s go!”

“Let an injured man rest a little.”

So, when you do get home, it’s past midnight. Hyuck had to make a few stops between to catch a cat burglar along with a literal cat, but on the whole, you think you’ll never feel the wind on your face like that again. You’re also touched that Lee Donghyuck agreed to swing you around New York after all that he goes through.

He’s just a boy, you think. Why does the city rest so comfortably on his shoulders?

“You know, this is the first time I’ve climbed in through my own window,” you tell him as he steps into your room and closes the window behind him. “Also, it’s so fucking cold. Is your suit heated?”

“Stark product,” he answers proudly, taking off his mask to shoot you a boyish grin.

You smile back at him. 

“Oh, shoot, homework,” Donghyuck realizes out loud, eyes widening as he scuffles around.

“Oh, shoot, Jaemin,” you remember. “You should apologize to him.”

“What, now? I will not tarnish Spiderman’s reputation by breaking and entering just to apologize.”

“It sounds like something he’d do.”

“Shit, you’re right. But I’m not apologizing to him—it’s like middle school again.”

He huffs, crossing his arm.

“What happened in middle school? Oh, was it when Lana dumped your sorry ass for Jaemin?”

“No- Yes- but- gah, why do you remember that?”

“Ooh, are you jealous of Jaemin walking me to class?”

“No, that’s stupid.”

“You’re too busy to walk me home, anyway,” you tease.

He chuckles, pressing his tongue against his cheek, at a loss for words.

Right then, shuffling outside your room puts the two of you on alert. Donghyuck is still in the suit and both of you struggle to get it off as quickly as possible before Jaemin or any of your friends discover Hyuck’s secret and it gets messy.

“Woah, when did you get abs?”

“I was born sexy, why are you asking me now?” He responds. “Pass me a shirt.”

Before you can reach for any of your T-shirts, the door opens with a loud creak and Jaemin stares blankly at you, mouth open but no words come out. That’s when you realize what it looks like—Donghyuck is in his boxers in your room, you’re holding the suit bunched up and the both of you are up in each other’s personal space. 

“The walls are thin,” Jaemin says, “I’ll put on some earphones. You guys better be practicing safe sex.”

“It’s not like that!” You and Donghyuck yell at the same time.

“Then why did you strip Donghyuck in your room, (name)? Aren’t you cold, Hyuck? It’s late December.”

“He was trying on some clothes we ordered,” you answer quickly.

“Yeah, I’m playing Santa for some schoolkids downtown,” Donghyuck follows along.

“Isn’t that Spiderman though?” Jaemin points at the suit in your hands.

“I’m playing… Spiderman Santa…” Donghyuck explains.

Jaemin looks impressed and you’re so glad he doesn’t ask further. 

“You know, you had me scared there for a moment. I thought your obsession finally went too far and you convinced Hyuck to dress up as Spiderman for some kinky shit.”

Your ears burn hot. “That’s- I would never- what- why would you say that?”

“You have a pathetic crush.”

“I do not.”

“She’s totally crushing on Spiderman,” Jaemin informs, turning to Donghyuck. “Like, you don’t even know who he is. What if he’s like a thirty-year-old man? What if he’s Jake Gyllenhaal?”

“That’s not possible because Spiderman is a good guy,” you defend, crossing your arms.

“Ugh, (name), are you going to talk about how hot Spiderman is again or…?” Jaemin throws his head back. “Because he is not in my good books this week. First, he left me hanging in the middle of the street. And yesterday, he took my freaking iPhone and sent it to space! Oh, by the way, could you buy me a new one to cover the damage? I’ll forgive him then.”

“I’m not his PR manager,” you respond, exasperated, desperately avoiding Hyuck’s gaze from beside you.

“But you are his most loyal fangirl. That counts for something.”

“I’m not a Spiderman fangirl! Shut up.”

“By the way, I brought some medicine for Hyuck. I was going to tell you to buy it before Spiderman cut me off mid-sentence—you know, he’s a real asshole. Kind of like Donghyuck but his anonymity pisses me off.”

“Maybe he was in a bad mood and misunderstood,” Donghyuck mumbles.

“I know, I know.” Jaemin waves his hand around. “Guy has it rough. The peace of an entire city shouldn’t be one person’s burden. You think he has a life outside being a superhero? It must be sucky.”

“It’s not that sucky,” Hyuck counters, “Probably. I mean he gets to swing through buildings and stuff.”

Jaemin emits an exaggeratedly long groan. “So tiring.”

Donghyuck chuckles, Jaemin joining in. 

“Wow, thinking about being Spiderman tires me out,” Jaemin says, shaking his head. “Anyway, good night, guys. Remember to attend Karina’s Christmas party this weekend, and bring some alcohol because she never has enough. Also, if you guys decide to fuck—”

“That will never happen,” you say.

“Right,” Jaemin responds, a cheeky spark in his eyes. “I’ll sleep with earbuds on anyway.”

Jaemin turns around and leaves, not even closing the door. It’s like he’s a mother at the tender age of twenty-one because he sure acts like one. Donghyuck closes the door himself, turning around to give you his winning smile—the nerve in this boy is unmatched. He walks closer and your pulse spikes instantly.

“So, were you fangirling about me before you knew I was Spiderman or—”

“Shut up, Donghyuck,” you say, pressing both your hands to his mouth. Evidently, it does not help change his demeanor because he still gazes at you with the cockiest expression.

“Mmmpf- mmmh mmpsph?”

“Ew, did you just lick my palm like a dog? Your saliva isn’t gonna poison me, right?”

“No, stupid.”

You roll your eyes. “What were you saying?”

“How did you figure out I’m Spiderman?”

“You mean you didn’t think anyone could connect your mysterious disappearances with Spiderman’s mysterious appearances? Especially your best friend?”

“Yup, definitely thought I could run with it.”

“I mean, come on, you’ve responded to Spiderman once or twice. Also, you come in through the window sometimes, it’s really weird. And Jaemin said you’ve been leaking reds onto his whites whenever you do laundry.” 

He sighs, throwing his head back. 

“You can’t tell this to anyone, alright?” He says, returning his gaze to you. “Remember what I said about thinking before opening your mouth?”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Hyuck,” you mumble, leaning back and crossing your arms. “Of course I think before opening my mouth. Sometimes.”

He shakes his head. “This is why I’m smarter and have superhero powers.”

“I bet you really wanted to tell everyone.”

There’s a pause, and a smile fights its way onto his face.

“So bad,” he answers, clenching his fist. Your smile grows. 

“You have a cool job, dude.”

“But I don’t get paid. All I get is back pain.”

You laugh. Funny, sweet Lee Donghyuck. Always everyone's favorite and there's good reason to be. But you never saw him beyond your best friend. This whole unmasking thing was easy for you but now you're in a whole new dilemma of your own. You'd suspected it for a while. Were you already falling for him then?

Your eyes travel down and back up to his eyes. You clear your throat. “You should wear some clothes.”

“Why? You’re clearly enjoying this.”

Your face heats up even more. It’s not December anymore if the temperature is like this. You reach for your T-shirt and throw it at him, his laughter flooding your room with sunlight. 

You go through your missed notifications while he changes and you’re a little surprised to see the number of tags you have on Instagram. Apparently, someone caught footage of you on your little outing with NYC’s number one hero.

Donghyuck plops down on your bed, faceplanting into your pillow. “Ugh, do I have to turn in my assignments tomorrow? I’m late anyway, might as well take a whole week.”

“Christmas break starts the day after tomorrow. That means you’ll have to turn them in tomorrow.”

You get a muffled cry in response.

The video is just you holding onto Donghyuck for dear life alongside the gargoyle one from yesterday. It’s no big deal. You’ve been in news articles since you were six years old, owing to your dad’s ambitious business ventures. Ever since the first alien encounter twelve years ago, Earth has slowly been building up cordial intergalactic relations thanks to your very own father. That man has probably spent more time with aliens than he has with you. At the very least, you’ve got considerable pocket change. The tangled webs people weave for themselves are complex and hidden—sometimes you wouldn’t understand the people around you.

You sit down beside Donghyuck and he turns his head, looking up at you. You lie down directly onto him and he grunts, complaining about how heavy you are. Eventually, the two of you fit into the bed just fine.

The boy beside you made it so simple. You don’t have to understand complexities. You can just take them in and share your own till you’re all tangled up with other people. That’s how the world works—through tangles and knots and webs that make a pattern of cooperation. For the first time, you knew you had a little place to fit in. 

You want to hold his hand all of a sudden. They used to be very warm. You’re sure that hasn’t changed.

“Oh? Look, they wrote an article about the two of us,” you tell Donghyuck, tapping on the news notification that popped up. 

“If they’re being mean, let me know. I could really do with some new insults for you.”

“Hush,” you crib. “Spiderman involved with tech giant Nacorp CEO’s daughter…? They don’t even say my name anywhere!” 

A small chuckle leaves you before you can read the next sentence aloud. 

“The relationship is purely speculative at this stage but netizens suspect there may be monetary factors involved—what the fuck, do they think I’m your sugar mommy?”

Donghyuck is beside himself with laughter, snorts supplementing the silences in between. You can’t help but join in, tears pricking at your eyes.

“Whore,” you accuse, when you finally calm down.

Your foreheads are nearly touching and you’re aware friends aren’t supposed to stay at this proximity. Friends aren’t supposed to feel heartache looking at each other. Friends aren’t supposed to lean in.

A sudden rattling outside your window makes you jump away from each other.

“Is that a rat?” He asks, making a face.

The two of you get up to look outside. There’s nothing—just snow and two Italian men yelling on the floor below. But Donghyuck is on high alert, eyes scanning the perimeter and shoulders stiff.

“Something’s coming.”

You don’t like the sound of that.

Suddenly, he pulls you close and opens the window. A blast of air makes you cringe and you wonder how Hyuck is dealing with that in clothing so thin. Do spiders not feel cold? Or is it just a Donghyuck thing to be warm no matter where he is?

“We should spend some time at the ultra secure facility your dad has,” he says.

“What? Why?”

“I think someone has a grudge against you.”

You hold onto him as he climbs to the roof of your apartment building.

“They’re not gonna- They’re not gonna blow up this place, right?”

“They’re probably just after you,” he responds, eyes still on the horizon.

The sudden seriousness in him makes you feel chilly.

“The guy who was tailing you the other day, he was mostly just figuring out your routine. I thought your dad was planning an elaborate surprise party for you but his vibes were so off.”

“Wait, so this radioactive spider gave you a functional vibe checker too?”

“Yes, I am literally better than anyone you know. You don’t have to tell me you feel blessed, I already know.”

You roll your eyes. Even if he looks that serious, no word of his ever will be. 

You're about to open your mouth when a strange whirring fills the air, making you step closer to Hyuck. Why didn't you have a radioactive lion bite you or something? You could’ve been the queen of the concrete jungle. You're definitely making your next project a cool weapon. 

Donghyuck reacts before your eyes can catch the source of the disturbance. He slings a web opposite the direction you’re facing before pushing you down to the floor.

“Is that a man with a chainsaw arm?” You screech before squinting to see more clearly. “Holy shit, that’s kinda cool.”

You can finally see the perpetrator—a large bearded man with a noticeable scar across his pudgy nose, and most importantly, you see the chainsaw arm from which the loud whirring emanates. You really don’t think spiders can win against lawnmowers.

Donghyuck, however, is always ready to prove you wrong. A shot from his web -linger jams the chainsaw first.

“That buys us ninety seconds,” he tells you before shooting more webs at the man’s feet to root him.

Another shot at the man’s face makes him grunt in annoyance and Donghyuck takes the opportunity to drop a kick at the back of his knees, making him fall to the ground.

“Okay, big guy,” Donghyuck starts when he’s immediately met with a punch from the man’s left hand.

It makes you cringe, the blood running from his nose more so but he recovers quickly. He glances at you and signals a thumbs up.

“Focus on the guy,” you yell, exasperated.

“Right!” He yells back.

Donghyuck twists the guy’s chainsaw arm back and sticks it to the ground right when it breaks free, denying the man movement. You’ve gotta say, Donghyuck fights smarter and less flashy than you thought he would. 

“Who’re you working for and can you please turn yourself in? It’s really cold and I forgot my suit,” Donghyuck tells him.

The man snorts. “It’s a kid. It’s a fucking kid. I’ve got a daughter your age.”

“Sorry, I’m not interested. I’m sure she’s lovely but I have someone I like.”

The man groans. “It’s an annoying kid,” he corrects.

“Just tell me what’s going on,” Donghyuck presses.

“And I just want my money.”

“I’m not letting you hurt my friend,” he says, voice low.

“Look, I didn’t know the target was a little girl.”

“I’m an adult!” You yell to clarify.

The man looks conflicted, eyebrows furrowing into frustration.

“Christmas,” he says finally. “He wants to kidnap the daughter and get some money from the father. Not sure about the exact details. This guy is a newbie anyway.”

“Thanks!” Hyuck says brightly. “I’ll tell the police to shorten your sentence. Also, cool arm by the way.”

The man rolls his eyes. “Punk. You’re lucky I’m retiring soon.”

“I knew this guy would be cool, I didn’t sense bloodlust,” Donghyuck tells you, grinning. 

After the ordeal is over and Donghyuck has dropped the man in front of the police station, you can get no word in against staying at your dad’s security locker. Donghyuck won’t listen.

“Hyuck, I know you think it’s inconvenient but what am I supposed to tell my dad?”

“Anything! You just have to be safe till I find this guy.”

“I’ll be fine!”

“No! You won’t!” He sounds genuinely frustrated for once. “You do things before you think—it’s stressing me out.”

You frown. “I… I’m sorry, Hyuck. I just- If I make myself a weapon, am I good? I- I really don’t want to be stuck in a cold, steel room.”

He pauses to think before sighing.

“I’m not gonna say sorry because it feels weird in my mouth but… fine. You can just stay with me. Like within five feet at all times.”

“Jeez, do you want me to sit on your lap while we’re at it?”

Why would you say that? God is certainly frowning upon you.

Donghyuck doesn’t respond, eyes looking directly into yours and a flush shoots up to your neck and face.

“I was kidding. I was kidding! Obviously.”

It makes Donghyuck laugh, finally, albeit it’s a small and short one. It makes you remember Jaemin’s words. He’s just a boy. He shouldn’t be holding the thread an entire city’s peace hangs onto.

“It’s gonna be okay,” you say. “There’s so many other superheroes if this guy proves to be tough.”

He laughs. “I appreciate your attempt at comforting people, sunflower.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad!”

“I just want you to be safe. You’re an idiot so- you’re just accident-prone.”

Your cheeks are hot and you don’t know what to call this feeling. You wish you were closer, even if it was by a few more centimeters. 

“I’ll be fine,” you say finally, almost indignant. “If you underestimate me again, I’m going to make you wear a maid outfit over the suit.”

He blinks before a grin spreads across his face. You love it when you make him smile. Surely, there’s a name for this feeling?

“Alright, princess, let’s get this rat bastard dealt with then. It’s your first mission.”

“I won’t mess up, sir!” You salute, breaking into laughter and suddenly December is warmer and louder.

“Really? On the birthday of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ? It’s like he died for nothing, dude.”

Donghyuck looks at the man in black disapprovingly. 

This guy did not prove to be tough. Life is full of disappointments like that. It wasn’t that hard to find him, considering he was on your company-owned building’s helipad and looking like an adult emo, embarrassing even you. He has his henchmen with him, who are better dressed in formal suits and some funky patterned ties.

“You’re Spiderman,” the man snarls. 

“And I’m (name)!” You introduce yourself.

“I don’t really care. Men! Take care of the little girl.”

You place your hands on your hip. “You are so rude! Get him, Spidey.”

“Yeah, don’t be mean to my…uh, sugar mommy!” He points an accusatory finger at the guy.

The man is a little disappointing considering you spent an evening researching all the cool villains Spiderman has fought before. This guy just looks like a rat.

You blink.

On closer inspection, he looks uncannily like a rat. 

“Are you like a rat hybrid?” Donghyuck asks, scratching the back of his head. He’s in his suit but even through the mask, his confusion is obvious.

“You have no idea what this trashy billionaire does to his workers,” he growls. “And you’re judging me?”

“Let me guess, you fell into some weird radioactive stuff? You guys have got to stop falling into stuff! Follow some workplace safety guidelines for the love of Jesus,” Donghyuck complains.

The man turns red in the face. Not a humor kind of guy, you guess.

“Look, billionaires are trashy—except Tony Stark—and no offense, (name).” Donghyuck begins.

“None taken.” You shrug.

“But you’ve really got to plan stuff out before you do things. You don’t think cooler villains than you have tried this exact same thing? No offense.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not having a kid lecture me.”

“I’m not a kid!” he retorts quickly.

Instead of a verbal response, you’re met with a net shot right at you, tangling you in ropes as you fall backwards. You kind of expected this. You’ve been kidnapped before. Granted Thor was visiting Earth and it ended up being ten minutes of sitting in a van before getting saved. You also got a sweet autograph out of it.

The rat man—it’s a really inappropriate time to laugh at names—is faster than he looks, pinning Donghyuck down all of a sudden.

However, you’ve come prepared. Your little science project took only two days to make and it’s a mini laser shooter you made with stolen equipment from the company’s R&D department. Not as cool as you wanted, yes, but it serves its purpose. First, you need to have Hyuck distract them.

“Shouldn’t you be more worried about your damsel in distress?” The villain laughs, and Donghyuck shakes his head. How long did the guy practice to make it sound evil?

“First of all, that’s not a damsel in distress. If anything, she’s a rather distressing damsel.”

The villain looks unimpressed.

“Second of all, you should really look out for the Stark drones on your left.”

The man spins to his left, on high alert, and it creates an opening. Donghyuck shoots a web right at his face before landing a clean kick to his stomach. He gets in another sweep at the legs, making his opponent fall to the ground with a miserable thud and Donghyuck isn’t looking for praise, but he really hopes you’re absorbing how cool he is.

“I can’t believe you fell for it, dude! Are you new?” He laughs. In this moment, Donghyuck decides that he would make a great supervillain even if the laugh was a bit on the boyish side. He can work on it.

“Shut up,” the man snarls.

“You know, I hear that a lot.”

The henchmen charge in first and it’s an easy bunch for Donghyuck to handle. A guy with a machete, a guy with a gun, a guy with a—is that a laser beam? Hyuck dodges just in time to kick the guy in the face. Most of them are incapacitated after getting stuck by his web shots. He hopes he doesn’t get a web block any time soon.

A thin arrow pierces his left bicep, making him cry out in pain. 

“It’s poison!” The rat man laughs, a crossbow in hand.

“Seriously?” Donghyuck complains.

Before he can make a move, the villain yelps and drops the crossbow. He turns to see you gesturing a thumbs up with a huge grin, the ropes piling around you. Why are you sitting there casually? He thinks. 

“I just want the girl,” the man snarls, holding his hand. Looks like you got a finger or two. Ouch. 

“What did she do to you?” Donghyuck asks, frustrated. “Just take it up with the dad, you wimp.”

“I will not stand for it. If I take over the lab, the whole city will learn the wonders of genetic modifications.”

“There it is, you selfish plan. It’s like you don’t care about defeating billionaires anymore,” Donghyuck huffs.

“The whole city will be serving me as creatures superior to mankind. You see, rat genes—”

“You’re…telling me… you want to turn the whole of New York into rat people? Because you became one? Not to sound insensitive but isn’t that a bit extreme?”

“Of course, a little bas—”

Donghyuck throws a hard punch at the guy’s face, making him stumble backwards.

“You…”

The man passes out.

“Sorry, what? Were you talking? I genuinely thought it was a ‘punch you in the face’ kind of moment.” Donghyuck cups his ear.

He’s out cold.

“We did it, Hyuck!” You run over to him, jumping onto him to give him a tight hug.

“Whoa! I’m just glad I didn’t get a scratch on my face before tonight’s party.”

Your smile drops. “Wait, he said it was poison.”

You gently take his arm to inspect. He pulls away.

“I’ve dealt with poison before, you know? I still can’t believe it was a rat. What’s next, a lizard?”

You chuckle. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah, also, I’m swinging down so the press can get my good side.”

“What?”

He grabs you by the waist and jumps off the building with no warning, his laughter the only response to your scream. Donghyuck cannot believe he resorted to jumping off a building to avoid talking about his feelings. 

You’re still clinging onto him once he lands. A horde of reporters surround the two of you in a matter of moments. You forgot just how annoying they were. 

“Spiderman, who were you fighting?”

“Will there be more threats to the Nacorp Industries in the future?”

“Are you and (name) dating?”

“(name), any plans to take over the company?”

Donghuck clears his throat and an immediate silence follows.

“I- I was just clearing my throat,” he clarifies.

“Real smooth,” you snort.

“Why don’t you try answering, sunflower?” he whispers through his teeth.

A commotion ensues once again, questions flooding your ears and you swear you’ve never heard this many words at once before.

“Oh! I see Cat!” Donghyuck grabs your hand and makes his way through the crowd.

“Ooh, it’s Spiderman,” the pretty woman, who you assume is Cat, begins in a smooth voice. “What tidbit can we get from you today? You know the randomest fact boosts my salary so go ahead.”

She leans in to whisper the last part.

“Sicheng! Roll the cameras,” she instructs.

The cameraman, who looks terribly sleep deprived but still pretty, hums in response before signaling a go.

“Good afternoon, citizens. We have Spiderman here today with the lovely Ms (name) after they thwarted the attack by an anomaly at Nacorp Tower.”

“She knows me?” You whisper, a hot flush rising at the idea of someone as attractive knowing you.

“You’re, like, famous,” Donghyuck whispers back, clicking his tongue.

“I heard workers are often suffering at work sites but I have also heard that Nacorp CEO has made the decision to install AI worker suits that avoid hazards. Do you think this is a good idea, (name)?”

“Well, we have been working on it for a while and testing results are great! Like over a ninety-nine percent chance of success, and that is so cool. The demo will be out soon.”

Your bright smile makes everyone around smile instinctively.

“And Spiderman, this has been a hot question for a while now.”

She pauses to smile.

“What is your Zodiac sign?”

“Uh… Gemini?”

“Spiderman is a Gemini! You heard it first from Cat at the Daily Bugle, folks,” the reporter announces with a dazzling smile. 

“You two can go play in the snow now, the cameras are off,” she informs you before pulling Sicheng off the streets, “Have fun!”

Of course, you weren’t about to have a snowball fight in the middle of Times Square. So you return to your apartment—you’re getting used to the swinging now though Donghyuck still thinks his windpipe has suffered permanent damage.

“No, no, no, (name), this suit is skintight!”

A girlish scream follows as you manage to pull his suit back and shove a snowball inside, the evilest laugh he’s ever heard ringing through the empty roof. You were the supervillain all along—with your gorgeous laugh and stunning eyes and sincere words. He’s far off the deep end now.

God, why can’t he just spit it out? He’s in love and there’s no way to untangle himself out of these feelings. Tonight, he promises himself.

“So Spiderman swings by and says ‘Hey, nice phone, I’m gonna chuck it into space’ and now I have no phone,’ Jaemin tells Karina and Winter, both of them giggling at his miserable expression.

“I didn’t know you were a pushover, Jaemin,” Karina snorts. 

“I’m not! I was so sleepy that before I knew it, Spiderman stole my phone.”

“It’s been almost a week, get over it,” Hyuck mutters.

You chuckle at his annoyed expression.

Lana rolls her eyes beside Jaemin. You genuinely can’t believe she’s been with him all these years but you supposed she’d say the same about you and Donghyuck being best friends.

“You’ve lamented about your phone like thrice,” Yeji comments from behind the couch. “Also, (name), help me get some more beer cans. Ugh. I don’t know why you guys have this shit when wine exists.”

“I’m financially stressed, leave me alone,” Jaemin mutters, “And I agree on the wine part, actually.”

Everything is fine for now. You think you’ll stick to the lab instead of fighting—at least until you get more flexible. Epic battles are better suited to comic books, and so are grand gestures.

There’s just one thing unresolved now. Your damn feelings. The festive atmosphere is making you crave proximity, just one chance to tell him. You never knew what longing felt like before.

You follow Yeji outside the house, dragging your feet as you run a few million scenarios. God, why isn’t there AI to fix your love life? Do you have to ask the wizards for help? 

“So… Is it true you’re dating Spiderman?” Yeji asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” you answer quickly. 

“Oh good,” she sighs and you tilt your head inquisitively.

“I think you and Donghyuck should be a thing. No pressure though.” She raises her hand in a dismissive gesture.

“He’s… well… I can’t really tell what he’s thinking,” you answer honestly.

She hums. “Just tell him, then. You know him best and communication is key. God, I sound like a mother; Ryujin was right.”

You laugh and she smiles back at you. 

“Also, I bet money on you getting together with Donghyuck,” she says.

You roll your eyes. “Why did I expect that? My friends are all pretty jerks.”

