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jebewonmorelike · 1 year

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Hao You Like That?

wc: 2.6k (guys i can't stop writing 2.6k words pls send help and love) pronouns: none used; n/a (if u find any that i wrote by mistake, pls let me know) warnings: none? a bit angsty, a bit fluffy... a mention of drinking, bullying/jealousy, food... maybe a swear or two? ricky pops up at the end, but that's not a warning it's a very pleasant surprise summary: oh no, you guys. trainee!reader is zhang hao's arch nemesis... i hope they aren't secretly harboring romantic feelings for eachother! ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ Not ready for eliminations guys. I think all of my top picks are safe (I'm getting so worried about Jay though), but I truly love ALL of those boys so much. I can't wait to see what they all do next. Can't believe we'll have Bep1er in like two weeks...

"(Y/N)!"

You chew your cheeks silently as your dance teacher shouts your name, bracing yourself for the inevitable criticism.

He glares at you a moment, before snapping his fingers and pointing to the center of the formation. “Stand there.”

You glance at Zhang Hao, the trainee that is currently standing at center and who also happens to be your arch nemesis. Zhang Hao had always been the darling of your company, an extremely talented dancer, vocalist and notable visual. But the first day you walked through your company’s doors as a fresh-faced trainee with an enviable skillset, Zhang Hao had suddenly found himself faced with real competition for the first time since he started training.

So for the past year it’s been a constant professional battle between the two of you, but on more than one occasion things had felt quite personal. When you were awarded center and main vocalist in your training group’s number for the company showcase in the spring, you woke up the morning of the performance to a large rash around your collarbone and running up both of your arms. Come to find out, Zhang Hao had exploited your well-known allergy to nickel and switched your costume jewelry for the performance with his.

This offense, of course, called for payback of equal or higher severity. When Zhang Hao was selected to perform solo for investors last fall, you spread a rumor around the company that he still wet the bed. The rumor spread so far that when Zhang Hao took center stage, one of the investors asked the CEO loudly, "Oh, this is the bed-wetter boy you were talking about?"

Hao is absolutely fuming right now and you can tell by the lack of expression on his face. No visible reaction from him always meant you'd be paying for whatever you earned later.

He steps aside as you take center, moving to your previous spot as you run the dance this way for your teacher. You give it your all, but you're admittedly a bit surprised to be considered for center for "How You Like That". You had been up all night for a week trying to finish an essay for your Sociology class and you hadn't stayed at the company past nine for the last three days. Practicing this dance had been low on your list of priorities.

As you hit your final pose, your teacher nods thoughtfully. He always looks so angry that you can never tell what he's really thinking until he says it out loud.

"I think we should put it up to a vote," he says decidedly.

Your eyes find Hao's quickly, a look of surprise on his face mirroring yours. "A vote?"

Your teacher claps his hands together. "A vote. You can practice for 24 hours. And tomorrow at this time, you'll both battle it out and the whole company will vote on it."

You swallow hard. "This is a terrible idea."

"What? Afraid you can't beat me?" Hao challenges with a smirk.

You study him for a second: his stupid (perfect) hair, his stupid (fashionable) outfit, his stupid (handsome) face. You know very well that he hates this idea as much as you do, if not more.

Your status as the top two trainees at the company made you both targets of jealousy and bullying, often leaving you feeling ostracized from much of the group. Funnily enough, Zhang Hao was probably the only person who could really understand how you feel most days, so it was both ironic and a real shame that he hated you most of all.

"No. I'm afraid of what will happen to me when I do," you reply, folding your arms as you turn your attention back to the front of the room.

Your teacher sighs in disbelief. "You two are the most annoying students I've ever had. Talented... But so irritating."

Some trainees behind you laugh while your teacher dismisses the group practice and you quickly gather your things and run out the door to an individual practice room.

You practice for a few more hours, not really wanting to lose to Hao now that you'd challenged him in front of your whole group. Crashing into your dorm around midnight, you work on your essay for another four hours before finally falling asleep. By 5:45 A.M., you're up and ready to walk through company doors at 6.

The day moves so slowly as you phone it in for every practice session and spend your lunch and dinner breaks alone in a practice room, thinking only about the choreography for the showcase number. You will never be able to listen to "How You Like That" the same way after this.

Finally, you reach your last practice session of the day at 8 P.M. and as you make your way to the studio room, you're surprised when you see Zhang Hao sitting in the hallway with his back against the wall.