She snorts. “Your choice of best friend gives it away. Oh, by the way, you don’t really have to help me with the beer, I just wanted to make sure you’re kiss kiss falling in love.”

“Huh?”

Instead of answering, she skips away with a cryptic smile. There’s another person you can’t decode but she truly is a fairy godmother.

You shiver at the cold, turning to go back inside when you hear shuffling on the roof. Donghyuck slowly lowers on a web, upside down and brown hair a mess around him.

“Renjun gave me a pep talk on the roof,” he says frankly.

You laugh. “Yeji gave me mine.”

“Our friends are really fed up with us, huh?”

“Are you- uh- are you sure you should be doing this in public?” You look around before stepping in close.

“No one’s getting out in two degree temperature, stupid.”

You don’t realize how close you stepped in till your noses touch and an instant flush floods Donghyuck’s face. Your heart beats so fast and for a moment, you think you can hear his. (It’s even faster than yours.)

You press your lips against his without further thought. The action, however, makes him let go of the web and faceplants onto the snow-covered ground. You hold in your laughter as he simply lies on his stomach there, his ears growing increasingly red.

He gets up, nose and cheeks all red.

“Good evening, Rudolph.” You giggle, unable to hold it in.

“Look, I tripped over Chenle and faceplanted onto a bowl of chili, okay? Who brought a bowl of chili to a Christmas party?” He complains, dusting the snow off.

You laugh, the warmth reaching your stomach.

“You know, we just kissed, right?” You mumble, starting to feel embarrassed.

There’s a silence and you’re not sure how to face him now. How did your confidence drain so easily? Your mother said you’d never run out of obnoxiousness—and she said the same thing about Hyuck. (“So you two better stick together, darling.”)

“Hyuck- okay, I’m sorry- that was uncalled for- I- I- just—”

Your words dissolve in your mouth when his lips meet yours.

“I- I- just- wow, I don’t- god, you made me so mad! Why did you go silent all of a sudden? I—”

He plants his lips on yours again.

“—you asshole… I swear—”

“(name). You’re rambling. Just shut up and kiss me.” He smiles against your mouth and you can’t help it either.

“You think it was the right thing to do?” You ask, peering down at Donghyuck on your lap.

“What was?”

“Rat man wasn’t exactly wrong. There are working hazards.”

“He was the same kind of wrong, just a different perspective. Turning NYC into rats is a bit much.”

You laugh. 

“Are you gonna get up any time soon?”

“I just fought a weird lizard man trying to turn New York into lizard people, give me a break,” he groans, burying his face against your side.

“I can’t believe you almost died again,” you say distastefully. 

“All’s well that ends well,” he says, shrugging.

“But I’m a new hell every time~” You sing.

He gives you the blankest expression he can muster.

“Okay, fine, but if we’re not singing Taylor Swift, we’re not singing Justin Bieber either.”

“Ugh, fine, Mariah Carey it is. She’s like my mom anyway.”

“You saved her once and your voice cracked when you spoke to her.”

“Never happened. Stop lying, (name).”

“Your cheeks are red.”

“They are not.”

“Like my favorite album.”

“Ugh.”

“And my favorite superhero’s suit color.”

A soft laugh erupts from him as he looks down and back at you. Gosh, he’s pretty. You slip your hand into his and he gives it a squeeze.

“My favorite superhero's Iron Man, by the way,” you say, a cheeky grin accompanying.

“Shut up, you love me.”

[jayflrt]

so here's wildest dreams by viastro (i suggest her whole mlist tbh), personal sandman by kdysim, mammoth pansy aftermath by spookybias..... if you read tbz then i can make a longer list... the midnight shift and the apple of my eye and i'll send all my loving to you by sehunniepotwrites, the lovepuffcore collab, your eyes tell by yeonjuncore, balenciaga hoodie and the end of the world by luvm4rk anddddddddddd that's it so far, i can compile more if you'd like !!! (esp if you need tbz fics, i got plenty of recs on that)

AHHH THANK YOU FOR ALL THE RECS and i do read tbz !!! i have a tbz blog too 🥰🥰 also omfg i forgot to add the luvpuffcore collab but i’m so excited to read cat moon and lana’s works ♡ and AHH I ADORE NIKKI i still have to finish her olympian johnny series 🥲 but thank you so much for compiling this list for me !! i’m so excited to look through them 🥰💗

[ijhyo]

Hiii!! I really like yours and your moots' writing and I think it would be fun if you guys did something like this ? https://luvdsc.tumblr.com/post/674959738828718080/%F0%9D%94%AF%F0%9D%94%A2%F0%9D%94%AD%F0%9D%94%B2%F0%9D%94%B1%F0%9D%94%9E%F0%9D%94%B1%F0%9D%94%A6%F0%9D%94%AC%F0%9D%94%AB-a-luvpuffcore-collab

I'm sending this to a bunch of my favourite blogs so please don't be scared into thinking this is a copypasta 😭😭 love you!!

aw thank uuu 🫂🫂 r u saying u want us to do a collab event thing too?? that would be fun actually

um um um idk which moots ur talking about specifically or if it doesn't matter but its not a bad idea 🤔

[junityy]

Hi Liz ☺️ it's been awhile since you've posted anything so I thought maybe this would boost your motivation? I really and truly loved your yeonjun fic and I can't wait to read your wips!!!!! But I think maybe this would be a cool idea for you and your moots? https://luvdsc.tumblr.com/post/674959738828718080/%F0%9D%94%AF%F0%9D%94%A2%F0%9D%94%AD%F0%9D%94%B2%F0%9D%94%B1%F0%9D%94%9E%F0%9D%94%B1%F0%9D%94%A6%F0%9D%94%AC%F0%9D%94%AB-a-luvpuffcore-collab

I'm sending this to a bunch of my favourite blogs so please don't be scared into thinking this is a copypasta 💗💗💗

hi nonnie, thank you for loving my writings <33 and i'll look into it, ty!! :))

[iyeonjuni]

Hi Cici! I'm such a big fan of your writing and I think it would be so cool if you and your moots'did something like this? https://luvdsc.tumblr.com/post/674959738828718080/%F0%9D%94%AF%F0%9D%94%A2%F0%9D%94%AD%F0%9D%94%B2%F0%9D%94%B1%F0%9D%94%9E%F0%9D%94%B1%F0%9D%94%A6%F0%9D%94%AC%F0%9D%94%AB-a-luvpuffcore-collab

I'm sending this to a bunch of my favourite blogs so please don't be scared into thinking this is a copypasta 💔

AAA thank you for loving my writing!! this sounds super fun actually and definitely considering it!!

[luvdsc]

TIFU by getting hit by a car over labubus that i was trying to get for the girl i like.

a broken arm is temporary. labubus (and winning your affection) are forever.

pairing :: lee donghyuck x reader genre :: comedy, fluff ⋮ friends to lovers au word count :: 4,751 words warnings :: haechan gets hit by a car but it's not graphic playlist :: the cutest pair (regina song) ⋆ buy me presents (sabrina carpenter) ⋆ buzz (niki) ⋆ soft spot (keshi) ⋆ everything i want (beabadoobee) author’s note :: happy new year, honey bees !!! here's another f2l fic, like is anyone surprised at this point? happy 4 year friendversary (plus 4 days) to moon and me, it'll be 5 years on april fool's with lana, and luvdsc officially turns 6 on the 8th !! ily all sm and thank you so so much for all the support and love these past 6 years, honey bees ᥫ᭡ ↳ part of a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collaboration series.

i. if you were a wise man, (you wouldn’t put your life on the line for bug eyed dolls)

r/TIFU

u/ifyouseekamy-yn3435 • 1d

TIFU by getting hit by a car over labubus that I was trying to get for the girl I like

I (24M) was trying to rush to be first in line at the Popmart grand opening and arrived at 11 PM the night before. The girl I like is really into Labubu and Dimoo, and the new store will be fully stocked, first come first serve. I got in line and was fifth in waiting to get into the store. But before that, I had to sit in my car until midnight when people started lining up outside the mall entrance. It got too rowdy though, so the security guard yelled for everyone to go back to the parking structure. Obviously, people slowly inched their way back to the entrance again after pretending to leave, so I made sure to nab a spot by hiding in the bushes closest to the mall doors. Finally at 8 AM, they let us inside and I sprinted into the mall past almost everyone else. I secured the goods (have a seat set, exciting macaron set, wings of fortune, happy halloween party, fall in wild, flip with me) and happily made it out. This was going to be the best Christmas present for the girl I like, and therefore increase my chances of her saying yes to a date. But there was someone driving at way more than 15mph in the mall parking lot and with no care for stop signs and pedestrian walkways. So they ran over a few orange cones before coming to a stop after hitting the biggest speed bump aka me. Now I’m left with a broken arm, a couple bruised ribs, and hopped up on pain meds in the hospital on Christmas day with nothing else to do except post on reddit

⥣ 2,548 ⥥ 280 Comments

farts-and-minecrafts205 • 16h did you secure the goods tho ??? are they ok ??

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.3k ⥥

ifyouseekamy-yn3435 • 13h Yes right when I saw the car coming, I made sure to lovingly cradle the labubus in my arms. I didn’t let them hit the ground even after I was in the fetal position in the middle of the parking lot and my ribs acted like their airbags ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.7k ⥥

smoothkriminal423 • 12h thank god the resale prices would go down if they got scratched

➥ Reply ⥣ 949 ⥥

ifyouseekamy-yn3435  • 3h gtfo of here fake ass mj stan ➥ Reply ⥣ 452 ⥥

T1NF01LH4T323 • 1h when you got hit, did you go hee hee or goofy’s chuckle ➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

0rgasm-d0n0r813  • 9h can I have the labubus she doesn’t want

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.4k ⥥

pissrevolver1122 • 3h reselling labubus here!!! pm for prices 

➥ Reply ⥣ 331 ⥥

ii. baby you would drop, every other ho ho ho, and put me on top

Lee Donghyuck is down bad.

Actually, let’s circle back to that. He is utterly, horrifically, astronomically down bad. There is no other way to describe the situation unfolding in front of him right now because why is he letting you sit at his desk in front of his prestige, top of the art gaming set up, complete with the comfiest gaming chair, matching keyboard with rainbow lighting and teddy bear keycaps, and a personally customized Acer Predator Orion 7000 PC with a miniature arcane Jinx figurine inside it?

Meanwhile, he is seated on the edge of his bed, precariously balancing your MacBook covered in Sailor Moon and Nanami stickers on his knees and fighting for his life as he dodges attacks from Samira and Leona, quickly putting up a shield on his Lulu. Sure, it was stupid to play as Lulu when he’s in the dragon lane, but in his defense, he wanted to try a new AP setup and thought Mark would be a better support than this, what with the obscene amount of money he spent on all those Seraphine skins. If Mark had spent even half the amount of hours as the amount of dollars he blew on those skins, he would be doing better than 0:3:0 within the first five minutes of the game.

“Mark, dude, are you trying to lose on purpose or have you always been naturally gifted at sucking ass?” Donghyuck grits out between his teeth, his fingers moving across the keyboard at top speed, not even sure if his friend can hear him through his wired Apple earphones since he has so graciously let you borrow his top tier headphones, too (Maybe it’s for the better though. He has a permanent dent in his hair on the top of his head because of them).

You don’t even need the headphones. He has turned off the voice chat option for you because you didn’t need to be hearing the absolute scum that comes from the average league player anyway (Not that you would. Mark has been getting the brunt of it from the rest of the team, himself included). But he wanted to give you the full gamer experience, and you look so cute, perched at his desk and attentively scanning the map, his headphones resting on your head so nicely.

All he gets is radio silence from Mark before he sees K/DA Seraphine inching away towards the middle lane. “Are you kidding me? Y/N, can you move to my lane? Mark is too butt hurt to continue dying in the bot lane, I guess.”

“Yes, do I just follow you around?” you ask, carefully guiding your Ahri towards Haechan’s Lulu, careful to check the upper left map view to make sure no one from the enemy team is lurking around you. You stop briefly to admire her animations, her red nine tails swirling around her, making her look ethereal. “This skin is so pretty, thanks for getting it for me, Hyuck.”

“Oh, sure, anytime,” Donghyuck says as casually as possible, completely ignoring the fact that his wallet is now five hundred dollars lighter, all thanks to one Signature Immortalized Legend skin for Ahri. Even he doesn’t have that skin. But what else was he supposed to do? Not buy it for you after you mentioned liking it after he set up League of Legends on your laptop for you to try a few hours ago (nevermind the fact that he’s the one playing on your MacBook now instead)? You chose Ahri because you wanted to play a pretty champ, and of course, he was going to make sure you get the prettiest skin to go with her.

“Oh my god, did you see that?” you gasp excitedly after you hit E and the orbs from Ahri’s second skill swirl and hit Leona, effectively stealing Donghyuck’s kill. “I got her!”

“Yes, you did, congrats, that’s amazing,” Donghyuck struggles to maintain a happy tone, schooling his expression into a peaceful one with much concentration, but it’s alright. It’s perfectly fine. He’s fine. It’s not like he needed an eighth kill to get the legendary title. He can just go for Samira instead. “Can you aim at Samira and hit W please?”

You carefully follow his instructions, and Ahri’s charm move hits Samira perfectly with the heart, pulling the enemy towards your Ahri and Haechan’s Lulu. With a victorious cry, he takes out the enemy and secures the legendary title.

“You’re doing really well,” he compliments you, and your cheeks grow warm as you click at the screen, pretending to focus even more on taking down the opponent’s turret as you answer sheepishly. “Thank you, it’s really fun.”

“Maybe you can play support next time instead of Mark,” he muses, a satisfactory grin appearing on his face when the two of you finally take down the first turret of the game. “That bastard just stands around and looks pretty. He practically feeds the other team.”

He can hear faint cursing in his headphones from the bastard in question, but he ignores it, opting to focus on the sound of your giggling that makes his heart skip a beat and his cheeks take on a rosy hue.

“Mm, you really think so, Hyuck? I think it’s just all beginner’s luck right now,” you laugh softly, maneuvering Ahri around and following his champ towards the mid lane. “Plus, you’re hard carrying us.”

Your borrowed laptop almost slips off of his lap as your words register in his mind, the soft lilt in your voice making his stomach do cartwheels and somersaults that would even impress Simone Biles. Donghyuck very nearly lets out a high pitched giggle before he remembers to get a goddamn grip on himself and hastily clears his throat. “Nah, I think the jungle is doing really well, too. And you’re keeping up with us.”

“Yeah?” Your eyes light up, and he swears they’re even prettier and sparkle more than the one house that goes out all on the Christmas light decorations at the end of the street. “Maybe we can play together more then.”

He swallows hard, eyes zeroing on the screen in front of him so he wouldn’t seem as eager as he really is secretly. “Sure, that sounds great.”

“Great, it’s a date,” you say lightly, and Donghyuck immediately stops breathing and promptly drops the laptop onto the carpeted floor, his Lulu getting instantly KOed in the game while Mark swears loudly in his earphones.

ii. spend your cookie dough, dough, dough, spend it on my heart

It’s times like these that Donghyuck really has to sit and think hard about what the actual fuck he is doing with his life. It’s not like he has anything else to do anyway. He’s sitting in the nearly empty mall parking lot at 11 PM, preparing to camp out in front of the entrance just to make sure he’d be one of the first people to enter Popmart and buy all those Labubus you’ve mentioned that you’ve been wanting.

He’s tried for months now, obsessively refreshing the Popmart app on his phone and iPad in addition to refreshing the website on his computer at 10 PM sharp on Thursdays in hopes of snagging just one of them for you. He’s even made a whole account, added his credit card in for fast payments, and watched those stupid 24/7 TikTok lives from the Popmart accounts just in case they release any on there as well. All he ended up with was no Labubus and two hundred thirty dollars short because he discovered that they had a K/DA figurine collaboration and obviously, he immediately bought the whole set. 

But his prayers were answered in a convoluted way because news dropped that a new Popmart was opening nearby on December 24th, which meant it would be fully stocked with all the Labubus you want, and he’d be damned if he let this opportunity pass. It was both a curse and a blessing. What kind of corporate devil chooses their grand opening to be on Christmas Eve? So that leads to his current predicament: sitting in his car, about to brave the cold for the next 10 hours outside for some dumb dolls and fighting through the last minute Christmas shoppers during the hours after that.

Donghyuck puts on a couple more extra layers, including a giant Canada Goose jacket for good measure, and stuffs his pockets with an external battery charger, some power bars, and a water bottle. Finally, he makes peace with the fact that this is what his life has come down to, that he really is this down bad for you, and he gets out of his car, shuffling over to the entrance and standing in line with all the other men who are probably there to get Labubus for their girlfriends and wives. They all give each other the nod in solidarity, and so begins the wait.

He sits with his back against the wall, huddled up in his puffer jacket and pulling out his phone to play Wild Rift to pass the time. If one game averages between 15 - 30 minutes, then he only needs to play 20 - 40 games. That’s not so bad, he reasons with himself, tapping the screen idly while he waits for the matchmaking to complete. He can do this.

By 5 AM, there’s a large crowd of people waiting, the noise level going up and some shoving going on. He quickly steels himself and stays firmly planted in his spot. He will be getting those damn dolls, no matter what. When the security guard comes out to break up the rowdy crowd, he quickly slips behind the nearby bushes lining the mall, taking advantage of the commotion. Once again, he settles down in the dirt, hunched over and playing his game, dignity lost but his place in line still in sight. Donghyuck really hopes no one he knows sees him here.

At 8 AM, one of the Popmart store managers takes pity on the growing crowd (who returned less than an hour later after the security guard got tired of monitoring them) and opens the mall doors. He quickly pops out of the bushes, no doubt scaring a couple people but he couldn’t care less at this point, and sprints into the mall, beelining it to the figurine store and securing his spot as fifth in line. He hastily brushes off the dirt clinging to the seat of his pants and any twigs in his hair before waiting impatiently.

Finally, by 9 AM, Donghyuck has secured the goods at last, clutching onto four large bags filled with two full sets of Labubu blind boxes, two of the larger dolls, and three special plush keychains (he ignores the email notification from his bank asking if he had made this purchase). Strutting with his head held high, he would do a hair flip if his hands weren’t so occupied with carrying out half the store’s supply of Labubus. He proudly walks through the mall with his long coveted purchases, feeling even more triumphant than when he reached grandmaster in League and ranked in the top 200 for Master Yi.

Unfortunately, Lady Luck always gets to have the last laugh because Donghyuck barely makes it out the door before he finds himself lying flat across the crosswalk pavement. A loud yelp escapes from his lips as he instinctively grips onto his shopping bags, curling around them protectively as pain shoots up around his ribcage and forearm. He wants to laugh or cry or maybe do both simultaneously.

This has to be a joke. All that work, all that humiliation, just to be bested by someone’s god awful, hideous Cybertruck. He’s about to become the modern day Scrooge because all the ghosts must have come together to put up an even bigger middle finger salute to him since he just had to get hit with that fugly monstrosity to top it all off.

God damn it all, where the fuck was Edward Cullen when Donghyuck needed him the most?

The universe really didn’t want him to get those ugly dolls. He should have taken the L in defeat and read all the foreshadowing signs when he couldn’t get them every time he tried before that because now the universe is out of balance, and he had to pay for it. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction after all. Man plans, god laughs.

Jokes on the big man upstairs though because his Labubus are all still nestled safely in his arms in (hopefully) pristine condition, and they’d have to be pried from his cold, dead hands (which honestly, might be soon). Is this how Emily felt in “Devil Wears Prada” when she got hit by a taxi and all those Hermes scarves went flying (correction: floating) around her? He glances down just to see the fall in wild Labubu pendant smirking back at him mockingly, still in its perfect packaging and in his shaking clutches. He desperately wants to punch its smug little face, but his arm is unfortunately twisted in an unnatural position at the moment.

Donghyuck is knocked out of his stupor when he hears the sounds of the driver quickly clambering out from their seat, hurrying towards him and kneeling down, asking if he’s okay. Someone else is asking him if he wants them to call someone, and he faintly registers the excruciating pain in his ribs and the way he landed on his arm. Clenching his teeth, he closes his eyes before managing to croak out feebly:

“Are all the Labubus okay?”

iii. if you’re not gonna race here from the north pole to beverly hills the hospital, just to keep my stocking filled

When you wake up extremely late past noon on Christmas morning, you definitely do not expect the huge flurry of texts and missed calls on your phone. And more importantly, you most definitely do not expect to find out that Donghyuck is in the hospital. With your heart dropping to your stomach, you hastily get dressed and  grab your keys, entering the hospital address Renjun texted you into your Apple Maps as you rush to your car.

Making a quick detour to the bakery he likes, you get a couple slices of Mont Blanc for him before continuing on the route to the hospital. You haphazardly park your car before hurriedly speed walking through the automatic entrance doors, clutching tightly onto the box of baked goods as you get into the elevator and finally reach his room.

“Hyuck?” you say tentatively, knocking on the door and peering inside, relief filling you instantly when you see him seated upright in the hospital bed, awake and pouting. Along with all the balloons and flowers his friends must’ve dropped off earlier, there’s an unusually large pile of Popmart bags in the corner of his room, but you don’t question it at the moment. His heart rate spikes on the monitor, and you look at it in concern before his loud sigh brings your focus back to him.

“What took you so long?” Donghyuck huffs dramatically, trying to cross his arms over his chest as best he could with one arm in a cast. “I texted you this morning, didn’t I?”

“I just woke up like 45 minutes ago and rushed here,” you defend yourself lightly, dropping the cake box on the stand next to him, and his eyes instantly light up before he remembers that he’s supposed to be upset and turns his nose at you slightly.

“It’s 3 PM, what do you mean you just woke up? You forgot about me, didn’t you?” he huffs softly, peeking over at the cake for a split second and then resumes pouting at you, his lower lip jutting out slightly. 

“I, uh, I stayed up late, trying to catch up on my game,” you avoid eye contact, cheeks growing warmer as you try to excuse yourself, tripping over your words in haste. “There’s this Touring in Love event going on right now and I wanted to get the limited four star card for Zayne, so I had to get more game currency in the event store, not to mention, I needed to get more gems to pull on the current five star banner because I lost my pity to the Sylus card a—” 

“Is this that otome game you’re into?” Donghyuck interrupts, and your face feels like a burning furnace now.

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe it. I lost to a bunch of pixels,” he sighs a second time, flopping back against his pillows gingerly to not aggravate his bruised ribs but to also emphasize his sulkiness further. “You were too busy visiting your AI generated boyfriend in the hospital, instead of visiting  me.”

“I was asleep!” you protest lightly before picking up the cake again and holding up your peace offering, “The second I woke up and saw the texts, I drove over here. I even got you your favorite cake.”

“I sat here, cold, alone, and in pain, for hours,” he fake sniffles, unabashedly eyeing the cake for a third time before refocusing back on you.

“You’re acting like a real Rafayel right now.”

Donghyuck sulks even more. “He’s not even your favorite in the game.”

“Yes, my favorite works at the hospital, not makes the hospital work,” you tease softly, and he huffs slightly, puffing out his cheeks and making himself look even cuter (though you’re not going to tell him that and make his ego even bigger than it already is). 

“Wow, you’re bullying a gravely injured person on Christmas too. You’re cruel. I can’t even do anything, except lie here motionlessly on my deathbed,” he sighs once again, closing his eyes before opening one of them to peek at you and quickly shutting it again once he confirms he has your full undivided attention.

“Renjun texted me literally fifteen minutes ago that he just left your room, and you were asking him to bring you your iPad to do all the dailies for your games,” you deadpan, pulling the chair to the spot next to his bed and settling down in it.

“Renjun is a snitch,” he mutters, relaxing against his pillows and accepting the cake after you open the box and place it on the tray attached to his bed. He takes a bite of the sweet goodness, humming slightly in content. 

“So, your type is quiet, serious guys who work at hospitals?” Donghyuck says casually, scooping up another bite of the cake, and you nearly choke, fumbling over your words. 

“W-Well, yeah, I guess, but it’s just a game. And um, he’s quite pretty.” You clear your throat slightly giving him a mischievous smile. “Why? Are you interested?”

“In you? Yeah, I thought I made myself pretty obvious all the time,” he states matter-of-factly, almost as if he’s reading off today’s news headlines or the weather, and you choke for real this time, coughing slightly.

“Anyway,” Donghyuck continues, taking another bite of his cake after handing you a water bottle which you quickly accept and sip, calming down your throat. “Do you think you can maybe go for a Rafayel guy in the near possible future? More specifically, one minute into the future?” He gives you a small smirk, batting his eyelashes at you. “I’m also pretty enough, aren’t I? Once I’m out of this hospital gown and in my usual clothes, I’d be even prettier.”

You laugh softly, tilting your head slightly as you look at him, hiding your smile. “I guess I could be convinced. Why one minute though?”

“Because I’m about to ask you out,” he answers immediately.

Your cheeks grow exponentially warmer once again, and you swallow nervously before masking it with a confident expression, teasing him, “Then go on. Ask me out.”

Donghyuck’s cheeks turn a rosy color as the realization of what he’s about to do finally kicks in (and perhaps, the pain medication has started to wear off slightly, so the post clarity is hitting him). Once again, the monitor shows a spike in his heart rate, and he curses it internally when he sees you glancing at it with a knowing smile. It’s an even worse snitch than Renjun. He clears his throat, sitting up as straight as he possibly can in this state, “Will you, Y/N, go out with me and be the very first person to sign my cast?”

You giggle before nodding, sending him a giddy smile as your heart thumps loudly in your chest, an explicable warm feeling spreading throughout your body and kicking up butterflies in your stomach. “Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

He immediately lights up, beaming at you. “Yeah? Wanna seal it with a kiss? I would if I could.”

Another peal of laughter bubbles up in your throat, but you oblige, leaning in and pressing your lips against his gently, the faint taste of caramel lingering on his lips. The kiss is sweet and smooth, fitting for him, and the loud beeping from his heart monitor increases almost immediately, much to his chagrin. You laugh softly against his lips at the sound, making his cheeks flush even redder if possible, and give him another soft kiss before pulling away.

“We should stop before we alert the nurses,” you tease softly, and he stammers, unable to come up with a smartass response for once in his life.

Your face is still warm as you busy yourself with uncapping the sharpie pen on the table next to him and work on signing his cast, writing your name out in pretty loopy cursive and a get well soon message, dotting any i’s with cute hearts that mirror the ones in Donghyuck’s eyes as he gazes at you.

“Didn’t the guys visit you? Why didn’t they sign your cast?”

“I wanted you to be the first one. Girlfriend privileges, and all that,” he answers lightly, and your heart skips a beat at your new title. You wonder if you’ll get used to it.

“Oh, really? I’m honored.���

“You should be,” Donghyuck says with a confident nod, and you can’t help but laugh, leaning in and pressing another kiss against his cheek. His cheeks turn crimson, and you notice, prompting you to leave another soft kiss against them and causing them to become an even embarrassingly darker shade of red as he stutters slightly, rendered speechless.

Yeah, you definitely can get used to these girlfriend privileges.

.

“So you won the real life boyfriend pity with me, right?” 

“Don’t push your luck.”

iv. well i know somebody who will

r/TIFU

u/ifyouseekamy-yn3435 • 9h

(UPDATE) TIFU by getting hit by a car over labubus that I was trying to get for the girl I like

First off, let me get this straight - I am not reselling any of the Labubus so stop pming me about that. I already gave them to her.

Ok now for the actual update. She visited me at the hospital and insisted that she’d drive me home when I got discharged. She’s really nice and brought me my favorite food. She’s also been bringing me meals everyday and we’re having dates at my place until my arm is fully healed. We have another date later today and we’re gonna watch Tangled and bake cookies. She also got me into blind boxes so now I have another crippling addiction and a shelf in my room just for Dimoos. We have matching Labubus on our bags, and she dressed them up in matching outfits too. She made me install a car seat thing on my AC in my car too so now my Labubu son can sit there when I start driving again. Oh and she has a whole pc setup now to play league and a new game, Infinity Nikki and I started playing it with her too. The graphics are very pretty. I feel like a pretty princess in my full flutter storm set ଘ(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚ ⭒ Wish me luck on the upcoming banners pls I’m saving up for the lunar new year set since she said the franchise usually goes all out for it. So yeah that’s it. We’re dating now! Happy new year to everyone except zayne from love and deepspace /:

⥣ 1,606 ⥥ 273 Comments

farts-and-minecrafts205 • 9h TIFU by asking him about his date and I was stuck on the phone for three hours

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.2k ⥥

pissrevolver1122 • 8h fr OP became even more insufferable after finally scoring a date ➥ Reply ⥣ 809 ⥥

ifyouseekamy-yn3435 • 3h you're just jealous that the only affection you can get is by pretending to be a discord kitten ➥ Reply ⥣ 967 ⥥

mark-mywords-802 • 2h R U UWUKITTENBB69 ??!???! I BOUGHT U SO MANY AKALI SKINS ➥ Reply ⥣ 231 ⥥

John-Doe209 • 3h so is this a pity date or..? maybe she’s looking for a sugar daddy?

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.0k ⥥

ifyouseekamy-yn3435 • 1h SHUT UP SHE LOVES ME ➥ Reply ⥣ ⥥ -204

demure-and-mindfull-of-nanami626 • 2h what did zayne do to you???

➥ Reply ⥣ 526 ⥥ 

ifyouseekamy-yn3435 • 1h I got hit by a car for you and I still have to compete with that dude 😃 ➥ Reply ⥣ 153 ⥥ 

[luvdsc]

Revenge is best served cold—or on fire. Literally.

USER u/justgirlythings-arson119 ( @choerrypuffs ) POSTED ON january 3, 2025 SONG is it new years yet? by sabrina carpenter

READ ORIGINAL POST HERE.

A broken arm is temporary. Labubus (and winning your affection) are forever.

USER u/ifyouseekamy-yn3435 ( @luvdsc ) POSTED ON january 5, 2025 SONG buy me presents by sabrina carpenter

READ ORIGINAL POST HERE.

“I would let the owner stuff my stocking in exchange for the monte blanc recipe.”

“… You promise?”

USER u/YeastMode6969 ( @wincore ) POSTED ON january 2, 2024 SONG santa doesn’t know you like i do by sabrina carpenter

READ ORIGINAL POST HERE.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐒, 𝐋𝐔𝐕𝐃𝐒𝐂, & 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 - 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓.

[luvdsc]

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ⋅ ˚₊‧ 𐙚

ALBUM reputation ⋮ luvpuffcore collaboration

SONG look what you made me do by taylor swift

LYRICS cinderella, she’s all that, the princess diaries, the duff: what do these movies all have in common? answer: a makeover! your life is basically a rom com minus the romance part, but that minor detail will easily be fixed if you can somehow manifest your own modern day fairy godmother. cue your university’s resident it boy: na jaemin, armed with a shiny credit card and mascara wand. the two of you strike up a deal: you’ll be his tutor for economics if he’ll be your tutor for fashion, relationships, and everything in between. so if the glass slipper (read: madewell jeans) doesn’t fit… maybe some spandex will help? or alternatively, pretty girls rule the world, and you find out that he’s (not) all that.

RELEASE DATE december 13, 2024

□ STOP. ▹ PLAY.

[choerrypuffs]

the starlet.

pairing: bookshop owner!jaemin x actress!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 15.3k

synopsis: you aren’t cruel enough to subject him to a life like yours, but you’re too selfish to let him go.

author’s note: hi this is part of the luvpuffcore 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 collab! i’m sorry that the release date was delayed multiple times but i hope you guys enjoy it <333 collabing with cat and moon is always so fun, and here’s to many more luvpuffcore collabs that we may or may not finish on time 🥂

warning(s): anxiety, implied drug abuse, generally unhealthy lifestyle habits, suggestive makeout scene, implied sex

playlist: drew barrymore by sza ― endlessly by alina baraz ― dancing with our hands tied by taylor swift ― i miss you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

additional: very loosely based off the movie notting hill and also the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha bc i am incapable of writing a fic that doesn’t have elements of a romcom and/or kdrama in it 🤧 

📼 SIDE A: DEEP BLUE, BUT YOU PAINTED ME GOLDEN

You’ve always loathed the airport.

The sound of suitcases being rolled around on the tile floor, the muffled jingle of the PA system constantly being in use, babies crying, metal detectors beeping, frustrated voices that are either lost or had their flights canceled, and worst of all―

“Y/N! Look over here!”

Ducking your head, you keep your eyes trained on your feet as your security team pushes against the large crowd of people. Your name is being shouted, cameras are flashing in every direction you look, there are outstretched arms with cell phones being shoved in your face, hands grabbing at your clothes, and you feel like you’re slowly being torn limb from limb. You’re jostled so hard that your sunglasses are almost knocked off your face.

The sea of people follow you all the way outside, gathering around your car, so that it’s even harder for you to leave and they can take more pictures. A security guard puts his hand on the back of your head as he gently pushes it down so it doesn’t hit the roof of the car. The other guards form a human wall around you in order for you to climb inside safely without having upskirt photos taken.

You want to just wear sweatpants, but then you’ll end up on Cosmopolitan’s Top 10 Celebrities with the Worst Airport Fashion list.

Once you’re in the car, the security closes the door behind you before walking over and clearing out the crowd so that the driver can leave. Closing your eyes and leaning your head against the window, you relish in the only moment of rest you’ve gotten in about six months. You’ve just returned from Stockholm after filming a top secret role in an upcoming Marvel film, and you’re pretty sure you haven’t had a good night’s sleep since you were cast. Not that you ever really get a good night’s sleep, but especially so now.

As if your every move isn’t already scrutinized by the media, now you have to deal with the extra attention since the news has broken. Your mind can’t ever seem to stop, always wondering how the tabloids were going to twist your every little action to their liking―whether it be picking apart your clothes and/or appearance, discussing your dating rumors with a man you’ve never even met, asking you intrusive questions and waiting for an outburst so they can paint you as the villain, or just catching anything and everything you do on camera in order to find a flaw.

At this point, you’re pretty sure you exist through the media. You live more of your life in front of a camera than off, so you have no semblance of who you are in actual reality anymore.

Somin, your manager, lets out a sigh of relief once you’re all situated and driving away. She’s tapping away at her phone as usual, probably negotiating eight different movie deals for you at once. Somin has been your manager since the beginning of your career, and you owe a great deal of your success to her, but you wish she would just take a moment to breathe. Now that you’re a rising star, some would even say on your way to becoming an A-lister, she is working double time to make sure you don’t lose your momentum. However, shooting eight movies a year plus TV deals plus all the promotions, magazine covers, photoshoots, press tours, etc. that come with it seems a bit overkill. Of course, you don’t have the heart to say it since she’s stuck with you through thick and thin. You suppose there’s nothing wrong with the piles and piles of money you’ll end up with. It’s the only good thing about your job these days.

As if on cue, Somin speaks up, “Don’t forget about your flight tomorrow. We’re leaving at 5 AM, so make sure you’re ready.”

You did forget. Completely.

“What flight?”

Somin sighs, shaking her head. “You’re flying to England, remember? To film the Netflix series? With Jaehyun?”

Ah, that’s right.

You signed with Netflix a while ago to do a series called Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha, which follows a prickly, city girl dentist that moves to a small seaside town to start her own practice while also dealing with a budding romance between herself and the local handsome handyman.

You’re co-starring alongside Jeong Jaehyun, a fellow actor that you’ve worked with before when the two of you were newbies. You had supporting roles playing a couple in an indie film, and since then, you’ve both had your big break and have remained friendly with each other, keeping in contact. You wouldn’t particularly consider him a close friend, but he’s the only thing you have that resembles anything close to a friend in this industry.

You’re a bit reluctant to film a romance series with Jaehyun, since you’re certain that it will spark dating rumors. However, it does make you feel a little better that it’s with someone you’re comfortable with, so the two of you can just laugh about it together.

“Right,” you say, nearly forgetting to respond to Somin. “That flight. Where exactly in England are we going?”

Somin shrugs. “I can’t remember the name, it’s some tiny village. Quiet, great view, perfect for that romantic ‘idyllic small town by the sea’ that you only see in movies and shows vibe. Its population is barely in the thousands, but the good thing is that most of the people there are old fishermen so they probably won’t recognize you. ”

You’re actually looking forward to this trip more and more now. Maybe, for once, you won’t be trapped in a hotel room and will be able to actually enjoy the scenery of this supposedly idyllic seaside town.

“But don’t get too excited because the place will probably be swarming with paparazzi once they find out where you are,” she continues.

You sigh, completely deflating. Now you feel guilty towards the locals that will have to deal with the chaos.

Somin leans forward and places a hand on your shoulder. “I know you’re tired, Y/N. This is your last shoot for a couple months. Just get through the promos afterwards and then you’ll get a break.”

You perk up only slightly, happy that you’re finally getting some time off―though it’s not like you’ll be able to enjoy it that much. You’ll just be cooped up in your bare mansion, trapped with your thoughts. You could try to sleep the whole time, hibernate like a bear, but your insomnia drives a huge wedge into that plan. You could also visit your parents, but you don’t particularly want to let them see how badly your lifestyle and mental health have tanked.

And you definitely can’t travel or even simply go out and have a nice lunch, lest you create a media frenzy that’ll descend upon you like a pack of hungry wolves the moment you step outside.

“Okay,” you nod, plastering on a fake smile. You know Somin is worried about you. She would never give you such a long break, without even a photoshoot or two dispersed in there, if she didn’t think something was seriously wrong.

She seems satisfied enough with your half-assed performance and leans back, attention turning on her phone again. You decide to scroll through your phone as well, though you usually avoid it at all costs unless it’s for work. You open Instagram, which is Mistake Number One.

Your feed is instantly bombarded with various tabloid accounts posting pictures of you edited beside Lee Haechan (who you have never met), a new actor that’s been exploding in popularity recently.

You don’t even need to click on the picture to know exactly what the headline is, locking your phone and tossing it aside.

Letting out a sigh, you close your eyes and wait for the sleep that never comes.

When you land in England, there’s not nearly as much chaos as you expect there to be. Of course, paparazzi trail you no matter where you go, but it’s not a giant crowd like the other day. You’re able to leave the airport with relative ease, much to your security detail’s delight. You suppose the news of your Marvel role overshadowed everything else, so the shooting of your Netflix series was completely forgotten about.

Once you’re in the car, the driver informs you that it’s about a 3 hour drive to the marina, where you’ll then have to take a 45-minute ferry ride, as that is the only way to get in or out of the town.

“Jesus, where is this place? The North Sentinel Island?” Somin irritably mutters under her breath. She’s still grumpy from the early flight.

The driver explains that many people head over there to settle down and start families due to how peaceful and tight-knit the community is. After their children grow up and go off to begin their own careers, a lot of the elderly choose to spend their retirement there as well.

“All in all, it’s just a great place to live, visit, or even just pass by,” the driver says cheerfully. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll fall in love with it and not want to leave.”

Somin snorts but doesn’t say anything.

You, on the other hand, don’t particularly mind it. You’re actually slightly envious of the bond that the people of the town must have built with each other over the years. You’ve always wanted to grow up in a small community like that, where you’re treated like a family member by everyone and all the aunties always say that you’re too skinny and try to feed you.

No wonder why the production team chose this town to be the filming location for a series called Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha.

The trip is quite long though, and by the time you arrive, the sun is already starting to set. You go in and out of sleep on the ferry ride, the lulling of the waves making you drowsy, but it’s the kind of light sleep that makes you even more tired when you wake up.

When the ferry pulls into the dock, there’s another car waiting for you. There’s another short, 10-minute drive to the town, where the car is then promptly swarmed by a horde of people. You notice a huge welcome banner with your name plastered across it, and you also figure out that the people surrounding you aren’t paparazzi, rather, they’re locals. Through the window, you see men and women, all aged between mid-forties to sixties, trying to peer into the car. Some of them are holding tupperwares of homemade food. You hear distant music on the opposite side of the car, and you realize that the local high school marching band is here too.

“This is not what we discussed,” Somin is yelling, already on the phone with someone. Most like a production staff member. “You said that the locals would be under control. Wha―I don’t care if the mayor wants a picture with her! It could be God Himself, and I still wouldn’t care! Clear these people out now.”

She argues some more before angrily hanging up, letting out a loud sigh and turning to you to explain the situation. “Apparently, the locals are excited because none of them have ever seen a celebrity before. They wanted to throw you a welcome party, and the mayor wants a picture of him giving you the keys to the city or some shit. These people probably don’t even know who you are.”

Though she sounds a bit harsh, Somin is just weathered to starstruck people that are excited to see you. It happens everywhere you go, so her first order of business is always crowd control. She’s gotten used to icing out her emotions. And while you are exhausted from the trip, you feel a bit guilty for ignoring them since they did give you such a grand welcome.

“I don’t mind―” You start.

“No,” Somin interrupts, “we’re going to keep this as discreet as possible. It was a stroke of luck that the Marvel role distracted everyone. If the news breaks out about this, then it’s just another migraine for me to deal with. Give me your hat.”

“What?” You blink.

But she doesn’t wait for you, reaching over and snatching your black baseball cap off your head. She then tucks her hair into the cap, since her hair color is different than yours, before putting it on her head. Reaching over into her purse, she fishes out her black face mask and slips that on as well.

“What are you doing?” you ask, furrowing your brows.

“Pretending to be you,” Somin answers briskly, shrugging off her fluffy blue sherpa jacket and handing it to you. “Wear that and put the hood up.”

“We don’t look anything alike,” you point out, though you put on the sherpa and tug the hood up anyway.

“Hence the hat and mask,” she replies, “Don’t worry. I’m just gonna pretend to be like you long enough for you to get away and then once they realize I’m not you, I’ll just be like, ‘Oh, I’m just the manager. It’s all just a big misunderstanding, and Y/N is already at her hotel resting. Sorry! Maybe next time!’ but there is no next time.”

You make a mental note to take a picture with the mayor before you leave.

Somin makes sure the driver knows the address of your hotel before she and your security team exit the car. The moment the door is opened, you hear the crowd get rowdier and the band starts playing louder. You keep your head lowered, so that no one will notice you, but you don’t have to worry because the attention is solely focused on Somin. Once she’s out and has effectively gotten the crowd to follow her, the car drives away. As you sit alone, you look out the window and take in the view of the town.

If there was a place that perfectly encapsulates that picture-perfect, sleepy, quiet town that only seems real in movies, it would be this place. The buildings all look like they came straight out of a cottagecore Pinterest board, like a fairy tale animation brought to life. You’re reminded of Belle’s town in Beauty and the Beast, except it’s by the seaside. In fact, you feel quite out of place in a car, since you feel like it disrupts the fantasy. You’re pretty sure everything in this town is within walking distance anyways.

Not that you’ll be able to freely walk around.

The driver informs you that you’re about to arrive, and you see that he’s pulling up to a quaint bed and breakfast. It’s painted a beautiful robin blue, looking like a house that belongs to a fairy. Unfortunately, the loveliness of it all is instantly shattered when you notice a couple of people with cameras lurking around the entrance. You’re not sure if it’s the local news or if they’re just some extremely dedicated paparazzi, but you know you can’t let them see you.

You’re frantically glancing around for a place to take refuge in when you notice a place right across from the bed and breakfast. You can tell that it was previously a brilliant white building, but over time due to weather, it’s faded to more of a dull cream. You actually think the cream color suits it a lot better; it’s a subtle, warm presence that doesn’t immediately catch your eye but instantly draws you in once you’ve seen it. There’s a sign hanging, and you can tell by the rusted chain holding the sign up that it's worn down, but someone has faithfully painted the words back on again, reading OASIS BOOKS in pink loopy cursive.

With such a fitting name, you decide that it will be your place of refuge for now. You shoot a quick text to Somin about the change of plans and inform the driver of your detour, and he drops you off at the bookstore with little fuss. Keeping your head down and trying to cover more of your face with your hood, you scramble inside and close the door behind you in one swift swing, the bell attached to it jingling loudly.

The inside of the bookstore, again, feels like it came straight from a storybook. The soft lighting creates a warm glow throughout the room, like the hue from a candle flame. The temperature inside is quite cozy as well, what you imagine your insides feel like after a nice mug of hot chocolate, which is a lovely reprieve from the chilly weather outside. Even the smell of the store feels homey, a mixture of old books, coffee, and vanilla.

As you look around, there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here, much to your relief. It’s so quiet and empty that you start to wonder if the store is actually closed and the owner just forgot to lock the door. You suppose it wouldn’t make much sense for them to leave all the lights on if it was closed, though.

Just as you take one step forward, you hear footsteps from upstairs as they hurriedly descend before a guy emerges from a doorway on the opposite side of the room.

“Hey, sorry! It’s been super slow today, so I didn’t think anyone would come―”

He abruptly stops in his tracks when he sees you, his jaw slack as the rest of his sentence dies in his throat. Just like everything else about this place, he looks like he walked right out of an animation. He’s so good-looking that you begin to question if he’s the one shooting a movie.

He has dark, floppy brown hair that naturally falls into his eyes for that perfect windswept look that you’ve seen hairstylists spend hours perfecting on others. He’s wearing an oversized, slightly frumpy baby pink sweater paired with brown slacks and worn sneakers. There’s a cup of coffee in his hand, threatening to slip from his very loose fingers, as he gawks at you.

“Hi.” You give him a small wave, having had enough of being suffocated by the awkward silence.

“Hello,” he responds quietly, blinking blearily like he’s not fully awake. He goes to wave back with the hand that’s holding the coffee, nearly sloshing it everywhere, before fumbling around and just settling with giving you a strained smile. “How can I help you?”

If he knows who you are, he’s not saying it. So, you decide to just play along.

“I’m just…looking around,” you answer slowly, taking a tentative step forward.

He nods stiffly, robotically walking to the front counter and jerkily setting his cup down. He swings his arm out so fast that you hear a joint pop as he gestures towards the bookshelves. “Of course! Take a look around!”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, ducking your head down as you start to browse. From your peripheral, you can see that he’s standing ramrod straight behind the front counter, nervously drumming his fingers against the wood. He fidgets with a dog-eared book that’s in front of him, picking it up like he’s going to read it before setting it back down.

You can’t fight the amused smile that makes its way across your face.

Running your fingers along the spines of the books, you finally stop when you see something that catches your interest. It’s an extremely worn down copy of a volume of Sailor Moon, which is one of the first anime you ever watched. The magical girl genre has always been a favorite of yours, since everything is so colorful and sparkly and happy and full of life while you’re…not. It’s just nice to turn your brain off and relish in the cheesiness of all the frilly outfits, adorable animal sidekicks, the power of friendships, etc.

“That’s a stray,” a voice pipes up.

You turn, and you see the guy pointing at the Sailor Moon manga you’re holding. “A stray?”

“Someone dropped it off at the donation bin, probably thinking it was a trash can. It’s a little tattered, but I just couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. I don’t know, I just felt a little bad for it. Felt like it had been abandoned, and I wanted to give it a warm place to stay,” he continues to explain, beaming cheerfully. “She’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s lovely to me.”

You want to snort at how sentimental he is, but there’s such sincerity in his eyes that your resolve instantly melts away. And just like that, you don’t find it very funny anymore. Rather, you actually think it’s kind of sweet.

“Oh, but I won’t charge you for it if you’d like it,” he says hurriedly. “Also, I don’t think that’s the first volume either. I’m not sure how many volumes there are, but that’s the only one we have―”

“I’ll buy it,” you interrupt, giving him a small smile.

His mouth hangs open like he wants to say something, but he just looks at you with wide eyes. In the end, all he can muster is a nod as you set the book on the counter and wait for him to tell you the total. You know he’s undercharging you when he does, but you don’t have the energy to fight him on it. You watch as he carefully wraps it in light blue tissue paper before putting it in a pink cardboard gift box.

“It’s all recyclable and a lot more sustainable than plastic bags,” he chirps as he hands it to you. “Plus, it’s cute. Like a gift from me to you, even though you paid for it.”

“I see,” you reply, pleasantly surprised at how thoughtful he is. Then again, you suppose it’s in character for a person who keeps torn and waterlogged manga (that’s not even the first volume of the series) in his shop because he feels bad for it. “Thanks.”

“Are you visiting?” he asks, his doe eyes blinking curiously at you. “I don’t usually see people I don’t know here.”

You pause, not expecting him to continue the conversation. You still can’t tell if he really doesn’t know who you are or if he’s just pretending. However, the longer you’re around him, the less likely the latter option becomes. From his gaze, his mannerisms, to the way he speaks, there’s not a dishonest bone in this man’s body; he reads like an open book.

“Yes,” you answer truthfully.

He laughs softly. “I figured. You’re part of that Hollywood production, right?”

You’re not sure what to say to that. He’s not wrong, though you’re not sure if he knows you’re the star of that production.

“Yes,” you answer truthfully (on a technicality).

He nods like he was expecting that answer. “Yeah, sorry for all the chaos. Everyone gets in a frenzy when someone gets a new neighbor, so you can imagine how excited they were when they found out a bunch of celebrities were coming to film a show, even if most of the locals don’t even know who the celebrities are.”

“Do you know who they are?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

He looks at you bashfully. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

That’s how you know he’s telling the truth. No one watches TV. Everyone watches Netflix or some other streaming service. Or YouTube. But definitely not old-school TV, unless they’re 60-years-old.

“It’s fine,” you reply breezily. Rather, you’d prefer it like this.

“I’m Na Jaemin, by the way. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself until now.” Jaemin holds out his hand politely.

You hesitate for a moment before reaching out and shaking it. His hand is warm and big, slightly clammy. “I’m Y/N.”

You watch him carefully for any change in demeanor or a spark of recognition in his eyes, but there’s nothing. He just gives you a dazed smile as your hand brushes against his when you retract it.