Approaching the door, you look over at him. "What are you doing?"

He looks up at you and you can swear his eyes are watery. "Nothing."

"Are you crying?" You ask in a less than caring manner.

He looks away and sniffles. "Allergies."

"Did someone... say something?" You prompt reluctantly, knowing that it was a common occurrence for one or the both of you to end your days in tears from a nasty comment from your peers. "I don't know why you'd listen to them anyway. They're just jealous of you. Why wouldn't they be? You're better than them."

You're not really sure why you're offering even an attempt at words of comfort right now. Maybe it's because of your sleep deprivation. Maybe it's because his handsome face looks extra pathetic right now. Or maybe it's because you can't help but sympathize with him.

His wide eyes meet yours in a way you can't remember having seen before, but he doesn't say anything.

"I'd also be happy to say something even worse to take your mind off it?" You offer facetiously as you take into account his non-response.

He checks his watch suddenly and stands up, dusting himself off a bit as he grabs the door handle and pushes it open. "I think beating you should help just fine, actually."

Hao goes first, performing the center choreography and vocals for "How You Like That" to an audience of about fifty trainees that your teacher could muster up. Hardly the whole company, but you were surprised even that many of your peers wanted to watch either of you.

You can't help but notice that Zhang Hao seems a little distracted. Moves he would normally punch perfectly on an accented beat are lagging slightly and his expression is less than enthused. Nevertheless he does well and after he finishes, you hop up to take your turn. Fighting the exhaustion that is consuming your body, you battle to the best of your ability. Your voice has sounded extra good today, maybe because you hadn't let it cool down for over twenty-four hours. Hitting your final pose, you know you've out-performed Hao by at least a noticeable margin.

And from the look in his eyes, you know he knows it, too.

Your teacher stands up and calls for the vote. The trainees all hand in small slips of paper with either your name or Zhang Hao's on them and your teacher counts them quickly.

"Zhang Hao is the winner with... 43 votes," he says, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Huh."

You feel your cheeks start to heat up at the embarrassingly large defeat, swallowing the lump in your throat quickly. Your group practice session resumes without fanfare and you work on ironing out your original sub-vocal one and main rapper part for the rest of the hour, scurrying quickly from the practice studio and out company doors as fast as humanly possible.

You hit 'submit' on your essay at 11:37 P.M. exactly, just making the midnight deadline. Rubbing your eyes furiously, you start to get ready for a good night's sleep after a restless week of practice and schoolwork. Your toothbrush is in your mouth when a knock sounds on your door. Your roommates had gone out to drink tonight and said they wouldn't be back until early morning, so you wonder who the mysterious guest could be.

Spitting into the sink and wiping your mouth, you run to the door and open it cautiously to find Ricky, Zhang Hao's roommate, smiling politely back at you.

"Oh, hey (Y/N)... I think this got delivered to our room by mistake. I flipped it open quickly since there was no name on it and it's addressed to you, so I figured it just got mixed in with our mail by accident," Ricky explains, handing you a delicately folded piece of white paper.

"Oh," you say, turning it over in your hands. "Thanks, Ricky."

"No worries," he says with a nod, starting to walk away before adding, "Hey, uh, don't feel too bad about today either. Hao is really good, of course, but he only won by such a big margin because he bought everyone ramen for dinner tonight in exchange for their vote."

You can't help but laugh at the information you should've probably deduced for yourself. "Typical."

"If it makes you feel any better-- I'm upset about it, too. He used my credit card," the tall boy relays with a sigh, turning around and making his way back to his dorm.

You close the door to your room, sitting down on your bed and staring at the strange letter in your hands. You carefully open the folded piece of white paper and read the neat handwriting on the page:

"(Y/N),

Why are you like this? So perfect, I mean. You didn't practice the dance nearly as much as I did, but you were so much better. Why do you have to be a trainee at my company? Wouldn't it be better if we had both signed with different companies? Then maybe you wouldn't hate me so much. Then maybe I wouldn't have to pretend to hate you at all. Then maybe I wouldn't have been staring at you so much during practice today that I had my position as center questioned.

Ugh, this is so stupid. I don't know why my therapist told me to do this. So what if it's not healthy to have an "arch nemesis"? So what if it's even less healthy to have a crush on my so-called arch nemesis? What does she know?