“Nice to―”

Your phone starts ringing, and even though it isn’t that loud, it blares through the silence like a chainsaw. The two of you jolt, and you quickly take your phone out of your pocket to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m outside,” Somin says, slightly out of breath. “Hurry up. It’s so cold.”

“Okay, I’m coming,” you reply quickly before hanging up. You turn back towards Jaemin, and you feel a bit like an asshole for just cutting the conversation short and leaving, but you really should go.

But Jaemin seems to understand, giving you a jovial wave. “It was very nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Jaemin.”

And it really was, you find yourself realizing.

When you walk outside, Somin is standing there, shivering with her arms crossed across her body. She’s still wearing your hat, but she took off the mask. You give her the sherpa back, since she clearly needs it more than you.

“Where’s the car?” you ask as the two of you walk back to the bed and breakfast.

“I told him to drive around town to distract the reporters,” Somin answers through chattering teeth. “Who were you talking to in the bookstore? He was cute, like a golden retriever cute but still cute.”

“He’s an employee.” You roll your eyes, refusing to fall for her bait.

“He sure as hell was giving you puppy eyes,” she teases.

“Don’t even start,” you warn. “I talked to him for five minutes.”

“If you say so,” she shrugs, “just be careful. There could be paparazzi crawling around everywhere. Besides, we leave in like a month, so there’s no point in getting attached.”

“I’m not attached.”

“Famous last words.”

You give her a playful shove, shaking your head. She changes the subject, and the two of you promptly check into your rooms at the bed and breakfast. Somin’s room is right next to yours, and she bids you good night before heading inside.

Now that you’re alone in your room, your mind starts to grow restless from the complete silence. There are a million thoughts going through your head, but you can’t pinpoint a single one of them. Anxiety generates within you as your mind becomes overwhelmed by your own thoughts.

Hands trembling, you pull out your phone and start streaming Sailor Moon Crystal episodes on Netflix for white noise. You leave it on as you take a scalding shower, brush your teeth, do your skincare routine, and even when you crawl into bed.

You curl up under the covers, close your eyes as if the show is able to drown out your thoughts, and wait for the sleep that never comes.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Marvel’s new it-girl.”

You roll your eyes. “Good morning to you too, Jaehyun.”

Jeong Jaehyun smiles, showing off his perfectly straight pearly whites. “So, tell me. How good is that Marvel money?”

You’re both already in costume, with you dressed in all designer clothes with a white dentist coat over it paired with stilettos that pinch your feet―perfectly embodying an uptight city girl who’s in over her head in the countryside. Jaehyun is wearing baggy cargo shorts and a loose, wrinkled white t-shirt with flip-flops. His hair is perfectly styled to be messy, reminding you of Jaemin.

Even with minimal makeup and shabby clothes, it’s apparent how handsome Jaehyun is. Rather than the local handyman he’s playing, he looks more like a model who’s wearing “poor people chic.” Then again, this show isn’t exactly supposed to be realistic; it’s a light-hearted romance that makes people feel warm and fuzzy inside with its two unrealistically good-looking leads. That’s how romcoms work, after all.

“Wouldn’t you want to know,” you joke. “Sorry, I don’t associate with flops anymore.”

Though he hasn’t been casted in a Marvel movie (yet), Jaehyun is far from a flop. He’s a box office darling, and his films have raked in millions and millions of dollars. Of course, that doesn’t mean you won’t tease him.

“Ouch. That’s cold,” he feigns hurt, “Already forgetting your roots?”

“What? I can’t hear you over the sound of all the cash falling into my lap.”

The two of you mess with each other just a little longer before he finally drops the act and gives you a hug. You hug him back, glad to finally see a friend after a long time.

“How have you been?” he asks after he pulls back. He looks concerned for you, which doesn’t surprise you. You’ve been dominating headlines for the past couple of years, whether it be good or bad.

“Fine,” you reply automatically, not even bothering to make it sound convincing.

He gives you a pointed look.

You sigh. “What do you want me to say? I’ve been…working. Everything else that comes along with it is just part of the job.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’re fine, Y/N.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you insist, “People just want a good show, so that’s what I’ll do. I can handle my feelings on my own.”

“No,” Jaehyun says firmly, “you’re not handling them at all.”

You don’t want to admit he’s right, so you just stay quiet.

Now it’s his turn to sigh, as he reaches down and takes your hand. Running his thumb across your knuckles soothingly, he says, “I’m here for you, Y/N. Always. You know that, right?”

When you meet his gaze, he’s looking at you like you’re much more than a friend. He’s pretended to be in love with you before, as the two of you played a couple in your first movie together, but this is completely different.

It’s real.

Suddenly, the way he’s holding your hand feels different. His grip is gentle and loose enough for you to shake off, yet it’s so powerful at the same time, and you almost feel like you have no choice but to let him hold it.

You’re not sure how to react. Romance is the last thing on your mind right now. You have no plans to pursue a relationship until you’re well out of the limelight, and everyone has already forgotten who you are.

Jaehyun is a friend―someone that you can joke around with, someone that understands the pains of the industry, someone that you know you can trust.

And nothing more.

“But if you’re not ready, I’ll wait,” he adds softly.

It’s a layered statement, and you both know it.

“You’re an amazing friend, Jaehyun,” you finally say, slowly pulling your hand away. “But don’t wait for someone like me.”

There’s a pause as you watch him register your words, the rejection behind them. There’s sadness in his expression, but he doesn’t seem taken aback by it.

“Wow. You really friendzoned me at 7 in the morning,” Jaehyun laughs, his eyes still glimmering with good-natured humor.

“Who confesses at 7 in the morning?” you tease, relieved and grateful that he’s taking it in stride.

“Early bird gets the worm?”

“It’s been three seconds since I friendzoned you and now you’re calling me a worm?”

“What can I say? I move on quickly.”

The two of you continue to joke and catch up with each other like nothing ever happened until the director announces that shooting is about to begin. The rest of the morning goes by in a blur, as you move from location to location in the town to film various scenes.

By the time lunch break rolls around, your feet feel like you’ve been standing on a bed of nails for the past four hours (which isn’t inaccurate because of these damn heels). The whole crew gets a couple of hours for lunch, so you quickly change into more comfortable shoes, plus some baggy sweatpants and a hoodie, once you’re back in your dressing trailer. Somin suggests ordering delivery, but you tell her you want to check out the nearby coffee shop that you had noticed earlier.

“It’s literally right across the street from us,” you say before Somin can protest. “A three-minute walk, tops. I’ll wear a hat and cover my face.”

“Fine,” she relents, “be careful. And get me an oat milk latte.”

You give her a thumbs up before putting on a hat and face mask, slipping out of the trailer and crossing the street to the coffee shop undetected. The place isn’t too busy when you walk in, just a couple of people lounging around with their laptops. You tug your mask higher up on your face and pull the brim of your hat down as you walk up to the front.

When the barista turns around, you find yourself face-to-face with Na Jaemin.

He’s wearing a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows tucked into black work pants along with a black apron over it all. His hair is styled a bit more today, with his fringe gelled to frame his face rather than falling into his eyes.

At first, he blinks at you, probably confused as to why you’re dressed like you’re about to rob him at gunpoint. You don’t think he recognizes you until he grins, smiling so wide that his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“Hi, Y/N!”

You slightly wince at how peppy his tone is, casually doing a scan of the place to make sure no one heard him. Luckily, everyone is too engrossed in their electronic devices to pay attention.

“Hey, Jaemin,” you respond, pulling your mask down and giving him a tired half-smile. Your lips are more of a straight line than a curved one. “You work here too?”

“Oh, no. The owner, Jeno, is my best friend, and his cats had a vet appointment this morning, so I’m covering a shift for him,” he explains.

“That’s nice of you,” you nod.

“Yeah, he’s paying me double,” Jaemin deadpans, but his face twitches as he stifles a laugh.

You smile again, but this time, it’s a genuine one. You know he’s just playing around. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was doing it for free, but it’s amusing to watch him pretend to be mean―especially with his sunny demeanor.

Jaemin’s deadpan slowly melts away once he sees you smiling. He’s staring at you with that wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights, dazed expression that you seem to often catch him with.

“Um,” you start awkwardly, “is it okay if I order now?”

He blinks, and three beats pass by before your words register. Flailing his arms around, you watch as he fumbles with a few things on the iPad before he seemingly pulls up what he needs.

“Of course, yes! Sorry, sorry! Sorry about that, I think I’m a little out of it today. Anyways, what can I get you?” Jaemin asks hurriedly.

You rattle off yours and Somin’s orders, and he rings it up without any further hassle. You’re about to go wait for your drinks in the corner when you hear Jaemin call your name.

“Oh, and Y/N? Jeno is on his way back, so if you have some free time after this, I actually have something for you back at my store,” he says, looking a little nervous. “It’s not anything weird! Okay, well, saying it like that makes it sound definitely weird, but I promise it’s not. Of course, if you’re uncomfortable, I can bring it―”

“I’m free,” you finally say, deciding to put him out of his misery. You’re glad you put your face mask back up, so you can freely smile to yourself. Somin will probably kill you later, but you can’t help but be drawn to Jaemin. There’s something so endearing and honest about him, and you don’t come across people like him very often.

Jaemin’s eyes light up, and he lets out a relieved breath. “Great. Awesome. I’ll, uh, probably be done in, like, ten or so minutes.”

“Sounds good,” you agree.

He nods excitedly before turning around and making your drinks. Impressively enough, he’s quite skilled. He makes yours and Somin’s drinks at once, despite having completely different orders, expertly putting the correct ingredients in each cup and blending them at a swift pace. Once he’s done, he takes a sharpie and scribbles something on both cups.

He places the drinks in the pickup area, and you grab them before he can call out your name, since the shop was getting busier.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” you tell him quickly before darting outside to avoid the crowd of people.

When you’re outside, you squat against the wall and take a long sip of your sugary caramel macchiato. It’s only when you go back to drink it again that you notice the message written on your cup. In the same loopy cursive that was painted on the Oasis Books store sign, the black sharpie reads:

i love you say it back ☺

You smile, picking up Somin’s cup to see what was written on hers:

all you need is love ♡

Of course, he leaves little notes on all of the cups. Why wouldn’t he?

You want to make fun of them for being so corny, but―

Na Jaemin is a very beautiful man, you’ve recently discovered.

You decide to drop the drinks off at your trailer really fast, so you don’t have to carry them around later. Somin is nowhere to be found, probably poking around craft services for some snacks, much to your relief.

You return to the coffee shop afterwards, hanging around for about ten more minutes before Jaemin emerges from the store, winded like he just ran a marathon. He’s still in his barista uniform, sans apron.

“Hi,” he pants, “sorry. It got really busy all of a sudden, so I had to help Jeno out for a little longer.”

“It’s not a problem,” you reply.

“Do you like blueberries?” he suddenly asks.

You blink. “I…yes, uh, I do.”

“Here,” he says, handing you a small paper bag. “I got you a muffin.”

“Thank you,” you say, a little taken aback and slowly grabbing the bag. “You didn’t have to do that. How much do I owe you?”

He throws his head back and lets out a breezy laugh. “Nothing at all. What do you take me for, Y/N?”

“I…” you trail off. What do you take him for?

“I got it for you because you seemed really tired, and I figured it would be a nice snack,” he explains, grinning. “Besides, I stole it, so I didn’t pay anything either.”

You stare at him.

“Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that,” he says sheepishly. “Kindness is always free. And besides, Jeno won’t even notice―”

Before you can stop yourself, you reach out and give him a hug. Your arms encircle his neck as you bring him down to you, leaning your cheek against his neck. He smells like coffee, soap, and old books. You’re surprised at how he still smells like books, despite spending the past couple of hours in a coffee shop. It’s a comforting scent to you though, and you unconsciously bury your face further into his shoulder.

Jaemin stiffens for only a second before his hands slowly come up to rest on your back, gently patting it. Though you slightly feel like a baby being burped, you also find it somewhat soothing. He just makes you feel calm, and your mind is still when you’re with him, despite the fact that you’ve only interacted twice. You wonder why Jaemin, who is still essentially a stranger to you, is able to invoke such a strong feeling of safety within you.

You continue to cling onto him for another moment before reality slaps you in the face, and you jerkily recoil back from him. You face burns with embarrassment, confused as to what in God’s name possessed you to suddenly hug him out of the blue. Jaemin looks just as flustered as you, his cheeks are two red blossoms as he looks at you. Surprisingly, while he is definitely surprised, he doesn’t appear to be disgusted or angry at you.

“I am so, so sorry,” you begin to apologize profusely, feeling like you’re about to pass out. “I have no idea what came over me. I should not have done that without your―”

“I-It’s okay!” Jaemin interrupts, reaching out and gently placing his hand on your arm. His touch manages to quell your blubbering, and you slow down enough to gather your thoughts. He waits for you to collect yourself and meet his eyes before he says softly, “Hugs are free too.”

You’d normally cringe at that, but instead, you stare into his impossibly deep brown eyes, getting lost in them. They differ so much from his happy-go-lucky personality. His eyes are calm, steady, and firm. There’s a genuine, inviting warmth to them, like a safe haven. And every time you look into them, you lose the will to mock him―and your nerves.

Yes, you think to yourself again, Na Jaemin is a very, very beautiful man.

And it’s a beauty that you hope will never be tarnished.

“Thanks,” you quietly say. You seem to be thanking him a lot today.

“You’re welcome,” he says, smiling. “Are you ready to go?”

You nod, and the two of you head back back to his bookstore. Once you’re inside, he turns the lights on, and you watch them slowly flicker to life. You noticed it the first time you walked in, but his store just radiates a sense of peacefulness. In fact, the store resembles Jaemin in a lot of ways.

Jaemin makes a beeline for the front counter, where there’s a small package sitting there.

“It just came in this morning,” he explains vaguely, rummaging through a drawer for a box cutter.

“What is it?” you ask, getting closer to take a better look.

He waggles his eyebrows before cutting the box open and pulling out two brand new volumes of Sailor Moon. With its glossy covers and crisp pages, it's a stark contrast compared to the one you bought.

“I looked through my catalog, and I figured out that the volume you have is the third one, so I ordered the first two for you,” Jaemin announces, eyes twinkling with excitement.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that.

He mistakes your stunned silence for discontent, faltering. “Of course, if you don’t want them that’s totally fine too! I just―”

“No, I love them,” you interrupt instantly, reaching out and placing your hand on the counter. Without even realizing it, you’re smiling. “I was just…surprised. At how wonderful you are.”

You didn’t plan on saying that last part out loud, but you suppose there’s no harm in it now that it’s already happened. Especially since you get to see his reaction.

Jaemin has gone all wide-eyed again, and he has a glazed-over expression like he’s going to faint at any moment. It’s only when the books slip from his hands and falls to the floor with a two loud thuds that he snaps out of his trance.

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters as he scrambles to collect them before handing them to you, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. Here. Take them before I drop them again.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the books and tucking them under your arm. “How much?”

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “Nothing, Y/N. I thought we already went over this.”

“I’m not going to let you give me these books for free,” you state flatly.

“And I’m not going to let you give me your money. I feel bad for even charging you for the other one. It was so torn up, not to mention, it wasn’t even the first volume,” he persists, “Oh, but I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t order a new third volume. I would feel too sorry for the old third volume. It’s been in my store for so long, and now it finally has a loving home, so I don’t want it to be replaced so fast.”

At this point, you expect nothing less from Na Jaemin.

“I don’t mind,” you answer, “I prefer the old one anyways.”

“I’m glad,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief.

He pauses for a second before hurriedly adding on, “Well, um, I’m sure you’re busy, so you probably need to go.”

“I’m actually on lunch break, so I have time,” you reply.

He blinks in surprise, like he was expecting you to bolt out of here as quickly as possible. To be honest, you’re not sure why you aren’t. You just like it here―and him.

Not like that, of course.

“Oh. That’s great,” he says awkwardly, as he gauges whether or not he should continue the conversation and if you even want to talk to him. Maybe it’s his clear uncomfort around long silences or the fact that you haven’t left yet, but he decides to keep talking. “How are you liking it here so far? A regular of mine said she saw a bunch of cameramen filming all over the place.”

“I’m not really sure,” you say honestly, shrugging. “The town is very pretty, from what I’ve seen. I just haven’t seen much on my own.”

“Why not?” He scrunches his nose.

“Well, we’re not exactly getting paid to sightsee, unfortunately. We have a really tight schedule and budget, so we can’t waste a second,” you explain.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t even been to the beach,” Jaemin says incredulously. “I know the weather has been pretty cold, but the beach is a must-see!”

“No, but I’m sure we’ll have to film there soon,” you say, “So, I’ll see it eventually.”

After all, is it really a seaside romance if there’s no dramatic, slow-motion montage of you and Jaehyun running around in the water?

“No way. It’s not the same!” Jaemin insists. “You said you have free time, right? Let’s go then.”

You gawk at him.

This man wants to take you to the beach, in the middle of winter?

“You do know it’s freezing, right?” you ask slowly.

“Less people to deal with,” he counters.

You suppose he has a point. Especially for someone like you.

“This is a stupid idea,” you say aloud, but it’s mostly directed towards yourself.

Because you’re actually considering it.

In addition to the constant risk of being recognized, photographed, and/or swarmed, Somin was already going to kill you because you’ve been out for way too long, but she’ll have your head on a stick if she finds out you went to the beach with a cute local.

“Don’t tell me you Hollywood people are too chicken to go to the beach just because it’s a little chilly?” he teases.

“Fine. Let’s go,” you retort immediately, against your better judgment.

He grins mischievously, gesturing towards the door.  “After you.”

Squaring your shoulders and haughtily pointing your nose up in the air, you march right on out of the store. You only get about three steps outside before you realize you have no idea where the beach is. Luckily, Jaemin is following close behind you and promptly takes the lead. At first, you’re expecting him to take you in a car or by bus or some sort of vehicle, but like everything in this town, the beach is within walking distance.

During the walk, Jaemin starts to give you a brief tour of the town, though you mostly pass by regular buildings like the fire station or the post office.

“Yeah, we don’t exactly have a lot of tourist attractions,” he laughs, “that’s why you have to see the beach.”

You didn’t particularly mind how mundane everything is, rather, you find yourself enjoying the simplicity of it all. Living a quiet life in a beautiful seaside town with a tight-knit community is all you’ve ever wanted.

Speaking of a tight-knit community, it doesn’t take you long to notice how friendly Jaemin is with all of the locals. He has to stop talking to you every couple of minutes to say hi to a passerby. Though a little inconvenient for you, since you have to duck your head and look away every time, it's still heartwarming to see―especially since the majority of them are elderly.

The two of you arrive at the beach after about fifteen minutes, and it’s completely empty. That doesn’t surprise either of you, considering the fact that not only is it super cold outside but it’s also extremely windy. The waves are rough, ferociously splashing up against the rocks and sand. Apparently, Poseidon must be having a bad day. Maybe his kids are causing trouble or something.

Jaemin, on the other hand, is unbothered. He breathes in the smell of the saltwater, closing his eyes and taking it all in as if he were posing for a pictorial, before bending down and taking off his shoes. You watch him, unsure if you’re impressed or horrified. Eventually, you just sigh and follow suit, slipping off your sneakers and socks as well. Even though you changed out of your filming clothes, your hair and makeup are still done, and you know they’re going to be ruined after this. However, you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

You walk alongside him on the sandbank, your hair is blowing all over the place. The wind is so strong that you have to slightly dig your toes into the cold and damp sand to stable yourself. When you glance at Jaemin, he’s strolling like it’s a perfectly sunny and windless day.

“Isn’t it great?” he yells, voice nearly inaudible over the sound of the roaring waves.

“Maybe if you enjoy hurricanes!” you shout back.

But there is something exhilarating about being bombarded by the elements like this. It makes you feel less like a character that only exists through the screen and more like a living, breathing human―alive and free, not a doll for others to play with. You don’t have to follow a million rules and keep up with your appearance; you can run along the beach, mess your hair up, and not care about the consequences.

“Wanna go in the water?” Jaemin asks, grinning.

Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Are you crazy? That water is subzero―”

“Come on! Isn’t that what they do in Hollywood movies?” he jokes.

“Yeah, because they’re getting paid!” you answer. “And the weather is way better! I’m not getting pneumonia for free!”

But Jaemin isn’t even listening to you anymore, already waist-deep in the water. He lets out a half-pained, half-delighted yelp when the freezing temperature of the water hits him at full-force. Blinking saltwater out of his eyes and slicking his hair back with his hand, he gestures for you to go in as well. You go to shake your head, but then he starts flapping his arms like a chicken. You can’t hear him anymore because of how loud the water is, but you know for a fact that he’s making bawk bawk noises.

Like most people (or so you’d like to think), the irrational anger of being possibly labeled as a chicken always manages to rile you up, and you’re also wading in before you know it. Jaemin doesn’t have time to even speak as you swing your arm and splash him in the face with water. It hits him with a loud smack, and he looks like a drowned rat. His hair is stuck flat against his forehead, and his white shirt is completely see-through. Normally, you’d avert your eyes and pretend like you weren’t checking him out, but you’re too busy grinning like a maniac and reveling in your revenge to even notice.

“That’s unfair!” he complains, not bothering to move his hair so it gives the illusion of a really bad bowl haircut. “You caught me off guard!”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” you tease.

“Who said I lost?” He rolls his shoulder, gearing up his arm to splash you just as hard. You turn around to run, but neither of you get a chance to react before a massive wave knocks Jaemin on his ass.

You double over, laughing so hard that your stomach starts to cramp, and nearly fall backwards into the water yourself. He doesn’t say anything, just brushing his hair out of his eyes. You’re expecting him to splash you back, or at least complain about how hard the water hit him―but he doesn’t.

Instead, Jaemin is just sitting there, with his hands propping him up as he looks at you. You’ve grown accustomed to that dazed look, but this one isn’t a typical look. This one is more…more like the first time he saw you. That one felt different. He stared at you as if he couldn’t believe you were real, much less standing in front of him. As if time completely froze, like the two of you were stuck in a vacuum of space. As if you were the only thing that existed in his world. As if he were completely and utterly awestruck.

Just like he’s doing right now.

He looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time again, paying no attention to the rough waters or howling wind.

It’s only when the ocean forces him to pay attention, slamming him with another wave so hard that he nearly folds over like a lawn chair and goes face-first into the water, that he finally reacts.

“That one was really unfair,” he chuckles, speaking so quietly that you have to lean down to hear him.

“Get up before you accidentally drown,” you smile, giving him a hand.

Jaemin takes your hand and lets you pull him to his feet without any protest. His hand is cool to the touch, and it sends shivers along your spine, though there are various factors as to why that happened. You go to retract your hand, but yet another wave hits, threatening his balance again. Instead of letting him go, you grip his hand tighter and your other hand clutches his arm to keep him upright.

The wave pushes him closer towards you, bringing his chest directly against yours. Your wet clothes stick together as he cranes his neck down to look at you. Droplets from his hair drip onto your cheek, but you’re too focused on a small bead of water that’s threatening to fall from his bottom lip. Jaemin seems distracted too, as his eyes follow a droplet that’s slowly rolling down your clavicle. His breath slightly hitches, and you feel the sharp rise in his chest.

A small golden ray of sunlight suddenly peeks through the gray clouds, shining in your eyes and forcing you to turn your head. Once you tear your eyes from him, Jaemin immediately takes a step back and clears his throat.

“We should go,” he says, voice slightly hoarse. “I think it’s going to rain soon.”

“Yes,” you agree, “we should.”

The two of you make your way out of the water in silence, just as the sun starts to shine through the dissipating clouds.

On the walk back, Jaemin speaks to you like nothing happened, waving at locals and telling you more about the town. You respond like you normally would as well, nodding along and asking questions about things you find interesting. However, no amount of pretending can get rid of this newly-acquired tension between the two of you. The pressure of knowing that there’s been a definite shift in the way you see each other.

When you arrive back at the bookstore, Jaemin wraps up the Sailor Moon manga for you and offers you a towel and change of clothes. To your surprise, he actually has a loft right above the store, which is where he lives. You suppose that would explain why he had been coming from upstairs when you first met him. However, you decline anyways, since you’re pretty sure putting on his clothes would make things stranger than they already are. Besides, your trailer isn’t far, so you promptly wave bye to him and leave. As you’re walking away, a part of you wants to turn around and see if he’s looking at you―and what kind of expression he has on his face.

You don’t have much time to dwell on it because Somin is waiting for you once you get back to the trailer. She nearly bursts a blood vessel when she sees you standing in front of her, dripping puddles on the ground with your hair and makeup in complete shambles.

“I―” she starts, voice cracking. You can’t tell if she wants to cry or run you over with a car. Probably both. You watch her inhale deeply, doing some sort of meditation before she calmly says, “I will not ask because that will not be good for my mental health. Just…just sit still in this chair while I go get the hairstylist and makeup artist.”

By the time you’re completely fixed up, the hairstylist, the makeup artist, and Somin all look like they’ve aged ten years. You feel bad for giving them more work, but you don’t regret anything. Fortunately, the rest of filming goes well, and you wrap up the day without any more hitches. Somin sticks to her word even when you return to the bed and breakfast, refusing to ask about what happened, probably because she would go under cardiac arrest.

Once you’re alone in your room, having gotten ready to bed, you curl up under your covers and flip through your new volumes on Sailor Moon. As you’re reading, it occurs to you that Jaemin is kind of a magical girl himself. He suits the sparkly and cheerful tone of the genre to a tee, and you find yourself smiling at the thought of him in one of those frilly outfits. Perhaps that is why you gravitate towards him so much.

You glance over at the torn-up third volume before reaching for it, thumbing through the faded and distorted pages, before looking back at the shiny new volumes. The metaphor is all too apparent, and it’s both hilarious and sad.

Placing all the manga back on your nightstand, you turn your lamp off and go to bed. You don’t even notice that you aren’t playing any shows from your phone for white noise. Maybe it’s exhaustion from the beach or the wide range of emotions you experienced today, but you close your eyes, and for the first time in a very, very long time, your mind is clear.

And you sleep.

📼 SIDE B: I’D KISS YOU AS THE LIGHTS WENT OUT, SWAYING AS THE ROOM BURNED DOWN

The next couple of weeks pass by in a blur as filming starts to ramp up, and you grow much busier. Your lunch breaks are much shorter now, in an attempt to remedy the tight schedules, so you rarely ever get to see Jaemin anymore. You run into him occasionally when you’re returning from a long shoot, and he always has some sort of snack to give you. He asks you for more manga recommendations, but you don’t tell him because you know he’s going to buy them for you. While the two of you have grown pretty friendly with each other, that unspoken tension is always lingering. The only reason why it hasn’t grown suffocating is because you aren’t around him long enough for it to build.

And a part of you wishes you were

Every time you come home, you glance around in hopes of getting a glimpse of Jaemin. You get giddy like a schoolgirl when you hear him call your name. No matter how long you talk, it never feels long enough. You’ve grown sick of seeing his back as he walks away.

You just had to go and get yourself attached.

Getting attached always ends in disaster, and you knew it was only a matter of time.

You’re in your room, engrossed in a poetry book that Jaemin recommended, when you suddenly hear someone pounding on your door. Scrambling out of bed, you hurriedly answer it and come face-to-face with a furious Somin.

Before you can even speak, she shoves her phone in your face. “Is this why you came back to the trailer soaking wet a few weeks ago?”

You blink, taking a moment to register what you’re looking at. It’s a breaking news article, with its capitalized, bold-lettered title reading:

THE STARLET’S SEASIDE ROMANCE?

The article is plastered with photos of you and Jaemin at the beach, capturing candids of the two of you walking on the sand together, you splashing water at him, and even the moment when you helped him up. In the only bright side to the situation, whoever took the photos had the decency to blur out Jaemin’s face.

Against your better judgment, you skim the opening lines of the article, which say, We all know Y/N is off filming her new Netflix show, which is about a seaside romance, but who knew that she would actually be having one in real life? Only a little bit after her dating rumors with Jeong Jaehyun, she is now being tied to a mystery man…

“It’s that bookstore employee, right?” Somin demands.

You feel sick to your stomach. You don’t care about the dating rumors, since you’re embroiled in one every day, but you’re so worried about Jaemin. Not only is he going to be blindsided by your celebrity status, but he’s now slapped on the front page of every tabloid ever.

Oh God. Has he seen it yet?

A loud clap of thunder, followed by the sound of a downpour of rain, jolts you to your senses.

“I have to go,” you breathe.

“What?” Somin furrows her brows. “Y/N, answer my question first―”

“I have to go see him,” you repeat, pushing past her.

“Y/N, wait!” She grabs your wrist, and when you whirl around to face her, she hesitates.

“Please,” you beg, “I have to go.”

Somin doesn’t respond, her hand simply falling from your wrist and limply back to her side, as she watches you bolt out into the storm.

Even though Jaemin’s store is right across from the bed and breakfast, you’re still somehow drenched by the time you arrive. Luckily, the lights are still on, but there’s a closed sign hanging on the front door. You pay no mind to it, loudly banging on the door. You’re pretty sure you’re about to break the glass when you finally see Jaemin coming downstairs and walking towards you.

When he opens the door, you can tell by the conflicted expression on his face that he’s already seen the article. However, as of now, he looks more concerned than betrayed as he takes in the state you’re in. Your thin cotton pajama set clings to your body as you shiver in the rain, but you don’t even feel cold.

“Jaemin, I―”

“Hurry up and come in,” he interrupts, ushering you inside. You drip water all over the wood floor and up the stairs as you follow him into his loft.

His loft is basically just an extension of his store, walls lined with shelves and shelves of books, except equipped with a bathroom, kitchen, and bed. You stand there awkwardly as he digs through his clothing drawer and pulls out a soft-looking sweater with fleece sweatpants.

“Go change first,” he says, handing you the clothes and pointing to his bathroom.

“But―”

He gives you a look like he doesn’t feel like arguing, so you obediently go into the bathroom and change. Your pajamas make a gross, wet slap noise as you peel them off your body and toss them on the floor. You dry off with a towel before you slip on his clothes. They’re incredibly warm and big, with his sweater reaching your thighs and sweatpants pooling at your feet. His natural scent, mixed with the smell of books, engulfs you and instantly calms you down. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you try to build up enough courage to leave the bathroom and face him.

No matter how much you don’t want to, you do eventually step out, albeit meekly tip-toeing. Jaemin is sitting on the couch, drinking something from a mug. He smiles when notices you emerging before doing a double take once he sees you in his clothes.

“Do you like hot chocolate?” he asks, voice cracking.

You nod, and he holds up the mug that’s sitting on the coffee table. You see steam rising from it, so he must’ve just finished making it.

“Come sit and have some then. It’ll warm you up,” he urges, looking a little warm himself.

“I think I need vodka,” you mutter, but you walk over and take a seat beside him. Before he can say anything, you reach over and start to sip the hot chocolate. It scalds your tongue, but at least it buys you some time before you have to talk.

Jaemin patiently waits for you to finish, staring down at his own cup as he idly swirls the hot chocolate with a spoon. It’s so quiet that you can hear every clink of the spoon against the glass.

Finally, you decide to just bite the bullet. “So, you saw the article.”

He pauses, perhaps taken aback by your bluntness. “Yes. Jeno called me about it, and he explained everything.”

You chew on your bottom lip, guilt racking your entire body. You wish he would just get angry. Yell at you for lying, for betraying his trust, for making a fool out of him, for dragging him into this mess. It feels so much worse when he reacts like this.

“I’m sorry,” you say, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “I should have told you. I just―you were the only one who didn’t know who I was, and I wanted you to treat me like a normal―”

“Y/N, stop,” Jaemin says softly. “I’m not upset at you.”

“You’re…not?”

“Of course not. You’re an A-list celebrity, so obviously you weren’t going to tell some random stranger who you were,” he dismisses. “I would’ve done the same thing if I were you.”

“Oh,” you breathe, feeling a little light-headed from how relieved you are. “Then, why do you seem upset?”

“It’s my fault,” he whispers harshly. “If I hadn’t pressured you into going to the beach, those pictures never would’ve been taken. God, I’m so dumb. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you―”

Now, it’s your turn to stop him. “Jaemin, if I do anything, I get photographed. I could sneeze a little too hard, and those photos would be up on some gossip site the next day. It’s not your fault. It would’ve happened one way or another.”

“Still, I should’ve been more careful,” he insists. There’s a crease between his brows and his lips are turned downwards, almost like a pout, and you feel a little guilty for thinking he looks quite cute when he’s frustrated. Especially since he’s so upset at something that isn’t his fault in the slightest.

“It doesn’t matter how careful you are,” you shake your head, “Paparazzi always find a way.”

“Wow, that sounds extremely annoying,” he says, amazed at how casual you are about it.

You let out a bitter laugh, not even answering.

“You must really love acting, huh?” he asks, leaning back. “I think I’d have to really love something to endure all those hardships that come with it.”

It takes you a long time to answer.

Has anyone ever asked you that? Have you ever asked yourself that?

“I,” you begin slowly, “I…did.”

The past tense doesn’t go unnoticed by Jaemin, and he waits for you to continue.

“I did, at first,” you explain, “It was fun. I could be anybody I wanted. It was freeing, and I felt powerful. Now that I think about it, those first few years were the best times of my life. I pulled countless all-nighters to practice lines, went to every audition they’d let me in, and got rejected from almost all of them. But I didn’t mind. I was determined to be an actor, and when I finally got my first gig, I cried so much that I couldn’t open my eyes for a week because they were so swollen―which got me nearly fired too.”

Jaemin smiles at that.

“I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into acting. I clawed my way to the top, and now that I’m finally here,” you pause, “I think I lost myself in the process. It’s not even about the acting anymore. My life has been consumed by everything else. I’m terrified of what insane headline I’ll wake up to next, how the media will make fun of me today. I can’t sleep because of it, and I hate myself for it. I hate that I let it get into my head, that I let it bother me―”

You abruptly stop when you realize you’re getting a bit too emotional. You seem to have taken Jaemin’s silence as encouragement to continue, even though he never verbally indicated it. Embarrassed, you avoid eye contact before saying, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to just dump all of that on you.”

“Don’t ever apologize,” Jaemin says firmly and immediately. “Y/N, you are not an entity that only exists through a screen. You’re a human that feels things, and no one, not even you, is allowed to shame you for it. Those tabloids might forget, but you shouldn’t ever forget. You’re a person before an actor.”

His words reverberate through you like the thunder outside.

How long have you been waiting for someone to tell you that? How long have you been waiting for someone to look at you, not through a lens but with their own eyes?

When you look at him, he’s looking back. His face is illuminated by the warm glow of the ceiling light, and his steady brown eyes are gazing into yours. He doesn’t need to say it, and you know. He sees you, not as Y/N the actor. Just Y/N.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“No need to thank me. Consider me your human trash can,” he announces proudly, “Dump all of the trash you’ve been carrying.”

That makes you laugh. “You always seem to know what to say.”

Na Jaemin always knows what to say to make you feel something.

“No,” he chuckles, “I just…I understand.”

“You do?” you ask, feeling the weight behind his words.

“Yeah,” he trails off slightly, “I do.”

You scoot closer to him, taking another sip of your hot chocolate. “I’ll be your trash can too.”

“Never in my life did I think that A-list celebrity Y/N would be sitting here in my loft, telling me she’ll be my trash can,” Jaemin teases before growing quiet again. You’ve never seen him look so vulnerable and small.

“Mine’s not as interesting as yours,” he warns.

“I doubt that,” you reassure him.

“I, uh,” he clears his throat, “I used to work on Wall Street.”

You blink in surprise. The only thing you know about Wall Street is the movie Wolf of Wall Street, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, which is about a corrupt stockbroker and his various crimes. Naturally, Jaemin’s gentle personality doesn’t exactly fit the image.

“Paid pretty well, as you would imagine,” he continues, “And I was good at my job too, if I do say so myself. I had everything that I could’ve dreamed of before I had even turned 30. I partied all the time, had a nice car, designer clothes, an expensive apartment, and an amazing group of friends. But it was soul-draining to sit at a desk every day and take people’s money using any means necessary in order to line my own pockets. I felt like a shell of a person. The guilt kept me up at night, so I took sleeping pills until they started doing more harm than good.”

You too.

“Eventually, I just needed to get out, so I sold all my things and hopped on the earliest flight out of New York. I wandered all over the globe for a while before I eventually stumbled here. This place was just so different from the city life I was accustomed to. There were no cars honking 24/7, sirens constantly going off, people yelling profanities at each other in the street, and most importantly, no soul-sucking corporate offices. The people here didn’t ask any questions and took me in without a second thought. They treated me like I was their son, and they saved me from my own thoughts,” he says, and you can see how much he truly loves this place and the people. “A lot of people said I was running away, but I didn’t care. This is my home now.”

“You’re not running away,” you affirm, “you’re brave, Jaemin. It takes a lot of courage to walk away from your whole life, everything you’ve ever known, in order to start anew.”

You can whine and moan about all of your problems as much as you want, but at the end of the day, you’re still choosing to be an actor. If you really wanted to, you could be like Jaemin and completely step away from the limelight. However, you don’t because acting is all you’ve ever known. You wouldn’t have anywhere to go, just like Jaemin didn’t, but he left anyway. And for that, he is braver than you’ll ever be.

“I’m not. It’s only because of everyone here,” he shakes his head. His eyes soften as he gazes tenderly at you. He looks at you so lovingly that you almost believe he loves you. “I hope you’ll be able to find someone like that too, Y/N.”

As if on cue, there’s another loud boom of thunder before all of the lights in his loft flicker off.

A power outage, you think, but it doesn’t linger on your mind for too long.

You’re not sure who leans in first, but drawn to each other like north and south magnets, the two of you close the gap between you and press your lips together. The kiss tastes like a mixture of rainwater and hot chocolate. Jaemin starts off slowly, languidly, like he’s trying to suck all of the air out of you. However, as the rain pours harder, he grows a bit more feverish, pulling you onto his lap. The livewire tension that had been building up between you two all this time has finally ignited, and he deepens the kiss. He bites down on your bottom lip before trailing kisses down your neck and down your clavicle. Your arms are wound tightly around his neck, and Jaemin’s hands go under your sweater to rest on your waist. Everywhere he touches feels like his fingerprints are being burned into your bare skin.

The only rational sliver of your mind left is screaming for you to stop. This is exactly what Somin was warning you about. Getting attached is only a recipe for hurt. You’ve already gone and spilled your life story to him, which is probably the worst thing you could’ve done. It’s one thing to have a physical attachment; it’s a whole other to have an emotional one.

And now you have both.

Not to mention the fact that pictures of you and Jaemin have already been leaked. You’re also leaving at the end of the month, so is there a way you can realistically maintain a relationship with Jaemin when the two of you live such drastically different lives?

Jaemin’s hands start to move up, along with your sweater, and you suddenly can’t think straight anymore. You cup his face with your hands, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, as he gazes up at you in a trance. You try your best to remember this―the feeling of his body against yours, the way he’s looking at you.

Fuck it, you think.

You don’t want to think about the consequences anymore.

You want to be selfish.

So, you close your eyes―

and let yourself take refuge in Na Jaemin’s arms.

When you wake up, you’re lying on Jaemin’s bare chest. His arm is wrapped around your shoulder, and his hand is cradling the back of your head. You lay there for another moment, listening to his breathing and feeling the rise and fall of his chest, before you realize you’re hot.

This man is like a personal furnace.

You’re not sure how you managed to cocoon yourself in the covers, completely hogging all of it from Jaemin (not that he needed them), but you’re promptly trying to free yourself so you don’t die of a heat stroke. Once you’re finally sitting up properly, you glance back over at Jaemin. Amazingly enough, he continues to sleep soundly even through your struggle. He seems so peaceful like this, laying on his back with his arms draped across his chest (probably because he thinks he’s still holding you). His hair is tousled, sticking up in random tufts, and you can’t help but notice how much more innocent he looks when he’s asleep.

He really is beautiful.

Unconsciously, you reach out and brush your fingers through his unruly bangs, which makes him stir slightly. You quickly retract your hand, not wanting to disturb him. Looking around, you pick up his sweater from off the floor before slipping it on. You aimlessly wander around his loft, running your hand against the shelves of books that line his walls.

Finally, you stop when you come across a shelf that isn’t full of books but picture frames. The photos basically serve as a timeline of his life here. Most of them are with the elderly locals; there’s one where he’s in fisherman gear and helping someone pull a net filled with fish, followed directly by another where he’s holding a fish that’s floundering and he’s in the middle of getting slapped by its tail. One where he has his arms wrapped around two aunties in front of what looks like a grand opening of his bookstore, and he’s putting peace signs behind their heads and making them look like ears. One where he’s cuddling with three cats while pushing someone (you’re assuming it’s Jeno) out of the frame.

There’s so many more, and of course, Jaemin looks exactly the same in all of them, but it’s the light in his eyes that’s inconsistent. In some of them, his face is a bit haggard, and he’s smiling, but it never reaches his eyes. In others, he seems like a completely different person because of how truly happy he is.

Ah, you think, what a harsh slap from reality.

As you look through his life in pictures, it becomes glaringly apparent that there is no place for you on this shelf.  

He���s finally found happiness, and you and your fucked-up life weren’t going to be the one to shatter it.

You march towards the bathroom, where Jaemin has washed your pajamas and hung them to dry. They’re still a little damp, but you don’t care as you rip off his sweater and put on your own clothes. He washed them with his detergent, so you’re still enveloped in his scent. His touch lingers on your body as if his hands are still all over you, and you need to leave right now―

“Y/N?” There’s a knock on the bathroom door.

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut as you steel your resolve for the inevitable confrontation. Why did he have to wake up now?

When you open the door, Jaemin is already up and dressed. He’s in a loose, wrinkled t-shirt and the sweatpants that you had been wearing last night. A section of his midriff is showing because he’s scratching his stomach as he groggily peers down at you. Even though he’s still half-asleep, his eyes light up when he sees you before quickly growing confused.

“I don’t think those are dry yet,” he points out, gesturing at your pajamas.

“I have to go,” you cut him off, brushing past him and making a beeline for the stairs.

“Wha―wait!” Jaemin calls after you, grabbing your wrist. “What’s going on? At least have breakfast first.”

You slap his hand away, recoiling from him. “Don’t touch me.”

Jaemin’s face completely crumples as he stares at you in stunned hurt. He takes a small step away from you, like he can’t bear to be close to you right now even though he wants nothing more.

“Can I at least ask why?” His voice trembles.

“You still don’t get it,” you hiss, “The more involved we get with each other, the crazier the media will get. You won’t ever be able to live like a normal person again. Everywhere you go, there’ll be photographers following―”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you last night if I didn’t know what I was signing up for,” he states.

“I won’t let you turn your life into a living hell, Jaemin,” you shake your head, but somehow, you’re the one begging him. “Not when you’ve finally found a life, a family here.”

“It’s not your decision to make,” he says roughly. A muscle in his jaw spasms.  “Not when I’ve finally found you.”

You sigh. “You’re just confused because we slept―”

“Don’t,” he immediately interrupts. Even though his tone is angry, Jaemin looks at you like you just slapped him in the face. “You can make all the excuses you want, but don’t tell me how I feel about you.”

You can only stare at him, unable to bring yourself to say anything.

“I like you, Y/N, and I’m asking if you like me too. Forget about everything else, and tell me what you want,” Jaemin pleads.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say quietly. “It won’t change anything.”

“I can handle it,” he insists, reaching out to cradle your cheek. “I can handle anything that the media throws at me, as long as you still want me.”

Perhaps he could. If you really wanted to, the two of you could make it work. After all, plenty of famous people maintain relationships with non-celebrities. It would be hard, and his life would be upturned, but at least you would have each other. You would be happy, the happiest you’ve ever been in a long, long time, with him. Yes, perhaps you could have a spot on his shelf, but not without knocking off a few photos.

But Na Jaemin is a much braver person than you are, and you’re not willing to put him through that, no matter how bright the light is at the end of the tunnel.

“I can’t,” you whisper, voice breaking, stepping back yet again so he can’t touch you. You’re certain your resistance will instantly dissipate the moment he lays a finger on you.

The moment you reject him for a second time, you see that you’ve successfully driven the final dagger into his heart. Just as quickly as it swelled for you, it is destroyed.

He makes no move to stop you as you walk past him, though his traitorous eyes still follow you like a moth drawn to a flame. Despite the fact that you don’t turn around, you feel his gaze against your back even when you enter the bed and breakfast and close the door behind you.

Somin is waiting in your room and surprisingly doesn’t throw a fit once she sees you. She’s actually quite calm as she says, “Tell me what you want me to say about the photos, and I’ll say it.”

“Deny it,” you say instantly, barely even looking at her as you head straight into your bathroom.

She blinks, clearly not expecting your answer, before getting up and following you. “What?”

“Deny it.” You turn on your shower to the hottest temperature it’ll go before you start taking your pajamas off.

“But…you really like him, don’t you?” She’s searching your expression, trying to find some indication of what exactly changed in the last twelve hours.

“Does it matter?” you snap. “I’m going damage control. Isn’t that exactly what you want?”

You rarely ever raise your voice at Somin, and she can only gawk at you with her mouth wide open. But you don’t really care anymore, stepping into the shower and letting the hot water douse you. You hear Somin’s footsteps leave the bathroom and the door click shut, and now you’re finally alone.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you wait for the water to scald Jaemin’s fingerprints off of your skin.

.

.

.

Somin does as you say, releasing a statement denying everything, and you don’t see Jaemin again after that.

A part of you still hopes to at least get a glimpse of him through the window of his bookstore when you’re coming home, but the lights are always off by the time you return. You have managed to completely erase him from your life. It’s exactly what was supposed to happen, yet why do you feel like complete shit?

The remainder of the month melds together, and you go through the rest of the filming on auto-pilot. Jaehyun does his best to cheer you up, but everything he says just goes in one ear and out of the other. You no longer have a grasp on the passage of time, and before you know it, the end of the month has arrived, filming has wrapped, and it’s time to leave.

On the crew’s last day, the town throws another huge party for everyone, much like they did when you first showed up. You finally are able to take a picture with the mayor, and he gives you the honorable keys to the city. Not wanting to be a killjoy the entire night, you force yourself to smile through all of it. You wear your smile as a mask, plastered on for so long that your facial muscles are spasming from exhaustion due to the amount of time you’ve kept it up.

When the party is over, you wave goodbye to all the locals and climb into your car, expecting to head to the ferry dock. However, the driver’s route is a bit too familiar, and  it finally hits you that you’re being driven to Oasis Books. You’re stopped right in front of it, and Somin shoves your three volumes of Sailor Moon manga in your arms and then you out of the car.

“I’m tired of you moping around like some human blob of depression,” she snaps, “The least you could do is give yourself and him some closure by saying goodbye.”

Before you can even respond, she slams the car door shut and you hear it lock.

You stand there for a moment, unable to process what exactly just happened. Slowly, you turn around and take in the sight of the building that you didn’t know you missed so much. The lights are finally on, and that warm ambiance still has a magnetic hold on you. You don’t know whether your hands are trembling from the cold or your nerves as you reach out and pull the door open, hearing the jingling of the bells attached.

The store is empty, Jaemin nowhere in sight.

You let out the breath you’ve been holding―

only to inhale it again when you hear footsteps from upstairs, and a face that you’ve longed to see emerges from a doorway on the opposite side of the room.

“Sorry, it’s been slow today so I―”

Jaemin stops dead in his tracks when he sees you.

He looks a lot worse than the last time you saw him. There are dark circles underneath his eyes, and his cheeks are sunken in. His hair is flat and unkempt against his forehead, falling into his eyes. His clothes are wrinkled and bunched together, like he just rolled out of bed.

He looks like he did in some of his old photos.

His eyes look just as hurt as they did when you first left him. Rather, they seem even more pained by your reappearance.

“Hi,” you say meekly.

“Hello,” he answers, and you can hear he’s choking back emotion.

“I leave tonight,” you blurt out.

He swallows. “I know.”

“I, um, wanted to drop by and say bye,” you fumble with the manga in your arms, “and return these.”

To be honest, you had no intention of giving the manga back until this moment. They were your only memory of Jaemin, but now that you’re in front of him, it seems wrong to take pieces of him with you after you broke his heart so brutally.

“They deserve loving homes, and they’ll be taken care of more here than they ever would be if they were with me,” you continue, setting the books down on the front counter.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he demands.

You’ve never seen him more upset, not even back then. “I―”

“You said you wouldn’t let me turn my life into a living hell, so what are you doing right now?” He frustratingly cards a hand through his hair. “If you were going to leave, then you shouldn’t have come back right when I had decided I was going to forget you. What sense does it make to keep reopening my wounds like this? To keep reminding me that you exist as if every little thing I come across doesn’t already? Why do you have to be so cruel to the very end?”

A tear falls from his eye, and you feel it like a punch to the gut.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can say. You dig your nails into your palm to keep yourself from breaking down. You tell yourself to remember this feeling. Remember what you did to Na Jaemin, and carry it with you for the rest of your life.

“What do you want from me?” he asks. “Do you want me to beg? Beg you to stay? Is that why you’re here? To see just how much I’m wrapped around your finger?”

You shake your head, unable to speak in fear of letting out a sob. If he were to beg now, you would stay without a second thought. You would stay and ruin his life more than you already have.

“Take the books, and leave. Please. I can’t―I can’t be in here if those are here too.” Jaemin can’t even look at you anymore.

But because you’re selfish and cruel, you walk over to him, bring yourself to your tip-toes, and give him a kiss on the cheek. Jaemin can’t fight his instincts and his hand comes up to delve into your hair, burying his nose into your neck. He holds you against him for one last time before you step back.