I know I can't ever say any of this to you, but I just feel like you might be the one person who really gets me. How else would we be able to ruin each other's lives so effectively? Is it so wrong to want to turn things around? And it's not like we really have anyone else to talk to. I guess I just don't know how to tell you that I--..."

The letter ends there; a pen mark after the letter 'I' indicating the writer was pulled away from it in a hurry. It isn't signed, of course, but you know there's only one person who could've written it.

Jumping off of your bed, slipping on your shoes and racing down the hall, you knock on the door to his room. Ricky opens the door, smiling at first and then eyes widening in fear as he sees the look on your face.

"Is Hao there?" You ask frantically.

He shakes his head quickly. "No, he's still at the company, why--."

"Thanks," you say, starting down the hall as the blonde boy stares after you. "You should be running too, Ricky!"

"Why?" He asks, brows furrowing in confusion.

Opening the doors of your dorm building, you yell back over your shoulder, "Because Hao is going to kill you!"

Bursting through the company's doors at 12:06 A.M., you drop your phone in the basket in the hallway. A staff member greets you very cautiously.

"(Y/N), are you here to practice? All the individual rooms are currently in use," she says, looking at her watch to see what time it is.

"Great. Where's Zhang Hao?" You quietly demand, walking past her down the corridor to the individual practice rooms.

"Oh, um... Number three," she calls after you've already turned the corner. You're shaking slightly by the time you reach the door to practice room number three, entirely out of breath and sopping wet from running half a mile in the rain to get there in a fit of anxiety and rage.

You spot him now through the small window in the practice room door, perfecting some choreography for the investors' evaluation this weekend. His eyes are closed and his headphones are on as you prepare for a sneak attack, opening the door and stepping inside.

But Hao's eyes suddenly locking on yours through the mirror sends a panic through your system. You're breathing even harder than you were before as he turns around to face you. Taking off his headphones, he gives you a look of concern (or disgust) as he takes in your haggard state.

"What's--... What's wrong? Why are you all wet and gross?" He asks in a very Hao-like way, making it hard to believe he was really the one who wrote you some sort of quasi-love letter.

You stand there for a second, staring back at him as fear temporarily paralyzes you. What in the world are you thinking? What even is the goal of bringing this letter to him? To make fun of him? To break his heart?

... To make a confession of your own?

"Are you okay? Did something happen?" He asks then, his voice noticeably softening slightly. "Did someone... say something?"

You nod slowly, pulling out the folded letter from your hoodie pocket; now dampened from the rain.

"What's that?" Zhang Hao asks, brows furrowed as we walks up to you and snatches the paper out of your hand. He unfolds it quickly, the corner of it tearing off in the process.

You watch his face completely drop as he realizes what it is. If you were questioning it before, you now had no doubt that Hao had in fact written the letter. He stares at it silently, clearly unsure of what to do or say.

"Is it true?" You ask softly.

"Is what true? There's not even a signature on it," he denies half-heartedly, bottom lip finding its way between his teeth.

"Is it true?" You ask again. Did you want it to be true?

His eyes meet yours timidly now, as he seemingly finds himself unable to speak. He shakes his head slowly. Has he always been this cute?

"That's too bad," you concede, stepping backwards. "I might've considered it... All of it."

You raise your eyebrows expectantly, turning towards the door when you feel Zhang Hao's hand close around your wrist. You look at him, his cheeks flushed a perfect rose.

"This is so embarrassing," he squeaks out, looking anywhere but into your eyes.

You nod. "It really is."

"Well, you're the one who ran here in the rain at midnight to see me," he quips.

"Well, you're the one so hung up on me that your therapist made you write a fake letter to address your feelings," you rebuttal.

"Well, you're the one who--," Hao starts to argue, and before you're even fully aware of what you're about to do, you find yourself cutting him off with a kiss. When you pull back, his mouth hangs agape slightly in shock. "… Kissed me."

"Honestly, Hao, you are pretty cute, but you're so annoying when you talk," you explain.

He nods slowly. "And so are you... But you know what I still can't figure out?"

You raise an eyebrow at him curiously. "What?"

"How did you get this letter in the first place? It was in my r--..."

Zhang Hao's eyes narrow menacingly as realization hits him:

"Ricky."

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jebewonmorelike · 1 year

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I Am The Boyfriend, Sir

wc: 1.5k pronouns: she/her (he/him and they/them versions are below original!) warnings: junhyeon being unhinged, ~flirtatious ending~, allusion to strict parents, fluff summary: kum junhyeon is SO excited to finally meet your parents... what could possibly go wrong? ~bp masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ THE HOURS. ARE DWINDLING. THE END. IS NYE. THE APOCALYPSE NEAR. BEP1ER IS APPROACHING RAPIDLY. i don't want to stop writing about any of these guys. i don't want to stop seeing any of themmm. i love them so much. catch me in therapy tomorrow only talking about boys planet istg.

"I think they're gonna love me," Junhyeon predicts as he hops out of the car. You grab your bag from the floor and start to open the passenger door, but your boyfriend beats you to it. He holds his hand out to help you chivalrously with a cheeky grin.

"Thank you, kind sir," you tease as you step out of the car. He laughs, taking your bag from you and throwing it over his shoulder along with his own.

"I'm so excited," Junhyeon relays, grabbing your hand and forcing you to jump up and down with him as you walk up to your parents' front door. "I can't believe I'm about to meet the people who made you who you are! I bet they're just as fun as you."

"Well..." You start to interject, but he continues on.

"Ugh, I've seen this moment in dramas a bunch of times. The male lead is always stressing out about meeting 'the family'," Junhyeon babbles as you ring the doorbell. "It's so annoying! Like, what are you so worried about? That your father-in-law is going to--."

Just then, the door swings open to reveal your dad. Six-foot-four and brawny, a greying mustache, and wearing his Marines t-shirt that you always begged him not to wear when you had guests over, your dad blinks back at the two of you in the doorway.

"Kill you," Junhyeon finishes his sentence in a whisper as he takes in your dad's massive build.

Your dad gives you a warm smile. "Hey, peanut," he says gruffly, then turns to Junhyeon; giving him a once over. "So you're the boyfriend?"

“YES, SIR!” Junhyeon jumps to attention, dropping your hand as quickly as possible and saluting your dad. "I AM THE BOYFRIEND, SIR!"

Your dad shoots you a concerned look as you reach up and pry your boyfriend's hand from his forehead. "Dad, this is Junhyeon."

"Junhyeon, huh?" Your dad nods thoughtfully. "I had a buddy in the service named Junhyeon."

Your boyfriend grins and you can tell he's revving up for a joke. "Is he handsome, too? I wouldn't want you to get us mixed up."

"He's dead," your dad announces dryly.

Your bag drops from Junhyeon's shoulder to the ground as shock takes over his whole body.

Your dad snorts. "I'm just messing with ya, kid. Come on in; your mother's setting the table."

Shaking your head hopelessly, you finally step past your dad through the door and into the house. When you realize Junhyeon isn't following you, you turn around to see what the hold up is.

"Junhyeon?" You begin to question before you see your boyfriend on the ground in a full bow in front of your father.

"Thank you for letting me into your home, sir. I appreciate so deeply your hospitality and kindness," Junhyeon pleads as you walk back over to him and pull him up by the neck of his t-shirt.

"Let's go," you say exasperatedly, dragging him through the front door and into your house. Your mom walks out from the kitchen into the living room, smiling at you.

"Hi, peanut," she greets softly, giving you a pat on the cheek before turning to your boyfriend. "It's nice to meet you, Junhyeon."

Junhyeon nods respectfully at your mom, whose hair is tied up in a tight bun with her rectangular framed glasses sitting towards the end of her nose. A research librarian, your mom was quiet and caring by nature-- but she valued discipline and quiet just as much as your dad while you were growing up.

"You kids can drop your things off upstairs and freshen up before we eat," your mom directs. "There's clean sheets on the guest room to the right."

Junhyeon's eyes bug incredulously. "We--... You want us to sleep in the same room!?"

Your mom glances at you. "Is that a problem?"

Junhyeon nods vigorously, checking over his shoulder to see your dad sitting in the arm chair behind you. "We won't be sharing a bed until we're married!"

You grab your boyfriend's sleeve, pulling him towards the stairs and up to the guest room-- shutting the door quickly behind you.

"Baby, what the hell are you doing?" You ask, watching as Junhyeon sits down on the bed quite cautiously.

"I--... I don't know," he says, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm so scared."

You can't help but laugh at your boyfriend's complete attitude change. In the car he couldn't shut up about how good he is with parents; how his friends' dads always adore him more than their own sons...

And now, here he is: head in his hands on the verge of combustion from terror.