You stare into his eyes full of longing and brush wipe a tear from his cheek.

“Bye, Jaemin.”

Turning, you take the books and tightly clutch them to your chest before walking out of Oasis Books.

You wish that you could’ve told him your feelings. That you like him too. You like him so much that you can’t even think straight. You like him so much that you don’t mind being the villain, the human shield. You like him so much that you wish for nothing but his happiness.

But you don’t. Because it’s better this way. You’ll be cruel to the very end, and Jaemin will hate you, forget you, and move on.

You close your eyes, and let Na Jaemin go.

“Of course, Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha is about this whirlwind seaside romance between an uptight dentist from the city and a local handyman that’s able to melt her frigid heart. Have you guys ever experienced that?”

Jaehyun keeps his expression neutral, but you know all eyes are on you. After all, everyone knows that the interviewer is purposefully trying to get a reaction out of you.

You smile serenely, leaning into the microphone in front of you.

“No, I haven’t.”

.

.

.

That night, you make hot chocolate and curl up in bed, playing episodes of Cardcaptor Sakura from your phone.

You close your eyes, hoping to dream of Na Jaemin.

[luvdsc]

resting grinch face.

'tis the season to finally confess your feelings to your best friend!

pairing :: lee donghyuck x reader genre :: fluff ⋮ best friend + college au word count :: 3,774 words warnings :: none. playlist :: all i want for christmas is you (mariah carey) ⋆ oh boy (red velvet) ⋆ i think he knows (taylor swift) ⋆ christmas tree (v) author’s note :: keeping up my collab tradition where i write the entire fic on the day of posting up until the very last minute !!!! much love to lana and moon, i wouldn’t have written anything for the rest of the year if it wasn’t for them ♡ shout out to the absolute cutest @scented-morker​, i saw your reblog tags on our collab post and tried to somewhat incorporate it in here :’) thank you, honey bee, for your support and for making our day with that reblog !! ↳ part of the haechan is a ho! ho! ho! collaboration series.

Today is December 13th. It is the first day of finals week, the day of your god awful ochem final, the birthday of your lord and savior: Taylor Swift, and the day of Nu Chi Theta’s ugly Christmas sweater party because Chenle is a terrible party planner and forgot about it until last minute, and today was the last remaining day the decorations company had available to rent out the ginormous inflatable Santa that’s already been long forgotten and deflated on the front lawn.

Honestly, he should’ve known better as a business major that it would be a sunk cost.

“Y/N!” Your best friend shouts your name over the last belting high note in the holiday diva’s most iconic song, and you look over to see him frantically waving you over in all his ugly Christmas sweater glory. Snatching up one of the gingerbread cookies on your way over, you walk over to him, wearing a matching and equally horrendous sweater with blinking lights and all the bells and whistles sewn in.

“I need a girl for a beer pong buddy, and you’re the only one immune to Jeno.” He gestures towards the boy in question with a scoff, and you glance over at your mutual friend before doing a double take. Ah, so he pulled out the big guns. Literally. Jeno is shirtless, save for a bow that’s stuck to his left shoulder. His partner, Yeeun, stands smugly next to him, idly bouncing one of the plastic balls on the scratched table top.

“Oh yeah. I’m very immune,” you deadpan, still shamelessly staring, and Jeno winks at you before flexing slightly. Rolling his eyes, Donghyuck lets out a huff, grabbing your hand, and you immediately look away, eyes now zeroing in on your interlocked hands.

Damn you, Hyuck, and the dozens of butterflies now residing in my stomach, you curse silently, even though he probably has no idea about your exponentially growing crush on him. You wish there was some sort of Uno reversal you can use in real life because it was so much easier back when you didn’t have to pretend that you’re not totally, completely, irrevocably in love with your best friend.

Why couldn’t the man upstairs let you have a crush on literally anyone else? Okay, wait, scratch that, you take it back, it can’t be anybody else. You don’t want to star on Love After Lockup. But someone like Jaemin maybe. Yeah, Jaemin is a good choice. He’s a nice, respectable boy who never broke any of your mom’s favorite vases. Everyone has a crush on him. Correction: everyone, except you unfortunately.

“Hey, pay attention to me,” Donghyuck whines, shaking your hand around before letting go and depositing a ping pong ball in it. “We have to win or else I owe Jeno and Yeeun a hundred meal points.”

You stare at him again with your signature look (Or, resting Grinch face as Donghyuck likes to call it in the spirit of the holidays). “You don’t have any meal points left.”

“Okay, then we have to win or else you owe Jeno and Yeeun a hundred meal points.”

“… I’m leaving.”

Donghyuck gasps, fully offended. “How can you leave your best friend in a moment of crisis?”

“It’s really easy. Watch.”

Discarding the ball in one of the red cups, you start to walk away, taking only a few steps before your best friend immediately latches onto you like the parasite he is. You really don’t see how this friendship has been beneficial to you in any way. Your best friend is a walking red flag that you really should be avoiding, but unfortunately for you, capture the flag has always been one of your favorite games since you were little.

“I really hoped I didn’t have to resort to this, but…” He sighs dramatically before releasing you and grasping the hem of his sweater. “If I have to exploit myself like Jeno then…”

“Okay, stop, calm down.” You hastily grab his hands, your face feeling hotter than ever when you realize what he’s about to do. “Even though it’s a totally respectable job, you are not gonna become a stripper tonight. I’ll play, alright?”

“Thank god because I’m not as ripped as Jeno.” Donghyuck tosses you a ball. “They’re up first.”

Yeeun starts, knocking out two cups, and the two of you throw them back easily. You stack your cup on top of his empty one, wrinkling your nose at the aftertaste still lingering in your mouth. You’ll never get used to the gross taste of beer. You dip the ball into one of the cups filled with cheap alcohol before raising your arm and aiming for the cup closest to you. Closing one eye, you unknowingly scrunch up your nose, the tip of your tongue sticking out slightly.

“Cute,” Donghyuck mutters, a fond smile growing across his face, and it only widens when you turn towards him with the biggest grin after the ball lands perfectly in your target, spinning around the inside. You high five your best friend and pick up a second ball, easily sinking that one in as well. Two down, eight more to go.

Ten minutes later, with six more cups gone, the two of you are scraping by. Barely. It’s two to three now. You and Yeeun are hardcore hard carrying your respective teams. You forgot just how terrible your friends were at beer pong and were very rudely reminded of it when Jeno’s third throw bounced off of your face like a backboard and landed in the cup (This was also his only win. You don’t know if that’s more humiliating for you or him). This is why you only pair up with Jisung whenever you play these games. The rest of the boys are absolute shit, save for Chenle on a good day.

“Give me a gentleman’s,” you call out and Jeno wordlessly lines up the last two cups for you.

“Hell yeah, we’re gonna win this.” Donghyuck pumps his fist in the air for you. You let out a scoff, eying your friend. “You mean I’m going to win this. You contributed nothing.”

“Not true. I’m like your trophy wife,” he sniffs, waving his hands around for emphasis. “But in a best friend way. I’m beautiful, smart, and talented. I bring up your social status. I’m the gift that keeps on giving.”

“More like the disappointment that keeps on disappointing.”

“I’m filing for divorce.”

“Please do.” Ignoring his indignant squawking, you toss the ball and watch in satisfaction as it goes in, no rim. Last one to go. You draw in a breath, picking up the last ball and aiming it carefully. Then you let it fly. Hook, line, and sinker.

Cheers erupt around you as you let out a squeal, putting your hands out for a double high five, but your best friend apparently has a different idea, pulling you into a hug and crushing you into his chest.

“I take back the divorce. We’re remarried with no prenups. Let’s celebrate and buy a shit ton of mozzarella sticks and chicken strips from the dining hall with our new joint points.”

You start to protest, but your voice is muffled by his jacket. He pats your head. “I know, you’re just so happy that I reconsidered, right?”

You shove him off of you, cheeks burning. “Shut up, Hyuck. Those points are all mine. There’s no joint custody. Our marriage is annulled. Plus, you owe me.”

You stand firm in your decision, watching as Jeno chugs the last cup, and Donghyuck pouts. “But I drank over half of the cups!”

“You drank four and I drank three. It would’ve been my cup next.”

“It’s still more than half.”

“You’re not getting any of my meal points.”

At the thought of food, you suddenly remember the plate of sugar cookies and snickerdoodles in the kitchen along with the pitchers of spiked eggnog. Thank god Taeyong and the other boys in graduate school all came by or else, you’d all be stuck with eating dozens of raw Pillsbury seasonal Christmas tree cookies because someone (read: Jisung) forgot to turn on the oven. Saying a quick goodbye to Yeeun and motioning towards the kitchen, you start to weave your way through the crowd to get to your destination.

“You would let your best friend starve?” Donghyuck has the audacity to look outraged as he follows behind you.

“Yes.”

“Wow, not even a second to pause and think.”

You stop in your tracks, and he bumps into you, teetering slightly before steadying himself. You look over your shoulder. “Okay, I thought about it. The answer is still yes.”

Ignoring his gasp, you face forward again and begin to shove your way through once more. Immediately, Donghyuck reaches out and intertwines his fingers with yours. Heart stopping at that, you nearly trip and are jostled around by the others around you. God is truly testing you tonight. Swallowing hard, you keep moving forward and try to slowly slide your hand out of his before you suffer from another round of erratic heart palpitations. Unlucky for you, your plans are a complete fail when your best friend tightens his grip on your hands almost instantaneously.

“Jesus Christ, just hold my hand properly,” Donghyuck complains, squeezing your hand before he suddenly tugs you back and your back is pressed against his chest. His arms encircle your waist in a back hug, and he still somehow manages to keep holding onto your hand the entire time. You sharply inhale, trying to steady your breathing, as he continues, “I don’t wanna lose you.”

Absolute KO. Fuck. You’re really in deep. He can’t just say and do things like this so casually and not know the effects it has on you. Why couldn’t life just let you happily continue with projecting all your romantic feelings on BTS’s V, instead of making you fall head over heels and flat on your face for your best friend?

Face now hotter than ever, you’re positive that everyone within a five mile radius can hear how loud your heart is pounding. You continue to look straight ahead, ears burning, and tell yourself to focus on the end goal: the snickerdoodles and eggnog.

Unfortunately, your quest for the baked goods is met with another obstacle when you bump into someone. Doyoung turns around, greeting you.

“Y/N, hey!” His smile falters when he sees the koala on your back. The familiar throbbing in his temple returns after nearly a year of it being gone. “Hyuck, you’re here, too.”

Donghyuck blows him a kiss, and Doyoung scoffs before taking a closer look at your sweater. “Are you two matching?”

“Yes!” Your best friend beams before turning his smile up a kilowatt when he untangles himself from you to show off his own knitwear. “But mine has a special accessory I added specifically for you when I heard you were coming.”

Doyoung stares at the item poorly duct taped to the front of his ugly Christmas sweater. “It’s a mirror.”

“Yes.” Donghyuck nods. Your older friend wrinkles his forehead, confused, and you take it as a signal to slowly inch away before all hell breaks loose, quietly pulling your best friend with you. You see the light bulb flashing above his head before Doyoung lunges towards Donghyuck.

“Lee Donghyuck, you—!”

You immediately speed up your pace, dragging your best friend as fast as possible away from his death wish. For someone who claims to be so smart, Donghyuck is going to get himself killed one day.

“I think we’re gonna have to avoid him back home over break, too,” he says casually, and you let out a laugh, agreeing with him.

“Are you carpooling home with me this year too?” you ask over your shoulder. Pulling you into a back hug once more, Donghyuck rests his chin on your shoulder to hear you better, and you go through another series of mini heart attacks.

“Who else is gonna tolerate my car karaoke? We can switch with driving at the two hour mark as usual.” His breath tickles your ear, and once again, you are reminded of the bare amount of space, or lack of, between you both. You wonder if you have the same effect on him as he does to you. Is this even considered normal best friend behavior? The two of you can honestly give Jaemin and Jeno a run for their money.

Speaking of Jaemin, you see him making his way towards the kitchen as well, and he waves at you. You greet him back when you get closer, “Hey, Jaems, wha—”

You’re suddenly thrust forward and nearly find yourself face planting into a random bowl of chili that was abandoned on the counter (It’s a frat house, and you’re a seasoned visitor, so you’re not even going to question it this time). Catching yourself on the counter with your nose inches away from the beans, you whirl around, flabbergasted.

“Literally, what the fuck, Hyuck?”

Donghyuck stares at you like a deer in the headlights, standing in the very spot you occupied less than three seconds ago: right in the doorway next to a gawking Jaemin. And for the first time in all twenty one years of his life, your best friend has nothing to say.

You raise your eyebrow, and he opens his mouth before closing it again. “So you just decided to shove me for no reason?”

“Uh… Um, well, I—”

“HYUCK AND JAEMIN ARE UNDER THE MISTLETOE,” Chenle bellows gleefully, pointing at your two friends and nearly everyone’s heads turn towards their direction. Your best friend’s cheeks immediately become a rosy pink as he starts to stammer incoherently. It’s the second time you’ve seen him at a loss for words. Something is not right with the world; maybe you need to check if pigs are flying outside.

“If you wanted me to kiss you that bad, you could’ve just said so. No need to shove Y/N.” Jaemin teases, chuckling when Donghyuck flushes even darker, various splotches of crimson appearing on his face. Meanwhile, Chenle has started drunkenly chanting “KISS! KISS! KISS!” (Doyoung quickly joins in. Karma is sweet and doesn’t taste like raw Pillsbury dough. Honestly, that’s on him for trusting any food given to him by Donghyuck).

“Shut up, that’s not why I did that!” he exclaims indignantly, and Jaemin’s smile only widens before leaning in so close that their noses are nearly touching. “Oh, so you wanted to kiss me?”

“No!” Donghyuck backpedals so fast he almost hits his head against the side of the doorway. Jaemin glances over at you and winks, much to your best friend’s chagrin. “Care to be his white knight?”

The thought of you kissing Jaemin turns him greener than the Grinch and envy combined, and Donghyuck’s jaw tightens. Before you can formulate any sort of reply, he immediately leans forward and hastily presses a sloppy kiss against Jaemin’s cheek before giving him a resting Grinch face.

“There. Done.”

“So you didn’t want me to kiss Y/N,” Jaemin muses, eyes twinkling with mirth, and Donghyuck gives him a withering look. If looks can kill, Jaemin would be six feet under with the gravestone already set on top. Your best friend stomps over to you, and you’re still gaping at him as he tugs at your arm. He makes sure to grab some cookies and eggnog before pulling you out the back door and away from Public Enemy #1 (Jaemin) and Public Enemy #2 (Chenle). He can still hear Public Enemy #2 yelling that they needed to do a proper kiss.

“I just saved you from a life threatening situation,” he informs you, handing you one of the snickerdoodles before settling down in one of the foldable chairs near the pool. He dunks the remaining one in the cup of eggnog before taking a bite, chewing somewhat angrily.

You furrow your eyebrows, taking a seat next to him and eating the snack. “Kissing Jaemin…?”

Your best friend nods seriously, shoving the rest of the cookie in his mouth before sticking his nose up in the air haughtily. “Yes. What if you started to actually like him? We can’t have that happening. You can only have one trophy wife, and that spot’s been occupied by me since 2000. Jaemin has to find his own Y/N elsewhere because this one is taken.”

Your cheeks grow warm at his declaration, and you laugh it off, finishing the remainder of your cookie and swiping the eggnog from him to take a sip. “Don’t worry, Hyuck. You’re my best friend, and no one can replace you.”

Haechan stays silent, and you glance over at him, carefully putting the cup down on the ground. An unusually serious expression remains on his face, and you tilt your head slightly as you take a better look at him, failing to decipher it.

“Is that all you see me as?”

“I… What do you mean?”

Donghyuck gives you a half smile, twisting one of the bells sewn to his sleeve, “I mean, do you only see me as your best friend?”

Just say it. You want to say it, scream it out, but the words get caught in your throat. He laughs quietly, nervously, and buries his face in his hands for a few moments before looking back at you, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly before carding his fingers through his hair.

“I’m gonna sound crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about you. Am I the only one who feels like I’m about to have a heart attack every time we hold hands? Like fuck, I’m going batshit crazy over here, and I can’t keep it to myself anymore, and I’m sorry for dumping all this on you and ruining our friendship, but when I saw that you might kiss Jaemin, I just—”

You kiss him.

Donghyuck freezes up momentarily as he belatedly realizes that oh my god, you are kissing him. Armed with this mind blowing revelation, he eagerly presses his lips against yours firmly, yet still tenderly. He tugs you closer, pulling you onto his lap, holding you tighter, almost like he’s afraid this is another dream and he’ll wake up and find you gone. Your hands cradle his cheeks delicately, and when you pull away, you’re in absolute awe of just how beautiful your best friend is. His lips have turned the prettiest shade of red, and he looks at you with all the stars and galaxies in his eyes. You gaze at him adoringly before leaning forward and booping your nose against his.

Dazed, he laughs a little breathlessly before reaching for one of your hands and slipping his fingers in between the crevices of yours. “If that’s how you’re gonna shut me up from now on, I’m never gonna stop talking.”

Grinning, you lean forward and give him another kiss for good measure. “I hope that answers your question.”

“Mm, the answer isn’t really clear. I’m gonna need you to clarify it for me,” he says, a shit eating grin on his face, and you roll your eyes before deciding to reuse his earlier words.

“To clarify, I can’t stop thinking about you, like I’m about to have a heart attack every time we hold hands or hug or do anything remotely romantic. Like fuck, I’m going batshit crazy over here, and I can’t keep it to myself anymore, so when are you gonna kiss me and shut me up so I don’t have to keep confessing my feelings and inflating your already massive ego?”

Your best friend laughs out loud as he teases, “Hey, you like me and my massive ego.”

You start to open your mouth to protest, but he finally complies with your request, closing the distance as his lips softly meet yours for a third time. Eyes fluttering shut, you enjoy the moment, pressing your mouth against his, smiling, and you can feel his grin as well. When you reluctantly break the kiss, you plant another one on his cheek affectionately, and he beams at you, the softest starstruck expression on his face.

“For extra clarification,” you start, and he cocks his head to the side, listening attentively. “Will you officially be my trophy wife, not only in a best friend way, but in a boyfriend way, too?”

He lets out a guffaw, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smirk as he drawls, “I don’t know, where’s the diamond ring? Can you afford me?”

“Huh, I guess not. Maybe I should ask Jaemin instead.”

Donghyuck frowns at you. “Take that back right now.”

You shrug, hiding a smile. “I’m just saying, he’s probably less demanding, too. And he won’t mooch off of my Netflix, Amazon, and Hulu accounts.”

“First off, I’m gonna do that regardless,” he says shamelessly without batting an eyelash. “Secondly, you asked me first, and I humbly accept your offer.”

“What if I changed my mind? Have you considered that?”

“Nope, never considered it. There’s no take backs. No returns. You’re stuck with the very best for the rest of your life.”

“Really? Even if I can’t get you a diamond ring?”

“Yes.” Donghyuck nods resolutely with the conviction of a game show contestant locking in their answer for the million dollar prize. He looks you straight in the eye as he declares loudly, “I’m going to be your trophy wife.”

“But I’ll take payments in the form of mozzarella sticks and chicken tenders starting now,” he quickly adds on as an afterthought.

You pretend to think it over until you see the slightest trace of uncertainty in his eyes. He begins to pout, and you relent. “Okay, fine, deal. Let’s go to the dining hall. It closes in an hour.”

He brightens up immediately, and you have to resist the urge to kiss him silly. You get up, pulling him with you and keeping your hand in his, and he happily bounces next to you at the prospect of free food (and at the fact that he can kiss you whenever he wants now). The two of you start to walk towards the side gate when he stops.

“Wait, can we make a quick detour?”

Five minutes later, you and your boyfriend are banned from coming into the frat house until all the mistletoe is taken down from every doorway. Donghyuck grins smugly when the two of you rush past a familiar face down the front porch steps, running away from one very angry looking Doyoung.

Take that, Public Enemy #1.

[luvdsc]

𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 — a luvpuffcore collab.

we’re sorry, but the old luvpuffcore can’t come to the phone right now. why? oh, ‘cause they’re dead!

❝ let me say it again, louder for those in the back... we think we know someone, but the truth is that we only know the version of them that they have chosen to show us. there will be no further explanation. there will be just reputation. ❞ — taylor swift.

↳ a series inspired by taylor swift’s 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫, starring nct’s jaemin and written by CHOERRYPUFFS, LUVDSC, and WINCORE.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓

SONGWRITER lana ⋮ @choerrypuffs​​​​​ RELEASE DATE march 19, 2022 SONG dancing with our hands tied by taylor swift LYRICS as hollywood’s darling, there’s not a single moment where you don’t live your life in front of the lens of a camera. from red carpets to photoshoots to being hounded by paparazzi, you can’t even remember when you last had time to yourself. it’s only when you arrive at a quaint little town by the seaside for a movie shooting that you meet na jaemin—a kind, gentle, and dashingly handsome bookshop owner that has absolutely no idea who you are. his book shop, and jaemin himself, quickly become a place of refuge for you. you’re falling for him, but you know that the two of you could never be. you aren’t cruel enough to subject him to a life like yours, but you’re too selfish to let him go.

PRESS — PLAY.

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

SONGWRITER cat ⋮ @luvdsc​​​ RELEASE DATE december 13, 2024 SONG look what you made me do by taylor swift LYRICS cinderella, she’s all that, the princess diaries, the duff: what do these movies all have in common? answer: a makeover! your life is basically a rom com minus the romance part, but that minor detail will easily be fixed if you can somehow manifest your own modern day fairy godmother. cue your university’s resident it boy: na jaemin, armed with a shiny credit card and mascara wand. the two of you strike up a deal: you’ll be his tutor for economics if he’ll be your tutor for fashion, relationships, and everything in between. so if the glass slipper (read: madewell jeans) doesn't fit… maybe some spandex will help? or alternatively, pretty girls rule the world, and you find out that he’s (not) all that.

PRESS — PAUSE. STOP. PLAY.

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘

SONGWRITER moon ⋮ @wincore​​​​ RELEASE DATE tbd SONG delicate by taylor swift LYRICS yes, it’s true. for only 15,000 won an hour, you can get na jaemin to take you out on the best date of your life! or, what started out as a fake advertisement jaemin’s drunk friends (read: donghyuck & sober help) put up across the campus, somehow turned into a legible business for him. and what more can a broke college student want than extra cash? (hint: it’s shaped a lot like you.)

PRESS — PLAY.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 © 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘𝐏𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐒, 𝐋𝐔𝐕𝐃𝐒𝐂, & 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐.

[luvdsc]

[!] TEASER — barbie girl.

if life is plastic (and therefore, nonbiodegradable), then it’s so not fantastic. honestly, who came up with that? regina george really should’ve googled about the new plastics economy.

or alternatively, pretty girls rule the world, and you find out that he’s (not) all that.

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: comedy, angst, fluff ⋮ makeover + college au word count :: 1,548 out of est. 15k - 20k words warnings :: jujutsu kaisen spoilers, body issues, body image, weight mentions, insecurities, beauty is a social construct, lana and moon taking pity on my extremely lacking anime knowledge and helping me out, so much gaslighting that you can start a wildfire and j*ke gyll*nh*al should take notes, “if a man talks shit then i owe him nothing” playlist :: barbie girl (aqua) ⋆ pretty boys (romi) ⋆ look what you made me do (taylor swift) ⋆ invu (taeyeon) + extended playlist coming soon. author’s note :: i love she’s all that with my whole heart, but i’ve always been very //: at the whole makeover trope and decided to write my own version, so take that as you will !! ↳ part of the 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 collaboration series.

Na Jaemin does not know that you exist.

Good looking, charismatic, and popular — it’s his world, and you’re just living in it. Or something like that. You’re decently smart, somewhat funny, and not pretty enough to stand out, but not exactly hideous according to societal standards (source: those beauty quizzes you used to be obsessed with in  Cosmopolitan when you were thirteen and in desperate need of flirting tips). If he was the main lead, you’d probably be Extra #6, maybe Extra #2 on a good day.

By your calculations, the two of you should never cross paths, like two parallel lines. Wait, scratch that, you would probably never be aligned with anything that has to do with this guy. You saw him standing outside of the door to your shared accounting classroom back in freshman year, and he spent twenty five minutes editing his picture for Instagram and ended up late for the lecture. Absolute idiot. Absolute handsome idiot, but idiot nonetheless. A grade A himbo with a grade C in financial accounting.

Okay, so scrap the parallel lines theory, maybe skew lines are a better way of explaining it. Yeah, that seems about right, the two of you are from completely different dimensions, never meant to interact or run parallel with each other. And once again, by this logic, your paths should never cross.

“Y/N!”

You stand corrected.

Na Jaemin does know that you exist.