"I know they can come off a little intimidating at first," you soothe, walking over to Junhyeon. He rests his head on your stomach and you run your fingers through his hair soothingly. "But I promise their bite isn't nearly as bad as their bark."

"He's so big," Junhyeon whispers. "How does he even fit through the door?"

"Well, they actually had custom doorframes built in this new house..." You trail off when you see him looking up at you with a worry you'd never really seen on him before. "Hyeonni, it's going to be absolutely fine. Didn't you say you were excited to meet the people who made me who I am?"

Junhyeon laughs sadly. "But you're so... I mean, you're..."

"Fun? Light-hearted? Whimsical? Care-free?" You suggest, Junhyeon nodding enthusiastically in response.

"Exactly!" He agrees, eyes widening as he makes a clarification. "Not that there's anything wrong with them or anything! You're just really different, is all."

“I actually evolved more in response to my upbringing," you say with a sigh. "Not in accordance with it."

Junhyeon puckers his lips cutely and you lean down to kiss him. He wraps his arms around your waist tightly, deepening the kiss.

"Two minutes!" Your mom calls up the stairs, causing Junhyeon to jump back up to attention-- almost knocking you over in the process. He catches you quickly with one arm and spins you around, placing you down firmly in the spot he was just sitting.

"Trying to steal my innocence," he shames, clicking his tongue and shaking his head disapprovingly as he makes his way to the bathroom. "It's like you want your dad to bury me in the backyard."

You watch as Junhyeon takes very careful, calculated bites of his steak; cutting respectfully with the knife and fork provided to him. Usually he'd just shove the meat in his face and nearly swallow it whole.

"I heard you were thinking of moving in together," your mom says, smiling politely at the two of you.

Junhyeon blinks nervously. "No, no. Me and her? No. No way. Absolutely not."

"Oh," your mom replies in surprise. "(Y/N) told us that--."

Junhyeon interrupts: "(Y/N) is an evil temptress and I am but a mere victim."

Your dad chokes on his water.

"Junhyeon," you try to intercept to no avail.

"We will not be moving in together. We don't have any physical contact-- not even platonically. This is actually the first time I've seen her in a month," your panicked boyfriend rambles, the lies just rolling off his tongue.

"Son, if you're worries about offending us--," your dad tries to deescalate but Junhyeon continues.

“I don’t even look at her, sir!"

“You don’t look at her?” Your dad repeats, brows furrowed concernedly as he glances at you.

Junhyeon shakes his head furiously. “I respect your daughter far too much to taint her with my gaze, SIR!"

“Junhyeon—," you try again.

“I only plan to look at her for the first time on our wedding day!”

One last time, you try, “Hyeonni—.”

“Hyeonni!?” Junhyeon’s eyes bug out of his head incredulously, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Are you crazy!? Your dad could kill me with his bare hands.”

Your dad looks down at his hands with a frown as he freezes in the middle of cutting his steak.

“He’s literally holding a knife!” Junhyeon exclaims, giving up on his piss poor attempt to be discreet. “(Y/N), I know you want me, but you can’t have me if I’m dead!”

Suddenly, your dad begins to laugh heartily-- something you've only heard about a handful of times in your life. “Where did you find this guy, peanut? He’s got quite the sense of humor.”

"He does. Doesn't he?" You agree tersely, glaring at your boyfriend.

Your dad places his fork and knife down, announcing decisively: "I like him."

Your eyes widen in surprise as Junhyeon stares back at your father, equally stunned. "You do?"

"You do!?" Junhyeon repeats hopefully, clasping his hands together as if he's praying for it to be true.

Your dad picks his fork and knife back up, continuing to cut into his steak. "He's a little odd, but I think he really likes you... In his own way."

Junhyeon nods enthusiastically. "I do! I really do!"

You smile at him, biting your lip as you look at the sweet, considerate, and absolutely insane boy sitting next to you.

"I really like him, too."

Junhyeon flops down on the bed, arms above his head as he smiles happily to himself.

The night had passed by fairly smoothly after that-- your parents patting you on the back lovingly and congratulating you on finding such a good match for yourself.

"That was awesome," Junhyeon says with a sigh. "I don't know what you were so worried about!"

You chew your cheek as you grin, suppressing the urge to smack him. "You wouldn't even kiss me, you were so worried," he says, sitting up and looking around with his eyebrows raised as if he's checking that no one else is in the room. Finally, he gazes back up at you with a shrug.

"Wanna make out?"

he/him pronoun users :)