You suddenly remember that there was that one small group presentation in that very same aforementioned accounting class, and you were assigned to the same group as Jaemin. Armed with this rediscovered memory, you are going to revise your earlier response and say that the correct descriptor for your relationship is perpendicular lines. That sounds right. Final answer. You’re locking it in.

Your paths should have only intersected once, the two of you should be going in different directions, and even though you’re in another class with him again this semester, not once have the two of you had a proper conversation with each other (He asked you to pass a note once, but that barely counts). Jaemin should have forgotten you by now, and you should be continuing on with your side character life that you’re very much content with.

So then why on earth is he shouting your name like you’re old friends and causing what feels like every person within a one mile radius to stare at you?

He’s unknowingly giving you your main character moment, and you very quickly realize that you do not feel like the Y/N in any one of those Gojo fanfics you read religiously at three in the morning when you should really be studying or sleeping.

Instead, you feel like a bug watching its impending doom as a Doc Marten boot starts to descend at an alarming speed and you can’t even try to scuttle out of the way to avoid it. Frozen in your spot, you can only watch as your university’s it boy skids to a stop in front of you after running across the grass and flashing you his million dollar smile. “Hey, Y/N, right? We have ECON 13 together.”

Starstruck, your mind to mouth filter is completely shot, and all you manage to let out is a very uncool “Uh huh.”

He laughs a little breathlessly, and you feel like all the oxygen has been knocked out of your lungs, too. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, Jaemin tilts his head to the side slightly, the sunlight catching his profile perfectly, and your breath hitches in your throat once more.

“I know this is gonna sound really, uh, forward since we barely know each other and all, but—”

You’re barely listening to him, your heart pounding in your chest and the blood rushing to your ears. It’s pretty embarrassing to see how a near stranger with a pretty face can affect you this much. You really thought you had a much stronger willpower than this, but it’s so goddamn unfair how this boy standing in front of you has the most perfectly sculpted face you’ve ever seen. Plus, his eyelashes? Why the hell do boys always get the prettiest, thickest, and darkest lashes?

Meanwhile, you’re out here struggling to force your perpetually straight, stubby lashes into a curl that ends up lasting only a couple hours, even when you use waterproof mascara. You still end up with flat lashes and you have to feverishly scrub your eyes to remove the blasted makeup and lose a few cherished lashes in the process.

“—out with me?” Jaemin finishes, and you belatedly realize that you did not catch a single word that he said, caught in your inner monologue and too busy ogling. However, your heart flutters in your chest when you catch the last part of his question. Not to be too presumptuous, but it sounds like he’s asking you out. Why else would anyone randomly stop you like this and talk to you for this long? You’re positively giddy at this revelation. This is your moment, the one you’ve been waiting for your whole life, like Rapunzel waiting in her tower for the one to come and save her from her horribly mundane, repetitive life.

“Oh! Um… yes?” It’s a 50/50 chance between yes or no, and you hope that’s the correct answer he’s looking for.

Jaemin’s face immediately brightens, and he turns his smile up another kilowatt, nearly blinding you. You grin back at him, squinting a little. This must be how Icarus felt when he flew towards the sun.

“Oh shit, really? You’re really agreeing to tutor me? Hyuck—you know, our class’s peer TA—said I was a hopeless cause, and I would need way more one on one lessons outside of his hours and all that if I wanted to pass. And yeah, I know I could probably bitch at him until he caves since we’re kind of friends, but he would also hold this over my head, but he said you had the highest score on last week’s midterm, so I thought, ‘hey, why not shoot my shot?’” He shoots another smile your way, pausing for a quick breath. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, and his smile isn’t helping whatsoever as your heart decides to join in this race as well until it sinks when you finally process his words.

“Wait, Donghyuck said that about me?” you manage to get out, a little dazed, and Jaemin confirms before eagerly continuing on with his chatter, but all you can do is stupidly nod as the word “TUTOR” spins around and around in your mind in bold, italicized, underlined mocking red letters in Times New Roman font, size 12, double spaced, MLA format, the whole shebang.

Of course, he only wants a tutor. What made you think that a boy like him would look twice at a girl like you? The only other time a guy has ever expressed interest in you is to share homework answers for Calculus back in 10th grade (For the record, all of his answers were completely wrong, but Sungchan was a cute distraction).

“Anyways, can I have your number? I can text you to match our schedules and figure out the times to meet up for the next couple of weeks before our next midterm.” You remain wide eyed, gazing at him like a deer caught in the headlights and still attempting to fully understand everything that has just happened.

Jaemin looks at you expectantly, his hand outstretched towards you with his phone tucked between his fingers. The device dangles there for an additional ten seconds that probably isn’t socially acceptable. Grab the phone, you scream at yourself silently, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate.

“Or, I can just… uh, type in your number if you tell me,” Jaemin says awkwardly, his smile wilting slightly as he shifts from one foot to the other under your unwavering gaze and slowly retracting his hand. Finally, you come to your senses as you quickly spring into action and snatch the phone from him, tapping in your digits and adding in your name and shared class before saving your contact.

“Here,” you mutter, returning his phone, and he gives you a relieved grin. You clutch onto the strap of your backpack a little tighter, cursing the way your heart skips a beat. “I should be free most weekday afternoons since I prefer to take all morning classes, but let me know when you’re free and we can work something out.”

“Awesome! Thank you so much, Y/N, you’re a life saver.” Jaemin beams at you, touching your shoulder briefly and you feel that very same place on your body erupt in flames as your face heats up in a similar manner. “I’ll text you tonight, yeah?”

You can only numbly nod, subconsciously raising your hand and waving at him, and Jaemin chuckles, flashing his pearly whites at you again, before he saunters off and blends into a group of other equally pretty and popular students, a few of whom look over at you with vague interest before turning their attention back to the boy who just joined them.

What have you gotten yourself into?

PRESS — PLAY.

[choerrypuffs]

oh my angel!

pairing: angel!donghyuck x ballerina!reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 9.3k

synopsis: after losing your role as the sugar plum fairy in the nutcracker due to an injury, you resolve to the spend the rest of your holidays getting drunk and feeling sorry for yourself—that is until your pesky guardian angel shows up, claiming that he’ll find you true love before christmas is over.

author’s note: part of the haechan is a ho ho ho holiday collab! i’m so happy we’re finally able to collab, even if we all suffered while writing this <33333 ps. i only took ballet for two years so i am not an expert by any means, apologies for all inaccuracies 

additional: inspired by the concept of the kdrama angel’s last mission: love (i haven’t actually seen it though LMAO) + the ost oh my angel by chai

❄ DECEMBER 22.

“You have ten seconds to tell me who you are and how you got in here.” 

You’re currently in the middle of a standoff with a stranger in the middle of your living room. A stranger that literally just appeared out of thin air while you were watching Netflix. Raising the wooden bat a little higher over your head, you take a step forward, trying to look as threatening as possible despite how bewildered you are right now. The stranger, or rather the intruder, raises both in hands in surrender. He doesn’t look particularly afraid of you, but he does seem to want to calm you down. 

If you were to go off appearances alone, he would be the last person you’d think would break into someone’s apartment. He has light brown, fluffy hair that reminds of you a labradoodle, wide and bright eyes that blink at you innocently, cherub cheeks that add to his already youthful appearance, and he’s wearing a white hoodie with white sweatpants. There’s also a warm, circular glow above his head, but you just assume that it’s the lighting reflecting off his hair. 

“I already told you,” he starts slowly, “My name is Donghyuck. I’m your guardian angel.” 

You eye him suspiciously. It’s strange because you can tell by his expression that he is being sincere, or at least he believes he’s being sincere. 

“Sir,” you speak to him slowly as well, “I think you’re under the influence of something. I’ll call an ambulance for you.” 

“Come on, Y/N. We’re just wasting time now. The sooner you accept it, the sooner I can help you,” Donghyuck sighs. “You know it’s not possible for a human to materialize into your apartment like I did.” 

Before you can ask him how he knows your name, he walks over to your couch and plops down on it, reaching for the open bag of chips on your coffee table and helping himself to them. 

Even though he didn’t come anywhere near you, his sudden movement frightens you and you jolt backwards, rolling your good ankle and nearly losing your balance. 

“Careful now. Wouldn’t want you to have two broken ankles,” Donghyuck notes casually, still munching on your chips. 

You stare at him in disbelief. The brace you have on your right ankle is hidden under your fleece pajama pants, so there is no way that he was able to notice that you’re already injured.

“How do you know that?” you demand, clutching your bat tighter. 

“Because I’ve been watching you,” he replies breezily before pausing, furrowing his brows. “Oh wait, that didn’t sound right.” 

But it’s too late because you’re already backing up towards your room so you can lock yourself in it and dial 911.

“Wait! Okay, I admit that was probably not the best thing to say at the moment,” he protests quickly. 

“Don’t come near me, you stalker,” you raise your voice as your finger shakily hovers over the last 1 in 911. 

Donghyuck, to his credit, does not get up and continues to maintain a sizable distance between the two of you. He does, however, gasp at your accusation, as if you were the one that just crossed a line. “That is so rude! I’ll have you know that I am in line to become an Archangel, one of the highest ranks an angel can hold in Heaven, and I will not stand for a lowly human reducing me to someㅡsomeㅡ” 

He stops halfway and sniffles like he is actually hurt by your words, and you can’t help but gawk at him incredulously. 

“Anyways, I have proof,” he claims, pointing to the top of his head. “I have a halo, see?”  

That circular glow above his head beams a little brighter, and even you have to admit that it’s definitely not the lighting of your apartment reflecting off his hair anymore.

“Where are your wings?” you ask, not sure why you’re even entertaining this insanity. For some reason, a small, teensy, microscopic part of you sort of believes him. 

He winces, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Yeah, see, that’s kind of the reason why I’m here.”

Donghyuck pauses to get your reaction, and you give him a small nod to go on. You keep your finger over the dial button on your phone, 911 punched into your keypad, and an iron grip on your bat. 

“My wings were taken away as a part of my final test to become an Archangel, and I will only get them back once I complete my mission,” he explains. “But they’ll be upgraded! You see, I used to have these plain, baby wings, but after this, I’m getting beautifulㅡ”

“What’s your mission?” you interrupt. He looks a little miffed that you cut him off, but he quickly clears his throat and straightens his posture. 

“I have to find you true love before Christmas is over,” he proclaims proudly, pointing at you.

His bold declaration is met with stone cold silence from you.

“Oh wow, okay. I was expecting a little more excitement, but that’s alright. We’ll work on it,” Donghyuck says cheerfully, clapping his hands together. 

“What if I refuse?” you finally ask. 

In your whole twenty-something years of living, you have never once thought about romance or dating or anything of that sort. You’ve been doing ballet since the day you could walk and have dedicated your entire life to it, spending every minute of your free time outside of school at rehearsals and forgoing typical social events a person your age would have experienced. In other words, you eat, breathe, and sleep ballet.

And look where that’s gotten you, you think to yourself wryly. As if on cue, your hurt ankle sends a jolt of pain up your leg. Whether it’s from the pain or your own frustration, you feel tears well up in your eyes. 

You had gotten into the ballet company of your dreams, worked your ass off for years, and finally landed the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy in The Nutcracker—only to have it all go down the drain after a careless mistake during rehearsal two days ago, which caused you to fracture your ankle. What’s even more infuriating is that you didn’t even fully snap your ankle. It was just a fracture, not severe enough to keep you from walking but severe enough to keep you from dancing. 

Hence the reason why you’re alone in your apartment dealing with this freak instead of performing at the evening show.

“Not my problem. That’s between you and God,” Donghyuck shrugs, interrupting your pity party. If he notices that you’re on the verge of crying, he doesn’t say anything. “All I can tell you is that my mission is to find you true love, and that’s what I’m gonna do.” 

“You’re not gonna do anything,” you snap back. 

“If you want to get rid of me, then I’ll have to. Because I can’t go back until my mission is done, and that means I’ll just have to haunt you forever if I don’t complete it. Like a ghost. Booooo!” Donghyuck sticks his hands out, wriggles his fingers, and sways his head from side to side, poorly mimicking a ghost.

“You’re lying,” you accuse, but it sounds more like a wish than a statement. At this point, you’re wishing that he’s just some crazy man on drugs, but nothing about him adds up. You’d never thought you’d ever think like this, but Donghyuck is stranger than any crackhead. 

This time, he doesn’t look offended by your words, but rather, he raises an eyebrow with an expression on his face that can only mean really?

“Angels can’t lie,” he retorts, “That’s a sin. Duh.”

“I’ll just call the cops,” you say with one last sliver of hope, but you hold up your phone half-heartedly as if you’re already starting to resign yourself to this bonkers situation of yours.

“Well, you could, but I’ll go ahead and warn you that no one can see me except for you at the moment. Not that my words mean anything because you humans always have this strange tendency to never believe anything until you make fools of yourselves, so go ahead, I suppose,” he sighs, “but don’t say I didn’t try to stop you.” 

“Am I the crazy one?” you gasp. “Is that why I’m the only one who can see you?”

Donghyuck sighs again, rubbing his temples. You start to wonder if angels even get headaches before catching yourself.

Holy shit. I’m actually starting to believe all of this. 

Did losing your role as the Sugar Plum Fairy really affect you this much?

Yes, a small part of you answers.

“It’s always one thing or another with you humans,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Listen carefully. You are not crazy. Humans can only see angels when we allow them to, and as I already explained, I have a mission to complete so I need you to see me.”

What he’s saying makes…logical sense, you suppose, but at this point, you’re not really sure what logic is. 

Donghyuck takes your silence as understanding and grins. “Great! I’m glad we can finally move on from this mess. Now then, we’ll get started officially tomorrow, since it’s quite late now. But before I go, do you have any pressing questions?” 

You’re impressed at how abruptly he can decide to both show up and leave, but you don’t want him to go without getting any more information.

“S-So, you’ve been, like, watching over me since birth?” you ask tentatively. 

He throws his head back and laughs. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no. I’ve been watching over you since, like, two days ago. You’ll be delighted to know that, for time’s sake, I only got a briefing on your current situation, not your whole life story.”

You are delighted that he doesn’t have any embarrassing stories from your childhood to hold over your head, but you’re still confused. “Whaㅡaren’t guardian angels supposed to be with you since birth?” 

“Yeah, well, we’re a little shorthanded right now, so He’s only sending us to people who really need us,” he shrugs. 

“Who?” 

Donghyuck stares at you like he can’t believe you’re seriously asking before pointing up, “Him. God.” 

It takes you a second to realize what he means before the lightbulb finally goes off. “Oh. Him. Wait, am I really that much of a mess that God has decided I need a guardian angel?” 

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow and gestures around your apartment. 

There’s laundry (both clean and unclean) strewn across various pieces of furniture, dirty dishes piled in the sink, empty takeout boxes littered on your kitchen counter, junk food laid out on your coffee table, and not to mention the plethora of beer cans as well. 

The state of your apartment reflects your mental state as well, as you’ve spent the past two days holed up here doing nothing except crying, eating and drinking your feelings away, and binge watching trashy reality shows.

“Point taken,” you acknowledge, “but I still think it’s a bit overkill to assume I need divine intervention.”

“What you need is a break from ballet,” Donghyuck points out, “and because of your personality, you, in turn, need divine intervention to force you to do it.”

“Well, I was already taking a break before you even showed up,” you say wryly, pointing at your ankle. Just to torture yourself some more, you purposefully put weight on it and get even more irritated when it actually starts to hurt.

He observes you for just a brief moment before putting your chips down and getting up from the couch, patting the spot he was just in. “Sit down, get some rest, and I will see you tomorrow morning.” 

“Where are you going?” you ask him warily as he walks towards your door. 

He shrugs. “Not sure. Might go wander around the city for a while.” 

“Doㅡ” you inhale, unable to believe that you’re about to do this. “Do you have a place to stay?”

You’d like to think that your sense of danger is rather high, but right now, you’re basically begging to be turned into a crime documentary. You’re not sure why, but you don’t feel in danger around him. Maybe it’s because he might really be an angel.

“Angels don’t need to sleep, so no,” Donghyuck replies before raising an eyebrow. “Were you going to offer to let me stay here?” 

“No,” you mutter, looking away. 

“It’s a good thing that I am a celestial being and have no interest in lower lifeforms,” he says, closing his eyes and placing a hand over his chest, acting as if he were some sort of holy saint. 

All you can do is stare at him, baffled by his frivolity. 

“Though, I will give you a word of advice: never, ever offer your home to a human man!” Donghyuck suddenly shouts, snapping his eyes open. “They are bottomfeeders, the lowest of the low, absolute degenerates. Never let them step foot in your home, even if you think you know them. A human man can never be trusted.”

Before you have time to react, he turns around and walks through your door, like a ghost passing through walls. He does it so casually and smoothly that you almost question if the door was really there in the first place. Once he’s gone, you shakily walk over to your couch and collapse onto it. 

Your head spins as you try to process everything that just happened, racking your brain for possible explanations.

 Sleep deprivation? Contaminated water? Accidental ingestion of a weed brownie? Gas leak? 

“Maybe that’s it,” you tell yourself, snapping your fingers. Standing back up, you begin to search your apartment for a possible gas leak. 

You manage to take about three steps forward when Donghyuck’s face pops through your door again. 

Letting out a piercing shriek, you fall back onto the couch. “What the fuck!” 

Donghyuck, for some reason, chose to only phase his face through the door. So from your perspective, all you can see is his face, without the rest of his body, stuck in the middle of the doorㅡcreating a terrifying image.

“Such foul language,” he chides, shaking his head and looking even scarier as his face goes in and out of the door. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you hiss, feeling like your heart is in your throat.

“What do you mean?” He blinks innocently, but he has a stupid grin on his face.

You look around for something to throw at him, but Donghyuck proceeds to stick his arm through the door as well. You notice that there’s a dim light in the palm of his hand and squint to get a better look. 

“I forgot to give this to you earlier, and I really don’t feel like doing this all over again tomorrow,” he says, “so hold onto this as proof that you did not hallucinate everything that happened today.” 

“What is it?” you ask, slowly getting up and walking towards him. As you get closer, you realize that it’s a feather. About two inches long and a brilliant white, the feather is also emitting a soft glow. You’re not sure how to describe it, but this feather is definitely not of the Earth. It shines with a radiance that makes it appear as if it were handcrafted by stars in a constellation.

“A feather from my old wings. I’m keeping it as a memento since I’ll be getting new ones after this,” he explains. “Don’t lose it. It’s my most precious possession at the moment.”

“Why would you give me something so important?” you breathe. The feather is so beautiful that you’re afraid to touch it.

“Well, if this is going to work, we need to establish mutual trust, so consider it a peace offering,” he replies, reaching forward and placing the feather in your hand. You’re actually somewhat touched that he’s willing to go to such lengths to prove himself to you. 

“I’m taking it back once I finish my mission though,” Donghyuck adds quickly. “So, don’t get any ideas about selling it or anything.”

You roll your eyes, chiding yourself for believing that he would do something sweet without being annoying. 

“Okay, bye for real now!” Donghyuck sticks both his arms out and wriggles them like Squidward from Spongebob before slowly phasing back out of your door. 

You continue to be stunned by his peculiarity, but you don’t linger on it too much anymore because a wave of exhaustion hits you, and you feel an oncoming migraine coming on. Your brain is too fried to continue to think about all of this, so you just trudge into your bathroom to get ready for bed. After you’re done with your nighttime routine, you carefully place the feather in a glass jewelry box on your vanity before crawling into bed.

As you slowly begin to drift off, you mumble one last thing. 

“Please let this all be a dream.”

But you know that even the deepest depths of your subconscious couldn’t come up with something like this.

❄ DECEMBER 23. 

The next morning, you’re awoken by the smell of bacon wafting into your room, which immediately makes you shoot up in bed with alarm. You sit there for a moment, trying to figure out who would be in your apartment, before all the gears in your head click and you remember everything that happened. You glance over at your vanity and see the feather still in your jewelry box.

You sigh loudly, running a hand through your bedhead.

“I cannot believe this is actually happening,” you mutter to yourself. You’re not sure what the mix of emotions you’re feeling right now are, but you don’t have the energy to continue to fight the anomaly that is Donghyuck. Shoulders slumped in defeat, you kick your covers off and change into a ratty t-shirt and some fleece leggings. Once you’re somewhat presentable, you crack open the door to your room and peek out.

For a moment, you don’t even recognize your own home. Your dirty laundry has been washed and is neatly folded on your couch, all of the trash littered everywhere is completely gone, your carpet has been vacuumed, the tile floor has been mopped, and the interior of your apartment is basically sparkling.

You can hear faint humming from the kitchen, along with the sizzling of a pan. Walking towards it, you see Donghyuck with his back to you as he puts two sunny side up eggs onto a plate alongside two pieces of bacon. He carefully arranges them so they make a smiley face and he steps back to admire his work.

“What are you doing?” you ask suddenly, trying to scare him like he did to you yesterday.

To your annoyance, Donghyuck just turns around and beams. “Good morning! I made you bacon and eggs!”

He holds up the plate proudly, and he looks so excited that you can’t help but give him a small smile.

“You didn’t make any for yourself?” you ask, furrowing your brow when you realize there’s only one plate.

“Angels don’t need to eat,” he responds nonchalantly.

“But you were eating my chips last night!”

“We don’t need to eat, but sometimes, when there’s a chip flavor that we haven’t heard of before,” he starts sheepishly, “then we might indulge.”

When you glare at him, he puts the plate next to his face and smiles, trying to imitate it. You wonder if angels have the power to mysteriously quell your anger by acting ridiculous because Donghyuck has been doing it since he materialized into your apartment last night.

“Well, thanks for the breakfast,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. Even though you’re still slightly irritated, you thank him with sincerity. You can’t even remember the last time someone made you breakfast. “So, I see you’ve been busy.”

You gesture to the rest of your apartment.

“Yeah. I figured my first order of business would be to make your living space less of a potentially radioactive hazard zone,” he nods.

You decide to let that one slide because he was the one who cleaned everything up and also made you breakfast. And also because it’s a little bit true.

After setting your plate down on the table, you head to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. While you’re doing so, you hear your TV turn on and the corny dialogue of a Hallmark movie begins to play. When you emerge from the bathroom, Donghyuck is sitting cross-legged on your couch, completely immersed.

“You like watching Hallmark movies? Do angels even have TV up there?” you ask, sitting down next to him with your plate and a fork.

“We don’t, but I do enjoy watching movies during my free time while I’m on missions,” he answers.

“What are some of your favorite movies?”

You wonder if the you from just two days ago could ever even fathom that you’d be sitting here now, asking your guardian angel what his favorite movies are.

“Hm,” he pauses to think, “I really liked The Notebook, Twilight, The Kissing Booth…”

You burst into laughter, nearly choking on your bacon. You can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed this hard. Then again, you can’t remember the last time you smiled in general.

“What?” he asks, confused, pausing the movie currently playing.

“You have the same taste in movies as a teenage girl,” you tease.

“But they’re so romantic!” he protests. “Don’t you humans love those mushy-gushy stuff?”

“If those movies are your idea of romance, then there is no way you’re going to be able to find my true love before Christmas,” you snort. “Speaking of, how exactly are you going to do that? True love is a bit of a vague parameter, isn’t it?”

“Well, I’m not expecting you to get married and have kids with him,” he explains, “I just need to find someone that you can see a future with, who makes you happy, someone that you can grow to truly fall in love with.”

“Now, that sounds like a direct quote from one of your romcoms,” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

“You say that, but if there’s anything you humans are good at, it’s falling in love instantly,” Donghyuck shoots back, “You get so caught up in your emotions, and you feel so strongly. You blow everything out of proportion and act like the world is ending. You spend your entire, short lives on those…those feelings.”

He delivers his words like he’s simply just poking fun at you, but his expression is wistful. Even though he looks young, his eyes show his age. You’re not sure if angels age, but you can tell that he’s been around for a long, long time. His eyes are two pools of amber, impossibly deep, and they look like portals to other galaxies. Galaxies that he’s traversed, galaxies that he watched be created, galaxies that he watched burn.

As you gaze into his eyes, Donghyuck has never looked more alone.

“Are you…jealous?” you ask softly. You wanted to say it as a joke, but it comes out more like a revelation.

He blinks, and his eyes revert back to a plain brown that any typical human would have. It’s probably for the better that he masks his true eyes because they suck you in like vortexes. Still, that doesn’t mean you don’t want to see them again.

“There’s a difference between observing humans and wanting to be one.” He dodges your question.

You want to press him for more, but he quickly changes the subject. “Anyways, I wouldn’t be this relaxed if I didn’t already have someone in mind for you.”

Unfortunately, that is enough to effectively distract you. “Who?”

“Na Jaemin.”

You start to laugh again before you realize that he’s not joking. “You’re kidding.”

You’ve known Jaemin since the two of you were fresh out of the womb, and he’s been your dance partner for more than a decade. While he is undeniably attractive, both in looks and personality, you’ve never once had any romantic interest in him, and you are certain Jaemin feels the same way.

“Are you opposed to dating him?” Donghyuck asks curiously.

You pause. It’s not that you necessarily oppose it, it’s just that you’ve never once considered it because it’s never been in the realm of possibility for you. “I guess notㅡ”

“Good! Because I think you two could be quite compatible.”

“Sure we are. Platonically. Come on, Donghyuck. I’ve known him forever, he’s been my dance partner for ten plus years,” you say, shaking your head. “If either of us liked each other like that, something would’ve happened already.”

“You’re right, the childhood friend never gets the girl in the movies, but I’m here to pull off a Christmas miracle,” Donghyuck replies happily.

“Aren’t you the one who told me all men are degenerate scum?” You raise an eyebrow. “And now you’re trying so hard to get me with one?”

“Well, it’s not my fault that you like men, now is it?”

You hate it when he’s right.

“Besides, it won’t be that hard for me because Jaemin is head-over-heels in love with you, and I applaud his patience for being able to deal with you for so long,” Donghyuck says casually.

“What is that supposed to mean?” you demand.

“You are the grouchiest grouch of all grouches, not to mention extremely stubborn with a one-track mind that can’t see anything other than ballet. It’s no wonder why you haven’t noticed Jaemin’s feelings for you,” he sighs.

You open your mouth to defend yourself, but Donghyuck continues talking. “However, despite everything, buried deep within, you’re secretly a sensitive and wonderfully thoughtful person. No matter how tough you try to act. You feel almost as much as those movies you make fun of, and it’s clear as day for anyone who takes the time to look. And Jaemin has. That’s why he loves you.”

You’re stunned by his sudden and genuine compliment, feeling warmth bloom in your cheeks. You brace for another one of his one-two punch jokes, but it never comes.

“Y-You are so corny,” you fumble, “You’ve only known me for, like, one-and-a-half days. You literally know nothing about me.”

“Technically, I’ve known you for three days. You’ve known me for about one-and-a-half,” Donghyuck corrects. “And give me some credit now. I know enough. I haven’t been for long, but I’m still your guardian angel. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t truly believe in you.”

You feel your face get hotter. How long has it been since anyone has said to you? Ballet isn’t exactly about uplifting each other, rather, it’s about precision and perfection. One mistake and it’s over. You’ve forgotten what it feels like to simply be believed in.

“Stop being nice to me,” you say weakly, “it’s freaking me out.”

“I’m buttering you up right now because I’m about to tell you what I want you to do for tomorrow,” Donghyuck admits sweetly.

All of your previous sentimental emotions are wiped clean like marker on a dry erase board, and you’re immediately suspicious, setting down your plate of food because you have a feeling you might have the urge to fling it at him. “What are you up to?”

“Weeell, as you know, your ballet company is holding a Christmas Eve cast party tomorrow, and I think you should go,” he says excitedly.

“Absolutely not,” you snap immediately. You wish he had said something that made you want to throw your eggs at him. At least then, you’d be angry at him and not yourself.

“Why not?” he whines, slightly pouting at how quickly you shoot him down. “Don’t you want to see Jaemin and the rest of your friends?”

“Friend,” you correct, “singular. Jaemin is the only friend there I haveㅡ”

“Probably because you’re too awkward to initiate a conversation with anyone else,” Donghyuck interjects.

“It’s a party for the cast,” you ignore him. “I’m not part of the cast anymore, so why should I go?”

“Just because you’re injured doesn’t mean you’re any less part of the cast. Besides, you can’t just hide in your room forever,” he points out, “What are you going to do when you recover? Just go back to rehearsals like normal and act like nothing happened?”

“Yes,” you answer like it’s obvious, “I feel like that’s a reasonable way to handle it.”

“They’re worried about you,” he sighs, “especially Jaemin. You haven’t been answering any of his texts or calls. And you ignored him when he came by to check on you.”

“How the hell do you know that?” you demand.

“I told you I know everything about this whole situation already, and stop trying to change the subject,” Donghyuck immediately catches you.

“You just want me to go because you want to set me up with Jaemin,” you sneer. It comes out a little more mean-spirited than you would like, but it’s still true. “Why do you care about how I deal with my problems?”

“Yes, that is part of it,” he admits, “but, regardless of my mission, I’m still your guardian angel above all else. I want the best for you. You’re letting this injury run your life, and it’s turning you into a coward. You didn’t get this far by being a coward, Y/N. You need to face it. You’re gonna show up to that party with your head held high, and you’re going to tell them that you may be down for now, but you won’t be for long.”

“You always talk like you’re straight out of a Hallmark movie,” you grumble.

“And you humans eat it up every year,” Donghyuck counters, grinning.

“Whatever,” you relent, “I can’t believe I’m about to show up to the cast party when I literally didn’t even get to put on my costume before I got hurt.”

You watch his eyes literally light up, as he leans forward excitedly. “So this means you’ll go? Yay! This is gonna be so fun, I have so much plannedㅡwait, what?”

He stops mid-fist pump. “You never put on your costume?”

“Nope,” you answer, “it was still in alterations, and then I ended up getting injured right before my fitting. You know what’s even worse? My understudy wasn’t the same size as me, so they ended up just giving me the costume as a sad consolation gift or something. Just to rub salt in my wound a little more.”

“You have your costume?”

You nod bitterly.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go put it on!” He quickly shoos you off the couch.

“Whaㅡno! That’s weird,” you protest.

“You should try it on at least once,” he says firmly, pointing to your room.

“Why would I try it on when I didn’t even get to perform?” you sigh.

“This is part of your healing process,” he replies solemnly.

“Okay, now you’re just making shit up.” You cross your arms.

“An angel never lies.” He raises his hand like he’s swearing an oath.

Per usual, you give up trying to argue with him and just trudge back to your room. You shoved your costume into the very back of your closet, not wanting to ever look at it again but unable to burn it or throw it away. In addition, it’s also stuffed haphazardly into a crinkly plastic bag. When you finally take it out, it’s a bit wrinkled and bent out of shape, but it still looks stunning. Your costume is a powder pink leotard with rhinestones encrusted on the neckline and golden boning and floral embroidery adorning it along with a matching pink tutuㅡthe poofy and sparkly one that you used to dream about dancing in.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a teardrop hits the tulle of the tutu. Oh, how badly you wished you could have performed in this costume.

Swiping your eyes with the back of your arm, you slowly begin to put on the pieces one by one. You put on the leotard first, then the tutu, slip on the separate arm puffs that are meant to mirror off the shoulder sleeves, and then, finally, you fasten the crown on your head.

You stare in the mirror for a long time, trying to understand the mix of emotions whirling around in your heart. To your surprise, you actually feel pretty. Unlike before, you aren’t so angry at yourself anymore. You’re still sad, but it’s not the hysterical sobbing like you had experienced for the past two days. It’s more a melancholia for what could have been.

But it’s not a feeling that you particularly dislike. It feels…natural.

Taking a deep breath in, you turn away and finally step out to show Donghyuck. He’s watching the Hallmark movie again, but once he notices you in his peripheral, he grabs the remote and pauses it again. “There’s our Sugar Plum Faㅡ”

He stops talking abruptly as you walk closer and he gets a full view of you. His jaw is slack as he continues to take you in, and you can see the sparkle of your costume reflecting from his eyes. His halo, which he had been keeping under wraps as a nice healthy gloss over his hair, glows a little brighter and then quickly dims again as if he lost control over it for a second.

“You look beautiful,” Donghyuck says after a long moment of silence. His voice is so quiet that you can barely hear him, but it still makes your face get warm. You didn’t need him to tell you you’re beautiful, but hearing him compliment you makes your heart do somersaults.

“Yeah, well, you’re the first and last person to see me in this, so drink it in while you can,” you blurt quickly, trying to hide how embarrassed you are and hoping your voice is loud enough to cover up the pounding of your heart.

“It is a shame that you couldn’t perform,” he says, “because you would’ve been stunning.”

Donghyuck smiles at you gently, so impossibly gentle and kind. No human could ever look at you the way he’s looking at you right now. You can see how lonely his gaze is, yet it is so incredibly warm as well. He’s lived for so long, but he continues to have so much love within him.

“When I recover and you become an Archangel,” you whisper, taking a small step closer, “you should come back and watch me perform.”

He blinks in surprise. “I…no one’s ever asked me to come back before.”

“Are you allowed to?”

“I guess there’s no rule that says we can’t,” he ponders aloud.

“Then it’s a promise.” In a great burst of courage, you take a seat down next to him, way closer than you were before, with your shoulder only inches away from his. You hold out your pinky.

He smiles and loops his pinky with yours. “Pinky promise.”

This is the first time you’ve ever had physical contact with him, and you’re surprised at how warm his touch is. You weren’t expecting him to be ice cold like a vampire, but his warmth feels so much like a human that it jars you. So human, yet not at the same time. His warmth lingers on your skin like a perfume, a fleeting feeling that you have to chase. As if it was a reminder that this is all temporary.

“And Y/N?” His voice jolts you out of your trance and you quickly pull your hand away.

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?” you ask, wondering if you missed him saying something.

“I’m glad you’re finally looking forward to performing again.” He smiles again, and you can’t take exposure to that smile at such close distance without feeling like your heart is going to explode, so you just lightly shove him and stand up.

“You’re being corny again,” you mutter, flustered. “The costume is starting to pinch. I’m going to change now.”

Without looking at him again, you make a beeline for your room. Once you close the door behind you, you put your hands on your cheeks and try to cool your warm cheeks. Attempting to calm yourself down, you do some breathing exercises to even your heart rate.

“Holy shit, I need to go outside and touch some grass,” you breathe to yourself.

When you look up, you catch yourself in the mirror again. Noticing a stray lock of hair that fell from your bun, you tuck the piece behind your ear and, to your own astonishment, you start to smile.

Go outside. Touch some grass. Perform again.

You may be down for now, but not for long.

❄ DECEMBER 24.

“Wait, you’re coming too?”

Donghyuck is standing in front of you, wearing an oversized, ugly Christmas sweater with an angel made out of tinsel and fairy lights on the front. The grandeur of his sweater makes your own snowman sweater pale (no pun intended) in comparison. You suddenly feel upstaged by your own guardian angel.

“Yes, I’m going to be your plus one. I need to ensure that my plan goes accordingly,” Donghyuck grins mischievously.

“Not sure I even should ask, but what’s your plan?” You narrow your eyes.

“Why, I’m glad you asked,” he says, letting out an evil laugh, “I’m calling it Operation: M-Double J!”

“And what the hell is that?” you ask, already feeling tired.

“Make Jaemin Jealous, also known as MJJ, thus Operation: M-Double J is born,” he reveals.

You give him an unimpressed eye roll. “Your grand plan is to make Jaemin jealous?”

Speaking of Jaemin, you had completely forgotten to respond to his texts. He’s probably really worried, and you feel slightly guilty about it, so you quickly whip out your phone while Donghyuck rambles on and shoot him a quick text telling him that you’ll be at the party. You wait for a second, expecting a fast response because Jaemin always gets back to you immediately, but there’s no answer. Shrugging, you put your phone away and decide to just see him at the party.

“It’s a very effective technique. That’s why all of the movies and dramas use it,” Donghyuck is still going, “I’m going to show up to the party as your mysterious plus one, and Jaemin will worry about the status of our relationship, and it will force his hand, and he will confess his love for you in an act of desperation to keep you by his side!”

“I think you’re foaming at the mouth,” you deadpan.

“Very funny. Angels don’t foam at the mouth,” he retorts.

“Jaemin hasn’t made a move on me in the twenty-something years we’ve known each other, so what makes you think this will work?” you ask.

“Because he’s never had that push!” Donghyuck exclaims. “So, I have no choice but to become that push.”

“Whatever you say,” you reply, “but I have a feeling you’re going to be stuck on Earth for a while.”

Amazingly, you don’t hate the notion.

.

.

.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” you groan, as the two of you walk up to the doors at the ballet company. “Can we please leave? I’ll literally just ask Jaemin on a date instead.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Donghyuck replies sweetly, grabbing your arm and looping it through his. It looks gentlemanly, but it’s just to keep you from running. You do an experimental tug just to test it, but his hold on you is too strong.

He basically drags you into the building and leads you to the room where the party is taking place. The room is decked out in lights, tinsel, wreaths, and much to your dreadㅡmistletoe. The room is bustling with people (dancers, musicians, and instructors alike) and every single one of them stops and stares when the two of you enter. Of course, most of them had been present when you infamously got injured.

“Y/N!” Someone pushes through the crowd of people and rushes forward to envelop you in a tight hug.

Kim Jisoo, your understudy and the one who ultimately played the Sugar Plum Fairy, squeezes you so tight that it’s slightly painful. When she pulls back, there are tears in her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here! How are you feeling? Does your ankle hurt?”

Despite how upset you were over losing the role, you had still been happy for Jisoo. She’s a genuinely sweet girl, and you’ve never had any ill will towards her. You don’t speak to her much, because of your own awkwardness and also because she’s so popular, but she’s always kind to you.

“I’m fine, Jisoo. Thank you,” you smile. “I’m sorry I couldn’t watch you perform.”

“It’s no problem at all. I completely understand,” she assures you, “but poor Jaemin. He was worried sick! It sucks that he didn’t come todayㅡ”

“Y/N!”

This time, someone calls you from behind, and you turn around just in time to have Jaemin pick you up in another hug. He lifts you off your feet completely, one hand on your waist and the other tangled in your hair, as he buries his face in your shoulder.

“You asshole. You scared the shit out of me,” Jaemin mutters, “You couldn’t answer one text to let me know you were okay?”

You give him a few pats on the back. “Calm down and put me down. It’s not like I just came back from war.”

Jaemin lets out a small laugh and sets you down. Carding a hand through his messy hair, he shakes his head at you. “Seriously though. Don’t ever do that again.”

As you get a better look at him, you realize that he’s sweating and out of breath. He’s wearing his favorite lounging hoodie, something that he would never get caught dead in public with, and sweatpants that he’s owned since high school. Basically, he’s wearing his pajamas with a trench coat thrown over it.

“Why are you panting and why do you look like a hot mess?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, thanks to that last minute text from someone, I didn’t exactly have time to throw together a cute outfit,” Jaemin says wryly, reaching over and pinching your cheek. He grins when you slap his hand away, and you can see how happy he is that you’re here. How relieved he is that you’re okay. How much he cares for you.

Ah.

It’s been so obvious this whole time, hasn’t it?

You’re not sure how you didn’t realize all this time, but Na Jaemin loves you.

“Who’s this?” Jaemin asks, turning his attention towards Donghyuck, who had been quietly observing the whole time.

Donghyuk reaches over and wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you towards him. “Donghyuck. I’m Y/N’s plus one. Nice to meet you, Jaemin.”

Jaemin looks at him and then glances back at you, puzzled. If you had another friend you were close enough with to bring to a party, he would’ve definitely known about them.

You can’t think of an explanation, so all you do is nod and smile.

Jaemin, even though he clearly isn’t buying it, is too polite to ignore Donghyuck, so he gives the latter a curt nod. “Nice to meet you, Donghyuck.”

There’s an awkward pause before Donghyuck turns to you, a cheery smile on his face. “Are you thirsty, Y/N? I saw spiked eggnog in the back.”

Without waiting for an answer, he drags you towards the refreshment table in the back of the room. Jaemin moves forward like he’s going to follow but hesitates a second too long, and the two of you disappear within the crowd.

“What are you planning, you conniving little shit?” you ask through grit teeth, so no one can hear you.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Donghyuck responds in a sing-song voice, “especially since everything is going according to plan. He looked at you like a kicked puppy and then looked at me like he wanted to bite my head off!”

“You sound unhinged.”

“Anyways, this is perfect. We just need to stay in his line of vision, not close enough for him to hear us, but enough for him to keep getting bothered by us,” he explains, “Here, laugh while I pour you some eggnog.”

“I don’t think me laughing like a maniac is going to make him burn with jealousy,” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you are so naive, little Y/N.” Donghyuck reaches for a paper cup to pour the eggnog, but the moment his hand touches it, the people around you begin to whoop and clap. You also hear a couple of high-pitched ooooohs. The two of you look around confused as to why people are starting to turn and stare, until you make eye contact with Jisoo, who is giddily pointing to above you. You crane your neck and feel your blood run cold when you realize there’s a mistletoe taped to the wall, right above the eggnog.

“Who puts mistletoe over eggnog?” you hiss under your breath.

There’s no answer to your question because the crowd, much to your dismay, starts to chant “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Donghyuck looks at you like a deer in headlights, and you think this is the first time he’s ever looked so caught-off-guard, completely helpless. The chanting grows louder, and you know that simply walking away would make things ten times worse, so you decide to just take one for the team.

Grabbing Donghyuck’s face, you tilt it to the side slightly before standing on your tiptoes and kissing him. Your hands cup his smooth cheeks as you bring him closer to you, coaxing his lips with your own. His heart-shaped lips feel like what everyone believes clouds would feel like: plush and soft.

Donghyuck stiffens and stands there frozen for just a moment before slowly placing his hands on your waist and kissing you back. You start to pull away after a few seconds more, feeling like that was enough to satisfy the crowd, but he tugs you flush against him. Even though you’re surprised, your arms instinctively come back up and wrap themselves around his neck. Inhaling sharply through your nose, you run your fingers through his fluffy hair, trying to take in as many aspects about him as possible. You kiss him like this will be the last time you’ll ever be able to again. Like he’ll disappear at any moment. Like he’s your guardian angel that you shouldn’t have feelings for.

As if he heard your thoughts, Donghyuck puts both his hands on your shoulders and shoves himself away from you. His eyes are a vibrant amber as he stares at you, wide-eyed and disoriented. You can see his halo in almost its entirety, but luckily, everyone seems to have stopped paying attention already. His chest rises up and down rapidly, like he can’t catch his breath, even though he’s not human.

You’re just as dazed and confused, not exactly sure what came over the two of you, and you only sober up when you notice Jaemin’s expression over Donghyuck’s shoulder. You lock eyes with Jaemin, and you swear you can see his heart fracture down the middle. He’s never looked more pained, not even when he popped his hip out of its socket during a dance.

Suddenly, you feel as if you had been splashed with ice cold water.

“Donghyuckㅡ” you start.

“All according to the plan,” he says immediately, giving you a strained smile. “Right?”

If you had been splashed with water before, now you feel as if you were just slapped in the face. You suppose this is what getting rejected is like, but what exactly did the two of you have for him to reject in the first place?

Donghyuck is drawing a line, and the both of you know it.

The image of Jaemin’s face flashes in your mind again.

“Yes,” you lie, smiling back, “all according to plan.”

❄ DECEMBER 25.

The two of you spent the rest of the party pretending like everything was normal, joking like normal, but your words were so resoundingly hollow. When it was over, Donghyuck walked you home, but he didn’t come in. You didn’t ask him why either.

“Merry Christmas,” he had said.

But today is Christmas. And he isn’t here.

You’ve spent the whole day wandering your apartment aimlessly, unsure of what to do. You tried to turn your brain off and watch Netflix, but you accidentally discovered the list of cheesy Christmas movies that Donghyuck added to your To Watch List (presumably for him to watch) and you couldn’t bring yourself to watch anything without thinking of him.

You feel like you can cry at any moment, but your eyes are dry. After all, what exactly do you have to cry over? What did you have with Donghyuck that was worth crying over?

Your stomach begins to growl, and you remember that you haven’t eaten at all today. Lifelessly walking over to your fridge, you decide you’ll just microwave a frozen pizza. As you get closer, you notice that there’s something on the fridge door. Someone had printed out instructions on how to fry a sunny side up egg and hung it up with a magnet.

How on Earth did he leave so many traces of himself in such a short span?

No longer having an appetite, you rip the instructions off the fridge and toss them in your trashcan.

“Who’s the coward now? You can’t even come back and face me,” you mutter.

As if on cue, your phone begins to ring, the ringtone piercing through the dead silence of your apartment. You flinch, but you lunge for your phone, as if Donghyuck would call you. Of course, it’s not him but Jaemin. Still, you gasp and immediately answer.

“Hello?” you say frantically, “Jaemin?”

“Hey, Y/N.” Jaemin’s voice is hoarse, like he’s either choking back tears or has already cried. “Um, sorry for the short notice, but I’m, uh, actually outside your apartmentㅡ”

Without even waiting for him to finish, you run towards your door and fling it open. You’re hit by a blast of cold, and you realize that it’s snowing outside. Jaemin is standing there, wearing basically the same thing he was yesterday. When he looks at you, you notice how puffy his eyes are and how red his nose is. There’s also snow in his unruly hair.

“You must be freezing,” you breathe, “come in, quickly.”

You usher him inside and sit him down on your couch. “I’ll get you something warmㅡ”

Jaemin reaches up for your hand, dwarfing it with both his own, and he cradles your hand against his cheek. Since he’s sitting and you’re standing, you can only see the top of his head. Slowly, with your other hand, you tilt his face up towards you.

Running your thumb against the dark circles underneath his eyes, all you can say is, “I’m sorry.”

And you are. For so, so many things.

Even though you’ve destroyed his heart into smithereens, he still smiles. “Don’t ever be sorry to me, Y/N. You know I would do anything for you.”

For the first time today, you feel the tears well up in your eyes, and they overflowㅡwhatever mental dam you had up finally breaking. You shower Jaemin’s face with teardrops like rainfall, and he reaches up and lovingly wipes your tears away. He pulls you onto his lap and just holds you, drawing soothing circles on your back, as you sob into his shoulder.

Like always, he’s the one who ends up comforting you, even though you’re in the wrong. A part of you is angry at him for allowing himself to be treated like a doormat by you for so long, and another part of you finally understands just how constant his love has been for you. Jaemin is your airㅡsomething that you don’t realize you need until it’s not there anymore.

“I love you,” he whispers. You’re not sure if it’s a confession or not, but it doesn’t really matter.

It will take some time for you to be able to say it back and mean it as much as he does, and you won’t allow yourself to say it until does, but you feel your heart finally begin to shift.

And just like the Sugar Plum Fairy, Donghyuck becomes the melancholia of what could have been.

.

.

.

If Donghyuck wanted to, he could have reached out and stopped you.

He could have reached out and grabbed your hand and told you not to go to him.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he stands and watches you turn off the TV.

He watches you throw the instructions into the trash can and call him a coward.

(You’re right).

And he watches you go into Na Jaemin’s arms.

Yes, he’s always been envious of humans, and he’s never felt more like one right now.

But for once, he wishes he couldn’t feel.

❄ DECEMBER 31.

You’re wearing a different costume.

Gone is the frilly pink of the Sugar Plum Fairy, instead, you’re in the brilliant white of Odette from Swan Lake. Your costume reminds him of his old wings, but you’re more beautiful than any angel.

Jaemin, who is playing Prince Siegfried, lifts you in the air, with a proud smile on his face. Your form is perfect as he holds you in the air, and the two of you exchange tender glances as he slowly sets you down.  

Donghyuck smiles as well when he sees the look on your face.

When the performance ends, he claps the loudest.

.

.

.

You return home only to find that there is another feather in your jewelry box. This one, however, is much longer and thinner. It’s much more silver compared to the stark white of the other one, and it glows a faint amber.

Just like Donghyuck’s eyes.

I kept my promise, Sugar Plum Fairy.

❄ DECEMBER 20.

In his opinion, having to find love for a random ballerina seemed a bit below the caliber of a soon-to-be Archangel.

Rather, it seems like a job that newbies handle, but Donghyuck isn’t going to complain about an easy mission. Of course, he had been informed that it was much more than a simple matchmaking quest and that he was going to find out soon enough, but he isn’t that worried. After all, humans’ issues always revolve around two things: money or love.

Donghyuck arrives at the ballet company and casually strolls into the practice room, where you’re in the middle of one of your final rehearsals. You and Na Jaemin, the poor boy who’s been helplessly in love with you for his entire life, are practicing one of your many numbers together.

He watches as you do some extremely complicated footwork to the fast music, and even he had to admit it was pretty impressive for a human.

But Donghyuck’s mind empties out completely when he sees the look on your face.

He’s never seen any human look so happy; your smile is so big that your eyes crinkle in the corner, and even though you’re sweating, you look fresh and glowy. You have the aura of an angel, but you’re so much more breathtaking. He glances over at Jaemin, and he’s looking at you the same way Donghyuck is probably looking at you.

And as if it were happening in slow motion, Donghyuck watches as you misstep and land on your ankle incorrectly, falling towards the floor like a shot down sparrow.

Without even realizing, Donghyuck shoots forward and reaches out to catch you. Unfortunately, it’s too late and you hit the floor hard, clutching your ankle. Jaemin shoves aside onlookers and cradles you to his chest, saying your name over and over again as the tears stream down your face. But not because of the pain of hurting your ankle.

Donghyuck can do nothing except stand and watch as you sob.

Ah, he finally realizes, this is what the mission is.

[choerrypuffs]

do you and your friends always have to be the center of attention